For years, I have managed to successfully dodge the City to Surf.
It’s not that I don’t want to do it. It’s just that it seems like such hard work. Then there’s the cost involved and having to register and all this pre-planning and training that goes into it. Better to stay at home on a Sunday, sleep in and wake up to a warm cup of joe I thought. But something changed this year in 2008, the Year of the Rat, the Year of the Potato, the Year of Sanitation, the Year of Languages, the Year of Planet Earth. Something inside me burned to complete the City to Surf. Maybe not the half marathon but certainly the 12km. (Also, this year the company offered to pay for registration, a cap and a t-shirt. There is nothing I like better than a free lunch. In fact, I can’t say no to one.) With that, I was registered, along with four unwitting colleagues who I pressured into coming with.
We registered two weeks prior to the event and completed absolutely no training in the lead up to the walk/run. We agreed, as a group to walk the race at a leisurely pace, crossing the finish line in tandem. But things don’t always go to plan.
On Sunday August 31, perhaps the coldest morning on record, we donned our race gear and caps and set off for St Georges Terrace. An assortment of oddities assembled there at the starting line. There were people dressed as gorillas, native Americans, wolves, Smurfs. There were young nubiles dressed in the tiniest running gear money could buy. There were people branded with every logo of every company in Perth. There were people completely, wholly and utterly inappropriately attired, for example, a man in thongs and denim and a woman in canvas flats, mini shorts, a white belt and halter-top. Finally, there were the real contestants. The runners. The ones in matching sets with iPods strapped onto their bulging biceps. The ones who would complete the race in just under an hour. And then, there was us.
The first kilometre was easily the longest. So many people walking together, it looked like a scene from a disaster movie and felt like a mosh pit at a music festival. Which is why we decided to pick up the pace and though we had faithfully promised not to run, run we did. This is how we lost two of our group. The remaining three of us walked and ran the next 8 kilometres, trying to find our lost group members. Eventually, at kilometre 10 we found them. At kilometre 11 we broke into a run and, chest burning, feet blistering, body sweating, crossed the finish line.
Looking back, it wasn’t actually that long and it wasn’t actually that hard. With some training, I could even perhaps complete that sucker in an hour. Or maybe I could attempt the half marathon. If I start training now… a year in advance. But it seems like such hard work.
(2008 Year of the Potato. WTF?)
THRILLS & SPILLS
Level of difficulty: 4/5 Walk it, jog it, run it. You can't rollerskate it unfortunately.
Co-ordination: 3/5 Not hard
Fun: 2/5 Not so much fun. More like a challenge. Some uphill bits.
What to wear: joggers, tracksuit, running gear, cap. Women - bra. Absolutely no thongs or denim. Don't cheapen yourself.
What to bring: water. Unless you want water that appears to be taken from a BIN.
Where to go: From the city. To the surf.
Average cost: $30 to $40