running commentary

Oh dear, another spell of blog missing in action (inaction?) The least I can do is bring the running stuff up to dte, so here goes the least I can do.

July was pretty a fairly light month, having started with the DNF on the Goldie and August starting wiht some diving that I did not feel like missing because I'd got all stupid and snotted my lungs up again. Then there was the City2Surf, which was the do-I-don't-I decider for having a crack at the Sydney Marathon and pretty soon after that I landed on do.

So I had about a month to get some distance into my legs and some belief that I could do Sydney's twisty 42k, grab a medal and be able to breathe properly the next day. As it turned out I did what I consider to be about the bare minimum training for the distance, but hey, I've got a ton of base over the years and I'm still stubborn and stupid enough to suck up a fair wallop of post-race discomfort that could have been avoided with more more better training and less stubborn stupidity.

So my final month saw me knock out a lap of Manly Dam - because I was missing the trails a bit, do a bit of faster stuff (well, one run of 5k, running in circles - but it still counts), I ran home from the new office a couple of times (18km) and I knocked out a smidge over 32k of one of my stock runs.

I get my car serviced at Chatswood Auto Repairs and done since I lived in Willoughby a few years back. They are a good bunch that I trust. The run home from the garage is a bit over 32k. Yes, you do need to take a rather daft - but quite picturesque - route home, but 32k is 32k. And that is my bare minimum long run for marathon training. A mixture of arrogance, ignorance and maybe a bit of self-belief tells me that it doesn't matter how bad I feel I can always knock out a 10k. So I took it easy, I took a few pictures and I came away thinking yes, I can do Sydney.

Three days later - legs and lungs intact - I registered.



The following weekend I found myself back in the medals (so to speak, please do not think I got a podium finish!) at one of my favourite events, the Pub2Pub. It does not start at a pub and since the renovations at the Newport Arms it no longer finishes at a pub. But the new finish is, in my opinion, far more conducive to sticking around for a brew-or-two; the finish festival, behind the surf club at Newport Beach, features a pop-up 4Pines beer garden.

This is a lovely event, despite the first bit being in calf-destroying sand along the beach at Dee Why. I finished in under an hour, which I was pleased with. That got me 58th place. At a little after 9am I had my first beer, and despite the drizzle I stayed and had a couple more with a good friend who also has this as an annual event.

It's poor form to turn up at a new job wiht a hangover, so finishing drinking by noon on the day before my first day at Blackmores seemed sensible. Don't judge me, it is one day a year!

My final run was one of the two home from work at which point I started my taper. By which I mean I didn't run for the last 10days. Normally I stop a bit further out, but this time around I felt I should get a few more miles into my legs and as I had no intention of going for a time I didn't need to be fully rested; this one was going to be treated as a long training run.

The Tuesday before race-Sunday I got a call from school saying my oldest was sick and could I collect her. If I'm honest then I'd say i should not have shoe-horned her into school because she had been barking like a seal, but she wasn't running a temperature...Anyway, collect her I did. Wednesday morning I took her to the doctor who confirmed she had a cold, said there was no point in giving her antibiotics and saw no reason to keep her out of school - my kinda doctor! So as she rapidly got on the mend I felt a familiar snottiness creeping up on me and got myself on the Lemsip. And Robitussen. And Vicks Sinex.

Situation normal then; feeling undertrained and battling a cold I went to bed on Saturday night wiht metaphoric fingers crossed that the cold I kept in my head would still be there in the morning. And lo, Sunday rolled around and although I was not feeling a hundred percent I could draw a full lungful of air.

It is an early but not too early start to the Sydney Marathon. I feel for the runners in the half, who go out at 6am, an hour earlier than the full runners. There was a c-o-l-d wind blowing on Sunday morning and many of the waiting runners were huddled behind anything they could huddle behind to get out of it; I ended up in the entrance to the car park of a nearby block of units. I should not complain too much though, because Saturday had been a mad-warm 31degrees with bushfires, before a "polar blast" brought things crashing down.

The wheelchairs went at 7am and five minutes later the marathon headed out. I was somewhere near the 3.30 pacer as the gun went but found that a bit crowded and slower than I could go, so by the time we got onto the bridge I found myself just in front of the 3.15 pacer and formulating my plan. I was always going to take it easy and aim to come home in 3.30. I'd thought that I'd do it by staying on the 3.30 bus but changed my mind because I felt OK to go out a bit quicker. So I'd stay in front of the 3.15 pacers until half way and allow myself to fade in the second half but not get overtaken by the 3.30 guys. Simples.

And that is pretty much how it panned out. I'll not dwell too much on the run because I'll end up bitching about the course (too many sharp turns, clearly created by someone who doesn't run it.) The weather turned out ot be almost perfect; there were a couple of places where the wind hit, but the course was far more sheltered than that start and the temperature was lovely. I got to half way reasonably comfortably and still nicely in front of the 3.15 guys. So I decided I'd stay in front until I got back to the city - which I did - and then that I'd try to stay in front until 32k - which I think I did. It was close run thing at the 32k mark as they bus overtook me.

With 10k to go I was having to gig a little deeper than I wanted to. At about 28k my right glute had
started to grumble and at 32k most of the rest of my right leg muscles had joined in so I felt a bit hobbley. I was likely being a bit soft as well.

The last 10k of Sydney is a trip out to Pyrmont and back. It can be quite soul destroying as when you run back through the City in the late-20s you pass about 500m from the finish line. But this time it came and went OK. Yes I was huffing and puffing, and yes I was shouting all sorts of insults at myself, but I knew I had it in the bag and I knew I'd get home - slowing up quite considerably - in under 3.30.

Just. OK, I had a bit to spare, 3.26ish. I was all sorts of aches at the end and the cold has lasted for the best part of following week. But hey, I got my medal and have put the Goldie behind me. The cold has stayed up in my head, so I should be back on the road again soon.

The men's wheelchair winner was Kurt Fearnley, who I regard as Australia's greatest athlete. In November he will be off to try and win New York for a sixth time. He is awesome. Go read about him.

And while on awesome, this weekend Eliud Kipchoge, who beat me in Berlin last year (and everyone else!) smashed the world record this year back in Berlin.

All in all, a good weekend over the full distance. Now, what do I do next...



