Mini-Mosmarathon 10K, June 2014

This preposterously hilly 10K is actually one of my favourite Sydney races, mainly on account of the fact that it takes place in the suburb where I grew up and serves as a fundraiser for the school where my twin brother and I started our academic careers (ahem) way back in kindergarten. It’s most definitely not a PR course, but still fun to do, in a masochistic sort of a way.

Elevation profile: not for the faint-hearted

There’s also a kids’ 2K race that I really wanted both of my kids to run, given their excellent results in the Mount Beauty and Yarrawonga races they’ve done so far this year. Somehow along the way I managed to convince my brother to not only sign his oldest daughter up for the 2K, but also to run the 10K with me himself. Well, “with me” was initially up for debate – “You always go hard don’t you?” was his first question when I mentioned running together.

It’s true that I tend to be competitive – although generally not with him, even when we were kids – but my initial thought was to just take it easy for this one. My justification was two-fold: not only was I pretty much destroyed from the May Madness (not to mention last weekend's RunCamp!) I was also mindful of the fact that the Mini-Mos is an insanely competitive field. Last year I raced my heart out yet only managed to finish 10^th overall and 3rd in my AG. So this year I figured, why bother? As a result I was feeling pretty darn relaxed as the kids and I flew up to Sydney the day before and settled in to stay with the little cousins, even with the inevitable wild kid chaos that ensued.

It also should be mentioned that none of the fun that the Mini-Mos turned out to be would have been possible without my sister-in-law, who uncomplainingly took on the daunting task of getting 5 kids age 9 and under ready to leave the house by 8am. Rob and I therefore got to head off early and unencumbered, with the kids arriving later but in plenty of time for their own race. Thanks Claire!!

The Training

In detail: see my 4 latest posts. 

In brief: lots of racing, lot of mindless jogging, and a weekend of high intensity running just 7 days earlier. Taper? What taper?

Race Day

It’s a perfect morning for running as we leave for Mosman: a crisp 10C (50F) with light cloud cover to keep off the sun. Rob and I go our separate ways to warm up – I do my customary 2 miles while he wanders around to keep warm – and meet again by the car to walk to the start line. He laughs when I insert us both right up the front; his style is more suited to casually starting at the back of the pack, or perhaps in the middle. But I know he’s capable of running close to 4:00 min/km (6:26 min/mile) in a race – I haven’t forgotten the many times that he beat me in the Biathlon at the Boy when we were in our twenties – so I laugh back and insist we stay here, which is about 4 rows back from the front.

"I can't believe you talked me into this"

Miles 1-3: 6:27, 6:50, 6:38 (pace in min/mile)

The gun goes and we set off, uphill of course. I'm setting what I think is a reasonable pace and Rob is keeping up without a problem as the first mile beeps - so far, so good. The undulations start for real during mile 2 and we slow down a bit, but since I'm not planning on racing anyway, I'm not too worried. During this mile there's a sharp uphill and then we're on the out-and-back part of the course where I counted the women in front of me last year. Uh oh......

Much as I try not to, it's irresistible; quite a few of them are wearing pink, too, and they inevitably catch my eye. One, two, three, four....and then quite a break until I count another 4 women...and that, apparently is all. My eyes widen: could it be that I'm already in the top 10?? This knowledge speeds me up during mile 3, and just as we approach the 5K mark there's another out-and-back stretch. Time to confirm that, maybe?

My brother is about 10 seconds behind me at this point, and I check my watch as we approach the 5K mark. I'm counting women on the other side of the road again - I was right the first time, I'm in 9th place right now - and a few of them are closer than I thought!

5K split: 19:45

Miles 4-6.2: 6:36, 6:26, 6:42 and 5:57 to finish

I round the turn out near the zoo and wave to Rob as I see him on the high side of the road; he gives me a grin and a thumbs-up, which I interpret as a free pass to do whatever I like (twin telepathy is good like that) so I step up the pace ever-so-gently. I have a very good idea of what's coming up and it includes some very unpleasant uphills, but my killer instinct has been ignited and I want to see if I can catch some of these girls ahead.

With the usual retinue of guys trailing me

Quite easily I catch and pass the first - obviously she's slowing down - but the second (also in pink) takes a bit longer to reel in. I finally pass her on the sharpish downhill to Cowles Rd and right before what I know is the steepest uphill of the course; I'm guessing she won't be catching me back anytime soon. Then, as I grind painfully up the hill I am VERY surprised to see yet another girl ahead. She's dressed in a white shirt and is clearly much younger than me (aren't they all these days?) - aha, a challenge! Let's go!

I'm in hot pursuit as we turn down the street on which I grew up and then down the only remaining downhill; she gains a bit on this stretch, but I know what lies in wait. I catch and pass her on the small flat stretch that follows, and it's a great incentive to keep pushing - because the final mile is pretty much ALL uphill. Crap, this is going to hurt! But I'm now quite unexpectedly in 6th place, and there's money for places 1-5: can I catch another female before the race is over??

Up, up, up I go and it's torture - through the start line again, up past the school and the park we used to play in at lunchtime. Finally things level out again and the 6th mile beeps. I'm giving it everything I've got left as I sprint around to the final small out-and-back; I glance behind me and nope, White Shirt is nowhere to be seen. But the nearest female is already on her way to the finish as I'm still heading the opposite way - there will be no cash reward for me today. All of which is irrelevant, anyway, I just want to finish and finish I do, hammering it all the way (in sharp contrast to my earlier expectation for the race).

Finish time: 41:03  (6:36 pace)

Placement: 3rd in AG (F40-49), 6th OA female.

Afterwards

It's a little disappointing to be so close to winning something yet miss out, but I have no time to dwell on it - I spot Sebastian from RunCamp and go over to say hello (he's off to run the 5K and will set a surprise new PR) - then I look back and Rob has appeared already! He's run 43:10, a very respectable time for this course (and for not having actually trained at all), so we grab some water and eventually make our way to a local cafe to warm up. The weather has taken a turn for the worse - it's cloudier and even colder than before - so it's very pleasant to sit and drink coffee while we wait for Claire and the kids to show up.

