Run before you drink

The festive season is choc full of traditions. You got the turkey, ham, pudding etc.. including copious amounts of beers or what ever might be your poison. Then on Boxing Day there's the possibility of more food, more beer and watching one or all of the Sydney to Hobart start, the MCG test and the Caulfield races. A few days to catch your breath and then New Year's Eve might just have your body being treated like a fun park rather than a temple.

Amid all of that it's no surprise that a few kilos are stacked on in a short space of time. Those kilos then hang around for too long and become really hard to shift. But hey it's tradition. I'm a big fan of traditions and don't like to miss out on the fun that comes with the festive season. So the question is how am I meant to keep up with the running in such a busy time.

As the title simply says, all you have to do is - Run Before You Drink. - Sounds easy and it kind of is. Just need a touch of extra planning and a bit of water at the end of each day/night. The Christmas day/Boxing day double is the tough one. With two young kids up early and excited about opening up presents and then a full day ahead of food and alcohol there was only one option available to me this year. I ran to my sister's place for our big lunch while Leah drove with the kids. I was able to squeeze in a half marathon and then feel very justified in having a real crack at some beers and stacks of food. I did smash down a couple of Powerades before cutting loose mind you.

So then I scheduled Boxing Day as my rest day and made sure at the end of it I topped up on water and electrolytes so I was in reasonable shape on the 27th to get back on track with a decent run.

The 'Run Before You Drink' strategy was important at the beginning of my running life too. Going from drinking pretty much everyday to nothing didn't seem achievable. So I told myself just to get out and run for 30 minutes then I would allow myself to indulge in a few beers. This was a bit of a reward that seemed to motivate me. Before too long I was still doing the running but wasn't feeling the need for the beer at the the end of a session.

So now with under 5 months until the TNF100 (http://www.thenorthface.com.au/100/) and me being on holidays, it really is time to train like a madman.

This week has involved the following -
Sunday - 15km
Monday - Rest Day
Tuesday - 15km
Wednesday - 20km
Thursday - 13km
Friday - 16km
Saturday, Xmas Day, - 21km
Total - 100km
Happy with that total for a busy week but need to throw in a long run of 35+ kms or 3-4 hours in the hills.
We'll see what the last week of 2010 brings.

A kilometre shared....



Kids, adults - men and women, 30, 40 & 70 yr olds, regular runners, novice runners
 people going further than ever before. Every single one of them absolutely loving it.

This photo was taken with about 6kms to go in our 80km ultra run, just for fun, from Burwood to Safety Beach. Each runner pictured has a story. A life story and a running story.

The man in black, not Johnny Cash but Wighty is his name was going to run 8km and ended up doing over 20km. By far more than he'd ever done before.

The girl at the back, my sister Clare, ran a faster ten km than ever before.

The guy at the front with his two kids is Eddie. He doesn't run, he floats.

The guy leading the second pack is Noel who is over 70 years old. He's a legend. He podium finishes, for his age group, in ten km races he does at Melbourne Marathon.

The guy on the bike in the lead pack, Houeixy,  rode about 70km that day as a support. We were moving pretty slow so I can't fathom how boring it must have been for him. He never let us know.

The guy in the yellow shorts is the Big T. If there is a word of encouragement needed, you can bet the Big T is all over it like a rash.

I am running behind Noel in the picture in the white cap. Behind me you might just be able to see another taller runner with a dark cap. His name is Michael. I'd never met him before that day, my sister invited him along. Over the last 10km Michael lifted my mood on several occasions. He was so positive and happy about what was transpiring. I couldn't help but feel better. One week later Michael was running round the Tan and suffered a heart attack. People came to his aid quickly and he was being looked after and was in hospital before too long. He survived. Maybe he survived because he was so fit and otherwise healthy from running or maybe he was just lucky. Maybe a bit of both. My sister reckons for sure if he was running by himself he probably would have been pretty much cactus. A kilometre shared.....

On the day of the photo if I was to try to run 80km by myself I am sure I wouldn't have been able to complete it. If by some freak occurence I was able to do it by myself I am without doubt about one thing. I wouldn't have anywhere near the amount of great memories that I have of that day now.

All along the way we chatted and laughed and distracted each other from the pain. A kilometre shared.......

I run with a group of mates at Duncan McKinnon aths track on a weekly basis. We chat and laugh as we run. We push each other to go further and faster. When I'm feeling a bit flat the crew will drag me through. The D-Mac crew love to share kilometeres. The improvement in all of us is obvious. A kilometre shared......

For my long runs I head out with Seb & Gully. I love long runs with those boys. It's a guarantee runner's glow at the end.

