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.