This is for spring and hail, that you may remember: for a boy long ago and a pony that could fly.

Les Murray Spring and Hail

http://www.poetrylibrary.edu.au/poets/murray-les/spring-hail-0560007

I really liked this poem, I learnt it in 2 unit English at High School. So my horrible high school education at Port Hacking High School wasn’t a complete disaster after all.

Yowie Bay Primary and Infants.

A love of running came natural to me from an early age. After a day at Infants school I often ran all the way home. Sprinting along Kiora Road, the speed building, the sound of the wind in my hair. It seemed like I was flying like the boy and pony in Les Murray’s poem.

I was always good at running without any training at all. At Yowie Bay Primary School we used to have running races at lunch time. Ten laps around the school. I always won those races and by a long way. I guess some of the other children got bored with this, so then we started having team races, which I didn’t like as much, because I didn’t win all the time.

At the end of a visit from my  Aunty and Uncle and Cousins. I’d sprint off down Kiwong Street and try to race my uncle’s car: a white Holden Premiere with red bucket seats. I’d try to get as far as I could before it overtook me.

On holidays I can remember standing at Echo Point in the Blue Mountains and looking out over that endless bushland way below, and wondering what it would like to be able to run and explore forever. Same thing at Carrs Park bushland near Oatley. I wanted to explore, and the longer the better.

A year without running in it, is a wasted year.

At Port Hacking High School I lost interest in sport. Well to be honest I lost interest in everything at that place, and I lost trust in people altogether for a long while. I competed in the school cross country races, and I’d usually make the Zone or Area without any running training just natural fitness and by playing other sports such as touch football. I played cricket and soccer for a while, but I wasn’t any good at these sports, I was best at running. I wished I’d trained more, it is something I regret now, and I blame Port Hacking High School for this. I see the local kids around Coffs training and really enjoying their running, and I think it is wonderful that they are living in a such a positive environment.

Greg Hartley inspired running resurgance

I made my return to running in Year 12 of High School. I’d started supporting the Cronulla Sharks in their quest for a premierhship. I went to every game 1978 and 1979. When the Sharks were robbed by questionable refereeing in the 1978 Grand Final and replay, I was angry.  So I can  thank “Hollywood” Greg Hartley the Grand final referee and his inability to count to 8  for my return to running.

When I got off the train at Miranda station, I’d take out the anger of the Sharks losing a rugby league match, by running hard all the way home to Kiwong Street about one mile. I decided that following a sporting team was frought with disappointment and uncertainty. You are reliant on your team performing well, the result is out of your control. Not so with running, you can control how you run.

I also remember some of the other kids in my year used to go Sutherland Cross Country races. They were beating me in the local school cross country races. I knew that if I trained I would probably beat them in races, and so I did in a year or two, but then I’d left high school. One night I lay awake, and I stared ay  my ceiling and dreamed: I might be a really good at running if I trained for it. It was one of those thoughts that turned into a dream and turned into an enjoyable running career, that ended too soon with  injury.

Turning the tables on the bullies.

Through running I began to rebuild some to the self esteem and trust in people that I’d lost during the bullying and teasing at Port Hacking High School. I was good at something running: the teasing and character assassination was not true, it didn’t define me when I ran. Running, I knew I was good at it, no bully could stop me believing that. Although I’ve never really recovered from that time at high school, and some of what I am going through now is a result of that time.

One night some of the local thugs tried to run after me. They used to torment some of the neighbours like poor Mrs Matthews. In one of the bravest or perhaps silliest moments of my life I turned and sprinted towards the head bully. I think all the anger of being teased and physically abused at high school just welled to the surface then and I was going to get the bastards. I was bigger, I was older, I was fit and fast and I would not be intimidated.

They looked at me, sprinting towards them and thought what is this crazy coot up to? One by one they turned and ran away from me, parting like the red sea, leaving only the ring leader. He stopped running looking to his left and right for support from his mates, but they were all gone. He took a look at me, and he must’ve seen the rage in my eyes, the intent in my fast stride and clenched fists.

And then he turned and ran for his life. Not very quickly, because he was a fat prick. I let him go, because I am not a violent person.

Other local groups of thugs chased after me at times, most commonly outside Carmen’s night club. I gave them the one fingered salute when they swore at me. A short pursuit would follow, until I hurdled the median stip, and put in a 3 minute kilometre. That freedom to run fast was so liberating.

Like Spring and hail

Running from Gymea to Miranda on Presidents Avenue felt like flying, like that boy and pony, and spring and hail. It was slightly downhill, and I would just get up on my toes and go hard.

