Running Over

He was aware of a growing crowd, braving the wind to cheer them off. There was to be a lap of the park before they headed out to the road. It was hard to think that the next five hours, from a few minutes time up to mid-afternoon would be spent running continuously. No stops, no walking. At least that was the plan. Best not to think about it. Phil and he exchanged ‘good lucks’.

Two minutes to go. He checked his laces, and his watch. The last minute. This was it. They were under starters orders and the gun went off. Gradually he walked forward with the group, and then broke into a run. Checked the watch again as he crossed the ‘Start’ arch. Ten o’clock and thirty seconds. He settled into a comfortable pace. So this was it, his first marathon.

They were soon out of the park, still bunched. Phil was well ahead. The group turned left. This was the first hill, rising from the shoreline steeply up to the edge of the town, passing a bank, some shops and then a row of terraced houses. Steve dug in, grit his teeth, and kept going. This was tough to do so early and lasted so long. He subconsciously took in the contrast of grey brown colours of the houses against the blues and yellows of runners’ vests. Several runners overtook him, but he wasn’t concerned. Finally it flattened at the top and they passed the one mile marker. Around eight and a half minutes. He hadn’t enjoyed it, but so far so good. Time seemed OK, not too fast. It was important to leave plenty in reserve.

The long gradual descent into Longreach Bay was welcome, allowing him to settle and regain some ground on the others. They were buffeted with wind as they ran into the bay and he felt waves of cold. Perhaps the tee shirt would have been a good idea after all. It forced him to speed up. There was a long way to go, he couldn’t afford to be uncomfortable. Fortunately at four miles, the sun was trying to break through the clouds and brought some warmth. The field had spread and Steve was following two older men in blue, clearly veterans of the circuit. He noticed caravan parks and sand dunes on opposite sides of the road that seemed to stretch for miles. He passed the six mile marker at fifty two minutes, his face etched in concentration. This was a respectable 8.5 minutes per mile moving towards 9, and was almost 10K distance, but there were still twenty miles to go. Marathons were about the long haul and he was beginning to appreciate that. The body was no longer fresh and he took a drink at the upcoming water station, splashing some over his head and face.