...next I could start blogging more regularly #justsaying

Changes

Well a few things have-or-are-about to change(d) and I thought I'd start with a song. Was thinking Bowie's Changes. Or Sabbath's Changes. Or Sam Cooke's A Change is Gonna Come but I;m settling on Change's The Glow of Love because I love a bit of Luther.


So anyway, I've got a new job. It's a funny thing, because there is nothing at all wrong with the my current job - sorry, old job. But I got tired and I really needed a change and as luck would have it another job cropped up on the peninsula that should, if all things work out as I hope they do, sit right in my sweet spot. So I'm off to Blackmore's to be the DBA that they have never had. New role, familiar challenges, fresh start. Starting to look forward to it, but I won't lie, I am conflicted about my decision to leave because Flexischools is a special place. But I need something that isn't there.

So Friday was my last day, a little over three years after my start. It took some chunks out of me...or gave me ample opportunity for me to take chunks out of myself. I had spells of terrible anxiety and it is a little sad that I know the chances of that happening again were massively reduced and the support for staff massively increased. But my head went down and I could not get it back up. Anyway, I had a few at the 4Pines on Friday night, felt a little dusty on Saturday but not so dusty I could not pick up my new commuter toy on Saturday morning.

Took it for a spin this morning, up to the new office and back for a total of 38.5kn that reminded me that I have leg muscles that I don't use, that Pittwater Road is a lumpy bastard of a thing and that road bikes punish the un-trained arse.

Anyway, my new toy is a Volt Green Trek ALR5 gravel bike. Think road bike for mountain bikers. Will take fatter tires and the geometry is a bit more upright. Went ok this morning, averaged about 25kph so once I have my road legs back I should be averaging 30 or so. Of course the challenge is to make sure I keep up the running because cycling may be great cardio but it is not run training.

Segue into running and back to last Sunday when I did my somethingth City2Surf. I was not out for the land speed record and did a little over 62min for the 14km. Which was OK. Then I ran the 9km to Circular Quay and a ferry back to Manly. Still smarting from the disappointment of the Gold Coast Marathon, it was good to get a medal in my hand for finishing and then knocking out 23km. Still toying with the idea of doing the Sydney Marathon. Sponsored by my new employer dontchaknow.

Anyway, that's the big ticket items, dinner time so I'm done.

that was quite a week...at least it ended with a run

So I told my boss and the head of HR and the owner of the company that I simply don't want to be there. Which was met with an understanding disappointment, offers of a sabbatical, heading off to do something else then come back and an open door if I do up stumps. Which is awesome - in fact all my colleagues are awesome - but my spirit is broken and I'm almost certainly off. I'll come back to this in a later post...maybe.

So it was a pretty stressful week at work, not helped by the lingering cold stopping me from both running and meditating properly, and my weight creeping up as I have the odd beer or two. But hey, I'm having a break, albeit enforced, so I shouldn't beat myself up too much (I will.)

I'm feeling lazy, so this is a quick running post with a smattering of other stuff.


Felt a little dusty this morning after an all-too-rare and thoroughly enjoyable catchup at the 4Pines with Steve. Good company, good beer, good food, tick tick tick.


Standard Saturday morning swim followed by pies at Brookie Pie. I had their newest pie, a hearty winter pie made with Nomad Saison beer. Yum.

So obviously I then went, girls in tow, to the brewery to pick out some dark beers for the evening. In the Transit Lounge is an Adams Family Pinball machine that was distracting enough to keep the little ladies out of my hair.

To have a restful day because AJ is a bit unwell, we went to watch Ant Man and the Wasp. It's a good movie and I am a fan of Paul Rudd. I first came across him on a Lip Sync battle - back in the day when it was a funny skit in the Jimmy Fallon show and not the abso-fucking-lutely-shite TV show it has morphed into. Ahem.



Back home and I felt well enough to have a run. I was feeling rather OK, so decided to head down to Queenscliff and back, which would be maybe 10k, probably a bit under. It was going all rather well. Just a dull ache in the legs, but they were turning over OK. I was taking it easy, being all sensible...and then..boom.

At a little under 7k my left achilles or calf or all of the above decided to tighten up all of a sudden and I stopped. Hmm. Bugger. I took a couple of gentle jogging steps and nope, definitely time to stop running. I stop/saved my run and started to trudge home. OK, it wasn't really I trudge, I was annoyed but not devastated. I guess the fatigue I still carry caught up wiht me, various bits and pices engaged to help various other bits and pieces and boom.

After a few hundred metres I took a few very gently jogging paces. Yeah, that'll be OK to nurse home. Anyway, it was cold and I didn't fancy a 2km walk home, so I very slowly ran another 1.6km and then walked the last bit.

Things are tightening up a bit now, but these should help. Temporal confusion reigns, the first can and a half has most definitely helped.

Flagellation Revelation

I woke up this morning with legs that felt as if I'd run a marathon. Which was odd considering that was precisely what I had not done yesterday. I was feeling slightly better about myself because looking at my heart rate on the 15k I did run...well, I was running a bit hot. My average HR was 184bpm and I topped out at over 190. Yes, I went out at a reasonable clip with the 3hr bus, but still...that's a bit high and I am glad I was smart enough to stop. In Berlin, which I completed, I averaged 167bpm and max 183. On top of that my shoes are still sweat soaked...so yeah, conditions were challenging and I behaved like a grown up.

But...after a couple of hours in the Burleigh Brewery yesterday afternoon I did finish the day wiht the register page of September's Sydney Marathon open on my laptop. I didn't pull the trigger, but it is on my mind. And to complete the running commentary (can you what I did there!?) when I got home today I decided I'd go for a gentle run around the block. After placing my GC2018 bib on the fridge, where it will stay, held on the door by an Eric Cartman magnet, until I complete a marathon. Then I shall bin it.

Anyway, based upon nothing more than gut feel I believe one of the best ways to treat sore legs is with running. The reason your legs are sore is not because you've done too much running but rather you've done too little. Of course this breaks down when you go out hard or long, but day to day and over shorter distances (it is all relative) you should not end up aching (much) unless you are out of condition. So I hobbled off around the block. Therefore what I needed was a run to a) treat my legs, and b) punish myself unnecessarily for being soft.


I was not far into my self-flagellation loop when I had my revelation. I didn't finish my marathon. Therefore my goal is now to finish my next marathon. No need to have a crack at something silly, I just need to get another one chalked up.




