My Marathon History - by Peter ClonanMy Marathon History - by Peter Clonan
Click here to go to the 1987 Marathon story (or scroll down).
Click here to go to the 1988 Half Marathon (or scroll down).
Click here to go to the 1989 Marathon story (or scroll down).
Click here to go to the 1990 Marathon story (or scroll down)
Click here to go to the 1991 Marathon story (or scroll down)
Click here to go to the 1992 Marathon story (or scroll down)
Shortly after our arrival, my mate Phillip Dickinson arrives here, having been to church with his parents who are in Surfers Paradise on their annual holidays. They are from Numurkah, my original home town. We meet Phillips friends Judy, an American Rotary exchange student and Dieter, a German guy, in Australia on a working holiday. Phillip, Dieter and I will be running the Marathon in less than 12 hours time.
It's time for tea and Carbo-Loading. We check out a few Italian restaurants nearby but there are no spare tables. We settle on an Italian Pizzeria, no vacant tables again so we make our purchases and take our meal back to the Motel. My Pizza is lovely, very filling and Phillip delves into his Lasagna and Dieter thoroughly enjoys his spaghetti. Will all this carbohydrate food carry us through the 42.2 kilometres ? We hope so! The three girls are to share a room upstairs and us three guys share the downstairs one, because we are rising at 4.30am. The girls and Dieter are anxious to go to Jupiters Casino to try their luck, and they head over there. Phillip and I, being very aware of the need for a good nights sleep, go to bed at 9.15pm. If only we could have obtained such a sleep.
Dieter arrived back from the Casino at about 10.30pm. Seemingly unconcerned about our needs, the light goes on and the vanity tap exudes water like a deafening waterfall. Before this, I was almost in a deep sleep. Some time later, I was awakened by a police siren-what next was going to intervene in my attempt to have a decent nights rest. Fortunately, nothing else did and I awoke to the alarm at 4.30am. The race was to start at 7am, so it was important to eat at least two hours prior to running. However, it was so lovely in bed, none of us really wanted to get out. We joked about the race for awhile, before rising. For breakfast, I had one piece of toast only, and a cup of coffee. I felt quite full from the pizza the night before still, so no more for me to eat. We take turns showering, dress in our race gear and don track suits to keep warm. We clean up the room, pack our ports into the cars and start thinking a little about the race, for, by this time, it is 6.20am. Phillip does some meditation, Dieter has one last go on the throne and I do a few loosening up exercises. We're ready to walk the 300 yards to the start area, but Dieter is reluctant to leave the bathroom. We ask if he's alright and he confirms that he is. He alights shortly after and the six of us move off.
My preparation for the race was much different to what I imagined it would be. For instance, we joked, took photos, laughed and carried on, all the way to the assembly area. It was probably good in a way because I didn't have time to get nervous. Mind you, I also didn't have time to warm up properly, which I had planned to do. Over the loudspeaker came the words, -"ten minutes to the start." Phillip went to lodge his tracksuit in the clothing tent. Dieter and Judy were somewhere in the crowd. Then came the words "eight minutes to go-prepare to assemble behind the starting barrier." I shed my tracksuit pants and jacket, kissed Roz goodbye and moved behind the line. There are hundreds of spectators and lots of athletes, it seemed. It is cool and I've no clothing on that will keep me warm, but it won't be long before my body temperature will rise. I had planned to position myself midfield for the start however, I came across Rod Sheppard with whom I work, so I stopped to wish him well and there I stayed. Patti Cempiel, a fellow worker, Hervey Bay resident and moral supporter of the three Social Security marathoners and Joan Darlington, wished us good luck. There were almost 800 marathoners and 1600 half marathoners competing. Unfortunately, I missed out on seeing Greg and Joan Darlington prior to the start.
There was music being played but I have no idea what it was. It did not really register. The runners were moving up and down trying to keep loose and, no doubt, feeling quite nervous, as I was. One minute to go, I took some deep breaths, I hope I don't get tripped up in the mad dash at the start. Ron Grant, the magnificent round Australia runner fired the gun to commence the 42 kilometres of running-42 kilometres of fun, enjoyment, physical tiredness, mental tiredness, thirst, pain, ecstasy and something I will remember for the rest of my life. This was going to be an achievement, I was not going to fail at this.
I started the timer on my personal watch as I crossed the start line. I didn't know it then, but I later found out that they played "you're the voice" by Johnny Farnham, over the loudspeaker system as we ran off. The start was very orderly, no-one I saw, got interfered with. About 300 metres down the track, Phillip caught up with me, we shook hands, wished each other well, and he moved off. As he did, I noticed a runner dressed as a Nun just ahead of me. I yelled to Phil to watch out for her (him). I later found out that Phil actually ran with the Nun for 10 kilometres or so, before leaving him. It appears the Nun has run several Marathons throughout Australia and runs in the habit every time. I, too, passed the Nun on my last 1.5 kilometres. Rod Sheppard joins me for a few seconds, we speak briefly and he too moves off in search of more ground.
We had gone but 2 kilometres when the sun hat of a runner in front of me blew off. He turned to retrieve it, but decided it would cost him precious seconds to get it again, and so he left it where it fell. He may live to regret that decision. Phil had advised me to wear a hat during the race. He had experienced the sun in a half marathon a few weeks earlier here, and considered it essential to cover up. I wore a hat and I thank him for his advice, for it saved lots of perspiration and in my humble opinion, saved me at least five minutes in time, and possibly ten.
I was keeping to the left of the road, avoiding anyone behind wanting to pass me. We hit the 3 kilometre mark as we reached Surfers Paradise. Phil's parents and Aunt were staying at Units called "The Dunes' and were out on the balcony watching the runners as I approached. I didn't think Eric and Alice would recognise me with my beard and hat, so just before reaching them, I took off my hat and yelled out, "Hey Dicko, it's bloody old Clone." (Bloody old Clone was a saying, given to me by Phil and his brother Ray, on a holiday in Geelong, Victoria, way back in 1967.) They acknowledged my presence with a big smile on their faces.
I had thoughts that I was running too fast. I planned to run the first 21 kilometres at 4 minutes, 20 seconds per kilometre and I was doing 4.05 now. I decided to continue at this pace, it felt good and was no extra effort now. I felt a crease on the side of my right big toe. I tried to wiggle my foot about in my shoe, but nothing changed. I must have put my sock on in a hurry and didn't straighten it. This meant that the join at the end of my sock was slightly under my big toe. Such a little thing was causing me to worry what damage it was going to do to my foot. I said to myself that this would affect my performance if I didn't fortget about it. I succeeded in erasing it from my mind for most of the race. A female runner and I seemed to be following each other, she would be in front of me for several hundred metres then I would gradually get in front of her. I think her pace varied, as I was pretty certain I was maintaining a constant speed.
I took a drink at the 5 kilometre mark. I remembered to squeeze the top of the paper cup to form a spout for easy access into my mouth. I didn't want to stop to drink, so this was the way to go. My body was not thirsty (or so I thought) but it is very important to keep up the liquid intake regardless. I found this out during the last 10 kilometres of the race when my body was absolutely screaming out for water. Crowds lined the street for most of the way so far, not side by side, but at intermittent stages. I turned right and headed for Sea World and the Spit, the latter geographical point being the completion of one quarter of the journey.
