Perhaps this title of this blog today is a little ambiguous but, like it or not, people love violence, horror and action…and a percentage of those who don’t may enjoy the Meatloaf reference?
Regardless….some of you may have noticed that I haven’t
written a lot lately, and whilst this can normally be attributed to me being
quite lazy, a technology breakdown, or my short-attention span, on this
occasion I’ve been a bit pre-occupied with this lil’ thing called ‘my wedding’.
For those of you runners and athletes unfamiliar with the
concept, a marriage is basically an event where you pour every spare second of
your time into folding thousands of pieces of glued card, choose between 19
different types of lace and table cloth, and sniff a million differing types of
scented candles, and spend a lot of time saying “I agree, that’s quite lovely”…the
payoff being; you can give a little back to that special someone who (against
logic) sits by while you race, or lift, or obsess over diets and/or
supplements.
And let’s be honest….no one else would put up with your
crazy obsessive ways.
So, being a running blog I won’t spend too long on the ‘W’
word, there are MORE than enough flowery and poetic Wedding blogs out there,
TRUST ME!
So...needless to say, when the big day came, I managed to get out a lazy 30km training run
before the ceremony, which went well; People were happy, suits and dresses were
worn, tears were wept, and (most importantly) she said ‘I do’. Verbal contract
sorted.
Our Honeymoon of 2 weeks in Vietnam was planned around a
race during a Half-Marathon festival I found on the island of Phu Quoc….of
course it was.
Regardless, as I was busy with the Wedding itself I soon
found myself without any research or knowledge of the race or climate toeing
the start line of the afternoon race (3pm local time). The weather for the race
was an uncomfortable sunny 34degrees, however a morning storm had wet the
ground sufficiently enough to produce a sickening amount of humidity come race
time à
85%!!!!!!
Added to this was the newfound knowledge that the 400-odd runners
set to compete with me came from an assortment of 30 different countries! I had
NO IDEA how competitive, fast, or co-operative they would be!
In a seeming stroke of pre-emptive genius my (now) wife had
signed us up for the 10km, instead of the Half Marathon, so some reassurance
came from the knowledge that ‘hopefully’ the majority of the very fast looking
runners around me would hopefully be running the ‘premier event’ and I could represent the country of Australia well and do my countrymen and women well!
Regardless I made the conscious effort to head out fast, and then see who was around me, how the course felt (75% of the course was on clay,
muddy, unpaved tracks) as well as who the ‘competitors’ were.
That's when the gun went off.
I shot away and fortunately found myself in a very
comfortable, but speedy pace at the front. In spite of the heat, I was feeling
pretty good and with a kilometre down (in around 3mins) I decided to continue
to build on my lead.
2km, still feeling good and with a now solid lead I eased
off to a speed slightly above comfort, figuring I could leave only enough ‘fuel in
the tank’ at the 5km turnaround to run the 5km home to hopefully take out the
win!
This is where things went quite wrong, in a very monumental
way.
When I hit the 5km turnaround a number of Vietnamese race
marshalls excitedly greeted me, I was visibly quite exhausted, so I grabbed the
supplied water, thanked them and turned around…
…only to be stopped.
“No….Keep going!” they said, pointing
further up the road.
I glanced over at the sign (which clearly read in blue
letters; ‘5km turnaround’), my blue bib, then at my GPS garmin; which confirmed
that I had run 5km to the turn-around.
“No…” I smiled and reassured them, “…I’m in the 10km! this
is my turn.”
“No!” All five of them insisted! “YOU keep going!”
My heart dropped through my feet. They not only could not
understand English or what I was saying, but they honestly believed that I was
a half marathon runner.
One of them shoved me along, urging me to continue on.
So...I ran, and the pace bike continued on with me.
At this juncture I was in quite a state as I considered,
just how exhausted I was, as well as how much further I now had to run! Would
the more experienced runners, reel me in as my body failed me later? Would I be
disqualified? Would I even be able to finish the race?
The weather immediately felt hotter.
But I managed to push on. And I did finish, not ridiculously
quickly, but given the time taken in futile to ‘talk’ to the Race Marshalls, my
fast start, and the weather conditions I was happy to simply cross the finish
line at all!
And they credited me with the win in the Half Marathon! I
beamed with pride, in my Intraining (sponsor - www.intraining.com.au- check 'em out!) singlet and laughed at scenario
much later, as they presented me with my trophy, and still as I type this, it
all seems so surreal.
I guess the point of all of this is to remind us all that we
are capable of so much more than our measly doubts will try to tell us. We all
have a strength that is there when we need it, and has the ability to step up
and reach further than we could imagine.
For my poor wife Michelle, this race was a little bit more
traumatic. For the extra 30-odd minutes I was gone, she was forced to deal with
the fact that less than a week into her marriage, she had quite literally lost
her husband in a foreign land!
(If you read this Shell, thank you for not attacking me with
an empty, and extraordinarily cheap Saigon Beer bottle when I rounded that
corner to cross the line!).
With my first race since Phu Quoc this weekend, I can only
hope it’s a lot less ‘eventful’!
Stay safe,
Hug that ‘special supporter’, buy them some flowers,
and enjoy your running!
Clay
