Run4Fun, Sydney Olympic Park, November 2011

The Rebel Run4Fun 10K race is one I have run before in 2009. At the time I was running fairly low mileage and baby #2 had just turned 1, so I wasn't in the best running shape of my life and I ran it in 42:09.

This was good enough for second in my AG (F30-39) and 12th female OA, but I remember feeling pretty unimpressed with myself, particularly since I had been easily running much more difficult courses in less than 42 minutes just two years earlier.

The awesome thing about this race is that the course is entirely run within Sydney Olympic Park, where the Olympic Games were held in 2000. The finish line is inside the main stadium, where I saw Cathy Freeman win gold in the 400m final at those Games, and it's an incredible feeling to run there.

So when an email advertising the run landed in my inbox in September, I decided it was worth a shot at improving on my time from 2009, and in October as my running was looking up again I decided to enter.

The Training

Being in the middle of a Pfitzinger marathon training cycle, I moved some runs around to accommodate the 10K race. This resulted in an all-time record for mileage over a 7 day period in the 10 days beforehand: 85 miles, or just under 137 km. I then had a few days of mini-taper before the race, including one full rest day, and I was happy to feel relatively well-recovered by race day.

Race Day

I travel down to Sydney by plane the day beforehand with my 5 year old son, for whom the whole thing is a marvellous adventure. We get the train into the city from the airport and eat lots of banana bread (carb-loading for a 10K? absolutely) whilst wandering happily around the shops, then catch up with my father and other family before sacking out at our hotel around 9:30pm.

The weather forecast is not terribly encouraging the morning of the race: low of 18C/62F and predicted high of 30C/86F, which with Sydney's humidity can be pretty miserable. It's already 21C/70F in the shade as we park Dad's car out at Olympic Park and walk up - in full sunshine - to the start; I'm prepared, though, and apart from compression socks am wearing as little as decency will allow. I take a Gu (my first ever, ewww yuck disgusting) 15 minutes before the race, try to wash away the taste with a lot of water, and head over to the start.

I have a preferred entry - courtesy of some HM result last year - so I get to line up at the front, hooray! The people up there with me don't look too intimidating, and as we wait for the start all I can think is: sub-40, sub-40, sub-40. The announcer is being all upbeat and yelling out "Who's going for a new PR???", and secretly I'm answering "ME!!" but I don't want to jinx myself, so I don't say it out loud. My old PR is 39:54 and it's from 2007, so I'm hopeful I can beat it today, but it's hot and I've trained in cold weather for the past 4 months, so who knows?

Mile 1: 6:08 (min/mile)

The gun goes off and we're off up a slight incline past the stadium. Surprisingly, there seem to be a LOT of slower people ahead of me and I feel quite boxed in for the first 400m. I decide to put on a burst of speed to get away from some people, and then I feel really good so I keep going like that. Looking at my Garmin at the 1km mark, lap pace reads: 5:48. Oooops! Too fast! I pull it back some and the first mile is soon over.

Mile 2: 6:19

Now I'm just focussed on keeping the pace comfortably hard. I've decided that 6:20 is a good target so this mile I'm close. There's more shade than I expected, and I stay in it as much as possible.

Mile 3: 6:14

Speeding up a bit again. This despite going back up that slight incline to pass the stadium once again - and people are starting to drop out. I see a girl who started next to me leave the course and bend over; further on in the bushes there's a guy on hands and knees, revisiting his breakfast. Wow, this heat is something. I feel okay though, so onwards I press.

Mile 4: 6:22

Ok, that's a bit slower, but I know that averaging 6:28 will still get me 40 minutes and I'm ahead by quite a bit now so I don't freak out. Instead I congratulate myself at finally hitting something closer to my supposed goal pace, and keep going. Still feeling relatively comfortable, too.

Mile 5: 6:24

This is a tough one - a lot of turns, some small rollers - and no less than 3 people who I've been running close to for most of the race now stop and pull over. Wow, again. I think of my best running friend, who told me to be sure to save something for the last 2 miles, and then we turn into the final mile and I can see the stadium ahead. Time to pull out all the stops....

Mile 6: 6:08

Full sun now, and again that incline up towards the stadium. For a second I feel a bit lightheaded and shivery, which is a slight worry, but then it passes and I hit the accelerator with everything I've got left. I'm passing people left and right now, which feels good, and then we hit the final turn - into the tunnel and I know I'll be on the grass inside the stadium very shortly. This pace feels REALLY hard, but I still have the presence of mind to attempt a cute pose for the photographer just before the tunnel entrance, and it kind of works......

Last 0.2 mile: 6:01 pace

Running as hard as I've ever run, I hear the announcers yelling something about "sub-39 minutes", but I don't hit my Garmin stop button until I'm well over the line (it looks silly on photos) and when I do, it reads 39:03. New PR!!! By almost a minute!!!

Shortly thereafter I get a text message on my phone, informing me that my official time is 38:59 - I have indeed broken 39 minutes, by one whole second, but I'll take it!

The single best thing about the stadium finish is that there is lots of room for spectators, so Dad and my son have seen my strong finish, and also there are HEAPS of volunteers who are armed with hoses which have spray gun attachments. I'm hot but otherwise I feel okay, so I slug down some water and head into the stands, where one of them comprehensively hoses me down and I feel MUCH better. It's about 27C/80F by now, so I'm mostly dry by the time we get back the car. Winning!

Turns out my time puts me 10th overall female and 1st in my AG (F40-49), which is a result I'm very happy with.

The Analysis

It seems that maybe I'm really learning something about proper pacing now, from all the people who regularly beat me up on RWOL about running too fast all the time. My old racing strategy - which was pretty much "Go out as hard as possible and hold on as long as you can" has been replaced with something far more sensible. And I'm learning how it should feel to be running just fast enough that I'm doing my best whilst simultaneously keeping something in reserve so I don't run out of gas before reaching the finish line.

