Lake to Lagoon Fun Run, September 2012

The Lake to Lagoon is Wagga's biggest (and, um, only) road race and afforded me a minor degree of local celebrity last year, when I won it mostly untrained and in not much style at all (ending up in the medical tent is never a good look).

This year, the pressure was totally on to repeat my victory, especially after my success in the Trail Marathon 3 weeks earlier. I knew that I was in great running shape - 2012 has been my best year of running ever - and that barring someone speedy showing up from out of town, I had a good chance of winning again.

BUT - my immune system apparently had other ideas. The head cold that had me feeling disgusting on the morning of the City2Surf passed quickly enough, but in the week before the Lake to Lagoon I realised I was now getting laryngitis. On Friday morning I started coughing, and by Saturday it was clear that the virus was planning on heading south to my lungs. I prepared myself with a ventolin inhaler and some cough suppressant, which at least meant I got a reasonable sleep on Saturday night, but when I awoke on Sunday not really any better, I knew anything could happen during the course of the run.


The Training
Nothing specific - I just ran as much as I could in the week after the trail marathon (on VERY sore legs) and hit 76 miles the week after that. I cut back on the distance some in the lead-up to the Lake to Lagoon, left out the weekly long run altogether, and just counted on the race distance (9.5km or just under 6 miles) being short enough that I could treat it as a tempo run and not die. Also, the knowledge that I had run the City2Surf at an overall pace that I would happily accept for this shorter race meant I had some measure of confidence going into it.


Race Day
A chance to sleep in! The ridiculously late 10:30am start for this race has at least one advantage: I get to snooze until 7am, when the kids come in and jump on me, demanding raisin toast and my undivided attention. It's a cool and cloudless day, perfect for running, although I know it will probably get quite warm later on.

My husband is running the race too, so we drop Mum and the kids off in town at the park where the race finishes, and drive home to finalise our preparations. I run a 2 mile warm-up up and down our street, and make two important decisions - I need less socks, and MORE PINK. I ditch the black compression socks in favour of some grey/pink Injinji toe socks that I love (it's too warm to wear long socks) and change my black shorts for the pink ones that have been my lucky racing charm this year.

We run another mile together to the start, where we easily insert ourselves right behind the start line - a big advantage of this small race, although the large number of young kids also lined up right there is a distinct problem - and mooch around chatting to various acquaintances. Our friend Paul is there - he who made me start out way too fast last year - I tell him impertinently "I'm going to beat you this time" and he just laughs knowingly.

Before too long it's time for the dorky warm-up stuff and I find myself right behind the Leader of the Opposition, Tony Abbott. Can't say I respect his politics, but I respect a man who can run. Right up until the gun goes off and he sets off at a snail's pace, forcing me to dodge and weave like a maniac in order to get in front. What a loser!

The start, with many tweens and teenagers right at the front

Mile 1: 6:03 (pace in min/mile)
Hurtling along the first mile, the kids are thick and fast in front of me, but all totally dying within about 200 meters. At one point I grab the two in front of me by the shoulders and say "LOOK OUT" whilst moving them as gently as I can to each side - they're zigging and zagging for all they are worth, and the last thing I need now is to be taken out by a 12 year-old. Thankfully the crowd thins quickly and by the time we pass the 1km mark I've overtaken the last female ahead of me. Now to see if I can hold onto the lead.

Mile 2: 6:29
Oooof. This whole mile is uphill: not a steep incline, but it goes on and on and on. I know I've slowed down, but the guys ahead of me are slowing down more, so I concentrate on staying comfortable and in control. We're out in full sun on Lake Albert Road now, and it's a lot warmer than I was expecting. I grab a cup of water from the table halfway up, even though they are both plastic and WAY too full. Water goes all over the place, but at least some of it makes it into my mouth. Yay, I think.

Mile 3: 6:17
Halfway through this mile we crest the hill and start the descent towards town. A couple of men go pelting past me - I'm vaguely wondering if one of them is Crazy Downhill Guy from the Trail Marathon - and then it happens: I start catching up to the cyclists, who started the race 30 minutes earlier than the runners. Uh oh, this might be a problem.

Newspaper clipping, with extra quads muscle on top

Mile 4: 6:01
Around the corner into Copland Street and into the steepest part of the descent. A couple of kids on bikes go whizzing past, with their parents in hot pursuit screaming "WATCH OUT FOR THE RUNNERS!!" But I'm in no danger, thank god, and I'm feeling a LOT different to last year - this is around where I started to feel dizzy and weird. I do a quick check: brain, breathing, legs, it's all feeling good. It's pretty much all flat from here, time to dig in and go as fast as I can to the finish. Without hitting the wall, of course.

Mile 5: 6:19
Now we're running along beside the river, on a path that was part of the Trail Marathon. It's rough in places, with a few undulations and some narrow sections, but I'm ready for it this time. A guy in front of me is wearing a t-shirt with "THE JUDGE" printed in black across the back - but before I can wonder what the heck that means, we come around a corner and encounter a small child on a bike.

He's right in the middle of the path, stuck halfway up a short but steep incline. His mother is standing next to her bike at the top, begging him to move, but the poor little guy just can't. Does my maternal instinct take over? Do I stop and gently push him to the top? No bloody way! And anyway, I don't need to because the Judge - an obviously fast and competitive runner - has just stopped to help the child.....while I neatly side-step the whole debacle and keep going. Winning!

Mile 6 (0.88 miles): 6:18
We finally leave the levee bank and drop down to the road. The finish area is almost in sight! I'm not sure if I have much of a kick left, but I know I'm probably well ahead of the nearest female runner, so I'm not exactly motivated to kill myself in the home stretch. The Judge reappears next to me and, with about 400m to go, he suddenly takes off at a sprint. Good for him! I'd like to do the same, but I'd rather not fall in the lap of the timing lady as I cross the line this year, so I'm not trying very hard.

As we get closer to the final turn there are people yelling my name - I can't make out any of their faces, although the ones yelling "GO MUMMY!" are hopefully my children -  and as I turn into the finish chute I hear the announcers declaring that I'm the female winner. Hooray, I did it! Again!

