The day after my flying lesson I crossed another thing off my bucket list - a feat of endurance that took weeks of preparation. Something that- yep, you guessed it from the title, I ran a half-marathon.
I was never interested in running before I came to Australia. The most running I'd ever done was at school, trundling along at the rear of the pack in cross country races. I wasn't the most athletic of kids. I found sports in general really boring. I never even learnt to throw a ball over-arm properly, because I wasn't paying attention when the PE teacher showed us how to play cricket. This led to immense difficulties filming the coconut shy scene in my first music video.
As a grown up, I felt a burning desire to prove my strength and fitness. My former boss, Chris, took up running and suggested I enter the City to Surf competition last year. This is a huge annual fun-run in Perth that stretches 12 kilometres from St Georges Terrace to the coast at City Beach. Tens of thousands of participants enter. There are also half-marathon and marathon events taking place on the same day for long-distance runners.
I trained for several weeks beforehand, gradually building up from 20 minutes' jogging on a treadmill (stopping to stretch every five minutes) to a 10 kilometre route around the Swan river (widely known as the bridges run) and finally to 12 kilometres on the treadmill. I kept the speed low, around 8-9 kilometres an hour, and broke up the tedious treadmill sessions by varying the incline from 1 degree to 3 degrees periodically, to mimic road conditions. Fortunately I could do this at home, as Sharon (my housemate and landlord) let me borrow her treadmill. My fitness levels improved greatly and I felt that the training (3 to 4 sessions a week) was going well.
I completed last year's 12k run in 78 minutes and 37 seconds, which isn't super-fast, but pretty good for a first-time runner. This year I decided to go one better and train for the half-marathon - 21 kilometres, or 13 miles. I'd left it late, and had just 4 weeks until the race to train. Chris emailed me some detailed instructions which I really appreciated. "4 weeks is tight but if you set a training plan and stick to it you will be fine," he said.
Knowing I could run 12k was a huge confidence boost - last year that had felt like an impossible distance. After a few jogs around the park, I decided I was ready to make the leap to the 10k bridges run. This became my regular training route, 3 to 4 times a week.
People slag Perth off for being a boring city (me amongst them) but the views as you run around the river, from the Narrows bridge to the Causeway, are breathtaking. You don't know Perth until you've been for a run around the river, seen the relaxed pace of life and smelt the briny air blowing straight in off the Indian ocean. The facilities for runners and cyclists are world-class.
Soon, I needed to increase my distance above 10km, so I found a route which would take me all round the river from the Narrows bridge up to Burswood. The estimated distance was 13.5km - a nice step up but nothing too strenuous. When I attempted the run everything went well, but it took me a very long time to finish. I checked the pedometer app on my phone when I returned to the car and discovered I'd just run 16km!
So my training was suddenly ahead of schedule. My knees felt a bit stiff during the run but remarkably I felt fine the next day. Things looked very promising. I was entering the realm of crazy night-time joggers.
With race day only a fortnight away, I decided to increase my distance again. I planned a route that took me along the Swan river from the Causeway to South Perth, then 3-4km south along the Canning river to the Comer Reserve footbridge, back up the way I came, over the Narrows bridge, along the Perth foreshore and back to the Causeway. I estimated this to be 18km, but when I finished my pedometer told me I'd run 20km! Nothing could stop me now.
A couple of days before the race, I went to the Perth convention centre to pick up my race pack. This is when they issue you a numbered race bib which contains a timing microchip. The convention centre is a big, draughty building with curved white walls, that somehow looks deserted even when it's thronging with people. The half marathon cost $85 to enter, slightly more than the $65 I paid last year to enter the 12k run (obviously a proportion of this goes to charity).
I was consoled by the fact my race pack included a free green T-shirt with a running stick figure and the words 'half marathon finisher' on it. It seemed a bit presumptuous to call me a 'half marathon finisher' when I'd not even run the race, but this was written on everyone's T-shirts, and hopefully I could make the prophecy come true!
I got up very early on Sunday morning, ate toast for breakfast (making sure I finished eating at least two hours before the start of the race), put on the green T-shirt, attached my bib and drove to a street on West Perth (15 minutes' walk from the starting point) with free parking. As I walked to the meeting point the city was deserted, save for race stewards and a few determined marathon runners who started their course at 6am.
I waited with hundreds of other runners, some stretching, others relaxing, in a big shed-like room at the convention centre. Overhead, a clean-cut man and woman on a projection screen took us through some stretching exercises whilst namechecking a never-ending list of sponsors. The moment of truth was near. I felt no nerves.
The shutters at the back of the room were open to the morning air but our path was blocked by a handful of stewards in orange T-shirts. I was bored as I had no-one to wait with. This is the downside to training and running the race alone. After an interminable length of time the stewards led us in a jog to the starting point.
Suddenly I felt tired and rusty, a bit like I used to feel during cross country running at school. Had I slackened off too much with my training? They tell you to taper off your distances in the week before race day. I passed the starting point on William street in a slow jog. The first hill leading up to Kings Park was very tough going.
I walk this hill regularly on the way to work but running it is a different proposition. I'd not thought to include hills in my training, which had all been on flat ground. I made it to the top of the hill and kept going. My heart pounded in my chest.