A kilometre shared has to be the way to go.



Sneaking out

They say your first marathon is like your first kid being born. It's true in a way. It's not to say that the next marathons aren't as special, it's just that you now have a bit of a clue about what's involved. As I say, you have a bit of a clue, but it seems after each marathon you block out exactly how much pain you went through. If you didn't then you'd never sign up for another.

In the year and a bit since my first marathon there has rarely been a day when I haven't been registered for an upcoming event. The feeling and buzz you get out of a race is extremely addictive. When you become open to the idea of doing ultra marathons, then there's even more choice out there. Like a couple of kids in a candy store, myself and  my training partner Seb, are continually hearing about fantastic challenges that we struggle to say no to.

My wife Leah has noticed a massive change in me. The most obvious one that she speaks of is that I used to sneak in at 3 or 4 in the morning after a big night on the turps. These days I'm sneaking out at the same time to go and do 30 or 40 kms. I used to drink six days a week and was proud of my one AFD. Now I run six days a week and feel guilty on my day off. Leah has been an amazing support. Running is a very selfish sport and very time consuming but Leah has never made me feel like what I am doing is a strain on her. Actually these days she's got the bug herself and recently bought her own Garmin. It's been a very busy time.

In April, Seb and I did the Percy Cerutty 55km - Frankston to Portsea - The weather was atrocious, I went out too hard, ran too fast up hills and not long after we got hailed on, I hit the wall harder than I ever had ever before.

In May we did the Sri Chinmoy, Williamstown marathon. I didn't get the pre-race food intake quite right and for at least the last 15km was faced with a real 'threat'. I was happy it didn't turn out like it did for Deeks. Williamstown was a PB by 9 minutes.

Next was an 80km run from Burwood to Safety Beach in August. This was Seb's idea. He did it the year before but this time I was going to join him along with another mate, John Gullifer, for the full 80. This run lasted for 8.5 hours. Heaps of great people joined in for a few kms here and there. My son Raf did 1km with me which I loved. At the 70km mark my sister, brother and nephew joined in for the last 10km. It was the highlight of my running to date.

In October it was the Melbourne Marathon. From the first couple of k's my quads were sore for the whole race but again it was another PB, by 4 minutes this time.

Then in November it was the Moonwalk for charity. 45kms in the Dandenongs, 9pm start. Seb, Gully and myself formed a team and spent 6.5 hours in the hills in the middle of the night. It was an amazing experience in so many ways.

All of these events there have been challenging and all of them have been rewarding. In each of them the mind has tried to convince me that enough is enough. Before a race you know you are going to have this battle but when it's happening it is still ridiculously tough to beat it and win. In my mind battles, one thought keeps coming back to me. If I don't beat it right now, I definitely can't beat it tomorrow. You only get one shot at it. So far I haven't lost one of these battles.

So after all that I've got several PB's, a few medals and heaps of photos of great memories. But nearly all of them are seemingly just about me. There's that selfish sport rearing its ugly head. My favourite photo of my running however is of my son proudly showing off his first race bib. A couple of years ago when I was drinking for Australia, he didn't know what a race bib was.

The First Marathon

Having committed to being on the start line in 2009, my training went to another level. It's so much easier to get out for a run when there is an event to work towards. The training was going so well that I started thinking about upgrading to the full Marathon. I mentioned to a few mates that I was probably, maybe heading towards the 42.2 and that was it. Once it had been aired publicly I was pretty much locked in.

30 years ago my Dad and my Uncle Kevin chased 3 hours 30min. Dad had two cracks at it and although he missed that milestone he ran well to cross the line in 3.43. The amount of training that would be needed to wittle down that 13 minutes really wasn't much of an option with 4 kids in the house ranging from 2 years to 13 years. Uncle Kevin went back year after year after year to break that barrier that just kept eluding him. Finally he did get there. His best at the end of his Marathon career was a 3.20. In the process he became a Spartan (runner of 10 or more Melbourne marathons)

Both of them still exercise regularly. Dad clocks up stacks of kms walking these days and continues to inspire me and probably heaps of others. A good man just does his own thing and in the process has a positive impact on many without even realising. That's my Dad.

So when I entered in my first Marathon it was well and truly my goal to break 3.30. Sure I wanted to do it for myself but I desperately wanted it for Dad as well. On several occasions while out on a run by myself I would daydream about what it would be like to run into the M.C.G with Dad and the whole family there and 3.29 on the clock. I almost teared up thinking about it. I wrote a card to my Dad and told him that he had to read it at 7.00am on race day when the starter would send us on our way. In the card I thanked him for everything and dedicated the run to him. I had to break 3.30.