My husband finishes strong in 44:07, a substantial PR for him (and he's beaten that politician by over 2 minutes), so we're both beaming and strutting around the Lagoon area when our son takes this photo of his overexcited parents:

Fastest married couple in the race??

Finish time: 36:39 (6:15 pace and a new race record!!)

Placement: 23rd OA, 1st OA woman

The kids are beyond excited that I won again, and I get my photo taken with a humungous trophy that I've never seen before, yet it has my name on it already from last year. Weird, but whatever! The prize money is rather different to the trail marathon spoils (a $20 gift card for a local sports store) but the race is free and I'm so excited to have finished upright that I really don't care.

Man, these trophies are HEAVY. And why is mine smaller??

The Analysis
Not much brainpower required to figure out why I felt so much better this year than last; the challenge is going to be seeing if I can run it faster next year or not. In theory (according to the McMillan calculator) I should be running close to 6:00 min/mile for this distance, although the hill might give me a little bit of wiggle room, so I guess 36:00 is the next goal.

Meanwhile, here's a clip of me talking REALLYFASTANDOVEREXCITED on local TV!

Wagga Wagga Trail Marathon 2012

I am definitely NOT a trail runner. A year ago I bought a pair of pink (of course) Asics trail shoes and up until last weekend I had run a grand total of 30 miles in them. But with a couple of really satisfying road marathons under my belt already this year, I was enticed by the thought of something new.

I've run the half-marathon and the 10K events in the Wagga Wagga Running Weekend before: I came 3rd in the 10K in 2009 and 2nd in the HM in 2010. With all the miles I've been running in 2012, it seemed like a pretty good idea to enter the full marathon this time, and after some encouragement from my friend Paul (the one who almost killed me in the Lake to Lagoon last year, I have no idea why I listen to him at all anymore) I signed up.

Although it would take place at the end of my first week of supposed training for NYC, I figured I could do it as a long training run.....and after googling the results from years gone by, I also figured I could possibly win the race. And thus, armed with these two totally conflicting notions, I ventured forth into the world of trail running.


The Training
Ah yes, training. Well, that would involve NO trail running of any sort; a week off followed by a tough race one week beforehand; not nearly enough sleep and practically no carb-loading at all in the lead-up (unless you count a bowl of cereal for dinner on Saturday night); and no particular taper other than an unintentional single day off the day before. The race would get me to 73 miles for the week - not exactly your usual taper scenario.


Race Day
A beautiful winter's morning greets me as I drive the short distance into town and pull up at Wagga Beach, which is not so much a beach as a small patch of sand next to the Murrumbidgee River.

It's 5C/41F so I pull on my CIM armwarmers (knee socks with holes cut in the toes and heel) and down a vanilla GU before wandering over to the start area, where runners are milling around already. It's all pretty casual so I line up right at the front next to the guy who (unbeknownst to me at that point) will end up being the overall winner. The mayor of Wagga counts down from 5 to 1 - clearly they don't trust him with a gun - and off we go along the river heading south.

Wheeee! Note Singlet Girl right behind me.

Miles 1-3: 7:33, 7:22, 7:21 (pace in min/mile)
The girl who was just behind me at the start now shoots past me and pulls ahead. She and the bloke running next to her have white/blue singlets with "BALLARAT" on the back - clearly they are associated with some running group in that town, which is maybe 3 hours drive south and across the border in Victoria.

Mexicans! I was beaten in the HM by a woman from Victoria and I'm not cool with the idea of being beaten again in the same manner. I look at the pace: 7:01. Too fast - and I'm too smart now to be tempted to go with her. Disappointment shoots through  me, but I tell myself it's early yet and I have over 20 miles in which to catch her. I settle into a comfortable pace and the miles start ticking by.

Miles 4-6: 7:16, 7:32, 7:44
We are heading out towards my home at Lake Albert and this is all very familiar running territory, so I try to relax and not worry too much about pace - I'm thinking anything between 7:30-7:45 is my overall goal. Behind me a couple of guys, one with a strong Irish accent, are discussing their previous marathons (one has run one, the other none) and their time goals for this race, which they agree is around 3:45.

I have to do it - I drop back and say casually "You guys are going way too fast if that's your goal time." They're both surprised and one remarks that he's banking time in case it gets tough at the finish. He won't believe that this isn't a wonderful idea, so I chat with them for a while, warn them again not to go out too fast, and off we go up Red Hill - the first but most definitely not the last of the big hills.

Elevation profile: ouch, ouch and OUCH.

Miles 7-8: 7:46, 7:32
Red Hill is enormous and it just keeps on going as we turn left at the top and head along the ridge. Irish and his mate drop behind and I'm running on my own for the most part as we make our way through the bush and down to Lloyd. We go through the spot where I got lost 2 years ago in the HM - this time I'm much more aware of the white arrows that someone has painted on the ground, and keeping track of them keeps me busy until it's time to take my first GU.

Thankfully there's a water table coming up, and I have to laugh when I think about the water stops at Boston or Gold Coast - this one is a small picnic table with a jug of water and about 20 cups on it, manned by somebody's lovely grandmother. She hands me a cup and says Watch your step, dear! I'm so enjoying this run that I've almost forgotten what lies ahead.

Miles 9-11: 7:58, 7:56, 7:14
More hills, more hills and more hills. OMG, they don't stop coming. I pass a tall bloke going up a very steep incline, only to have him pelt past me on the subsequent downhill. He gasps out "I always do this, I'm faster on the downhills" when I exclaim at the way he's barrelling along, and then of course I catch him once more on the next hill. I wait for him to pass again on the very pleasant downhill that finally follows, but is that the sound of retching I hear behind me? He never reappears.

Miles 12-14: 7:20, 7:12, 7:42
The downhill portion continues on a narrow single trail through trees and over the odd creek. I start catching more people now - some have "Early Start" bibs on, including an old bloke who is powerwalking dressed in head-to-toe dayglo orange - but others are from the group that shot ahead at the start. So far I've mostly avoided the mud, but now we go through a brick tunnel under a railway line (it's about 25m long and narrow enough that I'm almost doubled over) and there's water all over the place. Splash, splash, enormous jump.