The organisational side of the 2K is absolutely wonderful: all the kids are lined up in age groups and marched out to start in wave fashion, which is enough to motivate Amelia to run the race on her own and spare me having to go with her, and I'm thrilled with this because I'm bloody FREEZING! Her start is later than Jack's, so I barely have time to run up to the finish line before he appears, striding along like a champion. In fact all 3 kids do extremely well and are very proud of themselves and their medals - many hours later they are all still wearing them.

Mini-Mos mini-champs

After the race there's a fair held in the school grounds, so we wander around and the kids choose some rides to go on; Rob and I predictably remark on how much smaller everything seems to look now, and after a while it's just too cold to stay any longer so we head home.

In retrospect, if I had been all-out racing the whole time I might well have finished 5th rather than 6th, but I wasn't - and I'm actually very happy with how I caught those 3 women in the final stages of the race. And I negative split a notoriously tough course, where the worst of the hills are in the second half, so I feel great about that too. Bring on next year!

RunCamp, Newcastle - June long weekend

Camp is something of a nostalgic concept to me these days; I have fond memories of jazz camp and other musical escapades that occupied me in my teenage years, and some less-fond-more-strange memories of the one Sport & Rec camp that I attended age 10 at Lake Burrendong. To this day I wonder why they teamed me (smallest camper of all) with the second-smallest camper of all and sent us out orienteering with instructions to "Take X steps northwest, then X steps east..." etc. If that's not a recipe for losing little campers, I don't know what is.

But I digress. I saw an ad for a running camp last year sometime in a magazine, and was quite intrigued by the idea of spending a weekend devoted to all things running with a bunch of similarly-obsessed people. So, when my longtime friend and fellow runner Polly told me she was attending a camp being held over the long weekend by RunLab, I was quick to sign up.

It turns out that the brains and driving force behind RunLab is Vlad Shatrov, a former champion triathlete who recently ran 2:25 in the Paris Marathon and has a passion for helping others achieve their running goals. RunLab is his pride and joy and has been taking up most of his time since the end of 2013, but this is the very first camp they've held. His enthusiasm is evident in the group emails that fly around in the weeks leading up to the camp, and I manage to taper for it by NOT racing on the weekend immediately beforehand. This turns out to be an excellent idea - even the impressive camp schedule gives no real clue as to just how strenuous the weekend is going to turn out to be, which is - in a word - VERY.

See all that yellow? That's running. And not just jogging, oh no.

DAY ONE: Saturday

I arrive in Sydney late on Friday night in the midst of an absolute tempest: wind, rain, and it's really cold. Conditions in Newcastle are similar, and to be honest I have some serious misgivings about the weather forecast, which calls for more of the same over the entire long weekend. But as Polly and I drive north on Saturday morning the clouds miraculously clear, and at 10:30am we arrive at Glenrock Scout Camp to sunny blue skies and not a whisper of wind. The view from the deck on the main meeting hall is glorious:

Yes, that's a beach down there, it will be the setting for some torture on the final day...

We dump our stuff in the fairly basic dorm rooms, meet our coaches and roomies, wander around a bit and then it's time for an introductory 40 minute run around the local area. Courtesy of all the rain in the past 24 hours, this devolves fairly rapidly into a mud-splashing, puddle-jumping joyride through the bush, and I have no chance to look at the scenery because I'm too busy watching my feet. So much for the theory - published in the Wagga Daily Advertiser a couple of months back - that I'm "predominantly a trail runner"; nothing could be further from the truth, although admittedly this leaping from rock to puddle and back again is sort of fun, in an oops-I-almost-broke-my-ankle sort of way. Thankfully, despite the gnarly obstacle course we all make it back to camp without that kind of incident.

After lunch there's a bit of time to relax - and a bike maintenance workshop for those with an interest in triathlons or cycling, which most definitely does NOT include me (for why, click here) - and then it's time for the second session of the day. Based on speed I've been put in the "A" group, but am most definitely one of the slower runners in it; this is something of a change for me, but not an unwelcome one. Vlad suggests some of us run to the start of the trail where we'll be doing long intervals - most of the As are up for it - and this part of the run involves wading across a tidal inlet, climbing a cliff and skipping through more tangled undergrowth. I can hardly wait to see what the workout involves!

At the top of the trail we're split into our 3 groups and given instructions as to what we are supposed to run: a ladder-type group of intervals comprising 2 x 1200m/1000m/800m with jog-back recoveries. Vlad and the coaches - Ben, Sebastian, Josh and Rich - are there to help everyone keep track of what's happening, and we all set off jogging to the start of the first repeat.

Vlad, at right: "And if you run so hard you need to throw up, just do it over there."

PEEP! The whistle sounds and we all take off like hyperactive 8 year olds at a fun run. God, this group I'm in are all fast! Alex and Neil are both sub-2:30 marathoners, Kasey is just 21 and a promising sprinter and short-distance runner......and in fact, everyone else is right up there too. I'm rapidly at the rear  (but not quite the whole way, because there is a nasty hill right before the final 200m, and in my usual form I catch people on it with my shuffly but efficient gait) and rather than making me feel annoyed, it's actually a great motivator for me to keep pushing myself.

This is the kind of workout I've never really done before, where there is time (although not much of it) to wait around between repeats, chiefly because I usually run alone and so there's nobody to wait for. I've never liked stopping during a run, either, but by the second set of repeats it's a very welcome respite from the effort required to get up that hill. And to make things worse I've managed to somehow not bring my Garmin, so I don't know how fast I'm running each repeat. Actually, that's probably not a bad thing after all.

