Brisbane awakes to greet this particular morning with a sense of awaiting anticipation. The roads at 5:00am bear not the distinguishable emptiness and silence of a normal Sunday morning whose drowsy awakening is interrupted only occasionally by the slow traffic of the drunken drone insipidly crawling down the motorway… rather this morning, a steady hum of cars and motorbikes fill the city streets en route to the Bridge-to-Brisbane starting line.

The walk required from the car parks alone adds at least another 1.5km to the 12km annual race but somehow the joviality of spirits and liveliness of atmosphere makes the distance hardly consequential to one who has braved the cold of early morning. The arid landscape is coloured by droves of runners, joggers and leisurely striders filtered across the roads, footpaths and medium strips with more and more emerging from around each bend in the road and from unsuspecting bushes and fences.

Even in walking from the carpark, one is assailed by a sense of being part of something far greater and more unified than they could possibly imagine. What we cannot know is that at this premature stage in our journey – such a thought or feeling was diminutive compared to the sight that awaited us over the final hill. A long army of colours thronged like a Chinese dragon from the Bridge Starting Line, like a live creature it pulsated with impatient waiting while the early morning sun danced upon its surface like ripples of gold. 31,000 people… the fit and the unfit amongst us, the Australian, the ethnic, the mother, the daughter, the competitor, the leisurely walker, the fireman, the poet, the businessman, the actor, the parent, the child, in the words of our Commonwealth Games Motif – ‘together, we are one’.

A loud horn sounds above a breathlessly awaiting crowd; the Chinese Dragon begins to dance. Watched from afar, it appears a queer creature that moves slowly up the steepened incline. Its movements are uniformed and unfaulting and its back ripples like a flag caught on a strong gust of wind. Within moments however, this illusionary creature begins to divide itself, faster runners edge ahead away from the mass and the long colourful dragon becomes a fragmented mass of what may look to the observer as ‘small coloured ants’ streaming over the Gateway Bridge.

The 10th Annual Bridge to Brisbane race presented us all with an unequalled opportunity of partaking in ‘life’... relishing the scenery, being awestruck by the magnitude of possibilities that await such a crowd, cherishing the moment, challenging ourselves to embrace that ‘a little bit further’ mentality – to test our limits, to test the strength of our resolve, and above all – to enjoy the diversity of people, countries, views and backgrounds that were represented in this rare tapestry of unified focus. Despite overshadowing ailments, I improved on my time from last year and finished the race at 1hr, 28 minutes. I hope the Bridge to Brisbane becomes for me, one of those ‘traditions’ which I can look forward to with enthusiasm each year and despite its familiarity, continue to be inspired by the stimulation of the race. 5 years ago

The final race results were released in Sunday’s daily paper and mine were as follows:

12 km in 1hr 38mins (averaging 8.16min kms)

Placement: 9083rd place / 25000

I was a few minutes off my recorded time last year but considering the circumstances, I’m fairly happy with the result. Out of our 11 corporate entries, I came in at 8th Place. 6 years ago

Tom, our product development manager has just elevated himself into the Queensland Limelight. Dressed up as a ‘Duff Beer’ Bottle, Tom ran the entire 12km race in approx 1 hr, 10 mins and was featured on every major news channel which covered the famous brisbane fun run as well as his picture being a one-page feature in Sunday’s ‘Sunday Mail.’

2006 Bridge to Brisbane Fun Run will indeed be a day to remember. His appearance has already sparked interest from many of our customers, few of whom recognised him when he appeared on the news on Sunday night but whose conservative opinions of the Scotsman have now changed somewhat :) 6 years ago

The Bridge to Brisbane race started this morning at 7:00am, well, rather the race started at that time. A 4:30am start was a prerequisite for the day’s event and though it was an effort to arise at such an ungodly hour, we were each pumped up with adrenalin enough to carry it through.