The next section deviated from the 12k course, taking us on a circuitous route round Kings Park. Rain fell in a drizzle through the tall trees, keeping conditions cool. I passed a wizened old man with a beard running a full marathon. His bravery and ambition made me feel more optimistic about my challenge ahead. I was perturbed at the sight of some medics tending to a middle-aged man in an oxygen mask. He looked okay, but people occasionally die from running the City to Surf and I didn't intend to be one of them.
"You can do it, 6694!" A woman yelled my number as I ran through Kings Park. I was pleased to see so many passers-by shouting words of encouragement. I reflected on the niceness of random strangers in Australia, one of the reasons I like living here. We passed the '10km' flag on the way out of Kings Park. I'd nearly run half the race!
We rejoined the 12k course, which took us through the suburbs of Subiaco and Mount Claremont. Groups of orange-shirted volunteers handed out cups of water and Powerade. The streets were littered with discarded paper cups. I was amused by the volunteers who stood on fences with the specific job of yelling encouragement to the runners.
'Chevron - the power of human energy' proclaimed numerous sinister banners. "Fuck you Chevron, you can stick your corporate branding where the sun don't shine," I thought. I didn't need the encouragement of the oil and gas industry to run this race.
I was never the fastest runner and while the first hill had dented my confidence, I was still making steady progress. I passed the 16km banner, then the 18km banner, then, finally, with the sea looming large on the horizon, the 20km banner. We were nearly done.
As I rounded the final corner I felt a twinge in my right ankle. I realised now that my pedometer had given me too high a reading during training - this 21km felt much longer than the '20km' I thought I had run. This is what you get for being a tightwad and downloading free apps. My ankle held out and I crossed the finish line with a time of 2 hours, 22 minutes and 54 seconds. I received a shiny silver medal and some free fruit and drinks as a reward.
In the days that followed it emerged that 2 runners had died after the race this year. One of them was 32, the same age as me, and running the race that I had run last year. We're bombarded with deaths in the news every day, but this shocked me. I realised I was very fortunate to be so healthy and to have completed the race without any complications. Could all this exercise actually be bad for you? Everyone dies eventually, so you might as well just try and have fun and be the best person you can.
In running this half-marathon I have achieved what I once thought would be impossible. My next goal is to one day run the London marathon. It's hard to explain what I like about running, but it gives me a focus and sense of purpose that is otherwise lacking. People tell me I've never looked fitter and my friends now ask me for advice on running. I'm no expert and can only tell you what has worked for me.
One thing's for sure though - I've got running nailed. Time to work on my throwing technique.
(Photos from PerthNow)
I was never interested in running before I came to Australia. The most running I'd ever done was at school, trundling along at the rear of the pack in cross country races. I wasn't the most athletic of kids. I found sports in general really boring. I never even learnt to throw a ball over-arm properly, because I wasn't paying attention when the PE teacher showed us how to play cricket. This led to immense difficulties filming the coconut shy scene in my first music video.
As a grown up, I felt a burning desire to prove my strength and fitness. My former boss, Chris, took up running and suggested I enter the City to Surf competition last year. This is a huge annual fun-run in Perth that stretches 12 kilometres from St Georges Terrace to the coast at City Beach. Tens of thousands of participants enter. There are also half-marathon and marathon events taking place on the same day for long-distance runners.I trained for several weeks beforehand, gradually building up from 20 minutes' jogging on a treadmill (stopping to stretch every five minutes) to a 10 kilometre route around the Swan river (widely known as the bridges run) and finally to 12 kilometres on the treadmill. I kept the speed low, around 8-9 kilometres an hour, and broke up the tedious treadmill sessions by varying the incline from 1 degree to 3 degrees periodically, to mimic road conditions. Fortunately I could do this at home, as Sharon (my housemate and landlord) let me borrow her treadmill. My fitness levels improved greatly and I felt that the training (3 to 4 sessions a week) was going well.
I completed last year's 12k run in 78 minutes and 37 seconds, which isn't super-fast, but pretty good for a first-time runner. This year I decided to go one better and train for the half-marathon - 21 kilometres, or 13 miles. I'd left it late, and had just 4 weeks until the race to train. Chris emailed me some detailed instructions which I really appreciated. "4 weeks is tight but if you set a training plan and stick to it you will be fine," he said.
Knowing I could run 12k was a huge confidence boost - last year that had felt like an impossible distance. After a few jogs around the park, I decided I was ready to make the leap to the 10k bridges run. This became my regular training route, 3 to 4 times a week.
People slag Perth off for being a boring city (me amongst them) but the views as you run around the river, from the Narrows bridge to the Causeway, are breathtaking. You don't know Perth until you've been for a run around the river, seen the relaxed pace of life and smelt the briny air blowing straight in off the Indian ocean. The facilities for runners and cyclists are world-class.
Soon, I needed to increase my distance above 10km, so I found a route which would take me all round the river from the Narrows bridge up to Burswood. The estimated distance was 13.5km - a nice step up but nothing too strenuous. When I attempted the run everything went well, but it took me a very long time to finish. I checked the pedometer app on my phone when I returned to the car and discovered I'd just run 16km!