By the end of the session everyone is utterly exhausted, but happy. We of the A team wisely refuse to run back (although someone does suggest it), mainly because during the final repeat the heavens have opened and we are all not only wet but now also cold, muddy and in dire need of a warm shower. All of that is readily obtainable back at camp, and after dinner it's time for an intriguing session from a local physiotherapist about the Functional Movement Screen.

So glad I wasn't chosen to attempt this stuff

The FMS looks at a runner's ability to perform certain movements, identifies limitations and asymmetries, and can be used to predict the risk of injury. Taso and Phil gamely step up and it's apparent rather quickly that one of them is potentially treading (running?) on thin ice. Uh oh! All this makes me very thankful I've had so few brushes with injury in the years since my Big One, and although it's fascinating it's also time for bed - a welcome idea in the face of a tiring day and the 5:30am wake-up call ahead.

Total running for the day: approximately 17 miles (27km)


DAY TWO: Sunday

There's a knock on the door at 5:30am and Vlad appears, hustling people into cars and we all (well, most of us) head out to some random location where a big hill awaits. I take one look at the gradient sloping away from me and decide, NOPE. There's a tempo workout on the books for this afternoon and a "recovery" run later in the morning - my ageing bones (not to mention muscles) aren't going to appreciate 2 tough workouts hard on the heels of yesterday's hills of death. So Sebastian - who has already done 8 training sessions this week as part of his Ironman prep - and I head off together for a 40 minute easy run whilst the sadists and masochists head down the hill to do their stuff. We run and chat our way down to the beautiful Merewether beach, along and up the next headland, then turn and retrace our steps.

The view as we turn around - yes, we have to go back up that hill in the distance. All the way up.

Wow, this hill didn't seem so big when we were jogging down it. Finally we make it back to the cars but no-one is around. Seb is going back to help prepare breakfast so I jog onward, 5 minutes up the road and then back, but there is still no sign of the hill runners. Another 5 minute out-and-back in the other direction; nope, still nobody around. I figure I might as well keep going, but when I return for a 3rd time, the parking area is empty. Whoops! At least I have my phone - at worst I can google maps my way back to camp, and by my calculations I've only run about 10 miles so far, so it won't kill me if I have to run the whole way. Although I have absolutely no idea which direction to take....

This, on the other hand, would probably have finished me off.

I decide to head down towards the beach, and thankfully after about 2 minutes I spot Vlad driving back towards me. He pulls over and Josh very valiantly gives up his seat so that I can hop in. Back at camp we devour our breakfast with relish and then the biggest decision is, do we shower now, or later after the second run....or remain stinky the WHOLE day until the final tempo is over? I elect to shower now and probably later as well; out of the sun the temperature is still chilly and a nice shower is the perfect way to thaw out.

To top off a morning that has already seen a great run, a warm shower and a yummy breakfast, what could be left to do? A visit to a running store, of course! We head up the hill to Pure Performance Sports - who have generously sponsored the camp in the form of a nice discount for all campers to use - and it's runner nirvana, honestly. I've been thinking of trying out some new Mizuno shoes (the Wave Sayonara) so it's a really easy sell for the bloke who comes over to help me: I tell him what shoe I want, in which colour and size, he goes to get them and I buy them. Simple!

Mmmm, shoes.

The late morning recovery run takes place on a nearby disused railway line that has been turned into a wonderful sealed path beloved by runners and cyclists alike - the Fernleigh track - where my rapid cadence and way-too-fast recovery pace means I can easily keep up with the speedsters (Vlad, Alex, Neil, Kasey, Ben and Phil); this will NOT be the case later in the afternoon. We run and chat and make our way up to the oval where we will be running tempo intervals later in the day. It's kind of muddy - Vlad is muttering and sizing up the gravel path around the outside of the oval - but none of us is paying much attention really as we amble along at a comfortable, conversational pace. Although I *am* trying not to get too much mud on my new Mizunos.

Recovery option: Le Tour de Verandah!
(shirtless blokes a bonus extra)

Back at camp it's time for lunch - everyone is starving - and then some quality laying-around time in anticipation of a quality workout later on. After a very informative talk on shoes I actually crawl into the sleeping bag Polly has kindly lent me and have almost decided that I'm never coming back out again, when Vlad's whistle sounds and it's time to saddle up for the afternoon session. We drive up to the entrance to the Fernleigh track, the A team warm up by running the 3km or so to the oval, there's a bit of standing around and then PEEP - it's on!

The session is 3 x 7 minutes at half-marathon pace - or at least effort - quickly we discover that the mud and gravel and soggy grass are very difficult to run normal pace on! Once again I'm at the rear end of the A group, and I'm pleased to find that I can make it roughly 3.25 laps around each time without really seeming to lose much ground on the later repeats. Sebastian, Vlad, Josh and Ben are scattered around the place yelling encouragement and random numbers (usually time left) at people; much of it doesn't make sense to me because the B and C groups have started at a different time and are sometimes running shorter reps. So I just keep running until I see Phil and Ben (who are the A guys closest to me, the others being lost in a blur of mud and motion) slow down, then I stop. It's surprisingly a lot of fun, and the doubts I had on the warm-up about the sanity of this workout are quickly dispersed.

The A team run our final tempo interval back on the Fernleigh track, and it's hilarious: Neil and Alex take off like their shorts are on fire, which makes the rest of us forget the fatigue in our legs and just GO! I manage to keep myself together enough to pass a couple of the guys who initially streak ahead of me (and that's more satisfying than it should be, heh heh) but have no hope in hell of catching the others: I find out later that Neil ran 2:58 pace for the first 1km of the final interval. That's 4:46 min/mile. Did I mention he was 2nd overall at Boston to Big Sur this year? Or that he followed that up with a 2:42 at the Vancouver marathon a week later? They breed 'em tough in the far north of Scotland, let me tell you.

Feeding the hungry hordes at lunch day 2

Back at camp we're all a mess of mud and post-run endorphins, and I can't quite believe I've completed my first TRIPLE running day. After another very pleasant shower it's time for dinner and then entertainment - local running enthusiast Andrew Dodd has come to talk to us about the recent history of running in Australia and to generally amuse us for the evening.

