I try to keep my promises as much as I can, so here’s the nondescript account of my experience of the Dunedin Half Marathon 2022.
The run started at 9.00 am, which meant I woke up without an alarm, near 5.10 am. We’re off to a great start already.
Let’s back up a little shall we? My wife, UMC1 and UMC2 travelled down to Dunedin with me on the Friday, so we could stay for the whole weekend. I’d been saving for a few months for the trip, because we had some child-friendly activities we had planned to do around Dunedin; especially visiting the museum. We are a family of nerds/geeks after all.
We stayed at a hotel, and I’ll be honest; no matter the different places we went to, or the different things that we did with UMC1 and UMC2, the highlight of the trip for them, was the hotel room. We don’t have a television at home, so watching Saturday morning cartoons, was unreal for them; particularly using the remote control. It took both of us to convince them to actually leave the hotel room, because they were having so much fun.
Anyway, after picking up the race pack, and making our plans for Sunday morning, it was time for me to start slowly getting anxious. What a winner.
Like I said at the start, I woke up at 5.10 am on Sunday morning, because we were all sleeping in the same room. I could only listen to UMC1 and UMC2 argue in their sleep for only so long, before I had to get up. Reading news articles and watching video clips about Queen Elizabeth II’s death, at the time seemed like a good idea, like an ejection seat in a helicopter.
After reading and watching an avalanche of information about the Queen, I knew I needed breakfast, however this is a riddle I have never been able to solve. It comes in two parts: what do you eat before a race? and when should you actually eat? I’ll be damned if I know.
Being a very amateur runner, I decided on cereal, toast and yoghurt, because…well, we didn’t have anything else in the unit. After eating, getting changed and packing my bag, I needed to wake everybody else up and the results were not pretty.
After my wife dropped me off near Forsyth Barr Stadium, I followed the stream of positive and intelligent people, that were deliberately going to put themselves through hours of pain. Caledonian Ground was the destination, and after arriving there, things just got real.
There was a sea of people in and around the ground, so I decided to perform my token stretches on the rugby field next door. After embarrassing myself by smothering my legs with vaseline to avoid chafing, I wandered over to the starting line.
As I walked past the elite runners at the front and headed towards the back, I started noticing people. They were ready and I was woefully not ready. The realisation that I was ill prepared for the run, was a horrible thing. A bad diet and a somewhat lack of training is never a great combination; like vodka and swimming.
There was a guy vaping, while he was waiting near me, which did a lot to build my confidence. Oh, I’m sorry, did I say build? What I meant to say was destroy! And before you could say, “Pachycephalosaurus were crazy looking bipedal herbivore dinosaurs”, the race had started.
We headed out towards the industrial area, while trying not to crash into anybody. From there, it was along the water front and out towards the peninsula. And this is where it got weird for me.
I remember passing the 5 km mark, because it was the turning point for the 10 km runners; but from then on, I didn’t see another distance marker until the 18 km mark. It was weird to be actively participating in an distorted example of the Uncertainty principle. I knew how much time had passed, but not my location.
After finally reaching the turning point for the race, I started remembering and listening to my body. I remember my brain convincing my heart, legs, stomach, and everything else, that running in this race was a great idea. On the way back, my brain had absolved itself of any involvement in the decision making process, and was trying to force a confession from some other body part, blaming them for the decision to run. My body was not happy with itself.
On the way back, something very predictable happened; young and older runners started passing me. I found that experience to be soul crushing, especially when I’m running as fast as I can! Eventually I saw the 18 km mark and I realised that my dream time was not going to be achieved. So being the winner that I am, I slipped down to aim for my second dream time.
Running towards the finish line, which was actually a pub, did not have the desired impact for me; I just wanted it to be over. I crossed the line and even though I didn’t get the time that I wanted, I got the time that I needed. I shaved nine minutes off my previous time, though I sound like such a loser, it’s hilarious!
Anyway, the run was not the total disaster I thought it would be, I could even do squats the next day, which was a minor miracle. I showed UMC2 my finisher’s medal and he said it was stupid, because it had no yellow on it. Cheers mate, thanks for the support.
I have another race in a fortnight, but this one is actually local. This means hundreds of people in the community will get to see me fail. I’m a D-List celebrity, so I’m looking forward to people telling me that I suck. Can’t wait.
So that’s it. I’m back to running half marathons, by starting with energy and hope, and ending with despair and misery. Cool. House of the Dragon is now up, so I need to study some more fictional royal family trees. Thanks for reading, walk your dog, read some banned books and I’ll see you next week.
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