Boston Marathon 2013

Before I start this race report, I want to take the opportunity to express how horrified and shocked I was at the events which unfolded near the finish line of the Boston Marathon on Boylston St at 2:50pm.

Terrorism is a threat we are all aware of, yet most of us have never have to face head-on. On Monday afternoon that threat came to Boston, and a child died. Two more young people lost their lives, and dozens of others were injured. Even worse was the fact that many had lost limbs in the blast - something no runner ever could, or should, have to think about. 

Running the Boston Marathon is the crowning achievement in the lives of so many runners, and waiting to see them finish is how their friends and family support and celebrate that achievement with them. It is unthinkable that these people were hurt doing something so loving and positive. One of my online running friends expressed how many of us feel on his blog, and a quote from Josh Cox that sums up how I and all my friends who were in Boston on Monday surely feel:

"Not sure what the cowards tried to accomplish but I do know they picked the wrong group of people to try and break and discourage.  Runners are the strongest people I know". 

My own response to the bombings, and that of many other runners I know, has been not just horror and sorrow, but one of affirmation: we want to come back to Boston. We want to show that we will not be cowed or frightened by terrorism, that we will return and support the city of Boston as it recovers and heals from this awful act of violence.

That all said, the story of Boston 2013 for me is one that began with an email I received on March 1st, which read: 
Based on your qualifying performance you have been selected to participate in the Elite Women's Start for the 2013 Boston Marathon. 

My qualifying time was the 2:51:54 I ran in Honolulu in December 2012, and although the official qualifying time for the EWS is sub-2:50, my status as a Masters runner meant I was still offered a place - which I was delighted to accept.


The Training
Once again I (loosely) followed a plan by Pete Pfitzinger, emphasising quantity over quality, but building in a fair amount of marathon-pace training and the occasional tempo run. My pre-taper mileage averaged 99mpw (160km) over 10 weeks, and although the one tune-up HM that I ran was something of a bust - much hillier and trail-ier than I was expecting - I felt reasonably confident that I was in PR shape heading to Boston.


The Travel
Ohhhh, what a disaster. After flying in from Wagga I arrived serene and relaxed at the Customs area in Sydney's International Terminal, only to be told "QF11....hmm.....you need to go back. I'm not sure they are flying today". All together now: WHAT???

It turned out that the A380 plane scheduled to fly me to LA was "unserviceable". I was told that I would get a hotel room for the night and fly out on Saturday instead. Obviously this was not something I was capable of considering, even for a minute. I spent the next 90 minutes in a whir of panic and adrenaline, but was able to apply a mixture of persistence ("Isn't there SOMEONE I can talk to?"), begging ("Re-route me via Buenos Aires! Via London? JUST PLEASE GET ME THERE!!") and cockiness ("Actually, I'm an elite athlete, and I really need to get to Boston...") to get myself on the next flight, leaving only 45 minutes after my original flight was supposed to.

After another drama involving problems locating my bag - and a brief period when I reconciled myself to leaving without it - I was first "on standby" for the United flight, then finally my seat was confirmed. My thoughts of a leisurely 90 minutes in the Qantas Club were replaced by a reality in which I ran probably 7-8 laps of the terminal (between the "On-Hand Luggage Room" and the Qantas Sales Desk), chewed through a month's worth of adrenaline, and finally made it through Customs and security as my plane was already boarding. I don't think I actually breathed out until the plane was airborne -- but I made it to Boston only half an hour late, not 24. What a ride!


Boston, Boston, Boston
It was simply fantastic to be back in Boston and I took every opportunity to meet up with both real and imaginary Runners World friends as we all enjoyed the pre-race buzz. 

RWOL legends: a Sandbagger, a Tiger, a random Aussie and Greg...

The Expo was an insanely tempting experience - I could have bought one of just about EVERYTHING. I held it back as much as I was able, but still walked away with a veritable mountain of blue-and-yellow Boston paraphenalia. This would come in very handy in the tragic aftermath of the marathon, when all everyone wanted to do was wear Boston colours.

The other highlight of the Expo was meeting up with the INKnBURN crew - my awesome sponsors - for a photo op with a bunch of other fast runners.

Whoa, look at all those funky running clothes! (and Steven's hat...)

On Sunday I attended a pre-race briefing for the elite athletes and managed to bump into the only other Australian woman in the EWS - it was great to know that I would at least have one person to talk to on the morning of the race! The details about drug testing and the award ceremony seemed pretty irrelevant and the briefing was over very quickly.

Race Day
I'm awake fairly easily at 5:30am after retiring early the night before. I scoff down a Clif bar and a banana, and start sipping on Gatorade. My race outfit (with many thanks to INKnBURN) is already laid out with front AND back bibs already pinned:

so it's a simple matter of getting dressed and heading to the Fairmont Copley Plaza to board the BAA Elite athlete bus.

The ride out to Hopkinton - apart from being terrifyingly long ("I have to run ALL THAT WAY back?? Oh My GOD") - is another surreal experience. There is an actual police escort for the 5 swanky coaches that swiftly convey myself and a wide selection of current and former Olympic marathoners to a church adjacent to the start line. At every on-ramp there's a line of traffic, called to a halt by a motorbike policeman until we pass. It's literally unbelievable!

At the church I find a chair and sit around feeling intimidated. There are lanky Africans (both male and female elites are at the church) all over the place, lying on mats (some with towels over their heads) with legs in the air, just hanging out. It's colder than I expected downstairs, so I relocate fairly quickly to the balcony that runs around the upper level and find myself outside a room containing not only Shalane Flanagan and Kara Goucher, but also Sheri Piers, a formidable Masters athlete who was written up in the Runners World magazine I read on the plane. Whoa.