I was quite pleased with myself. So I popped into the bottle shop on my run and put a 4Pines 10th Anniversary 4-beer-box-set in the their fridge, telling the guy (yes, yes, yes, I need to remember people's names) I'd be back later to collect it. Which I was and I did. And now, as I type, I am enjoying one of said beers, an El Dorado IPA. Quite nice it is too.

So that's my arrival back home dealt with. I picked the kids up from their dance lessons, had a couple of interesting phone calls (more on that later) and put on a wash load of my skanky running kit. Dinner was bubble and squeak, so clearly the ladies had a roast/baked dinner yesterday. Bubble wins.

Meanwhile, back in Queensland this morning...it was a pretty relaxed start to the day. You'd not know it is winter up there, a glorious sunny morning and we bimbled over to breakfast, packed and left the AirBnB at around 10:00am. Dave and fam were off to Kirra for some beach time so it was easy for them to drop me near the airport. By near I mean at the RSL Art Union prize houses we are all convinced we are going to win.

They're really quite nice, maybe a little too far from the beach...

that was the week that was

OK, a quick bridging post from Burleigh Heads where I am holed up in a very nice AirBnB with a couple of close friends and their youngest daughter. Tomorrow Dave and I will head off to run the Gold Coast marathon, both woefully undertrained and unready for it. Ho hum. For my part the problem has been a lingering cold that robbed me of my last long run before the holiday in Bali and is still, well, lingering. So I didn't do my last long run and I've not run since May.

And that is a bit of a bugger because after an under-par performance in Berlin last year I was hoping to have another crack at a sub-3hr up on here on what is an extremely flat and usually quite fast Gold Coast course. And despite where I am, there is still a bit of me that thinks I may head off on the 3hr bus at 07:20am tomorrow morning, daft though that is.

Then there is the other bit that says nah, fuckit, just get through it. You've not got a PB in you so don't kill yourself out there. That bit go the upper hand at lunchtime when, to wash down my massive spag bol at the Burgleigh Heads Surf Club, I had a Little Creatures Pale Ale. And I may have shared a small sour with Dave just before dinner. Yeah, 2018 is not a PB year.

Anyway, the weather up here in Queensland is quite glorious. I'm not a big fan of the Goldie, but in Winter it can be lovely. The water looks cracking, it is in the low 20s without humidity and not a breath of wind. Last night I stayed with Sal's sis and family in Palm Beach and I slept like a baby, which was nice. I head breakfast by the beach at Avvia with Sal's eldest sister and we were joined by another friend who lent me the book Brain Training for Runners. To make the trade fair I told her about the Barkley Marathons documentary The Race that Eats its Young. Exchange is no robbery.

Anyway, as I continue to work backwards, I flew up to the Goldie yesterday so I'd have today as a nice bimbly chilled day before the race and because I fancied picking up my race number on Friday rather than Saturday when I figured the expo would be chaotic. I'm not a fan of the race expo wiht its Ikea-esque one-way snaking path from bib collection to exit. I don't need to buy any new kit, or magazines, or nutrition, or anything else, just get me outta here!

A post shared by Kevin Foreman (@auswomble) on Jun 28, 2018 at 10:04pm PDT

I hadn't taken the full day off work (though after the week I had I do feel like taking the rest of my life off work, maybe more on that later) and popped into the Manly office for a couple of hours before the ferry, train, plane, bus travel to the Gold Coast Convention Centre then final bus to Palm Beach. Sounds like quite a hike, but was pretty simple. Not much of interest from the trip; of course coming over the Harbour on the Manly Ferry was lovely, I feel the business class (and seat 1A) trip up was a bit of a waste as I had not abandoned all hope of a PB yesterday so didn't have a drink - more fool me. I think if I squint a bit I can see the office in that second instagram picture...

Right, I think that will do for now. If I go back any further this will descend quickly into a rant about how shite work was in I don't feel like recalling that right now.

Maybe later. OK, race eve sleep time.

Jillian's bloody Cakery

I slept reasonably well and meditated reasonably badly before rolling out of bed this morning. Too much on my mind to drift away, but the deep breathing was good and I felt OK. Right up until I found the red back spider just in front of my tub full of running gear in the laundry.

Normally I leave them alone; yes, they're a dangerous spider but they're pretty placid and unlikely to nip you unless you ram a thumb up their arse. But this one was a little too close to places kids and wife may potter about, so she met a grisly - but quick - end, thwacked with a thong/flip-flop/jandel.

Not a good start to the day then.

Work was pretty much back to back meetings and an interview with a potential senior dev who was doing well, then not so well, then not knowing what an acronym he'd used on his CV stood for - really not so well at all. Shame, he was a lovely lad.

I did manage to nip out at lunch time to grab a pie and slab of "oh yes you will be running tonight" from Jillian's Cakery.

It had been pointed out to me earlier, when I was getting my mid morning coffee. Banana, some sort of icing cream, salted caramel New York cheese cake. Fuck me it was good. And great motivation to run, even if it needed to be late and after Sal got back from meeting a friend after work. Which it was as she did, but 11km is plenty of penance I say. It was rather chilly this evening too. I avoided the rain, which was good, but I felt justified in pulling on the Helly Hansen classic this evening before donning a shirt. I quite like the look of the old school Helly gear - the navy blue with white detailing on the arms.

Anyway, that is a little bit of today. No touchy feely stuff, but I'm tired and need to finish this gin off before I go to bed. June will be mostly dry, what with the Gold Coast marathon on July 1st, so a couple of wee nips at the tail end of May won't hurt

It was the best it times it was the wurst of times

Race day and I woke up early with a slightly sore throat and maybe a bit of a temperature, but I always wake up feeling a bit iffy when I sleep in a hotel. I got into my race gear and disposable keep-warm-clothes and watched a bit of tele. Got some fluids down. Opened the window and checked the temperature. Did all of that again. Got bored and twitchy. I reread some of the event info brochure. I checked the rail map in case the stations had moved since I last checked it. Then at a bit before 7am I headed for the start. The advise was to get there by 7:30, one hour forty five minutes before kick-off.

My hotel is near the Spittlemarkt U bahn station. Line U2. Just four stops to Potzdamer Platz and a short walk to the start. I bought and validated a ticket. Not sure why you need to buy and then validate a ticket, but you do, so I got my ticket from the machine, stamped in the nearby red box and then waited a couple of minutes for my train. It was a far more successful public transport experience than Saturday's. Darren and I failed to find a ticket machine at Ostbahnhof, eventually found a ticket office, found our platform and got on our train. We then realised we'd not validated our tickets. So we got off the train. Its doors closed and we had somehow managed to miss a train we'd actually been on.