It was around about Sea World when Pat Carroll raced past me as if there was no tomorrow. I recognised him from watching a tape of last years marathon. How could he possibly keep up this pace? His bounding stride looked effortless. The leaders had passed me on the return side now, two Japanese runners followed by Lawrie Adams. Two wheelchair entrants had also gone by. The Maryborough hope,Paul Ashford, was not far behind them. I yelled encouragement but he did not acknowledge. Phil was running a great race and we say hi to each other as we pass. I have now run 10.5 kilometres reached the turn around point and I take another cup of water. I haven't spotted Dieter yet and assume he is well in front of me. The girl I mentioned earlier has caught up with me and moves slightly ahead. She has a male running partner now. I have developed a slight pain in my right hip, which has troubled me twice in the last three months, but not so just recently. I hoped this didn't worsen as, at its worst, it made running almost impossible. I had to forget about this also. I passed Sea World again and soon turned left to begin the 7 kilometres back to the half way mark.
I had managed to overtake "that girl" again. However, her running partner and she ran around me once more but this time they cut in front of me very sharply, causing me to check my step. I wasn't going to stand for this so I ran around them and continued at a slightly faster speed for a hundred metres or so, hoping that would be the last I'd see of them. The next drink stop was welcome and I take the opportunity to sponge as well. The attendants at these stations really do a great job. The young girls and boys stand there, almost pleading with you to take their sponge. I remember one boy saying to his mate -" they always take yours and not mine." If I was him and I was worried about it, I would simply jump up the line a bit.
In the foreground, I can see "The Dunes" and "McDonalds" signs. It was taking ages to get to these points. When I did, the Dicko's were still on the balcony, waiving to me as I went by. Two females, their names unknown, were out on the footpath and yelled encouragement to me by name. I couldn't make out who they were and I wasn't about to stop and introduce myself to them. There are 3 kilometres to the turn around mark and I begin to feel some excitement, even though I know there will be another 21 kilometres to go once I get to that point. There are lots of people on each side of the street, some simply standing, watching, others heading into Surfers Paradise.
Roz, Anne and Judy were one such group heading for the Dickinson apartment. It was great to see them and they took some photos of me as I approached. Chris Cempiel was further down the track and he urges me on while his son, Damon, is looking around at the scenery. Chris's wife, Patti, is a few hundred metres further away. It was great to see the half way mark, I had one lap to go and the half marathoners could soon enjoy a XXXX (beer). I had done the 21 Kilometres in 1 hour 26 minutes, 30 seconds. I had planned for 1 hour 31 minutes, so I was thrilled to be feeling so good and four and a half minutes ahead of schedule. If only the next lap could be so quick.
I had not thought any more about my twisted sock, and my hip was not getting any worse. It was good to see Greg and Joan Darlington, they looked refreshed and we exchanged pleasantries briefly. Shortly after, I could feel symptoms of cramp in my right calf. This had also occurred in my longer training runs, but didn't get any worse then, and I was hoping like mad it didn't now. I passed "The Dunes" again, this time, Roz, Anne and Judy have joined the Dicko's on their balcony. I yelled out to them that I might be performing like Bold Alfie. (Bold Alfie was a race horse my brother owned. It won one race then was totally useless after that.)
I could sense myself slowly noticeably. My legs were getting heavy, my upper stomach was paining a little and my hip and calf were worrying me. There were lots passing me but I didn't seem to be doing too much of that. I thought of what time I would do now. I stopped calculating though, as I didn't want to stress my mind any more than was already being done. The next drink and sponge station was very welcome, I obliged myself of both.
Near Sea World, I spot a guy running in bare feet. I imagined the stress his ankles, knees and back must be under. He was running well though, so he must be quite used to it. The leaders had long since passed on their way home. The Japanese were still in front, but Lawrie Adams was not far behind. I couldn't wait for the last turn around point, but I hadn't reached Sea World yet. Phil went by, he looked hot, but very determined. He was concentrating fully on his final run home. This marathon had its humorous points. Opposite Sea World, near the new Mirage Motel units, I noticed a runner wandering around the rubble out front. Had he hit the wall and become completely disoriented, or was he looking for a place to relieve himself? I tended to think it was the latter, for he did have a rather anxious and urgent expression on his face. His situation made me very sympathetic to his cause. Another male had to relieve himself on the first lap after only 5 kilometres. There were a couple of other instances where males lost valuable seconds succumbing to these needs. I didn't notice any females in the same predicament.
Paul Ashford had also gone by. Tragically, I learned later that he had hit the wall, tried to walk, but couldn't go on and was assisted back to the finish area. He suffered this with about 6 kilometres to go. He was trying so hard to better 2 hours 30 minutes as this meant a free trip - air fare and accommodation, to Sydney, for the National titles. Paul is a great runner, and I hope he returns to triumph another time.
I pass a guy who has stopped-his sciatica is troubling him and he cannot run at all. He is going to pull out of the race. My problems don't exist when you compare what has happened to him. About 400 metres before the last turn, Rod Sheppard goes by. I thought Rod would have been further ahead of me. His preparation for this years race had been interrupted by his involvement in stage plays, so it could be that this was responsible for his slower time compared to last years effort of 3 hours 7 minutes. And last year was his first ever marathon.
I reached the final turn around point, 10.5 kilometres to go. I was very thirsty so I stopped to drink two cups of water. I wasn't intending to spill a drop. Allison Coleman, Maryboroughs other female Marathoner beside Joan Darlington, passed me soon after and she looked very strong. It was very hard to increase my pace and I didn't try as I felt this would have drained me physically, too quickly. Once again, Greg and Joan go by. Joan looks hot and a little distressed. I was hoping like hell that they would both make it, they had done a lot of hard work for this race. Several of those that had passed me earlier were now walking. I passed them and felt good. Not that I wished them any bad luck at all, it's just that they looked very strong earlier and I reckoned I must have paced myself pretty sensibly if I was now passing them. I longed for my stamina to hold out now. I felt no real pain, but concentrated on ensuring one foot went in front of the other.
I'm thirsty again already. The next station is a sponge only. I take it and thought about squeezing the sponge to obtain liquid but decided against that idea. There was a lady there with orange slices. I did not take any but not too far down the road wish that I had. I swore I'd accept orange slices if offered again. Some guys were running for a section then walking. It must have been very hard for them to continue in such a manner. I vowed not to stop, except to drink. There were runners heading towards Sea World still, I felt really sorry for them. I was about 4 kilometres in front of them and I felt bad enough. I turn off the Sea World road and begin the last long run home to the finish line.
My stomach hurts again now and I adjust the level of the waist band on my running shorts. I hoped this would help but it did not. My calf muscle was getting sore. How I prayed for that finish line. I was thirst as all hell and the drink station takes hours to reach, it seems. At the next stop I devour two cups of water, being very careful not to spill a drop. I also took three slices of orange and eat them as I run. They tasted sweet and absolutely beautiful. There were bits of orange on my moustache and beard and I brushed them off. Here I am, running a marathon, not feeling too terrific, and I'm worried about my appearance. Anyway it took my mind off my legs for a few seconds. There are 4 kilometres to go, I remember thinking that they are going to be very long kilometres.
