Wagga Lake 10K, September 2016

Clockwise from top left: 2012, 2014, 2015 and 2013

The reborn Lake to Lagoon! One of my favourite races - I've run it every year since 2011 and won it 3 of those times - it's a bit of a nasty course with a rather long hill in the first half, but I love it just the same. Originally when I moved to Wagga it started at Lake Albert and finished in the centre of town by the Lagoon (hence the name, very original) but a couple of years ago it was rerouted and now finishes back by the lake at Apex Park. For me this is extremely convenient - I can jog to the start as part of my warm-up, and then home again afterwards (more of a crawl really) if I have to.


The Training

I will freely admit that the only reason I am including this sub-heading in this particular post is because I have put it in every other post on the blog, not because I did any actual 10K-type training in the lead-up to this race. As I had done the previous week, in the 7 days preceding this race I ran my long run on Friday (this time mercifully without any faceplants into the asphalt) and due to a combination of laziness and an Act of God (see below) I ended up running a paltry 5km on Saturday. Because on Saturday morning when I finally made it out of bed, my plans to hit the treadmill were derailed by the sight of this in our street:

I'd still go for my run but I can't find my snorkel

I was far too busy figuring out what was going to potentially float away (mercifully, nothing much) to worry about running, and in this way the flash flood actually came in sort of handy as a mini-taper. It would have other implications for the race itself, however.


Race Day

The late start (10:30am for the runners) means I'm able to spend a lazy morning getting ready and at 9:30am I set off with Jack - who is participating in the event as a bike rider - to jog to the start line. The sun is out and it's a gorgeous day; you'd never know that just 24 hours ago most of the suburb was underwater. Jack sets off and I go for my warm-up towards the northern end of the lake; before long it's already time to line up.

Remembering previous years and the usual horde of sprinters who will fade within minutes, I make sure to secure myself a spot right in the first row  - and looking around on the starting line there are a few coltish young girls who will surely be in that group; otherwise there doesn't seem to be much in the way of competition around. Yet. Hmmm.

I'm reminding myself not to count my chickens before they're hatched - I see Amanda, who was 2nd behind me in Canberra last weekend, and go over to say hi - and sure enough at the last minute I look to my right and hmm, there's a woman there who looks like she might be a contender. This is about to get interesting! I spent the dorky warm-up routine sneakily trying to size her up and decide that my only hope is that she doesn't have endurance because I'm fairly sure she's going to have speed.

My assumption about her abilities comes mostly from the fact that she has the powerful, strong-looking build of your typical shorter distance (5K, 10K) speedster whereas by contrast (and partly also due to my gait) I am very much built for endurance, not speed. My natural build is somewhere between mesomorph and ectomorph but unless I start lifting weights - which I haven't done for at least 3 years now - I tend to sit more on the endomorph side of the spectrum.

This is great for marathons (and ultras) but also means my 8 year old daughter can already beat me at a 100m sprint, meaning I have zero short-distance speed. So if this chick is as fast as she looks, my only hope is my endurance - and that she can't match it - because there's no other way I'll be winning again today.

Most casual start line ever

Miles 1-3: 6:08, 6:36, 6:14

Zoom! Off we all go in a mad rush and at least 3 of the teenage girls are instantly ahead of me - I can wait for them to tire but what's this to my right? Sure enough the chick in the white singlet (later I will discover that her name is Erin) is already pulling out in front and looks very comfortable when you consider the pace we're running.

Already by the end of the first mile the teens and tweens are all slowing right down but Erin is maintaining a gap of around 10-15 seconds ahead of me; a couple of times I think she's slowing down too but nope, even as we start the long uphill section on Lake Albert Road she just keeps on going.

Part of me is rather annoyed - I really wasn't planning on having to try this hard! But finally during th,e final part of the climb my persistance starts paying off: I realise that I'm slowly reeling her in, and as she reaches the top I'm probably only 10 seconds behind. At the turn of course she sees me and, of course takes off down the hill back towards the lake at top speed.

I'm not done yet, though, and there's a steady stream of runners yelling my name from the other side of the road which is having two effects: it's pumping me up (although I'm a bit too focused to reply much) and I'm fairly sure it's intimidating the heck out of Erin. If this is my home-town advantage than why not use it? Heh heh.

This year's course, pretty much an out-and-back one with the usual unpleasant hill in the middle

Miles 4-6.2: 5:56, 6;14, 6:20, then 6:16 pace to the finish

It's not often that you see a mile as fast as this from me in a race - 5:56 min/mile is 3:41 min/km and a LOT faster than my usual top speed - but it's downhill and I'm trying to win, so there we go. Erin is ahead for the first part of mile 4 but then there's a water station and to my surprise she slows down to grab a drink; I see my opening and jump right through it, into the lead. Wheeee!

The course plummets back down towards the lake and I'm basically giving it all I've got right now; as I approach the roundabout where things level out I'm therefore horrified to hear footsteps pounding up behind me. Crap! If this is Erin coming to get me then I'm toast - there's no way I can speed up beyond what I'm doing right now, or at least not without risking total meltdown sometime in the 2 miles that remain.

But no! It's a guy in a green singlet! I've never been so happy to be overtaken in all my life. I let him drag me along a bit faster as we head now to the path beside the lake - the opposite side to the usual course, which at this point is partially underwater due to the recent floods - and back towards Apex Park. This side of the lake is shorter so there will be a short out-and-back around the southern end; this will let me see exactly how close behind me Erin is, and hopefully that won't freak me out too badly.

There are more people shouting encouragement at me as I speed past the park, and at least they're not saying "Go girls!" which would suggest she's breathing down my neck. The 1km out part seems to take forever but finally I'm on the way back and by my estimate she's at least 40 seconds adrift. Phew! I'd like to relax now but there's no point tempting fate, so I just keep plugging until at last I'm in the finish area and yay! I cross the line for my 4th win in this event. James Davy has won overall and this is the 3rd time he and I have been victorious together: that's him in the top two photos of the collage at the top of this post.