Back to race day.

The overnight rain had backed off to a bit of slight drizzle. Low cloud and very grey. I think it was about 13 degrees. I wandered up to the start/finish area; past the holocaust memorial, Brandenburger Tor and the Reichstag then into the Tiergarten. Bit of a tourist route. Quite a lot of runners about.

I was traveling light. I'm not a fan of bag drops - or rather the collection afterwards - and my support crew, Darren, was bringing along my post-race clothes. So no bag drop and I meandered to the start bays. I was starting in block C but I took a wrong turn and started wandering in from the back of block H. It was quite a long walk to get to my block, reinforcing just how many runners were taking part - 43,852 according to the website. That is lot of marathoners. Blocks A, B and C were relatively small. I was quite close to the front, a bit nervous because I didn't really think I had a chance of getting close to the 3hours that earns you your place in block C. But hey, I've done the miles in the past and I've got a sub-3 under my belt so I can lay legitimate claim to my place.

The handbikes where first off at 08:45, half an hour before the runners. Mad looking machines, like a recumbent but one you pedal with your hands out in front of your chest. I walked down to just in front of the startline to watch them shoot off and then went back to my block. Then back to my block, so I saw the wheelchaisr start at just before 9 on the big screen. Twenty minutes to go and I threw down a lemon tea (which is usually a Gatorade.) Fifteen to go and the disposable trousers were off. Five minutes to go and the elites were being introduced, I removed my throw-away shirts and was ready to run.

And then we were off. A brief shuffle through the start gate and over the timing mats and straight into the running. I was running between two of the three hour pacers - optimistic, but hey, I didn't know what sort of shape I was in so maybe I'd be able to surprise myself.

For those who prefer numbers and graphs to words...here is my Strava upload.

I felt quite comfortable, probably because of the flatness of the course and the adrenalin that comes with running a major among so many people. I was feeling quite focused, which does not make for a great blog post because it means I was not paying a lot of attention to what was going on around me.

The first kilometer was 4.21 - not bad for a first km, what with the early jostling and getting on pace. I was a little frustrated with my typically English politeness when it came to yielding in elbow clashes and criss crossing. The first water station was a bit of a bundle but not too bad and I was keeping with the three hour bus. There had been a very slight headwind and it was a wet course with a bit of rain. The tower in Alexanderplatz was lost in low cloud. I was thinking the world record might not be broken today (ha, as if we should expect a world record!) At least I was on for a PB on this course...

At 10k I was still with the bus but the pace was very flat - nothing was being put in the bank for the fade towards the end of the race. And so my mental wobbling started. I wasn't going to beat 3hours, but that's OK. By 12km I thought I'd fallen off of the bus, but I spotted a three hour pacer over my right shoulder; weird. Maybe I'd still pull a decent time? I thought I'd keep pushing until half way and see how I felt.

By a third of the way through I was slowing, but not dramatically. But from here it started to go south for me. By 17k my right knee was starting to ache. I remember thinking it'd be OK, only 25km left! I went through the half in a little under 1:32 and at this point was thinking I'd still be OK for 3:15. Then my left knee decided to start aching. And by 27k I was getting a dull ache in my back, just above my left butt cheek. From here on I was digging in. There was an aid station wiht some sort of power drink in a squeezy container and cola gels; I grabbed one of each and gulped them both down.

The race is very well supported; lots of people, lots of noise. A great atmosphere (I wonder what it is like then the weather is better?) I tried to distract myself from my bodily woes by high-fiving kids along the way. It didn't really work. My race bib had my name on it, and there were fairly regular shouts of encouragement from the spectators. I was getting frustrated with myself now; I realised I had nothing left in the tank and wasn't pushing. But I was struggling to just enjoy myself for fear of throwing my back out or having a knee crumble. Bugger.

Darren gave me a shout at, I think, about 36km. I waved and smiled and he videoed and then I got back to struggling on. I think the 3:15 bus went past me at about 35k. I didn't even contemplate trying to keep up.

I was having a mental tussle and trying to stop beating myself up for my under-performance.

• I flew in on Friday morning; not a lot of time to recover from a big flight.
• Two weeks ago I had a back-spasm thing and needed some physio work just to get to the plane.
• My best was a couple of years ago when I was doing a lot more running than I do nowadays
• I have had to recover from an achilles injury ("if you keep running now you'll probably snap it")
• I DID earn my place in the C block
• For fucks sake, I was going to finish the Berlin Marathon!

...yeah, it didn't really work. I was on the verge of tears a couple of times, spirit pretty broken at not being able to live up to my own unrealistic expectations.
Of course I may have just been being soft, because my form was still OK and I did not stop, did not walk a single step. The last couple of km came up pretty slowly, but I did manage a quick grimaced smile as I rounded the corner on Unter Den Linden and saw the Brandenburg Gate looming ahead of me. Through the gate, another couple of hundred metres and...done.
I finished in 3:21:31 which is still a respectable time and I will get around to congratulating myself.
I collected my rather hefty medal and a plastic sheet to keep myself warm. There was a goody bag with some food in it (fruit, dodgy croissant, protein bar and  a bottle of water) and then I got an Erdinger alcohol free beer. I wandered to the family reunion area, past the best organised bag collection tent I have ever seen; the bags were lined up on hooks in tents with wooden floors! Maybe I'll use the bag drop next time.

Cankles be gone

Weird. My phone did not know that cankles was a real word.

Ok, I had a reasonable night's sleep and woke a bit before 5am. So pretty standard for me. My left ankle once again shows signs of containing bone. I did a reasonable amount of stretching and wandering on the planes, kept hydrated and fed and didn't have any booze. But I still canckled like a boss.

So let me finish off yesterday.

Waiting for my last short hop flight to Berlin were a few skinny Africans. I think I can say that with impunity, especially after spending most of the trip from Frankfurt to Berlin chatting to Joseph. Whi is very skinny. And is from Kenya. My opening gambit was "you look like a runner" to which he replied "so do you." I should have gone back with "No dude, you really *really* look like a runner. I mean, you like one of those guys you see winning marathons and shit" But I didn't.

