Tag Archives: Half marathon

Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional

Which one?

Which one?

2 weeks ago, I ran a half marathon.

I finished in 98 minutes, more than 5 minutes off my Personal Best.

I had mixed emotions at the end of the race.

On the one hand, I was satisfied with the run, especially after the confidence-sapping efforts of my last race – a marathon in which I walked the last 6-7 km due to severe cramping. Continue reading


A run of redemption

What's wrong with everyone's watch?

What’s wrong with everyone’s watch?

A couple of weeks ago, I completed my last race for the running season – one that is winding down as the temperature in Australia is heating up.

It was a half-marathon around the sporting complex which hosted the Year 2000 Sydney Olympics, with runners crossing the finish line inside the main stadium. And I was determined to cross that finish line, after the spectacular failure to reach the end in my last race.

As usual though, the desire to run a good race did not interfere with my habit of people-watching during the event. And it was a smorgasboard on that day, with the splendid spring weather bringing out some wonderful characters to gawk at. Continue reading

Running the show

According to race organisers, there were 10,451 runners who successfully crossed the finish line in last Sunday’s Sydney Morning Herald Half Marathon, yours truly proudly among them. However, I can tell you for a fact that the population on, off and along course that day was easily double that official figure.



Firstly, there were the runners who, for whatever reason, did not finish. There is no shame in that. Indeed, it could happen to the best of them, due to injuries, cramps, hangovers from the previous night or some macho-dare between friends gone horribly wrong.

Secondly, there were the numerous spectators along the course. Some of them fanatically cheered on their family members and friends, often waving some amusing signs (“Hurry mum, I want breakfast. Dad’s still asleep!“) and some not so amusing ones (“My dad’s in front of you, and he’s 68!“). Continue reading