Gold Coast Marathon, July 2016

If you ever want to run a truly fast, flat marathon in perfect conditions (not to mention one of the most beautiful parts of the planet), Gold Coast is the one for you. I've run it twice before, in 2012 and 2013, and can vouch for its flatness. As for fast - absolutely, it is. The course does have two small issues, though: a small but badly-placed hill at mile 20 and right after that a factor that will test your mental fortitude to the limit. Because during mile 20-21 you will run right past the turn-off to the finish chute, but on the other side of the road.

It's the ultimate teaser - you can see the finish area RIGHT THERE (and likely some faster runners already on their way to the finish line), but you're not allowed to turn because you still have 6 miles left to run. I remember going past it in 2012 and wanting nothing more than to just jump the median strip and be allowed to stop running (I didn't) and in 2013 I made it all the way to the turn at 35km/23 miles before losing my mind when the course turned directly into a strong headwind. Man, the memory of that moment still really smarts.

Anyway, my better-than-expected result at this year's Boston marathon, coupled with the other stuff that I've managed to achieve this year, prompted me to email the elite coordinator of Gold Coast and talk him into giving me an elite bib for this year. I'm no longer fast enough to qualify for all the bells and whistles, but a free entry and a bib with my name on it is good enough for me.

Beaches like this don't hurt either

The Training

Somehow this year I seem to have hit my sweet spot as far as training goes. Looking back on 2015 there was something slightly amiss - whether I was not running enough (doubtful) or whether I was actually slightly overtrained (entirely likely) - somehow it just didn't come together in the way that it all has this year. I'm at a stage now where my coach Benita and I have a really good, relaxed working relationship; quite often I need to adjust my schedule to fit in with work and the demands of family life, but she lets me figure it out and supplies me with a steady stream of workout suggestions without getting too bothered if I change things around.

So we agreed upon a plan of at least 2-3 weeks of peak training for Gold Coast that would allow enough time for recovery from Boston, some room for a few races and a sensible taper (this time definitely without the craziness of a fast half marathon the week before the big race, ha ha).

I've already posted the details of the 3 big weeks, which in fact culminated in an unexpectedly strong 10K race at the Mini Mosmarathon (not a marathon at all), but to recap briefly they were fairly high mileage - 88 miles (141km), 90 miles (145km) and 104 miles (167km) - and included some speed work, generally mid-week intervals and some tempo/MP running within a long run. After all that I dropped back to 77 miles per week for 2 weeks (123km) before a proper taper leading up to race weekend.

In the past I've struggled with tapering - as do many runners, so much so that the phrase "taper madness" and irritable Facebook posts including photos of strange animals (see below) are extremely common in both spring and autumn if you have as many running friends as me.

But this time around something was different. I was barely bothered by the fact that I was running less than half of my usual daily mileage. For once I seemed to be content with the justification that "less is more" during race week - could it be that I'm finally mastering the mental side of this racing thing? Perhaps I'm just getting better at existing in a state of denial, perhaps I'm getting lazier and actually like running less (gasp!) or perhaps I have been spending so much time acting calm and collected for the benefit of my anxious patients that I have actually become calm and collected myself? Whatever the reason, taper week was no biggie this time around. I found myself heading up to the Gold Coast in a state of happy anticipation, which is probably the best state to be in (other than Queensland).


Race Weekend

Gold Coast has become my Australian version of Boston - gradually I've collected a growing number of running friends over here and so my social calendar is rather full for the entire weekend. I spend the early hours of Saturday morning freezing half to death while watching the 10K race, before taking a gentle 5km jog with Steve and his running partner Shiloh - during which I demonstrate my marathon shuffle and they both die laughing - and then heading to the expo and finally lunch.

Saturday's highlight is the Legends Lunch, a gorge-on-pasta carb loading sort of event that features a very funny Steve Moneghetti as MC along with Pat Carroll, Rob de Castella and of course my coach (and arguably Australia's greatest ever long distance runner) Benita Willis.

It turns out to be one of the most enjoyable events I've ever been to on a marathon weekend; there are plenty of friendly runners with whom I can talk endlessly about running, Benita and Steve tell some awesome stories about racing at world-class level, Deek wants us all to "embrace the pain" of the marathon and explains the psychology of doing so in such a convincing manner that it actually sounds perfectly reasonable.

"Yeah I'm going to eat this!"
Robbo, me, my carbs and Keith

I'm also having a great time sitting next to the inimitable Keith Hong, who seems to know everybody who is anybody, and who also somehow talks me into signing myself up for the Centennial Park Ultra in August. Umm, what?? And finally Steve starts dancing with the Commonwealth Games 2018 Mascot - a rather strange blue, surfing koala by the name of Borobi - and my day is officially made.

Enough said.

Race Day

I'm staying in Surfers Paradise with my friend Laurence who is running the half - she has a bad habit of still being in line for the portaloos when the gun goes off - so, since her race starts at 6am we are already on our way at 5am in high hopes of avoiding another such incident. It's cold but not as bad as yesterday when I walk into the Aquatic Centre where the elite athlete area is set up; I'm reminded of Boston as I spread my stuff out and slowly get ready for the race.

There are African and Japanese super-elites lying with their legs up against the wall, but a good few familiar faces as well. I chat to Kirsten about New York marathon, Clare and I head out to run a few warm-up laps around the pool, and eventually we all get herded up to the start area. Lined up at the front of the crowd I'm maybe 5 rows back - there's no time to get nervous, or even really get cold - it's time to do this!

Can you spot me?

Miles 1-4: 6:22, 6:31, 6:17, 6:20 (pace in min/mile)

I'm over the line in seconds after the gun goes off and am pleased to find that the crowding is nowhere near as bad as I expected, and the pace doesn't feel too bad either. Usually it takes me a few miles to warm up properly but even during mile 1 I feel okay today; thinking back, this is probably due to having been more sensible than usual in the taper. Go me!

I have a few friends who are chasing 2:45 or faster today; one of them (Clare) has already disappeared in front of me as I'm approaching the Southport Bridge, and now one of the others - the amazing John Shaw whom I beat 18 months ago in the Cadbury Hobart HM (he's in 2 photos running behind me) - eases past and greets me as he goes. Did I mention that John is 63 years old and has just run a sub-1:20 half?? Before long and as expected he has disappeared ahead.

The first 5K pass fairly uneventfully; I'm a bit surprised to see mile 2 come in rather slower than expected, and predictably overcompensate in the other direction for mile 3, but I know better than to stress about this now. I'll find my groove soon and for now it's just great to be running again after a week of not enough miles and way too many carbs (although I never thought there was such a thing as too many carbs). The 5K mark passes in 19:40 and I'm more than happy with the pace just now.


Miles 5-8: 6:12, 6:22, 6:27, 6:21

We go whizzing down through Surfers Paradise and although it's still cold, the sun is shining off the water and there's barely a breath of wind. What a beautiful day, and perfect running weather! There's a small but vocal crowd yelling support - and it's early enough in the race that I can recognise and greet people I know - the result being what will turn out to be one of the happiest race photos of the whole day, thanks to the fan club of a fellow Wagga runner, Troy:

at 8km - hi Prue, Todd and Alex!

 It's not just people who know me, though. It's so cool having my first name on my bib: spectators all over are calling out "Go Rachel! Go Rach!" and at least I don't have to wonder who they are and how they know my name - I just wave or give them the thumbs-up and it's all good!

