Open Writing

I had planned to do quite a lot of running in retirement but never seemed to have the time or inclination to run more than 50 to 70 km a week.

I ran on Wednesday nights with the Marathon Club, a regular 14km around the river, or sometimes a half marathon up to the university and back. After the run, I’d have a couple of glasses of champagne at the club bar then go to Spaghi’s in South Perth, for a pizza bianca, with a spicy tomato sauce, an entrée of cacciatore – the fried Italian spicy sausage – and then calamari griglia, a grilled spiced squid, all with a bottle of red wine. Usually there’d be one or two other runners with me and we became quite well known and good friends with the staff, and the proprietor and his wife.

At weekends, I’d run alternatively with the Marathon Club or the Masters Athletics group.

I won a lot of age group medals on the basis of my fitness and commitment to training. I’d run and just let things happen, without being mindlessly competitive. I never thrashed myself and backed off my training when my left hip started to ache – a red light warning system for a hip replacement to come but I didn’t realise this at the time.

I went to the United States to run through the northern woods in the fall, to experience the colours in the trees and the delicious cool air. I thoroughly enjoyed the Philadelphia half marathon and was fifth in my age group, though not running particular well. It was an attractive run along the banks of the Delaware River.

I ran informally through the woods, through the winter resting grounds of the bald eagle. Then I came back to Australia and ran a half marathon, a 10km road race, and a cross country at Alice Springs, where it was very hot and runs started early to avoid excessive discomfort. I won minor medals in all events.

While I was in Alice Springs I arranged for an Aboriginal woman to take me walkabout through the bush to identify interesting plants and explain their uses. This was fascinating.

She showed me various edible plants, how to find water by digging in the sand – the trick being where to dig – and how to clear the nostrils of a child on a cold morning. They do it with smoke from a commonly found bush.

An Aboriginal man called Kelly, who used to play football for West Perth, showed me how to throw a boomerang. It came back very strongly when I stood correctly and threw it into the wind.

I found a marvellous spiritual quality at Alice Springs and could see why the indigenous people regard it as a sacred place. They used to meet at a certain time each year to feast on caterpillars – at the place of the caterpillar dreaming.

I went to Gateshead to run the 10km cross country for Australia in the World Masters Games but didn’t do well because I had been suffering from a chest infection that I’d picked up in America.

While at the world games, I stayed with my brother, Fred, in his house at Birtley. I trained by running around the back streets, and sometimes was joined by a group of small boys who ran with enthusiasm but weren’t fit.

I visited the graves of my grandfather and grandmother Hughes. They were neglected and overgrown with weeds. I tidied them up then spoke to the superintendent of the cemetery.

He asked me where I was from and what I was doing there, then mentioned that he was a runner, and liked the half marathon. He was in his late 50s. When I asked his half marathon time, he mentioned something over two hours.

I said to him, “That’s disgraceful. You wouldn’t get a place in our club events with a time like that.”

I told him I was nearly 65 and could still run a half marathon under 1 hr 40 minutes, notwithstanding the odd hill and the heat.

I suggested he introduce two tempo sessions into his weekly training program to get his basic pace up. The trick to running a good half marathon is to train regularly at a fast pace over 5 km, making sure you get an adequate recovery.

The man thanked me and promised he would take a special interest in the grandparents’ resting place.

Later that day when I was walking along the street at Birtley, a man crossed the road to speak with me. He looked vaguely familiar but I couldn’t place him.

“I recognised you immediately,” he said. “I knew you were in town. I’m your mother’s cousin, Benny Hughes.”

I was pleased to meet him though I never followed up on the encounter.

Back in Western Australia, I ran quite well at Bunbury to win a regional age group title in the half marathon.

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