The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner 🏅
There we were, stumbling around the Gold Coast in the dark at 5.30am, her mum, myself, and of course 'my little girl'. The fact that she's in her late twenties, married, and a successful career business women has nothing to do with the fact that she's still 'my little girl'. On any other day and in any other place, there is no such thing in my life as 5.30am. This is a purely fictional part of the day when dreams are still running their course, soon to be interrupted by the dawn chorus or, heaven forbid, the alarm on my iPhone. But on this special day we had, all three of us, been up, dressed, dusted off and foddered for about an hour already.
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Some two months previously I had a phone call in the car, on my way home from work in semi-tropical Brisbane, the best and most climatically amenable city in Australia, from 'my little girl' who is now based in Melbourne, one of the coldest / warmest / driest / wettest (not necessarily in that order) cities in Australia. This latter southern metropolis is where residents check the weather forecast several times each day for prior knowledge ahead of requisite wardrobe changes; and where, if you don't like the current weather, you only have to wait for a couple of hours for a climatic transformation. But I digress.
"Hi, dad. How's it goin'?" her voice booms out of the car radio speaker, courtesy of BlueTooth.
"Mark and I are coming up for the Gold Coast Marathon at the beginning of July." The Gold Coast is about an hour's drive from where her mum and I live on the south side of Brisbane. She continues, "It'd be good if we could all get together, and hey, how about you guys come and watch the race?"
No sooner said than agreed.
After all, that's what mums and dads are for isn't it? Lending support when our kids want to set goals and achieve things.
Both our kids were squad swimmers from an early age, when they weren't yet old enough to tell us where to stuff their swimming lessons. These are the same kids who we encouraged to do crazy things for many years, like chasing a barely visible black line on the bottom of a swimming pool for up to two hours each day, and going for the elusive PB (personal best), either at swimming club on a Friday night, or at inter-club carnivals every other weekend.
No surprise then that 'my little girl' has become a health and fitness fanatic and has found a soul mate who is similarly inclined. Mind you, the rest of our family, and husband Mark's family, are relatively normal, as it happens.
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So we eventually found the allotted area where she was to start her half marathon (21 kilometres of torture). Mark was still tucked up in bed, as he wouldn't start for another hour and 20 minutes, having signed up for the full marathon (42 kilometres long).
This weekend was not the time to remind either of them that Pheidippides, the first marathon runner back in 490 BC, actually dropped dead from exhaustion after completing his task of delivering news of the defeat of the Persians, halfway across Ancient Greece. No iPhones or BlueTooth back in those days!
After taking a few photos of 'my little girl' in a surprisingly calm and collected mood, her mum and I left her to become enveloped in a sea of competitors. There were only 9,889 entries for the half marathon, so the start was somewhat hectic to say the least. Most of them had to walk behind a seething mass of bodies before being able to advance to a gentle trot and then eventually launch into various forms of jog / run / sprint, depending upon whether they were fit, super fit or ridiculously fit.
All this was happening, remember, before 'sparrow's fart' and therefore before old man sunshine had risen above the sea, out there to the east. There was, however, an abundance of spotlights and streetlights, which minimised stumbles and set the runners on their way in a sea of semi-gloom, rather than them having to pick their way on each other's heals totally in pitch darkness.
Mum and I went for a walk and grabbed a coffee to warm up, as the sun rose and eventually basked us in its spreading glow, rays piercing through gaps in the clouds, before the horizon eventually radiated a bright orange luminescence to signify the start of another day's achievements.
It doesn't matter how many times I watch the sunrise, each one is unique and heralds the start of each day with optimism, before our mental gymnastics diffuse this into a myriad of mankind's earthly moods.
The finish line is a mass of grandstands, tents, press photographers and boisterous family members and friends, so we find a good pozzy (so much of Australian contemporary language is condensed and ends in 'y') about 200m from the finish line, where both mum and I can get a clear shot, me with my Canon and zoom lens, mum with her iPad.
We look for that familiar pink hat, so many runners go by, and then there she is - 'my little girl' - struggle written all over her face, but isn't she going well?