My finish in this race was the polar opposite of September's Lake to Lagoon fiasco, where I ended up in the medical tent after almost collapsing. And yet I really didn't leave any time out on the course AT ALL - maybe I could have run a little faster in those middle miles, but that would have posed a real risk of blowing up before the end, so I'm glad I didn't do it.

So it all bodes well for next month's marathon in California, which is now looking like a real goal race again for me. Hooray!!

Blackmores Sydney HM, Sept 2011

The Sydney running festival is one of my favourite events and my entry for the 2011 HM was already in before I got injured in early July. Originally it was going to be a big goal race for me - I was hoping to break 1:27 and get back close to the times I was running in 2001-2002. Alas, it was not to be, but I was adamant that I still wanted to run it if possible. Hot on the heels of my Lake to Lagoon triumph-snatched-from-the-jaws-of-disaster, I resolved to give the Sydney HM my best shot.

The training

Training? What? None to speak of - see previous post regarding the Lake to Lagoon race for details.

Race day

I'm up bright and early at 5am, heading over on the train to Milsons Point to start the race in the shadow of the Harbour Bridge. I run into my old friend Polly at Town Hall and we take the train together in the kind of easy companionship that comes from knowing someone for 25 years. She's in the C corral, I'm in the A group so we hug and wish each other luck before heading to the start just after 6am.

I don't even look for Paul, my Wagga colleague who led me so badly astray the weekend before, even though I know he's there somewhere - no way I'm getting myself into another medical tent only 7 days after the last event! The weather is quite warm even before the sun comes up - 21C/69F and it's going to warm up even further pretty fast - so I know it won't end well if I go too hard.

The past 2 times I've run this race I've been right up the front at the start. This year, since I'm supposedly NOT racing, I hang right back and pretend it doesn't annoy me when it takes me a good 90 seconds to get over the line. At least it convinces me that I'm not here to go nuts and set a new PR, but I don't like it.

Off we go up the hill and I settle into a pace that seems comfortable but challenging at the same time. I check my Garmin when it beeps the first 1km split - because I'm being conscientious about pacing now, ahem - and find it reads 4:15 (6:50 min/mile). Not bad! We head around the corner and over the Harbour Bridge and I relax, take in the scenery and break into a huge grin when I realise, I'M DOING THIS! So recently I thought I wouldn't have a chance - and my knee isn't hurting at all. Most excellent!

Miles 1-2: 6:56 (average pace in min/mile)

I reel it in a little heading over the bridge - don't want to overdo it - and there's a sharp turn right before we turn down onto the Cahill expressway. I'm trying to remember if this is the same route the race took last year and that mental exercise keeps me nicely distracted.

Miles 3-4: 6:58

Still going a little bit too fast. But it's so much FUN!! I need to keep my excitement in check. I decide to watch for photographers and ham it up whenever I see one.

Miles 5-6: 6:46

Again a bit too fast, but it feels AWESOME. I'm actually laughing to myself now because the pressure is off - no PR attempt today - and I'm just loving being in my favourite city in the world, running my favourite distance.

Miles 7-8: 7:12

We weave down through the Rocks and head out along the edge of the harbour. Passing under the Harbour Bridge I'm on my own and I spot a photographer. An excellent opportunity to strike a pose, and it works perfectly:

Best running photo EVER!!

Miles 9-10: 7:04

Now this is some really good pacing I'm doing here. I'm enjoying myself thoroughly and take the opportunity as we head along Dickson Road to clap and cheer the leaders, who are heading back in the opposite direction already. Normally I'd be watching and counting the women ahead of me but this time I'm too busy yelling encouragement to care.

Miles 11-12: 7:09

This bit gets tough, with some nasty sharp uphills and downhills, followed by a punishing hairpin turn in Pyrmont. But I'm feeling great - I was told sternly by a running buddy right before the race that I MUST drink at every water station!! - so I grab some water and down a GU chomp just to be sure I don't hit any kind of wall on the way back to the Opera House finish. Onward!

Mile 13.1: 7:00, then 5:49 over final stretch

Coming around Circular Quay I'm holding it together just perfectly and when I see the "400m to go" sign I cut loose with everything I've got left.

Sprinting like a maniac and grinning like a lunatic, I'm over the finish line in 1:32:53. It's the slowest HM I've ever run, but one of the most enjoyable ever.

Later I find out this is good enough for 3rd in my AG (F40-44) and I have a moment of "wow, could I have WON my AG if I was properly trained and racing this?" but it doesn't last long because I'm just so happy to have run to the best of my ability on the day.

Crossing the line, I hear my own name closely followed by that of my erstwhile colleague Paul. For a confused second I think "Why are they reading out all the names of the runners from Wagga together??" but then it hits me - I've finished at the exact same second as him! Turns out he started ahead of me and my time is 10 seconds faster: REVENGE FOR LAST WEEKEND IS MINE!!! I grab him in a bear hug and he's as surprised as me that we finished so close together.

Analysis

I am pretty sure there's nothing I could have done better or differently in the way I ran this race. For the first time - and largely thanks to the advice and admonishment I've regularly been receiving from my RWOL (Runner's World) friends - I managed to pace myself intelligently and run my best without overdoing it or fading significantly at the end. I'm thrilled and more than a little bit encouraged that I can still run a pretty decent time on literally no training - it bodes well for the upcoming marathon in December. Hopefully it won't be the extended training run that I thought it would be....I have 11 weeks left to change that destiny.

Lake to Lagoon Fun Run, September 2011

The Lake to Lagoon Fun Run (9.5km or just under 6 miles) is one of the very few organised running events held in Wagga Wagga each year. I ran it in 2009, rather undertrained, didn't much enjoy the experience and skipped it in 2010 in favour of a 20 mile (32km) training run for NYC marathon later that year.

