The Coolangatta Gold Part VI, Works of Art

"There's gonna be heaps of people at Burleigh when you get off the board. They're gonna be cheering and tellin' ya ta pick it up. You're gonna wan'ta take off like a greyhound toward Miami. DO NOT SPRINT! Back OFF! Even if you think you're going too slow - build into this thing. You've made it this far, don't blow out your legs in the first kilometer of a 10km run. DON'T SPRINT!"

Again, Phil Clayton's words reverberated in my mind. I trotted into the transition area, grabbed my sunnies, gels, bloks, and water from BJ, and made my way back down toward the waterline - which was a much shorter trek than anyone would have liked. Ahead of me sat Miami headland, the only geographic interruption between Burleigh and Surfers, a quick stairmaster set before continuing on to the remaining 9km.

Up the winding walk-path. Bear right. Switchback to the left. Repeat. Waiting at the top was an event volunteer, red shirt ablaze under the high-hanging sun, signaling to another volunteer at the bottom of the other side of the hill to hold any pedestrian traffic. A concrete staircase, not wide enough to walk side-by-side with another person, weaved its way down the north side of Miami Hill. I was greeted at the base of the stairs with a few smiles from those who had been held up by the volunteers - a constant reminder of the thorough warmth of this place.

Back into the sand and back into rhythm. There would be no hard pack for this run. The tide had pushed up high enough so that the only straight-line run would be run in a mixture of soft sand and the upper fringe of semi-firm pack. a lower-leg killer. But this was it. Nothing left to save for.

I continued to "build" into the run, using the widely spaced lifeguard towers as short-distance visual targets; allowing me to focus on what was immediately in front of me - not getting lost in how far away the Q-1 Tower(and the finish) was. Each tower gave me a different point of technique for my mind to focus on. Head up. Shoulders back. Bring the knees up a bit. Add a little to the kick. Check back in with the shoulders, down and back. Breath. With every Surf Club that came, my stride opened a little more.

I had my handlers scheduled to meet me twice during this run. At the first stop, Mike and BJ gave me a small package of jelly beans, and a small bottle of flattened, and watered-down, coke. I still had half a package of energy/electrolyte bloks tucked in the side of my suit - giving me constant small doses of electrolytes. The jelly beans and coke - instant bursts of sugars, and caffeine (gives caffeine "kick", but also lessens perception of pain and delays fatigue onset).



As I progressed along the course, I tried to familiarize myself with the surroundings, looking for landmarks or buildings that I recognized from workouts I had done when I last trained at Kurrawa. Surfers Paradise is full of Tall buildings; apartments, hotels, offices, etc.. The farther away, however, the more scarce these tall buildings become. Two Apartment buildings jutted into the sky well away from the Surfer's skyline. A broad, yellow, vertical line ran the height of one of the buildings, visually separating the ocean-viewing apartments from the backside. It was set just inland of Kurrawa. Almost home.

There is a strange sensation that is "felt" when you push the body beyond pain. All athletes know the, all-to-familiar, "burn" in their muscles from the release and build up of lactic acid. And, any athlete who has had the misfortune of suffering an impingement injury also know the "piercing" pain associated with it. Maybe it is simply a tool utilized by my brain, unconsciously, to prevent some unknown (to me) consequence. But in the midst of the final leg of a 46.65km race, there was no real Pain - but "Hot" sensations flashing around my body.

As I approached my home club of Kurrawa, I could see some of my teammates shuffling around on their lifesaving patrols. Before I reached the drink station in front of the club, a voice cut through the monotonous, melodic, soundtrack of the surf and breeze. (In a very thick Welsh accent) "Com'on team America!!!" If my smile had faded, it was instantly renewed into an ear-to-ear grin. It was Jimmy, one of my flatmates from last season. He was a sprinter & flagger from Wales, and was working his patrol hours. Not un-like-minded with myself he shouted some abuse into my ear and gave me the "gitty-up" slap as I ran past. This was quickly followed by about one or two, dozen, cups of cold water being heaved at me by my clubmates (Thanks Pete). Laughter ensued. I gave them a shout back and, refreshed from the cold-shock, turned up the rate.

Three figures came into sight. They had passed me earlier and I had now moved back up to them. Broady Surf Club blurred beside me - and the first man with it. I looked for him to make an effort to hang on - nothing. Two more to go - at least. The white tents of the Start/Finish area became recognizable, and I was now into full stride - no turning back or turning off.

Northcliffe. A singlet in front of me. Next to me. Gone. No more water. No gels. Just the finish. And one more White TYR singlet (a relay runner). The gap continued to shrink in the final 500meters. Sweat, for the first time in the race, began to roll past my eyes, and fall off my lips - their salty taste a reward for my efforts. A grin cemented itself on my face.

With 100meters to go, the sand turned soft, feet buried completely on every stride. The turnover went up. The speed went down. The gap shrunk to 15meters as we ran uphill to the finish. A final push. There would not be a last-second rundown in Prefontaine fashion. The white singlet would hold me off. But there was no spoiling this moment.

Crossing the finish line - 5-hours 4-minutes and 46.65km later - its was done. The 2008 NIB Coolangatta Gold had claimed its share of victims - but I was not of that stock. My body and mind had carried me the distance. To my surprise, my legs felt as though they could have gone another 10km - although, I was very glad it was done. A gorgeous finisher's medal was placed around my neck, followed by two volunteers pouring cold water over my back. Mike and BJ were there. Jeff was there. Hugs, thank yous, congratulations were exchanged.

The finish area had the buzzing atmosphere of a NASCAR Finish, a dance party in the sand, a University Graduation, all under a clear Sapphire-blue sky in Surfer's Paradise Australia. (try piecing that one together in your head). Phil McGibbon was providing interviews and commentary with a local radio DJ from Hot Tomato. They Pulled me aside, and asked me what it was like being the only American to participate in this Iconic event.

I shouted out the event sponsors, gave thanks for the opportunity to come down and race with the best, and said that I was stoked to take part in such an Iconic and Historic event. Then the DJ asked if I would return for next year's Gold. After a slight dramatic pause, a simple yes exited my mouth.



This was my appetizer. My first hit. I was hooked. A race is a work of art that people can look at and be affected in as many ways they’re capable of understanding.

~Steve Prefontaine

This was not my masterpiece, but, rather, my first brushstrokes in seeking something bigger than myself. There will be more.

No race of this magnitude can be pursued - let alone completed -without an immense amount of support. First, I must thank my creator.
Then the list begins:
My Family who have always supported me in everything I have ever done.
NIB, TYR, Jeep, and all the race sponsors for putting on an amazing event.
Kurrawa Surf Club: Phil Clayton, Pete Milburn, Syb and Jess.
My Handlers - BJ and Mike, you guys rock!
The Janes Bro's.
Hayley and your crew.
All the boys & girls at the embassies.
Pete Stirling and Macon Brock @ Watermans Sunscreen.
Erin Howarth and John Boes @ TYR.
Mark @ Dolphin Surfcraft.
Surf Lifesaving Australia and Surf Lifesaving Queensland.
The South Bay Surf Club.
The Los Angeles County Fire Department Lifeguards
And everyone that I have ever raced with, or trained with, or talked with...you have all had an impact on me and my journey.

Thank you.


What will your Masterpiece Be?