Open Writing

I was writing a report in my office one Thursday afternoon when Graham Thornton, a friend from the finance section, walked in.

“You eighth floor people are useless,” he said. “You never do anything for the department.”

The eighth floor housed the top administration with support staff. Graham had been trying to enlist volunteers from the floor to run for the department in the 5km Corporate Cup event along the river from Barrack Street to the Causeway and back.

There were no takers.

“Don’t look at me,” I said. “I haven’t run anywhere for years. I’m a smoker.”

“Well bloody stop,” he said.

He allocated me to a team and said I would have to run the 5km on Tuesday lunch times for six weeks.

When I arrived home that night, I stripped and ran about 700 metres round the block. I was breathless and shattered at the finish.

At Tuesday’s event, I lined up with a lot of strangers and ran the 5km. At one stage I had to stop to catch my breath, and finished last, taking about 38 minutes.

That night, using my car’s speedometer, I measured out a 5km run. Every night after work, I ran it. The first one took 37 minutes 50 seconds but I didn’t stop, running all the way.

Next time we ran the Corporate Cup, I wasn’t last. In the changing room back at the department, one of our runners told Graham that he wouldn’t be running again.

“I’m hopeless,” he said. “Even Harris beats me.”

That made me smile. Graham Thornton looked across at me. “A 5km run is for pussies,” he said.

“You should run a marathon.”

I went to Runners World and bought a book on how to improve your running, and signed an entry form for the Perth Marathon in three months time.

I ran the Perth Marathon in 3 hours 56 minutes and was hugely elated by this achievement. It left me on a high which lasted at least six months.

My time for the Corporate Cup dropped to 22 minutes then to 20 minutes 10 seconds.

I took a creative writing course, completing the diploma with a book about running, published by Hesperian Press in Victoria Park.

I ran numerous 10 km events and half marathons. I dropped my 10 km time to 40 minutes 30 seconds, and my half marathon – 21.1km – to 90 minutes 15 seconds.

Then I developed runner’s knee, painful, excruciating. I bought George Sheehan’s book, Medical Advice for Runners and looked up the section on runner’s knee.

George said the problem was usually foot-strike, easily fixed with the insertion of an orthotic to stabilise the foot. I had one custom made by a podiatrist in Claremont and the problem cleared up in a few days.

The running, either competitively at the weekends with the Masters or the Marathon Club, or socially with a group of friends at lunch time, lifted my spirits and I felt born again.

I felt really well and found excuses to run every day. I used the midday run as a tension-breaker, downloading any anger or frustration, returning to the office refreshed.

My former pals were all down at the pub enjoying steak and chips and cigars and beer. I was having a ham salad roll, an apple, and a diet coke.

I felt I could run for ever and my weight was between 69 and 70 kg. My resting pulse fell to 42.

Alex and my son, Leon, were most amused about this new me. Both continued to smoke cigarettes. I’d ask them not to smoke in the house, and Alex would say “Don’t nag.”

I’d open all the windows and let the sea breeze in, trying to clear the smoke. I thought to myself “If you are going to manage anybody, manage yourself.” I had resolved never to smoke again.