I wish I was there now, and I could run along Kiwong Street, knock on the door, which would be opened by Mum and Dad and go inside. I wonder if they would forgive me for losing my way, of not living well, of becoming angry and directionless, of finding it difficult to express or reciprocate the unconditional love they had for me. I know that high school stuffed me when I was unable to even open up completely and even trust my parents. Of course they would forgive me, parents forgive their children for everything.

Postscript

When I started this post I wasn’t intending to write any near half that much. In fact a couple of days ago I wanted a break from this blog. I’ve been drinking a lot of caffiene, my anxiety has not been good, and when I am under stress  the combination is posts like these. My thoughts take off and become a runaway train, I can’t keep up with them, sometimes this is creative, and sometimes not. It is always intense and I don’t know if this is always a good thing.

Today I ran straight after lunch. Felt a bit heavy and light headed. There was a break in the rain so I took the opportunity.  I got wet with sea water from waves overtopping the jetty wall, from the drizzly rain falling and also drenching sweat. I was trying to hold back but found myself running 4:20- 4:30/km again. I was pleased to finish the run without slipping over in the wet.

There was a tern standing on the breakwall footpath making an agitated call. It flew away as I approached. On my return I noticed a Baby tern with brown mottled immature feathers standing begging for food from its parents. The other terns were making a noise to be protective of their chick.

The Australia Day Fun Run is cancelled. I’m kind of relieved, I can focus on the Country Champs now.

Half of the Surf Life Saving club car park was under water. A narrow strip of sand left above a swollen and fast flowing Coffs Creek mouth was covered by the branches of a couple of fallen Coast Banksia trees. The churning choppy dirty grey surf  lapped the rocks at the base of the ramp at the southern end of the dog beach. To run the dog beach today you’d just about need a snorkel, or tip toe along the thin corridor of sand not submerged by the storm tide.

I wonder if this is the end of this fun run after a short three year life span. Higlights including one of the most constricted starting areas of any fun run. The sight of 200 runners funnelling onto a single file beach access path. Wade O’Malley missing the turn and sprinting north through the bitou bush before realising his mistake. A fun run held on Australia Day along the beach regardless of the tide, starting as late as possible in the increasingly intolerable  heat and humidity.

Marvellous!

Wading through waist deep water and rocks on the Dog Beach. That’ll bring the crowds back.  What I enjoyed most about this fun run was seeking out shade under the strategically positioned marquis tents placed in that sweltering hot bit of grass at the start/finish line.  OK I’m being sarcastic.

The hard slog on soft sand, with an oppoturnity to record some of my slowest kilometres splits in my Garmin

The witty repartie of Coffs Bowling Club patrons entering the establishment to partake of the entertainment on offer- keno or the pokies.

“Haven’t you got something better to do on a Sunday?”

“Indeed.” I’m sharpening my Keno pencil as I write this, so I can be involved in a more useful activity than running.

The apparently random finishing times provided for finishers of the 10km race in 2010. That was more fun than solving a  Sudoko puzzle.

Despite all this I truly did enjoy this fun run, it added to its character and charm.

Sometimes it is better to not say anything. Silence takes a lot more courage. You can sometimes say more without words.

Work was not so good today. Feeling very down after the second day of the workshop. Like I don’t belong, like I’m not good enough, my expertise is replaceable, like my opinion wasn’t taken seriously, and I was talked over the top of. This is my life, who the hell am I, what value do I have? It seems sometimes that all I have is running, and sometimes that isn’t enough. At times like this there doesn’t seem to be much between this time and another low time in my life. What if I get injured or sick? What if I lose my job?

I’m going for a run now, so I hope to feel better afterwards.

I am back and I am running well. Only one more day and then get ready for Country Championships. I like how going for a run can put things into perspective.

Just imagine how bad I would feel after a day at work like today if I couldn’t run?

10.5km 47.52. Went through 10km in about 45:10

Another thing that makes me glad I was  born me and not someone else, is being born in Australia. I feel lucky to have been born in a country with such amazing natural beauty and unique animals and plants.

 

It is cold, wet and miserable outside and I am not going out for a run this morning.

Good news: A copy of R4YL magazine turned up in my letterbox. A free subscription from the Cadbury Marathon.

The start list for the Country Championships has turned up. 4 runners in the 5000m, 8 in the 1500m, 10 in the 800m. The Country Champs are popular. They have my age as 50! I’m 49! I’m not ready to head to the dark side of over 50.

