Not a pleasant night for me ... again. I'm afraid the curse of the Hysterical Village struck me early on with a twinge of an adductor muscle. It sort of eased off through the second hour but in favouring it (or at least I believe that was the cause) I aggravated a niggle in my hip that got progressively worse to the point where I couldn't even walk without pain.
Having walked this event home for 10 hours in the past, having gotten injured early on, I didn't have much to gain so, by midnight, having gone through many adjusted schedules in my mind and talked them over with crew, I pulled the pin with a meagre 46 km (I think) having been at 22 km after 2 hours. Definitely went out a little quickly in the first half an hour but I think it's that south corner on the anti-clockwise loop that gets me every time.
As for my crew, can't say enough thanks to Keith & Carol who came up especially to look after me. I'm sure if I'd said i was going just walk around there for the rest of the night it would have been no problem.
Seems that the 12 hour event here is becoming a bit of a millstone for me. One from three isn't so good (the 'one' being my first event there), even though my outings over three and six hours have been good. Not sure where to go from here.
Anyway, I've had the benefit of not taking too much out of myself and after two days off will pick back up with the 6ft training. Two hard weeks to come with a steady/soft week to follow before a little taper.
Tuesday, 14 February 2012
Tuesday, 7 February 2012
Dusk 'til Dawn - @ The Caboolture Historical Village
Well, the streak is over and ended officially on January 31st (though I didn’t take a day off until Friday 3rd). Have to say it’s a relief but, even though I’m trying to rest a little before this weekend’s event at Caboolture, I’m finding it difficult to get my head around not training.
Now then, to the weekend.
The Dusk ‘til Dawn event has been running in one form or another since 1994 and though he didn’t organise the race from the beginning, it’s existence is attributable to the eccentric Geoff Williams. All proceeds go to the The Caboolture Historical Village.
Geoff is an ever present on the local scene and pops up at most events in some capacity, usually as a marshal or at a checkpoint (and has helped out at WHC).
Having taken part twice, I have mixed emotions about it as on the second occasion I succumbed to a pre-existing injury early on and turned the event into a walk (84 km in the end) which was disappointing after my initial foray. This year I’m looking to lean heavily on the base I’ve accrued though I’m very short on long runs.
With good crew in Keith Sullivan and Donna, I couldn’t be in better hands so we’ll see.
Wednesday, 4 January 2012
46 is pretty depressing.
Wow ... nearly a month since my last confession!
So, another year has come and gone and, as with most souls, time for reflection.
46 is awful. I mean, you’re more than halfway between 40 and 50 ... two thirds of the way to your 3 score and 10 (if you’re religious) ... genuinely approaching 50 ... fuck.
Another year of angst for myself, Donna and, sadly, my son (with plenty of good stuff to go with it), caused almost solely by his mother – a trend that shows no sign of abating at the moment. Still, he seems to be getting the bigger picture though, unfortunately, he’s losing his innocence along with it.
Christmas was good, though upsetting (you’d have to go through it yourself to understand what it feels like to spend the morning with your son only to have to wave goodbye to him for 24 hours at tea-time on Christmas Day). New Years Eve was quiet, though upsetting (yours truly being over emotional – family overseas, children ... well, not the best of situations.
Worst of all, just eleven days before Christmas, getting the phone call from my mother, letting me know she’d had a recurrence of the breast cancer she suffered just two months after moving here nine years ago. This time on the other side.
The operation was done and dusted with convalescence started before we’d had chance to sit down to an eggnog and minced pie. Prognosis is good, but I’m wary. It also brings home to me my own mortality as I pass yet another birthday (January 2nd) and brings home the fear of what would happen to my son should anything happen to me.
Happy New Year!
So, another year has come and gone and, as with most souls, time for reflection.
46 is awful. I mean, you’re more than halfway between 40 and 50 ... two thirds of the way to your 3 score and 10 (if you’re religious) ... genuinely approaching 50 ... fuck.
Another year of angst for myself, Donna and, sadly, my son (with plenty of good stuff to go with it), caused almost solely by his mother – a trend that shows no sign of abating at the moment. Still, he seems to be getting the bigger picture though, unfortunately, he’s losing his innocence along with it.
Christmas was good, though upsetting (you’d have to go through it yourself to understand what it feels like to spend the morning with your son only to have to wave goodbye to him for 24 hours at tea-time on Christmas Day). New Years Eve was quiet, though upsetting (yours truly being over emotional – family overseas, children ... well, not the best of situations.
Worst of all, just eleven days before Christmas, getting the phone call from my mother, letting me know she’d had a recurrence of the breast cancer she suffered just two months after moving here nine years ago. This time on the other side.
The operation was done and dusted with convalescence started before we’d had chance to sit down to an eggnog and minced pie. Prognosis is good, but I’m wary. It also brings home to me my own mortality as I pass yet another birthday (January 2nd) and brings home the fear of what would happen to my son should anything happen to me.
Happy New Year!
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