Finish time: 38:40 (6:14 min/mile, 3:52 min/km)

Placement: 1st female, 8th overall

My son Jack is there to greet me - I told him I'd most likely finish around 38-39 minutes and so he's pretty impressed that I hit my target exactly - he rushes up to hug me and since he's mostly too cool to give me big hugs these days, I make the most of it and hang onto him long enough that the moment gets captured forever by a nearby photographer. Excellent!

Soon afterwards it's time for a surprisingly unorganised presentation - the medals are missing, there doesn't seem to be any sort of take-home trophy anymore and I have to leave before the AG presentations (at least I'm apparently not missing out on a medal since there are none) - but I do get to hold that mother of a trophy one more time and will have the satisfaction of seeing my name on there for another year. Not bad for a morning's work!

Cutest post-race photo EVER;                            This is one heavy trophy, believe me

All in all, although today's time wasn't my best it certainly was a good effort and I'm proud of myself for persevering and outlasting yet another fit young chick. 10K is not at all my favourite distance so it's gratifying to see that I can still run one a fair bit faster than I could 10 years ago, too. Next up? How about some rest? It's been a long, long couple of months, after all. 

Wagga Trail Marathon, August 2016

In the 9 years I've lived in Wagga I've run every event in this running festival - the 10K in 2009, the half in 2010, and the marathon finally for the first time in 2012 - until last year of course, when I stepped things up to do the 5K/marathon double. It made sense to do the same this year (well, as much sense as anything does when it comes to me and my running) so after once again surviving the annual family ski trip without injury I signed myself up, and Jack for the 5K.


Training? What?

Nothing to speak of, actually. I seem to have spent most of the past 7 weeks tapering or recovering from one thing or another, so to call it "training" would be a misnomer. It was more like a reverse taper, to be honest. I followed up the CP 50K with a week of light jogging and then 4 days of skiing that I told myself would be enough cross-training (aka enforced rest) to let the legs recover properly, but it seems I was kidding myself completely. And rest of any sort tends to make me itchy, of course, so I couldn't resist compensating with a little too much running in the few days I was back in town before race weekend. Ooops.


Race Weekend

The forecast is - unfortunately - entirely in keeping with the general tone of this winter: rain, rain, and possibly a bit more rain. The wet stuff continues to fall from the sky all of Thursday and Friday, until I'm seriously wondering if the river will be so high that the final 10km of the marathon will have to be a swim leg instead. Not so long ago I was down at Wagga Beach - the start and finish area of the marathon - and noticed that the water was up to the grass, which is not a great sign.

An image from the 2012 Wagga floods. Ok, so maybe it's not quite that bad just now

Even if the riverside trail isn't actually underwater it is very likely to be muddy, and if other parts of the course are as affected (particularly the treacherous trails of Pomingalarna) then it's going to turn an already-tough marathon course into a seriously dangerous endeavour. I certainly haven't forgotten the lovely mouthful of dirt - not to mention the skin off my nose and chin - from last year when I tripped over at mile 16, and I have no intentions of repeating that particular experience. So it really doesn't matter that much if I'm not in peak shape for Sunday: it's not like I'm going to be able to run a super-fast time anyway.


Saturday: the 5K

I ran (and won) this race last year but there was a fast young girl there who made me work for it; this year, somewhat to my relief, she is nowhere to be seen. The gun goes and my legs are not very happy about the first half a mile but then they somehow relax and I can start to enjoy myself. This path along the river levee bank is very familiar from my afternoon doubles during Amelia's ballet class and the first mile goes by quickly in 6:32 which is a little slower than maybe I'm capable of running today, but still reasonably fast.

Just before the turn, not sure why I look so unimpressed but Jack looks about the same

Heading back to the start area I see Jack and then Ewen in quick succession, but first there are a couple of females who in fact are not too far behind me. This knowledge speeds me up somewhat and mile 2 goes by in 6:22. The final mile is going to be slower, I know this already; it's half along the levee and half down by the water. The turn down to the river happens at a different spot this year, though, which makes no sense - I've just overtaken two of the blokes ahead of me and it's sort of annoying that I have to slow down and in fact ask a volunteer where I'm supposed to turn - but then finally I'm down on the narrow path and on my way back to the beach.

It's muddy in places and there are some unpleasantly spiky weeds that prompt me to decide I'm wearing long socks tomorrow - I don't particularly fancy getting my legs scratched up in the final miles, thanks - but overall it's not too bad really. I pick my way steadily along the bank and mile 3 beeps as I'm approaching the finish line: 6:39.

Both the guys just behind me choose this moment to charge past me again and I really should rise to the challenge but sadly I can't be bothered. Instead of chasing them I just run steadily to the finish line and that's enough to finish as the first woman, which is certainly good enough for me today!

Finish time: 21:03 (a minute slower than last year, probably due to that inexplicable add-on)

Placement: 1st female, 6th overall


Jack rolls in a little under 8 minutes later (29:00), which is a very impressive time given the terrain! We grab our medals and this year I remember to stay around for the presentation - another cool crow trophy to add to the collection.

Sunday: the Marathon

It's perfect running weather when I arrive back at the Beach on Sunday morning: around 10C and slightly cloudy, although this is predicted to clear during the day. The mountain bikers are preparing to start their race - once again it's a hilarious Le Mans start where they all have to hobble/run on their cleats to reach their bikes - and it's great to see that numbers are well up on last year.

My Sydney friends Elkie and Tony show up, along with the usual cast of Wagga runners, but it seems there are no fast young things raring to beat me today. Well, as far as I can tell. I'm certainly not making any assumptions and also not feeling like running fast either; we will see how things play out over the next few hours.

