It was dark, but not an empty dark - thousands of people shivering in Melbourne’s icy winds were milling around making the cold air feel full. When I got there the crowd was full of unhurried purpose, almost like an airline departure lounge, we’re all going somewhere.
I took shelter under the awning of Clocks (a cheep and possibly un-cheerful pokies venue) from the cold. I jumped up and down on the spot to make sure there was blood in my legs. I had good company, at least 20 moisture wicking clad bodies all did their best to remain warm.
With 5 minutes to go I inserted myself into the start corral. I thought I was near the middle of the pack, but I couldn’t see the actual start line. We all bounced up and down on our toes like puppies trying to escape a slightly too tall cardboard box. No one moved forward though. We seemed to be waiting forever.
But then we weren’t. Some excited bodies bounced forward eagerly, most just walked. We still couldn’t see it, but as we rounded the corner, past the Filnders St steps there was suddenly music, and voices. We were already at least 500m from where I had slipped into the crowd but we hadn’t even officially started the race yet.
I heard the gun for the second wave, bang. Then we surged again, a little faster this time. More excited bodies.
We were jogging, slowly. Then bang, third wave.
“Thats me” I thought. I surged with them. And we bounced, more like deer this time. Bounce, bounce, bounce. Though the big inflatable arch, past sidelines of crew, some sleepy families. People yelling.
At first I listened to music. We ran though strange parts of the city I had never been though, and I caught a glimpse of pale blue light. The sun rose as I passed though the Docklands, it was all so lovely, the yellow light on the water. There was a hairpin turn, a very professional runner in shorts coming the other way makes eye contact. He’s smiling. “Those tights are GREAT” I hear him over the music, I am bursting with joy.
Too fast though. The voice in my ear told me my pace. Too fast. I became worried, if I ran too fast now maybe I wouldn’t finish. Just stop by the side of the road like a car out of petrol. I had mad flashes of pushing broken down cars as a child and I panicked. My already racing heart doubled down. No one was going to push me though the finish line.
Retrieving my phone from my pocket I replaced the music with an audio book. William Gibson’s Neuromancer, about halfway though. Distracted by the story and the sunrise, the worry faded. Moly and Case are escaping the Turing police on Freeside, Im running along the Yarra. Same, same.
The distraction works. And suddenly its 4ks to go.
17ks, I had run 17ks. I am elated.
My attention is taken by a familiar walk, I know that jumper. Behind the crowd on the sidelines, taking the spectator path to the finish line. I yell and yell. He’s got his headphones in, doesn’t hear me. I yell one last time. Oh well, I run on, I’ll see him so soon! Im almost there! It was almost too easy!
I feel slightly smug, 3ks to go. “This wasn’t hard!” There is a radio show host standing there with a big foam hand trying to high five people. Runners avoid him like they know something.
“Silly” I think. If you want enthusiasm you should have been high fiving us in the Docklands where we were just 5ks in and the sunrise was beckoning us froward like a mother teaching her kid to walk. I jump up and my palm hits the stupid foam thing. A tiny voice inside asks me “Was that wise?”.
We run over the train tracks, the bridge feels steeper than usual. A little burst of worry ignites. Starting to crest and the ground under me starts to feel soft mushy. Its weird and instead I concentrate on the book, the story, looking out at the mass of runners in front of me.
Blink. They have all joined together. Every single person in front of me has blended together into some multi legged tight wearing mass. Blink. A huge forward facing centipede in runners. Im not as surprised as I should be. Do people hallucinate when they run? I shut my eyes and run my hand over my face. Pressing the bridge of my nose as I do.
Open, The vision starts to fade. We come down on the other side of the bridge. The effect has gone and all I can think is “Weeeeeird”.
2.5ks to go. A little pain. Just in the knee, then the other. “Its ok”.
2ks to go. It’s still there, rising like boiling water. I try and concentrate on the story. I can’t. In my head, my inner monologue is repeating a very annoying “Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch”. In time with every step.
I am annoyed, “Shut up brain”. I pull my phone out again. Book, off. Running mix, you’re up. The Vaccines assault my head. I hadn’t realised how sore my head was too.
“Ouch, ouch, ouch…”
I turn a corner and there is a hill. I have met this hill before, I have run up it many many times. It’s never looked like this. It towers over me, it looms. Ominous, it may as well have thunder clouds at its peak. I push, willing my steps to sync with the beat of the music and not the chorus of “ouch”.
1.5ks, I feel like I’ve gone nowhere, the music in my ears is muddy as though I have dropped my headphones in yogurt before putting them in. I am becoming my inner voice. “OUCH, OUCH, OUCH”
Its everywhere now. I feel like my body is emitting pain. Broadcasting it. Im sure I am radioactive, glowing.
I AM NOT ALLOWED TO STOP
The incline flattens, then recedes. I know the finish line is down, there, I let gravity pull me, some how catching myself each time. A perpetual stuttering fall.
Round the corner. THERE. GO.
Despite the pain, I go. My body approximates a sprint. The crowds on the side blur, smear. The music is just a whump whump whump.
Under the second inflatable arch. People yelling.
DON’T FALL DOWN.
Teetering forward, walking now. Someone cuts the chip off my shoe. Someone else hands me water.
Don’t fall down.
A face, I see a face, I smile, try to wave. Arm didn’t work right. Stagger forward. I am handed a medal. I did it. The line was back there and I’ve been walking around for a whole two minutes. I did it. The face again, arms, hug. I did it.
