My last preparatory run for Run Melbourne was eight days before the event. Perfect to be outside. I even Instagrammed it.
But after less than two kilometres, I was in trouble. The lower half of my left leg was sore and cramping. I tried to press on for another couple hundred metres, thinking it was a spasm that would get shaken out after I’d warmed up. Eventually, I stopped. It hurt even to walk and I had to call Adam to come rescue me – I didn’t want to risk the effort getting home. A lucky osteopath appointment an hour later confirmed shin splints.
(Although, it was, in her own words, “Probably not a true case of shin splints. They don’t normally come on this sudden.”)
I was told to do two baby runs as a trial and see how things went, ice and, basically, cross my fingers.
True to Melbourne winter, the weather turned from lovely to horrible within days. I kept checking the long term weather forecast, hoping for good news. The rain had a literal impact – on Thursday, I came in from the wet and slipped down the steps in my dining room and landed on my left knee, aggravating the sore muscles that were on the mend. I won’t lie – there were tears.
What will I do? I kept asking myself.
Because I’m stubborn, the same reply came back.
Go. Line up. Be there. Try. Walk if I have to.
That was the plan. Not much of a plan, but it was the best I had.
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I timed the drive in perfectly. I got a park and walked to Federation Square by 6.50am. I made it to the D-wave flag just as the line started to creep forward in anticipation. I plugged in my earphones, got Runkeeper ready to go and had a half-laugh at the entire situation, determined to try and at least have some fun. We approached the navy blue starting point and then it was on.
I went out the slowest I’ve ever started a run, self-assessing how all the movements felt and what hurt (nothing, yet). People cruised past but that was fine. As has been the case in a few runs, I passed them again at the 4km and 5km marks, when they’d burned out and were by the side of the road stretching out their calves.
The weather turned out great. See?
A bit windy, though, so the hoodie I bought to discard stayed on. By the time I got to Southbank the sun was square in my eyes and I had to follow the shadows of the people in front. 8km passed… 10km… and I hadn’t stopped to walk. The legs were holding up. I stopped at every drinks station (some even had blessed orange sports drinks) and jog-walked as I sipped, spilling all liquid over me. But I kept going.
The first time I stopped was on the long hill up past the Shrine of Remembrance and the second I did a man passed me. “Don’t walk!” he said. “Don’t let a 55-year-old man pass you.”
I did let him pass. But I did start running again.
There were ‘Run to D-Feet’ Motor Neuron Disease T-shirts everywhere. I remember back in 2010, I only saw a half-dozen at most. It’s so nice to see the increase in awareness.
Before I knew it, I’d reached the 15km mark, which is where I took the first photo. I took the opportunity to check Runkeeper and it said 1:45. Holy hell, I thought. I’ll get in under 2:30 at this rate. The chances of that would’ve seemed impossible before beginning.
Then things got hard, as they inevitably do. By 18km, I was in pain. Not my legs, ironically. My back – in the same spot where it played up in the marathon. My feet, too. But I shuffled past Rod Laver arena, then over the bridge beside the MCG. At 20km I knew I had to run the last km if I wanted to get the sub 2:30, because my time had slipped.
Providentially, Beyonce’s ‘Run the World – Girls’ then shuffled on to my playlist and she brought me home. I lifted my knees and sped up, even though my brain and chest screamed no. I crossed the line in 2:29:05.
My second fastest half marathon.
I was walking around with a big grin for the rest of the day. Sure, I know it’s not a very fast time – but consider the lead-up: the skin cancer removal and not being able to run or lift weights as I recovered, injury. I’d written myself off.
I have to stop doing that.
Thinking back, the little moments pop up. The drunk guy waving his can of bourbon and coke expansively in front of Crown Casino, commending everyone as they passed for “being their best selves”; the woman who handed me a purple jelly snake on Alexandra Avenue for energy; the smiles of all the volunteers; the people watching who will stick out their hands for a low-five. It really helps. It reminds me why I love these sorts of events.
My Everyday Hero pledge page is still active. If this story has inspired you in any way, or if you’ve been meaning to donate and haven’t had the chance yet (or you were waiting to see if I even showed up to run – it’s okay, I understand!), here’s your chance. Here’s the link to the page.
Thank you, thank you x
