Ladies and gentleman ... Johnny Farnham!!!

Just one more comeback.
Ok. I’ve gathered my thoughts and am determined to make one last ditch effort to run this blog in the manner in which I originally intended.

My recent run in the Glasshouse 100 and my good friend Glen’s run on Monday for no other reasons than the fact that he could do some good for others (in this case, deaf children) has humbled me a little and spurred me into action.

Well, maybe not action so much as a little less inaction.

The 100 mile race a couple of weeks ago (September 10th) was a real watershed. Having run it twice in reasonable fashion (2008 & 2009), 2010 found me reduced to a walk for 135 km’s of the eventual 137 km. It exhausted and completely demoralised me. Along with making me realise that my injury (plantar plate tear) was simply not going to ‘go away’ it set me on a spiral of self loathing and depression that would see me spend the next five months drinking too much, gaining 11 kg’s (22 lb’s), training not at all and generally totally dissatisfied with my existence (for that’s what it was), simply waiting for it to end.

With nothing but the surgeon’s knife to look forward to (and no means to afford it), things were looking bleak. I embarked on a little but frequent training plan with a view of promoting a genuine active recovery.

Long story short, having lost 10 kg’s (thanks Donna), gained a beard and a lot of hair, I finished the GH100 in 16th place from a record number of starters which saw a 43% drop our rate (mostly by DNF) with a PB of nearly 1½ hours – 21:41.

I was fit and hairy (looking not unlike a gay, colour coordinated sasquatch) but I’d made it in a manner beyond expectations.  I couldn't have done any of it - the race or the preparation leading into it - without Donna, my partner, love and best friend.

Two weeks later, I accompanied a friend, Glen Hendry, for the last 40 km of a 100 km run he had undertaken, from Mooloolaba to Brisbane, to raise funds for deaf children.

After a long time of feeling sorry for myself, not being able to do the things I, me, wanted to do, watching Glen give of himself so selflessly humbled me. But I’ve turned the corner/made it through the crossroads/found my way out of the mire or simply dug myself out of a rut.