PMC finshed!
"A man must love a thing very much if he not only practices it without any hope of
fame and money, but even practices it without any hope of doing it well."
- G. K. Chesterton
On a cool morning, a bunch of lean fit men gathered to run the Poorman’s Comrades from Gosford to Sydney. We gathered under the train station sign for a photo and with a “ready, set, go” from Kevin, we were off. My race plan was to run around a 6:00 to 6:30 pace and see how it went. The group moved off pretty quickly but I kept them in sight, then an unsettled stomach had me stop for a toilet break - that was the last I saw of anyone for quite sometime.
I kept to my race plan and avoided the temptation to try to catch up. Kevin and Sean provided support and some company about every 5km which was greatly appreciated. As the hours and km’s ticked by the traffic went from groups of cyclists, to groups of motor bikes and then finally sports cars.
I arrived at Mooney Mooney Servo within my race plan, Sean filled my bottle and I grabbed a power bar then took off over the Hawkesbury. Nearing the edge of the bridge I met Plu. He rode with me up the long long hill to the Pie in the Sky. It was nice to have company and also it forced me to run since Plu said it was too hard to peddle any slower. Plu also had a great supply of food which went down well.
Plu left me at the Pie Shop and I continued. I was now starting to hope that someone in the front would start to struggle and I may see someone, but no luck. Finally as I entered Berowra I saw Graham in the distance. I did my best to catch him but running low on supplies I needed to stop at the next shop and restock. I grabbed a yellow sports drink and a large mars bar. The mars bar was great but the sports drink did not sit right. I hate pineapple and that is what I had stupidly bought. I forced down half the bottle thinking I would not last without the sugar but then a minute later, up it all came. I dumped what was left and filled my bottle up from the next tap. Things got a bit ugly from here and my pace slowed considerably. I was now in a bad place and was feeling down because not only was I last but I was going to be spectacularly last and I envisioned everyone else powering along as I plodded and wallowed in self pity. There is a song that I got stuck in my head called “too cold” but the words I sang were “too old, too old. Too slow, too slow. Sometimes I hate myself, sometimes I love myself”. It suited how I was feeling at that moment.
I took the turn toward Bobbin Head and started to walk. Then around the next corner came Plu. He told me that Jan and Graham were about 400m ahead - this news and Plu’s company cleared my spiralling chasm of self deprecation. As we neared the hill to Bobbin Head picnic area I was looking forward to a bit of downhill running - unfortunately my quads did not agree and it was a rough old descent.
Plu was at the bottom waiting and after I did a quick bit of foot care and some food we headed off together up the next hill. Mentally I felt ok but my legs were totally exhausted. The hill wasn’t too bad and I in my mind getting up over the hill and into Turramurra Shops was the home stretch. We arrived at Plu’s car and he gave me a bunch of stuff to eat on the way and we parted company. I was now running alone again and got a run-walk thing going. Running down the Hwy I ran into Graham who was munching on a mars bar and looked in good spirits. I am afraid I was not much company since I was now totally stuffed. We ran for a moment together but Graham was too fast and eventually I lost sight of him. I ran through Chatswood and eventually stopped at a shop and grabbed a pack of chips. These were perfect and I occasionally munched on them and plodded along. I felt out of place amongst the people heading out for dinner, since I now resembled a tired old man shuffling along. At one point I decided I had had enough and I was going to stop here and go home. But then I thought about the coolrunning updates and how I would hate reading how I pulled out at 80km. So I kept on, soon the distance to the finish was doable and I called my wife and said I would be less than 1.5 hours. I got to North Sydney and before I knew it I saw it! The Bridge! I was there, just a quick run over the bridge and I was done! I checked my watch and saw I could make my goal time of 11:30. My pace picked up and I was feeling great. As I ran through the Quay I passed Graham, who had finished and we exchanged a brief “well done”. I did not want to stop - I was now running to make 11:30. I pulled up to the Opera House and stopped my watch at 11:32, better than last year by 52 minutes.
Now a day later, I would not hesitate running this race again. To be an Ultra Runner, a short-term memory is a must!
This entry was posted
on Monday, June 20, 2005 at 4:55 PM.
