Boston to Big Sur, April 2015 - part 1

Ah, Boston. The Granddaddy of all marathons, it holds a special place in the hearts of runners all over the world, and mine is no exception. For me, so much has happened in Boston: it has been the scene of 3 marathon PRs, my first real "elite" running experience and also a tragedy that shocked the world in 2013. Last year's return was a triumphant one and a truly wonderful experience; there was never any doubt that I would return for 2015.

On a whim I also decided that 2015 would be a great year to attempt the Boston 2 BigSur challenge: 2 marathons, 2 coasts, 6 days apart. This is the sort of thing that seems like a wonderful idea at the time when you sign up for it, and remains like that until the day after the first marathon, when you roll over and try to get out of bed. But more about that later.

The Training
Well, yes. I wrote in my last post about life getting in the way of training, and the same was true for Boston. But for the best of reasons - in February my usual running schedule was very much interrupted when I travelled to Las Vegas to join and marry my soulmate, Joel - and the worst, when he subsequently came down with pneumonia on our honeymoon in the Grand Canyon!

Awww.

Snow? In Arizona??

All interruptions aside, I did manage to put in some decent weeks of training in March and early April, in particular focusing on back-to-back long runs on the weekend of 17-21 miles each. I headed off to Boston with mixed feelings about my capabilities, knowing that a PR (sub-2:47:57) was very unlikely, but hoping that I'd be able to put in a decent showing at both Boston and Big Sur in any case.


The lead-up: Boston
As ever, it's amazing to be back in Boston and part of the festival atmosphere that envelops the city during marathon weekend. In the spirit of raceaholics everywhere, Joel has signed us up for the BAA 5K and we run it Saturday morning in the most perfect of race-day conditions: 10C/50F and clear with no wind. This contrasts sharply with the forecast for Monday, which calls for similar temperatures but also rain and - worse still - a moderately strong headwind. Pretty much a repeat of New York last November but also wet; how lovely.

So it's perhaps the idea of having at least a few miles of racing in good weather that is topmost in my mind when the gun goes off, because our plan of gradually accelerating towards MP is immediately scuttled when I notice females in front of me (this will not do!) and take off like a maniac. Oops.

Joel commentates on the pace as the miles click by in 7:01, 6:30, 6:20 and then the final stretch at 6:05 pace....we cross hand-in-hand for a finish time of 20:43. Much faster than anticipated and in fact good enough for 6th in my AG and 88th woman of over 5000! Ok, that was rather silly, but also rather fun.

Wheee!

The rest of the weekend passes in a blur of socialising, beer and various other forms of carbohydrate. To my horror, on Sunday morning an email arrives with a weather alert: the second of these I've had for Boston and the complete opposite of the first - it confirms what we already know, which is that Monday is going to be a freezing debacle. Nevertheless, the Elite briefing later in the day is exciting as usual; even more so that I now have a few friends there. Afterwards I sit chatting with my NYC friend Paula while Neil and Joel mob last year's winner, Meb Keflezighi, and pose for pictures with one of running's coolest dudes ever.

Race Day: Boston
Grey skies and a moderately strong wind greet us as we step outside to jog the mile or so to our respective buses; at the Fairmont Copley I quickly locate both Paula and Neil and we hop onto the coach that will take us to the Korean Church at Hopkinton. It's lovely to have company on the bus - for the first time in the 3 years I've taken this ride - and the time passes quicker than usual. Inside the church we quickly head upstairs; I know from experience it will be much warmer up there, and we settle in to one of the rooms to wait for the start.

Around 9am it starts raining outside - at this point I'm pretty much resigned to my fate, which is that today is going to be a nastier repeat of NYC. Benita and I have already talked about goals for the day and decided that 2:50 is no longer a realistic option; instead, we settle on a time around 2:55 and secretly I'm actually thinking that just breaking 3 hours (which I failed to do in NYC) will be enough for me today.

It doesn't matter though, because no Patriot's Day would be complete for me without a Meb Moment, and it happens when I decide to head downstairs to check just how horrible the weather is outside. I spy him in a side room and I can't resist: I poke my head in and wish him luck for the race. "You won't remember this," I add, "but I was the girl SCREAMING her head off when you passed me at mile 19 last year. I hope I get to do that again today!" Meb's whole face breaks into an enormous grin and he says "Aw, give me a hug!" I happily oblige, we again wish each other a great race, and I head downstairs with my day already made.

Outside it is indeed drizzly and cold; I jog around for a few unenthusiastic minutes and then head back inside to get changed. I decide on an outfit that replicates what worked for me in NYC, but at the last minute pull off my beanie and stuff it into my bag. Nobody else has a hat on and I don't want to risk jettisoning what is in fact my favourite running hat. The super-elites are called by name and before I know it I'm back up at my favourite starting line once again.

I'm so busy taking it all in - after all, 2015 is likely to be my last year running Boston as an elite - and smiling for the cameras that I completely forget to start my Garmin. I realise just as the announcer calls out "30 seconds!" and so it happens that my 4th Boston Marathon starts with me hyperventilating and frantically swiping at the face of my watch to get it to start. Certainly a change from previous years, and one that I'm not likely to easily forget!

2nd from left, with thought bubble: "Oh you IDIOT!"

Miles 1-6: ?6:20, 6:28, 6:23, 6:33, 6:31, 6:11 (pace in min/mile)
The GPS satellites usually take a few minutes to load, so I spend the first 10 seconds of the race wondering if I should wait for that or start my stopwatch regardless, before deciding to just start the timer and not worry about it any further. So I have no real idea what my pace is this first mile, but it feels okay and I just go with it.

The good news is that a small pack seems to have formed around me by mile 3; this will be very useful if it continues, a sharp contrast to New York and my expectations of today. Paula is in there somewhere amongst the group of 9 women running together; there is a tall girl right up front and I'm unashamedly sheltering behind her when the wind starts to really pick up around mile 5, bringing on painful memories of NYC once again. One part of my brain feels guilty over this but another is yelling "Are you kidding me? You deserve this!" so I tuck in and try to ignore my conscience. We will see just how long this lasts.


Miles 7-12: 6:33, 6:36, 6:24, 6:31, 6:36, 6:25
The tall girl - whose name will turn out to be Christine - is doing an amazing job of breaking the headwind for those behind her, and I'm still taking major advantage of this at mile 9 when she suddenly suggests "Why don't we take turns?" Immediately I agree and pull out ahead of her - she's done a lot of the work so far and my guilty conscience can only take so much, really.

As I pass Christine mutters "I'm trying to stay around 6:30", which is very convenient because that's what I'm trying to do too. Keeping on pace is going to require a lot of concentration, though: the wind buffets me relentlessly as I lead with another girl beside me, and it's very nice to fall back again into the shelter of the group when mile 10 starts.

We continue to switch positions mile by mile up to and then through the hellish cacophony of the Wellesley Scream Tunnel; by the end of it my right ear is deaf and the runner next to me remarks that she has a headache. So do I! Christine has started to pull ahead now so I am less sheltered than before; the group is inevitably starting to disintegrate. The wind picks up again as we emerge from the shelter of the trees and head towards the half-way mark.


Miles 13-18: 6:26, 6:36, 6:38, 6:24, 6:39, 6:48
Through halfway in 1:25:28, I know today's race is going to be far from a PR. All will hinge on how well I can hold things together through the Newton Hills and then onward to Boylston Street. By mile 14 my nice little group of runners has spread out completely; Paula is still with me as we head into the hills and there's another girl with us but nobody is close enough to affect the wind, which is gusting like crazy now. Mile 15 is where the heavens open and the rain finally catches us - as if things weren't bad enough - thankfully it isn't too heavy. Yet.

There are not enough swear words in my vocabulary to do this weather justice.

But by mile 16 the rain has petered out.......just in time for the first of the hills. This charming combination of weather and terrain brings an inevitable slow-down, but I don't care, I just want to be done. It's gratifying that I manage to get back to a decent pace by mile 17, but the worst is yet to come.

