nice guys don't finish first

After
Originally uploaded by Auswomble

Not sure if I'm the first to finish or not? If not I must be fairly close, what with being on Australia's East coast. Anyway, let's get today's run out of the way. The cold moved onto the chest last night and I woke this morning with a temperature and a nasty stabbing pain in my chest every time I coughed. Green chunks. Lovely. My colds follow a predictable pattern, so this was not entirely unexpected. Sal got up early to look after AJ who rarely sleeps beyond 5:15. No dog walking today. When Sal left to go to work and drop AJ at daycare I trotted down the road next to the car, did a lap of the park and stopped as I clicked over 1km. I reckon 1km counts as a run. And I'm done. I've gone out with a bit of a wimper, which annoys me in a way it shouldn't. Serenity prayer 'n all. Now I'm at the new cafe down the road that does not have wireless. Arse.

So I guess I should reflect on the month just passed, but as I sit here I feel a bit vague and vacant and it isn't just the cold. It's over. And now…? Odd feeling. So let's just spew forth whatever comes to mind.

Alex now calls herself a jogger. If she sees me getting into my running kit she comes up to me and asks "jogging? Daddy, jogging?" When she normally runs she is all flailing arms and legs, as you'd expect from a 2yr old. But when she is a jogger she lifts her hands to chest height and tucks her elbows in. It is damn cute…and incredibly moving to see your child trying to be just like you. No idea what I've done to deserve her.

It was good to think about dad again. He's dead and gone and that's it, but I carry the memory of him with me and hope I always will. I'm not a religious, spiritual or superstitious person and I'll not spend too much time dwelling on the scientific, evolutionary reasons I invoke him when times get tough. It is what it is. Each of us is the sum of what others think about us. So just keep thinking to keep your loved ones with you. Or something like that. I don't spend as much time thinking about mum. She was the rock. She enabled everything, she ran the family without ever seeming to do so. Shame she died when I was 23, slap bang in the middle of the selfish prick years, before I took the opportunity to get to know her.

I think that is one of the most surprising things about this month's antics, just how emotional it has at times been. I've been elated and angry, contemplative and maudlin, happy and sad, confused and surprised and lots more besides. Yes I know they are not all emotions. And I've been lonely too. I typically run alone, and usually that's fine, but a couple of times I have felt incredibly lonely, surprisingly so. I don't know why I run. I know why I started.

Rewind a few years. I moved to Australia in 1999 because the beer was cheap, the weather was lovely and I could go scuba diving every weekend and after work during the week. I moved from London with an Australian girl who I dumped after being here for a few months. It was an awful time. I was a complete shit. I struggle to come to terms with it still. On the plus side, I met Sal and now have a beautiful daughter with another on the way, the house, the dogs. I really am a lucky bastard. Good people do bad things. Not sure how good I am, but there you go. Rambling, stop it. Sal wanted to do the work and travel overseas thing, and as that is exactly what I was doing when we met, I was not in a position to say no. My one condition was that I would not leave Aus until I had my permanent residency, until I knew I could come back. So in 2003 we headed to London. Being the big-shot who would simply walk into a job I left first and promptly struggled to get a job while Sal landed one after a phone interview she had while still in Sydney. By the time I got a job I had seven quid left in the bank. Running, get back to the running…

There is a thing called the heathrow Injection. It is given to Australians as they arrive in London and is delivered in pints. Take a young Aussie away from home and the beach and shove them in a London winter; see what happens. The Heathrow injection is worth a few kg. Having cleaned my act up quite considerably when I got to Aus I was in no mood to go backwards. I'd grown up a bit by my 33rd year. I knew that to do the diving I needed to be fit and sober. If I wanted to go snowboarding each winter I needed reasonable leg strength to make up for my lack of any real ability. And I had no intention of being an old dad. I made a conscious decision to look after myself. But I didn't run any more than a couple of km and I was not good at it.

A brief aside - I have a feeling this post may be a bit of a rambling epic, even by the wordy standards of me and my bro. A run that sticks in my mind. Before I first left for Australia I worked in an office above Victoria Station in London. I worked with Mark who also wanted to move to Australia. Eventually he got a transfer to Melbourne, where he still lives, now with wife, 2 kids and 2 dogs (sound familiar?) We once went for a lunchtime run around Battersea Park, the finer details of which escape me. But we said that we'd one day run along an Australian beach together. And we did. Mark is gearing up for his first marathon; he remains one of my dearest friends, even if I have never told him and though I see him infrequently. Last year, as I hit about 25m in the Melbourne marathon and felt like quitting, he handed me a bottle of water, having come out to cheer me on. He's that sort of guy.

Back to London. It was Sal who was primarily responsible for this running thing. I threw out the idea of running the London Marathon. It is typically five times oversubscribed, so the chances of getting a spot are…well, you do the maths. A work colleague of Sal's told her about Paris. The marathon is one week before London. Entry is first-come-first-served and I was guaranteed a spot. And HELLO, Paris! So, with a goal of Paris I started to run regularly, getting over my initial dislike. I finished - and don't I look good in orange plastic? - in pain with the classic "never again, never again" and promptly entered New York, another marathon that Sal was 100% behind my participation in. HELLO, New York! From there it becomes a bit of a blur

I wanted three. Anyone can run a marathon. Really, they can. And two might be a coincidence, but three? With three I could call myself a marathon runner. I entered London and got a 2006 spot, first time of asking. Then I got injured and put my entry off for a year. And in that year moved back from London to Sydney, resulting in an ever-so-slight increase in my travel time and cost to get to the start line in 2007. Darren, who told me about Janathon and who I will thank after I have finished slapping him, saw me at the end of each of my first three marathons. Dad met me at the end of London. Special.

