CAN YOU BE A RUNNER AND WORKOUT AT THE GYM TOO? An Experiment (Part 1)

 

It is perhaps the lesser known of the Commandments handed down that day on Mount Sinai…..probably. You know? The ‘fitness one’?

‘Thou shalt never mix fashionable strength training sessions with endurance running! Lest ye become too heavy to move at a pace faster than a hesitant, two legged donkey over bumpy terrain!’’

I’m taking liberties, and (between you and me) and I’m hardly an expert on biblical facts. Regardless, it has long been touted that any type of strength based training is amongst the WORST things an aspiring runner can do for his or her fitness. Akin, perhaps, to repetitive head injuries, recreational hot-coal walking, or Cheese grater home pedicures.

So it was with great trepidation that I strode into……SHOCK…..a gym last November.

You see, after a few years of dedicated (some would argue ‘manic compulsion’) running training, mostly, using the tried and true methods of weeks involving standard long runs, hill sessions, and regular speed/interval work, I’d found myself at the end of the season with a vicious, niggling hip fatigue injury.

 

My options were spelt out in plain English by my General GP (after conformation xrays and tests);

1)      Quit running and buy 5 cats,

2)      Start riding a bike, or

3)      Swim.

This left me with an obvious problem. I’m not a ‘cat person’, I have a horrible habit of holding my breath too much when I swim, and the terrain (and drivers) where I live is not accommodating to cyclists (I look horrible in lycra also).

It was eerily around the time of this realisation that a close friend of mine (and local Gym owner)

Mitchell suggested I try out a week or two at his gym (The approachable and welcomingly titled; ‘People’s Gym’). Normally I would politely decline such an offer, but Mitch himself is supremely fit, as well as being an accomplished Ironman and Triathlete. My interest was in the least sparked.

By another seemingly cosmic coincidence (if you believe in it) that afternoon I noticed an Instagram post by Australian (and QLD) runner Britney McGowan of her at the gym……doing…of all things…..bar pullups!

I messaged Mitch that night to say that I’d give it a shot.

 

Fast forward to the first week of classes (they pretty much rotate around generally short workouts of varied functional movements and strength and agility training) which was…….interesting……..to say the least. Ego had me loading up the weights, puffing out my chest, and trying to keep up. It was a painful lesson to learn, as I left each session with arms fatigued to the point of resembling a T-Rex, and my technique being worthy of ridicule and bewilderment.

 

Slowly I came to the ultimate realisation that everyone was firmly focussed on their own workout,

and not the weird grunting man struggling with weights akin to light grocery shopping. With my ego set aside, Mitch began to mentor, and scale, and teach.

Eventually I got better. Not great mind you, but better. I also began to enjoy the break from the repetition of running.

 

I’ll admit the mind games started around then too. I asked myself daily, “What if everyone was right? What if I became unable to run again?”

 
 

 

But as is the case at times of mental-crossroad-bewilderment it is easy to regret taking ‘the road less travelled’. It can be too easy to slip into the mindset of the supreme pessimist. However, luckily the ultimate truth always comes; with the clarity of time and hindsight.

I began to supplement my daily gym class-workouts with easy runs, growing in increments, and with a supreme focus on comfort (mentally and physically). Leading up to the first ‘race’ of the season; the Twilight Running Festival 10km, I was supplementing the classes with 4am starts, and around 100-110km running weeks.

 

RESULTS:

The results initially were interesting. I began to ‘tone’ up, with muscles. My body stopped looking like a runners, and more like the ‘athletes’ that are sold to us in sporting advertisements. I was bumpy in all of the right places, and looked ‘strong’ instead of drawn out and lightweight.

My core strength and overall flexibility and strength improved at the gym also. By far I wasn’t the strongest at the gym (There are some AMAZING athletes there), but the difference in four months was light-and-shade in comparison. I was a better gym athlete.

But the true test was to see how this affected my running, with the first test being the Twilight Running Festival 10km event!

Approaching the race I found my nerves were worse than normal (I’m normally quite anxious before events). For the week leading up to the day, my anxiety built and built, until the day before; where they were practically crippling.

I can attribute this to nerves around the effects of the gym-training, the lack of regular speed sessions (to remind the mind that a fast pace is possible), and the fact that I have traditionally had a mixed history with this particular event (it is often rained out, I’ve had a start line calf injury, and a rather scary mid-race seizure!). I’ve never run ‘fast’ at Twilight, but it was an event that was always satisfying to podium at.