Instead we chatted about Kenya (I really should go, take the family, not all runners are fast and I'd be able to beat a load of them), his shoe-and-clothes collections for his homeland (7 tons), training, life in Australia and loads of other stuff. Oh, and I'm fairly sure he said he was hoping to run 2.10 but I was extremely tired and may have misheard him. I'll see how he went when I check on Sunday.

As I was now flying domestic the bag collection was a piece of piss, no immigration and I was right by an exit right next to the ticket machine for tickets that were not for the bus into town. I learnt after buying a ticket from said machine. So I bought a second ticket, this time for the TXL bus to Alexandwrplatz.

From here it was an old skool walk to my hotel. About a mile. Using a map. A paper map. Which worked out ok. Until I met up with Darren I was on sketchy Wi-Fi or off the grid. Deep breaths, it's Ok, you can upload your pictures later...

I dropped my bags at the hotel, used their Wi-Fi to locate the expo location which I circled on my map and I then wandered off again, keeping the blood flowing to and through my elephant ankles.

The walk to the expo is probably about 30minutes but a coffee stop and a camera in hand slowed me down. That and my confidence in my map reading skills compelling me to stop and recheck every 8 steps.

Berlin is extremely cool. I love the mixed architecture, the feeling of history all around, the graffiti, the canals and waterways, the bike friendliness, the funky hidden stuff, the fact you can take your dogs with you to hotels and into shops. It's just great. Don't know what it would be like to live here, but it is made for ambling around.

Getting back on track, I walked to the expo and found a lot of people. But with a stereotypical German efficiency the line of runners and inline skaters there to collect race bibs moved quickly and I was in, had my chip and printed-on-the-spot number in a few minutes and was ready to escape the expo.

I did do a couple of laps of not really looking at thigs I knew I was not going to buy, wandered past the Erdinger beer stand (alkoholfrie) and was amused to find a few smokers dotted about (crazy Europeans.) I pondered buying an event shirt but am a bit superstitious about buying before. The only time I did it in the past was for London. And I went on to get injured and miss the event. I went back the next year. By which time I'd moved to Sydney. I don't want to stack up too many events where the trip to the start line is long haul.

On the way back I took a few pictures, mostly of graffiti but also of Checkpoint Charlie. Well, I am on holiday. I was approached by a deaf guy who showed me a bit of paper on which he was collecting signatures for something that seemed to be to do with making life better for the deaf. I'd been up for 40 hours and wasn't too sharp. As I was digging in my pockets for change he got quite shirty about me not handing him 10euros. As I don't know German sign language for "I'm about to give you all the money I have so how about you just fuck off sunshine" I sort of staggered off with the feeling is just been fleeced. Ah well.

I stopped for some lunch before getting back to the hotel to check in. There is a friendly little laugh sound that Germans may give when you say "danke" after ordering in English. Whereas the English may think they are being polite the Germans are, I think, amused and bemused that we should bother with such a token effort. There should be a single word - German word - for that laugh.

Skipping ahead I redeemed myself at dinner. I'd wandered to locate Darren's hotel and was a bit off the beaten track on my way back. Dinner was a doner and I had a chat in mixed broken German and broken English with the guy from Istanbul who was working there. Nice bloke, chatty, has a 7 year old and makes a mean kebab.

The walk to Darren's hotel is 2.1km but tired and with a camera it seemed longer. There are some funky bars by the river and yet more graffiti for me to take pictures of. Stickering is big in Berlin. The sprayed graf is a bit ordinary. There are other interesting pieces too; posters, tiles, a small pot of flowers on top of street sign. I like it.

Last word on the day can go to Sri Chinmoy in this picture.

Imagine a world ruled by love - Sri Chinmoy

I...am...on...holiday

Been a while since I've posted - I kid myself that Instagram pictures speak a thousand words so there is no need to blog - but I reckon the opportunity to kill a few minutes while waiting for a plane presents an opportunity to dust off the cobwebs. Blogwebs?

So I am on holiday. Yep, you heard. Holiday. By myself. First trip flying solo since kids arrived. Almost; I did a work trip in 2010 when AJ was one, but other than that - Fiji with the family, nothing on my tod.

This holiday came about almost by accident. In my mind it went something like this: While wondering if I'd ever run another marathon - post blowing up my achilles (hyperbole!) and recovering but then putting in my slowest ever Six Foot Track time - I meandered to the Berlin Marathon website and spotted that it takes place when Australian schools are on holiday. My work is tied to school terms. This means it is a quiet time for me. So I put my name in the ballot. Assuming I'd not get a spot. I was probably a bit drunk.

So I got a spot in this year's Berlin Marathon. And as Berlin is reasonably close to London I decided to chuck a couple of weeks on the trip. So here I am. Checked in, plugged in and waiting for my first flight. Given that I tried to VPN into work before I started blogging, I don't think I am quite in holiday mode yet. But once I'm in the air there is no point in worrying about stuff.

I'll worry anyway; maybe more about that later.

So, a few idle musings.

It was only later that I thought a good thing to do when the kids are off school might be to spend time with the kids and not piss off by myself to run around Berlin then get drunk with my mates. #worldsbestdad.

As my ferry pulled away from the wharf, clear blue sky above and clear water below, 25 degrees - I could not help but think this felt a bit like a holiday. Drifting past the bridge and Opera House (with resident seal in residence) that thought was tough to shake. But I was wearing a hoodie, so I felt like a local (and a lot like a soft southern shite.)

too much plastic!

I had a Stabucks coffee which was as ordinary and inoffensive as I remember from when I last had one. I can't remember when I last had one, but I am sure it was ordinary and inoffensive. I think I was trying to convince myself I was on holiday. I subsequently beat myself up over the ridiculous amount of single use plastic I'd got for free with my single slice of toast. Grrr...

Check in was uneventful. Bit bored now.

The coming challenge is to remain awake for the duration of flight 1 (a bit over 8hours from 3pm, upstairs on an A380) so I can sleep overnight on my 12hours second leg. That one gets in at 7am-ish. If I can do the awake/sleep thing, the theory goes, I don't get jet lagged, disembark running on local time and have a cruisy 48hours to get over the flight before the race on Sunday. It is a beautiful plan.

OK, I'm rambling. Time to get some sounds on and chill.

it is far easier to stop than start again

It was remarkably easy to give up running. Even after 12years and fuck knows how many miles. Paraphrasing a little, but when a physio says something along the lines of "if you keep running you'll maybe snap that achilles" then stopping is pretty easy. So I stopped. But I hate not moving, so I started doing my HIIT stuff and cycling to work.