I actually look happy about the 3+ hours of pain coming right up

Before I know it it's time to line up, and Tony - who I am expecting to run a similar time to me - inexplicably is hanging out way in back. I stomp over and drag him up closer to the front with me, and then boom it's time to go!


Miles 1-5: 6:54, 6:46,  6:54, 6:47, 6:56

Off we go along the levee bank, and to my slight surprise Tony is almost immediately well ahead of me and soon he's out of sight. Ok then! Perhaps I'll catch him when the hills start, but my legs don't feel amazing, in fact they feel pretty awful considering how early it is in the race.

I usually run the first 10km of this course a little faster than goal pace (although having said this, I haven't actually bothered to figure out a goal pace and all I can really say is that I'd like to keep most miles under 8 minutes) because it's flat and familiar, but today it's a bit of a struggle. As far as females go I'm in the lead, but I don't really know who is lurking behind...

Heading towards the start of the hills - aptly this happens on Red Hill Road - there's an opportunity to look back and see who is within a few hundred metres, so I take it and oh boy, there's someone with long blonde hair about 100m back. That's closer than I would like - and for all I know they may be a relay runner - but hopefully it doesn't matter: the horrible hills are about to start and there's a good chance I won't slow down as much as they will in the next 20km. I hope.

Absolutely evil elevation map

Miles 6-10: 7:29, 7:43, 7:20, 7:28, 8:04

Up, up, up I go - this hill never seems to end and the infuriating sign that I noticed last year is still there, right near the top (it reads "It's a hill. Get over it" and you can imagine how furious that makes me as I'm climbing the first incline in the graphic above) - but finally I'm there. I'd quite like a drink but the person handing out cups is too busy looking at other runners to notice me, and my grab for a cup of water misses altogether. Too late, and I'm not about to stop (I might never get moving again) so I'll just have to suck it up and keep going. Grrrr.

I'm running pretty much alone and have been for the majority of the race so far; I don't really mind of course, although it would be nice to have company. There are quite a lot of people at the 15km mark, for no apparent reason, and this time I grab a cup of water from the table and slow right down to drink it. As a result I feel pretty good as I set off again into the hills.

For every agonising up, thank goodness there's also a thrilling down

I'm managing to keep a decent pace going, somehow, and of course I've started catching some of the early starters. The climbs are increasingly agonising - my legs haven't lost that "dead wood" feeling they always have in the aftermath of a race - so even though I can keep a decent pace on the flat or downhill stretches, I'm dying on the uphill stretches. Mile 10 is one I remember from past years and this time it gets me - my first mile slower than 8 minutes. Oh well - at least it's mostly downhill to the halfway point now. Isn't it?


Miles 11-15: 7:29, 7:04, 7:23, 7:46, ??

The downhill turns into a pleasant flat stretch and I'm making my way mindlessly through the bush on my way to the Silvalite reserve when suddenly I hear a voice behind me yelling something that sounds strangely like "WRONG WAY!!" What, really?? So far the course has been reasonably well-marked with a combination of chalk arrows and small pink flags, but the past mile or so they have been far less obvious. In fact, I was just reminiscing about the year another runner popped out in front of me in this area and complained how he kept getting lost, and then of course there's the memory of how getting lost cost me a victory in the trail half marathon of 2010. Could I be about to suffer the same fate today?

There's a group of runners up ahead - more early starters? - and they greet me by name as I zoom past, but then suddenly there's a fork in the trail, no markers and I have no clue which way to go. I could easily squander whatever lead I have over the next female marathoner if I get myself properly lost, and the thought makes me momentarily quite cross. I'll just have to keep heading in what I hope is the right general direction and hope for the best; I usually have an uncanny sense of direction (Joel refers to it as my internal GPS) and right now that's all I have going for me.

Sure enough, eventually I find myself in sight of the halfway point and I'm on the wrong side of the fence. There's a gate though, so I pop through onto the correct path and help myself to a cup or two of water before trudging off to tackle the gnarly hills of Pomingalarna Reserve. Ooh, I can't wait.

Halfway split: 1:35

I'm making my way as enthusiastically as I can manage (read: not very) along the steep and muddy trails of Pomi when I become aware of two small issues: firstly, this course seems sort of different to the last few years, and secondly, my blasted Garmin watch has once again seized up. I stop it and start it again but I've missed around 2 miles (I think) and I'm rather annoyed that this has now messed up two races in a row. Grrr, Garmin are going to be hearing from me rather soon.


Miles 16-20: ??, ??,  9:00?, 9:29?, 8:08

Even when it starts up again, the pace seems off and it seems I really can't trust the Garmin now. When it beeps a 9:00 and then a 9:29 mile, I give up and decide to just concentrate on running. I'm passing a fair few half marathoners and one cyclist (who looks well and truly fed-up); it's taking all my concentration to get past them without falling. I'm also wondering where I fell last year and trying to spot the spot, so to speak, but before I know it I'm coming to the top of the hill already. Time to grab some water and start bombing the long downhill to the golf course!

Except somehow my legs aren't all that into bombing. Or anything much at all, really; I've suddenly realised that my left iliotibial band and the outside point of my knee where it inserts are both seriously unhappy. It is hurting to plant my left foot on the ground and that's happening in spades just now because of the descent - ouch, ouch, ouch. When this day is done I'm going to need to reacquaint myself with my foam roller and the world of pain it loves to inflict. Oh, what fun.

So many ways to torture, so little time

The final part of the golf course is pure mud but I'm too tired to bother detouring around the small shed where it's the deepest: I plow/splash straight through, stop at the gate for a cup of water and then pop out onto the road to face the final 10km of the race with thoroughly wet and filthy shoes. How pleasant!


Miles 21-25: 7:51, 7:30, 7:37, 7:37, 7:59

My Garmin appears to have gotten over its latest brain-fart and is once again showing acceptable paces, although they're probably a fair bit slower than I managed over this stretch last year. My legs are toast, the muscles an unimpressed mass of jelly, and all I want to do is stop. Of course I won't, but it would be so nice.

