Chapter 307: Run the Bridge

A long time ago I went for a run around the block. I enjoyed it. I entered every fun run I could. I joined a running club that did a weekly time trial.

 

I quickly found out my mind couldn’t order and prescribe a certain time. I found out that certain behaviours resulted in better times and certain things resulted in worse times. I found out what made my body functioned better or worse. I found out about myself.

 

Finding out about myself helped when I was not running.

I found out that my  physical ability (how fast I ran) related to my emotional, mental and social health. Stress at work led to a poor run.

I found out that my physical health affected my emotional, mental and social health. The physically fitter I go the better my work went. My  mind relaxed after a good run.

 

I normally run free. Unscripted. Run instinctively. I don’t follow an app or a coach.  I vary speed. Vary where I run. Cross country. Fartlek. When I run I watch birds, plants, wallabies.  I enjoy my run. I never think I am doing this because my app or coach tells me to.

 

I monitor myself. Enjoy the way my muscles change when I push myself. Enjoy the pain in my muscles. Watch the pain.  Stand back from it. I don’t run away from it. I don’t avoid it. I am alive. I feel the sweat on my eyebrows. I wipe it away.

 

Run the Bridge: For the last 20 years I have always aimed to beat my age over ten kays. This year that means 64 minutes.

My added aim is to be faster than last year. Faster than 62 minutes.

 

Four week training program:

Monday: LSD.

Wednesday: Race in TMA.

Saturday: Parkrun time trail.

Other four days: In the morning an easy jog. Junk miles.

In the afternoon do hill sprints. Push myself. Run hard. Not a specify number in a certain time with a specified break.

Daily exercises: Stretching and light weights.

Cross training: Tennis, pickleball, swimming and walking.

Eat healthy.

Rest hard and relax hard. Train my mind.

 

Fluid plan: Drink water before starting. Dispose of plastic bottle ethically.

Drink water at first drink station. 3 kays. Kangaroo Bay.

Drink water at second drink station. 7 kays. Tasman Highway opposite Government House.

 

Race plan: It’s all about the bridge. At 5 kays I will know how I am going. If I am ahead of five kay runners before they start I will be under 30 minutes for 5 kays.  I can then push hard for the finish. If the 5 kay runners start before I reach them then I will need to go faster, push hard down the bridge.

 

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.

 

Race day: Begins with a disastrous night’s sleep.  During the night I contemplate not running. Then I decide to turn up and plod to the finish.

 

Start running. Dodging, swerving and avoiding others. Feels good to help make this crowd. I push hard. A view of the bridge and a glance at my watch tells me I am going slow.

 

Eventually make it to 5 kays. Maybe 32/33 minutes. This is not going to be good time. I feel good. Running well. Running better than I should be.

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.

 

I merge with one of my daughters. We run together. I am so proud of her. Unlike her I am wearing a TMA shirt. Many TMA people see my shirt and shout something positive. They ignore my daughter. My daughter says: You’ve got your own cheer squad. I love my TMA shirt. I love my cheer squad. I become my daughter’s cheer squad.

 

We both sprint for the finish line. I watch the back of her cross the finish line.

 

I discern an idea of my time. I did not run under my age. I have failed. I am hot and tired and grab some water. People congratulate me on my run. I proudly wear my medal. Nobody need know that I failed.

 

After Run the Bridge:

 

I glance around. Thousands of happy sweaty people. We are all wearing identical medals. Some achieved their goal. Some like me failed to run as fast as they hoped. The medals are telling me  everybody is a winner. 

 

My medal tells me I learnt something about myself. I have a tiny bit more evidence that my physical health or how fast I run depends on my systemic health. I ran badly because of my systemic ill-health. The good news is I have medical appointments to manage my medical problems. Next year I will beat my age.

 

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