The 18 mile marker is barely behind me when suddenly I hear helicopters, then a bike spotter appears next to me yelling at me to stay right. Already? The men are catching me ALREADY?? I guess it's possible - I'm at least 5-6 minutes behind last year and who knows what pace they are on - but still, it seems a lot earlier than usual. Sigh.

What happens next could not be more different to 2014: an enormous pack of no less than 11 elite men rushes past, among them both Meb and Dathan Ritzenhein. I'm too surprised to remember to cheer, and then they are gone anyway. Oh well! The rain starts up again almost immediately, I'm completely reabsorbed in the misery of this bloody race, and the men are forgotten.

Rain? Just what I needed, thanks.

Miles 19-24: 6:39, 6:57, 7:15, 6:43, 6:54, 6:40
It rains the WHOLE way up Heartbreak Hill, and I watch both Paula and another runner who has been near me until now pull ahead slightly. My first mile slower than 7:00 beeps on my Garmin; whatever, I'm done, this is just completely unfair and ridiculous. What did I do to deserve this sort of weather in two consecutive marathons? Did I run over the Weather God's cat or something?

I could look at my watch and make myself try harder at this point but I just can't be bothered. I can't say I'm actively hating the race at this point - it's pretty hard to imagine hating anything about Boston, even when it's treating me like this - but I'm certainly not expending any energy trying to look good for the photographers. Mostly I'm just looking forward to getting out of the weather; I'm not cold but I'm definitely feeling very windblown.

Mile 23: stick a fork in me, I'm done.

Miles 25-26.2: 6:54, 7:13, 6:24 (final 0.2)
It has to be said that the crowd are still absolutely awesome, even despite the weather. In New York it seemed most of the usual spectators must have been blown away, but here in Boston they are still out in force and screaming their lungs out. This comes in handy over the final miles: more than once as I lumber down through Highline towards the welcome sight of Hereford and then Boylston streets, I make use of their energy by raising my hands and encouraging the crowd to cheer. They respond by trebling (at least) in volume - from deafening to completely unbelievable - and it brings a smile to my face that otherwise has been mostly absent today.

Trying to smile, and almost succeeding!

The sight of the finish line - as always SO far down Boylston St - is a very welcome one, more so this year than any other in fact. I have enough left in me to speed up towards it and reach a reasonable pace before at last I'm allowed to stop; Paula has finished just 29 seconds ahead and we walk together towards the elite recovery tent.


Finish time: 2:55:22 (6:41 pace)

Placement: 82nd female, 5th in AG (F45-49).


I'm only inside for a few minutes when there's a tap on my shoulder and I look around to see Neil grinning like a Cheshire cat - he has finished in just 2:30:03, an incredible performance especially in these conditions! Seconds later we hear noise from outside the tent and look out to see rain pouring down in sheets: we thought we had it bad, but the poor souls still outside are going to be in far worse shape. It's a huge relief to be able to change into warm, dry clothes, and I check my phone to see where Joel is.

It looks like he's on track to run 3:06, which he does, and the tracker on the BAA app enables me to spend just a few minutes shivering by the finish area waiting for him. A volunteer asks me if I'm okay - I say yes and explain that I'm waiting for my husband - and then asks me to move a little to the side. Why? Because she has a train of wheelchairs coming through heading for the med tent, each bearing a blue-lipped, shaking, hypothermic runner. These are the people finishing in 3:05-3:10 - how much worse are things going to be in an hour when the bulk of the finishers are going to be coming through?? I remark that I wish I could smuggle Joel into the elite tent, and when the volunteer replies "I won't stop you!" my mind is made up - he's coming inside with me, no doubt about it.

Elite tent awesomeness.

Analysis
Once again, the weather has done a number on my race, but somehow I'm still pretty happy with how I ran. I took a full 5 minutes off my New York time and finished 5 minutes closer to Paula than I did there, so that can't be insignificant. In retrospect it will turn out that many of the elite women were around 5 minutes off their expected finish times, so I'm satisfied that I did the best I could under the conditions of the day. It remains to be seen what will happen at Big Sur, but for the next few days the focus is going to be very much on recovery. In the form of rest, foam rolling, and beer. Not necessarily in that order, of course.

Stay tuned for part 2, coming soon!

Riverina Rush HM, Narrandera March 2015

It's a rare thing indeed to find a half-marathon within coo-ee of where I live in beautiful Wagga Wagga, so when this race appeared on the radar I was instantly keen to attend. Adding to my enthusiasm was the fact that the timing was also very good: exactly 5 weeks out from my next big race, the Boston marathon in April. I was a little concerned about the start time of 9:30am, which would likely make things rather uncomfortably hot by the finish, but on the bright side this also meant there would be plenty of time to drive over the the morning rather than having to stay somewhere overnight.


The Training
Ah yes, the training. To be very honest, life had gotten somewhat in the way of running for me in the 2 months leading up to this race, and I found myself with a much less consistent background of decent training than I'd usually have at this point in the Boston lead-up. Instead of multiple weeks over 100 miles I'd had exactly one of those since the beginning of January; surprisingly however I was pretty unconcerned at this state of affairs.

My goal, therefore, for the race at Narrandera was to run a decent workout at or slightly faster than goal pace for Boston (6:30 min/mile or 4:02 min/km), and not really worry about trying to run a PR or anything of that sort. Coach B provided me with this plan and it seemed like a good one; there's also the matter of advancing age on my part, although we might just not mention that too often if that's alright with you.


Race Day
It's an easy and relaxing drive to Narrandera, just over an hour to the west - if we were to keep on driving we'd eventually end up in Adelaide, although probably 9 or 10 hours later. Mum and I get up early to eat a modest breakfast of raisin toast and coffee, then we set off. We arrive at the Lake Talbot swimming complex with almost an hour to spare, which is enough time for me to get changed, get my "bib" number (see below) and run a nice gentle 2 mile warm-up.

A portion of the pool complex, complete with gnarly slide - how steep is that thing?!?

Oops, did I just accidentally enter a triathlon?

I'm deliberately back by 9:15am but Mum tells me the pre-race briefing has already finished, so unfortunately I have missed hearing any specific advice about the course. Down at the start line, though, I hear one guy briefing another on where to turn, so I listen in and end up chatting to them both while we wait for the start. One looks fast - his name is Sam - and he imparts the unexpected news that we'll be running entirely on trails..... and in some places that will mean on sand.

Wow, time for an attitude adjustment! I really really need to stop expecting to be racing on the roads in these regional areas, and start expecting gnarly trails every single time. The RD makes an announcement that mentions mud, fences and electrocution (he's joking, although I do wonder briefly if this is Tough Mudder in disguise) and everyone laughs, but the HM has us doing 2 laps of the course and there's a good chance my sleek ASICS racing flats are not going to like any of it very much. Sam and I joke about getting lost out there: he has no sense of direction and apparently gets lost on the way to work, which sends a prescient pang of anxiety through me. I can only hope that there are enough runners around me that I can follow someone, although I did look at the course map briefly after we arrived, so hopefully my photographic memory will keep me on track.


Miles 1-3: 6:28, 6:34, 6:27
Off we go! A number of young boys take off like a pack of rabbits and I know well enough by now to steer clear of them, anticipating the inevitable slow-down-suddenly-block-entire-path manoeuvre that I've seen more times than I'd like in past races. Sam is cruising along at a good clip so I tuck in right behind him, but as we cross a small bridge and turn left, there's a sandy patch and whoops, he almost goes down. As he recovers I look at my watch: 5:37 min/mile pace so far, WAY too fast for me, so I pull it back and let him go.

We head into the bush on a well-defined but by turns sandy and rocky path. My usual half-marathon pace is going to be impossible, but if I can keep it close to marathon pace for Boston - and keep the effort level appropriate - today will be a good marathon-specific workout. The first few miles splits are promising (despite the terrain) and ahead of me now are only 5 people, all male and 3 of them quite young.

