In 490BC, the pesky Persians were on the march to Athens. A victory over the undermanned Greek outfit would have meant that the Persians could have laid claim to all of the Greek Peninsula. As they reached the plains of Marathon, an area some 26 miles from Athens (42.125 kms), they were met by what was basically the last of the Greek army after they had already been on the receiving end of several losses to the Persians in the proceeding three years. This time however, the Greeks had the advantage of being on familiar ground. After blocking off all the exits, they moved in for the kill and destroyed the Persians once and for all.
Wanting to spread the good word as soon as possible, the Greek generals sent a young man named Pheidippides to run back to Athens to spread news of the victory. On arrival he screamed, “We have won!” to whoever would listen and then promptly collapsed and died. And so was born the Marathon.
On February 8, 2009, some 8700 people lined up in the in Nathan Road, Kowloon at the start of Hong Kong Marathon. I was one of those.
At 7:00am my chief support staffer and I headed off from our Happy Valley abode for the train station in Causeway Bay. I felt good. I had no injuries, and felt I had carbed up pretty well the night before with a full slab of baby-back ribs and two pints of Stella Artois from the Jaspas near our place.
As we walked to the station, I noticed a number of other tracksuit clad persons obviously on their way to the race also. When I noticed on chap who happened to be in my age bracket, I asked my support staffer, “Who looks fitter, me or that guy?”
To which she replied, “Actually, he does look in pretty good shape.”
“Well, what about that guy?”
“He looks like he might have done a little bit more training.”
This conversation went on for the next nine obvious marathon runners on the train, until eventually I had to be told, “Sweetie, to be honest, they all look fitter than you.”
It was at that point that it hit me that there was a real possibility that I could well be the very last person to finish this event. I had visions of one lonely cleaner sweeping up the last of the day's trash and I come plodding in after 9 hours or so.
Once we got to the starting area though and I started my warm up, I felt a little better. Surely I could beat some of these people I thought.
On the way to the starting line I was feeling good. I had preloaded a playlist on my ipod that would go for 5 hours. As we headed off, I started with the Matthew Sweet song “Girlfriend”, closely followed by “Rock ‘n Roll Train”, by AC/DC. That pretty much set the musical tone for the first hour.
During this hour, we hardly got moving. The race was so crowded that we had traveled more than 5kms before I really felt I was running and not just along shuffling behind a huge mass of people.
Once we got going around, from 10kms to 20 kms I changed the listening selection and listened to a podcast of Sports Today, the afternoon sports talkback radio show on Melbourne’s 3AW station. After that I went straight into a podcast of The BS Report, featuring an interview by Bill Simmons with Jon Hamm who plays Don Draper in the series Madmen. If you are not familiar with Madmen, do yourself a favor. If The Sopranos was the best show on TV, then this show, about advertising execs on Madison Avenue in the 1960’s, has taken over the title. Well worth buying the DVD’s and watching the whole thing.
After the BS Report, I went back to AC/DC’s new Black Ice album to bring me home. Whole playing time, 5:12. If I was not home by the time the opening chords to "Big Jack", I knew I was in trouble. Or hospital.
The race itself panned out like this:
0 – 10 kms Feeling pretty good. A few slight niggles, but holding it all together.
10-20 kms Still feeling OK. I could feel a little wear and tear emerging in the left and right groin region, but holding a good pace.
21kms Half way and my first goal achieved – Now every step to the end would be one less than one I had already taken.
21 – 30 kms Starting to feel a little full in the legs, but I was actually confident for the first time that I would make it. I crossed the 30km mark at 3hrs and 2 minutes and I was very pleased with that. I started to think ahead to the end. If I just kept this up, I could break 4:15. That would be fantastic.
31kms I’m gone. My legs are shot. I have hit the wall and my legs feel like they are solid rods, which cannot bend at the knees. My run has become a shuffle and people are starting to pass me.
31 – 40kms I had to walk for about 300m up a steep hill to get out of the Harbour Tunnel. Unfortunately, it hurt so much to get started again, that I decided I simply could not stop to walk again. So I shuffled on. Slowly. I'm not sure if this guy actually passed me, but I'm guessing he probably did.