Through 10K in another perfect split, I notice a guy running just ahead of me wearing all black and a backwards baseball cap. He's been looking around a few times when people have yelled my name, and now there's a kid by the road holding a sign with a mushroom drawn on it that says "Tap Here to Power Up."

Now I know where that kid got the idea

I'm suddenly feeling a bit wiped out - I have no idea why - so I dart over to tap the sign. I'd like to suddenly and effortlessly zoom off into the distance like Mario would, but of course it doesn't happen. The guy behind me asks "Did it work?" - "Not really" I reply - we all laugh and the guy in black takes this moment to turn and say "Hi Rachel!" It's Xavier, the guy who won the strange, underwhelming Canberra Summer Marathon ahead of me last year!

He ran 2:45 there and on a much tougher course, but he's not been training much lately and that explains why he's not miles ahead of me at this point. We chat a bit and decide we might as well run together for as long as it lasts; I'm hoping that will be a while because this pace is definitely ambitious and I'll need all the help and support I can get.


Miles 9-12: 6:18, 6:23, 6:15, 6:19

With Xavier next to me suddenly I feel better and we make a little bit of small talk while simultaneously speeding up a touch. We hit the 15K mats and it's another perfectly paced split, which is extremely encouraging, and there's another boost when we see the lead pack come past in the other direction. Yuki is up there with all the Africans! I know they are all chasing the course record (2:08:42) and it's going to be very exciting to find out what happens - but for now I have my own fish to fry.

Up ahead I can see a girl wearing a yellow singlet and pink shorts; it's Liz whom I met at RunCamp. I had no idea she was shooting for such a fast time - we are on pace for 2:47 at the moment - and she unwittingly provides me with an incentive to keep pushing on. Because even though she must be 20 years younger than me I cannot suppress my competitive self that is somehow insisting "You're faster than her!" So I keep going even though I know this pace is quite a risk and that there's a good chance things may come badly unstuck before the end.

During mile 11 we make the turn to head back towards Surfers and eventually the start/finish area in Southport. There's a long way to go still and Xavier keeps surging, dragging me with him and making me nervous, because really I should probably slow down now and yet I know that I actually won't. But we are making ground on Liz, slowly but surely, and that's enough reason not to back down.


Miles 13-16: 6:22, 6:23, 6:20, 6:26

The 20K split is right on target as we head back up the coast - in fact it's a little faster than the previous few, which is very pleasing - but as we pass by my hotel I daydream briefly about stopping off for a rest. Running marathons at top speed is not necessarily fun and requires constant vigilance; let your mind drift and you'll lose precious seconds that will be hard to gain back later. I'd love to just go and sit on the balcony right now in the sun, but that will have to wait.

Halfway hits (split: 1:23:38) right as I finally pull alongside Liz - I've got enough breath left to say hi and remark that I didn't realise she was going for sub-2:50! - she greets me in return and says she's just hoping to hang on. As I gradually pull ahead I can still hear people calling encouragement to her for quite some time; hopefully she will do exactly that.

For some reason this next 5km/ 3 miles I start feeling like it's all too hard, and I'd like to stop running now please. Rather than panic about this negative turn of events, I think back to lunch yesterday and what Benita, Steve and Deek were all saying about the ups and downs of the marathon. For sure you won't feel great all race - it's like a rollercoaster really - and Deek's words about embracing the pain echo now inside my head. Time to embrace it and ride the coaster, waiting for the next upswing which hopefully isn't too far away. We pass by Prue and the Wagga cheer squad again at 23km; I hear them yelling but I'm far too focused on keeping my legs going to wave or smile this time. Ugh, that was rude, please let me feel better soon.

Still with a gaggle of blokes but looking far less pleased about it all

While I've been deep in my own personal struggles, Xavier has gradually fallen behind and I come out of my funk as I approach the 25km mats and realise he's not with me anymore. That's too bad, but on the other hand I'm not terribly entertaining company right now and that aspect of things is only going to get worse from here. No spare breath to talk and no spare brain cells to think of anything to talk about: from here on every ounce of energy is going into the process of keeping my legs turning over. The 25K split once again is right on target and I'm trying very hard not to dwell on the fact that there are 3.5 more of these 5K segments left to run.


Miles 17-20: 6:27, 6:27, 6:25, 6:33

Back up to the end of the coastal path I go, and it hasn't escaped my notice that I am now overtaking people quite steadily. The occasional one is a woman and suddenly I realise I feel pretty good! I have no idea what position I am in and honestly I don't really care; all that matters is getting to the next 5K split.

The next bit is going to be tricky: the course veers sharply left and then right onto the highway where we will climb back over the Southport Bridge and head up towards the start/finish area. This is where things are going to start to get hairy, but the 30K split is reassuring and somehow I am still on pace. It strikes me that if I can keep this up I may yet run an all-time PR (by only a narrow margin, but still) - but I know that is not particularly likely. Put the thought aside and just keep running!

Speed and photogenicity do not mix, at least not for me

I get an unexpected boost heading up the hill - it's a small hill but at this point in the race anything larger than a speed hump might as well be a mountain - in the form of some extremely loud yelling from the left side of the road. Later I will find out that this was my new running friend Nigel (who has also taken a video, see below); his enthusiasm is contagious and it carries me up and over the hill. And as I run past the infamous finish chute on my right, I'm pleased to realise I don't feel quite as bad as I thought I would at this point. But I still have 10km left to run.....

Miles 21-24: 6:32, 6:36, 6:38, 6:36

The 35K split comes and yep, it's my first over 20 minutes. A pang of dread goes through me - what if I'm about to hit the wall? But then something awesome happens that distracts me nicely from this negativity: I see the lead cars on the other side of the road. And running close together, perhaps a second or two apart, are two runners, one African and one Japanese - it's Yuki!

Immediately all I can think about is how exciting the live stream must be for Joel who I know is watching at home in the USA - we met Yuki 18 months ago in New York and he won Melbourne the first year I ran it. I need to get to the finish so I can find out who won! Only 7km to go - I can do this.

For some ridiculous reason the majority of official race photos seem to be taken in the final 10km of this race. As a result, 90% of my photos will turn out to show me in various states of distress: grimacing, eyes closed in pain, looking like I want to punch someone, throw up or perhaps burst into hysterical tears. These final 10km are the true test of the marathon, and it's taking every ounce of willpower that I have not to just pack it in and give up.

ohhhhh the pain

The final turn comes and I'm bracing myself for the headwind, but remarkably enough it just isn't there today. Usually in the final stages of a marathon I'll stop checking my mile splits, not wanting to be dismayed or discouraged by seeing them deteriorate, but this time I've been glancing at them much more than normal and so far I'm pleasantly surprised that they haven't been too offensive. I've slowed down some but I'm hanging in there a lot better than I expected to. Sub-2:50 is still within reach!