Then I look down at the people below and for god's sake, there's Rob de Castella!! He is wearing a jacket with "Indigenous Marathon Project" on the back and sitting with an Aboriginal girl, who I assume is running the race. I rack my brains for a way of introducing myself to him but can't come up with anything, so when I see my fellow Aussie (Sharon) nearby, I head over and whisper excitedly, "Deek is down there!!" She immediately says "Let's go say hi!" and off we go down the stairs.

Deek turns out to be as awesome a guy as I would have imagined, and we chat for a while. He asks what advice I’d give to Emma, his runner who is here to run her first marathon. I tell her “Take it easy until the top of Heartbreak Hill, then run your heart out!” She laughs but she’s nervous, so we head back upstairs and leave her in peace.

Finally it's time to go outside for our 9:32am start. The top 20 women are called by name and lined up to go out first. I am in awe. Then the rest of us follow them up a narrow path to the starting area, and it's seriously like I'm in a small local race, not the most famous World Marathon Major. 

Fuzzy but there I am, on the left about 3 rows back

I jog around a bit between the two human chains of volunteers that separate us from the corrals behind and the race/press vehicles ahead, then briefly say a brave hello to Sheri (who is very sweet and encouraging) before deciding just to stand still and enjoy the moment. The top athletes are lined up at the front - Kara, Shalane, Rita Jeptoo (who will go on to win the race) and Sharon Cherop (1st last year and 3rd this year) for a photo op - and then with surprisingly little fanfare, off we go.


Miles 1-2: 6:18, 6:22 (pace in min/mile as per Garmin)
The women on the line spring forwards and as a group we set off at a pace that seems wrong to me - I can actually keep up! We glide along with the press and official vehicles smoothly leading the way. Half a mile in I have to do it, I check my Garmin and it tells me we're doing 6:00 pace. God, it's tempting to try and keep up, but I need to ease it back - this is pretty much my 5K pace and there's no way on earth I am going to be able to hold it for another 25.7 miles! At mile 2 I remember I need to take my first GU, so I yank it out of my bra and suck it down quickly.

Gradually I begin to drop back and am rewarded with mile splits that are a little closer to my goal pace, and  I make a sudden decision to aim for 6:25 min/mile, which equals 4:00 min/km. When I first started running and racing, that was my ultimate top racing speed, so it's almost preposterous that I'm trying to run that fast for a whole marathon, but whatever! Also, it makes the mental math much easier as I go through each 5K marker. I'm going to need things to be simple, especially later in this race. 


Miles 3-4: 6:12, 6:15 -- 5K split 19:42
So much for slowing it down. I now find myself the leader of a little pack of 3: I know there are more women behind me, but not many, so there's no way I'm going to let these two pass me. One is someone with whom I chatted briefly at the church - her name is Perry and I know her PR is slower than mine, so I'm bemused as to why she's pushing me along at sub-6:20 pace - oh well, I guess we'll see what happens.


Miles 5-6: 6:26, 6:15
One mile that's more like it, but then oops, off we go again. Is this going to be a recurring theme? I feel great, though, really fresh and bouncy. The lead pack are still within sight, although they are stretching out as a few more women fall behind. We catch and pass my fellow Aussie during mile 6.


Miles 7-8: 6:16, 6:20 -- 10K split 39:30
Perry and my other shadow (whose name I later discover is Lisa) are still pounding along just behind me. This pace really is way too fast, so I ask quietly "Um, what time are you shooting for, Perry?" She replies "2:48 would be great", but her breathing is giving her away - I'm quite convinced she is even crazier than I am at this point. I tell her we really don't need to push any harder, we're ahead of 2:48 pace now, but she doesn't respond. We catch and pass a crazy Finn called Jutta sometime during mile 8.


Miles 9-10: 6:17, 6:19 -- 15K split 59:10
We hit 10 miles in around 1:03:30, which is a 10 mile PR for me and not surprising, since that distance is not raced in Australia and my 2 previous 10 milers were run in Scotland many years ago. I start to wonder about whether anyone who is tracking me right now is at home yelling at the computer, because I'm still going way too fast. But many of my closest running friends are somewhere behind me on the course, so I don't dwell on it for too long.

Lisa, me, Perry. None of us look too thrilled.

Miles 11-12: 6:25, 6:14
Slowest mile yet, then overcompensating once again. The halfway mark is approaching and wow, I'm a long way head of goal pace. I know this could all end very badly -- but I'm not slowing down. Maybe it's the elite start, maybe the girls behind me, maybe it's sheer stupidity or a combination of all three, but I've realised that today I'm running the race of my life. It's time to see what I've really got in me....


Miles 13-14: 6:16, 6:16 -- 20K split 1:18:48
Through halfway in 1:23:13?? HOLY CRAP - that's a new half PR. Am I really on track for 2:46? No - a positive split (aka fading at the end) is inevitable, I know this now. A moment of fear hits me, then I quickly pull it together and push the negative thoughts from my mind. Mile 14, time for another gel, and some water from the overenthusiastic volunteers - they've been waiting hours to hand out water to the runners and they are all straining to give me a cup.


Miles 15-16: 6:28, 6:21 -- 25K split 1:38:48
Oh, hello, Newton Hills! Last year you guys didn't phase me at all - this year is going to be different. Suddenly I realise I've lost Perry, and I have no idea if Lisa is still behind me or not (she is, but about 10 seconds back now). I focus on effort level and try to keep it even. The 25K split reassures me that I'm still on target, even if I'm not sure my target is entirely sane.