This year I have to admit I am not sure why I even considered running it. In early July I was sidelined with an early stress reaction in my left femur, and when I tried to start training again a month later this promptly turned into a nasty pain in my left knee. The diagnosis: that leg length difference (12mm, almost an inch) that I had been trying to ignore for the last 6 years of running, finally had managed to injure me by affecting my iliotibial band on that side. This was insanely tight and pulling my left patella over to the side, causing pain when I tried to run.

With some excellent help from a wonderful local physiotherapist I managed to have my first truly pain-free run just 3 days before the Lake to Lagoon was held. Of course my next thought was: I'll do it as a fun run! Run with DH! Yeah!!

The training

Yeah, none. I might have run 10km once or twice in the preceding 2 months but not without knee pain. Excellent preparation, not.

Race Day

The Lake to Lagoon traditionally has the ridiculous starting time of 10:30am, and not only that, the runners start AFTER the cyclists. It's not uncommon to catch up to the last of the family cyclists as they meander along the levee bank beside the river, which can be extremely frustrating. And in 2009 it was very HOT by the time the race started, but this year we are in luck. It's cool (10C/50F) at the start and there are some clouds about, although these do clear pretty quickly.

DH and I jog the 1 mile from our house to the start line at an easy pace and my knee - which I haven't run for 2 days now - feels great. At the actual start line I start to feel REALLY excited that I'm here and my knee is better and I'm FULL OF BEANS! because I'm so fresh from not much running for almost 8 weeks.

That's me in pink on the left.

I spot my physiotherapist - who is also running - and I literally bounce over to him, grinning wildly. He laughs at me and tells me to go easy, okay? Yep, sure, bounce bounce bounce. I find another friend, Paul - an anaesthetist colleague of ours actually - who tells me he's shooting for 42 minutes. That sounds reasonable, so I tell him I'll hang with him and see how I feel at the half-way mark, which is also the end of the huge hill that dominates the first part of the course.

After a dorky warmup led by some local gym instructors, the gun fires and off we go. Rather a LOT faster than would be appropriate for 42 minutes, but whatever, it feels great and I just chase Paul down and go with it. I know it's too fast, but some rational connection in my brain has just snapped and suddenly I just want to see if I still know how to run fast.

1st km pace: 3:50 min/km (6:09 min/mile)

Wow. This is fast. I feel okay - maybe I can stick with this pace. Can't remember last time I ran a race at sub-4:00 pace, though - was it 2001? Hmmm.

2nd km: 4:04 (6:32)

Now we're going uphill. Awesome. But I still feel okay, it's hard but not unsustainable. My knee isn't hurting AT ALL. And I'm in front of Paul now! Onward!!

3rd km: 4:16 (6:51)

This hill sucks. Is it going to be over soon?

4th km: 4:09 (6:39)

At last we crest the hill. I'm still in front of Paul and, is that a woman ahead of me? No - it's a dude in a big wig. I think I'm the first female! Onward and downward!!

5th km: 3:52 (6:11)

Oh yeah baby. Downhill is the way to go!

6th km: 3:45 (6:02)

The fastest 1km split I can ever remember seeing on my Garmin. For a second I'm thinking, maaaaaaybe I'm going too hard here. But I'm still going and the road has flattened out. Time to dig in and hold on; someone at the corner onto the river path says "First lady!" to me and I think, stupidly, of Hillary Clinton. But that's obviously not what he means....

7th km: 4:03 (6:29)

So, if I can hold it together I'm going to win this. I've placed 2nd and 3rd in half-marathons in the past 5 years, but I haven't outright won a race since the infamous Potato Race in Dorrigo back in 2001. It's GO time now.

8th km: 4:25 (7:05)

Uh oh. My head is starting to spin. Is that a sign of dehydration? It's only been 5 miles and it's not that hot - um, now the world really is spinning, this is weird - maybe I did go out too fast after all? Too late to change it now, just got to keep the legs turning over.

9th km: 4:38 (7:25)

Oh dear. This is not good. By now I know I'm in serious trouble, but I'm still WINNING goddammit, and there's only half a kilometre to go. I think "finish strong" and try to tell that to my legs, but it's not happening.

Finish stretch: 5:27 (8:39)

Paul blows past me yelling "Keep it going!!" but I barely notice. Can't feel my legs. The video footage on the news the next night will show me staggering through the finish like a drunk, and I barely avoid landing in the lap of the timing lady as I cross the line.

Oooh, I'm going down.....

I've finished as the first female as far as I know, but I don't know much of anything right now. Someone says to me "Did you run the whole way?" and I don't answer, but I think "Do I seriously look like I didn't??"......and off to the medical tent I go, supported by two concerned volunteers.

The weird thing that happens here is that shortly after they sit me down, an official-looking guy comes in and I ask him, did I win? He hesitates and then says, No.

Really? Someone passed me and I didn't even see them? It seems plausible - I was pretty out of it those last few hundred metres - so I think to myself, okay, 2nd is not bad! After a few cups of water I feel less like I'm going to pass out, and DH finishes and comes over, completely unconcerned that his wife is in the medical tent. WTF??

When they let me out, I spot Paul and go over to berate him for inspiring me to almost kill myself....and am intercepted by a reporter from the local newspaper. She starts to ask me questions and I'm sort of puzzled - I ask her, so did I win then?? She seems to think I did, and tells me the newspaper photographer took MY picture (that's going to be a good one, I think).

Eventually it's all too puzzling and I go over to ask the official people, um, sorry to bother you but did I win? And the answer is YES! I'm officially the fastest woman in Wagga!