Miles 25- 26.2: 6:37, 6:37, 6:24 final approach

I don't remember very much of these final 2 miles, other than wishing them to be over as soon as possible. I pass a female runner just as I turn onto the highway towards the finish area - Steve, Shiloh and I jogged back along this route yesterday morning and it's comfortingly familiar as a result - I still have no idea what overall place I'm in and I don't waste any time thinking about it now. The crowd is large and vocal; they're cheering as I head for the finish chute but I can't hear them because I have resorted to counting in my head - the final refuge of the mind that wants to block out the several million pain receptors that are all bellowing at it to STOP DOING THIS! NOW!!

la la la la I can't hear you

The final 250m snakes left and right and I'm working the tangents like a Formula 1 driver, trying to shorten the distance between myself and the finish line. Finally it appears and I hear my name being announced - I look up to the clock and see the final seconds of 2:48 ticking away. Darn it!! I throw myself at the line in the most ungainly fashion possible, ensuring more hideous images that Marathon-Photo will subsequently sell to me at exorbitant prices, and finally I am there.

Finish time: 2:49:13  (6:27 min/mile, 4:00 min/km)

Placement: 14th female, 93rd overall, 1st in AG (F45-49)

Half splits: 1:23:38, 1:25:35 (1:57 positive split)

I weave my way slightly unsteadily through the volunteers holding barf bags and suddenly am aware of a strange, painful floating sensation in both big toes - it feels like my toenails are lifting up and I'm quite surprised I never noticed this before now. There's no visible blood on my shoes but a throbbing pain intensifies in the next few seconds and I'm starting to get worried about what I'll find when I take my shoes off. I look up in surprise to see Steve Moneghetti crossing the finish line not too far behind me - wasn't he pacing sub-3?? - he comes over, gives me an approving pat on the head and we stagger off together to talk to Clare.

Running legends!
photo credit: Dave Robertson

She has run a PR of 2:46 and is beaming from ear to ear, but it turns out her feet are also in bad shape. Eventually we try to head for the elite room but halfway there have to stop to take off our shoes - holding each other steady so we don't fall over in the process - and I'm greeted by a sock full of blood. Awesome! Not. Underneath my socks both big toenails are blistered and looking dreadful; it strikes me that this exact same thing happened in 2013 at this race, and still I have no idea why. But running 26.3 miles at suicide pace is probably to blame.

Post-Race Shenanigans

It's often hard to eat after a tough, long race, but most of the rest of the day will be spent in pursuit of food and beverages, and I find myself lucky enough to have some awesome company in which to do this. First it's coffee with Laurence and her friend Sonia, both of whom have run nice PRs in the half and are kind enough to wait patiently for me to hobble around and get cleaned up after my race.

CHEESE!

Then eventually I make my way to Surfer's Paradise to meet up with the group I have affectionately nicknamed "The Old Blokes": Steve (whom we met in Boston), John (who has run a single-age world record of 2:45, which age-graded is 96% i.e. world class) and the rest of their running group as well as Nigel, whose ear I am happy to talk off about all things running. Beer and deep fried food are two of my favourite food groups directly after a marathon, and both are procured in abundance as we all sit and enjoy the late afternoon sun. What an awesome way to spend a weekend!

Proving age is just a number....Team Geezer

The Analysis

I'm still not really sure what single factor is responsible for my great form this year, but long may it last! Going into this race I was a little apprehensive - although I know I trained well and that I have been racing well, it was a little daunting to be admitting to my goal of sub-2:50 - and a crash-and-burn sort of scenario would have been soul-crushing, to say the least. But thankfully it all fell into place and the result was a fantastic weekend of all things running.

Next up... there's always something coming next. And after that foolhardy lunchtime conversation I do believe it's my very first ultra! Gulp.

Melbourne marathon, October 2013

I must admit that as a born-and-bred Sydneysider, I've never had much interest in that smaller, colder, wetter city that lies 12 hours' drive to the south. I have been there a few times, never been that impressed, and had no particular reason to want to go back.

That was until late July when I found myself looking around for a spring marathon and realised....isn't Melbourne like really FLAT? Yes! Sign me up for that sucker! No, wait, see if I can get them to sign me up for free! And sign me up they did, to the elite athlete ranks no less. Suddenly my opinion of Melbourne was improving by the second, and the date October 13 was firmly marked down for a proper PR attempt.


The Training
Small but important detail here: for whatever reason, I never managed to commit myself to a proper training program for Melbourne. I have no idea why I thought this was even vaguely acceptable behaviour - elite start and everything, for God's sake, and I can't get my act together to print out something from Pfitzinger? But no, I couldn't, and thus the WTF Training Method was born. I've had several friends use WTF, with varying degrees of success and failure, so why not me as well? Wheeee!

Add to this insanity a week off to go skiing, a tough trail marathon and subsequent recovery, several weeks confined to the TM and a week of school holidays where doubles just didn't work out at all -- well, it wasn't looking pretty for Melbourne. I maxed out at 96 miles, which was one in a streak of 3 decent weeks (95-96-92) but for the rest it was a less-than stellar result. Again I set MP around 6:26 and for whatever reason this felt more realistic than ever before (maybe the reduced mileage? duh), but other than a HM in Sydney (1:23:08) and the local Lake to Lagoon 10K (38:48) I really didn't bother with speedwork at all this cycle. Again. Does anyone see a theme developing here? Anyone?


The Lead-up
Part of the elite treatment for this marathon means getting my bib mailed out, and 2 days before we're set to head to Melbourne it arrives:

With blue sticker for emphasis

This is the 3rd marathon I've raced with my name pinned to my singlet, but every time it's both exciting and intimidating.

Late Friday morning I drive down to Melbourne with my small daughter (and Mum in tow to help watch her), and the trip is surprisingly quick and easy. By mid-afternoon we're checked in to our (rather dodgy) B&B and have already made the short stroll down to the MCG, where the race will start and finish on Sunday. It's a beautiful day, and we take a random tram trip which happens to end in finding an amazing Italian restaurant, where I take the opportunity to start some serious carb-loading.

Saturday I run a 4 mile shake-out in the park around the stadium, finishing up with 3 minutes at top speed (the prescribed workout that starts the Aussie carb loading plan) and the rest of the day passes in a blur of Powerade and food. In there somewhere there's an elite athlete briefing, where I get to snap a shot of the developing finish area:

and a surreptitious one of Yuki Kawaguchi, although the look on his face suggests I might just have been caught out:

note Kenyans hanging out casually in the background

By 5pm I'm totally stuffed, so we find a Japanese restaurant (sushi has rice, so it's still carbs, ok?) and have a light meal before all hitting the sack early. The forecast is somewhat foreboding - possible rain and definitely a headwind at some point along the way - but at this point it is what it is, and there's nothing to be gained by whining about weather (or so I'm telling myself, and trying to believe it).

Race Day
I'm awake several times overnight, and then for good by 4am. I sneak to the bathroom to get dressed and try - mostly in vain - to make myself eat a poppyseed muffin. After yesterday's carb fiesta I just can't face it, so I drink some chocolate milk instead and sit on a pile of towels with my computer, mindlessly surfing the net. At 5:30 I clumsily attempt to sneak out but instead succeed in waking both my roommates, who groggily wish me luck as they collapse back onto their pillows. I set off in the crisp morning air towards the MCG.

The elite athlete's room is fairly easy to find, although the bowels of the MCG are something of a rabbit warren and at first all I can find are a line of rooms marked "Drug Testing". I eventually walk in to see Lisa Weightman (who will go on to win and break the female course record) sitting there dressed mostly in my lucky colour. I sit in the row in front of her, remark  "Love the pink!" and she responds by smiling and commenting on my Boston 2013 jacket - this gets the attention of a line of blokes sitting in the row behind, and we all briefly chat about the horrific aftermath of this year's race.