Through halfway in around 1:38, I spot a pair of runners maybe just under half a mile up ahead. Both are wearing white/blue singlets - could it be I'm actually catching Singlet Girl?? This is HUGE! But I have other things to worry about now, because we're heading up the hill towards the biggest challenge of them all: Pomigalana Reserve.

Miles 15 - 16: 7:39, 7:49
Up, up, up we go on fire trail with the occasional narrower stretch. The urge to speed up is overwhelming every time I spot a white singlet ahead of me - I'm still not 100% sure if it's that girl, her male friend or somebody else- but I tell myself I've got 11 miles to catch them, and even if I go just a few seconds per mile faster than they do, it will still be enough. We head into some switchbacks and DAMN she looks close now, it's definitely her! But the path narrows further and becomes a lot more technical, so I focus on my feet and try not to freak out. There's a water stop ahead, so I down a GU and  it pumps me up for the challenge ahead.

Miles 17-18: 8:05, 8:14
I've never run Pomigalana before, so I start getting worried when small signs start appearing on trees next to the track saying "Pete's Precipice", "Dead Man's Gap" and other threatening things. After "Hell's Mouth" I figure it cannot get much worse: we're running on mountain bike track now and it's steep, twisty and rough. I pass an older runner and, distracted momentarily, trip on a tree root. My low centre of gravity and some wild arm-circling keeps me from eating the dust - thank God - and I hear the other guy yell out "That was close!" Too right it was, and the other thing that is now getting close is that Singlet Girl ahead of me.

Miles 19-20: 7:49, 7:07
We finally crest the hill during mile 19 and now I'm RIGHT on her tail. Dilemma - do I hang here and make her push the pace, or do I pass her and deal with the mental pressure of trying to build a lead? I'm definitely going to stay behind her for the next 3-4 miles, I decide, right before she suddenly slows on the descent and.......I go rocketing straight past. Oops. Careering downhill we catch and pass another two male runners, and now I feel the panic rise: she's right behind me, and building a lead that I can hold is maybe not going to be that easy.

Through a turnstile (WTF?) and onto the flat, determined now to win

Miles 21-22: 7:31, 7:29
Off we go down the road, me in front with Singlet Girl in hot pursuit. I'm holding back the panic, telling myself that she went out too fast and that I can hold her off. I'm also remembering the HM 2 years ago, though, where I led for most of the race and was passed in the final few miles. Don't give up, just keep going, don't give up -- but she's breathing down my neck.

After 2 miles we approach a water stop and she slows a lot more than I do: I pull ahead at last. I take my last GU early in an attempt to give myself enough fuel for the duration; I'm aware now that I'm running out of glycogen and mentally I am kicking myself for not carb loading properly yesterday.

The other, possibly bigger obstacle now standing in my way is the presence of 6-7 stiles on the final portion of the race, which runs along the banks of the Murrumbidgee river. They interrupt your rhythm and I hate starting and stopping during a run - but there's no way around them. Onward I go.

Miles 23-24: 7:29, 8:22
At first all goes well and as I slow to climb the first few stiles, I can neither see nor hear Singlet Girl behind me. But really I have NO idea how far ahead I am, so I shake off the thought of winning (or not winning) and concentrate on running. My shoe treads are full of dirt now and it finally happens: I slide on a patch of mud and down I go onto both hands and my right knee. There's not much damage and I hop right back up - I'm not going to let anything stop me now - and decide to discard my armwarmers. They're covered in dirt, I'm starting to feel warm, and I want to look good when I cross the line in first place. I have no idea what is coming, but ignorance is bliss, right?

So, after surviving the fall I'm buoyant, thinking I can really DO this! But then I see it up ahead - a stretch of soft sand, maybe half a mile of it. Ooooof - my pace crumbles and it's all I can do to keep moving. For the first time since the Trails of Death at Pomigalana I slow down significantly, and I feel like I'm barely moving. Ugh, it's horrible, and I can only hope that it's having the same effect on Singlet Girl....

Miles 25-26: 8:02, 7:49
Out of the sand I manage to pull myself together somewhat again, but I'm drained. An enthusiastic timekeeper/water person yells "First lady! First lady!" at me and rings a bell - I'm too wiped out to respond other than to wave and keep going - I wonder if he might ring it again when Singlet Girl comes through, so I keep my ears open, but I hear nothing. Is that a good sign? I really should look around, but I'm too scared.

Final 0.2: 6:08 pace
I can see the finish! It's not as far as I thought, so finally I pluck up the courage to look over my shoulder and --- HOLY CRAP, Singlet Girl is maybe 50m behind me!!

I put my head down and sprint desperately for the line. NO WAY I'm going to let her catch me now! No way no way no way -- and finally I'm over the line in the most inelegant and unphotogenic manner possible:

but I just WON!

Finish time: 3:19:07

Placement: 3rd OA, 1st OA female

Turns out Singlet Girl is just 26 years old, so I have not only scored a victory for local runners (the male winner is also a Wagga resident), I've also struck a blow for Old Running Ladies. And won my age group!

I decide to take an icebath in the river - 15 minutes of agony and a mild case of hypothermia ensue - and then it's time for the presentation. I get a big trophy, a medal and a cheque for $500, then it's off home and back to life as normal, but with exquisitely sore legs.

What next?

Despite enjoying the run and of course the spoils, I'm not sold on trail running as my future direction. It's hard - almost 5 days later I'm still REALLY sore - and I prefer speed over stumbling down technical trails.

But I'm not sure I want to keep racing road marathons one after the other like I have been the past couple of years. Maybe it's time to take things down a notch and stop obsessing over mileage and times, or maybe not. Looking ahead, Boston 2013 may be my next big goal marathon, and beyond that......I really have no idea. 

City2Surf, August 2012

The 14km (8.75 mile) City2Surf is Sydney's best-known running race and is also the biggest race in the world, with some 80,000 participants starting in 3 or 4 separate waves. It was my first ever race, back in 2000 when I was a brand new runner, and I ran it again in 2001 in 55:23, earning myself a Certificate of Merit and a preferred start for 2002.