Miles 17-18: 6:32, 6:34
I know I'm slowing down now, so I quit looking at the Garmin altogether. I was expecting the elite men's leaders to pass me by now, so I occupy my thoughts wondering where they are and thinking up smart things to say to my running friend Reed, who did the math and told me the men would catch me at mile 15-16. I called him a "math geek" at the time - I'm going to enjoy ribbing him about how wrong he was.

Somewhere around 30K; I'm pointing my left hand down - not a good sign.

Miles 19-20: 6:25, 6:25 -- 30K split 1:59:10

At mile 19 I suddenly hear a helicopter overhead - and then hey presto, I have my own bicycle spotter! In fact, the few women up ahead (whom I am slowly catching on the hills) also have spotters. THE MEN ARE COMING!! Bike Guy and I exchange greetings and he says "I'm just going to stay with you until the press van comes through, okay?". I'm all, "OKAY!" - I mean, this is pretty darn awesome - and we speed along together for the next half mile.

At this point I really, REALLY want to cross the road in order to run the tangent. There's no sign of either press van or African men, so I tell Bike Guy and he apologises for making me run long, but he's not willing to risk me getting squished by an official vehicle. I stay on the right. A truck with a small grandstand finally goes past, with a bunch of guys holding enormous cameras.....and then at mile 19.75 by my Garmin, a group of 5 African men sweeps past me like I'm standing still. 

Here they come!

The crowd are going NUTS and although I know it's not for me, I have this ridiculous grin plastered across my face and I'm giving them waves and thumbs-up like an idiot. Wow, what an experience.

Miles 21-22: 6:39, 6:18 -- 35K split 2:19:38
Heartbreak Hill is, appropriately, my slowest mile so far. But I'm still running consistent 20 minute 5K splits, which is frankly amazing. Several more men - including the fastest American man, Jason Hartmann - pass me in this mile, which brings renewed roaring from the crowd. I can feel my quads protest as the downhill begins after Heartbreak; this is a very different sensation to last year, when the problem was the relentless heat, not my legs. Uh oh, is this the beginning of the end? I am reassured to see that I am somehow back on sub-6:20 pace for mile 22. How long can I keep it going??


Miles 23-24: 6:18, 6:25 -- 40K split 2:39:55
I'm using all kinds of mental trickery just to keep my legs going at this point. I know I've fuelled well - I ate like a carbohydrate-addicted pig in the 48 hours prior to the race, and I've taken all 4 of my gels right on time - and I know I've trained well, with more volume than just about anyone I know. They say you run the first third of a marathon with your brain, the second with your personality and the third with your heart - I'm all heart at this point, and so focused that I completely miss several groups of friends who tell me later they were yelling at me in these last few miles.

Digging deep.

Miles 25-26.2: 6:34, 6:43, 6:10 pace to finish
Finally I'm running out of steam, but by God I'm almost there. I remember well the turns that are coming up - right onto Hereford, left onto Boylston - and just how far away that finish line is when you look up, and I'm ready for it this year I suppose. But it's still a bloody long way! 

Booking it onto Boylston St.

Running as hard as my legs will let me, I look up to see the clock relentlessly ticking towards 2:21. Around mile 15 the clocks reset to the men's race time - 28 minutes less than mine - and I'm too out of it right now to do the simple arithmetic to figure out what finish time I'm headed for; I simply put my head down and GO.

Finish time: 2:49:03, 6:27 pace (4:00.47 min/km!)

Placement: 39th OA female, 5th Master and 5th AG

This one is getting framed for sure.

After crossing the line it's a wonderful relief to stop running - and I feel surprisingly good as I walk slowly towards the entrance to the VIP tent. I take a bottle of water and start sipping it as I walk, and then just outside the entrance I see Deek again. I stop and tell him my result, he's lovely and congratulates me warmly. Inside the tent I chat to a few of the other women, and find that Lisa (F113) finished just 30 seconds behind me. Turns out she's a triathlete and mostly does Ironman events - she only runs around 40 miles per week! Insane that she can run sub-2:50 on that sort of training.

Someone now hands me my bag (Incredible! No walking or lining up!) and I go off to an extremely roomy portable toilet to change into my spare tights and my jacket. After snagging some Gatorade and food and talking to Perry (who is a little disappointed to have run 2:58) I head out to find my friends Joel and David, who were running together and shooting for around 2:50. As I walk towards the finish line they are right there, and have run 2:50 and 2:49 respectively! They're both very sweaty and very happy with their huge PRs, and we smugly pose for a picture together.

Aftermath and Analysis

I return to grab my stuff and some extra food from the VIP tent, and then the 3 of us wander down Boylston St through the finish area, making our way to the buses where the guys need to retrieve their baggage. We bump into our RWOL buddy Greg, who is surprised and delighted to see us, and from there we head back to the hotel for a welcome shower and fresh clothes.

We're walking through the lobby of the Sheraton on our way to lunch when it becomes apparent that something weird is going on. A woman is on her phone, yelling something about explosions near the finish line. Outside I see a runner with teeth chattering, clearly freezing - where is his space blanket? He's dressed in just his running clothes. Another older male runner is heading past and tells us "They stopped the race!" We are in shock: the Boston marathon, stopped? This cannot be true. But the air is full of sirens, and multiple police cars and ambulances are racing past as we stand watching.