At this point Yuki Kawaguchi arrives and bows to everyone, which I find awesome considering he may well be today's race winner. He proceeds to stretch and wander around with headphones on, and I can't stand sitting still anymore myself so I head out the door in search of my running buddy Tony, who is in the pacers' room getting ready to steer a busload of lucky runners to a finish time of 3:20. We remark again on the crazy fact that there's someone pacing 2:50 - I joke that maybe I should just run with him (this will come back to bite me) - and then I'm off again to find some water.

All in all it's AMAZING to be hanging out in a room full of (mostly) Australian elites. And it's more pressure too: I'm no longer the token Aussie, plus there are people here I should be able to beat, or at least come close behind. I've met Jane Fardell before - that HM I ran right after Boston - so we chat for a while about Moscow and the horrible heat that forced her to DNF in the World Champs there in August. I've also met my main AG rival at the meeting yesterday - her name is Fleur and she lives about 90 minutes' drive from me - when she shows up we greet each other and briefly discuss strategy. She's aiming for 2:50 (her current PR is 2:54) and it does occur to me that I may end up running a lot of this race with her.

Eventually it's time to head up to the start, and this part is by far the least-organised of the whole elite experience to date. We get up there only to find we're not allowed in front of the starting line to warm up, and then the preferred runners all swarm in while the elites are standing around watching. Whatever, I manage to end up in the 4th row or so, which is fine by me. Finally the gun goes (crap, it's LOUD) and it's time to run. Let's see what the day will bring.


Miles 1-3: 6:24, 6:25, 6:23 (pace in min/mile)

This pace always feels a bit too tough during the first few miles, and by now I know it's nothing to worry about, but I can't help a small frisson of anxiety that goes through me when I check my pace and find it's not faster than it feels. Technically this is good - I'm aiming for a slightly slower first half than in my 2 road marathons this year so far - but psychologically it's a bit distressing. I try to brush it off, take my mile 2 gel, and note with interest that Fleur (who is distinctive in light blue shorts and shirt) and a large group of other women have rushed off and are at least 100m ahead of me already. I wonder if I'll catch them at some point?

Miles 4-6: 6:12, 6:28, 6:08

Yo-yoing back and forth, I just can't settle into the pace like I usually can: I'm over-compensating like a maniac. There's no 5K marker so I can't even be reassured by my split time. There are, as usual, heaps of guys around me - but as we make the turn to run alongside the small Albert Park Lake, I suddenly realise I can see Fleur and her gang, still about 100m ahead. I've been told there's inevitably a headwind at some point around this lake, and sure enough there's a small but noticeable breeze that makes me thankful for the blokes around me. I spend the next mile hopping from one to the next, tucking in as much as possible.

Miles 7-9: 6:18, 6:12, 6:15 -- 10K split: 40:08

The crowd thins out a bit as we curve around the lake and the path narrows; the wind drops, I have no idea where the pack ahead of me are, and for a while this doesn't bother me. I've picked up the pace a touch now, taken my second gel and am feeling more comfortable. But I know the stretch along the beach is coming up soon, and that's where we're going to feel the wind most of all. I need to catch that pack.

Miles 10-12:  6:10, 6:30, 6:21

As my Garmin beeps 9 miles, a bloke in bright orange shorts and yellow Newtons suddenly appears alongside me. Together we make a sharp right hand turn onto Beaconsfield Parade, right beside the water, and oh my god there's Fleur and that group of runners, still about 100m ahead. I point at the group and say tersely to Orange Shorts guy "We HAVE TO CATCH THEM....before the headwind hits...." To my surprise and delight he nods and grunts out "I'll go with you" - so together we accelerate in a way that I would never have done on my own. It seems like suicide, putting on such a spurt not even mid-way through a marathon, but I know that the headwind will surely sap my strength if I have to face it alone, just like it did in Honolulu and again the final 3 miles of Gold Coast.

We surge like a pair of maniacs, taking turns to lead the way. My Garmin is reading 5:58 pace when I briefly check it, and I wonder again if this is a mistake - but Orange is taking me with him, and within half a mile we are snugged up against the back of a pack that contains (to my surprise) 4 women and about 6-8 men.

The Rat Pack, just after the 20K arch

It's actually now quite easy to recover from the effort that it took to catch them, jogging in the wake of so many other runners. Their pace is actually a little slow - the next split is 6:30 - but whatever, I'm staying put for the rest of this long, coastal out-and-back. That big guy in the black and white singlet can do the work and I'm staying in his wake...right?


Miles 13-15: 6:26, 6:24, 6:28 -- 20K split 1:19:42

I've never run in such a large group before in a marathon - with the exception of CIM, where I spent a few miles in the company of the 3:10 pacer and his mob. Or the very short time at Gold Coast 2012 when I was running next to Steve Moneghetti with his sub-3 juggernaut in close pursuit. There's a reason for this; I really REALLY don't like running with a lot of people close on my heels. So within a mile or two I have gravitated naturally towards the front of the pack, and then we pass under an arch that marks 20K. I'm surprised there's no mats at the half, which we reach soon afterwards in 1:24:10 - so pretty much right on target, for now. Excellent!

There's a degree of concentration required to run at such close quarters: it's perilously easy to not only bump elbows but also trip on the heels of the person in front of you. People are jockeying for position, bumping and apologising, zigging and zagging a bit as we all try to run the best tangent. It's a bit surprising, too, the level of animosity that starts to emerge. Pink Singlet girl has a terse exchange with a bloke in a blue top, who seems to think he is the only one running straight and everyone else is in his way. I'm just trying to stay out of it and enjoy my lovely sticky vanilla gu......

Miles 16-18: 6:23, 6:30, 6:29

We turn back into the wind, and the group begins to split up a bit. It's starting to get really tough, and tempers are fraying. The last I hear of Pink Singlet is an expletive as she searches for her water bottle on one of the elite drinks tables, and now I'm in close formation with Fleur and a girl in bright yellow whose name is Johanna - I googled her last week and know she's a Mizuno ambassador. She's wearing cute yellow shoes that would go well with most of my Boston gear...I make a mental note to ask her which model they are...but not just now. Right now I'm just battling to stay on pace and talking about shoes is not going to help.

Then it happens. Rude Blue guy is just to my left, and although I'm slightly ahead of him he seems to think I'm following him, not the other way around. My left elbow bumps him and I hear a muttered expletive, followed by the words "Run straight, can't you?" For now I ignore him, but when it happens again and he again swears at me and tells me I'm not running straight, I snap and tell him in no uncertain terms to go have sex elsewhere, please. Only not quite that politely. What an idiot - I'm done with running in large groups.

But then something happens that completely turns my mood around. From the other side of the road - where a steady stream of runners is making its way in the other direction - I hear a familiar voice calling out "Alllll together now.....one....two....threeee...."....and then a deafening chorus of male voices sings out, "GO RACHEL!!!!!!!"

It's Tony and his pace bus! If I had the breath to do so, I'd be laughing my head off. I'm running with a smile on my face again as finally we turn away from the beach and back onto St Kilda Rd towards the city.