I occupy myself instead by considering the marvellous fact that this year I won't have to spend my evening looking at sore throats and funny rashes at the after-hours GP clinic (which was my unfortunate fate last year) and instead will be able to stay on at the after-party at the Thirsty Crow. Chips (French Fries to the rest of you) and beer are my two favourite refuelling choices after a marathon and both should be available in abundance there. Mmm, yum. Just keep running.

Typical late-race frown; internal mantra: "Chips. Beer. Chips. Beer"

The stiles begin and in my exhausted state it's even less enjoyable than usual to have to haul myself over them, but I manage it and despite the mud also manage to stay on my feet, which is a miracle. The sun has been out for a while and I'm sort of warm - I could probably take off my arm warmers if I had the energy to do so, but I don't - then again I'm close enough to the finish that I should just keep going like I am.

I'm passing a steady stream of half marathoners now, all of whom are very courteous and conscientious about stepping aside to let me through, and finally with only a few kms to go I catch Elkie who is running the half. I remark on how Tony has left me in the dust long ago, she agrees that he's doing an amazing job of showing me up today, and onwards I plod. It's a beautiful day to be out running and even though I'm not doing nearly as well as last year time-wise, it's great to just be here. Or so I keep telling myself.


Miles 26 and 0.2: 7:47, 7:23

I'm just waiting to be done, at this point. There are half marathoners all over the place and as I finally approach the finish line I'm right behind a guy; part of my brain wants to speed up and charge past him like a glorious victor but my legs are not having it. I arrive in his wake to the finish in a personal worst time, but gladder than ever before to finally be done.


Finish time: 3:19:42 (7:37 min/mile,  4:43 min/km)

Placement: 1st female, 9th overall

I've trashed my favourite shoes but have the most awesome trophy in the world to make up for it

I'm muddy and exhausted, although thankfully not bloodied as well like I was last year; I chat briefly to a couple of people, confirm that I've finished this race slower than even my debut race here in 2012, and then flop onto the grass next to Tony. He has run a sensational 3:07 to finish 3rd and is very pleased with himself indeed. And of course I'm extremely, extremely impressed!

Elkie appears not long after I've finished and it seems everyone (well, other than me) has done a great job today. I've managed to win but the fatigue of the Centennial Park Ultra just 2 weeks ago has done a number on my legs - I guess I never should have expected anything different, but somehow I sort of did. Will I ever learn?

After a sausage sandwich and the presentations it's a great pleasure to spend the afternoon and evening relaxing at the Crow with so many other crazy runners, and perhaps because they never really let me work them too hard, my legs aren't even all that sore. My opinion of the Wagga Trail Marathon as one of the toughest, gnarliest courses on the planet has not changed, but I seem to love it nonetheless. Will I be returning next year to defend my title - of course I will!

Wagga Lake Run and Ride 10K, September 2015

The former Lake to Lagoon 9.6km run has now officially become the Wagga Lake Run and Ride 10K. Which is great, really - the old point-to-point course was a real pain in some ways, although finishing right in the middle of town by the lagoon was always a lot of fun.


And it helps that the area where the race both starts and finishes is within easy jogging distance of my house! So this year it was a no-brainer to sign not only myself for the run and Jack for the ride, but I also included Joel for the 10K. So what if he was only due to arrive back from the USA a smidgen over 48 hours prior to the race starting time? Jet lag shmet lag, in my opinion at least.

I've run the new 10K course twice for one second place (2013 - 38:48) and one win (2014 - 39:06), and all that can be said is that it's not an especially easy course. The first mile is flat, the second uphill, the third down...but after that it undulates quite significantly as it winds its way along the shores of Lake Albert. I run in this area every single day and know it like the back of my hand - it's far from the ideal "fast and flat" 10K course that we all long for - but hopefully this counts for something on race day.

A surprisingly tame-looking elevation profile

The Training

Nothing much to say here, just the usual mileage-fest with a small dash of half-hearted speedwork thrown in.....oh, and that race last weekend. Almost forgot about that. I've been thinking for some time that my time has come to slow down, but last weekend demonstrated that I may have been premature in this belief. Tomorrow is going to be an interesting fitness test, if nothing else.


Race Day

One of my favourite things about this event is the start time of 10:30am. Not only does this virtually guarantee a stinking-hot weather situation (good for weeding out the unfit and the unacclimatised), it also means I can sleep in, or at least spend the early morning hours lying lazily in bed devising excuses for why I'm not going to run the sort of 10K time that a person capable of a 2:47:57 marathon really should be able to run. What's not to love about that?

Jet lag is still making its presence felt in the household so I'm awake well before 6am, enough time to devise many useful excuses before rising to prepare and eat my usual toast-and-coffee breakfast, the one that so far has proven safe and effective for races of all distances.

With an hour to go we all head to the start, jogging comfortably along until the neighbourhood dogs inspire us to break into a few strides, with assistance from the local magpie in the form of dive-bombing swoops. It's all good fun, though, and a beautiful day - although this undoubtedly means things will be uncomfortably hot later on.

After Jack sets off on his bike we are milling about near the start line when I see young Hannah - the girl who came 2nd behind me last year - and a few other familiar faces, including Rob who is this year dressed as Flash Gordon. Gotta love small local races!

Muscling our way to the front line, fake muscles optional

I'm not really nervous this year because I know that it's all about who shows up on the day: I'm no spring chicken these days and it will only take one speedy twenty-something runner chick to leave me in the dust. Whatever happens I'm enjoying myself today because it's Joel's first race in Wagga, so we line up together right at the front, ignore the usual dorky warm-up routine, and get ready to have some fun.

Awwww.