"The Dunes" neared after many minutes (or so it felt). The Dicko's were there again. It must have been as much their day as the runners. I didn't feel like talking, but I managed to say to Eric to have a cold one waiting for me. He acknowledged and I might add that he kept his word when we called there to his unit later in the day. There are 3 kilometres to go and everything is a big effort now. I compare 3 kilometres here with 3 kilometres on my training runs and decide it should be over in about 15-18 minutes. I crave for another drink station but there are none now until I get to the finish. Some runners are passing me, they are giving it their all now. I too, pass several and still there are lots walking. Only 2 kilometres left and I'm feeling a little happier. What will it be like crossing the finish line?
The pain turns to satisfaction as I crawl past the 1 kilometre sign. I am so looking forward to this now. A Marshall on the last bend urges me on, "you can do it, only 800 metres to go" he yells.
Having mastered the last bend with perfect control and balance (????), I could see the crowd, the finish tower and the clock. I check my watch, I have run for 3 hours 13 minutes so far. Will I get there under 3 hours 15 minutes? I quicken my pace. There is 100 metres to go, time elapsed is 3 hours 14 minutes 30 seconds. Some of the crowd sing out to get there under 3 hours 15 minutes. I decided I must put in a final burst to achieve that and so I put everything I had left into this. I don't know if I was moving much faster but I hoped I was. I didn't have time to appreciate the crowd as I was concentrating on getting to that finish line. Ten metres from the finish line, I knew I was going to better 3 hours 15 minutes.
I had received reward for many many hours of training before work, after work and on weekends. I had slogged it out in the heat, the cold, in darkness, when most were in bed asleep, when others were enjoying a cold beer at the local. I've trained alone for the last four and a half months when I decided to attempt this run. I had tried to be disciplined and went for runs even when I did not want to. My "Will" power had to be stronger than my "Won't" power. All this culminated in my experiencing one of the great events in my life. I have run a Marathon.
1987 Gold Coast Marathon Finish Photo
It is 6.10am and Tony and I, together with our families, begin the walk to the start area. I met up with Phil Dickinson who is running the half marathon. We chat for a short time and then Tony and I go for a short jog. With ten minutes to go, we go for another warm up jog and then say goodbye to the family. There is three minutes to the start and we make our way to the assembly area amidst hundreds of other runners. I was not nervous at all and quite looking forward to the journey ahead.
The starting pistol fires at 6.30am and off we go. Everyone is careful to stay on their feet and maintain a position as at this time, falls can occur in their eagerness to get going. Tony and I pass the Hi-Ho Motel where roads merge and the density of runners becomes less as they sort themselves out. Tracey and Cathy give us a wave. Not too far down the road we were behind one guy with very bad body odour. What's he going to be like at the end of the run? Needless to say, we got in front of this person very quickly. A wheelie entrant was darting all over the place about 200 metres up and not long after he had turned around and looked as though he was pulling out. Further up the road, this wheelie passed us. Tony asked what was wrong and he replied that he had lost a spring on the steering mechanism and was having trouble controlling the chair.
We ran passed Iluka and I spotted Alice Dickinson and her sister, Dorothy. There were now lots of spectators lining the streets. The lifesavers were going through an exercise drill in the sand adjacent to the road we were running on. The smell of breakfast cooking in the holiday units drifted across us as we ran along. The wheelie had again stopped for more repairs. Five kilometres had gone by, I didn't feel like a drink at this first stop. Tony's beeper on his watch sounded shortly after and I figured we should have been a little further along. We were clocking 4.15 per kilometre for the first three but were now losing 5-15 seconds every kilometre after. I'm eager to go faster, I don't think Tony is and I generally find myself just ahead of Tony.
We are now on the road to the Spit and the development around the area since last year is enormous. A wheelie (different to the previously mentioned one) is the first to greet us returning from the Spit. Brad Camp is leading the running division about 200 metres ahead of Pat Carroll and his group. Where is Steve Moneghetti?, not running according to a runner alongside us. A beautiful Mercedes goes past us and I uttered, "He can have his Mercedes, I bet he can't run a marathon!" There was a group of runners with us now, and they asked if we were the 3.08 group. Wouldn't that be nice! Of course, we were not, but they ran with us briefly before leaving us in their wake.
Bruce Bate called out to me as we approached the Spit. He was about 250 metres in front of us. I wasn't thirst but drank some water anyway, as did Tony. Tony's beeper went off again-we were ahead of schedule but only just. Greg is keeping an eye on Joan from behind, they are about a kilometre back. They looked quite good. We spot a guy running in bare feet, what does he use for brains?? There was another runner dressed in light blue (tight) dress shorts and a casual T-shirt and in what appeared to be cheap runners. He was ahead of us then but I passed him at the 23 kilometre mark. Another runner was dressed in Bermuda shorts, colored T-shirt and braces. I noticed two others wearing "I'm the next Sydney-Melbourne Ultra Marathon Winner." Then there was the girl dressed in a Playgirl Bunny outfit with a white tail.
Allison Coleman wasn't competing this year as she was flying out to America the next day to compete over there. However, she appeared at the roadside now, encouraging everyone she knew. At about the 14 kilometre mark I saw Greg and Joan's son in law-Stewart. Well, I thought it had to be him-who else would wear a black T-shirt with the words-"Greg and Joan's Supporters" on it. Stewart's wife, Sharon, wasn't there then but she was, on the way back. Brad Camp is still leading the field. The half marathoners now go on a different route, so we don't see any more of them for now. We cross the Southport bridge and it is then that Tony tells me of his problems. He is running with a painful leg injury and he is slowing. I decided that I would have to go ahead although I am reluctant to do so. Mike and Carol Charles from Hervey Bay wave to me near Labrador. Having passed the turn around point at Labrador, Tony was 300 metres away and looking distressed. I have a drink and notice Joan go by.
I must admit, I was feeling very strong at this point and commenced to pass plenty of runners. Allison is there urging us on again as we head on to Main Beach. I have another drink and it doesn't seem too long before I pass McDonalds at Surfers Paradise. I figured I went through 21 kilometres in 1 hour 33 minutes. I wasn't totally unhappy with this time although I had quietly hoped for a 1 hour 30 minute half marathon. However, as I was feeling great, perhaps this time would be better for me in the end.
At the 27 kilometre drink stop, young girls in swim suits were having water fights. At 28 kilometres Roz, Mum, Dad and Glenda were there offering encouragement. Roz offered me the sun hat but no, I didn't want it as there was no sun, it was quite cloudy. In fact, I felt quite cool, body wise. Ken Mewha, who ran a great half marathon (83.04 minutes) just minutes earlier, jogged with me for a few hundred metres. His wife, Annette, was also there urging me on. I've passed the start/finish line now and head South to Nobbys Beach and Burleigh Heads. Brad Camp would only be 5 minutes from finishing as it's 2 hours 5 minutes gone and Brad won it in 2 hours 10 minutes. The route takes me on to the Gold Coast Highway and exhaust fumes from the reasonably heavy traffic. I come across Allison again. My calf muscles are very sore. I met up with the guy who asked if we were the 3.08 group. I ran with him for 300-400 metres and he then went ahead of me again when I stopped at a drink station. I ran with a girl for another short distance and she too, moved on. I can't wait for the turn around point and I almost strain my eyes looking for the Marshalls' and that 44 Gallon drum which signalled that turning point. Burleigh Heads is a long way off. I arrive there however with much relief and there's only one way home now. In running talk, this is about half way.