40 – 42.135km The last part of the race is through the streets of Causeway Bay and the streets were lined with people cheering. At least I think they were. I could hear them, but I was so focused on a small patch of bitumen about 2 feet in front of every step I took, I could not appreciate the moment. As I entered Victoria Park and the final 50 meters, my legs were like stone. Every step felt as if I was about to snap with a cramp. I willed myself to go faster, but I just couldn’t break the shuffle stride. Look at the video clip. I am going as fast as I possibly can. While I am very pleased to be a marathon finisher, as I watch that clip I can’t help but be disappointed as I watch all those people go past me. But…. once your legs are gone, they’re gone.
So it’s a week later now and I can reflect on the race. People keep asking me if I’ll do it again next year. All week I have been saying no way, but now that I’m moving freely again, I’m having second thoughts. If I just get some more miles in the legs, maybe I can leave the Cliff Young shuffle behind and finish the race properly.
After all, after Pheidippides finished his marathon, he laid down and died. All I had was a couple of sore legs…….. and pants.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
Marathon Finish.... It's all about miles in the legs
My fitness was good, but from about the 35km mark my legs were gone. Every step felt like was about to cramp in both calves. I did manage to finish though.
Tick off running a marathon. It's done.
Full report to come......
Tick off running a marathon. It's done.
Full report to come......
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
The Marathon...... 5 Days Out
With the big race just a few days away, its all about tapering to be in tip top condition for Sunday. I went along to the Happy Valley tonight with three things on my mind. Win a bucketload of cash; start loading on the carbohydrates and start to get the liquids in........ Things are looking just great for Sunday.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
The Marathon...... One week out
I’ve always had it in my head that some day I would run a marathon. I’m not sure why I have thought this. I don’t enjoy running. I’m not a very good runner and when I do run it’s just a slow clump without much grace or speed. Having said that I don’t enjoy running, at various times I have been a regular runner. Usually this has coincided with my pants becoming tighter and my breath becoming shorter as I attempt to walk up any more than about 4 stairs.
I have always had an issue with keeping my weight where I would like it to be. After years of thinking about this, I believe that I have finally pinpointed the problem and it looks something like this. And this.
Even with these two delicious and yet evil calorie collectors, I have managed to stay somewhat where I want to be. That is, less than 95kgs (210 pounds). Unfortunately, since I moved to Hong Kong in 2006, I have let myself slip a little. On October 25, 2008, I stood on the scale and weighed in at 104kgs (229 pounds). Which is actually the weight Mike Tyson was in his last fight against Kevin McBride in 2005. Although I’m not sure my slide up the weight scale has been quite at dramatic as Iron Mike’s when you look at Tyson in the ring and Tyson after perhaps a few too many burger rings.
As I stepped from the scale that day in October I knew I had to do something. Plus, I knew that I was turning 40 in March and I wanted to do something ‘amazing’ before then. As fate would have it, on that very same day I saw an article in the South China Morning Post about the Hong Kong Marathon to be held in February 2009. Well, it didn’t take me long to put two and two together and come up with 42.5 kms. So as soon as the online registration came up in November, I signed up.
The next step was to get a program to follow. After a little searching around on my friend the internet, I found a beginners program designed to just get you to the finish line of the marathon course. It was an 18-week program and I’m pleased to say that I have managed to follow it pretty closely. I have my doubts about the program though because I feel no where near ready for a run that I estimate will take around 4.5 hours. But….. I am ready to give it a go.
On Saturday I went down to Victoria Park in Causeway Bay and picked up my race kit. Which consisted of a magazine, a t-shirt and a finisher’s medal. The magazine would be great, if I read Chinese. The t-shirt (XL size) was not really designed with the chunkier western man in mind and the fact I now have a finisher’s medal is a little ambitious at this stage. Still, it was a very well run operation and the collection took no time at all. I hold high hopes for the organization of the run……ie: plenty of food and drink stations.
As for the run itself, it travels out from Kowloon to Lantau Island and then back on to Hong Kong Island via the Harbour Tunnel, finally finishing in Causeway Bay. Officially, I am entered into the Masters 1 category. That is, between 35 – and 45 years old in my first or second marathon. I am thinking though that I should be in class of my own, Masters 5 (6 foot western guys weighing in at over 100kgs). After taking a look at this picture from last year’s event, I reckon I have a pretty good chance of doing well in my section.
Speaking of master’s athletes, I think the lady in the middle of the field for this prestigious running event is probably hoping that experience rather than youth will get her through.
So that’s it. The race is next Sunday and I hope that I am position next week to call myself a marathon finisher. After all, I already have the medal.
I have always had an issue with keeping my weight where I would like it to be. After years of thinking about this, I believe that I have finally pinpointed the problem and it looks something like this. And this.
