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It is somewhat of an anonymous fact, not through design, that I have been coaching and training would-be runners at the grass roots level for years now. There have been too numerous drunken binges on my part to assign a number to all the morons that I have nurtured from total incompetent assclowns into superior athletes, who are still assclowns. I have asked for no compensation, although God knows I need it, save that each athlete when receiving their trophy he/she or it (I could never tell with Mutola), silently utter four special words, "Snorks, you the Man!"
Many moons ago, one runner approached me unwise in the ways of the world and eager to step out and begin his training. It may come as a surprise to you that our very own Australian Marathon Champion, Mr Daniel Green, aka Greeny was that runner. Of course I use the term runner very loosely indeed. Greeny was even greener then his name suggests but had a fire in his eyes that cold water couldn't quench. Personally I thought he was eating way too much chilli.
Greeny approached me, "Snorks, I've heard you have had some success coaching and shaving significant time off your runner's performances." I nodded. As a coach/trainer I'm not big into talking to the athlete in question. I find waving a handgun around works better.
Greeny continued, "I'm interesting in engaging you for my quest to run a sub fifty minute Canberra Times fun run." I nodded again, thinking that there's probably an empty barstool at the King-O for me to occupy while this wanna-be goes away. Unfortunately that fire in his eyes wasn't too many nights on the chilli. He was dead serious! I finally relented and agreed to offer up some advice. Perhaps I'd change my name to Houdini!
However, Greeny had to place a caveat on his training for this elusive goal.
"There is only one or two significant constraints you should keep in mind", he said. You know that sensation when someone holds a knife to your testicles? Well I know it anyway. That sensation seemed to have grasped me in my $600 Armani pants. "I am not willing to do more than two runs a week of six kilometres and I have no heart". Mmmmm………perhaps I could locate a roving police car and piss on it and then they can nightstick me unconscious.
Greeny wasn't finished though, "I am however willing to leverage off any artificial substances you might like to recommend, based on you're personal experiences of course." Perhaps the details of that little discussion can be left for another day. For now, I needed to stop waving the gun and start talking.
"Greenmeister, I'm hearing you and I can help. Firstly, my coaching successes are far more widespread then you think. Not only have I taken numerous Gallo Walkers onto the path of redemption and a smaller arse, I have also been linked to Lance Armstrong's reign of the Tour de France. I helped build a small supplement company named BALCO in the US with a good friend named Vic Conte. You have probably never heard of them? They will be around for years and years distributing supplements and providing meaningful and sound advice to elite athletes." I could tell straight away that Greeny was awestruck with what he was hearing. I have this affect on people, mostly women.
"Marion Jones and T Monty work in my stable. I must remember to tell them to talk with Vic. El G owes me everything except his failure at both Olympic finals. If he doesn't win in Athens I might start coaching Alan Webb, someone has to reduce that head of his. Mo Greene may be GOAT (Greatest of All Time) but I'm GCOAT (Greatest Coach of All Time)."
"I think I have proven my point. I have the skills and know-how to take any pathetic half-arsed numb skull off his/her couch and get them running." All this stuff was affecting Greeny in the most profound way and judging by the smell, he was performing a good deal of trouser painting because of it. But now I hadn't finished my chat, I was on a roll and the words were flowing. "Greeny, I have a gift. Of course if that gift were ever found by the law enforcement agencies of this state I would be imprisoned faster than you could say Human Growth Hormone. It's about time that you finally sort out my advice on this matter as I, clearly, hold the cards - syringes, EPO, etc - that you do not possess. I am so glad that you mentioned that you are not willing to do more than two times six kilometres runs per week. It was never my intention to inflict such a harsh and heavy workload on your body. Clearly, recovery is the most important aspect of any training program and I agree that five days of recovery per week seems ample. For most of that time, spend it in bed. Ice the legs and keep up with the fluids. Abstain from sex and, for God's sake, stop masturbating."
The boy was smiling from ear to ear now and I knew that I had my student transfixed on my, almost, hypnotic voice. Hence I continued to offer up my knowledge.
"However, if you really do want that elusive sub fifty, here's what I suggest. Funnily some people consider it cheating. I call it being an entrepreneur.
- get a body double; let him race and sleep in;
- cut the course; ie start at the eight kilometres mark and run in through the finish;
- ride a bike; for safety still cut the course so start at the five kilometre mark;
- put yourself on the heart donor list; some dying ninety-five year old is bound to have a better heart then yours;
- use a fanny pack; or
- enter as a bed contestant; you know the six guys pushing a bed with you in it; you get to sleep the whole way."
"However, if this is not possible, I offer up some other remedies.
- retire now; you have achieved everything possible in your running career
- place a shotgun to your head and end it now. I'll carry your Remains to your sub fifty, trust me."
Clearly, Greeny grasped the meaning of my speech, perhaps better then I did. It was a few moons later in Chicago of 2001 that Greeny ran 2:20:17 in the Marathon. At the finish, if you could have sat very close to him, you would have been able to hear four discerning words.
"Snorks, you the Man!"