So my training was suddenly ahead of schedule. My knees felt a bit stiff during the run but remarkably I felt fine the next day. Things looked very promising. I was entering the realm of crazy night-time joggers.
With race day only a fortnight away, I decided to increase my distance again. I planned a route that took me along the Swan river from the Causeway to South Perth, then 3-4km south along the Canning river to the Comer Reserve footbridge, back up the way I came, over the Narrows bridge, along the Perth foreshore and back to the Causeway. I estimated this to be 18km, but when I finished my pedometer told me I'd run 20km! Nothing could stop me now.A couple of days before the race, I went to the Perth convention centre to pick up my race pack. This is when they issue you a numbered race bib which contains a timing microchip. The convention centre is a big, draughty building with curved white walls, that somehow looks deserted even when it's thronging with people. The half marathon cost $85 to enter, slightly more than the $65 I paid last year to enter the 12k run (obviously a proportion of this goes to charity).
I was consoled by the fact my race pack included a free green T-shirt with a running stick figure and the words 'half marathon finisher' on it. It seemed a bit presumptuous to call me a 'half marathon finisher' when I'd not even run the race, but this was written on everyone's T-shirts, and hopefully I could make the prophecy come true!
I got up very early on Sunday morning, ate toast for breakfast (making sure I finished eating at least two hours before the start of the race), put on the green T-shirt, attached my bib and drove to a street on West Perth (15 minutes' walk from the starting point) with free parking. As I walked to the meeting point the city was deserted, save for race stewards and a few determined marathon runners who started their course at 6am.
I waited with hundreds of other runners, some stretching, others relaxing, in a big shed-like room at the convention centre. Overhead, a clean-cut man and woman on a projection screen took us through some stretching exercises whilst namechecking a never-ending list of sponsors. The moment of truth was near. I felt no nerves.
The shutters at the back of the room were open to the morning air but our path was blocked by a handful of stewards in orange T-shirts. I was bored as I had no-one to wait with. This is the downside to training and running the race alone. After an interminable length of time the stewards led us in a jog to the starting point.
Suddenly I felt tired and rusty, a bit like I used to feel during cross country running at school. Had I slackened off too much with my training? They tell you to taper off your distances in the week before race day. I passed the starting point on William street in a slow jog. The first hill leading up to Kings Park was very tough going.I walk this hill regularly on the way to work but running it is a different proposition. I'd not thought to include hills in my training, which had all been on flat ground. I made it to the top of the hill and kept going. My heart pounded in my chest.
The next section deviated from the 12k course, taking us on a circuitous route round Kings Park. Rain fell in a drizzle through the tall trees, keeping conditions cool. I passed a wizened old man with a beard running a full marathon. His bravery and ambition made me feel more optimistic about my challenge ahead. I was perturbed at the sight of some medics tending to a middle-aged man in an oxygen mask. He looked okay, but people occasionally die from running the City to Surf and I didn't intend to be one of them.
"You can do it, 6694!" A woman yelled my number as I ran through Kings Park. I was pleased to see so many passers-by shouting words of encouragement. I reflected on the niceness of random strangers in Australia, one of the reasons I like living here. We passed the '10km' flag on the way out of Kings Park. I'd nearly run half the race!
We rejoined the 12k course, which took us through the suburbs of Subiaco and Mount Claremont. Groups of orange-shirted volunteers handed out cups of water and Powerade. The streets were littered with discarded paper cups. I was amused by the volunteers who stood on fences with the specific job of yelling encouragement to the runners.
'Chevron - the power of human energy' proclaimed numerous sinister banners. "Fuck you Chevron, you can stick your corporate branding where the sun don't shine," I thought. I didn't need the encouragement of the oil and gas industry to run this race.
I was never the fastest runner and while the first hill had dented my confidence, I was still making steady progress. I passed the 16km banner, then the 18km banner, then, finally, with the sea looming large on the horizon, the 20km banner. We were nearly done.
As I rounded the final corner I felt a twinge in my right ankle. I realised now that my pedometer had given me too high a reading during training - this 21km felt much longer than the '20km' I thought I had run. This is what you get for being a tightwad and downloading free apps. My ankle held out and I crossed the finish line with a time of 2 hours, 22 minutes and 54 seconds. I received a shiny silver medal and some free fruit and drinks as a reward.In the days that followed it emerged that 2 runners had died after the race this year. One of them was 32, the same age as me, and running the race that I had run last year. We're bombarded with deaths in the news every day, but this shocked me. I realised I was very fortunate to be so healthy and to have completed the race without any complications. Could all this exercise actually be bad for you? Everyone dies eventually, so you might as well just try and have fun and be the best person you can.
In running this half-marathon I have achieved what I once thought would be impossible. My next goal is to one day run the London marathon. It's hard to explain what I like about running, but it gives me a focus and sense of purpose that is otherwise lacking. People tell me I've never looked fitter and my friends now ask me for advice on running. I'm no expert and can only tell you what has worked for me.
One thing's for sure though - I've got running nailed. Time to work on my throwing technique.
(Photos from PerthNow)