A pretty cool trophy and a medal for winning my age group are now mine! And two days later I get a phone call from the Race Director who wants to apologise for having asked me "Did you run the whole way?" at the finish. Oh, that's right, I remember that now! He's a little incoherent so I never really grasp why he didn't think I had run all the way - surely I wouldn't be almost passing out if I'd walked it or hopped out of my car just around the block? - but we have a nice chat about running and that's that.

The Analysis

Obviously I ran just way out of my fitness level, and now I know how that feels. Despite the shortness of the race, I hit "The Wall" and bounced off pretty hard. Clearly it's not the best strategy to show up completely untrained and just wing it like I did, and my only defence is to say "Well, I WON!!"

I confess my craziness to my RWOL friends and they are very understanding. Still, I don't tell them what I have planned for the next weekend......

ODDyssey HM, Philadelphia May 2011

I have mentioned my love of running tourism many times before in this blog, and in the process of planning our latest trip to the USA, I decided to take advantage and turn it into a little running adventure for myself. I had already figured that the easiest way to get ourselves, our children and all our STUFF from Washington DC (where DH's conference was being held) to New York (where much shopping awaited) would be to hire a car, so it was a simple matter to settle on a stopover in Philadelphia, where the ODDyssey half-marathon was going to take place on the very weekend we would be in town.

It's been a while since I have run a HM without being in the midst of a grander scheme (aka marathon training plan) so I had no idea how I would perform - especially given that it was only 6 weeks after the Canberra marathon - but by the time this reality occurred to me I had already registered for the race. Ooops.

The training

See above: no specific training plan for this one. After Canberra I vaguely followed a Pfitzinger recovery plan, gradually easing back into longer runs but always keeping the pace easy. As a result I did no speedwork in between the two races, none whatsoever. My longest run was 12 miles about two weeks earlier, and jet-lag had made for some slow, spaced-out runs after arriving in the US. In short, I was feeling woefully underprepared as race day loomed.

The travel

We were over a week into our travels by the time we arrived in Philadelphia, but even so I was still feeling affected by jet-lag. The first two nights in DC I slept like the dead, but from the 3rd night onwards I was having trouble, which has never happened before.

My body seemed to want to sleep from 2am or so until 9 or 10am if possible; this is so far from my normal sleeping pattern at home that it made me feel very disoriented. I tried to bash my circadian rhythm back into shape, using motrin PM and prescription sleeping tablets in slightly alarming quantities, but all this did was make me feel hungover in the morning and I was still lying awake for hours at night. By the 5th night I had given up and accepted that sleep would elude me until at least 1am, and so I stayed up reading/surfing the internet instead of lying there fuming. Understandably, this was a lot more fun.

This is how I came to be still up past midnight the night before the race, blathering on Facebook and Runners World about how I was going to run sooooo slowly, it would definitely be a new PW (personal worst) time for me, I was just going to do it as a fun run, not racing, definitely not, blah blah blah blah blaaaaah.

In the words of my husband: "Yeah, right".

Race day

Despite the late bedtime I'm awake the second my alarm goes off at 5:45am. I've actually been missing early morning running and I'm kind of excited despite my pessimism about how I'm going to run.

Thanks to our car GPS (how did anyone ever get anywhere before they existed??) I'm out at the starting area with plenty of time to spare. The start line happens to be right outside the Please Touch museum, which is where we stupidly left our travel stroller (a nice Maclaren one) folded on the ground behind our car the day before, so I jog over to look for it, even though DH has already pronounced it gone.

To my delight the stroller is right there, propped up against a tree. I grab it and set off back towards the car. I must look bizarre to the other runners who are now streaming towards the start - I'm moving in the wrong direction, despite being dressed to run with a number pinned to my singlet - with a stroller under my arm and a silly grin on my face. But I really don't care what they think, because I've decided it's officially a Good Omen and that the race is therefore going to go very well for me.

Back at the start I once again find myself right up the front - gotta love these small races - so once the gun goes off it takes mere seconds for me to cross the line. Unfortunately my Garmin has gone to sleep (the start was exactly one minute late) and it takes me around 400m to figure this out and start it properly. Annoying, but I try to shrug it off and focus on the run.

Miles 1-2: 6:49 (average pace in min/mile)

Off we go. The start is not too crowded, but I'm trying not to go too hard so the first mile or so isn't at top speed. After the first split beeps on my Garmin, I realise that my "comfortably hard" pace is actually a decent race pace - especially given my expectations - so I settle in and resolve not to look at the splits from now on, just so I don't freak myself out. Holiday me is apparently easily spooked.

Miles 3-4: 6:41

The course winds, in an undulating fashion, around Fairmount Park and back through the start. I have no idea where it's headed and briefly wonder if we'll be doing 3x4 mile loops through the park: hardly an appealing idea. Right at 4 miles though we head down a steepish hill to the Schuylkill river.

Miles 5-6: 6:39

We head out one way and then back - the perfect opportunity to confirm what I already know: I'm in 4th place and about half a mile behind the 3rd female. Another race seems to be setting up down by the river, so there are water stations everywhere but not all for us. It's confusing. I distract myself by aimlessly wondering how Schuylkill is pronounced. Skull-kill? Shool-kyl? Skyoool-keel?? This pointless exercise keeps my mind happily occupied for quite a while.

Miles 7-8: 6:37

I'm just moseying along by the river, enjoying myself more than I expected to. And I'm slowly making ground on the girl in front, although she's still a long way ahead.

Miles 9-10: 6:44

The "non-compulsory obstacles" that this race supposedly has near the water stations begin to appear. Why anyone would want to take a break from running a half-marathon to scale a jumping castle, or hurdle a barrel? It's mystifying. If you have enough spare energy to do that, then clearly you're not running hard enough. No-one appears to be taking part anyway.