At a nearby Thai restaurant we sit and stare at each other, and then simultaneously everyone's phone goes insane. Text messages, calls, Facebook messages: "ARE YOU OKAY?" We find out about the bombings at the finish line from people hundreds of miles away, in New York City and Michigan. The news filters in slowly: first it's gas explosions, then a fire, then the word terrorism emerges. Another bomb has been found, maybe a few more -- now we are wondering, is it even safe to go back outside? I know my placement as 5th female Master means I have won prize money, but there won't be an awards ceremony to attend anymore. The Fairmont is about 200 yards away from the bombings and now it's part of the crime scene.

Eventually we make our way back to the Sheraton and up to our room, where the news is full of the explosions and reports of people dead and injured. Silent, we watch in horror. The jubilation of personal best times is lost; it feels wrong to even talk about how we ran. Joy is replaced by fear and shock.

Boston is normally full of people and life in the evening after the marathon, but tonight - when we finally venture out and skirt nervously around the cordoned-off area that surrounds Boylston St and the finish line - it's quiet and eerily empty. Walking back after dinner, there are SWAT vans and heavily-armed police all around; we have to duck under police tape to get back to the hotel.

As I flew back to LA on the first leg of my trip home, news broke that the second suspect in the marathon bombings had been caught. For so many of us who ran Boston 2013, this news brought with it a huge feeling of relief. It does not change the fact that 3 people were killed by these criminals, and it does not change the fact that many of the survivors will be maimed for life. But it affirms the fighting spirit of Americans, who refuse to be daunted by fear and terror. This photo, shared by a friend on Facebook, sums it up well for me:

And as for my race performance, it's pretty simple to figure out where this one came from. I trained like a maniac and ran to my absolute potential on Patriot's Day 2013. Being given elite status was inspiring and I knew early in the race that I was going to put it all on the line. Typically when racing I do not like to take risks; I'd rather leave some time on the course than risk a major blow-up. But on Monday in Boston I took that risk, and it paid off in spectacular fashion. 

My next PR attempt won't be until Boston 2014, where I will have automatic Elite status that I am definitely going to pursue. Until then I'm going to enjoy running, and the simple fact that I can. I'll be wearing a lot of blue and yellow as I do this - my small way of remembering and paying tribute to the victims of the Boston marathon tragedy.

Honolulu Marathon, December 2012

Honolulu may seem like an odd place to go to run a marathon. Even in winter, the weather is generally warm and humid - not ideal marathoning conditions by most people's standards - and the course includes a couple of hills around the Diamond Head crater. But for me, for a few reasons Honolulu makes great sense as a destination marathon.

Firstly, it's not such a long trip from the east coast of Australia. It's about half the travel time compared to New York - which I was originally intending to run - and the time difference (effectively only 3 hours) is vastly easier to overcome. When NYC marathon was cancelled in the wake of Hurricane Sandy it seemed like fate was on my side, and then when the other option, CIM, turned out to be a weather disaster (rain and gale-force winds), I figured Hawaii was definitely the place to be.

Secondly, as I proved at Boston earlier this year, hot weather isn't necessarily a disaster for me and my marathon performance. I ran - and won - a local 11km (6.75 mile) race recently in 90+ degree temperatures and full sun, averaging around 6:12 min/mile. I'm actually not sure if I do run better in cold conditions; at any rate, warmth doesn't seem to slow me down as much as it could. I think I'm fortunate in this regard.

The Training 

After the Wagga trail marathon in August, I recovered for a bit and then launched into my most ambitious (and strenuous) Pfitzinger training plan to date: a 12 week plan, peaking at 105 miles per week, and early on I set my goal marathon pace at 6:31 minutes per mile. This would, in theory, get me a race time of 2:50:30 - ambitious, for sure, but not necessarily impossible.

All this went quite well with no major niggles or threatened injuries, and during the cycle I ran a 10K PR (38:13, at the end of my 3rd consecutive week over 100 miles) and also a 5K PR in the same race (18:47ish). In my usual OCD style I added miles to the first week of taper, so my training cycle became 10 weeks averaging just under 97mpw, then a 2 week taper up to race day. 

The Travel 

Honolulu marathon has been described to me as the Japanese equivalent of Boston, and sure enough the first thing to strike me as we walked around Waikiki in the few days before the race was the incredible numbers of Japanese tourists, many of them dressed in outlandish running outfits (even when clearly not out for a run), and large groups of them jogging along the beachfront at Waikiki or doing strange stretching drills in the park. 

The expo was absolutely hilarious - very little merchandise, with Adidas as the only major sponsor, but everything with a distinct Japanese flavour. If I had wanted a pink frilly running skirt with fluorescent striped capri leggings attached, I could have been the happy owner of one that day. I have never seen cutlery on sale at a marathon expo before either, but I could have taken some home if I had wanted to.

To my surprise, the only type of energy gels on sale at this expo were Honey Stinger ones, a brand we don't have in Australia and which I have therefore never tried. GU gels are my usual choice, but it seemed dumb to bring some when they cost 1/3 as much in the USA as they do in Australia. When there were no GUs to be found, obviously I had to get something, so I chose a selection of flavours (both with and without caffeine) and hoped for the best.

For this marathon, as with CIM and Boston, I had the distinct advantage of being able to talk with friends who have run the course before and were able to make some wise observations, ones that would prove very useful to me during the race. Weslie - my CIM roommate and Oahu local - has run Honolulu many times and we drove part of the course together on our way to a VERY yummy brunch on Friday (thanks, Wes!). She made the comment that once you get back off the freeway there are only 4 miles to go, and that helped me a lot in planning the final miles of the race.