Miles 19-21: 6:36, 6:29, 6:28 -- 30K split 1:59:49

My pace is slipping very slightly now - all race the pace has felt tougher than it probably should, and now it's getting annoying. The worst part, though, is that I'm getting sick of it all. I'm actually considering giving myself permission to give up. Fleur is still right on my tail, so an AG win isn't even assured, and I know for sure now that 2:48 is out of reach. But if I keep it together I can still get my 3rd sub-2:50 for the year. That's a good goal to have, and I want to achieve it, but how badly do I want it? We are about to find out.

During mile 20, I hear a noise approaching from behind, and when I realise what it is my heart sinks. It's the 2:50 pacer and his accompanying horde. CRAP! So I'm not even going to break 2:50?

The thought is a mental torpedo, and all of a sudden I'm sinking fast. I hate having the crowd on my heels - there are maybe 6-8 guys running with him - and I resent the pacer, lovely though he is, for trying to encourage me to stay with him. I have no intention of exerting myself more than I am right now, so after about a mile of running near him (holding my mile 20 gel, which for some peculiar reason I suddenly can't be bothered taking) I start to fade back.

Fleur now opens up a tiny gap, and this time I'm not interested in closing it. I've always been proud of the fact that I don't tend to back away from challenges, but today is different. Maybe it's the extremely tough year I've had to date (not just running but personally as well), but today I've decided to be kind to myself and let myself coast a bit. I know I may regret this decision later, but in my mind the die is cast: the 2:50 pacer gradually pulls ahead of me, and I let him go.

Still being chased by lots of boys though

Miles 22-24: 6:39, 6:35, 6:42 -- 40K split 2:41:08

We merge briefly with some half-marathoners and I see the 1:35 pacer - the half started an hour behind us and I'm trying to do the mental math to figure out what this means for my potential finish time - but then our courses diverge again and it becomes irrelevant. There are more people around now, so more to look at and more to run with, and since I've mentally kind of checked out, I'm enjoying this part of the race more than I should. A few sprinkles of rain appear at this stage, but nothing like what was predicted - I realise the weather has been just about perfect for a marathon, other than the wind by the coast - another reason that I should have been able to do better today than I have. Oh well....

Concentrating hard at 25+ miles, Flinders St Station in the background

We do a weird loop under a bridge - I wonder idly if my Garmin is going to freak out or not - and head along through some very pretty parklands. Fleur is still not too far ahead of me (the gap just 6 seconds at the 40K mark) and I see her husband run up and offer her a banana. A mile or so back he was there handing her a bottle of Coke, and it strikes me that this is an excellent display of supportive spousal behaviour that I am witnessing here! But is that an expletive I hear her yell at him?? I've already noticed that Fleur is extremely focussed (she didn't really greet me at all when I joined her group back at mile 9) - maybe she's suffering more than I realised at this point? Her husband scurries off and we soldier onwards.

Miles 25-26.2: 6:46, 6:47, 6:34 to the very end (pathetic non-kick)

Finally the MCG is within sight. I can still see the 2:50 pacer, and that there are less and less people left running with him. Fleur is very slightly further ahead now, Johanna a little further, but I have no intention of trying to catch up. In my mind I'm expecting a 2:51-2:52 finish and somehow I'm okay with that. At the turn into the stadium I see 2:50 guy actually STOP and start yelling at the guys straggling in his wake. I pass one or two of them as they stagger towards the tunnel, and I'm actually smiling and almost laughing as I head up into the light. It's almost over!

Wheeeeee!

Running around the stadium is actually pretty cool. I don't bother with a finishing kick, I just look up and around and grin for the cameras. As I round the final turn I hear the finisher yelling about getting marathoners in under 2:50 -- hang on, what?? There's no way I'm anywhere near 2:50 flat, am I? But yes it seems I am, so I put on a tiny bit of a finishing sprint to get over the line, and thus ends the Melbourne marathon for me.

Finish time: 2:50:19, 6:29 pace.

Placement: 11th female, 102nd OA, 2nd AG (F40-44).

Post-race
I'm really not feeling trashed at all - I immediately go in search of Fleur and give her a hug to congratulate her on what turns out to be a 4 minute PR - awesome! I chat briefly to the 2:50 pacer and apologise for not bothering to stick with him, then I head down towards the elite athlete area to potentially find a shower. Fleur's on her way down too so we pose happily for a photo:

Two speedy old chicks

and then there's the challenge of finding the showers. Again it seems all I am fated to do is end up in small rooms marked "Drug Testing", and eventually I give up, head back to the elite room and just put on my Boston jacket, which has made it safely back from the start in the hands of the helpful elite coordinators.

Steve Moneghetti is sitting there and he smiles at me, so I go over, re-introduce myself and ask after his Achilles (on which he had an operation at the start of the year). He's happy to report that it's doing much better - he just ran the 10K in 31:27, an unofficial world record for his age (51). I see Lisa Weightman and OMG her feet - they're a mass of blisters and she's in the process of being carried off for a massage. But she looks ecstatic, and when I hear her time I can understand why - 2:26??? Incredible!


The Analysis
Well, this whole training cycle was really something of a farce, even the taper (which was disorganised) - only the carb-loading was  relatively efficient. With everything else that was going on in August and September, I actually only averaged 76mpw for the 11 weeks between Gold Coast recovery and the Melbourne taper. Sounds like a lot, but for Boston I ran at least 20mpw more. And the difference was palpable - high mileage really works for me.

The mental side of things was quite a surprise - until now I've always thought of myself as a tough cookie, but I melted like butter when things got tough this time around. Perhaps I've just had enough and need a mental break - or perhaps I need to toughen the heck up.

Next up? Coaching. It's the one thing I've really never tried, and for once in my life I'm actually almost excited to have someone else tell me what to do!

Medal! Yay!

Gold Coast Marathon, July 2012

The Gold Coast Airport Marathon has been on my radar since well before I actually started running marathons. It is one of Australia's premier running events and is billed as being fast and flat - I was aware of it and had even signed up for the half-marathon there in 2002, as I remember, but of course was still in plaster with a titanium rod holding my right leg together in July of that year. Not exactly PR-running shape.

Therefore it was the logical choice for my first sub-3 attempt after I ran 3:05 at CIM in December 2011 - because at that time I really thought my chances of running sub-3 at Boston were fairly slim. Accordingly, when that race went so well, Gold Coast assumed even more importance on my racing calendar. My Boston time qualified me for a seeded start, so the race loomed large in my mind for the entire 11 weeks between Boston and July 1, 2012: what if I crashed and burned wearing my seeded bib? How embarrassing would that be?? It did not bear thinking about - so I put my head down and trained as hard as I could.


The training
11 weeks between marathons left me with 2 weeks of post-Boston recovery, 7 weeks solid training and a 2 week taper. I loosely followed a Pfitzinger multi-marathoning plan, but added miles to average 79 miles per week during the solid phase and 69 if you include the other 4 weeks. I was pretty happy with how it all went, and targeted 6:41 min/mile for my marathon pace, which would see me finishing somewhere around 2:56.

I have to admit this felt ambitious, and in training I often found myself defaulting back to the 6:51 I trained at for Boston; even just 10 seconds per mile seemed like a lot more effort. And I felt positively foolhardy when I realised that the ODDyssey HM I ran in Philadelphia in May 2011 - a PR at the time, at least since 2007 - was run at 6:44 min/mile. Just over a year later I'm planning to run faster than that for a FULL marathon? Ooops, perhaps I am.