Mum and I fight our way through the throngs to find her beyond the finish line. Didn't she do so well? We all agree. She looks remarkably calm and recovered by the time we get to her. Proud mum and dad, but 'my little girl' is radiating pride in her own achievement.
Then we go through it all again a couple of hours later, when husband Mark comes in.
The things we do for our kids - the things they do to themselves - but there again, the things they can achieve!
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When not researching the weird or the wonderful, the comical or the cultured, the sinful or the serious, I chase my creative side, the results of which can be seen as selected photographs of my travels on my website at:
http://ken-boddie.squarespace.com
The author of the above, Ken Boddie, besides being a sometime poet and occasional writer, is an enthusiastic photographer, rarely leisure-travelling without his Canon, and loves to interact with other like-minded people with diverse interests.
Ken's three day work week (part time commitment) as a consulting engineer allows him to follow his photography interests, and to plan trips to an ever increasing list of countries and places of scenic beauty and cultural diversity.
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Comments
Joel Anderson
6 years ago #33
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #32
Count me in, Praveen. After all, grandad jokes are just grand, dad jokes. 🤗
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #31
Thanks for the shares, John. 👍
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #30
We aim to please, Debasih. Many thanks!
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #29
I'll accept your gracious compliment also, Deb. But just as well I don't rise early very often. If I allowed the philosophical to take over, then who would bombard the rest of you with all these bad dad jokes? Well perhaps I can think of one or two dad joke diehards, eh Praveen Raj Gullepalli?
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #28
I thought you would relate to this post, Lisa. Thanks for the compliments.
John White, MBA
7 years ago #27
Lisa Gallagher
7 years ago #26
Lisa Gallagher
7 years ago #25
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #24
They crawl with our help, then they walk by our sides, then they run to seek their own race. Enjoy your time together, Pascal Derrien.
Pascal Derrien
7 years ago #23
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #22
Welcome to beBee, Daria. 👍
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #21
Ha ha well done Donna-Luisa Eversley . But how does DL sound from now on?
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #20
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #19
thanks for the reminder, Nick. I must make time to dig it up and see it again. Also thanks for the share. 👍
Dean Owen
7 years ago #18
I suspect the DL is because we are having problems tagging Donna-Luisa, Federico \u00c1lvarez San Mart\u00edn
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #17
thanks for your kind words DL.
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #16
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #15
Thanks for your regular support, Gert Scholtz. 👍
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #14
Praise indeed from the Queen of beBee Poetry, Franci Eugenia Hoffman, and of new bBee-wordry. 👍
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #13
You spoil me as usual, Mamen Delgado. Thanks for the attention. 👍
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #12
Lucky 13 Julie! Thanks for your lovely words. 👍
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #11
Thanks, Dean-san. I wanted to get some comments from some of my favourite people before I send here a copy. 👍
Gert Scholtz
7 years ago #10
Mamen 🐝 Delgado
7 years ago #9
Dean Owen
7 years ago #8
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #7
Yes, Nick, but not sure if they all finished. Rumour has it that the search parties are still out there. 🔭
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #6
I'll have a look at your pics over the weekend, Kev. The only photos I publish are selected travel shots on my website, the link to which is provided at the bottom of all my posts, including this one. Off to bed soon so see you later alligator. 🐊
Kevin Pashuk
7 years ago #5
I became a Nikon guy when my sister gifted me with a $2,600 17-35mm F2.8 Nikkor lens. Once you commit to the glass, you commit to the camera. I've now upgraded the backside to a D7200 (serious amateur level) and have spent way too much money on more lenses. Do you have a Flickr (or other account)? Some of my shots are at www.flickr.com/photos/kwpashuk.
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #4
Don't be fooled by the Aussie slang, Nick. I am a man of many nationalities. 🕵
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #3
A Canon for me, a Canon for me, If it's no a Canon, it's nay use tae me, The Nikons are braw, the Pentax an a', But the cockie wee Canon's the pride o' them a'. 👍 - with apologies to "A Gordon for me".
Ken Boddie
7 years ago #2
A Canon for me
Kevin Pashuk
7 years ago #1