The race of running dreams come true

 

The Running Dream

Over my long absence from running due to injury (23 years since my last big city fun run), I often have running dreams. What sort of running tragic has running dreams twenty years after injury caused a promising running career to shudder to a halt?

A running tragic like me. Running is a big part of who I am, something I have a passion for. Something I missed like an arm being chopped off when I couldn’t do it anymore.

In these dreams, I would be running on a training run or in a race. Often that race was the City to Surf. I am striding along and feeling great. Then I’ll think to myself, wow, this is great I am running again! But wait that can’t be true my subconscious chimes in, I can’t run my knees won’t let me. This can’t be true this must be a dream.

….and sure enough it is a dream. I wake up bitterly disappointed once more.

…and it was a running dream until the Bridge Run on the 21 September 2008.

Working towards the dream

My battles with a maltracking patella have been well documented on this blog over the last three years. This is the culmination of twenty years of unresolved knee injuries. For 18 months I have worked two to three hours a day to rebuild my quads; my atrophied VMO. At its worse I have struggling to walk and have tolerated a niggling pain nearly every day, and several setbacks just as the injury seemed to be coming good. After the worse of the setbacks surgery seemed inevitable.

Three months ago, I thought damn this I want to go for run. I ran 5km, there was some pain, but it was tolerable. At least my knee cap didn’t run off track with the knee taping holding it in place. For a couple of months I have run three times a week and cycled four. I have built up the distance from five to six to eight kilometres. Like chipping away at a mountain my quads became stronger. I even went in few local cross country races.

The Race

I decided to enter in the Bridge run because I had done a few easy 8km runs in training. Each one seemed to be less and less painful much to my amazement.

The day before the race as I walked over the bridge to check out the course. I thought I’m up to this, I’m ready to rumble.

The night before I could hardly sleep. I was nervous, thoughts would not stop looping in my mind. I hammered away at the physio trying to squeeze every last ounce of strength into my VMO before race day.

I woke and dressed and was on the train to Milson Point my 6:15am. I arrived at Town Hall and a crowd of runners had gathered on the platform, they were mainly Marathon  and family fun runners. 

I still had a long time to wait for the start. I saw the start of the mararthon race and was so inspired.

Then I walked around Bradfield Park for awhile and I thought of the times I had gone in the City to Surf twenty years ago. The times my mother and father had wished me well as I left home to head to Town Hall. The times they had come and cheered me on at the finish at Bondi Beach. The times we ate oranges sitting on the grass in the Sydney August sun. The times we walked together back to Bondi Railway Station. I remember listening to the results of the Los Angeles Olympics. Carl Lewis had won the 100 metres. Great times.

My mum died of breast cancer in 1986. My father is living in a old aged hostel over in Perth on the other side of the country. My parents always supportive; my parents, my safe place. As I walked near the shoreline,  the rattle of trains passing on the harbour bridge towering above, these memories of my parents overpowered me and I had to fight back tears.

 I gathered myself together and headed off to the start.

I seeded myself in the 41-45 minute section. I’d run 5.8km in 25:27 and a not flat out 8km 37:29, so I thought a 42 minute run was possible.

The gun went off and it took quite a while to get to the start. The first kilometre was spent dodging optimistic self seeded runners and walkers. The hill on the bridge approach was easy. I was striding out easily….like in my running dream! The first kilometre was 4:36, I hit two kilometres in 8:49. I was passing more runners than passed me. The sun came out as I cruised down the Cahill expressway. Some faster runners started to go past me now.

I thought to myself, pace the race, you have a long way to go. I readied myself for Macquarie Street, which I thought had a slight incline and might sort me out with my lack of mileage. I missed the third and fourth km markers and felt that the early pace was making my legs heavy. I saw the 5km up ahead and looked at my watch. I did the 5km in 22:33, which I thought was a bit slow, I had hoped to duck under 22 minutes. However, this was a nine kilometre race and I wasn’t going flat out, there was a long way to go.

Running back along Mrs Macquaries Rd and the Art Gallery Road was hard. Once I got to Macquarie Street, I picked up the pace. Once the the road sloped downhill I really opened up, passing many more runners….like in my running dream, but I wasn’t going to wake up from this one.

I sprinted down Macquarie Street and thought of the genius of a physio who works there and had showed me how to tape my knee and strengthen my quads. Thanks mate, you are a genius!

I was fooled by the dummy Fitness First arch, thinking it was the finish. Around the roundabout and onto the Opera House courtyard I wasn’t sure how far was left. A young boy of 10-11 went past me, running a blinder. I said “go little mate.” Then I saw the clock. 41:40 it said as I passed under it. A fellow slapped me on the back and said “good run.” I returned the compliment “good run mate.” That’s the sort of thing I miss about running too, you know?

I walked along the gardens footpath for a while, the harbour waves lapping against the sandstone wall.

How good was that? I thought. How good was that?

Then I put my chip in, got my clothes and headed for a cool drink.

 The race of running dreams come true

The night after the run I lay awake in my motel room, watching the planes come into land on the east west runway.

Is this real? Did I really run a fun run today? It felt like a dream. I couldn’t believe it.

However, I clutched the Bridge Run key ring in my palm.

And I then I knew it was a running dream come true.

And I turned on  the bed lamp every five minutes to look at the result prinout. My name, my net time, 40 minutes 45, placed 562 outright of 12000+, 479th male, 63 out of 886 in my age group.   

And I knew it was a running dream come true.