My preparation for the Derby Half Marathon has been far from
ideal. For weeks I have had some groin soreness that has extended down the
inside of the left leg and across the lower part of the stomach. Sometimes I
feel as if the whole hip is going to fall off my body. It hadn’t stopped me
from running and disappeared after the first hundred metres or so. I saw the
doctor a couple of days ago and he is sending me for an ultrasound to check for
the possibility of a hernia. Then last week, while I was doing some faster work
on a local rough track I felt my right hamstring tighten so I immediately
stopped running and walked home. As a result I haven’t done any running since because
I didn’t want to miss out on Derby. Whatever happens, even if I have to walk
part of it, I know that I will set a PB! How’s that for confidence? Well, it is
my first crack at it so it has to be, doesn’t it?
All our arrangements had to be changed at the last minute as
a dear friend, called by one person as my “surrogate mother”, died on Tuesday
morning and I conducted her funeral service on Friday afternoon, meaning we
couldn’t travel to Scottsdale on Thursday afternoon and reconnoitre a bit of
the area on Friday. Getting ready for the funeral my stomach was twisted in
knots of tension and nervousness. Friday morning was spent trying to get
everything ready for the long weekend. I checked, double checked and triple
checked with Val all my gear for Derby; I had my sermon ready for the services at
both Bridport and Scottsdale on Sunday; and I again reviewed the funeral
service, as well as having a visitor for morning tea. Then it was packing the
car with everything we needed so we could leave straight from the funeral.
I was reasonably happy with the service but by the time we
concluded the service, walked across the road to the cemetery for the committal
and arrived back at the Chapel it was getting late. We had some refreshments—I
had far more than Val—said our goodbyes and then drove to Scottsdale, arriving
there a bit after 7.00 pm. It had been a bit of an emotionally draining day to
conduct my friend’s funeral, even though her great faith gave me every
assurance of her acceptance by God into his heaven. However, the loss is still
hard to take.
As usual I didn’t sleep like a baby, having been up at 12.30
am—it took me a while to get back to sleep after that—and then at 4.00 am. In
these long wakeful periods I had “Here I am, Lord”, the hymn we listened to at
the funeral, running through my mind—at least the few words I could remember. At
4.45 am I decided to get out of bed and cook myself some porridge, with two
crushed Weetbix on top, have some fresh fruit loaf and my much-needed mugs of
tea. There was total cloud cover when I checked outside and it would be nice if
the rain forecast for 6.00 am didn’t come until much later in the morning. I
don’t mind running in the rain but I don’t fancy the idea of hanging around the
start line in the wet. I made up my Staminade, checked that I had everything,
including a friend’s kilometre times from last year, and then dressed ready for
my big day out. As I checked on the weather I found that the humidity was over
90%, but there was no rain as we drew closer to Derby, even though there had
been some at Scottsdale—and it stayed away all day.
It was so good that the start time was put off until 8.30 am
to avoid too much congestion at the beginning of the track as it gave me an
extra half an hour to be as ready as I could be.
After picking up my bib from Kim, who had collected it for
me yesterday, I watched the marathon runners set off and then got myself ready
for the start of our race. After listening to the pre-race instructions we were
given the siren to start us on our way. It was fairly easy going and I was very
much surprised when I looked down at my Garmin at one stage in the first
kilometre to find that my pace was 5.50/K, which was way too fast. It all
seemed too easy as I tackled the continuous climb for the first 14K. I passed a
couple of runners but after the 4K mark runners were beginning to pass me, so I
pulled aside to let them pass. After 7K I was beginning to feel the effects of
my foolhardy start. I paused at the aid station for a drink and a handful of
lollies. It was hard to start off again. My legs were beginning to feel the
strain as I continued along the tracks, running along the top of old walls,
along the lake and beside remnants of the tin mining days. Every so often I
pulled aside to let others pass me and then continued on. At times I was able
to keep up with them for a little while but eventually had to let them
disappear from sight. By about 18K I was really finding the going hard. My hips
were sore; every step downhill, especially heavy steps because of the steepness
of the downhill sections, sent shooting pains through my stomach, so I will be
glad when I have the ultrasound to find out what is wrong. At one stage I took
the wrong track but fortunately there were two young ladies behind me who
called out so I could backtrack and get on the right track. In a bit of a
mental daze I had been looking down at where I was putting my feet and not
taking notice of where I should be going. With no one in front that I could see
I lost my bearings. At this stage I knew why I had retired after 40 years of
ministry—the emotional, mental and physical exhaustion that I had then still hasn’t
fully left me even after over three years of retirement. The strain was telling
on me and my thinking wasn’t fully clear. I stumbled three times over loose
roots, though I didn’t fall, because I wasn’t lifting my feet properly and this
sent pain shooting through my stomach. How different trail running is from road
running as my feet continued to slip and slide on the loose stones and my weary
legs couldn’t lift my feet out of the way of every rock—it’s no wonder so many
runners buy trail shoes for better grip.
By the last aid station I was really finding the going hard.
This time I didn’t stop for a drink, just for a handful of lollies. People who
had started the race by walking were now streaming passed me in such a way that
made them look as though they were sprinting. My lap times were now far slower
than Val’s walking times for Devonport Parkrun. I began to question the wisdom
of continuing to contemplate Bruny at the end of the year as that is almost
three times the distance of Derby! A rusty haulage chain lay beside the track;
then there was a rusty wagon wheel that would have been used to haul tin that had
been dug out of the ground; and other items from days gone by, including three
old bottles still lying on the ground. I passed beautiful foxgloves beside the
track and then, near a house, fields of beautifully flowering naked ladies,
which reminded me of the ones we grew in our garden at Geeveston.
Finally I could see the township of Derby so I knew I wasn’t
too far away though the track wound around as it continued with its ups and
downs. As I neared the end I could hear Val affectionately shouting out to her
“old man” to encourage me to keep going. As I crossed the line I wasn’t even conscious
of those cheering me on. In my exhaustion my mind was a blur but I do recall getting
my medal and my Parkrun friends coming over to congratulate me, even if I
struggled to remember their names. My lovely lady suggested I get myself a
“Tassie Trail Fest Run like a Tiger” t-shirt even though I didn’t think that I
had run like a tiger as I hobbled over the line. I will wear it at our Parkrun.
Everyone else who completed running either the 21K or 44K
seemed to have had no troubles walking around while I hobbled from place to
place. Val continued to photograph the runners as they approached the finish
line while we waited until our friend Teru, who had stayed with us for almost 3
months 22 years ago, to finish his marathon. Then we drove back to Scottsdale
where my lovely lady ran me a bath, which I thoroughly appreciated. But as I
sat in the bath I began to think of taking some short, easy runs next week—and even
of doing the run again next year.
The toe I stubbed on Thursday night while ironing had become quite sore
and is now red and swollen. A couple of other toe were a bit sore, which is the
first time I have had any toe problems since being fitted for my new running
shoes. However, on the bright side, there was not even the slightest hint of
soreness in my hamstring! Having had a bath I am not quite as stiff and sore as
I was after the run, though tomorrow morning could be a different story. The
question I am left to ponder is whether I should stick to shorter runs and
avoid trail running, even though I enjoyed it. I have been taught, but whether
I have learnt the lesson, is that I need to start much more slowly. If those
who commenced the run by walking could easily pass me then it just shows that
my endurance ability is pretty poor. I obviously underestimated such a
demanding course and greatly overestimated my ability, on a course I hadn’t
been on before, to complete the course without dying part of the way through it.