Even with these two delicious and yet evil calorie collectors, I have managed to stay somewhat where I want to be. That is, less than 95kgs (210 pounds). Unfortunately, since I moved to Hong Kong in 2006, I have let myself slip a little. On October 25, 2008, I stood on the scale and weighed in at 104kgs (229 pounds). Which is actually the weight Mike Tyson was in his last fight against Kevin McBride in 2005. Although I’m not sure my slide up the weight scale has been quite at dramatic as Iron Mike’s when you look at Tyson in the ring and Tyson after perhaps a few too many burger rings.
As I stepped from the scale that day in October I knew I had to do something. Plus, I knew that I was turning 40 in March and I wanted to do something ‘amazing’ before then. As fate would have it, on that very same day I saw an article in the South China Morning Post about the Hong Kong Marathon to be held in February 2009. Well, it didn’t take me long to put two and two together and come up with 42.5 kms. So as soon as the online registration came up in November, I signed up.
The next step was to get a program to follow. After a little searching around on my friend the internet, I found a beginners program designed to just get you to the finish line of the marathon course. It was an 18-week program and I’m pleased to say that I have managed to follow it pretty closely. I have my doubts about the program though because I feel no where near ready for a run that I estimate will take around 4.5 hours. But….. I am ready to give it a go.
On Saturday I went down to Victoria Park in Causeway Bay and picked up my race kit. Which consisted of a magazine, a t-shirt and a finisher’s medal. The magazine would be great, if I read Chinese. The t-shirt (XL size) was not really designed with the chunkier western man in mind and the fact I now have a finisher’s medal is a little ambitious at this stage. Still, it was a very well run operation and the collection took no time at all. I hold high hopes for the organization of the run……ie: plenty of food and drink stations.
As for the run itself, it travels out from Kowloon to Lantau Island and then back on to Hong Kong Island via the Harbour Tunnel, finally finishing in Causeway Bay. Officially, I am entered into the Masters 1 category. That is, between 35 – and 45 years old in my first or second marathon. I am thinking though that I should be in class of my own, Masters 5 (6 foot western guys weighing in at over 100kgs). After taking a look at this picture from last year’s event, I reckon I have a pretty good chance of doing well in my section.
Speaking of master’s athletes, I think the lady in the middle of the field for this prestigious running event is probably hoping that experience rather than youth will get her through.
So that’s it. The race is next Sunday and I hope that I am position next week to call myself a marathon finisher. After all, I already have the medal.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Boom Goes the Dynamite
All you have to do is look straight into the teleprompter and read the sports news. Should be easy right? Well it would be until you realize you are broadcasting live on a college TV station, the teleprompter breaks and the your notes are out of order......... I feel for this guy.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Lance Armstrong
There are some things that I just see in black and white.
For example:
Lance Armstrong = Arrogant prick
As Bob said though, the times they are a changin' and I'm happy to admit I'm warming to the guy.
Between 1999 and 2006 I was living in Taipei, Taiwan, teaching at an international school. I loved Taipei. The culture was so different from home, the food was fantastic, I had a great job and I worked with some very cool people. One of the coolest of these was a Bill from Maine. Besides being a truly great guy, Billy is a cycling nut. He just loves it. In fact I think the only thing he loves more than riding himself is to get others to go riding too and enjoy his passion.
When I arrived in Taipei, the last time I ridden a bike I had homework in my backpack. My homework……from my 12th grade English teacher. I’d transport that homework home every day and then transport it back the next day have not opened the bag once overnight. Which of course meant two things: Demerits for incomplete homework and a three ring binder that smelled of sweaty three day old PE shorts and socks.
What the hell were we doing studying DH Lawrence’s Sons and Lovers anyway? Perhaps if we had read Lady Chatterley's Lover at least i would have finished it.
Within a few days of arriving in this Taipei, Billy had taken me down to the local Giant bike shop and I purchased a brand new Katarga hybrid mountain/road bike. Billy tried to convince me of the need for the lycra gear too, but at that stage I was not ready to make the commitment. While I understood that the skin tight stuff would make me more aerodynamic and would be cooler and ultimately more comfortable, I was more concerned that I’d end up looking like this guy.
The city of Taipei is basically in a bowl sounded by a series of medium sized mountains. These geographical features are wonderful for keeping a dirty brown layer of smog city just above the city, but not so wonderful for going for a bike ride to get ‘out of the city’. Getting out of the city meant going up. And up. And up.
