Run The Bridge

When playing tennis, we talked about Run The Bridge. I said: I love Run The Bridge. It is magic moment running the bridge without cars. Surrounded by other runners. Great view. There is room for you. Do it.

It proves that I live in a healthy community. Healthy physically, socially and emotionally. A fun run with nearly 5000 people proves Hobart is a good place to live. To run across the bridge with other people is exhilarating. It’s special.  I do the 10 kays.

I have absolutely no idea how many times I have Run The Bridge. I know my first fun run was over 45 years ago around the time that fun runs began. In the last 45 years I have entered every fun run easily accessible.

Society and funruns have changed in the last 45 years. Somethings have remained the same. Fun runs are open to all. Easy to enter. Simple rules. You wear a number. You start together. You follow the person in front of you. The course is straightforward. Finish time is recorded. Prize to fastest. Tables for water. Roads littered with plastic cups.

Fun runs today:

On-line entry and on-line display of results.  

Photos are common.

Sign a waiver absolving organisers of anything.

Runners more accurately reflect society. More females, old people and disabled people. 

Teams more common. People running together with their mate is more common.

Today more people are fussy about what they drink. Only drink their particular drink.

Raising money for a charity. A shirt and a team to promote their charity.

Clothes have changed. More special running clothes. More materials which are designed for sweating bodies. Less people throw on their garden shorts. Shoes have improved. Which is good not only sartorially but helps prevent injuries.

Multiple events around the main event. Shorter runs for kids.

Before the start

Standing in a crowd of people waiting to start running.  Some are stretching. Some are jogging. Some are standing on one leg and stretching the other leg. Some are talking or greeting friends. We are standing outside the massive stadium that houses cricket and football.

There is no uniform. There are some similar shirts or tops. Advertising, promoting something or commemorating some past run.  Some of the shirts tell people what team they are in.

I search the crowd of runners for someone I know and somewhere to stand. I head towards the back for safety.

The Race

The race starts and I don’t. I walk and eventually cross the line and start dodging, swerving and avoiding others. I spend my time working out where to run. Should I go around them or not. If I follow this person they may drag me. The other runners slow me down and speed me up. They slow me as I avoid them. They carry me along in their slipstream.  I am stunned by the number of people. And I know virtually none of them. Where have they all come from. Most of them must live in Hobart and yet I have never seen them before. They have appeared and they are running. With me. We are all in this together. All heading in the same direction.  Weekly News

Feels good to help make this crowd. I push hard. A view of the bridge. Running over the bridge. The bridge is covered by a blanket of living, moving runners and walkers. They are all concentrating, focused and pounding the bitumen. I admire the view of The Mountain and feel guilty. I must focus on running.

 

Previous races tell me the finish is a tease. Run past the finish line tour Battery Point and then come back to cross the finish line.

 

At the finish line is a clock and a bump in the road which gives me the race time

After the Race

Over the years every fun run I have entered I have never come first or last. Is that glass half full or empty? Have I beaten the guy who came last or been beaten by the winner. Neither. It is a personal challenge. A personal test. An activity that brings enjoyment.  It does more than that. It has helped increase my self-awareness. It has helped keep me fit for work. It has help me make friends. It has improved my social life. It has improved me emotional. It is 45 years of positives.

 

I glance around. Thousands of happy sweaty people. We are all wearing identical medals. The medals are telling me  everybody is a winner. 

 

My medal tells me I learnt something about myself.

 

I found out that my  physical ability (how fast I ran) is related to my emotional, mental and social health. I found out that my physical health affects my emotional, mental and social health. The physically fitter I get the better I feel.

 

Us winners stand around talking; drinking; taking photos. We are a very happy crowd. The organisers are invisible. They have created a delicious, wonderful crowd full of proud, exhausted chatty people. 

Special thanks to the person who helped me contact my wife so that she could find me in the crowd.

The organisers have made many of us Hobartians a tiny bit healthier. Physically, socially and emotionally.

 

 

The Bridge

 

Hobart was settled when ships controlled the movement of humans around the globe. Hobart is on a deep-water port. Hobart is divided by the River Derwent.

 

The bridge unites and connects Hobart. Famous for being damaged by a ship in 1975. Today cars are banned from travelling the bridge when a ship sails under it. This continually reminds us of the day the bridge was hit by a wayward ship.

 

The ship still lies at the bottom of the river with a concrete slab from the bridge on top of it. Ships regularly pass over the sunken ship without a thought. When I run the bridge, I think of the ship under the bridge.

 

 

Cadbury Marathon running festival

 

Cadbury Marathon: 10kays.

 

They have changed the start time to 9:15a.m. That’s bad. Much worse running in the heat. Got to come up with a plan. A way of coping.

 

Before the race. I drink water. Water over hair and bib.

I bump into a familiar face.

He says: Thought you were a sprinter.

From memory I said something like: Sometimes I pretend to sprint. Today I am going to pretend to run 10 kays.

In the milling crowd a scared possum then bumps into me.

