Never underestimate a fun run field, that's what I learned again today. Looking back to last year when I ran this race I did the same thing - thought that because it was a breast cancer fundraiser it would be full of not-so-serious runners.
Uh uh. And I forgot. That wasn't the point... but I'll get back to that.
The day started well before dawn. After a broken sleep I was up in the cold and dark to get some breakfast in me before the run, and honestly wondering why I do this nonsense, especially on a day off when I could be sleeping in.
None-the-less, I made my way to the Queen's Domain for two laps of a flat course - with the exception of one nasty hill that steepens toward the top, just to be a real bugger. The 8km run is the first of three events, so parking wasn't a problem, although it's a fair hike to the athletics track where the race starts and ends.
It was cold and dewy and I was still grumpy and then the organisers couldn't find my timing band so I had to queue in the lost souls department and then the bag lady (as I called the woman in the gear tent) was grumpy and took an instant dislike to me (or so I imagined) and... well, you get my drift.
Finally we're all set and at last get under way. I'm seeing blokes running in jeans and jumpers with kids in tow and a few fatties gasping and hacking their way at the back (where I'm also running) and I'm really wondering what I'm doing here - I could be running along the beach or in the mountains, or even better, still at home in bed asleep (
sacrilege!).
So anyway, I'm just treating this as a training run - nice, steady 6 min kilometres will do me nicely, but I'm surrounded by people who clearly shouldn't be there. But then, hang on - it finally dawns on me - most of these people are wearing placards as well as race numbers commemorating lost mothers, wives, sisters and friends. Suddenly the guy running in jeans coaxing along two kids in warm jackets takes on significance. The fatties running with tears in their eyes aren't crying at the pain of the run, but in remembrance of loved ones. I stop feeling grumpy and begin to admire these people and then as I finally pull away from them on the hill climb just get on with my own race and begin to think about my own mum, dead 20 years this October.
To cut the story short, I ran a technically near-perfect run, beautifully paced and finishing in 47:35, a long way back in the field, a long way short of a PB, but really doing all that I was trying to achieve, so it was actually a good run. And it helped a worthy cause, so I was glad I made the effort.
And it wasn't all sombre commemoration. One wag had taken to the dog poo collection bins that dotted the course, changing the "d" of "dog" so that the sign above the dog poo bag dispenser now read "Please clean up after your jog". Made me smile anyway.
Despite knotted calfs (calves?) I eschewed the free massage this year (the queue was pretty long by the time I got there) so headed straight home for a second breakfast. The walk back to the car however was strangely moving. Hundreds and hundreds of people were arriving for the 4km walk and it was incredibly touching to see so many people either having been affected by breast cancer or at least moved to contribute on the day.
Having worked briefly last year with people who had been in a breast cancer cluster environment (13 cancers in a few years), I understand how prevalent the disease is. Even so, I was genuinely moved to see so many people rocking up for the event.
Oh, and I should mention the goodie bag. It was pink, not surprisingly. The finisher's medal was even pink (see pic) and it even had a pink Tupperware container, along with other fancy stuff. Pretty good for Australia, which generally doesn't do goodie bags.
So, a good day. A good race.
Running is good.
Really good.
May Survive...
