After two years of Covid shitfuckery the mighty City to Bay is back and sign me up baby! This is South Australia’s biggest run in terms of how many people do it, and I’ve done it I’m not sure how many times but let’s say quite a few.

Since they introduced the half marathon a few years back, I’ve been doing that. Before that, I was one of those annoying fucks who runs the main 12km course from the city down to the beach, then turns around and runs back again and while that was more about logistics and not an intentional giant fuck you to the people still running down, it’s definitely a bit of both those things.

This year it’s been ark building weather in the lead up to the race and when I wake up at stupid O’clock to get ready because the half marathon starts at 6am and can I just say how fucking stupid that is as a start time, it’s absolutely belting down outside. I think about pulling the pin, but nah, fuck it, let’s do this.

I find a park not too far from the start line and walk over and whadda ya know, in a miracle it’s actually stopped raining. It’s still pre-sunrise and as I step off the curb onto what I assume is the road, my foot disappears into a pothole and OK, that’s really cold and really wet. If I’d been wearing regular shoes made on Earth I’d be pretty pissed off right about now, but I’m wearing my $7,000 Nike Carbon Fibre Cheat Shoes that are literally made from unicorn jizz, and after a few more steps they’re just miraculously dry again and Nike may use five year olds in sweat shops to make their shoes but fuck they’re good.

I of course decide I need a last minute toilet visit and just as I’m doing the toilet line up/time before the race starts ratio math, I hear someone say to use the toilets at the nearby Stamford Grand so I beeline there and can I just say, best. pre-race toilets. ever. I could get used to this.

And suddenly everything’s coming up Milhouse.

I wander over to the start line like a champion with a few minutes to spare and off we go. It’s still not raining, so other than dodging a few of the larger puddles on the road, it’s pretty smooth sailing. At the start line I heard someone say we’d have a tailwind on the way out but to take it easy in the first half and save your energy for the last half which is excellent advice that naturally I completely ignore. I mean, what if the wind dies down and you take it easy for nothing, right? Spoiler alert: It doesn’t die down.

I’ve basically taken off like a bat out of hell and am traveling a full 30seconds a km faster than my goal pace and decide to do that “well, let’s see what happens” race strategy even though I know full well what usually happens.

The crowd thins out pretty quickly which is nice, although it doesn’t stop some guy catching up to me and running about 2cm away from me and mate we literally have a three lane highway to run on and can you just fucking not? Just as I’m pondering whether I should try pick up my pace or at least move over he decides to do some weird arms out to the side stretch thing while he’s running and his left hand comes perilously close to my peen and I still can’t work out if maybe I missed the chance to earn (or spend) $20 because that was just fucking weird. In fact, if it hadn’t been so cold, I’m pretty sure he may have gotten the tip, and no, I’m not talking about a few bucks extra.

We’re at all of what feels like about the 900m mark (but was actually the 8km mark) when the race leader comes flying back past, a full 5kms in front of me and fuck. me. that’s fast.

We do a loop through the city where I take a selfie with a lady dressed as a, ah, sauce bottle and little do I know those few seconds might just cost me dearly later.

On the way back we pass some of the back runners and the guy who is coming dead last is literally running with the po po right behind him the entire way which cannot be ideal for your self esteem and mate, I salute you, you’re awesome. And tell him as much as I run past.

I catch up to a guy who asks if we’re at the 18km mark yet and when I tell him we’re still at 15.7kms he is not impressed and mutters something about there still being “five fucking kilometres to go” and mate, I hear ya.

I don’t take too many more pics on the way back because by this stage, my lack of fitness and training have come to say hi and it’s tough going.

I leap frog with one of my trail running mates who is doing the run-walk thing and when I take a selfie with him he laughs about how there’s no lions this time like when we did the same thing at The Fed, and little does he know oh yes there is at the finish line and I have the selfie to prove it.

It’s at this point I start doing the math and I see I’m an ever so slight chance to bring it in under 1:50 which would be miraculous and I put my foot down. Which is a dumb thing to say cause I’m running and that’s literally what’s involved. I pass some signs a local ad agency has made up and roll my eyes that they’ve used the word ‘jogging’ like it’s 1975 and sigh, how hard is it to run those signs past an actual runner and say, “hey is this a fucking idiotic thing to say or not?” because yes, it’s fucking idiotic.

But it’s head down bum up for me, not with Mr Stretch from earlier, but just trying to make good time because if there’s one thing I’ve learned is it’s easier to make up 10 or 15 seconds per km when you’re still 4ks out than trying to make up a minute in the last km.

With a few kms to go that headwind we’d been warned about decides to turn up and ok, yeah, old mate at the start was right, should have saved some energy for this. I pass the people from Nova radio trying to erect (he he, he he) their big blow up thing and wrangle it in the wind and will not be surprised if that thing is half way to kangaroo island by now.

I’m pretty sure I’m gonna make it under 1:50 no doubt thanks to the Unicorn Jizz Shoes because there’s no other logical explanation, when I see the 1km to go sign and fuck, I thought I only had about 700m and this is about to get interesting.

I power down Jetty Road like an Olympian, (although after watching the finish video it’s fair to say this may not be accurate as there are no gorillas in the Olympics) and some asshole pips me right on the finish line and Ok, sure, I’ve done that to other people and ain’t karma a bitch.

I lay down on the ground for a while before having a selfie with a lion and trying to remember where the fuck I parked my car.

And yep, came in under 1:50 by all of 20 seconds. Yay me.

 

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