We all know how THAT turned out, and time and events conspired to keep me from participating again until this year, when I somehow decided that a 14km race the day after a week of skiing (during which no running would happen at all) would be just the right thing to do. After securing a preferred runner start - to make up for the one I missed back in 2001 - not even a flat battery before the 5-6 hour drive from the snowfields could dissuade me from running the City2Surf again.

However! I am usually ridiculously healthy and can count on one hand the number of times I have been sick in the past few years. BUT -  the week at the snow had other things in store for me. Many people get sick while tapering for a marathon, their bodies seeing the sudden reduction in training as some sort of signal to shut the immune system down for a while. For me, no running whilst skiing translated into a day of gastro (thank you, children) followed by the insidious onset of a nasty head cold. During the taper for Gold Coast, I had 2 small kids coughing all over me and in my face for the entire two weeks and I was fine -- but now, I was down for the count. All together now: SIGH.


The travel
We drive up to Sydney from skiing with the obligatory stop at McDonalds, where I sneeze, blow my nose and make myself eat half a piece of banana bread in a very half-hearted attempt at carbo-loading. The kids are extremely excited to arrive at the swanky Shangri-La hotel for a very short (12 hour) stay, and one of them comments on how pretty all the city lights look with all that rain on the windows outside! Rain? Yep, rain. Awesome.


Race Day
I'm awake as usual at 5:30am and lie there feeling reluctant until 6am, when I get up and slink around in the dark getting dressed. I pull an enormous fleece top that is left over from when I was pregnant (yes, it's really enormous) over the top of my race outfit, fill my pockets with vanilla GU pouches, slip my phone into a plastic ziplock bag and set off for the train station. At least it's not raining - and fairly quickly I decide to jog to the start area rather than bothering with the train. In no time at all I am in Hyde Park, and it's fairly deserted still, so I make use of the porta-loos and then just wander aimlessly around until it's time to start warming up.

It's really quite cold, for Sydney, and I don't feel even remotely warm when I finish a few laps up and down William St in front of the start line. I haven't eaten breakfast so I remember to take a GU an hour before the start and another 15 minutes before; that will have to do me until I get to Bondi. I keep the hideous fleece on until there are so many other bodies around me that I can make do without it, and lined up in the preferred runners' area I'm totally surrounded by men who are taller than me. One of them is dressed as Superman (he has a seeded number!) and another as Spiderman (complete with mask) - I have no idea why. At least they're blocking the wind.

I shove my (plastic-bag-protected) phone in the side of my bra, but it feels weird. I stick it down the front, but that's plain strange. I try to stuff it in my shorts pocket, but it's too big. Eventually I decide to put it down the back of my bra. This is not a clever move, and I will find out why in about 7 miles' time.

It might be the cold making my brain fuzzy, but I don't even get nervous while I'm standing there. It's as if I'm just there to hang about with a whole bunch of people, and what's this about a race? Huh? When the gun goes off I'm moderately surprised (did someone get shot?) but I hit my Garmin and move forward with surprisingly little difficulty considering how crowded it is. And wheeee, I'm off down William St with 25,000 of my closest running buddies right around me.

Mile 1: 6:09 (pace in min/mile)
Immediately I don't really feel good. The downhill bit is great but the uphill towards Kings Cross is not - I feel like I'm working too hard and I can't find that "comfortably tough" gear I usually use for races. And, it's cold and windy. I'm starting to resign myself to the fact that I may not beat 2001's time after all. This is the first negative thought that enters my mind, and it won't be the last.

Mile 2: 6:21
Hmm, that's slower than I was hoping - somewhere along the line, 6:20 has become my goal pace. I know that will get me at least close to my ancient PR, so 6:20 it is. The hills just keep coming. I can't get comfortable. Man, this race really SUCKS.

Mile 3: 6:18
I haven't seen Spiderman or Superman again, but now at least I pass Chewbacca, who is loping along and not looking happy. A light rain starts - it's not too unpleasant, but it will be if it gets any heavier - and I'm acutely aware that Heartbreak Hill is coming up soon. Could I get any more disinterested in this race? I wonder.

Mile 4: 6:26
The start of the big hill slows this mile down somewhat. I'm trying to remember how long it is, and memories from 2001 flash through my mind: a fellow runner encouraging me, his words about pumping my arms and keeping my stride short. No problems with the second part of that - my shuffly gait is perfect for hills, really - and soon I'm passing quite a lot of people.

Add caption

Mile 5: 6:52
Ugh, Heartbreak Hill is TOUGH. Much longer and steeper than its parent hill in Boston - and there are no cheering people or signs to let you know it's almost over. I glance at my pace and see 7:11, which makes me seriously annoyed, and that speeds me up enough to get my average pace back up some. And then finally that goddamn hill is over....

Mile 6: 6:08
Ok, this one is a surprise. I still don't feel like I am really running well or all that fast, so 6:08 is not what I was expecting for this mile. I go through the 10K mark in around 39:30, and now there's an evil headwind, and nobody around me really to block it. Lovely - more negative thoughts crowd in and I try in vain to shut them out. My phone is sliding down from between my shoulderblades and I shove it back into position a few times without realising what is about to occur. The course is still undulating but I think that's the last hill - no, that one must be the last - no, that one is definitely it. I think.

Mile 7: 6:41
I'm zooming along past a water stop when it happens: before I can reach for it, my phone (lubricated, no doubt, by sweat and rain) suddenly slides down the back of my shirt and hits the road beside me. OMG! I screech to a stop and grab desperately for it. It takes me several goes to get hold of the bloody thing - during which time, thankfully, nobody steps on it - and some choice words come out of my mouth whilst I'm flailing around trying to keep my balance on the slippery road. Starting back up again feels HORRIBLE - I've never liked stopping during a run - and I've lost at least 10-15 seconds in the process. Bugger. Did I mention that I'm not really enjoying this run? At least there's less than 2 miles to go.

At least I don't look as bad as the guys to my left.....

Mile 8: 5:49
Downhill!!! I shove the stupid phone down the front of my bra; my boobs now look flat and square, which is fine with me at this point. A girl in a white shirt passes me then slows; I pass her right on back and keep going. The mile split beeps and I realise I just made up most of the time I lost on Heartbreak Hill and in the phone fiasco. Could it be that I'm still on track? I cannot bear to look.