Thousands of participants lined the Gateway Bridge like thousands of ants in uniformed procession and murmurs through the crowd made promises of records being broken, best times being recorded and a great time to be had by all. There were the corporate entrants with their matching green or yellow t-shirts bearing their company’s logo, there were parents with prams and eighty year old ladies with a spark in their eyes long removed from their younger counterparts. In our party, a Jet Jackson look-alike started murmurs in the crowd and an adult size ‘Duff’ Beer bottle captured amazed looks from all the passersby.

The rest of our team (11 in total) wore matching cool-dri shirts and before the race had begun, competitive sparring matches bided the time between the nervous and adrenalin filled teammates. I love events such as this for they have the power to unify a city. 25,000 people from all walks of life, representing nations, various demographics and a myriad of age groups with one single ideal in common – the willingness to run or walk for a cause. There were within the group the young philosophers who observed that such an event would present the ideal opportunity for a terrorist attack, the old woman who runs past me with such energy and vitality that I could only hope for, the budding young runners whose grand old age of 4 or 5 proved no obstacle for running the 12km stint; they darted through the crowd with youthful energy and a hundred or so metres after a sudden dash, one would hear them calling out to their parents to ‘hurry up.’ There were the elite and the not so elite runners, the old and the young, gay and straight, corporate and working class, overweight and fit. However running side to side – none of these differences proved to bear any consequence, we were all on the same playing field unified in the same cause.

My own performance was lacking somewhat however due to the circumstances I believed I performed quite well. Some of our party had decided upon walking the duration of the course and I had agreed so as not to aggravate my injuries that I would join them. However I was not yet a mile into the run when my feet were getting anxious to excel. It’s hard to walk when you can run, to do average when you know you can do so much better. And so, disregarding the caution and pleas of my fellow teammates, I strode on ahead and found myself on the open road once again.

Running alone is I find a very freeing exercise for one finds themselves accountable to no-one, limited by no impedances other than our own limitations, encumbered by no small talk nor distraction. As well as the competitors there are also other city folk out to enjoy the morning race. We run past spectators sipping French latte’s at roadside coffee houses, and those who stand on the balcony of their apartments looking out upon the moving stream of people, a few go even so far as to set up beach chairs on the side of the road. As we run by they smile and cheer us on as only impartial supporters can do, children wave flags and marshal’s vary in their responses – some looking past us indifferently as though it were just another job to do, yet others rose above the standard set by their counterparts and cheered incessantly as though they were supporting their country at the Olympic Games.

The pace picked up at the last kilometer as spirits were high with the finish line full in view. It’s amazing that no matter how tired, exhausted and empty we may feel – when the large ‘FINISH’ banner is full in view, we feel ourselves being empowered by an inner strength that causes us to propel with newfound force. We sprint towards that line, that conclusion as though we were running for life itself and amidst the cheering and crowd of witnesses; we feel a sense of ultimate achievement. Everyone in the team exceeded their expectations and not a single person felt that their soreness of muscles was not compensated fully by the glory of their achievement.

I cannot guarantee that such high spirits will extend to tomorrow when the signs of disability start to show, however overall I think it was an excellent achievement and a wonderful day had by all. I did not come close to beating my record last year but in light of the circumstances, I’m happy with whatever my overall ranking will be. 6 years ago

The Infamous 12km Bridge to Brisbane Race, that feat that is forever embedded in the fabric of my most pained memory has reared its head once again beckoning for a challenger. This time walking must suffice for I cannot risk further damage nor infuriate my present injuries.

I have not yet gained permission from my physiotherapist to compete in the race however… I fear that even if I was discouraged from entering I would be too headstrong to heed her advice. There are 12 of us entering the race together, three of whom will be walking with me and the others whom I suppose will be competing neck to neck for the duration of the race. Already there are rumours and empty threats colliding against one another – mostly by egocentric men who have more confidence in their words than they truly do in their ability to compete. Already a handful of so-called ‘would be winners’ have dropped out of the competition to avoid a sorely bruised ego when someone else runs across the finishing line ahead of them.

Sunday August 6 will be another day to remember I am sure. There will undoubtedly be more injury suffered than simply ‘bruised egos,’ if not on the day itself – surely the day thereafter. I’m looking forward to it! 6 years ago