Week 40: Run of Many Ascents- Highgate Hill to Morning After (32km, 3hrs 24min)

I am late writing about this week’s run.  Like all people who have suffered through physical torture, I have needed some separation from the agonizing experience before I could re-live it on paper.  Perhaps the process of writing it down will prove cathartic and help me into a happier place.  The red wine is, otherwise, helping.
It all began with my Pollyanna-like blind confidence in deferring to the Husband to plan the trail needed to expeditiously complete the last big hurdle en-route to the marathon:  the 32 kilometre training run.  One might suggest that 21 years of marriage and many experiences of being ‘extended’ (lost) on unusual hiking trails would have aroused me to show greater interest in my fate.  Emma, my trusted trainer of two weeks ago, mysteriously had to travel to Victoria when I mentioned The Husband was planning the run.  Bronwyn chose to venture out on her own session with her good husband when I mentioned The Husband was planning the run.  Caitlyn decided a sleep was in order when I mentioned The Husband was planning the run.  I was oblivious to what, on reflection, appeared obvious to others and blithely embarked on the ROMA training run – the Run of Many Ascents.   The Husband was really very kind, offering to accompany me, and, after the passage of much time and the drowning of some memories, I am grateful for his commitment to my goal.  During the activity, however, I felt no such affection towards the “coach”.
Rather than recounting kilometre after sweaty, despondent kilometre (of which much is a blur) I will provide a brief summation of the experience:
• I set the alarm for 4am at the insistence of the “Coach” to accommodate a small breakfast of weetbix, muesli and honey
• The morning was absolutely stunning and, I find myself surprised at how much I am enjoying the quiet peace of the wee early hours.
• The Husband took an early lead and remained, annoyingly, 10m in front of me, I believe, in an effort to rally me along.  It had a contrary effect and made me feel like I was moving too slowly and failing.
• After the third or fourth hill (I lost count!), I gave up on my personal pace goal, accepting that this was really about survival and getting to the end with my soul intact.
• At kilometre 10, I suggested he might like to run ‘with me’ or a little behind, providing a much preferred emotional advantage.  At least I wouldn’t have to look at him, looping around waiting for me to catch up, looking so bouncy and chirpy.
• I’ve seen what’s behind the freeway wall on the Centenary Motorway and it’s not pretty when you’re running 32km. It’s quite a steep climb with false summits. My suspicions, that he was attempting to kill me were aroused when we entered a section of cycleway that was sign-posted  ‘no pedestrians’
• What nearly broke me was the Zig Zag trail from 17 mile Rocks Park to the Oxley highlands, followed closely by another valley and hill climb:  at least in NSW they provide a steam train for the Zig Zag trail.  I perambulated through the glorious steep wilderness while despairing for flatness.
• The trial of lemon flavoured goo was a success and it did not lead to any of the unfortunate side effects sometimes mentioned by experienced runners. I did feel a positive energy effect after consumption at 10 and 20 kilometres.
• After being lost in the Mountains and the Wilderness, I began to recognise ny surrounding as we passed the half-way mark and turned towards the lowlands and the river loop around Graceville and Tennyson.
• The hills eased to river flats and I found myself with a little bit of reserve to pass through kilometre 24-28 with relative comfort.  The Husband was last sighted around 26, calling out to keep going and he would see me at the café destination. He wasn’t looking so chipper at that point.
• While shuffling up Gladstone Road hill, I suspect I cast a sorry looking shadow, furtively hoping the walkers and cyclists who passed me appreciated I was at the end of 30km and not just 3.
• I thankfully reached the Morning After café and my husband, who had ingeniously and maybe considerately run past home and collected Caitlyn and the car.

Poached eggs

The Morning After Café is a new addition to the West End café scene and has a modern street appeal, with smart décor and layout.  The menu suggests something a little different with some reasonably priced options, but a hint of pretention with its ‘cultured’ butter and ‘unrefined’ granola and a waiter who exuded a certain air.  The coffee drinkers were positive about their brews but there was some cons for me with this place.  The Husband ordered simple and tasty poached eggs on toast with cultured butter and tomato relish ($9). He was happy with his choice.  My eggs benedict with cotechino (Italian sausage), spinach and hollandaise ($17.50) was a little underwhelming.  The poached eggs were overdone and the sausage was very salty.  The dish looked a little over priced for what was presented. Caitlyn had sourdough toast with Fig Jam ($8) as her second breakfast.
The Lamborghini Gallardo circuiting the block looking for The Parking Place in front of the café symbolised the feel of the Morning After Café: Nice presentation and great looking waiter and food, but it feels too try-hard in the more Citroen duex chevaux, hippy, happening West End neighbourhood.  Time will tell whether their clientele will evolve to suit the café or whether the café will evolve to suit their neighbourhood.

Eggs Benedict

Toast and jam