I was encouraged by my SMH HM time in May, which officially predicted a 2:56:06 marathon, so perhaps 2:55:xx wasn't impossible after all. I'm something of an oddity among runners, in that my performance in the marathon is better than predicted by my shorter race times; this suggests that either I'm a total sandbagger at short distances, or I have something about me that is particularly suited to the marathon. Personally I believe it's a little of both, but my shuffling gait probably is the main factor. It's very efficient for the marathon but I look like an idiot trying to race a 5K - and there is video evidence out there to prove I'm right. But anyway, I digress. Back to the Gold Coast!


The travel
As always, I travel with 2 highly demanding small children in tow, but this time my Mum comes along to help keep them in check. We fly to the Gold Coast via Sydney - where we hang out in the Qantas Club and between them the kids eat enough free lunch to justify our membership for another year - and once landed we drive to our digs in Southport in our snazzy hire car.

We make 2 trips to the Expo for various reasons and on Saturday I run a quick 3 mile shake-out, then accompany my 5 year old son who is running the 2K Junior Dash, his first ever proper race! I'm fully expecting this to take 15-20 minutes so I am thrilled when we cross the line in 11:22, and with only one short stop to take a quick drink. At one point he did clutch his chest and moan "MY HEART IS HURTING", but in true Doctor Parent style I told him to suck it up and keep running, and he did! I'm very proud of my little fledgling runner.

He did it!

Race Day
I wake up relatively easily at 5am and wash down a blueberry muffin with some chocolate milk, then set off at 6am for the race precinct. It's an easy walk and the main challenge is finding the Elite Athlete tent, where my seeded number means I'm entitled to hang out and keep warm before the start. It's not particularly cold but it's lovely to sit under cover and not have to queue up for the porta-loos - well, not when I get there, but a bit later I look up from my iPod to see a bit of a line forming, and for goodness' sake it's full of Kenyans! They are intimidating in a way, all tall and lanky in their professional-looking warm-up suits, and I don't even attempt to talk to any of them. But then Steve Moneghetti appears, does a double-take when he sees me sitting there, and comes over to say hi.

We chat briefly and I tell him how I did in Boston (he's impressed! well probably not really, but he congratulates me and that's good enough for me), then it's time to get ready and suddenly everyone is stripping off and waving sticks of BodyGlide around. I consider ditching my singlet and just running in a sports bra (a la Boston) but it's still reasonably cool and besides, I can't be bothered re-pinning my bib.

The seeded and preferred runners are herded into the area directly behind the starting line; I subtly fade backwards as much as possible and bump again into Steve, who now has a balloon tied to the back of his singlet - he's pacing sub-3:00, as I remember him telling me when we met at Port Macquarie. Then we shuffle forward, the gun goes off and it's ON!


Miles 1-3: 6:32, 6:34, 6:32 (pace in min/mile)
Off we go and instantly every other seeded female runner seems to be ahead of me. Whatever - I'm here to run my own race and the last thing I need to do is start stressing out about placement. My Garmin beeps the first mile and oops, that's a little too fast. I consider slowing down but realise suddenly that Steve Moneghetti, his balloon and the ENORMOUS pack of mostly male runners following it is RIGHT behind me and tearing along at the exact same pace that I am. That's right - I've been told that last year he did something similar, went out at 2:55 pace and slowed down later in the race - so I decide okay, he's pacing me for a while then maybe!

Wheelie to the right,  irritating balloon and huge pace group behind.

I move over and again we exchange greetings. I remark, casually, that he's going a bit fast if he's aiming for 3:00, and the priceless reply comes back: "Oh, shit, really?" Yeah - I tell him my pace band is for 2:56 and we're currently ahead of that - and the second mile beep goes off right then to confirm it. We speed onwards regardless, so I figure I might as well make the most of this, and we talk a bit about Boston and the Newton hills, his pace group and the balloon tied to his singlet. It's giving him the shits, apparently, but it's better than whatever he had last year.


Miles 4-6: 6:42, 6:35, 6:35
During mile 4 we're still debating as to whether we're going too fast or not. My auto lap goes off again and I say "Ooh, that one was right", but I'm referring to my own goal and definitely not 3 hour pace. We just ran a 20:14 first 5K, although apparently the balloon was aiming for 21:00. Finally during mile 5 Steve starts to drop right back, and I find myself pulling ahead of the 4-time Olympic marathoner.

As if to make the moment even more memorable, he and the guy next to him now start a conversation about my stride and how efficient I look. I yell over my shoulder "It's called SHUFFLING, guys!" - Steve laughs and says well it's perfect for marathoning - the other guy complains that it's not fair (huh??) - and the last thing I hear is Steve say is "Especially when they're running away from you!" Suddenly I don't feel quite so silly about my road-runner gait.....


Miles 7-9: 6:43, 6:38, 6:35
I'm mildly distracted in the next mile by two guys who in succession now ask me how fast I'm planning to run, both saying they are aiming for 3 hours and just trying to stay ahead of the Moneghetti juggernaut/balloon. I tell them both in no uncertain terms NO, you need to slow down, he's been going out too fast. One bravehearted fellow hears me say "2:55ish" and declares he's going to stay with me anyway, then promptly tells me he just did an Ironman 6 weeks ago. He ran a 3:40 that day and figures it can't be too hard to knock off 40 minutes, given he hasn't swum or cycled today. Ok then! On we go - and before very long he is gone.

Piling weirdity upon idiocy, now I get passed by a guy who appears to be carrying a plastic shopping bag full of GU and protein bars. WTF?? And he's pulling something out of it every minute or two, or so it seems in the short time we're running close together. A few miles later I catch up to and pass him back, and in the process look down - he's wearing Vibrams. A barefooter?? Of course!


Miles 10-12: 6:38, 6:34, 6:34
During mile 10 I see the leading mens' pack coming back on the other side of the road. It's a tight bunch of mostly Kenyans and Ethiopians, and they're floating along like they're just out for a stroll beside the beach, although I know they're on pace to break the race record of 2:10:01. Just seeing them brings a huge smile to my face and once again I'm thrilled to be back and competing in the sport I love so much, after all those years in the injury wilderness.

And now we're close to the turnaround - I count women coming the other way until I get to 15, then I deliberately stop - better to focus on holding my goal pace than to worry too much about what position I'm in, I think. Coming back the other way I hear a few yells of "GO RACHEL!!" from the other side of the road: one of them is a friend from Wagga who I realise must be going for sub-3 (even though he only runs 30mpw and I warned him a few weeks back not to be too aggressive), one other is probably Tony from the 3:20 thread on MRT, and the rest - I'm not even sure. But thanks! I always try to wave and thank people when they encourage me from the sidelines, but this race I really feel like I'm giving my all and it's starting to get hard to respond in time.


Miles 13-15: 6:37, 6:36, 6:36
Through the half in 1:27:05. I'm ticking off the miles like a metronome, and running right alongside a guy in a white and blue shirt. I consider saying hi but decide my breath is better saved at this point, so we pace along together in silence. At mile 14 I take my second vanilla GU and a small amount of water from one of the marked bottles that have been placed on the elite tables every 5km for me - they have been great until now but I'm starting to feel like I don't want to take on much at all - so in memory of Boston I dump a fair amount of water on my head and back. It's very sunny now and although the breeze is still cool, the sun is starting to bother me.