Then, around the mile 10 mark, I see a sign that reads "Heads Up! Water Balloons!" and a couple of dudes hanging around holding small round balloons. I think to myself "Ooooh, they won't, will they?!?" and briefly consider giving them a warning glare, but then decide to use the "I can't see you so you can't see me" treatment I usually give unleashed dogs, and it works perfectly. Phew.

Miles 11-12: 6:51

We're heading back now and somehow we have to get back up to the museum, but I am holding onto the vain hope that the sharp downhill we took to get to the river won't reappear as a horrible uphill at this point. Surely we'll go back some other, less extreme way? Nope, there it is, right as we pass the 12 mile mark. The elevation profile says it all:

Mile 13.1: 7:03

The final mile is uphill?? This is torture. And it's time to try some of the tricks I've read about in Runners World and online: I relax my upper body, lean forward slightly and pump my arms for all I'm worth. I still feel like I'm crawling through quicksand, but eventually the gradient levels out and there's the finish line (not to mention the 3rd woman, whom I have almost caught, but not quite) just up ahead.

I cross the line in 1:28:24, my fastest HM time since 2007 and an official Masters PR!

It's good enough for 4th female overall and 1st place in my AG, which apparently earns me a medal that the organisers promise to send me, since I have to leave fairly promptly in order to pack up the family and get on our way to New York. I'm thrilled that my HM time has benefitted so much from all the marathon training, and what a great way to remember Philadelphia!

Bonus extras

One of the coolest things about being a runner in the 21st century is the internet and the online communities that like-minded people can join. This has been a big thing for me since way back in 2006 (see here for details) and since becoming a regular on the Runners World forums I have many running friends - the vast majority are Americans - whom I have "met" online.

In Philadelphia I was very excited to have the chance to meet two of these imaginary friends for the first time in real life. On Saturday night before the race, my friend Lynn and her husband Steve very generously invited us to their home for dinner, and I was able to use my upcoming race and carbo-loading as an excuse to eat a LOT of very yummy cake. A wonderful evening of food, good company and manic children was had by all - thanks, Lynn and Steve!

And after the race it was a great pleasure to meet another friend for brunch, the inimitable Flo, whose running blog is here. We chatted happily over pancakes and coffee about running, racing, training, Runners' World, more running - while my husband's eyes glazed over and my children made increasingly wild but futile attempts to attract my attention. Once again an almost complete stranger seemed like an old friend - it was great to meet you, Flo!

I'm hoping my next trip to the US will be another running tourism trip - stay tuned!

Canberra Marathon April 2011

When I was looking around for my next marathon, all enthusiastic in the afterglow of my fantastic New York trip, there was nothing to be found online about Canberra's annual marathon. Canberra is our national capital and only 2.5 hours drive from our house (very convenient), but in 2010 there was some legal dispute about who owned the rights to stage the race, and at the end of the year this was still unresolved. There was some doubt about whether the 2011 race would actually go ahead.

Despite the lack of a suitable goal race, after my 5 week post-marathon Higdon plan I decided to embark on another marathon training plan anyway - never let it be said that I am not a goal-oriented sort of person! And then in January an email arrived in my in-box about "The Australian Running Festival" in April, and lo and behold it was the re-born Canberra Marathon, scheduled for April 10 and fitting in perfectly with the training plan I had already started. Hooray!

The training

Pfitzinger 18/55. For the uninitiated, Pete Pfitzinger is an American former Olympic marathoner whose marathon training plans are well-known amongst the marathoning community and renowned for difficulty but also spectacular results for those who make it through uninjured. This plan stretches over 18 weeks and peaks at 55 miles per week (88km) - I actually added some miles to max out at just under 65 miles, or 104km. It is comprised of speedwork, intervals and long runs, and yes, it is every bit as intense as it sounds.

I had no major problems with the plan, though, and felt well-prepared in the lead-up to Canberra. So well-prepared that I somehow thought it was a good idea to invite a whole bunch of experienced marathoners on Runners World Online (RWOL) to place bets on how much I could improve on my NY time. I can't account for why I felt the need for some extra pressure to achieve, but there it promptly was, in the form of a raft of seriously fast predicted times. Ooops.

Race day

During the night before the race I'm awake every hour from 1:30am onwards, thinking "Is it time yet??" At 4:30am I'm awake for good, but I feel well-rested, probably from going to bed at the insanely early hour of 9pm the evening before. I check the weather - there is apparently a 40% chance of rain, but outside the road is dry - and after a breakfast of chocolate milk and raisin toast I drive over and park near the starting area.

It's still dark but there are a few people around, so I go over and check out the starting line. The race office is in a school hall, so I go to use the bathrooms and I'm the only one in the whole block. Could this be any more different to New York?? I head back to the car to stay warm, even though it's currently overcast and about 14c/57F, so not cold, and there is no sign of the wind or rain I was expecting. I make the incredibly stupid mistake of posting on Facebook that it's not cold or raining, and five minutes later the heavens open and the temperature drops by at least 5 degrees. Duh. Next time someone needs to tell me to STFU about the weather, honestly.

When I head over to the start with 30 minutes to go, NO-ONE is lined up yet apart from one dude in a red shirt. Again, the incredible difference to NY strikes me. I loiter around under some trees for a while, staying out of the rain, and when I do go to line up a few other people eventually come over. I end up in the very front line, thinking "I do NOT belong at the very front, how did I get here?!", until some more people come over and I can fade back a few paces. Two fast-looking women show up, one with a half-marathon bib on, the other a full. Ms HM and I start talking, she introduces herself as Hannah and says she's shooting for 70 minutes. Whoa! What?!

There are no seeded runners or preferred runners at the race, but the city is home to the Australian Institute of Sport so it's actually not too surprising that amazingly fast runners like this have showed up. Sure enough, I find out later that Hannah was the female HM winner (in the somewhat slower time of 1:23:36), and her friend with the marathon bib on wins the ladies' marathon. I see her a few times during the race, waaaaaay out in front of any other female runner, and am not surprised that her time of 2:50:49 puts her almost 7 minutes ahead of her nearest rival.

