Running the Cadbury Half Marathon, 2018
I love race day. From the moment I get up, I am as excited as Bryan Taylor at the football. I had an early breakfast and double checked I had everything I needed, then it was time to jump in the car. The pre-race atmosphere around the start line is intoxicating (not in the same way that the atmosphere before the Dr Phil show is intoxicating though- allegedly) and I moved around eagerly, greeting friends and soaking up the energy.
The marathon started first and for once I was an onlooker. I saw my friends take off and felt a thrill of excitement for them and how I imagined they would feel at the end of the race. Today I would be running the half marathon, which started half an hour later, giving me time for a good warm up and another snack before the race began. This was actually kind of my first half marathon. I had slogged my way through the Point to Pinnacle a few times, but this was my first crack at running a half marathon fast.
So, understandably, I was pretty nervous and a little unsure as to what sort of pace I should start at- doubly so as my hip has been pretty sore for the last week or so. I had been hoping it was nothing, but hips don’t lie, according to noted sports scientist, Shakira (who although she didn’t site any peer-reviewed studies, kept repeating her claim with complete confidence), so as race day got closer, I began to worry more about what impact it might have. As the final minutes ticked down to the start of the race, I took a quick photo with all the Solemates who would be running in the event with me. A few of the group would be running their first ever half so it was pretty exciting wishing them luck as we headed for the start line.
The marathon started first and for once I was an onlooker. I saw my friends take off and felt a thrill of excitement for them and how I imagined they would feel at the end of the race. Today I would be running the half marathon, which started half an hour later, giving me time for a good warm up and another snack before the race began. This was actually kind of my first half marathon. I had slogged my way through the Point to Pinnacle a few times, but this was my first crack at running a half marathon fast.
So, understandably, I was pretty nervous and a little unsure as to what sort of pace I should start at- doubly so as my hip has been pretty sore for the last week or so. I had been hoping it was nothing, but hips don’t lie, according to noted sports scientist, Shakira (who although she didn’t site any peer-reviewed studies, kept repeating her claim with complete confidence), so as race day got closer, I began to worry more about what impact it might have. As the final minutes ticked down to the start of the race, I took a quick photo with all the Solemates who would be running in the event with me. A few of the group would be running their first ever half so it was pretty exciting wishing them luck as we headed for the start line.
Bang! The starter gun fired and we were away. The first moments after the gun provide a beautiful sensation of freedom as the shackles holding you back have suddenly been released and you are free to be everything you can be. It is kind of how I imagine it will feel when Australia finally votes out this despicable Coalition Government.
I burst away from the start line and settled into a quick pace. Within seconds I could see the lead runners were already pulling away from me like the film industry distancing itself from Harvey Weinstein. This was no surprise and I made no attempt to keep up. The course turned right within a few hundred metres and we began a lap of the Cadbury estate. It was only a few minutes later that I came back around past the start once more, buoyed by boisterous cheering from the spectators, and began the main part of the race.
I made the most of the first downhill section, leaning forwards and lengthening my stride a little. The hill’s momentum carried my along the next few hundred metres of flat road until the road turned away from the water and climbed past Windermere Primary School. We turned at the top of the hill and followed Main Road as it gently dipped and climbed its way south towards the Derwent Entertainment Centre.
I took on some electrolytes at the 5km drink station and realised I was running better than I had hoped. My friend, Drew, was still just visible ahead of me. I knew that wouldn’t last, but was pretty happy to have kept him in sight for this long without over exerting myself. In fact, I was in far better shape than I expected to be.
I deliberately quelled any excessive excitement, as there was a long way to go and I could remember how hard the way back had been running the marathon here last year. I watched Drew disappear ahead of me like the international community’s respect for our country, but didn’t let that worry me. We had begun to catch up with the back half of the marathon on the way out of Berriedale. I got an extra lift in my spirits when I exchanged words of encouragement with the Green Machine and Courto near Montrose Bay High.
I grabbed another drink at the 9km aid station and heard someone calling my name. Half-blinded by the water that I had just thrown into my face, I turned and tried to focus on the small blurred outlines on the side of the road. It was two of my students, who were out watching their dad, Phil, complete his first marathon. I gave them a smile and a wave as I turned and headed towards the Bowen Bridge.