But the achilles feels OK now. I don't limp the firt couple of steps of the morning so I figure I'm ok to start again. Slow and steady.

Starting up again after six months is bloody horrible. I think the cycling, squats and burpees are great exercises and I do tend to beat the crap out of myself a bit so they will have been beneficial. But they're not running and I cerainly don't have running legs at the moment.

This is going to be  very short post because Mission Impossible Ghost Protocol is on and I'd far rather watch Tom Cruise's straight-hand running than moan about my running.

THE FUNKMASTERS

And...relax. I had 17km to get to my revised target of 600km and decided I'd knock t out in one go so by the time I got to work I could say it's over.

Yet more proof, as if any were needed, that the eighties were awesome.

I was expecting a heavy-legged slog today. It's been a long month - aren't all the -athons? - and the finish line was in sight. I knew I'd not have any difficulty covering the distance (don't want to sound flash, but I can grind out the Ks) and I always run out of a bit of steam at the tail end. I was in a bit of a mental fugg on the way in and didn't know how I'd add the 6k to the commute.

My decision, made on the fly, was to get the extra done before I got to the bridge so that from the steps I could trundle in to work. And that's what I did; I didn't take the Galipolli Steps but ran the hill, I ran down through Mosman and then around Cremorne Point and then did a loop under the northern side of the bridge before the final couple of km to work.

And I was done. Seventeen and a half commute to work. Finished at 8am in Sydney, so I think I was the first to finish this year? I've been typically slack on touring the other entrants' blogs so I don't know if there are any Kiwis who beat me to the finish line?

Maybe see y'all in January. Putting my feet up now.

EUROPE

Obviously in the last week of my job and Juneathon there is good reason to slip in The Final Countdown by Europe. And I was going to. But I just couldn't resist another number from Europe because it is so awesomely cheesy hair metal. Enjoy Prisoners in Paradise!

Not a lot to report on the road today. It was a double JAC (Just Another Commute) there and back again. The body is starting to ache a bit, different aches on different days as I suppose different bits engage in different ways to help other bits out. I don't know, I work in IT, I'm not a PT.


And I'm spent. More tomorrow I hope, on Juneathon the last.

AVERAGE WHITE BAND

It was only ever a matter of time before I'd crack out Let's Go Round Again by Average White Band. It's a great tune from a great band, yet more evidence that the 80s were awesome and completely appropriate for today's run. Yesterday I did my 20km local loop. Yes, I ran a little bit on firetrail yesterday whereas today I took the road and not the firetrail, but it's the same run. So fire up the funk.

Brother and sister-in-law and their kids were over last night. I had a bit more beer and wine than is sensible if you're planning a morning run. With no dog to walk I didn't get up at silly o clock. H came in and woke me, as usual, but instead of getting up and heading out I staggered into the girls' room, slid onto the bottom bunk bed and fell back asleep until after 8am. AFTER 8AM. I don't think I've slept that late for 6years. By the time I got up everyone else was up and breakfast was being prepared. I asked if there were any plans for the morning and there weren't, so my breakfast was a pint of water with a Berocca before pulling on some running gear and heading out.

I was a little slower than yesterday, but if felt quite laboured. Given last night's extra beer and the get-up-and-go-ness of the morning, and the 19hour gap between the two 20km runs I'm not going to beat myself up too much about my pace. It was another stunning winter morning and by the time I got home there had not been a lot of change in the motivation and activity level of the rest of the household.

So about the departure of my dog...

Rowlf is an Irish Water Spaniel and we've had him since he was a pup. They're a relatively rare breed but ticked all the boxes we'd setup to be ticked. A large, character-filled, hairy dog, fit, lover of water. I'd first met one in Richmond in the UK and got in touch with a breeder (and now friend) before we got back to Australia. We met his dogs and made our mind up even before we got back to Australia; we were going to have an IWS. The breeder is a wonderful, passionate and dedicated Victorian. We were vetted to make sure we looked like decent owners had to wait a while until he came along but that is all good. You can take it as read that I'm not a fan of puppy farms and pet shops in retail malls.

I'll not bore you with the details of his life with us. He was part of the family. He grew into a stunning looking thing who could walk and swim all day. Smart and stubborn (somewhat like his owners.) I am obviously biased but I do challenge you to find a better looking dog outside of the pampered poochery world of show dogs. And boy can he swim.  Not one for swimming for fun he can retrieve from water all day.

He once escaped from our old house. The home backing onto ours was being renovated and the shared fence dividing our properties was damaged. The builder managed to catch our Cocker, Rumpole, but not Rowlf. Rowlf was sitting in the carport whe Sal got home. He knew were he lived and brought himself home. It was a one off walkabout...although given a chance he would bolt to our neighbours house, shoot out onto their deck and tuck into their dogs food. So, with hindsight, maybe the clues to his eventual downfall - as a resident member of our family - were there to see.

When we moved house (our family got larger before our old house could, so we moved to a bigger one rather than extend the old one) he escaped a couple of times and we put this down to the move. After all, he is a dog and probably took a little longer to realise that our new house was his new home. But we all settled in pretty quickly. He'd happily sleep outside; in fact he preferred sleeping outside to inside.

And then, about a year ago, something changed and he contracted wanderlust. Sporadic to begin with, but he would jump the back gate (no mean feat, it is a reasonable sized gate) and wander off. It was all about his head; there were times when someone - a tradesman, a deliveryman - would leave the gate open and he'd go nowhere. But he knew he could take himself off.

Last week or maybe the week before Facebook did that thing where it posts a picture that you posted a year ago. Mine was a picture of Rowlf sleeping and my caption was to the effect that he was sleeping off a long walk and I had no idea where he had walked to. I'd got a call from H's daycare, where he had turned up. Presumably fed up of being alone in the garden, he'd decided to track down the nearest pack-member. I was retelling the story in the bakery the following morning, Friday, when a local council ranger I know told me that Rowlf had been to the bakery on Wednesday. No, I said, you must mean Thursday; he escaped on Thursday. No, definitely Wednesday. Ah, so he took himself for a walk two days running. Bugger.