With a minute or so to go I'm still only about 3 rows back from the very front, and when the gun goes off I'm over the line in seconds. And so it begins!

The race

The course is a multi-lap affair that winds around the parliamentary district before heading across the lake and along a major road (thankfully closed to traffic) to a turn-around point. The marathoners do 2 laps of this circuit, the half-marathoners only one. My Garmin is set to lap automatically every 1km so for brevity's sake these are the paces in min/mile, averaged out over each 3km, which is just short of 2 miles.

Miles 1-2: 6:58

This is mostly due to a 6:40 pace first 1km - I reel it in quickly when I realise how fast I'm going, and the rest is around 7:08. It's raining steadily but not too windy; I get a bit of a lift when a Scottish voice behind my shoulder says "That's the most efficient gait I've seen this morning" and yes, he's talking to me! I thank him and float onwards feeling great.

Miles 3-4: 7:09

Right on pace. I get the shock of my life as we run beside the lake - a dude in plastic flip-flops and a bucket hat goes tearing past with the loudest footfalls I've ever heard. Seriously, flip-flops?? I see him later much further on and he's still going, but on the second lap there is no sign of him.....

Miles 5-6: 7:02

Too fast again. Oops. Around mile 5 I realise my right shoe is squelching every time it hits the ground because the rain is really pouring down now. Niiiiice. For the first time, my running friend Ilana's words to me come into my head and it soon becomes my race mantra: Suck it up, Princess, and run!

Miles 7-8: 7:03

Still too fast - there are lots of people around me and I'm matching their pace. I concentrate on running MY OWN race and try to slow down, even if it means I'm getting passed.

Miles 9-10: 7:10

Back on the right pace, but the weather is miserable. There's a guy ahead of me running in a see-through singlet and Speedos. This cheers me up moderately and I think to myself "What is this, Mardi Gras??" Or maybe he just had a better idea than I did of what the weather was going to be like, who knows.

Miles 11-12: 7:12

We go past the HM turn-around and the crowd thins considerably. The leading marathoners are on their way back already and I count (slightly incorrectly) that there are a total of 8 women ahead of me. Hmmmm - I decide a top ten finish would be just the thing to help me forget this misery. It's still pouring with rain, by the way.

Miles 13-14: 7:10

Don't remember what this bit was like. Too busy telling self to suck it up, and trying to stay on pace.

Miles 15-16: 7:12

Out for lap 2. Now I'm lapping HM runners so at least I'm overtaking people, but it's getting harder to stay on pace. I remind myself that this bit isn't meant to feel easy, and to suck it up. I pass a female runner and now I'm in 8th.

Miles 17-18: 7:20

Past the HM turnaround again, I get passed by a girl who looks like she's just cruisin'. Rather than getting annoyed or despondent I think, ok, 9th is still top ten, and keep plugging away. Positive thinking!!

Miles 19-20: 7:25

Near the marathon turn I see someone coming out of a porta-loo ahead of me and lookit that, it's a female runner. She sets off at a fast pace and I think, ok, good for you, that's cool - but am secretly pleased when she slows down dramatically after the turn and I pass her with ease. Back into 8th spot.

Miles 21-22: 7:35

The rain, which had just eased off a bit, now picks up again and there's wind gusts as well as a small but significant incline - I start to lose focus and slow down. Back to chanting my mantra.

Miles 23-24: 7:22

The mantra appears to be working, but only just. All I can think is, when will this be over? By now I'm checking my watch and figuring out what time I'll do if I tank completely and slow down to 8:00 pace, and it's still faster than my NY time, but I'm trying not to succumb to the temptation to give up.

Miles 25-26.2: 7:47

Uh oh. I'm giving it all I've got, but the legs just won't turn over any faster. In a cruel irony, the rain chooses this moment to finally ease almost completely. I get passed by a female runner but whatever, I'm past caring. Just before the finish I hear my 4 year old yelling out "Go Mama! Go Mama!" and it's all I can do to muster a silly grin and wave to him, then THANK GOD it's all over.

The time on my Garmin is 3:12:25, my official time 3:12:27 - turns out I was 10th woman and managed to place 2nd in my age group.

On reflection, there was one person I saw who was coming back when I was suffering my way out on the second lap - by whom I was initially baffled but ultimately decided was male - who clearly was actually female. Whatever, 10th is still technically top ten, and enough to get my name in the local paper. Cool!

The analysis

I'm not sure I could have improved on the training that I did, but it's clear that I still lack somewhat in endurance. From mile 17 or so I definitely shifted down a gear, and by mile 21 I was finding it really hard going. The weather didn't help, but I can't blame it entirely - if I can run 16 miles in those conditions without slowing down, why couldn't I keep it going for the whole 26.2?

I've come away with a new respect for the marathon distance; in New York it was just fun and new and a bit like being in the Olympics, in Canberra it was something entirely other. Take away the 2 million cheering spectators, the perfect weather and, um, NEW YORK, and you've got 26.2 miles of tough slog through teeming rain. I'd say about 17 of those were pretty fun, 4 or 5 were pretty tough and the last 3 or 4 were bloody horrible. I'm proud of the way I approached it, though, and that I never threw in the mental towel.

I'm planning my next marathon now with a new determination and awareness of just how hard it can be......and 3:10, I'm coming for you.

New York Marathon November 2010

For a long time when my focus was on half-marathons, I said I would never be able to stay interested enough to keep running for a full marathon. The thought of a 3 hour training run held absolutely no appeal for me. But sometime during 2009 I think I realised that my HM times were never going to get back to where they were in 2001 or even maybe 2007. Perhaps it was time for a new challenge.....