The weather this year was clear, if humid, and the afternoon start was warm, but not too overbearing. The conditions were the perfect testing ground.

When the start-gun went, I took off with a close friend (and team-mate) Drew Williams. From there a few runners pushed past. At around the 3 kilometre mark, I found myself working hard to stay in 5^th position.

Then a strange thing happened; with the same continued struggling effort, I pushed past 4^th, and then at the halfway mark, found myself in 3^rd place. I set about finishing strongly.

Whilst I didn’t end up catching Drew (the well-deserving winner) or second place, I did finish upright, in 3^rd place, and in a time within 10seconds of previous years. The effort during the race seemed to be harder than normal, but my stamina and ability to recover did significantly feel improved.

With the experiment not nearly completed, and without any substantially conclusive results…..at this stage it does appear that the supplementary gym workouts weren’t hindering my running performance.

I will continue to document this process, and will create additional posts accordingly.

Watch this space!

Oh, and enjoy your running!

 

Clay Dawson

intraining Sponsored Athlete and occasional gym junkie.

THE SECRET! How to LOSE ALL THE WEIGHT YOU WANT and get to that GOAL RACE WEIGHT….

This should be a short blog I’d imagine.

Ok, so here goes,

 

The real secret to losing all of the weight you want and getting down to that ‘ideal’ race weight, is to be absolutely fanatical, generally miserable, mostly self-loathing, and often un-necessarily measuring your body image up against other ‘more successful’ people. You may also need to harshly judge every calorie that enters your body, avoid many of the foods you enjoy, and develop anxiety at every social gathering, particularly when everyone else is drinking and eating freely and you're on the 'strictly only water and foods-that-taste-like-soggy-Lego-Diet'.  

Easy!

Or so it seems.

DISCLAIMER: Now before I get the objectors here saying that this is demonising healthy eating and smart training, whilst glamorising lazy eating habits and poor choices, this is a (mostly) fun blog that examines my own experiences on the fringe of the very elite running community here in Queensland, Australia. I am NOT a doctor, I’m an art teacher. I’m not pretending to be a doctor, nor do I have any qualifications to give advice or prescribe diets or drugs. I have no interests in checking prostates, however for the right amount of money (and with a decent waiver signed) I will have a shot at a select few surgical procedures (we probably won’t be friends after though!).

Short story; I am not an expert, this is just a blog. If you're currently checking the internet for medical advice this is your glowing red sign telling you to see a real qualified ACTUAL human. 

While I’m at it, probably avoid doing your banking online through African based financial institutions too…but that is a whole other blog, for a whole other time friends. 

The real story starts with me (as it does with most narcissists) and my own battles with the search for the perfect athlete’s body. 

(at the risk of giving away the ending) I’ve only recently begun to appreciate and enjoy my own body….at age 33! 

For all of my awkward teenage years I was shy and reserved, hiding behind a nervously pudgy body that was awkward and barely capable. I grew up in the age when the internet was beginning, the Backstreet Boys were redefining (read: brutally murdering) popular music, and the ‘ideal’ teenage boys body was scrutinised if it didn’t have Marky-mark’s (or Peter Andre’s if you will) chiselled abs or the thin and angular body of a moody grungy Nirvana-wannabe.

The market for dumpy, optimistic jokesters was about as minimal as the market for ‘weirdos that stand alone openly smelling their sandwiches in public’….aka non-existent.

I guess that’s where the focus on body image began for me.

Luckily, being so ‘gosh-darn-optimistic’ meant that I really wasn’t committed enough to give up my comfort food to embrace an eating disorder, so I settled into reluctantly hating the way I looked in cargo pants and (already quite painful) 90’s fashion choices.

It wasn’t until I began working out (almost incidentally) and running (for fun….really!) after Uni that I began to change things.

I guess this is the juncture where I thank my friends and family for NOT instilling a need to obsess over body image. Perhaps the pressures of society hadn’t intensified so much then, the internet was

mostly ‘dial-up’ (for those younger readers….that means; painfully slow and rather pointless…kind of like a road-trip to and antique clock-store). So mostly, we were left to our own devices, to innocently be kids, most of the time. Which was nice.

Eventually, though, I DID lose the weight, and I lost it by generally eating ‘nice’ foods (aka nothing with a cartoon animal on its packaging giving the thumbs up, and generally from shops and stores that you have to leave your car to get things from) and working out to a level that I enjoyed.

I wasn’t fanatical, but this was early days.