The next few months were unpredictable. Some days he was fine, others he might try and escape. The fine days massively outnumbered the escape days. But there a problem creeping up on us. In response to him escaping we would feel we had to keep him in the house some days. If it looked like he was in an escaping mood (like you can tell!) he would be left inside. While the thought of him getting hit by a car was awful the thought of him causing an accident where people got hurt was even worse. Could we make our gates higher? Maybe, I don't know. And even if we did, he'd find another place or opportunity to get out. If he could get his paws on top of a fence he could scramble up and over it. He's fit and he's smart.

Sally had the situation sussed months before I did. My head was in the clouds and I thought we'd simply need to hang on until we got our carport built and we could add more dog-proofing. I stonewalled every attempt to talk sense into the situation. "He's a dog, he's predictable, things will get better and I REFUSE to let him go because no one can look after him as well as I do!" Silly me. He was a pain in the arse, but he was my pain in the arse!

I still cannot pin down what changed for us or him, but his escaping did get worse. I could walk and swim him, come home and the girls might play with him in the garden, he'd have a feed, he'd be happy and all tail-wagging content. Then you'd take your eye off of him and he'd be up and over the back gate. And to add to the mix, despite being well fed and spot-on his correct weight, he is food obsessed. On a few occasions he would get out, knock over a neighbour's bin and work his way through the contents. We're lucky he didn't do himself any damage, but the following day would not be pleasant behind him with the poo-bag.

You can't leave a dog in the house day after day. It's not right. And it will serve only to increase the likelihood of him jumping as soon as gets outside. We had a positive feedback loop. While I'll absorb shite forever in a state of self-imposed ignorance, Sally is far more pragmatic. We were becoming constrained in what we could do as a family because we could not "trust" the dog. Sal did not want the dog in the house all the time and most importantly, it was bad for him. Or rather it was not as good for him as it could be. He is, after all, a dog; he was getting food and shelter and was certainly not unhappy. But still...not great.

I finally agreed that Rowlf needed to go, but I refused to make any arrangements myself. I was convinced that no-one could look after him as well as I do. But Sal did something really fucking simple. She called Kathy, the breeder we had got him from.

And Kathy took him back.

He is reunited with his brother.

He will be worked properly.

He will have a great life.

I was in floods of tears yesterday when I dropped him at the airport. It was horrible. I'm welling up a bit now.

But it's all good.

It was the right thing to do and that is what matters, not my temporary feeling of grief for a future I'll not have with Rowlf. I was lucky to have the past I did with him. Kathy has sent a ton of reassuring messages. The most reassuring was that Rowlf was eating as soon as he arrived. That was an immense relief, and probably why I managed to sleep until after 8am this morning.

FLORENCE AND THE MACHINE

Very brief today, more tomorrow including the story of today.

I took Rowlf, my dog, for a walk then put him on a plane to his new home.

His original home with the breeder. Sad for me after almost 8years, good for him. There is a story to tell but we have guests tonight and I don't have tome to write it.

Easy song of the day for this sad runner, based on the title alone.

It's a good sad though, best for everyone. Especially Rowlf.

In running news, I did pretty much the same 20km loop that I did last weekend. Was quite nice.

JAMES BLUNT

The morning started as many have with a coffee and a dog walk and a commute to work. I got to the bridge and on the steps passed another runner. He looked like a runner. Around half way over the bridge he eased passed me and I stayed with him. I was in no mood for a race, but figured I'd use him as a pacer and get a little above my usual plod. After a while I pulled alongside him and started a conversation. I told him I was in no mood for a race and asked if he was training or commuting. He was commuting and he asked me the same question and I told him it was a bit of both, with Juneathon thrown in for good measure.

And then he told me that 100km was about the shortest distance over which he raced. And he'd been invited to run La Ultra High. Only 10 people were invited to run it, and if you take a look at the course - a single stage 333km through the Himalayas - you'll understand why. It started to dawn on me that this guy, Jason Dunne, was one of those people that you read about but don't think really exist. In his training he was averaging a marathon distance a day and even managed to knock out an overnight 100km before going to work the following day. He is off the end of the bell curve. Nice guy though, if you met him in the street you'd not pick him.

So, have a bit of James Blunt "High." Let it be known that there are no guilty pleasures, just pleasures, and I quite like James Blunt. So there.

The run home was just another commute, but it saw me scrape back to a 20km/day average and tick over 520km for the month to date. I'll take that. The sunset was quite a stunner. Mostly cloudless with a deepening blue sky leading down to an orange that became a red on the horizon.

4 NON BLONDES

Twenty five days and my month is still trying to run up this bloody great hill, to work and my resignation. Or something like that.

Another tired day*, low on inspiration so not a hugely representative song choice. But I like it; one hit wonder (I think.) Their song Superfly is kinda cool too. I was 22 when What's Up? was a hit in 1992. Wow.

Dropping off the distance a bit for a couple of reasons. Want to have a decent rest before the CPUltra, and what with me leaving my job at the end of next week I do need to start taking home the shit I've accumulated over the past eight-and-a-bit years. Would rather not run home with a bag full of the morning's stinking running gear, many pairs of sunglasses (I was drunk one night and bought 60 pairs of sunglasses for $80), one of my Olympus Trip film cameras and a few rolls of film...just stuff.

So today was a single run to work, the 11km takes me to 498km after 25 days. Plan is to run to and from work tomorrow and finish this working week and day 26 on the 20km/day average I'm looking for.

That's kinda all for today. Sorry folks.

*the tiredness probably not helped by the three bottles of IPA I had last night. Carbs are good though, right?

YELLO

This far into the month of juneathon and with my unplanned song-a-day-sort-of-theme coming along quite nicely (One Direction notwithstanding) I was running my usual run wondering what to use for another day of JACs (Just Another Commute.)

Inspiration came on the bridge as I eased past another runner and thought he decided to stick with me...for a while. I'm pretty sure he did speed up and maintain his10ft gap for a while before I dropped him (in my mind) or he just slowed down because, really, why bother (more likely)?

The answer to that question is "The Commuter Olympics", a phrase I heard from a semi-pro triathlete who once worked in a building I once worked in and I'd chat with every so often. I hate getting beaten over the bridge, so will invoke The Commuter Olympics if someone tries to stay with me, or I'll pick a target ahead and try to beat them. I usually do pretty well.

So today I thought of Yello.

Good facial hair. I look like a hobo at the moment with an unkempt red beard, flecked with grey. Doesn't help that I like wooly hats and wandering around unshod. A colleague I have worked with for maybe 5years genuinely mistook me for a homeless person last week. My beard is, to coin phrases my brother uses to describe his, a "beard to be feared" and "full hobo."

