Jem Publishing

My training for the Burnie 10 was going really well … a couple of weeks ago.

Sure, I wasn’t going to set the world on fire, but I was aiming for around the 55mins mark … a time that is just a tad slower than my best time Burnie 10 … when I was in high school. And significantly fitter.

Then I got the flu.

Bloody kids, when you want them to share their toys they turn into possessionist Nazis … when you want them to keep their snot to themselves they decide to share.

Unfortunately I went down like a sack of spuds and spent amost a week in bed. I managed to hit recovery in time for the weekend’s RYL2 in Anglesea and was able to go … but it was a bad idea (health-wise) and I went downhill again.

However, it’s amazing what a week of antibiotics will do, and this morning I took my place on the start line (along with 5000 of my closest friends) to run the 10km out-and-back course.

I went in with absolutely no expectations and no pressure (from myself or others). And I also went in with my friend’s 9-year-old daughter. We had decided to run together. It was the best thing I could have done, in my un-trained condition, because I allowed all my focus to be on G, instead of on me. I wasn’t running a race, I wasn’t aiming for a time, I didn’t even take my sports watch. It was just G and I trying to get around the course as best we could. No pressure.

It was the first time G had run 10km and she did a fabulous job. The whole time, we just talked about how proud we were going to be to get over the finish line – how proud I was of her, and how proud she should be of herself (because that’s what matters most). She talked about how she was going to tell her PE teacher at school and what she’d say.

And we counted down the kilometres.

We walked when she needed to, we stopped at the toilets when she needed to, we drank at every drinks station and I poured water on her head when she got hot.

And we counted down the kilometres.

But mostly we were quiet … we were just doing our thing, lost in our thoughts. Me, with my rhythmic stride, and G plodding along beside me – her little legs doing twice as much work as my long legs, and with no rhythm whatsoever!! We’d talk occassionally and set mini goals, or we’d urge each other along as we saw each distance marker.

And we counted down the kilometres.

Just before the nine-kilometre mark we decided there would be no more walking until we crossed the line. Just do our thing, don’t think about how tired we were, how hungry we were, how much our feet and legs hurt. Our legs were heavy by this stage …  I have to say I’d about had enough.

(Note to self: I need to work on muscular endurance … the lungs held up fine, the legs couldn’t keep up.)

As we turned into Mount St and headed up the final hill to the finish line, we felt a surge of pride and happiness from completing this thing together. I’m so glad we ran together – for me it was so much more uplifting that if it had just been me and my iPod.

Thanks G … no more kilometres to count!!

I’ll sleep well tonight.

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