My final pre-race run was a nice 5 miler around Diamond Head with my other Honolulu-based RWOL friend Yo, who also talked me through the race and in particular the best approach to the hills that miles 7-9 and 24-25 would bring. We parted company at the finish line with a plan to meet near there again in just under 24 hours' time.

I finished that run with a 3 minute sprint down Waikiki beach (dodging surfboard-wielding tourists, possibly a rather foolhardy idea) and back in the hotel room I began my version of the Aussie carb-loading regime by drinking lots of Gatorade, followed by a day lounging around by the hotel pool gorging on bagels and toast, Clif bars, fries, peanut butter M&Ms….a smorgasbord of carbohydrates that left me feeling gross and full all day. After a comparatively light dinner we retired at 8:30pm with multiple alarms set all over the room, the earliest for 2:45am to ensure we would make it to the buses before 4am.

Race Day

I'm actually already awake before the first alarm goes off, and I have no trouble hopping straight out of bed and into my race outfit, which I have prepared (yes, OCD again) the night before and laid out with my shoes and various other accessories. At 3am I wash down a peanut butter Clif bar with some coffee-flavoured milk. By 3:30 I'm out the door and walking to Honolulu Zoo, where rows of buses are waiting to transport runners to the start line near Ala Moana.

At the start area there are indeed a LOT of people in what seems like fancy dress. I'm expecting to run the first 2 hours of the race in darkness, but it's 76F/24C already and so I'm wearing the bare minimum: a pink running bra, my lucky pink shorts, toe socks and my ageing ASICS Gel Racer 9s. Around me there are many people who look like they're going to be out there for 5 hours and more, but are wearing full-length tights and shirts, with all manner of weird clothing over the top. There's a person who appears to be dressed as a taco. And oh my god, over there is Minnie Mouse, the Asian runner dude whom I have seen at Boston and NYC already. This guy is everywhere!

I make a last-minute dash for the porta-johns, and then finally I push my way as close to the starting line as I can (Yo and Wes have both warned me that the self-seeded start is a total bunfight, with walkers up front going for the photo opportunity, so I have no qualms about shoving my way forwards) and wait for the gun. But there's no gun, instead there are fireworks! And so begins the 40th Honolulu Marathon, with me heading out to run the race of my life.

Miles 1-3: 6:28, 6:36. 6:20 (pace in min/mile)

It's not too congested, to my surprise, and I'm able to hit goal pace pretty easily for the first mile. Minnie Mouse appears to my left and charges ahead of me at the first intersection. Whoa - is he going too fast or am I going too slow? Checking my Garmin is something of a challenge since it's still pitch dark, but I manage it nonetheless. All around me are men (that's normal) and everyone pounds along in silence through the darkened streets. There are groups of cheering supporters here and there; at mile 2 they seem to be yelling out "Almost done!". Really?? Listening closer I conclude they are probably yelling something in Japanese. Or they are Japanese who really think we're nearly done. Either is possible I guess....

After 2.5 miles I decide it's time to take my first gel, a change in strategy that is entirely due to a recent discussion with my online running group about fueling. My skimpy outfit has made it a challenge to find places to store all 4 gels, so I have one in each pocket and two in my bra. The latter two are kind of annoying me, actually, so I fish one out and find it's strawberry flavour, with caffeine. I tear it open and manage to get it down.

Miles 4-6: 6:22, 6:22, 6:28

I'm able to effortlessly pick up the pace very slightly during this section, which takes us back through Waikiki and past our hotel.This is what Yo advised me to do, and so far I'm settling in very comfortably. Ahead of me is a guy wearing a retro-type red outfit and he has a mop of very curly hair that he has attempted to stuff into a dark cap. He reminds me of someone I know from RWOL - A Muse, who ran a 2:46 earlier this year - and he seems to be running exactly at my target pace. Shadowing him, whilst thinking over many of the bits of running wisdom that A Muse has imparted to me over the years (and some of the fights, including the time he called my roadrunner-210-steps-per-minute cadence "ridiculous"), keeps my mind happily occupied for these few miles.

Speeding along in the dark

During the latter part of mile 6 we approach the finish area but turn left and head around the edge of Kapiolani Park as we make our approach to Diamond Head. Suddenly I'm in amongst a group of maybe 6-8 guys. One of them asks me what place I'm in amongst the women. I laugh and tell him honestly that I have NO idea, but I'm not an elite. I'd love to stay and chat but I look at my Garmin and they're going way too slow, so I pull ahead and start chasing the next group: a tight-knit pack of 5 runners whom I will be seeing ahead of me for much of the next 2 hours. I go through the 10K mark in 40:14 - a bit faster than my stated goal pace, but on track to break 2:50. So far it still feels possible…..

Miles 7-9: 6:26, 6:39, 6:26

Rather evil elevation chart

Off we go up the steep hill that I've run so many times when I've been in Hawaii. It's every bit as steep as I remember, but I'm handling it well and soon I catch and pass the group ahead. One has a purple singlet with "COACH" on the back (I assume this is to do with running, not the luxury handbags) and another is shirtless with grey running shorts and yellow Newtons. They're clearly shooting for sub-2:50 and I wonder if I can stay with them for the rest of the race. A couple of wheelchair racers are struggling up the incline and I pass them too. God, that looks like bloody hard work.

As I continue upwards a street light must be out, because suddenly I'm running in almost total darkness. I can't check my Garmin at all so I just keep going, and mile 8 turns out to be my slowest so far. Quite abruptly there is also a very strong headwind, and I'm running by myself now so I can't tuck in behind anyone. It strikes me that this wind is going to be a big problem if it doesn't die down soon. Finally I reach the top of the hill and am rewarded with a sharp right hand turn into a moderately steep downhill. Time to make up some time, I hope. I take another gel at this point - ugh, it's a sickly honey flavour - and pray that it will give me speed.