It was a short day at work. AJ was being presented with a Principal's Gold Award for something or other this afternoon at a special school assembly to be held at 2pm. A more engaged parent would likely know more than I did. So I did 4hours in the office, mainly so I could run in and back (I could have worked from home) before leaving at noon. The run home was a slow, lead-legged plod in some wonderfully un-wintery weather. I've been Sydney based since 1999 and I may be getting soft, but it can get cold here. A proper bone-chilling cold. Not today though. Maybe 20 degrees, wispy clouds in a mostly blue sky. Lovely.

But it was just another commute, albeit in daylight hours.

The assembly was cute. I'd been to one last year when AJ was in kindergarden and it seemed to go on forever and it seemed like everyone got some award or other. Maybe because I was (and still am) getting used to this having-a-kid-at-school malarky, maybe because I have no recollection of anything like this from my school days. Of course I may have been a dunce...

The letter we'd got from school said she was getting a "gold award" which turns out to be pretty special. Only 8 kids in each year get it, for excellence in maths and English. Seems my laissez-faire approach to schooling is paying off - go me!

But really, go AJ! The especially touching bit came yesterday though; she knew she was getting an award but seemed just as (if not a little bit more) pleased that I'd be there to see her collect it.  bought her an ice ream after the assembly and gave her her first pair of Dunlop Volleys, dad's favourite shoe. She seemed happy.

I guess I'm doing something right.

ONE DIRECTION

I only ran to work today. So in One Direction. 

Sorry about that. I mean they're good at what they do, but ye-gods...

I'm tracking well enough this month. Strava (which syncs with Garmin Connect, which syncs with my Garmin Vivoactive, which syncs with my phone) shows 465km for the month. Runningfreeonline, which no longer seems to sync with anything I own, shows a bit less. I suppose I've forgotten to save a couple of .tcx files from GC and manually upload them to RFO. It's a wonderfully quaint way to do things.

This difference annoyed me and I wanted to fix it.

But what annoys me more is that runningfreeonline does not upload my miles - and never has - in the correct timezone. So it all went into the too hard basket today when I started trying to find the gaps. I supose it would have helped if I'd added any blurb to the uploaded RFO miles instead of petulantly clicking save and sulking a bit. Every day. The saving grace is that it still looks as though I've run every day - which I have, just not at the times RFO says I have - so I'l not get disqualified from Juneathon.

What's the date? June 23rd. Over three weeks and this is the first time I've let my irritation at RFO get the better of me.

A-n-y-w-a-y, it's the run-in now, the legs are feeling a bit heavy and I'm eating like a horse. I've downgraded my personal goal for the month so figured I could give myself an extended rest of 24hours between this morning and tomorrow morning. I was all growed-up about it and didn't take a second set of running kit in to work (I did toy with the idea of wearing the stinking, damp morning commute gear for a lunchtime loop...briefly...though better of it.)

That's about it really.

SILVERCHAIR

Considering how little I managed to write about yesterday's run to and from work I am, unsurprisingly, struggling a bit to find much to say about today's run to and from work. At least today the GPS battery was full.

My new GPS, a replacement for my ageing Garmin Forerunner 305, is the Garmin Vivoactive. I was tempted by the Fenix and Epix, but I could not justify the spend considering how few of the features I'd actually use. I don't pay much attention to data fields other than distance, time, lap time, average and current pace. Occasionally I will put on a heart rate monitor, but that is so rare that I decided to save the extra $60 the strap cost. Having said that, I did see if the HRM strap from the 305 would pair with the new watch...and it did. Sixty bucks well saved.

The Vivoactive has all the data fields I need and a few smart features. It pairs with my phone and automatically uploads my data. It send me mail, calendar and facebook notifications and it does the day to day activity tracking. And it is properly waterprrof. I like it. And I think it looks OK. But the best thing about it, and the thing that made me retire the 305, is the battery life. Even with my reasonably high mileage I get several days on a charge. The blurb says you get 10hrs on the GPS, up to 3weeks without. Alas the 305, from full, was complaining about low battery during two runs earlier this year. I can't have that I'm afraid. And it locks on satellites far more quickly than the 305. The times I've spent 5minutes shivering in the pissing rain while the 305 stubbornly refuses to lock on...

The only pain with the Vivoactive is that it refuses to re-pir its conection to my phone once it is broken. Turning bluetooth off and on on my phone (currently a Samsung Galaxy S4) fixes it; not too much of a burden.

I need a song for the day. This is more a song for yesterday, when I hit the milestone of 2000km for the year to date. Have some Silverchair. It's got 2000 in the title. And the video is filmed about 200m from my office. That'll do.

CHARLES & EDDIE

There really is not much to say about today's miles other than they are a bit out of the normal run of things. A bit Mondayish really. It was a (sun)day in the office so I ran to and from work for another 22km day. Not the most inspiring running, just workmanlike commuting.

It was an early start, so running was the best way to get to the City from home. At 06:30 the bus service from the beaches is patchy at best. Maybe I didn't notice some buses pasing or maybe I only started paying attention later in the commute, but I am fairly sure I saw only 2 buses pass me on the run in. Both passed me on the Harbour Bridge, one was 'out of service' and the other wasn't from the beaches. So rather than wait 55min for a bus to maybe turn up I ran 55min and turned up at work.

Where I stayed for the next 10hours, successfully deploying stuff with colleagues, eating pizza and drinking coffee. The Garmin was looking somewhat light on juice. In fact it had warned me that the battery was low on the run in. I have pushed it a bit between charges, probably has something to with a colleague buying an iWatch and me ripping the piss out of him over its battery life - or rather lack of. Should have charged it last night. Nevermind, might be lucky. Wasn't.

It was dark when I left work for the standard trot home. I noticed on the run that the battery had died. I did wonder if the Vivoactive was smart enough to shut the screen down and still track me? Didn't know. Once home I uploaded today's miles to find it had crapped out 5.9km into my 11km run home. So today I manually claim to have run a further 5.1km to bring up the 11km commute home.

You know I ran it. You can trust me. I mean, would I lie to you?

That's a bloody awful song, it really is. I wish I was making my miles up so I could pop in something better.

But no, I am far too OCD to not run 20-22km pretty much every day of the month.