I'm drinking at every stop, it's so important at this stage of a marathon. I haven't had a stitch, don't want one either and I suck in the air with a few deep breaths for good measure. Joan Darlington is hardly 2 kilometres behind me. She was looking down just before we crossed. We did acknowledge each other with a wave of the hand. I don't think either of us had the energy to exchange too many pleasantries just at this point in time. I haven't seen Tony since Southport and I wonder if his injury has forced him out or is he still out there slogging it out. It's possible I missed him amongst all the runners. I spot Greg Darlington and he looked tired and a little white, but aren't we all at this stage of a marathon. The Playgirl Bunny heads off for the slog South and Allison and Harry are again by the roadside egging us on over the last few kilometres. She reckoned I was looking OK but looks can be deceiving.
I have realised that I have slowed over the last 3 or 4 kilometres and I have started to check my kilometre times. The last 3 kilometres have taken 5 minute and 5 minute 10 seconds and I still figure I can hold on for a 3 hour 12 minute marathon. Every drink stop sees me have a full cup of water but no orange slices. I would like to start pushing it now but decide to play safe and just plod on. There is only one kilometre to go and I say to myself that it's only 5 more minutes 'til it's all over. There were a few undulations before this point but it's all flat now. I can see the colored tents ahead of me. People are lining the roadway now and clapping the runners as they head to the finishing point.
I distinctly remember one young boy manning the last drink station. He was yelling to all the runners urging them on as he was giving out water. His enthusiasm was extraordinary for one so young. It was as if he had experienced running a marathon and knew what it meant to runners to be on the receiving end of such encouragement. He would surely be hoarse before too long if he kept this up. I approach the last bend and Ken Mewha was there to run a few hundred metres with me before the finish and I appreciated that. With the finish line in sight, I put on a bit of a burst and passed a few runners. As I did so, I saw Tony and Glenda in the crowd and immediately felt so sad for Tony. Ken, Tony and I had trained together for months for this event. Ken suffered from injuries a few months before the marathon and could only train enough to do the half marathon. Tony and I had planned to run together for the first 30 kilometres at least and to do our own thing after that. However, of all days to incur an injury, it had to be this day and our joint aim to finish could not be met in full. So sadness went through my mind on one part but happiness too as I crossed the finish line in a personal best time of 3 hours 11 minutes and 33 seconds. Next year we will all be there again.
It is Sunday 22nd July 1990 and it was a beautiful day for running a marathon. The temperature was about 8� and the highest it would reach for the day would e about 18�. I woke at 5.20am after having a pretty good nights sleep. Breakfast for me was just a cup of coffee. In previous years I had eaten a slice of toast as well, but not today, it was too close to start time and I was taking no chances.
Tony, Ken and I, together with our wives and young Dallas Mewha, moved out of our Motel at about 6.05am. It wasn't as cold as last year but we rugged up anyway. There were lots of people heading to the starting area, and other runners were doing their warm up jogs and exercises. I did a few short runs to stretch the legs and then joined the other entrants at about 6.25am. I didn't want to join the queue too early as I would only get cold and nervous waiting for the scheduled 6.30am start time. At 6.30am, race announcer, Benny Pike, said two minutes to go. Ken was right behind me and Joan Darlington about two metres further back. Now, I was slightly nervous, but I knew that feeling would subside as soon as we started running. The pistol fired and 42.2 kilometres lay in front of us.
I concentrated on staying out of trouble early and in doing so, maintained a good pace. In fact I later found I was running a little faster than planned. We passed the Hi-Ho Motel and turned right and then left. There was no tangent running in this congestion, but that would change a few kilometres on when everyone started stringing out somewhat. I completed one kilometre in 3 minutes 58 seconds and two in 7 minutes 59 seconds, yet I felt really comfortable at this pace. A runner in bare feet went past me (he finished in approx 2Hrs 45Min), there had to be one idiot again this year. I had passed Allison Coleman now, but hadn't spotted Bruce Bate or Ken. There was a good crowd at Surfers Paradise and plenty of Japanese amongst them.
At every drink station so far, I grabbed a cup of water, sometimes managing only a few sips before tossing it away. This part of the course was very familiar to me, having run this marathon in 1987 and 1989 and the half marathon in 1988. We passed Main Beach and turned left towards the Gold Coast Highway. Last year we had turned right, but a course change here was the only major change this year. We then turned right over the Southport bridge and here it was a little tighter room wise, as we didn't have access to the whole road. At the 8 kilometre mark, my time was 32 minutes 24 seconds and I felt great. A lot of other runners said that they were going too quick, perhaps it was just the perfect conditions prevailing.
It was around about 8.5 kilometres that I recognised Ken's voice right behind me. He hadn't seen me yet but he soon did as I asked him what had kept him. He said he wasn't feeling all that terrific, a bit of pain in one leg. We ran together for three kilometres then he moved ahead but only 20 metres or so. I had him in sight until 21 Kilometres. Perhaps I should have joined a bunch to help pass the time.
I seemed to be running behind two guys for some kilometres now. One didn't look like a good runner. I remember seeing them at about 25 kilometres, then they went ahead. But I caught them at 30 kilometres as they were slowing significantly.
There was a slight detour at Sea World where we did a circuit of the car park before rejoining the road to the Spit. It was a damn nuisance doing this, I thought at the time. I hoped this reduced the long run down to Burleigh Heads at the latter part of the race. The Half Marathoners had just turned around before Sea World and were heading back to the finish line. Ken was still just ahead of me running with a group of three or four. I hadn't spotted Bruce, Don or Phil. I later found out that Don and Phil had come down with the Flu and did not compete. It seemed, as usual, an eternity before we got to the Spit. We ran a bigger arc here than last year. I still felt great and felt as though I would hardly blow a candle out. Joan Darlington was one or two kilometres behind me and looked to be labouring, although I suspect she wasn't really.
It was at Sea World that my right calf muscle started getting sore. I had experienced the same thing two weeks prior but got over it rather quickly then. And prior to that, my left calf muscle gave me trouble for a good week or more. Two months prior to that I tore the fibres in my Achilles Tendon. All I could do now was to hope it didn't worsen.
We rejoined the half marathoners now and a good clear passage around us was a rarity. I passed the 21.1 kilometre mark in 1 hour 27 minutes 27 seconds, very happy with that effort and I could still see Ken who was 27 seconds in front of me. Traffic was heavy now and from here on I found myself meandering all the way to 500 metres from the half marathon finish point. This is where we took a different route. Water was imperative at this stage and I made certain I got some at each station. I waved to Alice Dickinson and her sister, Dorothy, who were staying at "The Carlton" this year. My calf was rather sore but not stopping me from running. I just had to blot it out of my mind.