Miles 1&2: 5:56, 6:20 (pace in min/mile)

ZOOM! Off we all go at breakneck speed - it's impossible not to join the mayhem and run way, way too fast over the first, flat mile. Hannah is ahead of me until about the 1km mark, and just as I ease past her, a girl in a blue singlet eases past ME on my left. Wait, what? She looks to be running strongly but who knows what will happen during the second, uphill mile - so I hold my ground and stay with her as we head towards the hill.

As usual, the incline starts and people are rapidly fading all around me. My marathon endurance is my strong suit here: I know I can keep going and hopefully even ramp things up again once the hill is over. But the girl in blue - whose name will turn out to be Emma - is showing no signs of slowing down at all. Hmm, this is quite interesting. Should I give up now, or keep trying?


Miles 3&4: 6:16, 6:01

If you answered "give up now", thanks for playing but clearly you've not been paying attention to this blog at all. I have no idea what this girl is capable of, but I'm not letting her get away with anything less than her best. Up to the turn and back down Lake Albert Road towards the lake again, I keep up the effort levels to stay maybe 5-10 seconds behind.

Plenty of people are calling my name and shouting words of encouragement from the other side of the road but I am way too focused to acknowledge many of them - my boss Charles will later tell me I looked very determined, as well as bright red in the face and very hot, when he saw me thundering along down the road. As I speed through the roundabout and back towards the lake I'm already thinking "god I hate short races", but at least there's not too far to go.


Miles 5&6: 6:15, 6:15

Just keep going, just keep going. There are quite a few innocent pedestrians out for a morning stroll around the lake, and dodging them keeps it interesting. Emma is not that far ahead now and she almost collides with a couple of women who are clearly quite oblivious to the torrent of runners that is about to envelop them. Well, now they know. I side-step them neatly and note with glee that Emma finally appears to be tiring - my chance may yet come!

But there's a huffing and a puffing behind me that I can no longer ignore: I'm wondering if it might be Joel but no, it's Marcus, my occasional physiotherapist who has rescued me from injury on a good few occasions now. As he moves to pass me I suddenly realise we are hot on Emma's heels, and the short, nasty uphill by the Boat Club is just around the corner. Ooh! Opportunity knocks - we catch her in the carpark after the sharp incline - and I open the door wide by powering past her without a second thought.

Good grief, I'm in the lead! There is less than a mile to go and I hate short races, I really do now, but it's not time to dwell on that. I have to try to build and hold some sort of lead....and in trying I also pass Marcus back. Perhaps 400m go by before I realise there's someone over my right shoulder - is it him? - oh god no, it's her. Youth trumps ambition as Emma surges past me again and I have nothing with which to respond. Oh well, I did give it my best, and so I focus on not falling too far behind as we approach the finish line and the 6th mile beeps on my Garmin.


Final 0.2: 5:55 pace

I glimpse Mum and Jack on the sidelines and hear him yelling "GO MUM!!" as I charge into the finish chute and finally, thankfully get to stop running at last.

<pained grimace>

Finish time: 38:20 (6:10 pace, 3:50 min/km)

Placement: 8th OA, 2nd female, 1st in AG (F40-49)


Well, that was fun! I didn't win, but I did manage to run a course PR by 28 whole seconds; it's amazing what a difference it makes when you have someone to chase. Joel arrives around 60 seconds behind me - jet lag has done a number on him for sure - and together we rehydrate and mingle until it's time for awards. I'd love to be holding that bloody big trophy again but I'm still very satisfied and happy with the effort I put in today. And I'm still Wagga's fastest old chick!

Looking rather too pleased with myself, really

Racing every weekend is sort of fun, and it so happens that Joel has convinced me to change from the half marathon in Sydney next week to the full marathon. I've never run a marathon as a training run, but there's a first time for everything, or so they say. Let's see what happens, I guess!

Wagga Trail Running Festival, August 2015: Marathon

The second weekend in August is Wagga's annual big running event with multiple races spread out over two days, and I have participated in 2009, 2010, 2012 and 2013. Although the full marathon is a gruelling course it is also somehow thoroughly satisfying, and the whole weekend is so well-organised that I never thought twice about signing up for it again this year.

The first year I ran the marathon I could barely walk for at least 2 days afterwards - I do recover more quickly now but I'm also 3 years older, and it would make more sense to just run the half and not interrupt my training for Melbourne for nearly as long. But as we all know I've never been one to shirk away from a challenge, and the Wagga Trail Marathon is nothing if not a challenge.


Race Day

I wake early and lying in bed I stretch my legs, testing for muscle soreness in the wake of yesterday's slightly unhinged 5K win. Nothing feels TOO terrible, thankfully, but I'm still a little apprehensive about the torture that I'll be putting myself through today. To distract myself I get up and make a coffee and some raisin toast, then retreat back to bed to eat and surf the web until it's time to dress and leave.

Driving to the start area at Wagga Beach, it's a crisp winter's day and moderately foggy but I'm fairly sure things are going to warm up nicely for the start at 8:30am. Watching the start of the Mountain Bike marathon is very amusing - they end up having to run to their bikes, Le Mans-style, and bike cleats don't make for easy running. Snigger, snigger, cyclists.

The first 50m of the race and the river beyond.

We runners all mill around a bit after the bike riders leave, and I spot the girl whom I yesterday identified as my main competition for the event. My other friend Sonia tells me "Ooh, she's FAST" and I'm tempted to ask "Exactly how fast?" but then it's time to line up for our own race briefing; I strip down and decide to forget about the gloves I've brought, but leave my arm warmers on just in case.


Miles 1-4: 7:06, 6:43, 6:52, 6:48 (pace in min/mile)

As predicted, the fast chick (whose name turns out to be Sarah) is in front of me from the very outset, and over the first kilometre or so she stays there, even pulls a bit further ahead as I resign myself - prematurely, perhaps? - to another 2nd place finish like 2013.

