Beach to Basin

If this tropical cyclone settles then tomorrow we will be running the Beach to Basin. However, this year I feel a bit like I’ve cheated myself, only signing up for the 6.8km run. I have a good excuse – the kids will be running it too, excepting Missy, who, for reasons which will become clear further down, has been booked in to stay at her nana’s.

Last year after ‘turning myself out’ like a horse for the winter and much of the summer, I decided, with three weeks to go, to sign up and start training for the 10km event.

I also added pressure to myself by trying to beat my PB of 49 mins from the previous time five years earlier. But I had my sounds, a comfy pair of running shoes and three weeks training under my belt – everything was going fine. There was the usual flow of youngsters, using their initial burst of energy – Hare and the Tortoise-style – only to run out of steam further down-track and look up surprised when passed by the same geriatrics, pacing themselves, who they had shot past earlier.

Along I plodded making good time, when I rounded a corner and bumped into my daughter with her dad. Unbeknown to me, they had entered the 6.8km version at the last minute and she was not looking too happy about it.

Oh dear. As a mother I was torn. Do I stop and console her or carry on to try and keep time? I settled for a quick hug and some encouraging words before, feeling terrible, carried on around the bridge where, with my finger on the button to start my ‘home-straight song’, I bumped into her twin brother who was in fine spirits. So here I had a dilemma – did I push on for the sake of making the finish line in the allocated time or ditch the PB and slow the pace to take this rare opportunity to run with my son? I looked at his delighted face and it was an easy decision. We ran side-by-side for another kilometre – by far the best part of the journey - before he started to lag to a walk and, good-naturedly, encouraged me to go on.

Again I felt terrible leaving him behind but I looked back and he gave me a big thumbs up so, finally putting on my home-run song, ran the rest of the .5km duration, coming in three minutes late, before running back to encourage him over the finish line.

Big bro had already finished before me and, later, Missy whimpered over the finish line so it was reunions all-round. That split-second decision to forego beating a silly PB created a special moment in time for me and my boy and one we will never forget, the photographer having captured it.

Here’s hoping to create a few more tomorrow.