At 25 kilometres, Roz was waiting to take a photo and give me a cup of "Maximum." It was a pretty weak solution, I remember saying to myself. Roz asked if everything was OK. I mumbled that my calf was sore and I took off again. Dallas Mewha was also there to photograph his mum and dad. Tony would have finished the Half Marathon by now. (He ran it in 1 hour 31 minutes) Our route saw us bypass the finish area. We turned right, ran the block and came back on the Old Burleigh Road, a few hundred metres past the finish line. I felt reasonable here, but did not have the same sparkle I had earlier. About 3 kilometres on, I saw the eventual winner (on protest), Alan Carmen, heading towards the finish area. The Japanese runner half a kilometre in front of him was being coached by a Japanese guy on a bicycle, and he beat Alan Carmen home, but rightly, was disqualified for being paced and coached. Paul Ashford wasn't much further behind the leaders and he finished in a great 2 hours 29 minutes.
I wasn't particularly looking forward to the run south to Burleigh heads, it seemed to take forever to get there. A lot of runners were really starting to feel it now and were slowing considerably. This is the stage where one finds out if training for the event has been inadequate and/or, if one has run too fast up 'til now.
At 30 kilometres my time was 2 hours 5 minutes, so I had to run the next 12.2 kilometres in under 55 minutes to break the three hour mark. On a normal training run that wouldn't be a problem but I had already run 30 kilometres so what lay ahead of me was not what I would call a normal training run. I was definitely slowing down now and my thighs and hips were aching. By now we had turned on to the Gold Coast Highway. We had to negotiate an incline, not real steep, but it hurt at this point of the marathon. I could see that some runners had bypassed this path and ran on to the roadway adjacent, thus avoiding the incline and conserving energy.
I was tempted to do this but played safe, just in case race Marshall's were there. Off the Gold Coast Highway and back on to the Old Burleigh Road and the journey to the turn around point. It took some time before I could see where runners were rounding the drum and heading back in my direction. I was very thirsty and anxious for a drink. Ken passed me going the other way, he looked to be running OK but full of concentration. I calculated he was about three quarters of a kilometre in front of me.
I was ever so pleased to finally round that drum and it was all one way home from here. A kilometre or so up the road, I stopped to drink and Bruce Bate passed me. He didn't stop, but yelled to me to keep going. I was screaming out for this drink so I wasn't going to sacrifice it to join him. I kept him within site for the next 4 or 5 kilometres then lost him.
Out on to the Gold Coast Highway and up that bloody rise again. Boy, did I slow down going up that point. The decline though, was welcome but I still couldn't run any faster. I made sure I had a good drink at the next 2 drink stations. I picked up 2 cups and drank them both. I also walked while sipping the, perhaps for 50-100 metres. It was at the last drink stop that Allison Coleman went by me, about 2 or 3 kilometres from the finish line. At the drink station prior, I had got the fright of my life. A guy behind me, obviously feeling himself about to stop or hit "the wall", yelled out -"Don't you dare stop now," as well as some other indecipherable mumblings. I looked ahead and spectators were looking my way and no doubt thinking -"what's that guy on about."
There was one Japanese runner who amused me. One minute he would run past me at a good rate but with very short steps. A few minutes later, I would pass him as he was walking along looking kind of stunned. This happened two or three times over the final three kilometres.
Greg Darlington passed me as he headed south. He said to me, "You've got it", meaning I would break the three hour mark. But I knew at this point that I would not break that magical three hours. My legs were so tired, my hips were aching badly and the tops of my thighs were likewise. Three kilometres is not far normally, but at the end of a marathon, it can feel like twenty kilometres. I tried to convince myself that it would all be over in about fifteen minutes. How I wished for the time when there was only 100 metres to go and the crowd are cheering on from both sides of the road. I would look pretty well expressionless, no real signs of emotion, but deep down, I would be as proud as anything to be there. There is one kilometre to go now and I could see the finish line up ahead. However, I would not cross that line for a few minutes yet as this year, we had to detour around a few blocks to the left and approach the finish line from the North. I could feel a small smile appear on my face and I was starting to really enjoy these last few minutes. People on the footpath were clapping me and the other runners, appreciative of the effort we had all put in. Had Ken made it and most importantly, had he finished in under three hours? I am not sure how my speed ratin was, I was probably doing about five and a half minute per kilometre pace. The second last street was about 200 metres long and I felt great although my appearance probably defied my feelings. The last corner emerged and there were people absolutely everywhere. I turned right and as I did, I heard my mate, Tony, yell, "Clonan, don't tell me you're sick". That was music to my ears and I acknowledged with a "thumbs up" from each hand as I ran away from him towards the line. I had felt a little off during the last two weeks and I had mentioned to Tony during that time how I had been feeling. I honestly wasn't feeling 100 per cent, I had been experiencing a slight sick feeling and dry throat. Anyway, it was anything but a sick feeling as I had 150 metres to go and the clock ahead of me showed 3 hrs 4 minutes 30 seconds. It was a tremendous feeling as I was about to complete my third marathon. I heard ,y name called out, but I could not really distinguish who the caller was. Roz was there but so were a few thousand others and I will never forget the atmosphere. I wanted to better 3 hours 5 minutes but my pace had to quicken. I usually ran harder over the last few hundred metres but this year I didn't. I only ran hard enough to stop the clock under 3 hours 5 minutes and was very pleased with the effort which was a personal best by 6 minutes. The pain in my body was there but the elation at completing the marathon in a good time far outweighed that. Pain subsides but that time will stand forever. Ken completed the run in a fantastic 2 hours 58 minutes. Perhaps I can emulate his run next year.
1990 Gold Coast Marathon Finish Photo
From Hervey Bay, Tony Roberts, Richard Merrick and I competed, and from Maryborough, Alison Coleman, Joan Darlington and Bruce and Frances Bate. Ken Mewha and my Partner, Roz, ran the Half Marathon.
Robert De Castella fired the starting pistol at 6.49am. The weather was the warmest I'd experienced at any of the Gold Coast Marathons, it was about 15 degrees. I lined up about fifteen metres from the front of the line up. It was the cleanest of all the Marathons I'd competed in so far. Everyone seemed to get away without incident. A slight down hill for 300 metres then a medium climb before the course flattened out. Benny Pike was again the MC and I could hear him in the background as we ran North.
One kilometre had passed, everything is well and I put it down in 4 minutes 2 seconds. Already a wheelie was returning to the start, a problem with his chair. He'd probably trained all year for this event and has had a disastrous start. Alison Coleman was just up ahead of me, but I soon passed her. I thought about moving over to her to say hello and perhaps run with her, but I had a bit of a plan this year, so I decided against that. I was glad I did not run with her as he end result will show.