Then at the first water table all the young ones peel off to the right to follow the 5K course, leaving Sam perhaps a quarter of a mile ahead, and beyond him a guy in a "Feral Joggers Griffith" singlet; the lead bike is just in front of him. I know both of them are running the HM - can it possibly be that there are no 10K competitors at all ahead of me? That really makes no sense, but it looks to be true.


Miles 4-6: 6:45, 6:32, 6:31
I'm far too busy not tripping over rocks and tree roots to notice my 5K split. During mile 4 there's another drink station and fork in the path just where a fence line appears; from what I overheard at the start I know to turn left and follow the fence as the course loops back towards Narrandera. I'm starting to feel the effects of the terrain, plus there's a bit of a headwind and the lovely shade of the koala reserve we have just run through (no I didn't see any) is gone. It's full sun and probably around 27C/80F now, ugh, and the surface is full of big cracks too. Strangely enough I can't see Sam's blue singlet ahead of me anymore - I wonder vaguely if he's put on a big burst of speed and opened a huge gap on me - but the course demands my full attention and the thought quickly leaves my mind.

The path dips steeply down into what appears to be a dry creek bed, then back up onto a levee bank where there's yet another water table. Taken aback by the sudden incline, I decide abruptly to stop and drink a cup rather than try to keep running full-tilt and end up either wearing or choking on it. I lose maybe 10 seconds in the process, but I'm fairly sure there is nobody at all behind me for quite a long way, so whatever.

The view across Lake Talbot to the levee bank where I'm now running

Refreshed, I set off along the bank again - there is a channel and part of Lake Talbot to my right (see image above), and it's quite picturesque. Up ahead I see Feral Guy's white singlet, somewhat closer than before, but where oh where is Sam?? He's definitely disappeared.

At this point I'm beginning to lose mental focus, so I start playing the game that I invented to keep my (ridiculously fast) cadence up when I'm running speedwork: I count my footfalls in batches of four and work my way up to 60. At top speed that would equal roughly a minute, since I can easily clock 240 in that time. I know if I start daydreaming now or singing to myself (the Pet Shop Boys song "Pandemonium" is stuck in my head and liable to pop up at moments like this) then I'll instantly slow down. No, I need to stay focused. So I count and I count and I count -- as the distant umbrellas of the pool complex draw closer and closer and closer.

Miles 7-9: 6:36, 6:43, 6:42
The course loops back to the bridge, does a little out-and-back and then it's off for the second lap. The turn is hilarious: instead of a traffic cone there's an enormous bloke standing there and clearly I'm supposed to run around him......but he sees me coming and starts to get out of the way! I give him a stern look that is meant to convey the message that he needs to STOP RIGHT THERE, and apparently it works (I've been practicing it for years on my kids, after all) because he freezes and I go around - being careful not to slip in the loose gravel - and look up again to see Sam approaching. Phew, he's not lost forever!

The bad news is that he's obviously lost a fair bit of time: he's at least 2 minutes behind me now. I yell at him "Wrong turn??" and he replies "Yeah, massive" - poor guy! He looks strong but really pissed off; my goal for the next lap is going to be NOT getting caught by Sam, although he totally deserves to come 2nd. Heck, he probably should have been in the lead by now, because Feral Guy is not that far ahead.

Running alone through the bush it's harder than the first lap to stay on pace. I take another drink at a station deep in the reserve; the old bloke there exclaims "You're only 300m behind the first guy!" and I'm sufficiently distracted by this knowledge that I almost do a Sam and turn right instead of left at the fence. Oops, nope, I backtrack quickly and hit the stretch with full sun again. The headwind is stronger - I attempt to reframe this as a good thing, because at least it's cooling me down - but nope, I cannot convince myself, sorry. All the mental gymnastics in the world are not going to appease the sensible part of my brain that is yelling "Just slow down already!!" so I give up and again start to count, whereupon the OCD part of my brain rubs its hands together and chuckles insanely. Sigh.


Miles 10-12: 6:50, 6:40, 6:37
I stop again after the creek for a cup of water, and lose another 10 seconds. By now I'm hot, dusty and getting fed up. Can I really be bothered with this? I remind myself that keeping focus while running alone is very important training for Boston, and after the mile 10 split (my slowest of the race) I give myself a shake and again zero in on my cadence. Speed it up, keep it there -- it works to some extent and again I'm back down closer to goal pace. The sun is beating down relentlessly and I think with some disbelief of the very real possibility of snow still being on the ground in 5 weeks' time in Boston - could this race be any more different?

Back at the bridge we now have to do another short out-and-back, and Feral Guy is fading fast, but possibly not enough for me to catch him. At the turnaround (this time a traffic cone rather than a tubby bystander) I estimate there's maybe 60-70 seconds separating us, and it's very unlikely I can make that up. But I charge on regardless.....


Mile 13 - final 0.1: 6:27, 6:25 pace to finish
I'm giving it everything I have now and finally I pass through the gates of the Lake Talbot Swimming Complex once again. The entry way where we started is totally empty, and I have no idea where the finish line is. I debate briefly whether to take the high road on the left or the lower one on the right before deciding just to stay left and head up to the place where registration took place - until about 10 seconds later, when I hear people yelling at me from near the fence: I'm going the wrong way!

Frustrated, I stop dead, mutter something unprintable and then bellow "WHERE DO I GO??" In reply they're yelling sort of incoherently, but I get the idea I should be on the other side where they are, even though there's still no finish line that I can see. Oh -- they are motioning that I should run through a narrow gate that seems to lead into the pool complex itself. How completely freaking obscure! And why isn't there someone here to show the way, or a sign at least? Aware that I've lost at least 30 seconds in this mix-up, I leg it back down the hill and through the gate. I see Sam coming along the road as I turn, then I'm barrelling towards the finish at last.

Finish line, complete with rather-too-relaxed race officials

Finish time: 1:26:48 (6:36 min/mile pace, 4:06 min/km)

Placement: 2nd overall, 1st female

This has to be the least crowded finish area ever! I grab a bottle of water, complain to anyone who's listening about the lack of directions to the finish line, then sit down in the shade next to Mum. After a while I wonder whether a swim might be nice, but then a small child emerges from the pool wailing "It's freeeeeezing in there!!" and I decide that just getting changed out of my sweaty INKnBURN gear will be enough for me.

A proper podium is just the thing to make up for all the drama

Post-race analysis
I spend some time commiserating with Sam, who turns out to be capable of a 35 minute 10K and therefore should have handily beaten me today. Overall, I'm quite happy with how I managed to perform: I stayed focused and most of the time was only about 10 seconds off the pace I'd been targeting, which seems pretty acceptable in light of the trail surface, which after all is vastly different to running on asphalt. As predicted, the race has turned out to be a good marathon-specific workout in more than one way, and a nice medal and envelope of cash are the icing on the cupcake of a very nice day trip to Narrandera. Bring on Boston, please!

Cadbury Hobart Half-Marathon, January 2015

The cooler climate of Hobart - the capital city of Tasmania, that smallish island to the south of the mainland, the one that is often left off maps of Australia - is probably the only place on the continent that could host a major running event in January (at the height of summer) and get away with it. After the fairly disappointing racing experience in New York, I laid low and sulked for a while before eventually deciding to snap out of it and find a way to redeem myself. The opportunity presented itself quite promptly in the form of the Australian Masters Half-Marathon Championships, to be held in conjunction with the Cadbury Hobart HM.

Note the sponsor: Cadbury, makers of all manner of yummy chocolate and other sweet treats. I'd never really considered a trip to Hobart (too cold) but suddenly it all made sense (chocolate) and I decided to sign up.

mmmm, chocolate

The Training
After NYC I found myself feeling draggy, tired and sore in a few spots; no doubt the mental toil of 26.2 miles in a hurricane-strength headwind also had taken its toll. I refused to even consider doing any speedwork when Benita started trying to work it back into my plan towards the end of November; fortunately she was very understanding  of my reluctance (thanks, B) and so it was mid-December when I finally started putting some effort in. I was also keen to build back my overall weekly mileage once I felt recovered from NYC, managing to clock up 110 miles in the week prior to race week in Hobart. I can't imagine that this made for the most ideal half-marathon prep, but it was certainly adequate.