I burst away from the start line and settled into a quick pace. Within seconds I could see the lead runners were already pulling away from me like the film industry distancing itself from Harvey Weinstein. This was no surprise and I made no attempt to keep up. The course turned right within a few hundred metres and we began a lap of the Cadbury estate. It was only a few minutes later that I came back around past the start once more, buoyed by boisterous cheering from the spectators, and began the main part of the race.
I made the most of the first downhill section, leaning forwards and lengthening my stride a little. The hill’s momentum carried my along the next few hundred metres of flat road until the road turned away from the water and climbed past Windermere Primary School. We turned at the top of the hill and followed Main Road as it gently dipped and climbed its way south towards the Derwent Entertainment Centre.
I took on some electrolytes at the 5km drink station and realised I was running better than I had hoped. My friend, Drew, was still just visible ahead of me. I knew that wouldn’t last, but was pretty happy to have kept him in sight for this long without over exerting myself. In fact, I was in far better shape than I expected to be.
I deliberately quelled any excessive excitement, as there was a long way to go and I could remember how hard the way back had been running the marathon here last year. I watched Drew disappear ahead of me like the international community’s respect for our country, but didn’t let that worry me. We had begun to catch up with the back half of the marathon on the way out of Berriedale. I got an extra lift in my spirits when I exchanged words of encouragement with the Green Machine and Courto near Montrose Bay High.
I grabbed another drink at the 9km aid station and heard someone calling my name. Half-blinded by the water that I had just thrown into my face, I turned and tried to focus on the small blurred outlines on the side of the road. It was two of my students, who were out watching their dad, Phil, complete his first marathon. I gave them a smile and a wave as I turned and headed towards the Bowen Bridge.
The rise leading onto the western edge of the bridge is surprisingly hard when you are not in a car. But once I was onto the bridge itself, I enjoyed the gentle cross breeze and the glittering water below me. We turned soon after crossing the bridge, with about ten kilometres to go. As usual for this point in the race I had begun looking at my current time and updating what I thought might be possible. I was a little in front of where I expected to be and my body was holding up well. My feet were hurting, but distance running and sore feet go together like Essendon and drug scandals, so I wasn’t too worried about that. Feeling relatively strong, I realised I was in a position to exceed my already ambitious goal time by a couple of minutes if I kept pushing myself.
For a long time I had thought my tendency to update my goals mid-race was a mistake and set me up for failure. But I have changed my mind on that. Now that I view failures as inevitable to the process of constantly challenging myself, this process makes sense and ensures I get the most out of myself in every race so I have stopped trying to deny it. With this in mind, I realised my original goal was almost assured if I ran the last ten kilometres at a slightly slower pace that I knew I could hold. But I also knew I was capable of more than that so (much like the Trump administration) I decided I was here for a good time not a long time and resolved to keep my current speed for as long as I thought it was sustainable to see what I was actually capable of.
I hadn’t anticipated how crowded the bridge would be on the way back. There were now large numbers of runners coming in both directions, often grouped in packs around the pacers. As a result, overtaking became quite difficult and I sometimes had to change direction quicker than a Brisbane Heat batsman (I know, that joke’s not going to age well) but I managed to avoid collisions or unnecessary delay.
Evan and Julian had been running right on my shoulder for a couple of kilometres, but I must have started to slow as we returned to the western shore. As the two of them overtook, I gratefully tucked in behind them and let them pace me for a while. The next couple of kilometres disappeared relatively easily as I kept a rhythm with the two runners in front of me (something anyone who has tried to dance with me will find hard to believe). However, as we turned a corner to bring the DEC back into view, the guys in front began to go a little faster (or I got a bit slower- in the style of Malcolm Roberts I choose to believe I wasn’t getting slower because that suits my narrative).
As I ran back towards the DEC, I realised a slight northerly wind had picked up. Whilst nowhere near as strong as it was when I ran the same section in the Glenorchy Ten, it still came as an unwelcome surprise as the forecast had not mentioned it. As I turned onto the Brooker Highway, I was pushing into the worst of the breeze and combined with a bit of fatigue, I realised I was suddenly working a lot harder to hold the same pace. Up until that moment, I had been running with a sense that I was holding a bit of speed back in order not to burn myself out. But with six kilometres to go I was using all of my effort to hold my target pace.