And then in early 2010 a running friend who lives in New York state suddenly announced that she had signed up for the New York Marathon. I had no idea that it was possible to qualify for guaranteed entry to NYC; I thought it was just the lottery for everyone. In retrospect that sounds dumb, but the world of marathons was uncharted territory for me at that point.

An idea began to take hold: my HM time was fast enough to guarantee me entry for NYC....maybe Mum would come and mind the kids for a week or 10 days......maybe DH could be persuaded that a lightening trip to NY in November was a good (as opposed to insane, extravagant or just plain ridiculous) idea.....maybe I would sign up myself.

The day my status changed to "Accepted" was the day I realised this was serious - we were going to New York! I found myself a relatively simple training plan by Hal Higdon and marked the dates on my calendar. After the relative success of my May HM I started marathon training in late June.

The training

18 weeks, Hal Higdon's Advanced II plan.

I had no major problems with the training plan and the weekly mileage peaked at 53, which in retrospect was fairly modest, as marathon training plans go. The long runs increased slowly from 12 miles (19.2km) to the big one: 20 miles, a distance I completed 3 times during the cycle. After the first one I realised, maybe it would be a good idea to take some energy source along, and settled on GU Chomps. After the second one I realised, maybe I should be taking water too? IDIOT. Needless to say, my 3rd (and final) 20 miler was my favourite.

The travel

My experience of running overseas while living in the UK introduced me to the wonderful concept of running tourism. What better way to get to know a new city than to run a major race there? And what better justification for a trip to New York than to run my first marathon??

The trip to New York was utter luxury: for the first time in over 4 years no screaming baby or manic toddler to worry about, just me and my surprisingly roomy seat on an A380 Airbus, watching movies that did not involve Bob the Builder or the Wiggles. HEAVEN.

The atmosphere in New York was electric when I arrived there 4 days before the marathon. The city was filled with runners, all jumpy from tapering, and as the signs and seating went up in Central Park it really sunk in that I was about to actually DO this. I tried not to tire my legs out by walking too much in the days before the marathon, but it was impossible. The day before the race, DH and I went for a final, gentle jog in Central Park and got caught up in the finish of the International Friendship Race; of course I couldn't resist getting a cheesy picture with my national flag.

Race day

It's still dark and just 38F/1C at 6am when I take the ferry over to Staten Island, and not much warmer throughout the subsequent 3 hours I spend waiting for the 9:40am start. I'm all layered up in old sweats but still, I'm freezing. As the sun comes up it's a beautiful, clear fall day, perfect racing conditions in fact. Finally at 8:20am it's time to enter the corral - Blue Wave Corral 4 - and then at last we move down and onto the ramp approach to the Verrazano Bridge.

Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York" is playing over loudspeakers as the gun goes off and after all that waiting we are suddenly off and running. It takes me less than 90 seconds to get over the actual start line - the dangerous congestion I was expecting thankfully does not eventuate - and so begins my first ever marathon.

Miles 1-2: 7:11 (average pace min/mile)

First mile is uphill with lots of people around, but second is downhill and well below 7:00. Whoa, slow down!

Miles 3-4: 7:02

Obviously not listening to myself at this point.

Miles 5-6: 7:08

Ok, by now I know I'm going quite a bit faster than my stated goal pace of 7:40, but I can't hear my Garmin beeping the splits (the crowd is deafening), so I give up worrying about it and just go with the flow. Hmm, possibly a mistake.

Miles 7-8: 7:11

Miles 9-10: 7:15

Miles 11-12: 7:23

Starting to calm down a bit and getting closer to the pace I said I'd run. No problems at this stage....

Miles 13-14: 7:10

I go through the halfway mark in around 1:36 and I'm feeling fine.

Miles 15-16: 7:24

The Queensboro bridge, first major obstacle of the course so far. It's a punishingly long uphill, not steep, but it just keeps going. I slow down somewhat and my Garmin freaks out when it loses the satellites on the lower deck of the bridge.

Miles 17-18: 7:01

Oops. The excitement of turning onto First Avenue, Manhattan and seeing my DH in the crowd is a little too much and suddenly I'm flying along again on the adrenaline rush.

Miles 19-20: 7:23

Still ahead of the pace I set as my "goal", but finally I'm slowing down. This is supposed to be where many people start hitting The Wall. I actually realise that this is getting harder now, and I lose focus for the first time.

Miles 21-22: 7:39

I'm struggling a bit and letting the pace slide now. I check my Garmin and uh-oh, not happy. All week my American friend Glenn has been goading me about how fast I can run this, though, and his words echo in my head now....so I tell myself "You can do better than this", put my head down and pick it back up.

Miles 23-24: 7:30

DH spots me (I don't see him) and texts my other friends (including Glenn) that I'm not looking so happy now - but when I see Glenn jumping up and down I'm waving like a clown and not looking nearly as horrible as he expected. And I'm nearly there now! The crowds in Central Park are unbelievable, it's like running in the Olympics, and the adrenaline carries me on.

Mile 25-26.2: 7:22

I wave to some random people in the grandstands near Columbus Circle as I turn off Central Park South and head towards the finish. They go nuts and I start laughing - it's such a thrill - and with a big smile still on my face I cross the finish line in the official time of 3:17:02. Woohoo!

The aftermath

They say the best thing to do after a marathon is to keep moving, and it's unavoidable anyway as I have to walk past 59 other UPS trucks to get to the one holding my stuff. Then I have to walk back and out of the park, find my cheer squad and walk all the way back to our hotel near Columbus Circle. This means we cover close to 3 or even 4 miles by the time I get to sit down, but I feel pretty good. After I say goodbye to my American friends and take a luxurious shower, DH and I go and eat greasy pizza in a diner near our hotel, and damn if it doesn't taste just wonderful.