But why do I STILL do it? I want to stay fit for me and for my kids. I want to know I can do stuff that you need to be fit for, or at least have a bash. But I could cycle or swim (probably the best exercise of all) or get back into the gym. Why do I run? I don't know. How long will I keep running for? As long as the knees last? Until I eventually buy that kayak I've been harping on about for years? Who knows. In March I will have my second crack at the Six Foot Track and in July I want to have another crack at The Gold Coast, maybe my last and best chance of going sub-3. Is it the goals that keep me coming back? Will I "retire" after the Goldie? Do I really love it? Sometimes I question if I even enjoy it…Rambling, rambling, rambling…

I do enjoy running. Maybe the slogs over well beaten tracks are a bit of a grind, but if I go away on holiday anywhere I will go for a run and I will see things I'd not otherwise see. I will run along a beach, I'll run though deserted industrial streets. I'll head out exploring places I'd never drive or walk. I know my back yard pretty damn well. I love running along bush tracks and trails, love to take the camera with me. When life calms down a bit and I can again take the opportunity to run new trails again I'll fall in love with it again. For now? I'm a runner. I run. Simple innit? Let's change tack; I'm not going to be able to answer.

Janathon. It has been interesting to run with so many other people while running so far away and by myself. I have not read anywhere near as many blogs as I would have liked to. I could say that I'll go back and read them now it is over but I know I am unlikely to do that. There are only one or two participants that I feel I came to know just a little bit, Gary and Jenks. And that is because of my competitive nature. Gary has been awesome out front, has taken me back to places I knew as a kid and has helped me to keep going. Jenks suffered an injury that if avoided, would I am sure have seen us have a battle royale. I wish you all the best for your recovery. Other than that I've dipped into blogs and read bits here and there, commented a little. I'll not throw out the "you've all done SO well!" because I don't know if you have. I know some people have had their own personal battles; a dog that died, family trauma, work commitments, colds and injuries. but from what I have read there are a lot of people who have got a lot out of this, and respect to you.

…how weird is it that the dead dog was remembered first…

…and so we have to give massive props to the organisers, esp. Cathy, sponsors and whole Oscar-speech list of folks who have made this possible. I am a grumpy, miserable old bastard and this is the first community thing I've done in…well, maybe ever. And I feel good about it. I do feel that I've been part of something. That said, it won't stop me from slapping my brother for telling me about it at the tail end of 2010.

I can't finish without a word or two about the weather. And those two words are, in purely running terms, "fucking" and "horrible." Sydney is an energy sapping bastard of a place in January. There is a subtle insidiousness about it. It did not get massively hot where I live - we've had no 40degree days. But we have had humidity, which has a nasty habit of creeping up overnight. As the temp drops the humidity rises and your body is dealing with an apparent temp of 30degrees at night. It saps the energy. But bugger it, you just need to get on with it. Reading other participants musings I have pined for the near freezing bleakness of an English January. Mind you, finishing a run and jumping into the south pacific to cool off is not to be taken for granted...

I am a little gutted that I didn't get to "go large" at the end. I'd mapped a couple of runs that would have ended on the coast and I'd entertained the idea of finishing with a marathon. I think that by getting my target done I let my mental and physical guards down. It stands to reason that I am weakened at the moment, as will many other people be. With a goal left you can find the reserves you need to go on. Take that away and you run the risk. Back in my school days I'd routinely fall sick after exams. Of course it could be as simple as having AJ's croop and sneezing and snotting over me for the last couple of weeks meant something was bound to get through...probably a bit of A, a bit of B, all of the above.

Will I be back for Junathon? Th weather will certainly be kinder…To be honest it is unlikely. Maybe I'll do it, but I won't be in it to win it, what with the Gold Coast Marathon in early July and the small matter of daughter number 2 arriving in May. And the extension on the house. January has been full, and June looks like being even more so. But you never know, maybe I'l have a crack. Who am I kidding? Won't be in it to win it, ffs...

Don't worry dear reader, the battery will die soon and then I'll have to stop.

Going in to Janathon I thought I'd be looking at an average of 10km a day. I planned light days and longish days and 310km. As it turned out I managed to crack out an average of 10miles per day. If I had been asked in December if I could do this I would have probably said "maybe" and thought "no chance." I have stayed injury free, very surprising. I have been tired but managed to get up every day and crack out some miles. I am by no means exceptional. I am not a natural runner, I am Average Joe. So I know what I have done, and I suspect I know what most people can do. You just have to put your mind to it. FIDI, or fuck it, do it. I wonder what I could have done?

Right, I feel like shit and think it's time to head back home and sleep the day away.

There is one more thing…it's been emotional.