The green eyed monster v The thin blue line

When I tell you what I do you'll probably think it's a bit odd. Masochistic even. But I reckon you might do it too. In fact, I think we all do it. Not necessarily about the same thing. But I'm sure that we all do 'it' about 'something'.

Before I tell you what I do, I have to preface it by saying that I love running. Love it. This year I'm running 5 marathons - I just did Canberra. One down, four to go. I can't wait. It's a bit silly really.

So, without further ado, here's what I do ... 

If I'm driving along, or sitting in a cafe, or standing chatting to someone, and I see someone running along the street, or along the beachfront, I get all jealous. I get running envy. I want to be doing the running instead of whoever it is that I'm seeing doing it. I wish I was running with them ... or preferably in front of them!

I suffer from the green-eyed running monster.

The odd thing is that I feel the same even if I've only just been for a run myself. Even if I've just been for my long run on a Sunday morning. Later in the day I might be sitting in a coffee shop minding my own business and a runner will potter by ... and my own personal green-eyed monster will appear. I find myself wishing I was running instead of just sitting there enjoying my coffee.  

If you think this is a bit of an odd state of affairs it might be because you don't like running. That's cool. But if you surf or ski or snowboard or read, cook or take photos, or whatever your 'thing' is, and you spot someone else doing your 'thing' when you're not, I bet you get those little pangs of envy too. (It's good envy, by the way. It's not like coveting your next door neighbour's car - or wife - or anything. It's not real jealousy).

It's just the green-eyed monster giving you a gentle nudge.

Where it all began ...

I started running a fair few years ago now. Not seriously. 

I only started running seriously after the 'Blue Line Marathon'. It wasn't really called the 'Blue Line Marathon', but everyone knows it as that. The Blue Line Marathon was the Sydney marathon that was held to test the 2000 Olympic Marathon course. It started in North Sydney and it ended on the running track, across the actual finishing line, inside Sydney Olympic Stadium. (This was back in the days when 'it' was still called the Sydney Olympic Stadium. It's called ANZ Stadium now. Finishing a Marathon in ANZ Stadium doesn't sound half as romantic). It was called the blue line marathon because it famously followed a blue line on the road all the way. That thin blue line is still on Sydney's roads even today.

I ran the Blue Line Marathon ... and I finished.

But before we get all self-congratulatory and start reaching for bottles of expensive French bubbly, let me divulge two pieces of very critical information -

1. I didn't train for the Blue Line Marathon

2. I went out the night before the Blue Line Marathon

3. All night

I know that I said that there were two pieces of critical information, and I realise that I actually gave you three. I guessed that Critical Piece of Information No.2 was useless without you knowing Critical Piece of Information No.3.

I got in just after 4am. The marathon started at 6am sharp. Whoops!

I won't talk you through the race itself. I've spent almost every minute of every day since 2000 trying to forget every metre of that run.

I will say only this; as I approached Sydney Olympic Stadium I was so relieved ... that I began to cry.
They were actual, proper tears.

I wobbled into the tunnel that led through to the running track in the stadium and I stopped to stretch my legs. I couldn't actually feel my legs. I knew they were there cos I could see them through my tears. Whilst I was leaning against the wall of the tunnel - crying - and stretching two limbs that I could no longer feel, I could hear the crowd in the stadium cheering as people crossed the finish line. I had friends waiting for me in the stadium. It was my turn. My one moment of running glory had arrived. My one lap of real honour was just ahead of me. It was right there. In the Olympic Stadium. Just through the tunnel. I had 400meters left to run. 

I let go of the wall. And attempted to run.

No. Nope. Nothing. Nada. My legs - the ones I could see but couldn't feel - flatly refused to do what they were designed to do; move. They refused point blank. Refused. They were done for the day. I had run 41.795km of the required marathon distance of 42.195km. I had 400m to go, and my legs simply said, 'No. Enough is enough'. I was finished. Literally.

& then something truly remarkable happened ... a lady came jogging up to me. 

Right here, right now, I'll be brutally honest. She was a large lady. Very large. And she was decked out in the very latest lycra running gear with pink trim and bright white runners. The running gear looked like it had been bought just for the Blue Line Marathon. It certainly didn't look like it had been used much before the Blue Line Marathon. She hadn't trained. But then she probably hadn't been out til 4am that morning either. She stopped next to me in the tunnel, put her arm around my shoulders and said, 'C'mon, 400 meters to go. That's all. You can do it, mate'.

And then she let go of me.

She had to let go of me. She had no choice. 

She had a double-stroller to push. With two kids sitting in it. Two! Twins, by the looks of it. Aged about 2. She'd pushed them 41.795km. The three of them had just 400m to go.

And then she - they - were off into the Olympic Stadium. Pushing her double pram. She wasn't really running. It was more of a walk / run / shuffle type of thing. Whatever it was, it was a good deal more than I was doing. I wasn't running anywhere, I was just standing in the tunnel crying and pulling at my lifeless legs.

That was it. It was the very first time that my green-eyed monster appeared. All I wanted to do was run. And finish. Run Tipler run. It was pre-Picky. I was still a Tipler back then. Run Tipler, you muppet.

So I did.

Well, hang on. Not really. It felt like that's what I did, but reports from friends who witnessed those final 400-meters said that I wasn't really running. It was a mixture of running and hobbling. I was robbling. But I did finish my first ever marathon. In exactly 5 hours. And just behind the large lady with the double pram and the twins. I had tried to catch her up the back straight and then again down the final straight. I wanted to say thanks. But more than that I wanted to beat her. Them. My green eyed monster was out.

But I didn't. I couldn't. She was 'walk / run /shuffling' and every first time marathon runner needs to be aware of this simple marathon running fact; walk / run / shuffling' is always a whole heap faster than 'robbling'.

Pip pip

Today's post is dedicated to Hayley (running The Gold Coast Marathon on June 30th. Her first) and all other 42.2km first-timers. Hat's off to ya. Enjoy every single step along your real, or imagined, thin blue line.