I've decided that I can afford to go a bit faster over the first, flat 10K of this course, so I'm aiming for 7:00 pace or so and am pleased to see the first mile tick past right on target. But then I see something even more interesting up ahead of me: Sarah, with a group of 4 or 5 blokes running alongside her, is slowing down! I am caught on the horns of a dilemma - do I speed up to stay with her, pass her even, or just stay where I am?

As usual, what a silly question. Within a few hundred yards more I'm sneaking up beside her and before the 2nd mile is over I've passed her, even opened up a small gap. The pace is undoubtedly too fast now - sub-7:00, for god's sake - but I feel reasonably good and I might as well see if I can win today. Or die trying.


Miles 5-8: 6:45, 7:03, 7:33, 7:13

I manage to keep things ticking over nicely as the now quite spread-out field makes its way towards the first (but by no means last) nasty incline which will take us all the way up Red Hill. A quick glance sideways after the sharp left hand turn towards the base of the hill confirms my suspicions: Sarah is right on my tail, maybe 10 seconds back at most.

And then it begins - I have run hill repeats up Red Hill Rd many times but somehow today it is much steeper. The top section slows me almost to a walk and I feel like kicking the small sign that someone has planted next to the track, which reads "It's a hill. Get over it." I bet the person who put that there isn't racing today.

Cresting the top of the hill - finally - I ignore the water station and find to my relief that I'm able to start actually running again. Some spectators are on horses, which is slightly alarming, but they're well off to the side and one of the riders calls out "Go Rachel!" - I have no idea who it could be, but thanks! And I head off into the hills that lie ahead. One good thing about having run this race twice before is that I know pretty much exactly what to expect; the only downside is that this is, in a word, HILLS.

What goes down must also go up again

Miles 9-12:  7:03, 7:59, 7:12, 6:58
And here come the hills, indeed. I have always thought that the rocky, narrow, winding MTB paths of Pomingalarna are the toughest part of this course, but my 3rd experience has convinced me otherwise: the first half is worse by far. Pomi is hideously technical but the constant stream of hills that attack me during miles 9-11 are punishing in the extreme; I am reduced to almost (note: almost, not actually) walking by the time I reach the summit of each one.

It's very very tough work, but I manage to keep my average pace under 8:00 (only just) and then finally I'm on the big descent towards the half-way point at Silvalite Reserve. I haven't thought much about Sarah behind me while I've been struggling my way uphill, but I'm still more or less expecting her to charge past me in a repeat of what I did to Singlet Girl in 2012. This is mostly what keeps me going and gets my pace under 7:00 again as I continue towards the next challenge: Pomingalarna Reserve.

Look at how my pace crashes with each grey peak, admire the horrible symmetry.

Miles 13-16: 6:57, 7:21, 8:02, 7:33

Through halfway in 1:33:00 exactly (around 5 minutes faster than coach instructed me to, sorry B) I again ignore the water stop - although I've been taking my gels I haven't taken much water so far this race - but I'm not a big sweater and routinely race a half without drinking at all, so I'm not concerned. The weather is getting rather warm though so I pull off my left arm warmer, fold the right one down as far as I can and shove left one in my bra.

Heading up the first long, gradual incline towards Pomingalarna, I'm rather surprised to see quite a few of the slower half-marathoners just ahead. I guess the starting time might have changed, or perhaps I should just pay more attention, but there are more runners around than I was expecting. I'm still too chicken to look around and check for Sarah, so I put my head down and concentrate on what's coming up. Which, of course, is another goddamn bloody hill.

Mile 15 gets tricky and as expected my pace dips below 8:00 for the first time in the race; also I have to slow down to pass quite a few slower runners. I'm ready for this, though, and I know that I only have a few miles of this sort of terrain with which to contend. Let's see if I can get through it unscathed for the 3rd year running......


Miles 17-20: 8:09, 8:20, 8:16, 7:04

And then, halfway through mile 17, it happens. Right at the spot where I almost fell 3 years ago, a short uphill stretch of narrow, root-filled track, I catch my right toe and BAM: down I go.

"Pete's Precipice" - or Rachel's Ruin perhaps?
photo credit: snucklepuff

I'm not moving very fast but I'm hunched right over, there's not far to fall and I have no time whatsoever to restore my balance or even put my hands in front of me. In a split second I find myself lying right in the middle of the track, landing squarely on my chest and, yes, my face. I feel my nose and lower teeth grinding themselves gently into the dirt, and the taste of it is on my tongue as I slide gracefully to a halt.

Wow. Well, that was unexpected. Quite to my own surprise, I immediately jump up and start running again, not in the slightest bit discouraged or upset. I spit out as much of the dirt as I can manage and then I fish out my arm warmer, spit some more and use it to wipe my face. There's a fair bit of blood on it when I'm done and it seems my nose is bleeding - I pinch it firmly and count to 60, but not even this can stop me running. I'm still waiting for Sarah to catch me, which at this point wouldn't be a disaster (winning with my face looking like this is going to be embarrassing), but I'm not giving up yet.

At the drinks table that signals the end of the punishing uphill of Pomingalarna, the guy manning it is quite alarmed at the sight of me and gasps "Are you alright??" but I'm too busy dumping water on my face and my improvised hankerchief to do much more than chirp out "Yep!" and keep moving.

Finally the path opens up and the course heads downhill towards the City Golf course. I feel confident enough to let my legs go once more and am rewarded with a return to my pre-hills pace. Phew! Both knees are scraped and bleeding but they're not slowing me down and I can ignore them quite easily.


Miles 21-24: 6:57, 7:25, 7:05, 7:36

Zoom! I'm overtaking half-marathoners in droves now, zipping past before they can get a look at my beaten-up face. My legs feel surprisingly fresh and I still haven't looked behind me but I suspect Sarah may be a bit further back than I realised. Could I be on track to win this thing after all?? To my great surprise I now catch and pass two of the guys running the marathon who streaked out ahead of me early on; one of them is Marcus, IronMan champion and also my physiotherapist. As I pass I turn to face him and ask "How bad is it??" - he winces and I know the news isn't good.