 

The crowd walks, shuffles then jogs. When I cross the bump in the road my race begins. Where is the first drink table? I stop, drink water and pour water into my hair and bib. I am not taking any chances.

 

Half way. Turn around and push hard. With most races the hard bit, mentally, is the bit after half way, The third quarter.

This run is dragging. It’s hot and hard. Not enjoying this at all. Got to plug on. Keep moving those legs. This race is different. It’s too hot and today the hard bit is the last quarter. The hill at Cadbury’s.  

Just have to cross that finish line. Then I can lie down and recover.

I mount the top of the hill. Can see the finish line. My legs can’t. They decide to think for themselves. I can’t control my legs. Got to somehow finish this race.  My legs take me off the road. Onto the grass. Through a group of females. I trip over the grass and fall onto the ground. I pick myself up.

A guy wearing an official vest says: Sit down. Now drink some water.

I tell him: Just got to finish.

He says: Sit down. You are not going anywhere.

I say: Just got to finish.

He says: Sit down. I can stop you. You are not going anywhere.

I shut up.

I drink some water.

Melissa appears.

I rise to my knees and look at the finish line.

I keep on saying: All I have to do is cross the finish line.

They eventually hear me and say: We will walk with you across the line.

We cross the finish line together. For walking 50 meters Melissa is given a medal which she gives back. The official vest guy leds me to a tent.

I lie down on a camp bed. They prod, pock and take blood. They keep on saying to themselves: Looks alright.

I ask them their names. I have the funny habit of wanting to know the name of someone taking blood from me.

The guys keep on saying: Lie there. Rest. Looks alright. Drink this.

I ask for the results. He tells me everything.

They finally let me depart. 

Melissa holds me up and takes me to the tennis courts.

Melissa says: Saw a guy collapse. He looked worse than you.

I think: Thank God for that. Someone looked worse than me.

I realise I have missed out on chocolate.

We met Wendy. Wendy says: You steamed past us. You were going well. I introduce her to Melissa and say the wrong name. Sorry Wendy. I complain to her about the start time. I complain to everybody who will listen about the start time. On such a hot day way too late.

 

I lie at the tennis clubhouse while Melissa fetches her car.

 

Back home, my medal disappears amongst others, and I check my heart rate and temp. Back to normal. I then enjoy an ice-cream.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bikes and Spikes

 Windy. Could be worse. Could be better. Wouldn’t like to be a cyclist. This wind is dangerous.

Ah well. Accept the wind. Play with the cards I have been given.

 

100m: Search for a line telling me where to start. I am the front marker. I crouch and listen. I start running. Big strides. Lift knees. Swing arms. Run fast.

I hear shoes slapping the ground, heavy breathing. Then I get swallowed up and spat out by a group of fast runners. I burst through the finish line watching the backs of all the other runners.

I did my best. That’s all I can do.

My legs feel good.

At least you had a go.

You beat the people sitting.

I then hear that all the bike races have been cancelled due to the wind. Fair enough. Safety has to come first.

 

Now my plan is. Go home. Relax. Relax my mind. I can do that by listening to the cricket.

I arrive home. Eat a big lunch; then lie down and listen to the cricket on the radio. I am not moving until I go back.

 

300m: I grab my bib and walk up and down the track. I have a close look at the track. I am going to sprint as fast as possible to the first blue flag, and then the second blue flag. I lean and rub the flag. It is my flag. Put there for me.

The perfect way to run is to sit one out and one back and to pass everybody the top of the straight. The Ralph Doubell way. The dramatic and heroic way.

Today the handicapper tells me I can’t do that. I go with Plan B. Plan B is start fast. Cut the thread that connects me to the pack of hounds chasing me. Then try and hold on.

The gun goes and I sprint like I stole something. Burst past the first blue flag. Now go for the second one. Legs high. Swing arms big. Breath big. That’s it the second flag. Ah well might as well keep going. I plug on.

Silence behind me. I listen to the commentator. I hear him say: Looks like he is going to hold on. I stumble across the finish line. I have won.

I shake every hand I can see. My daughter comes across with some water. She shepherds me towards a sash.

We have a few attempts at putting it on. Didn’t practice that. Eventually it is on.

I mumble into a microphone. Hope I didn’t say the wrong thing. Hope I thanked all the runners. They all won. They helped me own my brain. I win when I control my brain.

Time for more photos.

I arrive home. Two races. One last and one first. When I came first everybody spoke to me. When I came last I was invisible. In both races I managed to learn a bit about taking control of my damaged brain. To me I won in both races. Time to listen to the cricket.

 

 

Secret Santa

 Christmas Morning.

Walk down the bike track.

A young kid learning how to ride a new bike. His dad says Merry Christmas.

A teenage kid races past on his new bike. Without his dad.

Most couples we see say: Merry Christmas.

Back to our spotlessly clean and quiet house.

Don’t touch.

I’m hungry.

If you want something to eat then eat the nuts.

When are they going to get here?

Secret Santa dumps his presents.

Two of the young grandkids play Bingo.

Christmas Morning.