The Travel
Travelling to Hobart from Wagga is somewhat tricky, but on a solo trip I have no particular reasons to worry about layovers or keeping maniac kids occupied, so it's going to be smooth sailing no matter what, really. I set off very early on Saturday morning and find myself in Tasmania just after lunch - my hilariously quaint accommodations are relatively easy to find (although I have no idea how anybody ever found anything in the era before Google maps) - and there is plenty of time to pick up race bibs, find a nice cafe for lunch, and even to relax and wander about the city centre a bit before it's time to pick up my fast friend Neil (whom I know from RunCamp in June) and head to the Best Western hotel for the official pre-race pasta dinner.

Hobart, heritage-style

At the dinner we don't officially know anybody but we land at a table with a bloke who looks very familiar. Turns out I've met him a couple of times at Gold Coast and Melbourne in the elite field - he is looking to run a blisteringly fast time in the HM tomorrow - we chat and scoff pasta before eventually wandering off in search of beer. Again, possibly not the best pre-race preparation, but it's not like I'm going to win tomorrow; Masters, maybe, but overall there is no chance. So beer, because, why not?


Race Day
I should be used to getting up at 4:30am by this point, but it's still just too darn early. Somehow, though,  I'm up and downstairs - where Neil is already waiting - when it's time to leave at 5:10am, and we make the drive to the Cadbury factory without any trouble. The roads are to be closed at 5:45am but we make it there in good time and in fact snag a great parking spot just before a massive influx sees the carpark fill to capacity.

The good news is that it's around 13C/55F out and cloudy, which is essentially perfect running weather. It definitely doesn't feel like the middle of summer, but whatever, it's all about the running today. The marathon starts at 6am, so rather than warm up we hang around and watch the marathoners get started. I usually run 2 miles with some strides before a HM, but somehow we are almost out of time and I'm not sure where to run anyway because the marathoners are busily doing loops on the only available roads.

Eventually we decide to jog on the oval near the carpark, but the grass is wet, my shoes are getting damp and it's all too much bother really. After 1 measly lap we both give up and focus on getting ready for the race. There are almost 700 starters but it's relatively easy to insert ourselves at the very front of the pack - and with very little fanfare other than a mis-firing gun, we are off!

Front row is where it's at...for Clare, me and Neil at least.

Miles 1-3: 6:35, 6:25, 6:26 (pace in min/mile)
The first mile involves a loop around the houses near the Cadbury factory, and it's mostly flat so I'm not surprised that the first 1km sign appears and I glance at my watch to see 3:52 - that's 6:13 min/mile, which is an appropriate HM pace for me. I feel good but Benita told me to take it easy the first 5-10km and I sort of intend to try to live up to that (how's that for commitment?) so I deliberately ease back on the pace and am rewarded with a first mile split that is my slowest of the whole race.

We head down a nastily steep hill next; coming back up that right at the very end of the race is going to be potentially quite unpleasant. There are two women only ahead of me - Brisbane-based pocket rocket Clare Geraghty, who is most certainly going to win today, and another girl who looks similarly young - but now a 3rd with a blonde ponytail and pink singlet goes charging past me. What?? This will not do!

The next 2 miles undulate more than I was expecting, but I catch Pink Ponytail without too much effort and focus on moving ahead of her. The sun has come out and is unexpectedly bright, but otherwise it's a perfect day and pace-wise I'm even doing what I was told for once. Excellent!

Grinning widely, probably because Pink Ponytail is behind me again

Miles 4-6: 6:16, 6:19, 6:29
Wow, already I am catching the slower marathoners and the course is gradually getting more crowded. Without realising I speed up a touch - I'm not checking my Garmin, deliberately, and am running mostly by feel. My goal for the day was to win the Masters championship, and success in that regard is virtually assured, but I still want to run a good race. That hill we just came down is on my mind, but I need to forget about it for a few miles at least.

A small group of guys powers past me at this point; among them are 2 men who are clearly in the Masters race. I wonder briefly if I'll see them again. The course turns off the main highway and winds its way through parklands right by the Derwent river - I'm distracted by the beauty of it all - and then suddenly there is a rather sizeable hill looming in front of me. Isn't this course supposed to be "fast and flat"?? Not for the first time I'm reminded that a course promoter's idea of fast and flat may not correspond entirely with my own.

I'm distracted also by the sight of the lead marathoners already powering down the other side of the road on their way back for a second lap of the course. This adds a degree of complexity to the race: not only do I have to make my way round an increasing number of slow marathoners on the left, I have to avoid an increasing stream of marathoners, and soon also there will be half-marathoners, coming back the other way. Passing through a water station is sheer chaos with people dodging all over the road; I'm certainly thankful I don't need to drink at this point.

Remarkably symmetrical out-and-back course

Miles 7-9: 6:22, 6:16, 6:06
Getting up onto the bridge is not really much fun, but things flatten out once I'm up there and it's actually not too bad. I catch back up to the group of men that passed me before, and almost at the same time Neil zooms past on the other side of the bridge. One of my goals for today is to finish within 10 minutes of his time but right now it's not looking all that good. I yell and wave - he's in 4th overall - but he's gone in an instant and I go back to concentrating on the race at hand.

Now I'm watching the other side of the road for the 2nd female (who has her name on her bib - it's Ruth) and am quite surprised that I haven't seen her yet - Clare has already gone past. Finally I see her, and glance at my watch in an effort to gauge just how big the gap is between us. To my surprise it will turn out to be less than a minute. It's unlikely that I'll be able to speed up enough to catch her....but perhaps if she really slows down I might?

Somewhat enthused, I zoom around the turning point and head back to the bridge. But what is going on now behind me?? Over the past half mile I've gradually become aware of a loud huffing, puffing noise - sort of like a walrus having an asthma attack - and several people have yelled at me "Go Andrew!" which is kind of strange, since I'm pretty sure I don't look like an Andrew. Of course: it's the bloke behind me, who was part of that group of guys but seems to have abandoned them in order to give chase to me.

My 2 fastest miles of the race come courtesy of Andrew - his breathing is really worrying me so I check over my shoulder to see that he's not actually about to collapse - he gasps out "You're setting a good pace!!" to which I reply "Thanks!" and then speed up more. One of my pet hates is being relentlessly tailed by someone making this much noise; I need to get away, and a small incline finally does the job, but only after another full mile of gasping. Phew!

That's not Andrew, it's his much quieter mate John

Miles 10-13: 6:26, 6:22, 6:27, 6:24
Mile 10 has some undulations that take the wind out of my sails a little; I could push harder, but that final monster hill is still ahead and really, what's the point? Well, actually there possibly is a point: I've realised I can now see Ruth, the girl who is in 2nd place, ahead of me at last. She inches a little closer over the next mile but I'm under no delusion that I can catch her, nor do I really fancy potentially blowing myself up trying. I've got both my main objectives for the race already tied up: overall placement and the Masters win. Why risk it now?

So I don't really speed up again, but I don't slow down much either. The hill comes and is not quite as bad as I was expecting, although there is a photographer at the very top to capture the moment - and so later I find out EXACTLY how unimpressed I looked whilst grinding up that incline, and it's not at all pretty (no you may NOT see the photo!).

Finally the finish line is in sight, so I put my head down and run as fast as I can: my Garmin later shows that I managed to dredge up 6:04 pace for the final stretch, which shows I wasn't completely out of gas. And I've managed to get myself on the podium for both the overall AND the Masters race! Hooray!

Finish time: 1:24:08 (6:22 min/mile)

Placement: 3rd female overall, 1st AG (40-44).

For once a proper podium!!

Two of my dinner companions - John and Neil - are standing on the curb stretching as I walk through the finish chute in search of water. They have placed 2nd and 4th overall, respectively, and Neil has not only won the Masters division but has done so in a course record for his age group. Impressive!