But still, I'm winning, and that thought is enough to bring a smile to my face - which in turn sort of makes my lip and chin hurt - and keeps me going as the final miles progress. Even the stretch of sand that as good as murdered me in 2012 seems to be much less onerous this time around, and then finally there are only 2 miles to go. Phew!


Miles 25, 26, 0.2: 7:19, 7:14, 6:36 pace to the finish

I'm finally feeling like I want to stop soon, but the beach isn't that far off now. I've stopped checking pace and am just running by feel - I have no idea what sort of finish time I'll be ending up with and somehow I'm not even thinking about that sort of thing. Not much of anything is going through my mind as I bound down the same stairs that I did in the 5K, other than that it's half a mile to the finish and I'll be there very soon. And finally there it is! I'm tempted to look back for Sarah in the same way I did for Singlet Girl in 2012 but I don't - although I do replicate my wild dash for the line, this time it's with a big grin rather than an agonised grimace - and then I'm done at last!


Finish time: 3:11:39 (7:19 pace)

Placement: 1st female, 5th overall, 1st in AG (F40-49)

"Don't try putting those bandaids on my face. I'm serious."
photo credit: Ewen Thompson

Without much delay the St John's Ambulance guy drags me into the medical tent to examine my wounds. I humour him for a bit but then get fairly bossy when he looks like he wants to put dressings on my knees and face. That is NOT happening - I do let him wipe off most of the dirt and then I set off in search of dry clothes.

I'm fairly stunned at my finish time, actually - it's a 5 minute course PR and almost 10 minutes faster than I expected to run! I must be fitter than I realised, and that's quite a gratifying thought. I change quickly before it's time for the awards ceremony, where I am the happy recipient of a truly amazing trophy and also a nice envelope of cash.

Fast chicks unite! Oldest and shortest in the middle, thanks.

Analysis

What an absolute surprise, a win and a big course PR to boot! I'm quite amazed at myself on several counts today: not only for running so well on such a tough course, but also for being so utterly unfazed by what can only be described as a total faceplant with almost 10 miles left to run. I could so easily have been discouraged or upset at falling but somehow I brushed it off with barely a second thought. Maybe I'm tougher than I realised - this is good news for the rest of the year. Next up? Melbourne marathon with an elite bib! Another course PR there would be lovely -- stay tuned.

Wagga Wagga Trail Marathon 2013

As the defending champion of 2012, of course I felt it necessary to enter the Wagga Trail marathon when the opportunity arose again. It is an extremely hilly and tough course - the perfect thing for the day after you return from a week of skiing/no running, in fact - but given that Wagga has all of 3 running events per annum, it's hard to justify not participating.

The Training
I did manage to squeeze in a single 20-miler in the weeks following Gold Coast, but otherwise it was just a bunch of running around aimlessly, really. Actually running some hilly traily-type of courses might well have helped in preparing for this race, but oh well, I never managed to fit it in. In fact, after twice running the Pomigalana hills-of-death with the Wagga Road Runners and twice coming off second-best, I was probably suffering from trail-induced post-traumatic stress disorder.

Course elevation profile, more food for nightmares

Race Day
Having returned from a very active week of skiing just the evening before the marathon, I continue my holiday habit of lying motionless in bed for some time after waking. As a result I eventually get up a whole hour after I was intending to, and then I decide to eat a piece of toast and drink coffee even though the race is only 1.5 hours away. Good idea or suicidal? Only time will tell.

It's a beautiful, slightly cloudy winter morning and the perfect temperature (around 5C/41F)  as I drive to the start at the lovely "Wagga Beach", a stretch of sand on the banks of the Murrumbidgee River near the centre of town. The route of the marathon will take us in a full loop around Wagga to end back here, and I know from experience it is a punishingly tough course.

Miles 6-20 are a constant procession of hills, with some seriously narrow, technical mountain bike trails and a sprinkling of fences just to keep it interesting. The last 6 miles are flat, but there are multiple stiles to climb and stretches of soft sand to contend with - it's going to be a difficult morning no matter what.

Wagga Beach

I'm hanging out with last year's male winner, Rob, chatting and checking out the competition when he points out a group of people not far away. One is a woman, about my height but obviously a good deal younger. She has thigh muscles like I've never seen before on a runner, and he informs me her name is Hanny Allston. All he tells me at this point is that she was an orienteering World Champion, but it's enough for me - I know instantly that the best I can hope for today is 2nd place. Oh well, at least I'll still aim for a course PR, but some of the shine has gone off the day already. Sigh.

The start is predictably casual - I'm right in the front row, of course - and before I know it we're off. Wheee!

Miles 1-3: 7:07, 7:00, 7:07
Hanny takes off at sub-3 pace, Rob in lock-step with her (he's told me already his goal is sub-3, and I know he has the speed to achieve this although it would be an 8 minute PR over his time from last year) and I hold back the desire to go with them. This isn't hard to do, as there are steps and a few slippery gravel parts to the first mile along the river levee bank. I can't quite believe the pace at which the runners ahead of me are taking these obstacles, in fact. Am I the only person who wants to wimp out when confronted with a slippery obstacle course? I'm such a pathetic devotee of the asphalt.

Miles 4-6: 6:58, 6:58, 7:20
I'm going rather too fast for a couple of miles here, but I know I can afford to bank a little time because of what's coming up. And sure enough, in mile 6 begins the painful climb up Red Hill - the first but definitely not the last of the big hills. In contrast to last year, by the time I reach the base of Red Hill I'm pretty much running all on my own. This is not good for my mental state - combine that with the knowledge of what lies ahead, and I am not enjoying this as much as I thought I would. Oh well, onward and upward....