Walk down the bike track.

A young kid learning how to ride a new bike. His dad says Merry Christmas.

A teenage kid races past on his new bike. Without his dad.

Most couples we see say: Merry Christmas.

Back to our spotlessly clean and quiet house.

Don’t touch.

I’m hungry.

If you want something to eat then eat the nuts.

When are they going to get here?

Secret Santa dumps his presents.

Two of the young grandkids play Bingo.

Numbers randomly appear. Each number has a few words and a present attached to it.

 

1       Hop to it

2       What time do you start work?

3       Funniest person in the family.

4       At home

5       Jane

6       Please don’t take my man.

7       Lady Di

8       Have you sailed from Sydney to Hobart?

10     Row, row your boat

11     Born again

12     Anne drew a picture.

13     Retired old fart.

14     Pumpkin eater

15     Say Grace

 

Why is there so much food?

I’ve had enough to eat.

I’m full.

Where are my sunglasses?

The pool in the backyard beckons.

Splash, screams. One kid gets the hose.

This is going to end in tears.

Backyard golf. Don’t hit it so hard.

  

Sit around. Calm. Relaxed.

Paper for word of the year and good things about 2024.

I’ll think about it.

Where is my phone?

Where are my car keys?

                                            2024 was good because: 

                                            Word of the year 2024:

                                            2025 will be good: 

Can I access his heart?

 Can I access his heart?

Time to start.

Two days a week.

Is all I seek.

 

A moment of glee.

Playing together he and she

In love.  Honest and open.

They became one.

What glorious fun

He and his wife

Created new life

That will live forever.

 

A real live person

Their eldest son

began to live with them.

A running, jumping, laughing gem.

Then before rooms of lawyers

Prove you love your son.

A toy train and a football.

A smelling dirty nappy.

He gazes at his sleeping son

He weeps and wails.

Why has he failed?

Why is Bruce his best friend forever?

Why does he love tomato sauce with mushy peas?

Why is green his favourite colour?

Why does he brush his hair that way?

Why does he want to read his favourite book again?

and again and again.

 

Dancing Barista

 

Nice day today. How you going?

Today’s home-made  cake and cream.

Carrot cake. Full of pleasure.

Take a seat. Enjoy the usual at your leisure.

Theresa dreams big and beams.

The smell of fresh roasted  beans.

Drops of rich dark liquid magic

Drip and fill a waiting cup.

Full of bliss. Kiss and sup.

Bubbles of joy float up and up.

Stand up and let’s spread some joy.

Come on hold my hand. Dance with me.

Swing, twist and turn. Come on let’s

dance on the table. Let’s spin and burn.

Thump and bump. Wack and smack.

You can join in. It’s fun. Whoops.  

Let’s make

Coffee and cake.

Full of joy.

Let’s enjoy.

Morning tea

Fills me with glee.

Morning tea

Fills me with glee.

Everyone has to have a want.

Everybody has to have a want.

That’s all I can say

I dream of the day.

The ducks line up.

I just wanna watch and wait

For my numbers to come out.

Backflip and shout.

That’s all I can say.

 

A red and white weatherboard house.

For me and my one and only spouse.

A garage for me and my tools.

They are my precious jewels.

Smell the BBQ    on the deck.

Mulberries fall mulberries wreck

the freshly mowed and trimmed lawn.

Roses smile for me at dawn.

 

Play footy with my mates.

We all control our fates.

Handpassing, yelling, tackling.

All our knees and heads are crackling

shepherding and kicking.

We’re all together clicking.

In the grand final. BOG.

Sing the team song. Sing with glee.

 

Heads turn and follow my car.

Honing across the sizzling tar.

The latest model in our town.

With the roof pulled all the way down.

It’s crimson candy red.

It’s turning each and every head.

I give them loud music blaring.

Watch them all green and staring.

 

That’s all I can say

Hey, hey, hey

Vancouver: last day

Vancouver.

Aimless walking around Vancouver.

Stanley Park is a 400 hectare Park on a peninsular in the middle of Vancouver. It is a green oasis of natural rainforest within walking distance of our centrally located hotel.

Vancouver: Grouse Mountain

 Grouse Mountain cable car.

We entered the cable car at the bottom on a nice sunny day. No sign of snow or ice. The cable car was full of people carrying skis and snowboards. At the top, we saw some beautiful looking snow and a cafe. We took the café. Our waiter was from NZ. A waitress came and wanted to talk to us. She was from the Gold Coast. The first Aussie we had seen for weeks. Apparently, this is where young backpackers go for work. The snowy mountainous areas of the west coast.

Seek the Peek. 16kays: 1400m elevation: running race. We saw an ad for this coming race. 

Vancouver: Capilano Suspension Bridge

Capilano Suspension Bridge Park

Capilano Suspension Bridge crosses towering evergreens.

The cliffwalk follows a granite precipice above the Capilano River with a series of cantilevered bridges, stairs and platforms held by 16 anchor points into the cliff.

 

Toronto to Vancouver

  Fly back to Vancouver over the Rockies.