I recall my first ride. It was August in Taipei, which meant 35 degrees (95f) and 100% percent humidity. There were a bunch of us and Billy said we’d take it slow. I was good for the first 10 minutes, then we started to climb. After 20 more minutes I could hardly breathe. Then my whole body stated to shake. Then I saw black dots in front of my eyes. Then I couldn’t see anything at all. All I could do was get off and drag my bike to the side of the road and lay down. I felt good for about 24 seconds. Then I had to vomit. I was too tired to move so the best I could do was roll myself into the first aid safety position and let it drain out of me. I was totally shattered. Knowing that someone would drop back looking for me though, I knew I couldn’t stay where I was. I didn’t want any of my new pals to think I was weak, so I got back on the bike, rode for exactly three more feet and fell off onto the road. Luckily there was very little traffic on some of these mountain roads, so I just laid there for a while until the realized the hot bitumen was actually burning my skin. So once again I dragged myself up and back onto the bike and just as I was taking my first pedal, Billy comes spinning around the corner, coming back looking for me. I didn’t mention the previous thee minutes, but I didn’t manage to get out that I had enough and was turning back.
Turning back was always wonderful. As I became a better rider, I could ride for two hours or so basically up hill all the way. When it was time to head home though, it was a 15 minutes straight shot to my front door. Followed by a 3-hour snooze on the couch. And perhaps some KFC as a reward for all my hard work. (These days of course, I reward myself with 4 pieces of the Colonel’s original for the ‘hard work’ not making a mess in the kitchen trying to cook something.)
But I digress. My point is that I got into cycling for a while and became a fan of some of the big pro events like the Giro d'Italia and of course the Tour de France. Billy was a huge Lance Armstrong fan; to the point where he would wear the same US Postal Service cycling outfit as his hero. I must admit I always found this a little weird. Kind of like a kid with their favorite footy player’s number on the back of their team jumper, but he liked it so good luck to him. Me on the other hand, once I was a full member of the cycling cult, and had succumbed to the need for lycra, wore black shorts and a plain black top. No slogans, no advertising, no color, just plain black. Cool… focused…. Non attention seeking ….. and if I’d read my women’s magazines correctly, black is the most slimming color. I must admit, while Billy was correct about coolness and comfort, I did always find the lycra gear a little snug in certain areas. I was actually thinking about this as I was watching the Cardinals V Eagles playoff game on Monday and those big, big linemen were walking around in skin tight gear. I didn’t see anyone quite like this guy though.
Anyway, as Billy was such a huge Lance fan, obviously I couldn’t be. As an Australian I had to find a point of difference to make fun off at his expense. Of course this was a little hard to do when his guy actually won every year.
To try and show me the light, Billy lent me a copy of the Armstrong book “It’s Not About The Bike”. After reading the book I was left with three thoughts. 1. What a great story. 2. What a courageous and talented fellow. 3. What an arrogant prick.
Now though, I am slowly changing my view. Since his retirement, I have great respect for the commitment he has made to help raise money for the fight to cure cancer. It reminds me a little of former Victorian premier Jeff Kennett. A man I could not stand as Premier and rejoiced over when he was booted out of government, but who has won respect as he has since go on to promote and work with the beyondblue organization for finding better ways to deal with depression.
And now that Lance is back on the bike, well I have to say, I’m right behind him. I’m following him in the Tour Down Under and I will throughout this season, and for however long he stays in the peloton.
So now I would have to say:
Lance Armstrong = Probably still an arrogant prick, but one who is putting his reputation and legacy on the line for a cause. Big respect.
For example:
Lance Armstrong = Arrogant prick
As Bob said though, the times they are a changin' and I'm happy to admit I'm warming to the guy.
Between 1999 and 2006 I was living in Taipei, Taiwan, teaching at an international school. I loved Taipei. The culture was so different from home, the food was fantastic, I had a great job and I worked with some very cool people. One of the coolest of these was a Bill from Maine. Besides being a truly great guy, Billy is a cycling nut. He just loves it. In fact I think the only thing he loves more than riding himself is to get others to go riding too and enjoy his passion.
When I arrived in Taipei, the last time I ridden a bike I had homework in my backpack. My homework……from my 12th grade English teacher. I’d transport that homework home every day and then transport it back the next day have not opened the bag once overnight. Which of course meant two things: Demerits for incomplete homework and a three ring binder that smelled of sweaty three day old PE shorts and socks.
