"The city itself became a hive of running culture. Clubs and crews, teams and solo runners, friends and strangers, all folding into one another."

Not Just Another MARATHON.

The Majors are the top tier of this sport. London, Tokyo, Berlin, New York, Boston, Chicago. And now, Sydney. To sit alongside them means to sit alongside decades of history and legacy. Things that money can’t buy, but that Sydney proved it deserves.

The city itself became a hive of running culture. Clubs and crews, teams and solo runners, friends and strangers, all folding into one another. Yes, running can feel crowded right now with new people and new brands everywhere, and that was on display this weekend too. But Sydney also showed the very best of the sport. Thirty-five thousand people who had each given hundreds of hours to the same event. The collective excitement. The nerves. The hopes for PBs or simply to finish. And the shared accomplishment at the line; whether celebrating with old friends, or with someone you’d just met at kilometre 39 walking through a water station. (NB. that one might have just been me.)

NOT JUST AN EXPO.

Expos aren’t usually our thing. They absolutely haven’t been my thing. In cycling they barely exist, and in running they can feel like something to endure, not enjoy. Sydney was different. The expo became the entry point into Marathon weekend; more than a transaction to collect your bib, it felt like a transition from everyday life into something bigger.

Black Sheep’s goal was to create a mini boutique. Small in size, big on experience. We sold out of our Sydney singlet by day two. Standing for twelve hours wasn’t our favourite thing, I lost my voice by Friday night (for those that know me will know how little I speak), but the energy of the people that came through made it worth it. We underestimated the event, but we kinda love that we did. Next time we’ll be back, with a bigger space, bigger selection, and ready to showcase everything about our brand and its community.

NOT JUST ANOTHER SHAKEOUT.

I’ll admit it: there are too many shakeout runs. Even the word feels tired. But when you’ve built a genuine community, there aren’t many better ways to bring people together before a race. And if you don’t like a free tee, you might want to check yourself.

Pyrmont gave us everything we wanted. Literally thousands of runners, familiar and new, feeding off the kind of collective energy you only get in the days before a marathon. It was cold as tits, but it was the perfect start to the weekend. And for anyone planning shakeouts — or shitting on shakeouts — here’s a hot tip: do it during a Park Run. It boosts your numbers and provides some epic photos.

Not just any old run group

And then there was our little crew. The self-titled, not-incorporated, definitely-not-official Teneriffe Trotters. Ten of us, running together for the better part of eight years. Friday thresholds. Sunday long runs. Everything else on our own.

We’ve become close in ways the running almost doesn’t explain. Weddings, kids, tough moments, big moments. Mostly, just being there for each other. The miles are now just the excuse.

Sydney was a proud one for the Trotters. A top-30 finish for Kieren Perkins. One of the fastest age-adjusted marathons in the country for Myles Burfield. Every single one of us under three hours. And I’ll never forget racing over the Harbour Bridge, and by the Opera House, with mates. Genuine goosebump moments.

I didn’t bluff the marathon

The ego wanted to believe in a sub-2:20 at the start of the year. It was never realistic, especially as I have continued my Hyrox-inspired midlife crisis. Quietly, I held a goal of somewhere near 2:30, and I was on track until around 35 km. That’s when both calves blew, almost in unison, like they’d been waiting for the moment to humble me and my ego.

I crossed the line, not with the time I wanted, but with the kind of honesty the marathon always delivers. It doesn’t let you bluff. It tells you exactly where you are. And that’s why it keeps pulling me back.