He puts us through a series of group exercises including one where we all have to line up in order of who has raced the longest distance (it turns out a fair few have run ultramarathons, and Ben makes us all laugh when he remembers he's actually run a 56km ultra rather than the 6K he thought was his longest race - obviously his brain has just repressed that traumatic memory), and another according to how far away from here we have raced.

I'm standing in the group of "New York/Boston" until I do a Ben and realise suddenly that Edinburgh, Scotland is a fair bit further away than Boston! I race to the head of the queue but there's someone who has been even further north. Thankfully it's time to sit down again and we all listen intently to stories about running and runners for the next hour or so - by 9:30pm many are flaking out on the spot and we have a 5:30am start tomorrow, so again it's time for bed.

Total running for the day: approximately 23 miles (37km)


DAY THREE: Monday

Long run day is here! I get off to an interesting start by somehow neglecting to set any kind of alarm, and sit bold upright at 5:37am to the realisation that I have MISSED THE GROUP!! I guess I assumed I'd just wake up or that I'd hear Vlad's knock or something - a quick inspection tells me that everyone else in the room (Kasey, Polly and Liz) is still snoozing and that apparently I was the only one scheduled to leave at 5:30am. BUGGER!

I throw on my running clothes in the pitch dark and dash out the door, wondering wildly if I can find my way to the start of the Fernleigh track via that crazy trail where we ran on the first morning (although I will almost certainly break both my ankles in the process, considering how dark it is), or if I should go up the (VERY steep) road that leads to camp --- and I bump straight into Taso, who has also been left behind. Thankfully Aron up and he offers to drive us to the start, so we set off on the long run only 10-15 minutes behind the other early groups.

RunCampers L to R: Phil, Elizabeth, Kasey, Liz, Josh (coach)
Aron, Emma, Tytana and Greg (newly-weds on their "runnymoon"!) and Polly

The Fernleigh track is 15km in total, and we've started about 1.5km from the Adamstown end of it. I'm supposed to be running 30km total today; I run a couple of km with Taso but I'm freezing (in the mad rush to get dressed I completely underestimated how cold it is outside) so I speed up quite a bit in order to warm up in the process.

I've settled into a comfortable pace around 4:40 min/km (7:30 min/mile) and am almost all the way to the Redhead station - a very cool part of the track where you actually run right through an old railway platform - when I finally see another group of RunCampers coming back towards me, and it's the speed demons themselves:

Neil, Alex, Vlad......and me, totally in their dust.

Over the course of the next hour I see most of the others from camp at various stages of their run, and when I get back to the starting point I have to decide whether or not to go run the other part to complete 30km in total. At first it's touch and go, but I really really want to run through the tunnel that we saw on our first run at camp, so I head across the road and run onward. And there it is!

Isn't that so cool?

Fairly soon after I emerge from the other side my enthusiasm for running much further is waning - I'm not in official marathon training just now, so there's no compelling reason to complete the whole distance - and I turn back. With about half a mile to go I am caught by the speedy trio on their return leg - I have plenty of energy left to speed up and stay with them, thank goodness, so we finish the LR together in style. 27km or so for me; for the first time I've been tracking myself using MapMyRun, but my phone has just run out of battery and I'm surprisingly Zen about not knowing my exact pace or distance run. The camp has been good for me in this regard!

Back at camp it's surreal to think we still have one session left. I literally NEVER exercise again on the same day as a long run, and I've actually already told Benita that I don't want to do the sand running session that's on the schedule (and she agrees!), but predictably I get sucked in and pretty soon we are heading down to the beach.

"They will probably be able to get to the top of that dune without supplemental oxygen....I think....." 

I know now why I've pretty much never done any running on sand: I'm an utter wimp. Add hills to the torture of slogging through soft sand and it's the perfect double-whammy - I really can't believe I'm doing this. At first Vlad has us running on/off fartlek intervals around a loop that is part hard sand (with the occasional shoe-drenching from rogue waves) and part soft. Actually it's mostly soft sand, with twigs and rocks thrown in here and there; some people have their shoes off but I'd rather keep mine on than step on something sharp. Pretty soon they are FULL of sand, and it's hard enough running on the darn stuff, this is making it worse.

And just when I'd like to stop, it's time for sand hill repeats. EIGHT of them!! I stupidly and stubbornly start with the A team - this means I have 2 hills to run up rather than 1 - but for the second set of 4 I finally concede defeat and move myself to the group that is starting a little closer to the turning point. It's a totally different kind of workout but somehow we all make it to the end -- and so ends the running part of RunCamp, with an impromptu salt water ice bath and half a beach in my shoes.

Total running for the day: approximately 18 miles (29km)

Summing it all up

There's not much to say about the rest of the morning - we eat lunch, clean up, say our farewells and head off home. The weather has been just about perfect, in sharp contrast to Sydney where it has pretty much poured rain all weekend. A few times during the weekend I did wonder about the wisdom of packing so much of both quantity and quality in to 3 days of running, but I've come through it unscathed and actually feeling pretty great. I've never been one to push the limits much (other than in terms of overall mileage) so these hill repeats and sand torture sessions are entirely new to me; and now I know that I can do them and not fall in a heap. That's a great thing to know!

Overall, I couldn't have enjoyed the weekend any more than I did - it was ridiculously fun to meet a group of similarly running-obsessed people and for me, a mostly solitary runner, it was a fantastic change to run in a group and be challenged to keep up with them. I'm in awe of the concept of RunLab and the dedication, commitment and expertise that Vlad and his wife Cheryl have put into making the weekend such a success for everyone. I'd recommend them to anyone looking to get into running, change up their training, regain their running mojo, or just have a lot of fun with other runners. And next time you see an ad for a running camp - sign up on the spot!

