Two years on in Mount Isa

While there I was silly enough to sign up for a beach fun run in Tramore near Waterford city where I was born.

It being New Year’s Eve, the water was freezing cold and I know that for a fact because several times the tide came rolling over my running shoes as we picked a pebbly path down the strand. 

It was fun in a wild weather running experience but I’ve had a bit of practice of that over the last two years – albeit from the other end of the temperature spectrum – in North West Queensland.

My job can be tough at times and there have been moments when I say to myself “what on earth are you doing here?”

But all it takes me is a Monday evening run up Telstra Hill and when I get to the top and look over over the rugged vastness below I think there is nowhere in the world I’d rather be at that moment.

I run most days of the week. I do it for the fitness and for the fact that it makes me feel good but also because it is the time the stresses of the day disappear completely.

I always come home refreshed – in spirit if not in body – and ready for whatever the world throws at me the next day.

And there is usually a lot thrown at me.  Some good, some bad.

We get people through the door with their problems. They come to us because we are a port of last resort and they are getting no satisfaction anywhere else. Sometimes we are successful on their behalf and these are the best moments. Even if there is no story for the paper, there is a warm glow for having helped someone.

Other times are not so happy. We are a small team doing a lot of work and long hours – and mistakes are made. Doctors bury their mistakes. Lawyers jail theirs. But journalists publish theirs for all the world to see. We try to fix them quickly but sometimes our audience (or worse still the subject of our article) is unforgiving and angry and blast us for our “laziness” or our “stupidity” or God forbid, our “fake news”.

It’s hard at times to bite my tongue in this age of keyboard warriors with quick responses. But we soldier on.

There are many compensations. I get to meet everyone, I get to take lots of photos, I shoot video, I write stories, I get to understand people’s issues, I get invited to a lot of events, I get to know the town and the magnificent wider region.

Even the instant online responses can be gratifying. Not everyone wants to nail you. And to those people who have said nice things, you can’t believe how important that was. Usually good enough to get me smiling until the next battle with Telstra Hill.