The Long Haul

A few times in my brief running career, I've really crashed and burned in a big event. The last time was the Run Melbourne half-marathon at the end of June. I was hoping I might get close to 1 hour and 30 minutes (my best time so far being 1:32:45), so I found the pacing person for 1:30 before the race. I stuck with him for 4-5 km, but he was going quite a bit faster than the nominal pace, so I dropped back. At the half-way mark I was just under 45 minutes. But at about 16 km I started to develop a stitch on my right side, and I couldn't shake it. So, as has happened to me before, I ran on, half bent over at times, and finished in about 1:38. Looking back, my problem was that I went out too fast at the start, and it's a mistake I've made on a few other occasions (most memorably during the Ocean Road Marathon in 2007 when I developed a stitch at about 5km, and had to run with it for 40km - though it was still my best time). My experience of ultra-marathon events (the 100km Oxfam Trailwalker in 2008) has been that you have to start much slower than you feel you can run, so that you can last the distance.

Back in the present, I think the boys and I are all starting to 'hit the wall' emotionally. All the changes to our lives since Jen died have the feeling of a temporary coping pattern, just as during Jen's illness, or during her critical phase with rheumatoid arthritis -- daily life is rearranged, people step in to help, but you know that one day it will go back to normal. Unfortunately this now is normal. Secundus is starting to resent other people picking him up after school, and there's an underlying frustration and anger with life that flares up quite often. Between work and home, I'm going at a ridiculous pace, and sleeping about five hours a night.

Although it seems as though we're just trying to make it to the next checkpoint - the weekend, or the end of the year - we also need to find a sustainable way to live. Life without Jen will be a long haul for us as a family, an ultra-marathon of a different kind. We need to set our pace with that aim in mind. I don't yet know what shape that will take.

After my crash-and-burn in the June half-marathon, I had a sense of wasted effort -- all that training without getting any closer to my 1:30 goal. But in the aftermath of Jen's death I saw it differently. For that race (as for any long race) I ran several hundred kilometers in training (30-50 km a week for 10-12 weeks). That training is good for my long-term health and fitness, and is in the end a lot more valuable than the time on the day. Without Jen here, I am committed to live as long as reasonably possible so the boys still have a surviving parent. One of the simple actions I can take is to stay healthy, and for me running is a key strategy to achieve that goal. I'll still run the odd event to motivate myself to train, but it won't be the main focus any longer.