Miles 16-18: 6:42, 6:33, 6:30
Finally I'm starting to see women ahead of me again, and the idea of Assassin Mode slips into my head. Someone jokingly called me a shark on MRT recently, and we're running right along the beach still - it's time to smell the blood and start reeling in my victims. My silent running partner inexplicably offers me a pep talk at this point, telling me I'm looking really strong, and these factors combine to speed me up as we head closer towards the start/finish zone and the final out-and-back. I pass at least 3 women in this stretch.



Miles 19-21: 6:35, 6:42, 6:43
The course turns back onto the Gold Coast Highway and I head past the apartments where we've been staying - this is the point where I was expecting to see Mum and the kids, but they're not there and after a bit I decide maybe they didn't make it or something. But then - SCREAMS of "Mummy! Mummy! GO MUMMY!!" come from the other side of the road - and there they are, all 3 of them waving and jumping up and down with excitement. I manage to wave and scream back with enough enthusiasm to satisfy them, and that's just the thing I need right now because there's a HILL coming up in this so-called "flat and fast" marathon, and I absolutely do NOT want to run up a hill right now!!

But up the hill I go, and in the process pass another 2 women with seeded bibs on. Hah - maybe I wasn't such an imposter in that elite area after all - but man, passing the turn-off to the finish chute whilst still having almost 6 miles to go is a tough mental hurdle to conquer. All I want is for this to be over, but I have to hold 6:41 for another 6 miles. Can I do it?

Almost there, and digging deep.

Miles 22-24: 6:42, 6:40, 6:41
It's taking every ounce of courage and determination that I have to keep this up. I see photographers but I'm not smiling or flashing peace signs anymore - these are going to be the ugly-suffering-in-pain running photos that I've *mostly* avoided in recent times. There's nothing going through my head but a chant of KEEPITGOINGKEEPITGOINGKEEPITGOING, and my stomach did NOT like that last mile-21 GU at all. Somehow it was mint chocolate not vanilla, and I only took the tiniest sip of water to wash it down; last thing I want here is to have to emulate my friend Jim E and puke whilst running sub-7:00 pace.



Miles 25-26.2: 6:46, 6:47, 6:28 to the end
The wheels are finally starting to come off, but very gradually, and at least I have a tiny little kick left for the finish chute, which seems to go on FOREVER. As I sprint (well that's how it feels) down the final stretch I hear the announcers hoping I'll be the first Queensland woman to finish; I am vaguely wondering how to motion to them that I'm NOT a Queenslander when I hear "oh, no, she's from Wagga but we'll take her anyway" and then I'm over the line. I get to stop now! Awesome!!

Finish time: 2:54:51, 6:41 pace (Garmin reads 26.39 miles and 6:38 pace)

Placement: 14th OA female, 2nd AG F40-44

Post-finish
I grab a plastic vomit bag from one of the volunteers waiting just across the line and refuse the offer of a bottle of water - I'm seriously nauseated and I'm fairly sure I'm going to throw up. But after about a minute the feeling passes, thank goodness, and I'm able to straighten up. I lurk around until Tony shows up - he's run his sub-3 and is happy but just as exhausted as me - together we head for the grass and collapse in the shade of a palm tree. Mona walks past pulling at the evil balloon, and tells me he ran 2:58:something. I ask how the pace group held up and he smiles enigmatically.

Walking back to rejoin Mum and kids, on top of the world (and the Gold Coast apparently)

The Analysis
I'm obviously extremely happy that I managed to hold my goal pace for the entire 26.2 miles (well, a small fade but nothing like my first 2 marathons). Again it's all down to RUN MORE - the best piece of marathon training advice I've ever been given.

The big question now is, how much (if any) faster can I go? I've always felt that as a runner I have a fairly limited speed range - again I think it's probably due in large part to my odd gait - and my pathetic attempt at racing a 5K in March provided some pretty solid evidence supporting that theory.

I'm not quite giving up yet, but I think some serious speedwork is probably in order, and finding the right combination of quality and quantity to my training - whilst obviously avoiding getting injured - is going to take some thought. Maybe I need an online coach to get the most out of my next marathon cycle, or maybe I'll just kick back and take it easy in New York, since I'm registered there already. But whoops, I have sub-elite status there too, and it might be silly not to take advantage of that and go for yet another PR......I guess time will tell!

Port Macquarie HM, March 2012

After running up a storm over the Christmas holidays, I was searching around for a HM to race as a tune-up race before the Boston Marathon in mid-April. Early autumn is apparently not a popular time of year to race in NSW, as the only one I could find online was the Port Macquarie Running Festival, a new event incorporating a bunch of shorter races and a HM.

Spurred on in part by the fact that I would have to travel alone to run this one (without the kids? Oh no!), I signed up and booked a room at the sponsor hotel, just adjacent to the start/finish area.

The lead-up

My training for Boston had been going along very well in the weeks preceding this race. I was logging very high mileage compared to my previous training cycles - up to 92 miles per week (148km) - and hitting all my paces in tempo and MP runs, so I began to feel like this could be a chance to finally break my old HM personal best (PR or PB) from way back in 2001. I spent a stupidly long time trying to find old results until I realised what "inaugural" actually means - oh yeah, it hasn't been run before.

I was encouraged by the fact that the course was supposedly flat, but the precise description was that it "avoids hills", which I was to learn does not mean the same thing as "flat". I was moderately alarmed to see the course map when it came online, and read that it was a 3 lap out-and-back run; and damn if it didn't look bloody twisty and intricate too....

But there was never any doubt in my mind that I'd run this race - injury or disaster notwithstanding - and more so when flooding stopped us from travelling to the other HM I was planning to run 2 weeks earlier.

The travel

Lining up to board the plane in Sydney, I'm surprised to recognise Steve Moneghetti in the queue in front of me, although I guess I shouldn't be. I already know he's been invited to run the race and also that he's speaking at the pasta dinner that night, for which I have a ticket in my bag. Although I normally would never presume to make conversation with a famous person - and as one of Australia's greatest ever marathoners, Steve is definitely famous - when he looks around I smile and ask him "Running the race tomorrow?" He says yes and comments that we'll need better weather - it's currently pouring rain - I comment that the course looks pretty twisty - and then we're off to board the plane, and that's that.

Everything goes smoothly from there - the peace of a hotel room with no small children in it is almost intoxicating - yet walking to dinner that night I'm suddenly wondering if I should just head back to the hotel and order pizza instead. I don't know anyone at this dinner and what if the food is disgusting? But in I go, and I'm lucky enough to encounter another woman who is there alone - her name is Corinna, and she's running the HM, her 2nd ever - pretty soon we're seated with another couple (Andrew, running his 2nd HM, and his wife Pauline) and suddenly I'm having a good time.

After his speech I decide to go up and ask Steve what time he thinks he'll run, mainly to know how far in front of me he will be. I remember running a HM in 2001 where he was also present, and seeing him once on the home stretch while I was still at least 5km out (and I came 3rd in that one, so I wasn't exactly slow), and also I'm curious what he thinks of this course.