Last 0.75 miles: 6:05 pace
This bit is all flat, along Campbell Parade to the roundabout and then a sharp turn onto the finish chute by the beach. I'm telling myself to just keep going, just keep going - white shirt girl passes me but I just don't care. I round the corner and make myself look up: the clock is ticking over to 54:00! I have 90 seconds to get over that line and I'M GOING TO MAKE IT!! I put my head down and sprint with all I've got left, which is not terribly much, and then I'm over the line and grinding to a somewhat wobbly halt.

Almost there!

Finish time: 54:58 (chip time, 6:17 pace)

Placement: 24th OA woman, 2nd AG (F40-49)

The Analysis
New PR! Hooray!! I cannot quite believe it. I really didn't do much right in the lead-up to this race - I got sick, I didn't carb load at all, I didn't run for 7 days beforehand and I did no speedwork at all since Gold Coast - so I'm very happy that I ended up running as well as I did. Not much about the race was fun, though, and unless the weather gods can guarantee me a perfect sunny day next time, I am not particularly interested in running it again. Yeah, I'm getting PICKY in my old age.

Gold Coast Marathon, July 2012

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

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


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

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

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


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

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

He did it!

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

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

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


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

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

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


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

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


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

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


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

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


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


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



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

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

Almost there, and digging deep.

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SMH Half-Marathon, May 2012

The Sydney Morning Herald half is one of my favourite races and, in 2001, was the first HM I ever ran. I finished in 1:26:24 and was training hard to beat that time in 2002 when I was blown off the map by my accident. Then, in 2010 this race was my first HM where I managed to creep back under 1:30 after my post-second-baby slump.

I didn't crack it by much, though - the course that year was a 2-lap affair with a nasty hill right near the end, and it totally slowed me down the second time I had to run up it - but for 2012 a new, single-lap course had been introduced and once again I was able to get preferred runner status. So I was excited to be able to line up for another try in 2012 - especially on the back of my recent running form.

Course map

The training
I really didn't make many changes to my current marathon training plan, other than to shift the long run earlier in the week and run a very short (4 miles) run the day before the race. I still hit my weekly total of 74 miles (119km) but felt relatively rested for the race, which was a relief.

The travel
Ooh, the excitement when I decided I wasn't up for 10 hours of driving and instead took the kids by plane to Sydney. We lobbed in early on Friday afternoon, hopped on the train and hit the (tiny) expo. I had already decided on my race outfit - a departure from my usual pink, I was going to wear my lucky/skimpy Boston outfit and the hideous orange/red shirt I bought to make up for the fact that the Boston 2012 jacket was too awful to waste money on - but this did not stop me from buying a very cute new running skirt there, um, just because.

Race Day
Pop comes over to stay the night before - since DH and I are both running the race - and so I end up sharing a bed with my daughter, who kicks and wakes me at various intervals in between the times when I wake up just because I'm wired. I give up at 4:30am and sneak out to eat a banana, drink some coffee and generally try to wake up.

Strangely for me, I find I'm not in the mood to race. There's a stupid, negative voice in my head that is saying "Blah blah, I can't be bothered with this". I realise pretty swiftly that last weekend's 5K has done a number on my confidence - even though I placed well, it was a far slower time than I *should* be able to run - and as a result I'm doubting myself and wanting to just hide and forget about racing.

Well, this won't do at all. I give that voice a stern talking-to and then retreat to my usual pre-race state of denial, where I'm just off for a lovely run and whatever time I manage will do just fine. Shortly after 6am we leave the apartment and join a stream of runners heading over to Hyde Park, and by 6:20 I'm warming up in the seeded/preferred runners area in front of the start.

There I spot a familiar face and realise it's Keith Bateman, a world-class Australian Masters runner who was profiled in last month's Australian Runners World magazine - in an article about getting faster with age, something that is right up my alley! I go over to say hi and get accosted by a tall skinny bloke who is standing with him. Tall skinny bloke starts telling me that the secret to running better over 40 years of age is to run BAREFOOT! Yes!! You MUST do it! It's the WAY!!! He's up to 10K already! He has a rather scary, wild-eyed look and I back away slowly, nodding politely and smiling, saying OK! I will! I'll try soon! But oh - I don't live in Sydney - ok bye.....

It's cold (9C/48F) but once I'm wedged in amongst the rest of my starting group I don't feel too bad. After a whole lot of shuffling back - they haven't left enough space for all the preferred and seeded runners, somehow - the gun goes off and we shuffle forwards instead, and yay! We're running!

Miles 1-3: 5:50, 6:18, 6:22 (pace in min/mile)

Off we storm down Macquarie St and past Circular Quay. It's all downhill and I feel GREAT! Until I look at my watch and realise OOPS! I am going out way too fast! Didn't I learn yet not to do that? Conscious effort slows me down for the next two miles, during which Tonz from RW's 3:20 thread cruises gently past me. He scolds me for not wearing pink, saying he didn't recognise me without it, and asks how I'm feeling. I'm actually worrying stupidly that I've somehow screwed up the whole race with that one too-fast first mile, but I say "Ok I think..." and he disappears amongst the runners ahead.

5K split: 19:07 (new PR!!)

Miles 4-6: 6:14, 6:16, 6:28

We're running along right next to the Harbour now and there's a bit of wind, but nothing dramatic. I've settled into a good rhythm that is only slightly disrupted by the first of quite a few little ups and downs that we take as we run through Pyrmont. There are runners coming the other way at one point and I see the leading female, who looks more like a bloke, and the girl in second place. She looks like a tiny, blonde pixie. I'm not about to pressure myself by counting how many women are ahead of me, so I focus on lengthening my stride and staying relaxed.

10K split: 39:13 (14 seconds off my PR)


Miles 7-9: 6:27, 6:18,  6:16

Somewhere in here I realise that for a mile or two I've been trading spots with another female runner. She's wearing blue and - although it pains me to say this - looks like she's probably in my age group. She's fast, though, and she keeps pulling back ahead of me when I pass her. I decide my mission in this race will be to beat her. We go on like this for another mile until she slows down to get water - and I pounce on my chance to drop her. I don't see her again (until after the finish) and the whole process is a great mental boost.