We all get enormous baskets of chocolate for our achievements, and I actually get two; this is going to make for an interesting flight home and also two very happy children, who immediately call me on FaceTime to verify the photo I have just sent through of the spoils.

Best. Race. Swag. EVER!

The Analysis 
I may have won a mountain of chocolate, but today was certainly not my fastest half marathon ever. In fact, it was more than 3 minutes slower than my actual PR. Maybe I'm getting old and slow, or just maybe I did what I was told for once and ran a tactically clever race? I did in fact pretty much follow Benita's advice, although not by pure design, I must admit.

In any case, my time was good enough for what I wanted to achieve, so there's no point moaning. And on the bright side, I probably won't have to buy chocolate for a year or possibly more. What's not to love about that?

AIRIA One shoes: test run and review.

Shortly after I published my most recent blog post about the New York marathon, I was contacted by a representative from Airia shoes. They offered me a free pair to try out, asking in return only that I report back and post a review on my blog once I have run in them.

Never one to pass up a freebie, I readily accepted the challenge. When the shoes arrived this morning, I decided to take them for an easy evening double (just 5 miles/8km) and write the whole thing up in my usual race report manner.


The Background
Airia are a Swedish company that have apparently been around since 1992. That's news to me - prior to being contacted I had never heard of Airia shoes and I doubt I had even seen a pair on anyone, anywhere. But according to the box that the shoe came in, they've been around for more than 20 years now, developing this exact shoe. What on earth took them so long?

Ah, this must be it. The first thing that jumps out when I look on their website is the somewhat audacious-sounding claim that Airia One shoes can make you run up to 7% faster. If my math is correct (which it often is not), that would turn a 2:47 marathon into a 2:35 - something that hardly seems plausible. Such an improvement for me (and my current marathon PR is indeed 2:47:57) would catapult me straight into the Australian Olympic team for 2016 and have me winning the female Masters division at Boston by at least 4-5 minutes. All this, just from switching shoe brands? I'd almost certainly have a lot of explaining to do, not to mention "random" drug tests, if such a thing was to suddenly happen.

The email from the company quotes two reviews that I might be interested to read; it's a little disquieting to read and subsequently realise that neither of these reviewers has anything very positive to say about the shoes.  I have to wonder if the people marketing the shoes have actually read the reviews - it makes little sense to be linking to negative reviews, but it seems they are anyway.

The other thing that bothers me is the disclaimer that I read on the website and again when I open the box:

So what you're saying is...they're weird and I am not allowed to walk in them? Okay then.

I'm almost scared to venture out the door - for a while I contemplate running on the TM, but I really don't want to do that unless I have to, and the kids are with their father so it's the perfect opportunity to head outside. But what if I get halfway to the lake and am in sudden agony? Something like that happened to me in early 2004, when I was in Adelaide and decided to forsake my usual ASICS for a pair of Nikes, in the misguided belief that new shoes would somehow heal or compensate for the still-held-together-with-titanium right leg that I was dealing with at that point.

After limp-running about 3km along the River Torrens I was struck down by a sharp, severe pain in my right calf, entirely different to the usual leg-still-broken pain that by now I was used to enduring. Forced to walk back to where I had started, I came away with the firm belief that changing shoe brands was a sure-fire path to injury (conveniently forgetting that colliding with cars at 35mph/60kph is also a good way to damage oneself) and an ever-increasing superstition about the Wrong Pair of Shoes.

So it is with great trepidation that I stand at the counter considering my first run wearing Airia One. The name conjures up mental images of aliens and spaceships - I think of Roswell and the X-Files and Area 51 - and the shoes themselves actually look so weird that the whole thing suddenly makes perfect sense. Alien shoes! From Area One! Let's try them on and see just how bizarre things can get.

<mysterious music plays>

The Shoes

Once on, the shoes feel light but also kind of lumpy in the soles. I'm expecting this and it's not as bad as I anticipated - the upward pointing toes also feel slightly odd, but I find I can walk in them without too much difficulty. The soles are softly spongy and really quite comfortable; I don't feel like my gait is being forced into an unnatural pattern, which is good. They do seem a bit more like a prototype rather than a finished running shoe, though - the uppers are quite flimsy and I have to wonder how they would stand up to my usual training mileage.

I grab a spare pair of shoes to drop in my driveway, figuring that if it all goes to pot I can just turn around at the end of the street and come home to change, strap on my Garmin and it's go time.

my regular easy run route

Mile 1: 8:26 pace

Ok, these shoes are not making me run any faster, that's one thing for sure. I set off down the road and the first thing I notice is that the 2nd toe on my right foot is hurting. Despite having quite orderly-looking feet with 2nd toes that are actually shorter than my big toes, I do tend to mangle my 2nd and 3rd toenails regularly during races and they're generally in a dreadful state either purple and hanging in there or purple and hanging off. That said, they've been fine lately so I have no idea why my toe is suddenly protesting - it must be the shoes.

I realise that my toes feel like they're being jammed directly into the ground - the upward tilt of the shoes is putting more pressure than normal on my toes and this makes me very concerned for what would become of my poor abused toenails if I was to subject them to a whole marathon wearing the Airia Ones. Even a half marathon might be a bit risky - let's see how they feel after just 5 miles.

Mile 2: 8:00

By now I'm down by the lake and ooh, there's a rather strong tailwind! It does nothing to speed me up, sadly, but I've run many many miles in the past 7 days and my lack of zip is definitely not the fault of these shoes. The good news is that nothing is really feeling odd or hurting at this point - save for the 2nd toe on my right foot, which is moaning away still - and in fact the shoes are turning out to be quite nice.

One of the reviewers described how their footfalls became very loud, like they were slapping their feet on the ground as they ran, but I'm settling rather quickly into the "silent stride with a rolling feel to it" that is supposed to be the desired effect. Also, my fast cadence actually feels like it is supported by the way the toes of the Airias turn upwards; it's like I'm spending less time or effort toeing off, in fact. Nice!

Mile 3: 8:08

Ugh, the headwind comes into play as I turn around the northern end of the lake and run along the far side. The good news is that my post-NYC phobia about running into a headwind seem to be lessening; the bad news, I'm still running pretty slow. As I plod up the sharp hill behind the Boat Club, I find myself trying to run on my toes and ooh, it feels very unsafe. I can't imagine how these shoes would work for a toe runner (someone who lands on their forefoot and whose heels stay pretty much off the ground when they run) - something tells me they'd be in danger of overbalancing with the upward-tilted toes of the Airias constantly pitching them forwards.

Just a bit further on the path becomes rougher and ooh, ouch, I step on a rock and realise how little padding there is between my forefoot and the ground. My toes are sort of being held up (with the exception of that 2nd one, which is stubbornly headbutting the ground still) but the ball of my foot isn't and I realise quickly that this means the Airia shoes are NOT going to be very suitable for most of the gravelly country roads where I usually train. They seem like a great racing shoe, sure - although I doubt my toes would survive a full marathon in them, or even a half - but not a good trail or even gravel-running shoe.

Mile 4: 8:05

Still not speeding up, oh well. The rolling feel of my gait in these shoes is coming along nicely though - they feel light, and fast, and springy. Lately I've done a fair bit of running in a pair of Hokas that I won earlier in the year and the difference is noticeable: in the Hokas I feel clunky and slow; in the Airias I feel springy and quick (even though I'm running just as slow in them).

Mile 5: 7:53

I try to put in some effort for the final mile home, but my legs are not very interested and I don't manage to speed up very much. That's disappointing but not too surprising; the good thing is that none of my muscles feel like they've been put through anything much different to a normal easy evening run.

I notice the strangeness of the shoes almost as soon as I stop running in them and start walking; I'm not tempted to leave them on at all, really. Despite the zippy feel it's been a slow run overall for me, but none of the expected weirdness has surfaced so I declare the run a success and add the Airias to my pile of running shoes in the corner reserved for "racing".