The end of the line!
at back: Ben, Chris, Sebastian (coach), Mariana, Nicole, Cheryl, Helen
at front: Neil, Blair, Brent.

As a result of the weekend at RunCamp I have now started doing regular hill sessions in my own training program, and it will be very interesting to see how this affects my running in the next few months - as always I will report back!

May Madness, 2014 - Mount Beauty HM

The fourth (and final) race: Mt Beauty HM, Saturday May 24

I can't even remember signing up for this race, or how it came to my attention, but Mt Beauty is a lovely spot in the Victorian Alpine region just to the south of Wagga, and I guess I felt a change of scenery would be nice.

It's also possible that I looked up the winning times from last year and figured I could easily run better than 1:29. But I signed up for Mt Beauty well before I added races to the 3 weekends immediately preceding it - so by the time this half marathon rolled around, I was already pretty much raced-out. But not quite entirely.

Race Day
Mum, the kids and I arrive after dark on the evening before the race, so we have not seen the scenery until we wake on Saturday. It's a crisp, cool morning and the mountains all around us are shrouded in mist - but once it lifts, wow! This place certainly lives up to its name.

It's a very short drive to the start area where lots of excited runners are milling around, and we pick up our bibs without much trouble at all. I head out for my now-traditional 2 mile warm-up and nope, my legs are not too interested in moving particularly fast. Benita and I have discussed strategy and figured that a solid time around 1:25 will do nicely, and if last year's results are anything to go by, should also be enough to make me the winning female. But it's also all about who shows up on the day - so my chickens are by no means counted at this early stage.

Lining up right at the front, I spot the blonde girl who charged out ahead of me at Yarrawonga and then faded; she has a 10K bib on, though, so I don't have to worry about her. But then I see a small, wiry-looking woman with a huge head of dreadlocks and a snappy all-black outfit that bares enough skin to show off some rather interesting ink. She looks like a contender.....but what is that on her feet??

Can it be? Oh my god. Yes, it is. It's a pair of these:

What is this, 1976?
She probably wasn't even born yet back then.

Okay then, maybe I don't need to worry about her after all. The starter calls out "One minute!" and stupidly I realise I haven't turned on my Garmin. Didn't I do this last week as well?? To my relief it finds the satellite signal exactly as the 10 second countdown starts, then the gun sounds and away we go!

Miles 1-3: 6:04, 6:26, 6:17

The start heads out across the damp grassy oval and onto a gravel path beside a small lake. In the first mile I'm initially in the lead, but then the girl with dreds saunters past me and opens up a tidy gap - hang on, what?? The dreadlocks and black attire bring to mind the word "Rastafarian", which a slight oxygen debt in my own brain transforms into "Rasta Fairy-Ann" - ok, it's cheesy, but it really fits her. She's flitting ahead of me at a disturbing rate, but my own pace is already too fast, so I resist the temptation to give chase. Jeez, she's quick though.

During mile 2 I'm slightly distracted by a bloke who comes up alongside me and starts chatting. When he tells me he ran this race last year, my instant response is to ask "So does it get hilly?" He replies emphatically that it does, and I look at my Garmin: it's reading 6:08 pace. Wow, too fast, even though we are yet to encounter a hill. I slow down deliberately and we chat on for a bit, then he drops back and I move ahead. During mile 3 it starts - a small roller and then a much bigger one - I'm still holding onto a good pace, but I have no idea what lies ahead.

5K split: 19:05 (approx)

See how it goes UP the whole bloody page? That right there should have been a red flag.

Miles 4-6: 6:36, 7:10, 6:49

Oh. My. God. The small sharp hill to the 5K mark leads the way to a much larger, much longer one that just keeps going and going and GOING. I'm gaining on Rasta Fairy, although not quickly, but any thoughts about her are rapidly replaced by ones that contain only 4 words: WHEN WILL THIS END? My pace slides promptly south, and I choose to focus not on the numbers but solely on the gap between Rasta and myself, because it's the only thing that is improving right now. There's a photographer on the side of the road so I exert myself to smile and flash a peace sign - god knows my race photos lately have been almost uniformly hideous, so it's the least I can do to try and change that. Although it's probably more a rictus of horror than a smile that I have on my face right now. Up, up and up I go.

(still waiting for photos from the race to put here, hopefully soon!)

Miles 7-9: 6:28, 6:07, 5:55

10K split: 39:50

Finally the turnaround is in sight - it amuses me briefly to see that the road beyond it is even steeper - and, what's more, I'm only about 10 seconds behind Rasta Fairy now. She looks surprised when she turns and sees how close I am; she immediately speeds off down the hill at a pace that doesn't surprise me. I have a decision to make: do I chase her, or let her go? 

LOOK AT THAT!!

It's an interesting dilemma; I didn't quite catch her going up (which is my strong suit, since my gait means I tend to slow down less than others going up hills) and she's definitely faster than me on the downhills and flat, so it may not be possible at all. My only hope is that she doesn't have my endurance - but it's a big hope and one that's worth pursuing. So I relax, let my Roadrunner legs spin free, and off I go in hot pursuit. I check my Garmin when mile 9 beeps and am amused to see 5:55 - that's not a number I see very often, even in shorter races! But it's about what I want, and again I'm catching Rasta Fairy - or at least I'm no further behind, she has about 100m on me - so all systems are go at this point.

Miles 10-12: 6:03, 6:05, 6:10

I'm thinking I want to check my time at the 10 mile mark, but suddenly something happens ahead of me that takes me completely by surprise: Rasta Fairy is running out of pixie dust. Abruptly she is within striking distance, and then before I know it I am pulling up right alongside her. Yet again the debate starts inside my head, should I pass her now or hang back and wait? I don't even know why I bother asking myself this anymore, since I already know the answer - I'm not going to hang back. 