Sunday 29/01/2012 – 2:55 PM
Name Age Team Seed Time
1 Berry, Charles 46 Min(Mingara)
2 Boursnell, David 50 Mingara Athl
3 Hynoski, Geoffrey 44 Illawarra Bl
4 Kelaher, Paul 44 Min(Mingara)
5 Kidd, Peter 50 Athletics Wo
6 McCann, David 47 Illawarra Bl
7 Mustapic, Glen 41 Nowra Athlet
8 Robson, Greg 49 Coh(Coffs Ha
9 Sheringham, Paul 50 Sutherland D
10 Watson, John 43 Sin(Singleto

Event 127 Men 5000 Metre Run 40-49 yrs
Name Age Team Seed Time
1 McCann, Geoffrey 46 UNA
2 Mustapic, Glen 41 Nowra Athlet
3 Sheringham, Paul 50 Sutherland D
4 Temblett, Ian 49 Min(Mingara

Saturday 28/01/2012 – 11:31 AM
Name Age Team Seed Time
1 Berry, Charles 46 Min(Mingara)
2 Hynoski, Geoffrey 44 Illawarra Bl
3 McCann, Geoffrey 46 UNA
4 Mustapic, Glen 41 Nowra Athlet
5 Robson, Greg 49 Coh(Coffs Ha
6 Rochester, Paul 45 Nma(Nsw Mast
7 Sheringham, Paul 50 Sutherland D
8 Watson, John 43 Sin(Singleto

Not so good news: My fire alarm is making an annoying noise. I suspect the battery is low, but I don’t know how to  change it.

The workshop was like four seasons in one day. I gave my talk and I think it went reasonably well. Then at times after that I felt completely hopeless and that I know nothing. Maybe vegetation science is something I am not very good at.

Perhaps running is one of the few things I have a talent for. It certainly is something  that makes me glad I was born myself and not someone else. It is like a window to my potential, I don’t think I have ever reached my full potential at anything.

A very, very hard 20km run this morning. Humidity was very high and I struggled, way slower than any recent long run.

My Garmin is not recording any activities in memory.

Running easy vs running slow

I think there is a difference. On my long runs I try to run easy by feel. As I’ve become fitter my easy run pace has become quicker. I can hold a conversation with other runners at about 4:30-4:50/km pace. Of course that can depend on if it is hot and humid like this morning when my easy pace slows naturally. I think that a easy long run should present at least some sort of challenge to your aerobic capacity. I’m not sure that long runs at very slow paces would achieve that.

I am a believer in easy long runs by feel, not forced long slow runs pre-determined by the artificial constraints of a Garmin or heart rate monitor.

Workshop

There is a 2 day workshop starting tomorrow at work. I have to give a one hour presentation to the work shop. This will be a very hard thing to do .  I want it to go well, but I am already wishing it was over.

Today

3.2km warm up

5 x 1km (3:48, 3:48, 3:49, 3:50, 3:49)

4 X 400 m jog recovery

3.2km warm down

Friday

10km Jetty 46:39

“And behind my eyes, my daily disguise everything’s is turning to white.”

Pasta night

No it isn’t Ricky Ponting the Australian Cricket Captain, it is my anxiety.

I wanted to write about the elephant in the room the night before the Hobart Marathon. It is my anxiety that wants me to stop writing about it, it is afraid that people will think I am weird. Then I thought, no stuff that I want to name and shame my elephant in the room. Put it out there squirming in the light of day, the ugly thing that it is.

The night before the marathon I went to a pasta night at the restuarant in the hotel. This is a big deal for me, I always eat alone, I take meals back to my room when I go on running adventures. I sat at a table on my own. Another runner kindly invited me to his  table, with a couple of other runners. Two of them doing the HM and one the Marathon. They were good blokes. Immediately my anxiety kicked in. What if they notice my anxiety, what if I annoy them? At first it is embarrassing and then a cold fear sets in. Did I annoy them? Then I went away to my room having trouble sleeping and analysing my behaviour and every word I said.

There is nothing visibly wrong me. What is wrong with me lives behind my eyes, in my mind.

….but this disease I suffer from is real, it doesn’t make me a wonderful person, certianly not horrible I hope, but there is no way I could ever make up something as horrible as this thing I suffer from.

Feeling a bit down after Bunch of Fives so this gave me something to aim for and cheered me up tonight.

I’ve entered.

Australian Masters 1500m, 5000, 10000, 8km Cross Country

NSW Masters 800m 1500m 5000m

At least I have had the preparation for these races I missed out on last season.

I’m lucky to have these things to look forward to and focus on. I’ve been getting distracted and wasting time thinking about the sadness and unpleasantness the world can throw your way. There is always a balance between the good stuff and bad stuff, and I am not sure why the bad stuff seems to have a much stronger voice. The bad stuff: unpleasantness, doubt, criticism  and disappointment is a challenge you must face to get out there and keep trying, when the whole world seems to be against you. And when you win the good stuff:  enjoyment, hope, encouragement and success feel so much sweeter.