Miles 10-12: 6:26, 6:31, 6:29

Through 10 miles in around 1:04, the Coach and his group (including Yellow Newton Dude) pass me again - they're going way faster than I want to right now, so I let them go. Heading onto the freeway the headwind is BRUTAL and I see sub-2:50 sliding away from me; never mind, I can still PR if I hold things together. The top wheelchair guys are on their way back now, and watching them keeps me distracted as I battle the wind that doesn't seem to want to let up. A couple of guys appear behind me - they're trying to draught off me, poor things - after half a mile I decide to let them do the work, but when I fall in behind them the pace drops to around 6:44. Too slow, ugh, so I step out and go back to forging my own path ahead. 

Miles 13-15: 6:39, 6:34, 6:35

I go through halfway in 1:25:54. That's a full minute off where I wanted to be at this stage, but there's no point worrying about that now. I'm watching for the male elites to be coming back on the other side of the road anytime now, and soon there they are: floating along, with the current world record holder Wilson Kipsang right in the middle of the pack. As usual it's totally thrilling to watch them pass, and any disappointment I felt at knowing that my A goal is not going to happen, dissolves in the joy of seeing the world's best marathoners at work.

Soon afterwards I get the shock of my life: around mile 14.5 something makes me glance to my left and there on the median strip I see a female elite (who looks Kenyan) lying prone beneath a palm tree. WTF??? She lifts her head, so I know she's not dead, but she doesn't look to be getting up anytime soon. There's an aid station about 400m ahead - as I pass through at speed, I start yelling at the volunteers "There's someone lying on the road back there!! I think she needs help!!" - it might seem harsh that I don't stop to render her assistance, but I'm pretty sure she would not have done anything different if the roles had been reversed. I keep yelling until I'm out of breath (which doesn't take long, unfortunately) and I need to get myself some water, too. Later I look through the results and find out her name: Doreen Ngunu, and she is indeed Kenyan. 

As I push on through the horrible headwind it does also occur to me that now there's one less female ahead of me; I still don't have any clue what place I'm in, but it just improved by one I guess! Yay? It might be karma but after having this thought I take my 3rd gel, and for whatever reason almost choke to death on the horrible thing. I think it's strawberry, or maybe banana flavour, but it's significantly runnier than my usual GU gels and half of it goes down the wrong way. The rest seems to stick in my throat, stinging and burning. YUK! I run onwards, spluttering, coughing, and trying not to throw up. Schadenfreude, anyone?

Miles 16-18: 6:37, 6:44, 6:23

Now we're at the far point of the race, around Hawaii Kai, and we gradually loop back so that the headwind finally becomes a tailwind. Paradoxically, mile 17 is my slowest of the entire race: either I'm just spent after all this time being blown backwards, or I lose focus dreaming about how nice it will be to have the wind at my back, or I'm just not paying attention. I manage to speed up enough in mile 18 to make some of it up, and as I head into the final part of the race a massive stream of runners is literally pouring along on the other side of the freeway now. Actually, quite a lot of them are yelling things at me like "Go girl!" and "Looking strong!", and it's very endearing. The nasty headwind and the near-lethal gel experience are forgotten and once again I'm enjoying the race. 

The tailwind is great but the humidity is significantly more noticeable now; also, the sun is finally coming up and it's warming up for real. I've been dumping water on my head since about mile 6 and I don't stop now - each water station is a repeat of Boston, where I sip some water and throw the rest all over myself. My hair and shorts are drenched, flapping against my head and legs respectively, and once again I probably look like a small, pink, drowning rat, but it worked then and I'm counting on it to work again today.

Miles 19-21: 6:36, 6:32, 6:36

During mile 19 I catch and pass Yellow Newton Guy, who tells me I'm doing great. I thank him and say "nice shoes" - who knows what he makes of that, at this point, but I hope he gets a laugh out of it. Weslie's sage advice helps me out a lot here; as mile 20 approaches I know it's only 2 miles until we get off the freeway, then 2 more to the top (almost) of Diamond Head, and then there will only be 2 more miles to go (well, just over, but whatever). This kind of mental trick is something I've used for well over 10 years and it helps me GREATLY again now. During mile 21 I am due to take my final gel - I fish it out of my bra and hang onto it for maybe half a mile before working up the courage to open the bloody thing. This time I'm using great caution so I only swallow half of it to start with; when this goes down okay I carefully suck down the rest and breathe a sigh of relief. 

Miles 22-24: 6:36, 6:29, 6:40

Off the freeway at last, I run past a gas station and around a sharp corner to the left. A grey-haired man standing beside the road yells at me "You're 10th woman and 51st overall!". I yell back as confirmation "10th??" and he replies "Yes! And there's a woman about a quarter mile ahead!" Oooh - yeah, I can see her - she looks Japanese and she's wearing all-over neon yellow. I don't think I have it in me to catch her now, but then again why not play a little game of Assassin Mode? It can't hurt at this point - I feel pretty strong, although speeding up may be harder than it sounds, particularly since we have the final hill coming up soon - so I fix my eyes on her and watch for the next half mile. Sure enough, I'm gaining on her, ever so slightly but I'm definitely gaining. Will I be able to get her??