It was when I fit my first extra-small t-shirt that a 'hunger' was instilled in me (that's a really bad pun I know). I hadn’t even started running competitively, but I began finding myself anxious if I missed a day of working out, or I ate without carefully thinking. Somehow, I had gone from being on quite a casual adventure, to being stuck on a carnival ride, where the hill-billy teenager operating it had passed-out hours ago, his pig couldn’t reach the ‘stop’ button either.

And throughout all of this, the strange thing is that my opinion of my body was the same!

When I was a husky 120kgs I looked pudgy and bloated….and when I obsessively dropped into the mid 60kgs I was never as taut and defined as I wanted to be. The loose sections of skin had shrunk….kind of, but only to the point where they’re disguising the fit body underneath. I was no-more happier.

I remember running the 7km loop around my block with my arm in a cast, because I couldn’t take a day off….even with a fractured wrist! I wrapped the cast in a plastic shopping bag and ran with it uncomfortably aloft….like a student in a class with his question being constantly ignored by the teacher.

But then I found my running community, my Ipswich Triathlon Club, and eventually Intraining

Running and Triathlon Club and things levelled out a lot. I ran socially, and ran races. I learned to embrace the success I was having.

I trained smarter, and found that I could relax into my diet. I turned out to be pretty good at running too; worse than some, but better than most. I won races, often.

Eventually though, the competitive me built. I wondered how close I could get to those guys that I saw on TV, running so fluidly. To me they looked so thin, yet powerful; while I was bigger and chunkier. Perhaps if I streamlined my body, the excess weight I lost would translate to glory and success? Perhaps my face would be on the side of a cereal box that I (ironically) could never eat?!

So the wheels turned again, and I trained harder, and ate smaller, but the times remained the same. I stood at the start line with Olympians that were thinner and leaner, and (frustratingly) had to watch them drink beers and eat luxury foods at the post-race celebrations. It didn’t make any sense.

Eventually I began getting frustrated with the sport I loved.

And I wasn’t the only one. I saw guys just like me, who acted just like me. They deprived their bodies in secret, and trained harder, and harder….to the point of injury often.

At one instance I saw a good friend and accomplished runner tell a young (at the time 18) up-and-coming runner that he’d need to ‘drop some weight, to really see an improvement ‘. This young man was already thin and more than holding his own on an elite level. It was all well-meaning and never intended to offend or upset, but I still remember watching the information float from a mouth, through the air over to impregnate an impressionable mind.

I began hearing stories of young runners (male AND female) injuring themselves, forced away from running, struggling with diets and nutrition, uploading impossibly thin profile photos, and/or simply not running happily, or well. I saw magazine articles and fad diets come and athletes clamber for them like young girls to a floppy haired prepubescent heart-throb.

A cog finally turned in my mind. Something was wrong.

I began to look back at my own running. I looked at the photos (that I was too tight to purchase) from the races that I’d run. It turns out, and here’s the secret:

I ran the best when I was happy.

I looked strong, thin and fast when I was happy.

I was a nicer person when I ran happy.

What a revelation!

It turns out that millions of years of evolution (or a few thousand years of intelligent design…if that’s your caper) has equipped me with an amazing body that craves certain things only when I need them (like carbs, or proteins, or...dare I say it? Sugar!). It tells me when I’ve eaten too much (by feeling full or regretful when I’ve binged). It is an AMAZING machine that is capable of practically anything, but only when it has fuel.

If I couple my fuel intake with regular exercise (doing things I enjoy), it functions really well, it begins craving more of the ‘good foods’ and less (or rarely) the ‘bad foods’. 

And the best part?

We ALL have this same machine! So perhaps, if any of this blog has resonated with you, I recommend talking to someone, trying to look at your machine with fresh eyes, rewarding your exercise with fuel, or rewarding your fuel intake with a nice run. Learn the difference between training hard (and intelligently), and running dangerously on empty!

And try to find an excuse to smile. It’s true, our machines will depreciate in value as they age, they will likely be superseded by newer models, however if you treat them well, perhaps you will be left with a eye-turning classic.

And who amongst us, does not want to spend our twilight cruising along in a head-turning classic? I can’t think of a better way to take your mind of the bald patch on your head…but (again) that’s a whole other blog.

Run happy!

Til next time,

Clay Dawson

Intraining Sponsored Athlete and huge fan of his body! 

The FINAL Three Act Comedy and Tragedy of Marathon Running. PT3: The Sunshine Coast Marathon 2014

After two relatively successful marathons over two months and at this juncture, it made sense that my ego and the confidence in how to finally run a marathon properly would encourage me to accept the offer to run the Sunshine Coast Marathon and a third marathon in 3 months.