You will always have one mug in the group. This idiot was Tony the Pom. He was having lots of pleasure saying "Hi" to all and sundry and telling them that he had the flu bad. In between his utterings he was coughing up heaps of phlegm. He said he only decided at 6.30am to run the Marathon. He asked some runners what time they were aiming for. Some were going for 3 hours, others 2 hours 55 minutes. Tony the Pom wanted to run 3 hours, so he settled in with that group. I'm not sure that the group were all that pleased. He talked non stop. He wasn't a slim guy by any means. I noticed one runner move away from him, he obviously could not handle Tony the Pom's rambling on and spitting. I made sure I kept out of his way also and checked the breeze to see which way it was blowing to keep out of his draft and avoid his germs.
I've been passed by women before but this one really stunned me. This absolute skinny, mid 40's lady steamed past me at about 2.5 kilometres. She seemed to be gliding along doing it so easily. Her arm action was unusual however. One arm was straight up and down, the other swung out and back sideways across her body. I never saw her again, she sure could run.
We turned left up over a bridge and down to the first drink station at 5.3 kilometres. I grabbed a cup of water but only had a few sips. For some reason, a stitch kept plaguing me from here through to 20 kilometres. I kept pressing on the stitch area with my thumb and it worked to relieve it temporarily.
My pace was a little quicker than last year. During the lead up week to the Marathon, I didn't feel too great. But after thinking about it all, I think this feeling is part of the "Depletion and carbo loading" package and process. For during the first several kilometres, I felt easy with my pace, which, at the 5 kilometre mark, was 4 minutes 3 seconds per kilometre. The route was quite scenic so far and the half marathon runners were passing me going the other way. They were at the 9 kilometre mark. My time at 10 kilometres was 40 minutes 50 seconds and on target.
The sun was up and the temperature was rising quickly. The run up the hill to the start point again was quite stimulating. The crowd were lining both sides of the road and clapping and cheering everyone. I noticed Tony's wife, Glenda, and she offered encouragement as usual. We headed up over the Southport bridge and Ken Mewha and I saluted each other as we ran off in opposite directions. Turning left over the bridge and there is another water stop. I was still following Tony the Pom and his group. The spectators were everywhere and it was a pretty amazing feeling to be running. I turned right into Main Beach area and the long haul down to Burleigh was just beginning.
I was looking forward to 15 kilometres as this was my first of three "special" drink stops. I had prepared red sauce bottles with a product called "Exceed". This was a high energy level drink and also helped to replace lost electrolytes. I scanned the tables looking for my sauce bottle. You guessed it, mine was one of hundreds of red sauce bottles. I was about to give up looking for mine and go for plain old water when I spotted my bottle. That special drink was really crucial for my energy levels. I carried this bottle right up to Cavill Ave, Surfers Paradise.
The smell of food cooking at McDonalds was yuk to me at this point in the run. It was the last thing I wanted to smell. But I had to put up with it and also several other spots where residents and shops were cooking food and the odour wofted in front of us.
An incident at the Cavill Ave intersection nearly caused a bad situation. I was running on the left side of the road alongside the kerb. A Japanese spectator just in front of me was holding this enormous flag with Japanese writing on it. When I was only a few metres from him, he bent down to put something on the pavement and in doing so, the flag he was carrying, came down also so that it was only inches from the ground. I yelled to this idiot as did other spectators, and he suddenly realised what he had done. He lifted the flag up but by this time, I had to veer to my right to avoid the damn flag.
The stitch was still with me and I was still pressing on it from time to time. I heard one woman say, "He's got a stitch, that guy." I was fast approaching a rather plump fellow and once I got next to him, he looked over and tried to go with me. However, he only lasted ten or so metres before he dropped off.
My right hip was sore now, that's all I needed at this relatively early stage of my journey. The pain did go some kilometres down the road, but then I had pain running down the back of my leg, possibly Sciatica. It too, went in time and apart from fatigue, nothing else really bothered me. I ran past the accommodation units we were staying at -"The Biarritz". The take away shop 200 metres on, sent out a very strong onion smell -Yuk!! Normally I love the smell of onions cooking, but not today when I want to breathe in plain fresh odourless air. Only a couple of kilometres further on, I passed the start/finish line of last year. Today, this is the 20 kilometre mark and my time thus far is 1 hour 21 minutes 50 seconds. I was very happy with this time. My 21.1 kilometre time was 1 hour 26 minutes 10 seconds which was 1 minute 17 seconds quicker than last year. I could not afford to be more than 7 minutes 39 seconds slower for the second 21.1 kilometres if I wanted to better 3 hours for the Marathon.
As I ran down the Old Burleigh Road with the road much narrower now, lots of spectators lined the footpaths. The first of the Marathoners would soon be sighted heading back to the finish line. The Corner Store at Nobby's provided loud music and with hundreds of spectators there as well, it really gave me a buzz. As I turned right on to the road that led on to the Gold Coast Highway, Paul Ashford was heading back the other way and appeared to be running very well. The hill on the Gold Coast Highway was not on the itinerary this year. Instead, one lane of the highway was blocked off for the runners. On to the Esplanade road and the turn around point at Burleigh was only a few kilometres away. A special drink at 25 kilometres was most gratifying and I carried it for some time before finally drinking it all and tossing it on to the side of the road. My Uncles and Aunties, Fred and Mary, and Paddy and Esme, were on the roadside looking out for me. Mary was so excited on seeing me, she put her camera down and lunged out at me. God, what was she doing to me? She wanted to kiss and hug me but it was probably not the right circumstances in which to do this today. So it was a quick hello only and off I went again. I hoped she realised I couldn't stop for a casual chat just now.
I turned around the 44 gallon drum and began the 16 kilometre run back to the finish line. Bruce Bate was about 700 metres behind me. I thought he would catch me before the end. I never saw Alison again. I didn't see Joan Darlington at all during the run. At the 25.3 kilometre drink stop I saw Tony having a drink and he didn't look all that terrific. We acknowledged each other and I continued North as he headed South. I was starting to feel the strain myself now. There was only one way home and the sooner I got there the sooner I would be put out of my misery.
I was grabbing sponges at every sponge station and drinks at every drink station. I pushed my way back along the narrow section of Old Burleigh Road. I had 12 kilometres to go and 56 minutes to run it in. I was feeling quietly confident of breaking the 3 hour mark. At 32 kilometres I grabbed 3 sponges and wet my head and face. There was now 10 kilometres to go and 47 minutes in which to finish it. I ran past "The Biarritz" again and couldn't wait to at least get into Surfers Paradise. The crowd hadn't dropped off any and they were still urging the runners on. Where was that Japanese lunatic? If the same situation occurred again, I wouldn't be able to dodge him as easy this time as I wasn't as light on my feet. I could feel my leg speed dropping off, would I get there in time to break 3 hours? I was really wanting my next special drink now. When that time came, at the 35.4 kilometre mark, I grabbed my sauce bottle of Exceed and walked 50 metres ensuring I had a good few mouthfuls of it. I then kept running with it and eventually disposed of it when it was empty, which was at about the 40 kilometres mark.
I attempted to run in the middle of the road as much as possible, but when I am very tired, I have a tendency to veer to the left of the roadway. I had 38 minutes to do 8 kilometres. The return path at Main Beach deviated left instead of following the Esplanade road. It was not long before I could see the finish area and all the tents across the river. There was now 2 kilometres to go and 9 minutes to do it in. I didn't think I could do it. Nothing like being positive! I made a concerted effort to increase my speed and I believe I did go a little faster. Boy, was I looking forward to seeing the crowd and that finish line.
