You may think it’s hard enough getting one, two, or even three kids out of bed, organised, and motivated for the day. You might stress about one wandering off or being a bad influence on another. You might think they team up against you, and that if you give them an inch, they’ll take a mile. Now… times it by 20.

How frustrating it can be when you feel like you’ve repeated yourself a thousand times and still a boy thinks it’s a bright idea to leave for a run without running shoes. How often do you wonder, Should I let them learn the lesson, or step in now before it becomes a bigger issue later on? Now… times it by 20.

Once they’re finally mustered and in the right place, on the bus, and off to our destination, it’s a barrage of questions. Not just the classic “ Are we there yet? ” —no, you’re inundated with queries about every minute detail of the day, maybe even tomorrow, maybe even what movie we’re watching at the end of Term 4, or how long the sausages will be on the BBQ because “ I don’t want mine overdone .”

Well, finally, you’ve arrived. A sigh of relief—now the boys will set off on their run. You need to have your wits about you because these boys can be like roos in headlights. You know exactly where you don’t want them to go. You can scream it at the top of your lungs, but there’s always one who’s going to jump out and cause a prang.

You’ve checked them all in at the registration desk. They've had their final pre-run briefing. Now it’s time for the all-important scissors-paper-rock with the other staff to see who’s running and who’s manning the meeting point.

You’ve lost.

Now you’re tightening your laces and thinking, It can’t be too bad, a nice 2km jog would do me good.

You set off with the Junior Division, thinking you’ll drop back and join the Year 8s around the 1km mark—but before long, Max Bensley and Malakai Mafi are challenging you to a race. You can’t say no to a challenge.

2km done, you loop back to catch another group—but suddenly, Sam Miles appears out of a cloud of blue pigment and the sprint to the finish is on.

The finish—or so you thought.

The PLC staff are encouraging everyone to go around again. Off you trot, but to catch up to the other groups, you have to pick up the pace. Your leisurely 5:30 pace is now closer to 4:10.

Just as you’re contemplating going faster and if you’re close to cracking a 4-minute mile, you run into Zeph Kris , Alexander Le Lievre and Ulysses Mathis de Tarle , along with a bunch of other Year 8s walking the course. Relief. But also you feel a bit of encouragement to pick up the pace and start a jog is in order? No luck. You try again. Still no bite.

Before you can consider joining them for a casual stroll, Nicholas O’Dea and Jack Daly come flying past on their second lap. Once again, the challenge is thrown. Once again, the race is on.

4km—and then some—down. Before you can rest, Oliver Hindmarsh asks how many laps you’ve done. He’s on his third. Not to be outdone, you begin your third lap.

Now it’s getting tricky—dodging walkers, trying to take photos and videos of the boys spread out across the course. You want a rest. You want some water. And just as that thought crosses your mind, a friendly Loreto staff member with a garden hose soaks you to the bone.

Well… you did get the water you were wishing for.

Charlie Fox-Ashwin has a laugh watching you get hammered by the hose as he comes flying past. Once again… the challenge is on.

You can see the finish line. 6km down and the smell of BBQ is in the air. The Chartwells cooks confirm they’re minutes away from starting lunch service.

Duty calls—better go for another lap and let the boys know food is ready. No one wants to be around hangry teens.

You catch up to Zeph , Alexander and Ulysses —still casually meandering—you mention that food’s ready. And just like that… they’re gone. You’re not sure if it’s fatigue, if your legs have stopped working, or if these three just unlocked superhuman speed, but they’re on a beeline for that BBQ and you’re struggling to keep up.

Mental note: food = motivation.

8km done. An Opens cross country race, complete. Surely, now the boys are hungry.

Lunch is served—and it’s quiet. The boys are in groups, chatting, laughing, and comparing who got covered in the most paint. Peace, or so you thought.

You scan the area and spot a boy (who shall remain unnamed) about to take a big bite of his sausage sandwich. In the same hand, he holds a cup of red cordial—filled to the brim. The problem? He’s standing directly over your bag of clean clothes.

He takes a bite, and there’s a look of satisfaction on his face. What he hasn’t noticed is what you have. His cup is empty. Its contents? Now soaking your clean clothes. Red cordial or paint—your two options of clothes to wear on the trip back, take your pick.

Next up, the questions return.

“Can I have seconds?”
“When can I have seconds?”
“Is it the same food for seconds?”
“Can I run again?”
“Why do I have to socialise?”
“I don’t want to socialise!”

After lunch, you assume the role of sheepdog making sure no one wanders too far from the herd. You wonder why Max Bensley insists on probing every inch of the boundary you’ve set, just waiting for your gaze to drift.

You encourage the boys to talk to students from the other schools. You try your best to build their confidence and spark something in common. Then comes the call: the bus is here. Time to go.

Should be a breeze—after all, no one wanted to socialise with the other schools anyway, right?

Wrong.

Suddenly, everyone has a new best friend. No one wants to leave.

15 minutes of once again behaving like a sheepdog and rounding them up, and we’re off. Back to the College, with 30 minutes to breathe and prepare for what comes next.

Why do you do it?

To be honest, I look forward to it each week. Sure, there are other things I could be doing—but the cohort of boarders we have provides so much entertainment. They each bring a dynamic and character to the boarding family, and it’s genuinely fun getting to know them better every week.

While we’re all away next weekend, I’m already looking forward to our next adventure along the Great North Walk when we return.