There's an entire table of 50-something ladies (age not numbers) competing for his attention - one of them is even clutching a copy of his book - but when I do get a chance to ask, he tells me quite honestly that he thinks the course will be slow. He's run the second turn-around this afternoon, and he remembers it was me who pointed out the twisting course to him when we spoke at the airport. I say I'm shooting for sub-3:00 at Boston in 4 weeks and he tells me if I can run under 1:30 tomorrow it will be a good indicator.

As I walk home I reflect on this and decide to forget about running a PR, and just give it my best shot. I'm a little disappointed, but there's nothing I can do now to change the course, so I might as well have fun anyway.

Race day

I wake up early and lie in bed eating a banana and enjoying the peace. The race starts at 7:30am so at 6:45 I get dressed and head out for a warm-up jog. I'm curious about the second turn-around point now, so I run down the breakwater and realise that if the run turns out badly at least I can enjoy the scenery: it's beautiful and as if to drive home the point, a pair of dolphins choose that moment to jump out of the waters of the inlet.

However two other things now become clear: it's much too hot to wear the shirt I put out, and this headland loop is horrible. It's narrow, slippery wooden boardwalk followed by narrow, steep paths with numerous short switchbacks. I'm going to lose time here for sure.

Back home I ditch my shirt, re-pin my number to my running top, suck down a pouch of vanilla GU and head back out to the start. I see Andrew warming up and give him a wave, then realise the start is over a section of grass. No timing mats, just an inflatable arch reading "NAB".

Clearly there are going to be no chip start times today - so I head right for the front row and end up bang next to Steve Moneghetti. He asks my name again and wishes me luck, then the RD sounds some kind of clown horn and off we go!

Trying to keep up with Moneghetti (me in pink, him in blue wearing sunglasses), it works for all of maybe 100m...

Miles 1-2: 6:25, 6:24 (pace in min/mile)

Perfectly paced despite the fact that we take off over grass and segue straight into a carpark where I'm almost taken out by a wooden bollard. This leads around a corner to another carpark - but with potholes to dodge! Then up over a curb, some dirt and grass, over a narrow bridge and into more similar stretches - finally we skirt the side of a road, reach a hairpin turn and head back the same way. Same obstacles but now there are slower runners coming the other way! Awesome!

Quite quickly there are 2 women WAY out ahead, and another 3 in front of me in the first mile. I catch 2 of them easily but the 3rd is clearly going for broke. She's tall, much taller than me, and running 6:24 pace (4:00 min/km) easily, although I note on the few times I pull alongside her that her breathing is nowhere near as comfortable as mine is at this point. Every time she slows, I catch her, and then she surges ahead again. I decide to settle in and wait for her to tire.

Miles 3-4: 6:37, 6:25

Mile 3 finishes just past the hairpin turnaround just beyond the monster headland and I know I've lost time there. Never mind, I get back on pace and realise 3rd woman seems to have lost more than me. We head along the breakwater together and back again towards the start/finish area, and passing through there she says to an onlooker (probably her husband) "This course is CRAP! It's too narrow!"

In that second I know I will pass and beat her. There has been a lot of discussion lately amongst some of my online running friends about mental toughness, and I know 3rd woman has lost it mentally now: she is slipping into a negative mindset, something I was tempted with early on but consciously decided to avoid.

Something evil goes through my mind at this point: I could easily say something that will make it worse for her. But I don't want to be seen to be openly sledging her - so when she snaps at me for accidentally nudging her, I sweetly say back "Two more laps to go!"

And it works a treat: in the next mile I drop her and she never passes me again.

Miles 5-6: 6:18, 6:30

The price I pay for moving into 3rd place is that I no longer have someone to pace me and I go first slightly too fast, then slightly too slow. Never mind - the second lap is half over and I head back through the start/finish yet again and out to the breakwater. In passing I see Pauline who cheers me on, then Corinna goes past on her first lap, and then as I turn down towards Town Beach something REALLY cool happens. Steve Moneghetti passes me on his way back from the headland (he's in the lead with a young guy right behind) and he waves and says "Nice running, Rachel".

It's almost enough to make me forget that it's time to take another GU, but I come to my senses and suck it down only to realise I have misremembered where the water station is. So I get to run half a mile with the taste of sickly-sweet vanilla all through my mouth - mmm, yum.

Miles 7-8: 6:20, 6:44

The GU effect speeds me right up but then that hideous headland slows me down again. On the way back along Town Beach the total lack of crowd control in this race suddenly becomes very much of a problem: an enormously muscly surfer dude steps out in front of me and it's all I can do to bounce off his tattooed bicep and remain upright. I lose more time getting back into a rhythm, but at least I didn't bite the dust entirely.

Full sun, people all over - not even the magic of pink can fix it now...

Then on the breakwater there is a guy walking his dogs, and their leashes are stretching ALL the way across the path. My option to avoid them is to either hurdle the leashes or throw myself into the sea - instead I choose to yell at the top of my lungs "HEY!!! MOVE YOUR DOGS!!", and I have to repeat it before he complies.

As I run past I say "Mate, there's a race on" and his reply? "Yeah so WHAT?" Well, isn't that lovely. I am pretty annoyed by now - and the yelling has cost me precious breath - but I brush it off and tell myself to keep going.

Miles 9-10: 6:23, 6:29

Back on pace, which is good, and now I'm through the 3rd turnaround in the carpark. Back for the final part of the course - and in passing I realise that I just ran a 10 mile PR of 1:04:34, which is kind of nice. I've only run 2 10 mile races, both in the UK in 2007, and I'm pretty sure the faster one was 1:07 something. Cool!

Miles 11-12: 6:19, 6:40

I see Corinna again on this lap and the outbound part goes well. Steve passes me again and this time says "Pretty fast, Rachel, great", which makes me grin and probably explains the 6:19. I see the 2nd woman is noticeably closer now, although the female leader is still streets ahead of me. And up I go over the headland for the final time, by far the worst - by now there are random tourists meandering around on the narrow paths, in addition to the runners going the other way - but at least it's almost over.

Mile 13.1: 6:33, 6:04 to finish

This includes the second part of the headland and I see my pace is slower, but I feel okay and good enough to give it some juice through the finish chute. As I approach, the crew at the finish hold up a Brooks banner and I'm so surprised that I stick my arms in the air and bust right through it. Oh yeah - I just came third!

Wait, wait, what's this??

My official finish time is 1:25:17, a 23 second improvement over my 2001 PR. For my efforts I get a very nice trophy - presented to me by Steve Moneghetti, whom I thank for his encouraging words to me during the race - and a cheque for $200! And then after some very pleasant refuelling and relaxation, it's off back home again.

The analysis

I was targeting an average pace of under 6:30 min/mile for this race, so the final figure of 6:28 was bang on where I wanted it to be. The female winner clocked a very impressive 1:20:12, but 2nd place was only 57 seconds ahead of me - and they're both at least 15 years younger than me, so that makes me feel really great about what I achieved in the race. On a flatter, wider course I could undoubtedly have run even faster, but given the course I feel happy that I did my best on the day.

If you put 1:25:17 into a pace calculator, it spits out 2:59:52 for a full marathon - so that's a good sign for Boston I hope, although I'd prefer a slightly larger margin than a mere 8 seconds for my sub-3:00 attempt!

A very nice trophy that almost makes up for the wild crazy nature of the course. Almost.