On the start line I was very nervous. I knew I'd done a heap of training but I also knew it was going to be a close call. One thing for absolute sure, it was going to hurt. Everything started out well and I was on pace or even a little bit ahead. I'd got to about 30km with some time up my sleeve but I had started slowing down. I had wanted to be a bit closer before I started to drop away. At about 35km the 3.30 pacer guy flew past me like I was standing still. I was shattered emotionally, and physically I had never been in more pain. I kept going but was devestated that everything I had hoped for was going up in smoke. I imagined my family already at the 'G' waiting for me, I remembered a text message that my brother Greg had sent me the previous day and I kept at it. I looked at my watch and in my haze I did the sums and realised the pacer guy was ahead of schedule by a few minutes. I was still a chance.

I kept hurting but I kept doing the sums and pushed to get through the last few kms. It was only at the 41km mark that I was sure I was going break 3.30. From that point the toughest thing was to hold back the tears. We are an emotional lot in my family. As I entered the ground, just a few hundred metres from the line, I couldn't believe the roar of the crowd. It was as if it was all for me. 100 metres from the finish I could see my family in the crowd and could hear them screaming. The feeling was like nothing I had ever experienced in a sporting sense.

I crossed the line in 3 hours 29 minutes 9 seconds. I hugged my wife and son, sister, Mum, friends................I hugged my Dad and I cried.

The Turning Point

So the embarrassment of being beaten was big but the realisation of how unhealthy and out of shape I was hit me hardest. I'd never been this unfit in my life and here I was faced with a decision to make. One choice was to continue on as normal and just kind of hope I would be ok. The second choice was to do something proactive and get fit. Also on the horizon was my 40th birthday. I didn't want to be a fat forty year old.

So I had reached the turning point and made the right choice. I started going for a few runs and for a couple of months everything was looking good. I was feeliing a bit better and thought I was right back on track. Then a big hurdle arose. It was called Summer holidays. Typically festive cheer was something I embraced with a passion. Hot weather, a pool in the backyard, a fridge full of beer and good tunes filling the air. It was a beautiful scenario and one that took over my good intentions. Running took a back seat and before long I was back to making excuses. My new life had been postponed but thankfully not cancelled.

It was to be quite a few months until it all started for me again. In August 2008 I started running three times a week. In September my daughter, Tierney, was born to join her brother Raferty in our house. So for three weeks after the birth I again postponed my new life. This time though I got back to it quickly. The realisation now was that it would be selfish and irresponsible to be a couch potato with two kids in the house looking for a role model.

Then in October of  '08 a mate who I had played heaps of footy with over the years was striving to break three hours in the Melbourne Marathon. Seb had already had a couple of cracks at it and come agonisingly close. On this occasion when he crossed the line the watch was stopped at 2 hours 59 minutes and 50 seconds. I was almost a thrilled as him. I rang Seb not long after he had crossed the line and in our conversation I decided that the following year I would be on the start line for the Half Marathon. Seb was to become my mentor over the next 12 months. Without him my life would be very different today. I don't like to think about the person I might have been if I didn't run.

The story so far......

My running story started over 30 years ago but only really kicked into gear in in August 2008. In 1979 my Dad ran in the 'Big M - Melbourne Marathon'. As an 8 year old my enduring memory of the event was when back at our house after the event he took off his shoe to reveal a foot that was one giant blister. It was horrific and yet I think at that point in some way I decided that one day I too would run a marathon That day came in October, 2009.

My passion had been football. I started playing when I was 7 and continued until I was 35. In all that time there was one premiership in 1991. I consider myself  very lucky to have been involved in that experience. It's the dream and goal of every footballer to play in a flag. The celebrations were huge and the feeling unsurpassed. I never hit another sporting high so great until October, 2009.

After finishing my playing career I did nothing for nearly 3 years. Well 'nothing' isn't quite right. I did sit on the couch alot, I did drink beer alot and I did watch sport alot. However I still thought I was in shape so to speak. Still thought I was pretty fit and healthy. It took me a long time to fully understand how wrong I was.

The turning point in my life was when I challenged a kid in my class to a race at Aths training. I thought for sure I would comfortably beat this 12 year old girl, Ashley. She said ok let's go, 800m. I let her lead out and sat just off her shoulder ready to kick clear at any stage. With 300m left to go I pulled out into the second lane and went to make my move but there was nothing at all left in the tank. Ashley was the one who moved away and won comfortably by about 30-40m. It wasn't just the beating I took that changed my life. It was also the fact that at the end of 800m I was completely exhausted. I was shaking uncontrollably and it took the best part of an hour for me to feel anywhere near normal again.

On that day I decided a change had to be made.