Rasta Fairy holds on next to me for a good half mile, and I'm starting to wonder if she's going to find another gear and once again leave me in the dust, but finally during mile 11 she disappears from my side. Phew! Strangely enough, no part of my brain can form the thought "I'm going to win!" yet - all I can think is "Keep pushing, don't give up" - I have no idea if I'm going to be able to build or hold any kind of lead whatsoever.  It's comforting to know that she slowed down even when we were still going downhill, but I take nothing for granted, I just run. I'm not looking at my Garmin, I'm just running as hard as I can and figuring that if it's meant to be, it will be.

Mile 13.1: 6:10, 5:51 pace to the finish

Dashing across the grass towards the finish line, I'm still way too scared to look over my shoulder. I have visions of a dreadlocked runner in tennis shoes, powering past me at the last second to break the tape, and it's enough to make me finally panic just a tiny bit - with the finish line only 50m away I finally look. To my great surprise she is nowhere to be seen! And then I heard screams of "Mummy! Mummy!!" from the side as I throw myself over the finish mats and hit my Garmin all at once. I'm more out of breath than I've been at the end of any of my recent races, but it was totally worth it: I won!!

Finish time: 1:23:18 (6:20 pace)

Placement: 1st female, 8th OA. 1st in AG 40+

In retrospect I think this was possibly one of my best races ever - I raced smartly, conquered an enormous hill in the process, and ran essentially 10K pace on either end of the massive ascent. I outlasted a much younger (and probably inherently faster) rival, and finished with my second win for the month, 3rd podium finish -- but the only one with an actual podium! Yay!

Blurry photo (thanks, 7 yr old son) and I'm not even looking....but you get the idea!
That's Rasta Fairy on the left of the photo.

And now? Some well-deserved rest!

May Madness, 2014 - SMH half-marathon

The third race: SMH half-marathon, Sunday May 18th

I have no idea why this race is still one of my favourites; it's competitive, relatively crowded, but worst of all it's an absolute bastard of a course. These days it's probably actually easier than it was in 2001 when I ran it as my first ever HM, but it's still as hilly as heck and the final mile (all uphill) is pure torture. Elevation profile, for the sadists:

Sure, there are downhills, but what about the final mile? Hmm?

Still, Sydney is without a doubt my favourite - not to mention the most beautiful - city in the world, and it's always wonderful to run by the harbour and enjoy its sights. Maybe that's why I keep returning to torture myself here - there's no other reason that comes to mind.

Race Day

Another Sunday, another race. We're staying just half a mile from the start and Dad has stayed over to take care of the kids while I run (the race starts at the not-very-kid-friendly hour of 6:45am) so I decide to just set off on my warmup directly from the apartment and not have to bother dropping off a gear bag. The weather has been unseasonably warm in Sydney lately, so I'm confident I'm not going to freeze while I wait around at the start. Also I'm in the preferred start group, which is reasonably large, but it means I get to simply jog up about 10 minutes before the gun goes off and once that happens it's only around 10 seconds before I cross the mats. Off we go!


Miles 1-3: 6:12, 6:08, 6:15

Ooh, crowded. The pace feels stupidly slow as we head towards the wild downhill charge that will take us to Circular Quay and then the historic area of The Rocks. I'm zigging and zagging in an effort to get past people who are dawdling all over the frigging road (how did they get into the preferred start??) around me. I glance at my watch and am surprised to see 6:08 pace on there - it feels a LOT slower. But then again, I think I ran this first mile in 5:49 one year, so I really *am* going kind of slow at this point. Kind of.

Tortuous, or should that be torturous? Whatever. Course map.

Anyway, the pace feels fine as I zoom along through the Rocks and under the Harbour Bridge. There seem to be a lot of women ahead of me, but as soon as we hit the first incline just before the 3 mile mark, I start to catch them - including a young girl with red hair and her name on her bib. Hey, why don't I ever get a name bib for this event? It's a question that occupies me briefly until mile 3 beeps and so I'm happy to see that I'm pretty much on pace (for now) that I forget to be annoyed.

Miles 4-6: 6:16, 6:12, 6:11  5K split 19:28

The rolling part of the course starts as we head out on the Western Distributor (read: big road) towards Darling Harbour and Pyrmont. Up, down, up down - so far it's not killing me too badly, but I'm very aware of the big hills that await right before the finish, so I'm not pushing it too hard just yet. Already the male leaders are coming back - Michael Shelley and Liam Adams are close together and pushing hard - I keep an eye out for the female lead and am not surprised to see Nikki Chapple streets ahead of any other woman.

Somewhere in the early miles, looking rather too focused.

Miles 7-9: 6:23, 6:18, 6:18

Around mile 7 I am pleasantly surprised to see my friend Polly - who, as it turns out, is running part of the race in a relay team with another friend - pop out from the crowd and call my name. My own personal cheerleader! I still have enough breath and brainpower to wave back and yell "HI POLLY!!" - so that's good. Not long afterwards we start weaving our way through some of the freeway spaghetti on our way back to the city, and my Garmin starts freaking out - still, my pace is okay. Particularly since miles 8 and 9 contain some nasty steep inclines as the course winds its way up onto the Harbour Bridge approaches again, before diving off down to the Cahill Expressway, ugh. Are we there yet?

Mile 10-12: 6:02, 6:11, 6:09

Okay, that first mile split has to be a glitch - there's no way I just sped up that much. Or did I? The downhill across the Cahill Expressway is a major relief and I relax into it, letting my legs spin as my breathing settles back down. I'm going to need the recovery now because the final 2 hills are coming up, and I'm not looking forward to this part at all.

Catch me if you can, boys.

On the other hand, hills are sort of my strong suit, and I tend to catch many people whilst running up them. By the time we hit the top of Macquarie Street and head down past the Art Gallery for the loop around Mrs Macquarie's Chair, I have passed at least 3 more girls and a small harem of boys is desperately trying to stay with me. By the time I get to the turn down by the harbour, they're nowhere to be seen. And it's time to start the final, painful mile to the finish.....