I struggled on, having a whole lot less fun than I had been a short while earlier. I’m no Big Shaq, but my quick mafs game is pretty strong (another joke that won’t age well), so I began running a number of calculations in my head working out my different finishing times based on what pace I held for the last 5km. I was labouring with a painful stitch by now. I knew how thrilled I was going to be to get to the end, but that seemed a fair way off. Instead of dwelling on the distance still to go, I reminded myself to be patient and just focused on my breathing and form for the next little while.
The presidential motorcade did a noisy drive-by as I entered Berriedale and I managed a weak wave in response. I grabbed a final drink at 17km and steeled myself for the hill beyond. While people don’t talk about it as much as the final hill, it is just as long and doesn’t have the finish line at the top of it to help you get up there. Once I had battled to the top though, I knew I was ready to run for the finish line. I gathered speed along the flat part of Main Road and accelerated again as I turned downhill into Cadbury Road. From the bottom of the road there was little more than 1500 metres so I ran hard, forcing my breath through protesting lungs. The cheering at the base of Cadbury Hill was deafening as I ran past and carried me most of the way up the hill. My legs were heavy as the ground flattened out for the final 200 metre sprint, but once again, spurred on spectators lining the road, I found the energy for a final effort, sighing with relief when I hit the line.
I was really happy with my run and felt great once I got my breath back. But the race itself is only part of the fun (some might say the least fun part) of a day like this. After spending a few minutes near the finish line chatting to Drew and Josh, I wandered over to Solemates Corner, which was about 100 metres before the finish line. I had a quick chat to the people already gathered there, before my warm down.
For a long time I had thought my tendency to update my goals mid-race was a mistake and set me up for failure. But I have changed my mind on that. Now that I view failures as inevitable to the process of constantly challenging myself, this process makes sense and ensures I get the most out of myself in every race so I have stopped trying to deny it. With this in mind, I realised my original goal was almost assured if I ran the last ten kilometres at a slightly slower pace that I knew I could hold. But I also knew I was capable of more than that so (much like the Trump administration) I decided I was here for a good time not a long time and resolved to keep my current speed for as long as I thought it was sustainable to see what I was actually capable of.
I hadn’t anticipated how crowded the bridge would be on the way back. There were now large numbers of runners coming in both directions, often grouped in packs around the pacers. As a result, overtaking became quite difficult and I sometimes had to change direction quicker than a Brisbane Heat batsman (I know, that joke’s not going to age well) but I managed to avoid collisions or unnecessary delay.
Evan and Julian had been running right on my shoulder for a couple of kilometres, but I must have started to slow as we returned to the western shore. As the two of them overtook, I gratefully tucked in behind them and let them pace me for a while. The next couple of kilometres disappeared relatively easily as I kept a rhythm with the two runners in front of me (something anyone who has tried to dance with me will find hard to believe). However, as we turned a corner to bring the DEC back into view, the guys in front began to go a little faster (or I got a bit slower- in the style of Malcolm Roberts I choose to believe I wasn’t getting slower because that suits my narrative).
As I ran back towards the DEC, I realised a slight northerly wind had picked up. Whilst nowhere near as strong as it was when I ran the same section in the Glenorchy Ten, it still came as an unwelcome surprise as the forecast had not mentioned it. As I turned onto the Brooker Highway, I was pushing into the worst of the breeze and combined with a bit of fatigue, I realised I was suddenly working a lot harder to hold the same pace. Up until that moment, I had been running with a sense that I was holding a bit of speed back in order not to burn myself out. But with six kilometres to go I was using all of my effort to hold my target pace.
I struggled on, having a whole lot less fun than I had been a short while earlier. I’m no Big Shaq, but my quick mafs game is pretty strong (another joke that won’t age well), so I began running a number of calculations in my head working out my different finishing times based on what pace I held for the last 5km. I was labouring with a painful stitch by now. I knew how thrilled I was going to be to get to the end, but that seemed a fair way off. Instead of dwelling on the distance still to go, I reminded myself to be patient and just focused on my breathing and form for the next little while.
The presidential motorcade did a noisy drive-by as I entered Berriedale and I managed a weak wave in response. I grabbed a final drink at 17km and steeled myself for the hill beyond. While people don’t talk about it as much as the final hill, it is just as long and doesn’t have the finish line at the top of it to help you get up there. Once I had battled to the top though, I knew I was ready to run for the finish line. I gathered speed along the flat part of Main Road and accelerated again as I turned downhill into Cadbury Road. From the bottom of the road there was little more than 1500 metres so I ran hard, forcing my breath through protesting lungs. The cheering at the base of Cadbury Hill was deafening as I ran past and carried me most of the way up the hill. My legs were heavy as the ground flattened out for the final 200 metre sprint, but once again, spurred on spectators lining the road, I found the energy for a final effort, sighing with relief when I hit the line.