It didn’t matter to me that some quality runners had reportedly signed up. It wasn’t about podiums for me; it was about chasing that sub 2hr30min marathon and rounding out the most surreal year of running results that I’ve had  (modest for some, unthinkable for me). If a spot on the dais came too, that would only be icing.

So when I heard on the morning of the race that a Kenyan (ANDREW KIMANTHI) had just signed up, the only words that went through my head was the mantra I’d adopted since Gold Coast; “DON’T GO OUT WITH THE KENYANS”.  

I made my resolve.

Similar to Brisbane, my lead-up had been none-too-spectacular, with a few hard runs, not a lot of good form, and a lack-lustre 10mile (16km) race the Sunday prior.

True to my vow, when the gun went I shot off and ran smoothly and strongly. I ran so well in fact, that at it wasn’t until over 2kms into the race that ‘the kenyan’ caught me. I hadn’t just gone out with the Kenyan, I’d left him for dead! 

With my mantra in shreds, I knew it was going to be a tough day at the office now.

As Kimanthi swept past me he motioned for me to pace him on, showing much more confidence in my early ability as he should have! “No, I’m a 2:30 guy…too slow!” I managed to say, not sure if he’d get the message, regardless we gave each other a ‘thumbs up’ and he pushed on.

Some 5 more kilometers down the road the third place runner caught up as well, a very established

runner Stephen Dinneen caught up and ran with me. “How you going mate?” he asked, probably knowing what was in store for me. “Pretty good” I lied, “You push on mate!” I insisted, but to Stephen’s credit he hung back, offering to pace me. After a further 10kms together he let me know that his coach had strictly warned him to take this race easier. EASIER?!!! It hadn’t dawned on me just how ‘hard-core’ Stephen was, but I soon realised as we cruised headlong towards a half split that would see me sitting on course to break the 2hours 30min!

Of course the perfect ending to this story would involve the two of us stoically working together for the remaining hour and a half and crossing the line in glory.

This clearly didn’t happen, and whilst the Third Act of this story is hardly Shakespearean in scale of its tragedy, it did play out a little differently. First of all, Stephen ran on (reluctantly) not long after, the pace was way too slow for him, and I couldn’t promise that I wouldn’t fall apart and potentially DNF when the dreaded 30km ‘wall’ came. I wished him luck, and with Kimanthi we set about encouraging each other as we passed each other at each turn-a-round.

And, I slowed…..clearly the fatigue had finally set in, and the idea of running a sub 2hour 30min marathon faded very quickly. Suddenly the idea of holding onto 3^rd place was the only way I could manage to motivate myself to finish. I ran on, and on, and on, through gritted teeth and slumped across the line to my slowest marathon time of (2hours 39minutes and 16seconds) but also 3^rd place. Kimanthi and Stephen powered on to amazing times in their own regards (2:20 and 2:28 respectively) and I was stoked to see them and chat to them both post-race.

It was all done, and although I was sore in my clearly tired legs, I hadn’t fared too poorly.

Until a few days later, as I type this, with almost constant nausea, a quarantine-able outbreak of cold-sores, surging headaches and chronic tiredness. I guess sometimes we pay a price to the running gods for the ability to feel such amazing emotions, and my bill has been long over-due.

Needless to say, I am very firmly in recovery…..and the idea of running another marathon is at least a

few more months away.

Let’s just hope I’ve finally learnt my lesson, or that there are no Kenyan’s on the start line (Said in the nicest possible way, of course) to curry my clearly poor resolve.

Till then, keep running!...in moderation…and always with a smile!

Clay Dawson

InTraining Sponsored Athlete and Glutton for Punishment

(GALLERY BELOW)

The Three Act Comedy and Tragedy of Marathon Running. PT2: The Brisbane Marathon 2014

The funny thing about us human beings is that we’re stubborn, sadists who crave physical

punishment….

…Don’t agree? Look at the amount of women who have more than one child, and the amount of people who will pay money to pierce and tattoo themselves over, and over….

Then there are those of us who run marathons.

And no-one LOVES running marathons, they’re really, really hard. You spend the whole extended time period trying to maintain a pace that hovers between the fine line of safe physical exertion, and death, whilst negotiating inedible gels and plastic cups of water that are (frankly) nearly impossible to co-ordinate grabbing and drinking...and all of this while still dealing with the constant threat of muscle failure, dehydration, injury AND chafing.