The Verdict

PROS

* light shoes with a zippy feel

* less effort required at toe-off

* minimalist feel but enough cushioning around heels to be comfortable

* gait pattern seemed quite natural and I didn't think my usual gait was altered by the shoes
* free!

CONS

* not much cushioning around forefoot, very minimal for toe area

* curved toe-box maximises impact on toes - very likely to be a problem for longer distances

* probably not good for the heavier runner (over 160lb/75kg might find them not cushioned enough)

* probably not good for anyone who needs a motion control shoe
* expensive ($190US according the website).

My overall impression is that these shoes have real potential as a shorter-distance racing shoe, but they are quite gimmicky and would be likely to have a limited runner type to whom they would appeal. 

This kind of person would probably be a lot like me and have the following charateristics:

- light (I am 5'3" and weigh 103lbs, which is around 46-47kg)

- neutral (not for over- or under-pronators; these shoes would likely have a negative effect on gait patterns and feel quite unnatural for those used to stability or motion control shoes)

- midfoot or heel strikers (toe runners would probably feel quite unstable)

- accustomed to running in racing flats with little to no cushioning.

My plan is to take the shoes out a couple more times for runs up to 10mi (16km) and provided there are no issues, try them out at the Australian Masters HM Champs in Hobart in January. Who knows, if I can take 7% off my usual HM time (currently around 1:22) and these shoes enable me to run 1:16, I may just buy the company! Or their entire supply of women's size 6.5, whichever works out cheapest.

UPDATE:
In early January I ran 12 miles in the Airia shoes. I finished with a blister on my 2nd toe (the same one that was complaining on the 5 mile run) and subsequently lost the toenail on that toe also. I decided not to wear the Airia One shoes for my HM and haven't run in them again.

New York City Marathon, November 2014

Any excuse to visit New York is a good one, really, and the marathon is the best of all. My very first marathon was New York in 2010 and somehow it made sense to return there at this point in my running career - if for no other reason than to see how much I might be able to improve on the 3:17 I posted on that cold, sunny day.


The Training
My original intention was to run New York more as a fun, destination marathon than a time-goal one, given that it is a notoriously slow/difficult course and that I was also signed up (once again as an elite) to run Melbourne marathon just 3 weeks earlier. But as I have mentioned before, my plans for Melbourne went completely askew when I managed to injure myself for the whole of August, and the very short amount of time left once I was back training somewhat decently meant that New York took on more significance.

And as I have also already mentioned, I was hopeful of a sub-elite start for NYC but instead found myself placed squarely in the professional women's race (oh my god) - and so it came to pass that I headed for New York with a far-from-decent prep but ever-ambitious dreams of actually doing reasonably well (or at least not finishing as the very last female elite) there.

My weekly training mileage in the 2 months leading up to NYC:

39 miles, all easy
62 miles including a 39:08 10K (1st female, 6:18 pace)
77 miles with a 1:24:55 HM (13th female, 6:24 pace)
95 miles, including a marathon-specific 21 mile LR
81 miles, all easy
80 miles including Melbourne marathon in 2:53:35 (10th female, 6:36 pace)
52 miles, all easy
71 miles with a 14 mile LR including 4x2 mile MP intervals.

If you're thinking that there is a dangerous combination of not enough mileage and far too much racing in there, for such an abbreviated training period -- you're probably not alone.


Travel and pre-race festivities
I'm fairly good at the process of international travel now, and the only real hitch is the amount of time it takes me to get from JFK airport to my hotel (close to 3 hours, somehow, I have no idea why), but in any case I manage to arrive unscathed and with all possessions intact. The Hilton is abuzz with runners and many wheelchair athletes as well; after a refreshing night's sleep my first priority on Friday is to head up to the Professional Athletes hospitality suites on the top floor of the hotel.

Here's where NYC totally out-does Boston when it comes to the way it treats professional athletes (like me, ahem) - well, maybe the way it treats also-rans like me, actually. I get a credential declaring me an official professional athlete, a bag full of goodies that cannot be bought at the expo, and access to all the coffee, bagels, Gatorade and Power bars I can handle. Which, come Saturday, will be a LOT.

Credentials and exclusive Elite athlete vest, oh yeah!

While we are there, we manage to find out that a bus is leaving in half an hour to take people to the Expo  - yes! It's cold and grey out, possibly about to rain, and the last thing I want to do is try to figure out how to ride the subway downtown to the Jacob Javitz convention centre where the Expo is held. It's very luxurious to be ushered from our hotel onto a plush bus and then led straight in (bypassing the huge queues) and up to the media conference.

Quickly I realise I don't belong here - it's for the biggest fish in the pond and I am a tiny, baby piece of krill by comparison - but before we leave I take advantage of the opportunity to get a photo with one of my all-time idols, before leaving in total awe of the whole situation:

Paula Radcliffe, female marathon World Record holder!
And so nice as well.

The expo is crowded beyond belief with excited runners and their friends; the line to buy ASICS official merchandise is incredibly long but that doesn't deter me from picking up a few items that I'll be able to wear running at home in, oh, 6 months or so. Wrong season = no problem, for the dedicated runner/shopper at least.

Later on Friday I get an email that is somewhat worrying. It seems I will now be racing my 2nd World Marathon Major where I've received a weather alert in the days leading up to the event: Boston in 2012, when a sudden heatwave struck and prompted organisers to send out an email instructing everyone to give up time goals and just "fun run" it, and now New York 2014. The forecast is ominous - headwinds of 26mph (over 40kph) with gusts up to 40mph (66kph) - and it really has to be bad because this is what I read:

Oh, great.

And the horrible thing is that this forecast - which everyone is hoping will change - remains steadfastly the same for the whole of the next 36 hours. I'm sure there are 50,000 other people out there also checking it obsessively in the way that I am, but none of this can convince the weather gods to change their minds. I didn't let the heat of Boston 2012 sway me from my ambitions - I was one of the very few of my running acquaintance who actually met their goal that day - but Sunday's goal is far loftier, and a strong headwind is something I've never really trained for. Ugh.

I wake on Saturday to find that it's raining - oh well, what better way to fit in a final pre-race workout than to run the Dash to the Finish Line 5K? I do mean run, not race, although it's a perfect example of a progression run that incorporates the 3 minutes of hard running called for with the Aussie carbo loading plan: the mile splits are 7:54, 7:22, 6:36 and 6:15 pace to the finish. Despite the rain it's a lot of fun and after finishing we jog happily home to attack the breakfast buffet with gusto.

Wet but happy.

Later, on my way up to drop off my water bottles I bump into a woman who is wearing the same credentials as me - she tells me she's not sure if she will drop off her bottles, because she is considering dropping back to the general start due to the wind forecast; she's worried about not being able to keep up with the rest of the field.

It turns out she is Canadian and also the other family physician in the professional women's race; her PR (and her age) is very similar to mine and her name is Paula. Wonderful! I tell her most emphatically that she MUST stay in the elite race, because she is likely to run my sort of pace and I desperately need company. We can run together!! And so I leave the hospitality suites with my tinsel-decorated bottles secured and a running companion for the race also locked in - this is a very big deal.

My name is on my bib!! For New York!!

The pre-race briefing and bib pick-up on Saturday afternoon is quite surreal; race director Mary Wittenberg welcomes everyone warmly and I stand in line to get my bib, wedged in between at least 2 or 3 Olympic medalists. Deena Kastor is right ahead of me so I take the opportunity to introduce myself and congratulate her on her recent Masters' World Record in the half-marathon; she's lovely and we chat briefly before it's time to think about going to the pre-race dinner. Across the room Meb Keflezighi is hugging Paula Radcliffe, and they're both at a table with Kara Goucher and Deena. A bunch of Kenyans which contains at least 2 former world record holders (Wilson Kipsang and Geoffrey Mutai) is at another.....and again I'm wondering, how on earth did I get in here??