Miles 7-9: 7:24, 7:07, 7:31
I realise now that pace-wise I'm holding my own rather well through the first few hills, and this is a pleasant surprise. The sun has come out and it's warmer than I was expecting, but on the whole the weather is really cooperating extremely well. At the first drink station I ended up wearing most of the water I grabbed - the cups are plastic and impossible to pinch into a spout, like you can with paper cups - so I have now adopted a new policy of stopping at the water tables and making sure I get a good mouthful in before I run on. I usually hate to stop whilst running, but I don't have a good option here and in fact so far it's working out fine.

The trail marathon circumnavigates the town of Wagga - the squiggly bit top left is through Pomigalana Reserve.

Miles 10-12: 7:58, 7:12, 7:06
The steepest incline of the race comes during mile 10, but it's tempered for me by the pleasant experience of running past an early starter - she's tiptoeing daintily along and wearing an iPod - I can't imagine she hears me coming but as I pass she calls out to me "I love your blog!" and that's so nice to hear that I almost forget that I'm practically dying up this horrible hill. I wanted to keep my pace under 8:00 min/mile for the whole of this race, but mile 10 gets awfully close. The downhills that eventually follow allow me to make up a bit of time, but I'm painfully aware that the worst is yet to come.

Miles 13-15: 7:13, 7:35, 7:59
Shortly before half-way, something weird happens. There's this guy that I've been gradually catching over the past 4-5 miles, eventually passing him around mile 12. About half a mile later he suddenly emerges in front of me as I make my way across the flat stretch of trail leading into the half-way relay changeover point. How did he get ahead without me seeing him?? I give him a dirty look - clearly he's cut a corner somehow - and he sheepishly calls out "I keep getting lost...." Good thing for him he's not a chick - I would have been much more annoyed.

Through the half in around 1:34, I'm hoping that will still set me up for a time around 3:10-3:12. But under the highway and up towards Pomigalana, those hopes start to fade. The hills there are bad enough when you're running them fresh - after 14 miles already? Forget it.

The worst part is that this year I don't have anybody to chase. I'm passing a few early starters here and there, but last year was so different. It was a battle to catch and then pass the one female ahead of me - I'm about to realise how helpful that battle was in keeping me going through the treacherous trails of Pomigalana.

Miles 16-19: 7:48, 8:10, 8:25
Wow, there goes my pace. The first mile north of 8:00 pace of the entire race, followed by my slowest mile EVER in this race - worse that mile 24 through the sand last year - that number does a total number on me mentally. The thought goes through my head "Just pull back and jog it in comfortably, it's not like you're going to win it anyway" and I must admit that the idea of saving myself some pain and suffering is extremely appealing. I've had a side stitch since just before mile 13 (the revenge of the toast? probably) and it's getting worse by the minute; it appears to be alternating with a weird pain in my left hip flexors, and putting it simply, I'm just NOT having fun today. Why kill myself into the bargain? But I do still want to beat last year's time....and that's about the extent of my ambition at this point. Sigh.

Miles 20-22: 7:29, 7:23, 7:43
The long downhill beside the City Golf Course is a welcome relief. Last year this is where I caught Singlet Girl, then two blokes - this year there's almost nobody in sight. I pause for a cup of water, then shoot through the turnstile and head left down the road. Are we there yet? Mum? ARE WE THERE YET??

Beautiful river, even after 24 miles of hell to get there...

Miles 23-25: 7:28, 7:41, 7:51
The finishing miles along the Murrumbidgee River (above) are somehow not as bad as I'm expecting. Serendipity, or perhaps random vandalism, has turned several of the stiles into non-events, as the fence beside at least 3 of them appears to have vanished. Nice! And the stretch of sand at mile 24 is not nearly as long as I remember it - I'm keeping the pace under 8:00! Small things like that please me greatly at this point.

Around mile 25 I see two blokes jogging along ahead of me, and one of them is in fact my supervisor at work - he doesn't run much but announced to me a few weeks ago that he'd be running the half and expected to finish just ahead of me. Since both half and full marathons started at the same time, I assumed he was being funny - but no, that's definitely him up ahead. As I approach he turns and starts jogging backwards. Does he have a cramp?? I start to worry that maybe he's in trouble, but no, he greets me cheerily and steps easily aside to let me past. Wow, very bizarre.

Mile 26, finish: 7:46, 6:28 pace to finish.
I really don't feel nearly as bad as I did last year at this point, but I just can't be bothered even trying to stay near my stated goal pace of 7:30 for the final few miles. I have a small kick left as I get into the final stretch of the race, and actually crossing the line is fabulous for the simple fact that now I get to stop running at last - does it show on my face??

Finish line, OMG finally!

Finish time: 3:16:09 (7:31 min/mile)

Placement: 2nd female, 9th OA. 1st in AG (F40-44)

I soon hear that Hanny Allston won but was only 7 minutes ahead of me - a quick Google search on my phone leads me to the page linked at the top of this entry, describing her talents and also her age (27) - it's some consolation that she is 16 years younger than me and technically I could actually be her MOTHER, oh my god. I devise a quick handicap system in my head - a minute per year of age difference - and decide that based on this I have just won by nine minutes, then I accept my $25 gift card for winning my AG, and go home to get my kids. We spend the next couple of hours by the river, which means they get to get thoroughly wet and cover their clothes with sand/mud, and I get to lie on the grass in the shade and watch. The perfect win-win situation!

The Analysis:

It's all about who shows up on the day, really. I'm happy to have bettered last year's time by 3 minutes, and relieved that nothing fell apart after my slothful week at the snow. Not winning again is disappointing, but them's the breaks. Next up? Capitalising on my current ability to get elite status at major marathons. That one is most definitely not going to last - so I need to make the most of it while I can.