I rounded the last corner on to the Gold Coast Highway and started the run up over the Southport Bridge for the last time. I tried to pick up my speed again. Ken Mewha had run up to meet me and ran with me for half a kilometre or so. I recall he said to me, " Don't talk, I'll do all the talking." I managed a quiet grunt and said, "That suits me." He kept saying to me -"keep your stride, you've got it in the bag, you don't have to do any more now, you've done all the hard work." Ken thought I was well under 3 hours, I knew otherwise but didn't have the energy to say anything. My speed was very good, I was experiencing a burst of energy now and I'm sure I was actually getting quicker the closer I got to the finish line. Funny as it may seem, I certainly felt better in the stomach than 10 kilometres ago. I was pretty amazed that Bruce and Alison had not passed me. The sun was blaring down but was not worrying me greatly. Perhaps if it was 5 degrees cooler, my time would have been quicker by a few minutes.
The number of people that lined the road now was fantastic. I could hear Benny Pike on the microphone. I heard him yell out -"Here comes 698, Peter Clonan." At least he got my surname right, I was impressed. He was urging me to break 3 hours, he too, must not have been aware what the actual time was. I heard Roz and her group yell my name. I turned right towards the finishing chutes, a Marshall was directing some half marathon finishers to the right and he then waved me to the left. I could see the clock and it was definitely a sight to behold. I pushed to the finish line with a smile and with my right hand punching the air. My time for the 42.2 kilometres was a personal best 3 hours 1 minute 32 seconds. I was one really happy person and was made even sweeter a few minutes later when I learnt that my partner, Roz, had completed her first half marathon in 2 hours 14 minutes.
1991 Gold Coast Marathon Finish Photo
It is 6.30am, Sunday 12th July, the temperature is about 8 degrees and blue skies abounded overhead.� It was perfect conditions to run a Marathon. The Hervey Bay families gathered here were the Clonans, Roberts, Mewhas and Normans.� Tony Roberts and I went for a short warm up run, returned to the group and wished each other well for their respective runs.� Tony and I were running the full Marathon while Roz, Annette, Ken and Dave were running the Half Marathon.� We made our way to the starting line, there were runners everywhere and officials were trying to get them to assemble quickly behind the tape.� We managed to squeeze in about twenty metres behind the start line.� About 1750 competitors would attempt the 42.2 kilometre journey.� Herb Elliott was the Celebrity starter.� The event began a few minutes late, but we were finally away.
It was a slow start, taking several seconds to cross the starting line.� This year, the organisers decided to divide the field into time zones.� Entrants were required to position themselves into zones of their expected finish time.� The faster runners should be ahead of the slower ones.� To a certain degree, this was a failure as a lot of the runners were not in their correct time zones.� I was held up for several hundred metres and had to zig zag my way around a lot of slow Japanese female runners.� I knew my first kilometre time would be slow and I had to resist the temptation to surge as this would burn up too much energy early.� I was hoping to run this Marathon in under three hours and to do this, I would have to average 4 minutes 16 seconds per kilometre.� My first kilometre was run in 4 minutes 24 seconds which meant I would have to make up the difference over the next two or three kilometres.
A few months ago, a group of Ambulance staff had run through Hervey Bay as part of a trip from North Queensland to Brisbane, to raise money for the Paralympians.� Tony and I had joined them out the road and run the 10 kilometres into Hervey Bay with them.� I had already sighted three of them up to this stage and I ran with one of them for the next 25 kilometres.� Once again, this year, there were lots and lots of spectators lining the kerb as we ran North to Runaway Bay.� They were already clapping everyone and offering encouragement, yet there was still 40 kilometres to go.
I had a plastic sauce bottle containing my special drink of "Exceed, " at four drink stations, 10, 20, 30 and 35 kilometres.� I could see the 10 kilometre drink station table on the opposite side of the road now and made a point of trying to spot mine, even though I would not be at this point for another 8 kilometres, on the return journey.� I could see my bottle clearly as I had a thin piece of dowl (wood) attached to the bottle with a blue cardboard circle taped to the top of it.� I didn't want to waste seconds looking for it when I got to the drink station.� There were lots of different identification designs, some runners really did use their imagination.� Mine was the tallest there, so at least my efforts to easily identify my drink were successful.
A female runner, Lyn Stern, was up ahead of me and her number was 69.� Of course, this prompted some suggestive remarks from the male runners.� Lyn took it all in her stride and laughed off all the jibes.� She sure had a skimpy outfit on, a one piece running outfit but with plenty of skin exposed. This was not a time for distractions if I wanted to break three hours.
There was the usual talk going on between runners.� Some were friends running together, others were looking for running partners who were, like me, trying to better three hours.� I tried to run the tangents but this was virtually an impossibility just now due to the large number of runners around me.� The water at the 5 kilometre drink stop was terrible and I did� not have much for fear of having a stomach upset.� A female runner with a Walkman had fallen near the drink table, perhaps she had been tripped by a fellow runner in the scramble to get a drink.� She got up and continued on, seemingly unphased by the incident.
Coming back along Marine Parade, I was running between two little Japanese guys.� It's a little distracting running with them as they tend to continually alter their pace.� One minute they were ahead of me, then they fell behind me.� A few minutes later they went past me again.� At 10 kilometres, the Marshall was calling out the time that had elapsed so far.� He gave my time as 41 minutes 26 seconds, yet my clock said 41 minutes 33 seconds, a seven second difference.� Two other runners commented on the discrepancy also.� I got my "special" drink OK and drank three quarters of it over the next kilometre or so.� The half marathoners were coming the other way now and the leaders were absolutely flying.
The start/finish line was approaching, but ahead of that was a slight rise for a few hundred metres.� There were thousands of spectators in this area.� Ray Scarlett, from Hervey Bay, yelled encouragement to me from the crowd.� As I was starting the run up over the Southport bridge, there was a half marathoner running, but pushing his young son in a pram.� He was moving quite fast too, and I thought to myself that this was such a gutsy effort.� At the next drink stop I had water and also poured some over my head.� As I turned towards Main Beach, a slight head wind confronted us but it did not bother me.
My time for 15 kilometres was 1 hour 2 minutes which equates to 4 minutes 8 seconds per kilometre and that put a smile on my face.� I was just ahead of schedule, feeling very strong and nothing was bothering me.� Every so often I would say to myself: "Form Form Form."� I had practised this recently in my training runs and it seemed to work in that it put me back on track when I felt my pace was slowing a little.� It also helped me to focus mentally.�
I had felt so good up to this point, but now I felt a stitch coming on. It was not real bad, but enough to make me press on the spot to try and make it go away.� That seemed to help.� It did come back at various times but each time I pressed on it again and it abated.� Perhaps it was the drink of Exceed, it might have been a bit strong as it also tended to make me burp a little.