Alone now, and unimpressed.

Mile 13.1: 6:24 all the way
I continue to catch female runners in this final mile back up past the Art Gallery and through the parklands of the Domain - but it's torture and all I can think is, when will this be OVER? Rounding the corner at the top of the hill I see a familiar blue shirt go past on the other side of the road - oh my God, she has a named bib that reads "FLANERY" - it's Fleur, who beat me here last year by about a minute and in Melbourne by about 10 seconds, and something similar is about to happen again, dammit!! I put my head down and try to sprint but my legs are not having it, and I cross the line at the same 6:24 pace as the rest of the final mile.

Finish time: 1:22:25

Placement: 9th OA female, 3rd AG (F40-44)

9 seconds slower than last year, and somehow that's disappointing until I realise I placed better (9th vs 11th, 3rd vs 4th in AG) and suddenly I feel fine about it all. One more race on the calendar - oh dear, I'm beginning to feel like I need a break. Was this really such a good idea after all?

May Madness, 2014 - part 1

I've finally gotten to a point where I find racing pretty fun. I remember a time not so very long ago when I preferred to race infrequently, feeling I didn't need the pressure to perform and that I'd rather do my own thing than line up with a bunch of strangers and feel compelled to compete.

But now, oh how things have changed. Maybe it's the modest success I've had in placing well or winning swag (chiefly in small, regional races), maybe I'm more confident than I used to be, or maybe I just don't give a rat's ass anymore about how I perform. Whatever it is, I like racing now! And even before Boston I had already thrown my hat in the ring for no less than 4 races in the month of May. I did the same last year (and in fact this year I'm returning to 3 of the same races); it was more fun than I expected.

The first race: Bathurst HM, Sunday May 4th.

Boston was late this year, and the gap between the two races has narrowed to just over 12 days. Although my legs feel quite peppy again after a very easy first week post-marathon, I'm not sure what is going to happen as I drive to Bathurst with my enthusiastic cheer committee in tow. The night before the race it's VERY cold (it has snowed nearby that morning) and raining, with a forecast that calls for similar conditions in the morning. It's the weekend of the Bathurst show, though, and despite the cold the kids and I enjoy an impromptu fireworks display from the balcony of our hotel room. Then it's early to bed under multiple layers of blankets, to see what the next morning will bring.

Race Day

Well, it's cold but at least not raining. The race outfit I have packed is frighteningly skimpy, though, so I layer on lots of other clothes and we head for the Bathurst Rugby Club, where the race begins. As I pick up my bib I sneak a look at the list of entrants and nope, Jane Fardell is not on there. Hmmm, interesting. She might yet show up and register, though, so I keep a bit of an eye out before heading off on a 2 mile warm-up jog.

There's a stiff breeze blowing and by the time I've reached the end of the first mile and turned back, I know my legs aren't fully recovered from Boston yet. There's a strange achey feeling to them and the effortless springiness I felt in Wangaratta (before my 1:21:34 half in February) is absolutely not there. Never mind - Jane is definitely not racing today so there is still a chance I might win.

Lined up for the start I see last year's overall winner, Brendan Davies (a world-class ultra runner), so I introduce myself again and we chat briefly whilst shivering in the icy blast. The announcers finally call us over, we gather near the timing mats and whoosh, off we go, directly into the wind.

Yes, front and centre.

Miles 1-3: 6:18, 6:25, 6:24 (pace in min/mile) 5K split 19:50 approx

Benita has told me to go out in 6:15-6:25 pace and I actually have no intention of going that slow (ha) but it seems my legs have decided who's boss, and it is definitely not me. The first mile is a touch faster - there's a woman who powers out ahead of me at around 6:00 pace and so I exert myself to pull ahead of her in the first half mile to check her bib: aha, a 10K runner, so nothing to worry about. I let her pass me back and she stays ahead for a short while; then when she starts to slow I saunter by and her breathing reassures me that she won't be passing me again.

Miles 4-6: 6:21, 6:10, 6:31

The effort I'm putting in should be getting me low 6:00 pace, but it's not. That would be worrying except for one thing: this course has a LOT of hairpin turns that are somewhat annoying but also afford an excellent opportunity to check how far behind (or ahead) the competition is. So that's exactly what I do.

5 hairpin turns per lap!

At the first big hairpin (lower right of map, between miles 2 and 3) I note that the 10K girl is about 40 seconds behind me. Another 10 seconds back is the first HM female - 50 seconds is not a huge gap at this point, but I guess we will see what develops. My legs are toast but  I'm managing to hold 6:25ish pace without too much difficulty, so I figure if I can stick with that I'll be okay.

Now is the time when I start passing blokes who have gone out way too fast. This generally happens at some point in almost every race for me, and it's always fun to see their reactions. The first guy I approach from behind surges like a maniac when I pull up alongside, and I let him go before gently reeling him in again. He surges again but it doesn't last and I sail past once more, this time for good. The next guy is up for the fight as well. He's wearing a NSW State Titles jersey which I think is for boxing - it's probably not for running. The wind is at our backs as we race up the out-and-back that finishes mile 5 and starts mile 6, and he drags me along to complete my fastest mile of the race (6:10). When we turn back into the wind it's like being hit with a sack of bricks; I grit my teeth and battle on, but he fades fast. Next?

Miles 7-9: 6:25, 6:27, 6:26 10K split 39:30 approx

Back past the starting line and up the road for the add-on that completes the first lap of the HM, Brendan is waaaay out in front now. I note my time again at the turnaround and see with satisfaction that I now have 4 minutes on 2nd place female and almost 5 on 3rd. I'm barely holding onto my marathon pace from Boston, though, and whilst it would be nice to just slack off now and jog home, the winning time should be at least half worthy and I'm definitely not going to take it easy. I pass another 2 blokes as we again battle the headwind back past the Rugby Club and out for the second lap.

All alone....