I was really happy with my run and felt great once I got my breath back. But the race itself is only part of the fun (some might say the least fun part) of a day like this. After spending a few minutes near the finish line chatting to Drew and Josh, I wandered over to Solemates Corner, which was about 100 metres before the finish line. I had a quick chat to the people already gathered there, before my warm down.
I did my warm down in the best possible way today, shuffling slowly back along the course, taking the chance to wave, high five and yell encouragement at everyone I saw along the way. Whilst I loved interacting with all the people and volunteers on the course, I had two particularly special moments when I met up with Jacqui and Jenna, both of whom were looking super strong as they surged towards finishing their first ever half marathons.
Inspired by Ben Hirst the Banana man, the Cadbury Marathon was replete with costumed runners, including sharks, clowns and our friend Where’s Willy, who despite having a name that sounds like the title of an adult video, is actually totally PG. Instead of running his own race, Where’s Willy would simply keep people company and encourage them as they ran sections of the course (running 25km himself in the process). He ran along with me for a few minutes before seeing someone who needed some support going the other way (or just deciding I was too slow) and heading off with them.
I turned to run back with my friend Naomi who was flying towards the finish of her second full marathon and a 30-minute PB. My tired legs struggled to keep up as this diminutive and humble superstar tore up the final kilometres. Despite her incredibly disciplined training regime, it wasn’t hard to tell Nay was hurting, but she sublimated any pain and forced herself onwards.
Where’s Willy joined us as we worked hard climbing Cadbury Hill and rounded the corner to be met by shrieks and yells of encouragement from Solemates Corner. Part of me was disappointed I hadn’t put more effort into making Watch me nay nay, Naomi’s official theme song (but most of me will be pretty happy to never hear that song again) as we entered the final straight. Naomi and Jarrod were too fast for me as they sprinted for the line, but I joined them soon after to celebrate.
Buzzing with elation, we hung around Solemates Corner for another couple of hours, watching everyone come home. Eventually it was time to go and find some lunch and continue the celebrations. It was another fantastic day. The event itself had run smoothly with a wonderful atmosphere and the volunteers were as amazing as always. Conditions had been perfect once again so there had been some very impressive results recorded (full results here). Many of my friends achieved things they would not have thought possible six months ago so the feeling around the place was absolutely euphoric.
Next year my only decision will be whether to do the half or full, as I will definitely be here.
Inspired by Ben Hirst the Banana man, the Cadbury Marathon was replete with costumed runners, including sharks, clowns and our friend Where’s Willy, who despite having a name that sounds like the title of an adult video, is actually totally PG. Instead of running his own race, Where’s Willy would simply keep people company and encourage them as they ran sections of the course (running 25km himself in the process). He ran along with me for a few minutes before seeing someone who needed some support going the other way (or just deciding I was too slow) and heading off with them.
I turned to run back with my friend Naomi who was flying towards the finish of her second full marathon and a 30-minute PB. My tired legs struggled to keep up as this diminutive and humble superstar tore up the final kilometres. Despite her incredibly disciplined training regime, it wasn’t hard to tell Nay was hurting, but she sublimated any pain and forced herself onwards.
Where’s Willy joined us as we worked hard climbing Cadbury Hill and rounded the corner to be met by shrieks and yells of encouragement from Solemates Corner. Part of me was disappointed I hadn’t put more effort into making Watch me nay nay, Naomi’s official theme song (but most of me will be pretty happy to never hear that song again) as we entered the final straight. Naomi and Jarrod were too fast for me as they sprinted for the line, but I joined them soon after to celebrate.
Buzzing with elation, we hung around Solemates Corner for another couple of hours, watching everyone come home. Eventually it was time to go and find some lunch and continue the celebrations. It was another fantastic day. The event itself had run smoothly with a wonderful atmosphere and the volunteers were as amazing as always. Conditions had been perfect once again so there had been some very impressive results recorded (full results here). Many of my friends achieved things they would not have thought possible six months ago so the feeling around the place was absolutely euphoric.
Next year my only decision will be whether to do the half or full, as I will definitely be here.