During mile 23 the uphill part begins and I pass a guy in a blue shirt who looks familiar. I've actually traded places with him a fair few times during the race; when he sees me pass now, he starts yelling encouragement at me about Neon Girl ahead: "Go get her! You can do it! PUSH, PUSH, GO!!" I mutter to myself "Ok, ok, geez" - it's like he wants me to take off sprinting or something - and try to pick up the pace. Emphasis on "try", because at this point in a marathon it's rather tough to speed up, let alone do so on any sort of hill. But I push onwards and when I crest the final rise, there is Neon Girl maybe 100m ahead of me. Ooh, can I make my way into 9th place??

Miles 25-26: 6:39, 6:08

The downhill starts and I'm concentrating as hard as I can on putting one foot in front of each other, controlling my descent but at the same time letting it flow as fast as possible. Just behind Neon Girl is a person with a curly ponytail and girly-looking arms, although their legs are suspiciously hairy; it keeps me occupied for a while trying to figure out if this person is male or perhaps another female elite (albeit with some hippy inclinations), and if I can get them both then maybe I can finish in 8th place. As we hit the flat towards the end of mile 26, I conclude that no, it's a bloke for sure, and as I pass him Neon Girl is now within striking distance. I made up a LOT of time over mile 26 - but as we turn into the chute, my god that finish line is just SO far away. Put your head down, Rachel, and GO!!!

Last 0.2 miles 6:14 pace

Halfway down the finish chute I pull alongside Neon Girl at last. But she glances over, sees me there and puts on a kick that I just cannot match. It's taking all I have just to keep going; accelerating is out of the question. I hear Weslie screaming my name, but I'm too deep in the zone to acknowledge her.

I look up and see 2:52:00 approaching on the clock. I'm going to make it across in 2:51:x or die trying, so I dig deep and sure enough, I hit the line in 2:51:56. NEW PR!! WOO HOO!!

Official time: 2:51:56, 6:34 pace

Placement: 10th female, 38th overall, 1st in F40-44 AG (elites in their own group, sweet)

Splits: 1:25:54 / 1:26:02

Post-Race

I stand under the shower spray in the finish area until I'm completely drenched, and then walk slowly towards the water tables. I feel spent but nowhere near collapse, and I know I've run the best possible race I could have run today. Neon Girl sees me - she has beaten me by 8 seconds - and it's obvious she speaks no English. My schoolgirl Japanese is equally inadequate, so we smile at each other, shake hands and bow politely. As I make my way out I hear Weslie calling me, and together we wander into the finish area. We pass the Shiatsu massage tent and I go in for my first ever massage - who knows if it will help with recovery, but why not, right?

We meet up with Yo (3:01:40) and his Kiwi mate Richard (3:05:xx, and it turns out he's a bandit, something he did not care to disclose to any of us at the time!) and stand around under a huge banyan tree, happily talking about running and our plans to meet again in Boston.

On the leaderboard!!

The Analysis
Looks like 100mpw really works! Without the hills and the horror headwind, I think 2:50 might have been a real possibility, but in the face of it I think I made the most of the day and ran as well as I could have. An 8-second positive split is as close as I've ever come to perfectly even pacing and speaks volumes for my endurance, which is probably my greatest strength in marathon running. If only the weather gods will smile on Boston in 2013, the next - and possibly ultimate - goal of sub-2:50 may indeed be within my reach!

Run4Fun 10K, November 2012

Last year this 10K was the scene of a tasty PR (almost a minute off my old one from 2007) and when an email arrived from the promoters announcing the race for 2012, it did not take much thought before I signed up. In doing so, I discovered that my time from 2011 earned me a seeded start! Would I like that? Of course I would!

But when the bib arrived with "STANTON" emblazoned across it, I had a moment of horror: all I could think was "but, but, but.....I suck at short distances!" If I crashed and burned, how embarrassing would that be, with a seeded bib on? Ugh. It did not bear thinking about, so I just put down my head and went on with my marathon training, which had become rather overwhelming of late.


The Training
Once again I was mid-way through a cycle of Pfitzinger marathon training, and the race probably could not have come at a worse time, sandwiched as it would be in the middle of 4 consecutive weeks of over 100 miles. I shifted all the heavier days to earlier in the week - running my 22 miler on Thursday morning starting at 4:25am - and attempted a taper of sorts, but even so had 95 miles on my legs already for the week going into race day.

Also, I was not reassured by the fact that I had struggled to hold pace under 6:20 minutes per mile in a recent tempo run; but what the heck, a child-free running trip (however short) is nothing to be turned down. So off to Sydney we went, since I had registered my husband for the race as well (oops).


The Travel
The location of this race - in and around the Olympic Park where the Sydney Games were held in 2000 - is absolutely fantastic. There are a number of hotels right there and I'm able to get a free night's accommodation at the nicest of them, setting us up for a lovely relaxing race prelude.

We fly out from Wagga in the afternoon, meander around the CBD shops and go to the movies (carb-loading on popcorn is perfectly acceptable for a 10K, right?), then make our way to the hotel where we enjoy a lovely meal in the on-site restaurant. Compared with my usual pre-race routine, which involves focusing enormous amounts of energy on the needs and demands of two small (but wild) children, this is pure bliss.


Race Day
Through our window on the 11th floor I can see the start line, and at 6:30am when I get up there are a lot of people already milling around down there. The forecast calls for clouds and16C/60F at the start, so I head out for a warm-up run at 7:15am dressed in shorts, singlet and a throw-away Gap sweater that I've had since 2007.

