At the end of last year, a mate asked me what my plans were for next year (2009). When the subject of the Gold Coast Marathon came up, I said I’d be looking to improve on my then current PB (not being the fastest bloke a round it was a totally unexpected 3:38 at GC 2008) and stated boldly that I thought 3:20 was not unattainable. He stared blankly at me and said “Why don’t you go for three hours, you have nearly eight months to train for it? There are thousands of runners out there who can put together a 3:20 – the only difference between that and a 3 hour marathon is some hard training and some guts! ”
‘Bloke Man’ reared his head at the mere hint of a suggestion that I may not have the guts to do it and the seed was sown. I was going to run three hours at Gold Coast. The same protagonist offered to coach my speed sessions so there was no escape.
I put it to a few mates, in private and then blurted it out at the CR Christmas drinks at the Chalk Hotel. I got a mixture of responses, mostly encouraging (Bless you SHJ) and I was outed!
Before I committed to any serious speed sessions, I had the small matters of Hares & Hounds, Dusk ‘til Dawn and 6ft Track to get out of the way, but after that, I’d forego anything ‘long’ until after GC. All was going well until I suffered a tendon injury after Caboolture that saw me take about five weeks off training. I managed to arrive at 6 Foot injury free but definitely lacking the fitness I had hoped for. I was off the hook! I still took up the speed work (couldn’t hurt right?) but took on the Dayboro to Mt Mee marathon and followed it with the 80km at Glasshouse instead of sticking to the shorter stuff.
I felt that I was safe to get my aforementioned 3:20 without killing myself and all was well with the world. One unforseen problem: This nutter who was coaching me seemed to know what he was doing and the improvement in my pace was (and has been) immeasurable. Now what? In the lead up to the race, even a heavy cold that saw me stuck in bed for three days of the penultimate tapering week had the decency to hold off enough to prevent any missed training sessions and more or less cleared up before the day. It seemed I was destined to give it a crack.
Come race day, I was pretty sure I was underdone (ironically short of a last long run) but was in solid shape to go 3:06/8 and probably should have set with that sort of pace in mind. However, having made some strides this year and asked the question “how much are you prepared to give – have you got the guts” here on CR, there was only one thing to do. I’d set out to have a go at three hours and I’d give it everything.
I took off yesterday, not too deep into the crowd and only about 5 seconds (I thought) behind the gun. First km in about 4:30, no real drama, second in 4:06, caught up a little, next 4:20 and settled at 4:14 – 4:16 for a while after that. Ok after an unsettled start. It wasn’t too long though before the game was up. I wasn’t really working too hard but I didn’t feel I had it in my legs. South past Burleigh to the first turn and then the usual yell of "Go Alun" from Glen as he headed for the turn behind me (last year he was ahead of me but the yell was just the same - great PB from the man today too). I managed to stick close to the right pace for about 17km but I was always trying to catch up a couple of seconds. I hadn’t adjusted my goals yet but I knew something needed to ‘click’ soon if it was still going to be on.
Through the ½ in just under 1:31 (according to my watch), which was a slight PB and was something I knew I’d have to do if I was going to pull it off. Even then, though I knew the writing was on the wall, I kept the three hour mark in the forefront of my mind and thought along the lines of a negative split. I’d done before at a lesser intensity but I was going to have to come good. Fuel was ok (GU chews) but probably not taking enough water.
By about 25km I had banished all thoughts from my mind and I figured if I’m in any sort of shape coming across the start line I could settle down and make sure I got in under 3:10. Sadly, coming up the rise I knew the game was up. Aerobically I was fine but I had nothing and with about 12km to go and having already started to slow I knew it was going to be tough from here in. I heard Rhys, my son, yelling from somewhere and I looked across to my right to see him along with Andrew (Townshend) and his sons waving madly. I waved back and though it was a lift, I knew it wasn’t enough. I mimicked my throat being cut to Andrew and he replied with an open armed shrug that said ‘C’est La Vie’, i.e. I’d given it a shot.
As I came over the crest, I heard a yell from Robson Bond (coaching genius) in the middle giving me encouragement. I acknowledged him but I’m not sure I conveyed a positive frame of mind. From here, I had the toughest 11km of my life. I just focussed on a steady jog and made sure I slowed enough to drink properly at each station, walking the few steps it took to get it down. It wasn’t long before I knew that the 3:10 had gone and with about 5km left I was beginning to doubt that I’d get under 3:15.
2km to go and I though right, I’ll dig in and pick it up from here to make sure my 3:15 was safe. This lasted for about 200 metres before I acknowledged my demise and subconsciously told myself to save it for the last km. It was already very warm and there were a few horror stories around from what I could see so the conditions were obviously beginning to tell. Finally, I turned up the small rise back to the Pacific Highway and the end was more or less in sight. About a km to go, dig in and finish like you mean it … ok, nothing there, save it for the finish. I passed the many cheer squads (doing a stupid aeroplane impression as I passed the first group – I don’t know where my mind was then), inclusive of the dutiful CR group and finally turned off the highway with their yells ringing in my years.
At last, I was finally into the chute. I’d had a walk around here the previous evening and had pictured this moment. Pick it up, you’ll just scrape in under 3:15 … keep it up, 42km mark just up ahead so about 240m to go … don’t … die … on arse … bugger. As I passed the marker I had 3:14:20 ‘ish’ on my watch and I knew I was just going to miss out.
I crossed the line and by know I wasn’t thinking too hard about missed goals, I was just glad to get it over. I finished with 3:15:10 according to me and I’m sticking to it!
I spend long enough in the recovery area to get down enough water along with some Endura and a few pieces of fruit and also to endure a coughing fit (cold still hanging around). I crouched down and took the timing chip out of my shoe before slowly relacing it while I started to dismantle the day’s events.
I walked out into the throng and Andrew was there with the boys. I was glad to see Rhys particularly and Andrew was congratulatory both of my time and for having a real go. We wandered for a while before Andrew headed off. I spend some time bumping into a few guys, Ray James, Jon Pearson, Balri, Joe and the rest of the mob before we too headed for home via a couple of beers at Andrew’s place.
I asked the question of myself, as I had done on CR so many months ago, “Was I prepared to give it everything I had, given whatever commitments, family and work and any other time constraints placed upon me, and finish in a fashion whereby another ½ a km would be too much?”
Yes. Yes I was and I had. I was f*cked!
Had I sacrificed a sub 3:10 in pursuit of a goal that an earlier injury and more recent illness had, in all likelihood, put beyond my reach? Yes, probably but absolutely no regrets.
There were lots of things that probably hindered my training over the last few months but they’ve been overshadowed by the things that have gone right. No excuses, I just didn’t have enough on the day. I took a gamble with high odds and it didn’t come off, but hey, I have a 23 minute PB, a nice shiny medal (it is nice and it is shiny) and I live to fight another day.
Not sure the photos will be pretty though!
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