Race Day
I'm up and getting dressed by 5am and we head downstairs to the elite athletes' breakfast on level 3; all the superstars are there and we land at a table with Desi Linden (who was 2nd in Boston 2011 and will go on to be the fastest American woman today) and her coaches. Everyone is understandably jittery; I'm stressing out somewhat over the way my digestive system seems to respond to jet lag (by seizing up) and so every bite of my bagel and sip of coffee is filled with the anxiety of wondering, will I have to stop during the race because I'm eating this now?

Too much information I know, but I'm still fretting pointlessly over my lack of bathroom action when we walk out to board the bus that will take us to the start. We cross the street and even with the tall buildings all around, it's painfully clear that the wind is positively howling. Plus it's COLD - the temperature is probably around 4C/37F but the windchill is driving it much lower. It's a small consolation that at least Saturday's rain seems to have stopped, but I will later realise that rain would have been preferable to the hurricane that will greet me on the course....

Similar to Boston, we get a police escort that accompanies us on the long drive out to the start, but the traffic is a lot worse than it ever was in Boston. There are extended periods of time where we come to a complete standstill and wait; this isn't such a concern because the last I heard about the elite waiting area on Staten Island is that the tents had to be taken down overnight, lest they blow away in the gale-force winds. So we may be spending a whole lot MORE time on this bus, and it doesn't really matter how soon we get to the official start village.

It's a pleasant surprise, then to arrive and see that the tent is actually standing - they're even putting the walls on it to keep out the howling wind. Inside there are tables with bottles of water, bagels, gatorade, fruit.....I'm pretty stunned to see that a lot of people are still eating. The general race start is 90 minutes away and mine is just an hour off - my stomach certainly wouldn't be able to keep its act together if I was to fill it up now and try to run a tough marathon so soon afterwards.

A quick (and thankfully successful) bathroom visit ensues and pretty soon it's time for the professional women to start making their way up to the starting line. We're allowed to wear extra clothes up there so I keep my sweater and long tights on; it's surreal to be jogging around in the company of some of the world's best marathoners. I see that Deena is wearing the same shoes as me so I dance over to her and say "Hey, we're shoe twins!" - then we're off and walking towards the start area. Up on the bridge it is incredibly cold; I join in with some short strides up and down in front of the starting line, just for the sake of keeping warm.

A large bunch of scantily-clad, freezing-cold athletes.

Miles 1-3: 6:54, 6:24, 6:42 (pace in min/mile)

After all the build-up,the start itself happens with surprisingly little fanfare. We are herded back behind the starting mats, over the loudspeaker Mary says "Ladies take your marks", and then suddenly we are off. I'm on the far left and actually stay with the main pack for about the first 400m - the pace feels reasonable, but the super-elites all accelerate away from me fairly soon and I know better than to try to keep up.

As we head up onto the bridge the true force of the wind makes itself known and my god, it's like nothing I have ever had to deal with before. My bib is whipping in the crosswind, my beanie feels like it's going to blow straight off my head and a few times I get caught by a gust that almost throws me off my feet. Running a decent marathon in this sort of thing is going to be as good as impossible - but I'm here and I have to at least try.

Keeping up, but not for long....

By the end of the first mile - all uphill - I've formed a small pack with Paula and another woman, Josephine - who looks African (although her bio says she's from Italy) and is very tall. As we finally crest the bridge and start bombing down the other side, she says "We run together?", and Paula and I agree. It makes sense to stay together, but to be honest it's going to be difficult. Paula surges ahead to take the lead and when I fall in behind her, I accelerate so quickly that I almost slam straight into her back.

The difference that this drafting makes to my pace is remarkable, but I have to stay super-close or the effect is lost. The last thing I want to do is to keep bumping into her or, worse still, somehow trip her up. If I stay as close as I need to in order to draft, that's almost guaranteed to happen, and it seems pretty unfair to make another runner do most of the work on my behalf.

As I'm considering this I realise that one of the safety pins holding my bib to my chest has blown away, and the whole thing is flapping around even worse than before. Thankfully the gusts settle down a little as we come down from the bridge and now the headwind is blowing it snugly back against me, but I won't be impressed if the whole thing blows off - which is entirely possible.


Miles 4-6: 6:33, 6:39, 6:28

Josephine has disappeared behind us now but Paula and I are still running close together. We're taking it in turns to go ahead and forge a path through the relentless headwind, and already I know that the for the effort I'm putting in, I should be going at least 10-15 seconds per mile faster. Very quickly it is becoming apparent that today's time goals are heading straight out the window - there is just no way I can keep up this level of exertion for another 20+ miles. Check out how hard I'm working in the video below, taken by a spectator in Brooklyn.....

Miles 7-9: 6:39, 6:39, 6:41

Paula now moves ahead and opens up a small gap on me; somehow, somewhat surprisingly, I find myself unwilling to follow. She's not very far ahead, maybe 10 seconds, but she stays there for the next 3 miles as we continue to battle the wind. And really it's getting rather boring now - not only am I dealing with a constant headwind, I'm all alone and the gusts are still coming frequent and strong. Gah, this is awful.

On the other hand, having my name on my bib is turning out to be rather awesome. The crowd is much smaller than I remember it being in 2010 (probably due to the icy blast, perhaps a lot of spectators have actually been blown away) but no less vocal and they are all calling to me by name: cheers of "Rachel! GO Rachel!" and the like are coming thick and fast. I realise this means that anyone whom I actually DO know will have no way of identifying themselves to me, since everyone knows my name now, but still it is very cool. It's making up in some small way for the horror of running headlong into a hurricane, which is essentially what I am trying to do now.


Miles 10-12: 6:41, 6:48, 6:36

I've pretty much decided that 6:40ish is a reasonable pace to aim for; if I can maintain this then I'll still get in well under 3 hours, which is my C goal for the day. The course winds onwards through Brooklyn and into the neighbourhood populated by Hasidic Jews. With so few runners on the course, they are feeling very free to just walk right out and cross the road whenever they like. I almost slam straight into a bloke with the most impressive monobrow that I've ever seen -- I'm sure I look EXTREMELY surprised as I shoot past, thankfully without a collision.

The personal fluid stations have been a huge success so far and because it's so cold, I haven't been bothering to drink at any other water stops. I've managed to take my gels at miles 2 and 8 without any issues, and all I have had to concentrate on is making sure I use both hands to grab my bottle - due to the wind they've been sticky taped to the tables and it does take a bit of effort to get them free. But the water stop at mile 11 is a lot of fun as I pass through; the entire crowd of volunteers, all revved-up but with very little to do at this stage, is chanting as one: "RA-CHEL! RA-CHEL!! RA-CHEL!!"

Despite the relentless battering of the wind, this sort of thing makes me laugh and realise that I'm having fun after all. Up ahead Paula has now moved quite a way ahead of me, but it's interesting to note that she is catching up to not one but TWO other female runners. I wonder if I will be able to do the same?


Miles 13-15: 6:52, 6:50, 7:08

I go through half-way in just on 1:28:00 and realise that sub-3 may yet be slipping away from me: I'm struggling to hold onto a reasonable pace as I fight the wind to get up the second of the bridges, and the notorious Queensboro bridge still lies ahead. For the first time I feel rather annoyed - it's completely unfair that this weather should show up and take away any possible advantage that being in the professional race might have given me. What I wouldn't give to have someone to run behind right now!

These 15 miles have worn me out more than I could have anticipated, and the only consolation is the thought that by mile 21 or so the wind *should* be coming from behind. I just need to get there....focus, don't give up. I'm reminded of my meeting at the expo with Kathrine Switzer, one of the pioneers of women's running, and how she hugged me and told me "Be fearless!". Those words go around in my head and I find new resolve as I make the turn up onto the bridge.

Two marathon women!