Miles 10-12: 6:29, 6:15, 6:04

Then around mile 10 something hilarious happens. We run over the Cahill expressway and exit onto Macquarie Street (once again) and in doing so I pass a bloke who sounds to be working pretty hard. He gasps in my ear "First chick??" as I move ahead of him, and it's all I can do not to fall over laughing. He really thinks he's that close to the leaders?? I gasp back "No!! But.....thanks!" and then we hit the uphill.....and he's gone.

Well, I guess I DO look quite relaxed

It's tough heading back up Macquarie Street and I know this will be one of the slower miles, but then we crest the hill and I see the finish. The 3rd male has just run a 1:08 - but we have to loop right down to Lady Macquarie's Chair and back up past the Art Gallery. Ugh. I know this bit is going to be hard, but at least I'm still on pace. And there's a downhill - wheee! The blokey leading female goes past on her way back up and wow, she does NOT look happy. Tiny Pixie is gaining on her...

2nd 10K split: 39:49

Mile 13 + 0.1: 6:25, 5:38 pace to finish

Slogging back up the hill from the harbour, I'm not thinking much other than that I'm almost there. I deliberately haven't looked at my overall time even once since the 10K mark, so I really have no idea what the clock is going to show when I make that final turn into the park. I'm guessing 1:24:xx, so I'm gunning for the line like a crazy maniac when I look up and it says 1:23.

Finish time: 1:23:29, 6:22 pace

Right across the line I find Tonz, who has just run a new PR of 1:21:17 and is standing there looking sweaty and happy. Blue Woman shows up - she's finished 45 seconds behind me and like almost everyone I know in Australia who is a serious runner, is going for sub-3 at Gold Coast in July - so we all congratulate each other and say "see you there!" I take off running pretty quickly in order to get back to the hotel, pick up kids & Pop and get back in time to see DH finish in a very respectable 1:56:44, which is amazing considering he's never run more than about 10 miles in his life before.

The analysis
14th OA woman (4402 female finishers)
2nd AG (40-49)


I never would have thought I'd be taking more than 2 minutes off my old PR at the age of 42, and more than 11 years after I set it. It's all a testimony to the power of RUN MORE, really, and there's nothing more to it. And it feels great!

Not very long ago I told a friend that once I broke 3 hours for the marathon, all my running ambitions would be fulfilled and I wouldn't be thinking or trying to further improve my time significantly. But here I am, doing just that, and wondering if I have 2:55:xx in me for Gold Coast after all. It's a bold goal, and a lot of that pressure stuff I don't like, but why not aim high?

And although I've now lined up my HM best time with my marathon ambitions, the matter of my ridiculously soft 5K and 10K PRs remains - I've never been one to enjoy frequent racing, but something has changed in my brain this year, and I know that I have plenty to work on even if I decide to take a break from marathoning. So many races, so little time!

Mother's Day Classic 5K, Canberra 2012

I've run 4 marathons now and probably close to 20 HMs, but until last weekend I had never raced a 5K. It just never seemed LONG enough - like why bother getting all dressed up and nervous if you're going to stop after just 20 minutes? - and I have to admit that being told over and over by various RW friends how much a 5K hurts/sucks did nothing to inspire me to sign up for one anytime soon.

However! After Boston I got curious as to how fast I really could run a much, much shorter race. The McMillan running calculator said "18:17", which seemed VERY fast to me, and now I was definitely interested to see what I could do. So I signed up for the Mother's Day Classic in Canberra. I have run the MDC many years ago in Sydney but it was either an 8K or 10K (I think I ran it in 2001 and 2006) and the second time I was 26 weeks pregnant with my son, so it was hardly a speedy time. 2012 seemed like a good opportunity to improve.

The training
After Boston I took a very, very easy week of mostly no running, and then started following a Pfitzinger Multiple Marathoning plan. My next goal race - the Gold Coast marathon - being just 11 weeks after Boston made things tight, but within 2 weeks I was running over 50mpw again and feeling good.

The week of the 5K I ran my LR on Thursday (18 miles) and then did a mini-taper of 10 and 7 miles the two days leading up to it. I still hit my weekly total of 71 miles but felt relatively rested at the same time.

The travel
Um, considerably less exciting and involved than many of my previous races. The kids and I piled into the Volvo on Saturday afternoon and drove over quite comfortably, with a pit-stop at McDonalds for an early dinner. We stayed at our usual digs and I got them into bed with minimal fuss by 8:30pm, then settled in at 9pm for an early sleep.

Race Day
I wake at 6:30am to the sound of hysterical laughter from the room next door and realise the kids are already up. We all eat raisin toast, I drink a coffee and then it's off to drop them at my wonderful friend Sonia's house to play with their great friends there - and I enjoy the extreme lack of noise in the car on the way to the race. I realise quite suddenly that I'm actually REALLY nervous, much more so than before any marathon, and that seems utterly ridiculous.

It's cold and grey by Lake Burley Griffin when I arrive, but not windy - until I walk down onto the lakeside path to start my warm-up lap in the wake of the 10K runners (who are doing 2 laps of the 5K course). Brrrrrr, down by the lake it's freezing, and the wind is howling out of the southwest, which is fairly normal for Canberra but not exactly optimal for a fast 5K debut.

Lake Burley Griffin, with howling wind blowing right to left 

I run a lazy lap of the course, trying to keep the pace slow. Halfway around I get passed by the male 10K leader on his second lap. It's a BIG struggle not to speed up and go with him, but I resist! Back at the start I shed my jacket and gloves, and head back down to the lake. My imaginary running friend Ewen, who lives in Canberra, shows up and easily recognises me (although we've never met before) close to the starting line. We chat for a bit and then I go back to feeling nervous.

I soon spot two women who look like they might be pretty fast. One is YOUNG - maybe 22 - and the other might be 30, I'm not sure. Anyway, I jump twitchily in place for a bit, then the gun goes off and wheeeeee we're running!