How many of us have made THAT promise to ourselves mid-race?

You know THE promise?

“If you get me through this body, I PROMISE I WILL NEVER do this to you again!”

I have. 

I made that promise in the Blackmores Marathon in 2013, 

then again at the Hobart Marathon in 2014, 

then again at the Gold Coast Marathon in 2014…

...suffice to say my body is probably glad that it has eyes to roll (in disbelief).

Regardless, there is that rare occasion on a training run or, if you are especially lucky, in a race when everything goes so much to plan that you finish your race, sore and tired (because we’re stubborn, sadists who crave punishment remember?” ) but your soul and spirit are soaring and you find yourself high-fiving strangers! What a glorious feeling!!!!

The irony is, for all of the hours, days and years of training…..this feeling is unfairly and disproportionately limited and oh, so rare.

And so….in 2014 I ran the 2014 Brisbane Marathon…

ACT TWO: The Brisbane Marathon Festival

A few weeks later, and notably after a week of snowboarding to cool the severe burns to my ego, I was back and ready to shake it at the event I affectionately refer to as ‘Brisfest’.

I’ve had an awful amount of bad luck with this festival in the past, over the 10km (twice finishing outside of the podium, in disappointing times, in heat and with tears), then last year in the half marathon (where I finished a very humbled 4^th behind some quality runners) and with Gold Coast still fresh in my memory I consciously made a concerted effort to relax and not let my imagination get the better of me. I was going to run purely for fun….nothing else.

My lead up had been decent enough too, with a couple of reasonable 10km wins in the weeks preceding the race, but the times weren’t earth shattering, and I certainly wasn’t feeling like a thoroughbred.  

Alas, I approached the start line like a teenager approaches EVERYTHING, aka; with an almost reckless nonchalance and indifference.  A couple of close friends of mine were racing, and whilst my competitive streak would have normally eaten away my stomach with anxiety,  that morning, I stayed true to my promise to myself to ‘run for fun’.

 I can honestly say, I would have been on cloud nine to see ANY of them on the top of the podium and it was really cool to run and share a journey with pals.

So there I stood, totally cool, and promising myself; ‘I’ll give you the first km to do what you want, then after that, let’s see what it feels like to stay consistent, pick a pace and roll through!

Then something magic happened.

I did.

I ran firm, but not hard and hit more of those constant splits than normal, coasting along the race with a smile and enjoyment I’d never felt over 42kms before! And for this I was not only rewarded with a win, but a HUGE pb of 2hours30mins43seconds! My friends (Moritz and Scott) rounded out the podium, which made the day as perfect as could be.

Finally the curse of Brisfest for me had been broken! And whilst I didn’t reward myself with a trip to the snow in New Zealand, I did drag my wife, friends and parents into the ‘Eat Street markets’ to eat a mind-shattering amount of bad food in every second of the 'guilt-free post-marathon period'*.  

With such a race under my belt, I was offered the sweet deal of free accommodation and entry into the Sunshine Coast marathon (set to run a few weeks later)….With my ego at an all-time high, and the knowledge of how to run a solid marathon down, how could I refuse?

But then, things don’t always go as planned right?

(At least I have the photos to prove it! - see the gallery below! Also watch the event highlights video here - I feature - with my good mate Moritz from 1min30 - 1min51)

* FYI - The 'guilt free marathon period' is my idea of heaven, and the reason why the owners in the restaurants where I live have expensive yachts and children with nice teeth.

Till Act III (and beyond), thanks for reading! 

Have fun, stay running & smiling

Clay Dawson

Intraining Sponsored Athlete and proud member of the QLD Running Community

The Three Act Comedy and Tragedy of Marathon Running. PT1: The Gold Coast Marathon 2014

As I sit down to write this, I feel nauseous and tired with shivers throughout my whole body that I can neither attribute to being hot OR cold. As John Travolta would say; "I've got chills....they're multiplying".I’m also nursing a headache that I’ve had for over 48 hours now, and my legs and lower torso feel like they’ve gone through 12 rounds of Tyson’s best.

Without any professional medical advice, I know enough (from the college of common sense) that my body is massively fatigued. The worst part of it all is that this was my own doing….

….welcome to the simultaneous comedy and tragedy of marathon running.  

The general rule of thumb is that most runners should only ever attempt 2-3 marathons in a year, certainly no more, and especially when any of these are particularly tough/hard run races with pb’s as the end goal.