Miles 16-18: 7:16, 6:52, 6:52

The steady uphill of the bridge is eerily silent and unpleasantly tough. Despite being on the lower deck of the bridge, the headwind continues unabated; besides the whipping of my half-off bib as the wind again tears at it, all I can hear is the slap-slap of my feet as I make my way ever-upward. There's a water station around half-way; I grab my bottle and quickly take a few sips, then discard it amongst the pile of others. My Garmin loses the satellites and completely freaks out. I can't say I blame it - I've just about had enough of this myself!

But coming down onto First Avenue is just as thrilling as it was 4 years ago. The crowd is large and loud, and they roar even louder when I raise my arms and wave at them. Again I'm grinning and enjoying myself, despite everything, and the vibe carries me onwards. At some point along here is my photographer friend Jason, who takes some photos that he later posts on Facebook for me; I will discover to my amazement that professional athletes apparently don't get official photos from the race, so these ones will turn out to be even more precious. Many thanks to Jason for sharing his photography skills with me once again.

Too exhausted to even look up, sorry folks.

Somewhere between my Garmin going weird at mile 16 and the upcoming events of mile 18/19, I have now completely stopped checking my pace. I don't even look when a mile split beeps; I know I'm going a lot slower than I'd like, but I'm deep in survival mode and there's no real point looking, since there won't be anything I can do about it anyway.

I've been running a long time now but I'm not feeling remotely warm; the best I can say is that with my arm warmers, gloves and a beanie, I'm not actually cold. And the INKnBURN outfit, as always, is attracting a lot of attention - besides my name, the thing I'm hearing most of is "Nice outfit!", "Best outfit of the day!" and similar sentiments. Being dressed in funky gear definitely goes a long way towards making up for the sufferfest that the rest of the day has turned into.


Miles 19-21: 7:02, 7:04, 7:23

As mile 19 starts, finally it happens: the stream of lead vehicles and police motorcycles that precede the male leaders starts to roar past me. Unlike Boston there is no personal bicycle spotter to warn me and keep me safe - and as result I almost get flattened by the photographers' vehicle as it passes by ridiculously close - but whatever, it's still pretty thrilling. Not so thrilling that it has any great effect on my pace, unfortunately.

As they pass me I count 9 in the pack, and Meb is amongst them! I try to yell out to him but the wind is so strong that it drowns me out - well, that and the screaming from the crowd. What a difference to the moment when he passed me during Boston, when he was out in front all by himself.....and if only I had a pack like that to hide in. Sigh.

Me leaving the elite men in the dust. Keep up, boys! Ha ha.

But look at this: the first of the females that I've been chasing for miles now is fast coming into my frame of reference. I know I am slowing down but she must be slowing down more, because come mile 20 I suddenly find myself shooting past her. Good, good, that's 2 female elites that are now behind me! And there is at least one more in sight - perhaps a tiny game of Assassin Mode is on the cards after all. In a schadenfreude sort of way I'm glad to know that others are fading worse than I am; clearly I wasn't the only one badly affected by the headwind.

And hopefully there's some relief now in sight: actually since mile 17 I've been telling myself "Just get to 21 and then it will be a tailwind! It will be EASY!" But I find myself in the Bronx at mile 21 and the wind is most definitely still blowing straight into my face. Onto 5th Avenue at last.....and it's still blowing right at me. Or it swirls around to blow me sideways; there are short periods now where it's behind me but this never lasts for more than 20 or 30 seconds. Ye gods, this is so, SO unfair!!


Miles 22-24: 7:01, 7:07, 7:26

Onward I struggle along 5th Avenue, trying not to count how many blocks I have to pass before I hit Central Park South, trying to keep it going. It's gratifying to know that I have at least one friend with the brains to figure out how to get my attention: around mile 22 I hear "Rachel GLASSON!!!" from the left and look over to see Pam waving and smiling. Probably somewhere in the same mile my friend Ron is yelling and screaming and even running along beside me, all to no avail; should have used my surname, Ron, or perhaps a loudhailer?

The only other good thing about this stretch is that I somehow manage to catch and pass another 2 female elite runners. A few more male elites are passing me, though - Lee Troop burns past me on his way to an impressive 2:25 - still, there's not really anybody around and definitely not anybody to run with. I guess I'm used to it by now.

Then, somewhere just before the sharp right-hand turn into Central Park - and right as I'm practically being blown sideways straight into the Park -  I hear an almighty roar from my right and look over to see 3 of my friends bellowing their lungs out at me: Jim, Yvonne and Tara. Yvonne takes a photo at the exact second that I make a goofy face and wave excitedly; she posts it to Facebook and people enthuse about how I look like I'm still having fun (despite having run 24 miles in gale-force headwinds) but nobody stops to consider that maybe I'm just completely delirious at this point? Because that's definitely another possibility.

My brain cells have all been blown away! Gaaaahhh!!

Miles 25-26.2: 7:03, 6:58, then 6:28 pace to finish

Grinding along through Central Park, the crowds are much smaller than I remember from 2010, but I barely care at this point. All I want is to get to the finish. The lack of support does feel strange, though; as I hit the corner where we turn onto Central Park South, there is abruptly a huge crowd straining at the barriers but they are eerily silent. Suddenly I think to myself, well, this isn't right! I haven't run 25+ miles in a roaring headwind for people to just stare blankly at me - so I look left and right, raise my arms above my head and yell "COME ON!!" They respond with a deafening roar and I'm laughing like a madwoman as I turn and head towards Columbus Circle. I may be losing it here, but that was kind of fun! Next thought: god, that statue is just too far away.

There's a bloke ahead of me though who looks to be in big trouble. He's wearing a bib on his back so he's one of the male elites - he must have passed me earlier. I zip past him, thankful not to be in the same position, and eventually I'm turning back into the park and the finish stretch. I can summon up something of a kick but it's not much to speak of, and finally I'm over the line where I practically fall into Mary Wittenberg's arms. "How was it??" she asks and I gasp out "Bloody windy!!" but I'm okay really, just annoyed that when I looked up at the arch just beyond the finish, it read "Professional Women" with a clock near it that had just ticked over 3:00.

Finish time: 3:00:45, 6:54 pace

Placement: 52nd OA female (25th in professional race), 9th AG.


Post-race
The elite and sub-elite tents are up on a small hill quite near the finish - I refuse the offer of a space blanket and instead allow myself to be escorted up there straightaway so I can get my hands on my warm clothes; they are easily located and someone even brings me a medal. In the professional women's tent I find Paula, who has pushed through to a very impressive 2:56, and we commiserate about the wind as we both strip off and replace sweaty race outfits with warm dry clothing - ahhh.

Two fast doctor chicks. Awesome.

Back at the hotel after showers and a rest, it's time to start the celebrations. I won't go into detail but it involves a great deal of food, alcohol and very little sleep, many old and new friends and a fantastic dinner with some of the other "working elites", including the incredible Yuki Kawauchi - Japan's "citizen runner" who runs sub-2:10 marathons like they're a walk in the park....such a cool and humble dude.

The working runners' table!

The analysis
It's not too hard to figure out what went wrong here; there were 4 contributing factors that are, in no particular order:
- that ridiculous headwind
- running mostly totally alone against that ridiculous headwind
- low average mileage in the 12 weeks beforehand (including 4 weeks completely off)
- that 2:53 marathon in Melbourne that in retrospect was probably not a great idea, but lots of fun

From my 5K splits the story appears: I was going reasonably well until around 20K, after which time I gracefully faded (yet without totally giving up the ghost) to my first non-sub-3 marathon since late 2011.

It's disappointing not to have even broken 3 hours but on the other hand, I hit my goal of not being last - I was 25th of 30 in the professional women's race despite having the lowest seeding going into it. And the vast majority of others in the race lost 7-8 minutes (or more) off their goal: for example, both Deena Kastor and Kara Goucher went though half-way in 1:14 yet finished in 2:33 and 2:37 respectively. 

It was just a rough day and the headwind took a lot out of everyone -- starting in the main race would likely have made things a fair bit easier for me, but I'll never regret taking the opportunity to run New York Marathon as an elite athlete: it will remain forever in my memory as one of the most amazing experiences in my running career.