There were lots of spectators as we ran through Surfers Paradise.� The Japanese were there again with their large banners like last year, only this time I was not (nearly) hit by one.� Some good tangent running was possible here and also for the next three kilometres.� At 20 kilometres I got my next drink of Exceed.� More burping resulted and after offering some of the drink to other runners, I tossed the bottle away.
My 21.1 kilometre time was 1 hour 27 minutes and I was still on target for a sub three hour run.� The wheelchair marathoners were heading back to the finish area now, they can really move those chairs.� A tall skinny guy ran past me, he had "France" written on the back of his singlet.� He said he had been in Australia for two years.� He was running with his mate but his mate was starting to drop back a little.� He called him forward, the mate nodded but he could not execute his friends wish.� This went on for several minutes and it was quite funny in the end as the friend that was in front kept urging his mate forward without looking behind him to see where he was.� And of course, his mate was well and truly behind him and he would not have been anywhere near close enough to hear what his friend was saying.� He was going to have to do it all by himself from now on.
It was a long run down the narrow Old Burleigh Road from Broadbeach to Nobby's Beach.� It seemed to take forever (like every year) to get there but my spirits rose somewhat when I hit the Gold Coast Highway.� More water at 25 kilometres, still feeling pretty good, but I also had to concentrate more now.� The Ambulance runner had fallen back now, he eventually finished in about 3 hours 15 minutes.� My two Aunties and Uncles were up ahead of me, Mary and Fred Wickham and Delia and Claude Sanford.� It was a buzz seeing them and I yelled out that Roz and I would see them next morning for a chat.
The turnaround marker was again a drum in the middle of the road, as it was last year.� I found myself running a larger arc getting around it.� It was too much of an effort to just pivot around it and take off again.� It can be tough at this point of the run and I felt it now.� I knew I only had one direction to go back to finish the event-North, but my whole body began to ache more and I began to feel a little tired.� The words "Form Form Form" resurrected in my mind.� Brian Evans from Maryborough, was only 400 metres behind me, he was running one hell of a race.� Joan Darlington wasn't far behind Brian and she looked rather strong. I never saw Bruce Bate or Alison Coleman, except at the 5.5 kilometre mark.�
I ran back on to the Gold Coast Highway again and Tony Roberts was heading South.� He looked good, much better than at the same stage last year.� I said I was feeling good, perhaps I told a little white lie there.� But all things considered, I guess I did feel a sense of goodness despite everything.� I didn't mind the run South this year, perhaps it was because I felt better for longer this year compared to last year.� There were a few small inclines from here on and I had to concentrate so I did not lose pace when I came across them as, feeling as I did, it would be quite easy to simply maintain any drop off in pace.� I kept mainly to the centre of the road, this was the flattest part of the road for the next 4 kilometres.
My time at 30 kilometres was 2 hours 4 minutes 30 seconds, similar to last year.� I now had 12.2 kilometres to run and just over 55 minutes to do it in.� I had another drink of Exceed and a poured a cup of water over my head as well.� I passed Lyn Stern here.� I would have to monitor my kilometre times closely from here on to make sure I was on track for that sub three hour run.� While it is obviously very much a physical thing from now on, it was also very much a mental thing.� The mind has to be in control and if it is not, then the physical side of you can quickly fall apart.� I could not afford to do worse than 4 minutes 30 seconds per kilometre.� I wanted to try for between 4 minutes 15 seconds and 4 minutes 20 seconds per kilometre for awhile so that I could afford a drop off in the last few kilometres, if it did in fact, come down to that.
At 32 kilometres, I was starting to really hurt.� I had 47 minutes to do 10.2 kilometres.� A spectator at the roundabout at Broadbeach urged me to fight on for a sub three hour time.� That person must have done his sums too.� I was now telling myself what I had been telling other runners, i.e. it's not pain as such, it's just lots of discomfort.� Form Form Form, I kept saying to myself as I passed the 35 kilometre sign not far from Surfers Paradise.� My last special drink of Exceed was just up ahead.� I did not feel like drinking it, but I firmly believed it would help, so I managed to drink about half of it.� I also grabbed a cup of water and poured it over my head.� The head is where the heat escapes so I wanted to keep that part cool.
I was passing heaps of runners at this point.� Many were obviously "hitting the wall" and for them it was going to be a case of having to "Guts" it out from here on.� Spectators still lined the side of the road, I could see them there peripherally but not looking at them like I did an hour ago when I was feeling much better.� For me now, it was a case of one foot in front of the other.� The various food smells at Surfers Paradise made me feel kind of nauseous and I couldn't wait to get out of that area.� I was still checking my watch every kilometre.� Some kilometres were under 4 minutes 20 seconds some were just over, it was getting harder to do my arithmetic, the mind was not at its peak that's for sure.� And when I found a kilometre time slow, I really had to force myself to pick up the pace again.�
The "mind game" was really on now.� My hips and quadriceps were hurting bad but I won't feel that once I cross the finish line, so I was just thinking of that time.� There was, after all, only 5.2 kilometres to go and twenty five minutes to get there.� Surely I could put up with anything for that relatively short period of time.� This was my best chance of all the Marathons I had competed in, to achieve that elusive sub three hour time.� Was I going to waste all those hours of training, of training before and after work, the aches and pains from injuries endured now and then over the last six years,� the pretty comprehensive "carbohydrate depletion and loading" program I had adhered to over the last seven days. Was I going to suffer the disappointment of missing my dream by a miserly few seconds?� Not on your life, I said to myself.
The sign at 38 kilometres was music to my ears, now I wanted to see the 39 kilometre sign.� I was beginning to build up my confidence a little, I was thinking of the crowd at the finish area who would be clapping and urging me on to beat that clock.�� I imagined the Mewhas', the Roberts', the Normans' and my partner, Roz, shouting at me with only metres to go.� I didn't want to let them down as we had all supported each other over the years.� At 40 kilometres, I looked over across the water and I could see all the tents and the large crowd at the finish zone.� Form Form Form-I really needed this now, the mission has not yet been completed.� Lyn Stern (the 69 lady) passed me at the 40 kilometre drink stop.� While she was ahead of me, I decided I would not let her get more than about 30 metres in front of me from now til the finish line.� As I turned on to the Southport Bridge and 1.6 kilometres to go, I started smiling to myself. I could sense something wonderful ahead.� Ken Mewha was at the apex of the bridge.� I think he was as excited as I was right now.� I said to him, "I've got it, I've got it this time." And Ken replied that my rythem was good, better than last year.� Who gives a rats how my rythem was right now, the fact is, I was going to get there in sub three hours no matter how my rythem looked.�
The run up the bridge was full of concentration.� Ken asked how much time had elapsed.� After two attempts to clearly see my watch, I said that 2 hours 52 minutes and 26 seconds had passed.� Ken stayed with me for a few hundred metres until the crowd started congregating then he left me to enjoy the run to the line.� It was a nice feeling even though just about everything was hurting at this point.� The crowd was magic and Roz and all my friends were screaming encouragement to me.� Further along I heard Greg Darlington and Rod Sheppard's voices.� What a feeling it was as I turned off the main road and ran on down towards the finish chute to record a personal best time of 2 hours 58 minutes 37 seconds, for an average kilometre time of 4 minutes 14 seconds.
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