Mile 1 - 6:02 (pace in min/mile)

Right on target and it doesn't feel too hard yet. Immediately the other two are ahead of me and I am in 3rd place. I focus on not going TOO fast yet and the pace feels okay. However, I have forgotten about the tailwind - as soon as we turn up onto the first bridge there's a STRONG cross-breeze. Ooh.

Course map

Mile 2 - 6:20
Ooh turns to urgh. Turning off the bridge takes us along in front of the National Gallery, High Court and National Library. We are right down by the lake and the wind is BRUTAL - freezing cold, 20+mph and right in my face. There is nobody around to draft off. The effort feels similar to the first mile but when my Garmin beeps I look at it and think OH CRAP. That was way too slow. Still, both the women ahead of me are still in sight. If I can hold on one more mile I'll come 3rd.....

Mile 3 - 6:13
The cruel wind stretch is followed by a cruel and steep uphill onto the second bridge. The uphill continues to the crest of the bridge and I suddenly am MUCH closer to 2nd place than before. However the combination of wind and hill has done a number on my head: I've decided that 1) I hate this, and 2) I'm racing for place now, and overall time can go screw itself. I keep it going but I know I won't be catching up to 2nd lady.

Final 0.1 - 5:43 pace
A gentle uphill (noooo) and then a finish chute over grass. I look up to see 19:xx on the clock and am again amazed at how slow I ran compared with the effort I feel I have been putting out. But whatever, I have just finished 3rd in my first 5K! In the excitement of giving my name to the officials who now come over, I forget to press stop on my Garmin. Duh.

19:17 is my official time, just 16 seconds behind the female winner, and 13th place overall.

While I'm talking to Ewen (who has been taking video of the finish) suddenly I hear "Mummy!!!" and two small people are firmly attached to my legs. We hang around for the presentation, I get a nice trophy that is immediately confiscated, and that's that!

I never did get it back yet

The analysis

I might be able to run a 2:58 marathon now, but I'm clearly out of my depth with the 5K. I have no idea how it's supposed to feel and I've done almost zero speedwork specific to this distance in the past, um, 12 years? Sure, 19:17 is a good time, but I suspect I'm capable of better. I don't think 19:17 would have gotten me 3rd place in many 5K races.

The main problem is that I'm still very much focused on marathon training right now - and I don't know when that is going to end. However, I am sure of one thing: I NEED TO DO BETTER! So more 5Ks are most definitely in my future.....stay tuned.

Boston Marathon, April 2012

Three years ago I don’t think I knew the first thing about the Boston Marathon. After I ran NYC in 2010 that all changed, because I had run myself a qualifying time for Boston 2012, and of course that meant I had to enter, right?

I bettered that time in April 2011 (Canberra, 3:12) and again in December 2011 (CIM, 3:05), so I was given a number in Wave 1, corral 5.

The training

Over summer the MRT Holiday Mileage Challenge, although a total debacle in many ways, taught me a lot about myself as a runner. I always used to think I could not do high mileage (over 60 miles/100km per week) or doubles, I’d be sure to get injured, but there I was running 190 miles in 10 days and feeling totally fine. So for Boston I ended up doing Pfitzinger 12/85 but adding miles to top out at 92mpw with a weekly average of 82mpw pre-taper.

The travel

How considerate of the BAA to put their marathon right in the middle of my son’s school holidays! We headed out a week early to Florida and Disneyworld, where I walked around way too much and put my feet in constant peril at the water parks for two whole days, but had a ton of fun as well.

Then we moved the whole circus to Boston and watched the weather forecast for Patriot’s Day steadily worsen until it was actually going to be hotter than it had been in Florida. I started to get warning emails from the race medical directors, including one that said everyone but the elites should just do it as a fun run, NOT A RACE.

Well, bugger that, I thought. That’s not my style – but just about everyone I met up with during the weekend was telling me they were doing exactly that. Many were already talking about a new goal marathon in a few weeks, and running Boston as just another long run. But in Australia I don’t really have that option, so I stuck to my guns: I was going to run the best I could on the day and in the conditions, whatever they turned out to be.

I did my own version of carb-loading the day before, and bought myself a new (very skimpy) race outfit to make up for the fact that this race was probably going to be a total debacle.

 

Picking up my bib at the most crowded expo EVER

Race Day

Overnight I wake up at 2:30, 3:30 and finally 4:30am for good. I walk to Boston Common, chewing on a bagel and drinking some Gatorade, where I meet up and ride the buses to Athlete’s Village with a group of RW buddies. At 6am it’s already warm.

We hook up with some others under the tent and although it’s a nice temperature there, outside the sun has started to bake. I spend 10 minutes waiting in line to get this photo taken,

and walk back to the tent thinking “hmm, maybe 3:15 is the way to go after all"..... but I keep my 2:59:30 pace band on anyway.

Walking to the corrals, people around me are visibly sweating already. I’m carrying the Gatorade bottle I bought with me and sipping on water, but I ditch it after a brief debate with myself about whether I should keep it for the first few miles. In corral 5 I stand unobtrusively in the shade of an enormously tall guy (he has to be at least 6’4”) and try not to get too hot. Finally the gun goes off, we shuffle forwards for a bit and then YAY! we are running the Boston Marathon!

Miles 1-2: 6:50, 6:47
Downhill. Woo! It’s hot but plenty of shade. The crowd is thick but I’m on pace, which is a bit of a surprise since I feel fine. Mile 2 is still downhill but WOW, it’s hot. Is that a drink station up ahead? I’m actually already thirsty. I grab a cup of water and power onwards.

Miles 3-4:  6:44, 6:38

Rather than just drinking, I start dumping water on myself at the water stations now. Checking my Garmin it seems I am going a bit too fast, and I wonder if I’ll pay for that later. I pass Tony (one of the 3:20 gang from Runners World) and we exchange complaints about the weather, then I press on.

Miles 5-6: 6:46, 6:42

Ewww. My shoes are squelching from all the water I’m pouring over myself. It’s working, though: I’m neither uncomfortably hot nor thirsty. I can’t say the same for the guy dressed as Minnie Mouse (complete with ears) whom I pass at this point. I high-five a few little kids as I pass and hope that I’m going to still feel this good in another 15 miles or so.