Eventual race outfit

My legs feel better than they did yesterday, at least, but I'm still feeling far from zippy as I plod through my two miles. I'm trying to come up with an excuse to use in the event that I can't even break 40 minutes today, but nothing springs to mind. Better probably just to not think about it....and the irritating song my son has been making me listen to all week comes in very useful now: my mind goes blank and I just potter along humming its inane lyrics to myself.

The sun is starting to break through now, and although it probably won't be as warm as last year, I'm still way overdressed. So after my warm-up I shed both the sweater and singlet, re-pin my bib to my bra and head down to the starting line. On the way I down a vanilla GU (for luck as much as for anything else) and find a water fountain to wash it down with. There's a nice coolish breeze but the sun is warm; at the preferred/seeded runners' area I stand in the sunshine and it's really quite lovely. I make small talk with a couple of other women - some of it about how we're surrounded by blokes - as we stand about 4 rows back from the line, and then the gun goes off and ugh, time to try to run fast.


Mile 1: 5:58 (pace in min/mile)
Heading up the slight incline past the main stadium, I feel like I'm putting in quite a lot of effort. At the 1km mark I look at my Garmin and realise why: it reads 3:34, which is 5:44 min/mile. Ah, I can ease it back a bit then - and although I do, the next part is a gentle downhill and the first mile passes in sub-6:00 pace. Cool!


Mile 2: 6:00
Wow, I actually feel quite okay running at this pace. The second half of this mile is a gentle uphill back towards our hotel and although it feels tough, it's not unmanageable and again I'm pleasantly surprised when my Garmin beeps to inform me of my pace. The big question is: am I going to be able to hang on the whole way? Hmmm, I have no idea really.


Mile 3: 6:04
Halfway through this mostly flat mile I check my pace and it's still around 6:00. Impulsively, I make a decision: even though I suspect I'm going too fast, I'm definitely not going to slow down deliberately. I want to run at least the first 5K at this pace, and if that means I die in the second half, so be it. My 5K PR (only having raced, um, one) is pathetically soft and I feel I must improve on it even if nothing else comes out of today.

So, the 3rd mile goes past in similar fashion to the first two, and I hit the 5K mark in 18:47 by my watch. A much more respectable PR and I'm claiming it for sure!


Mile 4: 6:12
Small loss of focus here, possibly I relax a little after the 5K marker is behind me. It's starting to feel hard now, this level of effort, but it helps that I've only got 2 miles to go.


Mile 5: 6:03
Right at the start of this mile, I see a woman ahead of me with a dark ponytail and tan lines on her back that make me think she's probably a triathlete. It's hard to tell from behind, but there's something about her that is familiar.

I've picked up the pace a bit again, and soon I pull alongside, then pass her. I hear her grunt something and then she passes me back - we go on like this for most of the mile, although I'm deliberately not letting it phase me - I know there are plenty of other female runners ahead of me so it's not like we're duelling for an overall place or anything.

Finally there's a slight uphill stretch and I leave her behind. Immediately she's out of my mind because I have other issues to focus on: the memory of this final mile from last year, and it's not pretty.


Mile 6: 6:13
This is the part that goes on a gentle uphill past the main stadium, in full sun, before making a right hand turn and heading towards the final stretch into the stadium. Last year it sucked, and this year is no different. I'm passing quite a lot of men now, and a few are inspired to start sprinting to stay ahead of me - normally this would probably make me snigger and speed up more, but I'm too deep in my own head to pay much attention.

The two thoughts going around are "KEEP IT GOING" and "god, I'm never running a 10K ever again", and at the time I mean it. This is really hurting now - the slight downhill around the back of the stadium is a small relief, but I'm not surprised when my Garmin informs me I just ran my slowest mile of the race. At least the suffering is almost over.....

Finish: 5:54 (0.3 miles by Garmin)
Around the corner I go and into the tunnel that will bring me into the Olympic Stadium. There is a timing clock by the road and it has just clicked over to 37:00 - this is the boost I need to keep it going - there's no way I'm not going to PR now.

But the tunnel is longer than I remember it, somehow, and it feels like forever before I pop out into the sunshine and onto the grass. Thankfully the finish line is relatively close, so I put my head down and give it everything I've got --- and it's over at last.

Finished!

Finish time: 38:13, 6:09 pace

Placement: 8th OA female (of 2167), 1st AG (of 518).


Crossing the finish line, it's an exquisite relief to stop running and I grab some water, since I haven't drunk anything throughout the race. A very skinny woman in purple, whom I vaguely remember seeing ahead of me for much of the race, comes up and congratulates me on a strong run. She says "I just couldn't stay with you on that final uphill" -- I laugh and congratulate her back, but she's not the woman with the tan lines -- what happened to her? I'm standing in the bleachers watching for my husband to finish (he ends up with 46:09, a very respectable new PR) when suddenly I see her, and to my extreme surprise she waves and says "You got me again, Rachel!" WTF??

Turns out she is the woman I sledged in Port Macquarie last March (around mile 4 in the report) and whom I also beat in the F40-49 age group for this race last year. I remember now she asked me about the 2011 Run4Fun after the Port Mac HM - where I beat her for 3rd place - I'm becoming something of a nemesis for this poor woman, and I can't even remember her name!

Stadium behind, smug runners in front

The Analysis
Well, if I can run both 5K and 10K PRs in a race during the most intense marathon training I've ever done, I guess that has to be a good sign. And 6:00 pace, or at least sub-6:10, seems a lot more manageable than it ever has before. Suddenly the idea of a marathon at 6:30 pace doesn't seem the wildly insane idea it was about 7 weeks ago.....and the planets appear to be aligning for something special in Honolulu on December 9.