The next day, walking down stairs is not too pleasant and my quads are fairly trashed, but at least I can make it onto the plane back to Australia - unlike some other guy who they have to load in a wheelchair. I refrain from wearing my medal on the plane, though.

There's no doubt that I am hooked on marathons now. In terms of preparation and execution, I can only think of one or two things I would have changed. I'm thrilled I went so far under my official stated goal of 3:30, but aware of the fact that I ran a fairly large positive split (1:36 and 1:41 approximately) and that I can probably do a lot better next time.

Which leads us inevitably to the weekend of April 10th, 2011.

Running in Wagga

Moving out to Wagga Wagga (5hrs drive to the southwest of Sydney) at the end of 2007 had some immediate and direct benefits for my running. Firstly, we moved to a house conveniently located next to a lake with a smooth gravel trail the whole way around it - the perfect running route, flat and traffic-free!

Second, I became something of a big fish in a small pond, since the running community in these parts is fairly small. Being pregnant for most of 2008 meant racing was out, but I didn't miss much: there are unfortunately only two major running events in this area, namely the Wagga Wagga Trail Marathon in August and the Lake to Lagoon in September.

By August 2009 I was raring to go, though, so I entered the 10K race associated with the Trail Marathon. It was a rainy day so the course was a very muddy and slippery out-and-back along the Murrumbidgee River - I ran it in 46:03 which to me seemed very slow but was enough to get 3rd female finisher. I think I won a pair of socks - thrilling - but really all I wanted to do was to get home and get dry!

In September that year I ran my first Lake to Lagoon, a 9.5km race from the lake near our place to the lagoon in central Wagga. Did I mention how much I hate late starts? The race began at 10:30am on an unseasonably warm September day - by the time the gun went off it was already almost 30C (86F). Worse still, the whole first half of the course was uphill.......and when I finally reached the crest of Lake Albert Road - the rest of the course being mostly downhill - I realised there was now a rather strong headwind to contend with. Aaaaargh!!

I finished in 40:52 as the 4th female - clearly I was not the only one struggling with the conditions, as there were several people actually passed out on the river-side path towards the end - and was moderately chuffed to find I was the fastest local woman. Not chuffed enough to feel inclined to enter again in 2010, though!

In August 2010 I did however feel that the Trail Marathon and its associated races were worth another try. This time I entered the half-marathon and was looking forward to the relatively flat trails where it is usually held.

But the weather, it seemed, had something else in mind for me. Four days before the race, an enormous downpour dumped 2 inches of rain on Wagga in the space of 10 minutes, which when added to the already soaked ground (we were in the midst of our wettest year on record) created flooding over many parts of the intended marathon/half-marathon course. A sudden course change was in order!

A punishing out-and-back course was laid, starting by the Lake at the Boat Club and climbing to the top of Red Hill (ouch!) before snaking along the top of Willans Hill (double ouch!) and out towards the Olympic Highway, somewhere I had never yet ventured. But all that was about to change.

On the morning of the race I jogged the 1.5 miles over to the start in nice cool weather and arrived to find a small crowd of runners waiting by the lake. I quickly spotted my main competitor in the half-marathon field - she was the only person there wearing compression socks - and chatted with her until we were ready to line up at the start.

The gun went off and I was quickly out in front, somewhat to my surprise. I was planning to run the race as a long run, since I was now in training for the real thing: my first marathon some 3 months away. But perhaps I could be persuaded to race after all, particularly if I had a chance of winning!

The course at first was flat and fairly fast - but then we turned up Red Hill Road. I had run over this hill many times before and found it hard but not impossible; I did not realise that a fair chunk has actually been cut out of the hill to allow the road through, and that the running path would continue steeply upwards long after the road had levelled out. Yikes - by the top I was still running but only just. My Garmin tells the story of how hilly the course proved to be:

The huge hills - and their accompanying downhills - made for a wildly swinging race pace. The graph at the bottom shows the course's elevation profile - and for those used to miles per minute, I started out around 7:00 but between 4 and 5km dived to 8:30 before speeding up again to around 7:00 pace, then back down to 8:40ish, and so on. You will see that in the final stretches I even sped up to 6:50 at one stage, but that's another story, and it comes back to my friendly rival in compression socks.

As the first half of the race progressed I knew I was in the lead and I possibly got a bit cocky, thinking I had put a fair distance between myself and the other women in the race. At the turn-around I got a nasty shock: Ms Compression Socks was only 40 seconds behind. Oooops. It was time for a rethink - but the hills were killing me and after a short downhill we were once again climbing and climbing as we came back up the side of Willans Hill. I tried to pick it up but wasn't succeeding too well.......and then something really dumb happened.

I mentioned before that the course had been hastily re-laid on the two days beforehand, due to flooding. A consequence of this was that in some places - where the bush was thick and the track unclear - it was pretty hard to know which way to go. Being out the front did not help in this regard, and around the 16km (10 mile) mark I briefly lost my way. I found myself heading down towards a road, and thought "I don't remember this from the outward leg...."

By the time I realised and headed back up the hill, it was too late: I spotted a runner and lo, it was Ms Socks, now in front of me. All together now: BUGGER!

I now put the pedal to the metal and sure enough managed to catch and pass her on the steep uphill to the crest of Red Hill - but the effort spent meant that I could not hold onto my lead for very long. Within a kilometer - the one run in 4:13 - she was on my tail, and with around 2.5km left she passed me at last. I crossed the finish line just 30 seconds behind, in a time of 1:39:20, for second place. Who knows if those 30 seconds might have been mine, had I not taken the wrong turn when I did?

It was slightly galling that she won a swag of cool stuff (gift vouchers and such) when all I got was this mingy little trophy, but I had learned two important lessons:

1) Never, ever underestimate the competition;

2) Compression socks make you look like you mean business.

I would remember both these points for my first full marathon experience later that year.