What the hell were we doing studying DH Lawrence’s Sons and Lovers anyway? Perhaps if we had read Lady Chatterley's Lover at least i would have finished it.
Within a few days of arriving in this Taipei, Billy had taken me down to the local Giant bike shop and I purchased a brand new Katarga hybrid mountain/road bike. Billy tried to convince me of the need for the lycra gear too, but at that stage I was not ready to make the commitment. While I understood that the skin tight stuff would make me more aerodynamic and would be cooler and ultimately more comfortable, I was more concerned that I’d end up looking like this guy.
The city of Taipei is basically in a bowl sounded by a series of medium sized mountains. These geographical features are wonderful for keeping a dirty brown layer of smog city just above the city, but not so wonderful for going for a bike ride to get ‘out of the city’. Getting out of the city meant going up. And up. And up.
I recall my first ride. It was August in Taipei, which meant 35 degrees (95f) and 100% percent humidity. There were a bunch of us and Billy said we’d take it slow. I was good for the first 10 minutes, then we started to climb. After 20 more minutes I could hardly breathe. Then my whole body stated to shake. Then I saw black dots in front of my eyes. Then I couldn’t see anything at all. All I could do was get off and drag my bike to the side of the road and lay down. I felt good for about 24 seconds. Then I had to vomit. I was too tired to move so the best I could do was roll myself into the first aid safety position and let it drain out of me. I was totally shattered. Knowing that someone would drop back looking for me though, I knew I couldn’t stay where I was. I didn’t want any of my new pals to think I was weak, so I got back on the bike, rode for exactly three more feet and fell off onto the road. Luckily there was very little traffic on some of these mountain roads, so I just laid there for a while until the realized the hot bitumen was actually burning my skin. So once again I dragged myself up and back onto the bike and just as I was taking my first pedal, Billy comes spinning around the corner, coming back looking for me. I didn’t mention the previous thee minutes, but I didn’t manage to get out that I had enough and was turning back.
Turning back was always wonderful. As I became a better rider, I could ride for two hours or so basically up hill all the way. When it was time to head home though, it was a 15 minutes straight shot to my front door. Followed by a 3-hour snooze on the couch. And perhaps some KFC as a reward for all my hard work. (These days of course, I reward myself with 4 pieces of the Colonel’s original for the ‘hard work’ not making a mess in the kitchen trying to cook something.)
But I digress. My point is that I got into cycling for a while and became a fan of some of the big pro events like the Giro d'Italia and of course the Tour de France. Billy was a huge Lance Armstrong fan; to the point where he would wear the same US Postal Service cycling outfit as his hero. I must admit I always found this a little weird. Kind of like a kid with their favorite footy player’s number on the back of their team jumper, but he liked it so good luck to him. Me on the other hand, once I was a full member of the cycling cult, and had succumbed to the need for lycra, wore black shorts and a plain black top. No slogans, no advertising, no color, just plain black. Cool… focused…. Non attention seeking ….. and if I’d read my women’s magazines correctly, black is the most slimming color. I must admit, while Billy was correct about coolness and comfort, I did always find the lycra gear a little snug in certain areas. I was actually thinking about this as I was watching the Cardinals V Eagles playoff game on Monday and those big, big linemen were walking around in skin tight gear. I didn’t see anyone quite like this guy though.
Anyway, as Billy was such a huge Lance fan, obviously I couldn’t be. As an Australian I had to find a point of difference to make fun off at his expense. Of course this was a little hard to do when his guy actually won every year.
To try and show me the light, Billy lent me a copy of the Armstrong book “It’s Not About The Bike”. After reading the book I was left with three thoughts. 1. What a great story. 2. What a courageous and talented fellow. 3. What an arrogant prick.
Now though, I am slowly changing my view. Since his retirement, I have great respect for the commitment he has made to help raise money for the fight to cure cancer. It reminds me a little of former Victorian premier Jeff Kennett. A man I could not stand as Premier and rejoiced over when he was booted out of government, but who has won respect as he has since go on to promote and work with the beyondblue organization for finding better ways to deal with depression.
And now that Lance is back on the bike, well I have to say, I’m right behind him. I’m following him in the Tour Down Under and I will throughout this season, and for however long he stays in the peloton.
So now I would have to say:
Lance Armstrong = Probably still an arrogant prick, but one who is putting his reputation and legacy on the line for a cause. Big respect.
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