Miles 7-8: 6:43, 6:49

The crowd support starts to impact on me: it’s totally incredible. Everywhere there are people holding out cups of water, passing out handfuls of ice, freezie pops, slices of orange – there is no way I’m every going to want for anything during this race.

I catch up to another RW friend, Zab, who coined the term “BOTT goal” – it stands for Balls On The Table, an aggressive race goal that is borderline insane but also possible if everything aligns. He tells me he’s pulling back from his original goal of sub-3; I think hard about doing the same, but then tell him “Well, my balls are still on the table”. He laughs and says “Go for it!”, and in that second I realise yep, I’m going to do exactly that.

Miles 9-10: 6:46, 6:48

Running over the timing mat at 10 miles, I know there are quite a lot of people at home tracking me, and I imagine at this point that many of them are yelling at the screen, telling me I’m going WAY too fast and why the heck haven’t I slowed down like everyone else? By now I’m 45 seconds ahead of my pace band so that’s sub-2:59 pace. I can almost hear them cursing my stupidity, and I have a bit of a semi-hysterical giggle to myself. Onward!

Not drowning, waving....

Miles 11-12: 6:49, 6:36

At the start of mile 12 I hear a strange noise that sounds like fingernails on a chalkboard. I realise the Wellesley scream tunnel is approaching….and sure enough, there they are, a mile-long line of shrieking girls holding signs saying “Kiss me, I’m ____”. By halfway I’m almost deaf in my right ear and I’m running right in the middle of the road so as not to get grabbed and kissed by an overzealous freshman. Trying to get past them earns me one of my fastest miles in the race.

Miles 13-14: 6:40, 6:35

Through halfway in 1:28:45 and feeling okay. I’m still dumping water all over myself at every opportunity and passing people in a steady stream. I accept a handful of ice from a kind woman and shove half down the front of my bra, half down the back. Aahhhh, feels good. I run by a store with a temperature display out the front: 85F. That’s 29.4C for us metric folks – I really wish they would have turned it off because it’s not something I need to know at this point.

Miles 15-16: 6:45, 6:36

The Newton Hills are approaching, but there’s a nice downhill first. A wonderful little boy by the road gives me a full bottle of icy cold water and it cools me down very nicely for the upcoming challenge. I carry it for at least 2 miles, taking small sips and then pouring most of it on my head. I look like I’ve just had a shower, but I’m still not too hot, which is a bloody miracle at this point.

           Wet, wet, wet. And concentrating really, really hard.

Miles 17-18: 6:56, 6:56

The first uphill comes and goes without my really noticing – was that really a Newton Hill? Mildly surprised, but the worst is yet to come, so I’m not counting my chickens yet. I grab some freezie pops from another small boy and stick them in my top. This is kind of gross but also very effective at cooling me down, so whatever.

Miles 19-20: 6:40, 6:47

In there somewhere is another uphill but it’s not too bad, and then the one I’ve been told is the worst. Somehow I get through it on pace, though, and then there’s only Heartbreak Hill to go. My pace band tells me I’m almost a minute ahead now. I start seeing people with bibs that have an M or F before the number, but I’m too busy concentrating on running to realise what this means.

Miles 21-22: 6:59, 6:47

At the top of the hill there’s a sign that says “The Heartbreak is Over!” and someone yells “All downhill from here!” but there’s another small incline right after that, which gets me feeling rather annoyed. I decide to stop checking both Garmin and pace band, and just run as hard as I can.

Miles 23-24: 6:45, 6:48

By now the crowds are doing LOTS of yelling but very little handing-out-ice-or-water. It’s all self-service now, and we are running in full sun. There are more people walking than before and I’m starting to get hot and mighty pissed off that of all days for a record high temperature in Boston, it had to be THIS freaking day. Add that to the minor sprained ankle I got at Disney last week and the massive bruise I have on my left hip after slipping over by the hotel pool on Friday, and you’d think the universe is trying to tell me something. But it’s too late to give up, really, so I just keep going.

Mile 25: 6:53

My family see me during this mile but I’m not seeing much of anything other than the road right in front of me. I toy with the idea of “assassin mode” – picking off and passing runners ahead – but actually I’m passing people in droves now and I can’t concentrate anyway, so forget that. Just keep running.

Mile 26, final 0.2: 6:17, 5:43 to end

Maybe I do have a bit of a kick left! Turning right onto Hereford and left onto Boylston is one of the most exciting things I’ve ever done as a runner, and I briefly feel very emotional, but I pull it back together when I realise how FAR away that bloody finish line is.

                              Wait, what?? How can it possibly be that far away still? Nooooooo

And the clock is ticking over towards 3:01 – I can no longer remember how much time it took me to get over the start line, maybe 90 seconds? – so I put my head down and run as hard as I can.

I hit my Garmin right after the finish mat and there it is: 2:58:14! OH MY GOD!!

Walking through the finish area seems to take forever, although after a single small wobble as I stopped running, I'm totally fine. Quite a few other runners come over to congratulate and compliment me on my run, and they all have either seeded bibs or numbers below 1000. I don’t even remember running past many of them, but I congratulate them back and go to get my bag.

Most hard-earned finisher's medal ever

The Analysis

Placement: 22^nd female, 5^th in AG (40-44) and 454^th overall.

I'm not entirely sure how to explain how I pulled this one off. 80+ mpw certainly has something to do with it, as does the fact that I am small and small bodies dissipate heat better than larger ones. Having just trained through summer probably also helped, although it was a ridiculously cool summer and at any rate it's never 85F at 5am when I am usually out running. But pull it off I did, and I'm stunned, excited and really proud of myself all at the same time.

People tell me I should have been able to run 2:50 in colder weather, but I disagree. I was never targeting that sort of pace - however  in better conditions I certainly might have been able to speed up a whole lot more after Heartbreak Hill. That might have gotten me 1-2 minutes, but I guess we'll never know.

Next up: Gold Coast Airport marathon on July 1. I can get a seeded start based on my Boston performance (someone pinch me! Is this real??) so I'm really excited and also already nervous to experience something like that for the first time in my life.