With this in mind attempting FIVE in the last SIX months, with THREE particularly hard ones within the last SEVEN weeks may have been an ambitious task, to say the least. And to many of my family members, friends, fellow runners, and rational thinking acquaintances the sheer thought of attempting this was almost enough to label me officially crazy for life. I know many have attempted similar (or even harder) physical challenges, but for me, ‘The Citizen Runner (I’ll get to that later!) it was a gargantuan undertaking.

I do have my reasons for attempting the unthinkable….and I will get to them….however, as with most stories, I must start at the beginning!

ACT 1: The Gold Coast Marathon

On the Australian Running calendar there are few races that hold the prestige of the mighty ‘GC Mara’. An institution of an event whose history goes back longer than I would care to research or fact-check. Regardless to give you a better idea; this year the race was officially granted IAAF Road Race Gold Status (the first Australian Marathon to achieve this).

Whether this is because the course is meticulously measured and keenly participated by the best national and international runners or the fact that the course is picturesque and generally has quite favourable weather remains to be said. Regardless the ‘GC’ is pretty much a staple marathon for any runner chasing glory, prestige, sought after finishers medals/shirts, or the fabled PB.

This year ‘Goldy’ was also the host event for the Queensland State Marathon Championships, as well as the Australian National Championships, AS WELL AS the Oceania Marathon Championships. With the temptation of the calibre of runners that this would attract and with the offer of free accommodation and the opportunity to wander around the race briefing with some of the fastest Kenyan, American and Japanese Marathoners simply pretending that I was in the same league as them was a cool enough reason for me to jump on board!

Plus….with half a year of solid prep-work under my belt, clearly this was my time to shine…

…Or not. Particularly, as I learned one of the most important marathon running rules that is possible to learn, this being;  

NEVER attempt to go out with the Kenyans.

Look up the footage online (it’s on youtube here - (skip to 25:20 to see me on the left - losing my mind!)). You’ll see a plucky young go-getter in an Intraining singlet mixing it quite well with the big

guns for….at least the first one and a half kilometres of the race! I even pushed on when they kicked away from me, still handsomely in the lead of the Oceania runners (and No.1 in Australia) until the 5km mark (at a handy time of 16min29sec). Just prior to this point three or four of the more favourable Oceania runners passed me, which was fine (and a little later than expected)….stupidly, these alarm bells still hadn’t sounded loudly enough for me to notice.

When the reigning Oceanic champion Rowan Walker passed me around the 6km mark with the encouraging words of “Hope you enjoyed your 5 minutes of fame”…..reality STILL hadn’t sunk in.

I felt FANTASTIC, and to show him, I made the resolve to gobble him back up and spit him out in the later portions. I barrelled on towards a half marathon split of 1hr 12min 42seconds completely eating up the applause of my spectating friends and fellow competitors, who were quite vocally blown away by my AMAZING first splits. 

At this point, I have to tell you; I was on cloud nine! I even remember fist-pumping and loudly ‘Whooping’ the crowd when I hit the turn-a-round.

This is, of course, the moment before the wheels fell off.

More specifically, they slowed, and even though the passion and my adrenaline was sky-high, the fatigue from a poorly ran first half began to take shape. My legs began slowing, and no amount of hydration, effort or silent prayer would encourage their deceleration to stop!

I was in a world of trouble, and as I hit the 30km mark, with a lazy 10km to go, I was officially in a world of hurt too! Almost to add insult to injury, the heat began to build at this point too, making the uncomfortable moment when the leading female runners powered effortlessly past me hurt even more, particularly as I knew many other fast runners would be on their heels!

How did the race end up? Long, and painful; short story. I managed to get to the line in 2 hours 32 minutes and 10 seconds, a mere 2 seconds off a PB. I’d somehow held onto 24th place overall, 6th place in Australia, 5th in my age group, and 2nd in Queensland. I'd won a state medal! Unfortunately in the process I'd wasted an opportunity to run a much better race. 

For the record, Rowan Walker (the guy who passed me earlier with those kind words) did go on to win, easily smashing me with the amazing time of 2 hours 21 min 47 seconds. The guy is amazing….I’ll always be in awe of him. If you’re reading this Rowan, next year I’ll learn from your lesson bro.

Next to come was a snowboarding holiday in New Zealand, then; the Brisbane Marathon – in a little over 4 weeks time! 

TO BE CONTINUED.....but until then, please enjoy my Gold Coast Photo Gallery Below: 

Keep running, and smiling! 

Clay Dawson

Intraining Sponsored Runner & Occasional Kenyan Marathon Pace runner*

*for 500mts.