Opportunities multiply as they are seized.
Sun Tzu
Sun Tzu
Running, in many ways, has been overshadowed by swimming this season. With both disciplines new to me as of this season I have often looked back fondly at the progress made with swimming, while taking for granted the gradually growing distances of my running. However, on the horizon throughout late 2009 was the knowledge that my runs would reach the three hour mark. Thus, with my training in full swing I saw the opportunity to run to work. At 31kms the trip would be one to remember, and thus running would finally have it day in the sun.
Like most runners, the first ten minutes of a run is an opportunity to relive those moments when fitness didn't exist. The heart starts pumping faster and the blood circulates around the body a little more quickly. And then there's the breathing. Ah yes, the lungs burning and the snot and spit flying around while your are wondering if this outing was a clever move - or not. It seemed on this run that the latter was possibly the case, with my run starting at around 7am on a Sunday morning, and the run from my house in Kapiti to Porirua seeming a long way after just a few kms. I had the wind at my back though, so all seemed to bode well.
Past Paekakariki and starting along Centenial Highway
Reaching Paekakariki in good time I knew that with ten kms behind me the real test was about to start. The long stretch of road between Paekakariki and Pukerua Bay is the 'Centennial Highway' and this section of roading would be key to this run. Losing focus (and thus motivation) before the climb over Pukerua Bay would be a huge mistake, and thus I made a point of keeping an eye on the time, maintaining good form, and noting motorists who were missing out on a special run along a beautiful New Zealand coastline.
Reaching the base of the Pukerua Bay hill I started a modestly paced plod up the climb, knowing the long descent down the other side would be an absolute pleasure. And it was. The remainder of that climb was fairly honest though, and I'd love to see a race that incorporated that climb, with the second ascent deceptively steep and no doubt many pretenders would be found out as they blew up within sight of the top. A steady pace was allowed on this run however, so no heroics were needed.
The top allowed for a quick swapping around of bottles on my fuel belt and the start of a long descent that I am sure had me running four minute kms at times. As I rapidly closed in on Porirua I focused solely on my form, and for those special moments I felt like I was the only person on the planet staying still...with the rest of our globe turning under my feet. I suppose this is the feeling runners aspire to return to.
Centenial Highway
Reaching the Plimmerton Weigh station I was back on the flat, but had broken the back of this run, with just Mana to get through before reaching my destination. Seldom easy, this run continued as it had progressed, with a constant focus on reaching my goal, and the steps counting off my progress. As I was running through Mana I was passed by the van driven by Ruth. Alex, Amy, and David waving from inside. Shortly thereafter I threw my fuel belt to Ruth as I passed the now parked van. "See you in ten minutes", I said, and crossed the bridge that joins Mana to Porirua. And ten minutes it was, with my thoughts going back to last June and July when I recalled the two kms from the Shell service station to my place of work being the second half of what was seen as a moderately long run.
Those memories seemed to be from another lifetime as the road disappeared behind me. In front of me the van sat, waiting, with my children playing happily in the adjoining playground, and my wife patiently wanting - hoping once again for my safe arrival. "Come and see where we've been playing", said Alex, as reached the run's finish. Alex took my hand and led me to the playground. His ignorance of my fatigue was as refreshing as it was puzzling. He just wanted to live in the moment, and in many ways this was my lasting memory (and lesson) of the run.
On the way home in the van I didn't point out sections of the road that had captured highlights and low-lights. This is normally a debrief of sorts, but seemed pointless on this occasion, as those moments had existed on this day and many others in what was becoming a blur of training and recovering and sleeping and eating...and at some point becoming so accustomed to the Ironman way of life that I often wondered if this wasn't more of a rehearsal for the Ironman than training for the Ironman. The subtle distinction seemed somewhat profound at times.
Most of all though, I didn't say anything about the run's moment's on the way home because I was thinking about what was next. The day before this run my swim had started at 6am and the work-out finished at 2:50pm, with nine hours becoming almost normal throughout January and to mid-February. These long Saturdays followed six and half hour Thursday's, with 'Brick Session' being learnt and lived twice a week. The following week would be the same, but with even less fanfare. I was dropped off at work and would run 32kms home, also running through the sand dunes that occupy Kapiti's QE Park.
Those memories seemed to be from another lifetime as the road disappeared behind me. In front of me the van sat, waiting, with my children playing happily in the adjoining playground, and my wife patiently wanting - hoping once again for my safe arrival. "Come and see where we've been playing", said Alex, as reached the run's finish. Alex took my hand and led me to the playground. His ignorance of my fatigue was as refreshing as it was puzzling. He just wanted to live in the moment, and in many ways this was my lasting memory (and lesson) of the run.
On the way home in the van I didn't point out sections of the road that had captured highlights and low-lights. This is normally a debrief of sorts, but seemed pointless on this occasion, as those moments had existed on this day and many others in what was becoming a blur of training and recovering and sleeping and eating...and at some point becoming so accustomed to the Ironman way of life that I often wondered if this wasn't more of a rehearsal for the Ironman than training for the Ironman. The subtle distinction seemed somewhat profound at times.
Most of all though, I didn't say anything about the run's moment's on the way home because I was thinking about what was next. The day before this run my swim had started at 6am and the work-out finished at 2:50pm, with nine hours becoming almost normal throughout January and to mid-February. These long Saturdays followed six and half hour Thursday's, with 'Brick Session' being learnt and lived twice a week. The following week would be the same, but with even less fanfare. I was dropped off at work and would run 32kms home, also running through the sand dunes that occupy Kapiti's QE Park.
Almost finished. Ten minutes from work...Lastly then - if a last word is fitting - I have become acutely aware that I will not be remembered for outings such as next weeks Ironman. No. It is who I am as a person that will be recalled. Thus, it is hoped that those who have encountered me this season will have had their own journeys enriched by having shared mine.
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