If only my duck walk to the dressing tent was as cool, anyway I move through with relative ease and grab my bag before removing extraneous items of clothing, applying nappy cream to the kiwi’s and donning the runners. The crowd lifts as they see the smile on my face and enjoy my high fives down the exit chute all the way to the end before disappearing around the corner.
Many months out from race day I realised that I would have to change my stride to a more economical length and in doing so possibly make it to the other end. Cognitive Behavioural Therapy would prove to be my friend here as the words – “Short steps, moving forward, run all day” were indelibly etched into my mind and were with me again after a couple of hundred metres into the marathon.
Rusty is no road runner – I detest it – like road riding it is boring and no good for your body so as result I managed to use the grass verge for a few kilometres before finally seeing that there was simply no way to travel this way once I hit the Capt Cook Highway – this was gonna hurt! Off to Cairns 20 k away….
I truly take my hat off to those freaks that take on the Hawaii Ironman and must travel through the lava fields. I hit the road at about 1400hrs and it was 28 degrees with high humidity – the sun coming in over my right shoulder or directly behind me – it was like being in a crucible under a magnifying glass. My early morning decision to not apply sunscreen all over was vexing me.
5k in and I make the decision that would save my bacon. No way would I run non-stop and nowhere near it so I work out that I can run six white road markers (@500metres) and then stride out two which kept me moving and catching the people shuffling along but then stopping for a break. I’d heard of the run hard for a minute and then walk for a minute marathon and knew that the times were pretty good so off I went.
Fatigue makes cowards of us all!
Short steps – moving forward – run all day Short steps – moving forward – run all day Short steps – moving forward – run all day Short steps – moving forward – run all day
…and then somewhere around 15k I just forgot to keep telling myself and started to enjoy the scenery, the people and concentrate on what was now an ability to run for nearly a kilometre before striding out. I was looking good and totally in control but man was I sick of ghastly sweet gels, bars and drinks.
The last half of this marathon is three laps of the Esplanade along the foreshore of Cairns so there is scenery and people – lots of people everywhere, cheering people – the spirits are lifted and as the sun goes down with the temperature I settle into familiar laps of the course.
…and then the most emotional moment of the day arrives as I see my beautiful personal support team running towards me – barefoot. Never one to miss out on a training session she is keen to run near me and give encouragement and a well needed kiss and hug – I am recharged. But alas, in her day of latte and reading she has abandoned the handbag with the much needed vegemite sandwich which I prepared the previous night – my stomach reels.
Never one to fall down on responsibilities she is back on task by the time I see her next lap with a vegemite sambo in hand and too ready to point out that it cost four bucks fifty – the reply being that it was four bucks fifty well spent and I will leave the rest up to you.
My memories in the last stages of this great event are blended into a collage of stories; the organisation behind the event that everyone turns up to but only few realise the sacrifice made by those behind the scenes, behind the government wrangling, behind the sponsorship hassles, behind the sacrifices made of family and friends – Geoffrey and team you are my pro-forma of professionalism and the reminder of ‘how things are done around here’.The volunteers; nothing but a t-shirt, a free lunch pack and if they are lucky a ‘thanks mate’ as the bottle is grabbed, the corner is passed or the shoulder is given whilst the fatigued muscle is stretched. It may sound corny and self serving but I always make it a point in any event to thank as many of them as I can as I know they are the backbone of the event management family.
The mums and dads, the first timers, the old guys, the old girls, the repeat ironmen and women, the fat bastards and the guy who opened his mouth to his mates and had to put up or shut up – I bow to you all as anyone who attempts this is truly deserving of the title ‘Athlete’.
The final thank you to the aid station volunteers for those rotten pineapple lollies and life saving flat coke. The apologies to the guy I opened the porta-loo door on whilst he was completing paperwork – really sorry man, but you didn’t lock the door. The guy who could not run further than twenty metres without cramping up for without the knowledge that you just stuffed up your eating and drinking reminded me of how important an eating/drinking plan is and what happens when you don’t stick to it or be able to alter it when needed – he’ll be back again, next year.
The look of longing each lap past the finish chute that I couldn’t run up until my final coloured band was provided – and then finally as I realised that I was coming home…..
……eight months in the making, moments of despair caused by injury, time spent away from loved ones, money spent on reliving a moment last seen seventeen years previous…….
A sea of red balloons and flags, arms waving, open mouths but no sound – an ethereal moment in time as I run the final hundred metres and feel suspended above the ground until finally the silence is broken and I catch my name over the speakers and see a fleeting glance of my wonderful wife waving madly whilst pointing an I-Phone at me.
I cross the line and glance up to see that I am finished – 12 hours 43 minutes after the journey started I am done, nothing left in the tank – job done.
My medal hung around my neck and the memorial towel over the shoulders as it catches up on me and I find myself collapsing onto the chest of the other aged ironman who gave me the opportunity to chase a dream. I stagger and look up as I see him wiping away a tear that I later convince myself was one from laughter but for a moment I see he was just as stoked as I was – nice one mate.
I never, not once thought that I would never finish this event. From the time I took up the challenge in October to the time I saw the final metres – I knew that I could do it. That may sound self assured and over confident to those who do not know me but then again if you are reading this then you surely know me my friend. I can’t explain that but I think it needs to be said, I just backed myself that I could do it again and now it is done I feel ready for the next challenge.
Back to my comment at the start, ‘I don’t know why I did this’.
I do know why I did this event and the answer was close to the surface as I delved into memories past circa 1991. I draw your attention to the elder statesmen Theodore Roosevelt and his many famous lines but amongst which their can only suit able to answer the question why.
You can copy paste these words (italics) and it will link you to the full speech but for the moment I will point it out;
Sorbonne – Paris, France in 1910.
Commonly known as ‘The Man in the Arena’ speech it was delivered around the topic of citizenship in the republic. It is quite lengthy however there is a paragraph that encapsulates Tinley’s stolen quote and then some;
"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.
Next time you are stuck listening to the armchair critic, the loser on the side line or the profoundly negative of all – think of these prophetic words, lace up the runners, pump up the tires and leave the negative void you are momentarily amidst.
Life is short, get out there.
RI.
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