Miles 10-12: 6:27, 6:29, 6:24

The wind is really taking a toll now; every time I turn into it, I feel it more. There's a guy ahead of me with a short, shuffly gait that reminds me of my own, and it takes me a while to catch him but I finally achieve it after yet another hairpin that puts the icy gale directly into our faces. I can hear the pitter-patter of his feet behind me for a while, but he's not catching me. I'm starting to lap the slowest of the half-marathoners as I finally take the turn back along the river and into the final mile.

Mile 13-finish: 6:26, 5:54 pace to finish

It's a small mercy that the wind is at my back for the final half mile; I sail down the road towards the finish and even manage to pull out a small finishing kick that gets me across the line as first female. I've set an alarm on my son's iPad to tell him when to come down to watch me finish, and as I cross the line I hear excited cries of "Mummy! You won, Mummy!" to my left. How fantastic!

My local fan club, membership: 2.

Finish time: 1:23:44 (6:23 pace)

Placement: 1st female, 5th overall.

I'm pretty happy with how I hung onto the pace, even if it wasn't very much faster than I ran the whole of Boston. Obviously I'm not fully recovered yet but I was still able to put in a solid effort, so that's great. And Jane not showing up played a large part in my ability to win!

We hang around to get our photo taken (see above) and for the presentation, where I get an envelope and a medal. Then it's off for brunch and an exciting museum full of fossils and dinosaur bones before the lazy drive home. My legs are sore already when I step out of the car back home; will I live to regret racing again so soon after Boston? Only time, and perhaps next weekend's race effort, will tell.


The second race: Canberra Mother's Day 10K, Sunday May 12.
The Mother's Day Classic is one I've run in Sydney many years ago (at least 2 or 3 times) and I've run Canberra the past 2 years, chiefly because it's a lot closer. Not to mention how lazy Wagga only has a 5K walk....really not my speed. Anyway, it's a great event, a good excuse to wear lots of pink, and I've had moderate success there - even with relatively slow times - with 3rd place finishes in both the 5K (2012) and 10K (2013). Why not go back and see what better training might get me this year?

The 10K is 2 laps of this deceptively simple-looking course.

Race Day
Somehow I manage to underprepare in almost every way for this race: I stay up late the night before drinking wine with my friend Sonia, and wake up very reluctantly at 6am with a slight hangover and a marked aversion to the thought of running fast. Eventually I drag myself out of bed, snag a banana and a kids' muesli (granola) bar from the kitchen, and venture forth in the direction of Lake Burley Griffin. The weather is nowhere near as wretched as I was expecting it to be - in fact it's a balmy 10C/50F and cloudy but not raining - so that's a good start.

I've forgotten to bring water with me, though, and on the drive over I realise I'm utterly busting for the bathroom. Thankfully I know where to park and also where to find a restroom, so I'm able to take care of that need fairly promptly after I arrive near the race start area. Then it's off for a warm-up lap of the course, which feels pretty uninspiring. At least the stiff headwind of 2012 has not reappeared, I guess.

Waiting for the start a woman starts talking to me; her name is Kelly-Ann and she recognises me from last year when she placed 4th to my 3rd. I tell her "I'm not in the mood to run fast today"; she laughs and then points out a woman nearby who is all in black. Apparently she is one to watch - she beats Kelly-Ann at half marathons regularly - but she might be injured. I guess we'll see what happens.

Start line, with Kelly-Ann and an Indian bloke who appears to be checking out her left knee.

Lap 1: 6:12, 6:17, 6:04
Immediately there are 3 women - Girl in Black among them - who shoot way out in front of me. As we go up and over the Kings Ave bridge for the first time I'm already thinking "Ok, fourth isn't bad, at least you won't have to hang around for the presentation", but of course it's too early to make that kind of prediction. Benita has told me to aim for 6:05-6:15 pace and not go too hard on the first lap, so I settle in and try (for once) to follow instruction. Surprisingly it seems to work, and the first mile split beeps as I head down off the bridge: spot on.

Pounding along the southern side of the lake is somehow never inspiring, and despite the lack of headwind I still slow down a little. There are kids at a water station about halfway along with a bubble machine, and it's kind of fun to see how many I can pop as I whizz through. Predictably, I've started to catch guys who went out too fast, and then towards the end of the second mile I realise that OMG, I seem to be catching two of those women as well!

Mile 3 starts with a sharp uphill onto the Commonwealth Ave bridge - that one is going to HURT the second time around, I know it - and although I slow down a bit, Girl in Black ahead of me slows down a LOT more. Before I know it we are over the peak of the bridge and then I'm bearing down on her like a B-double (read: enormous truck) with no brakes. I zoom past as we head back down towards the lake, and look up to see that a girl in a pink singlet and black capris is now also well within reach. I'm going to be in second!! It's all so exciting that mile 3 turns out to be my fastest so far. Grinning like a Cheshire Cat I pass by the start line to begin the second lap.

Lap 2: 6:13, 6:18, 6:06
I honestly have no idea now who is behind me or how far behind, and by "who" I specifically mean "other women". This lap is going to be all about hanging on and not fading, and to my surprise I find myself doing that with panache. Up and over the King's Ave bridge again, mile 4 beeps 6:13 and I'm feeling surprisingly good. Benita has told me that it will hurt from the start, that's how 10Ks are, and sure I'm hurting some - but it's not unbearable.

I continue to catch male runners along the pathway in front of the High Court and library, and one over-enthusiastic volunteer calls out "First lady!" to me as I pass. Hah, thanks, but I know there's a girl with a white singlet and long ponytail in front of me, although I can barely see her most of the time. Second is definitely good enough for me at this point.

The game of Assassin Mode continues up and over the Commonwealth Ave bridge - that steep uphill gets me another male scalp, and the bridge yet another - the incline is tough going but my pace actually holds up surprisingly well. I'm lapping the slower 10Kers now, and many are yelling encouragement or clapping, and this spurs me on as well.

When mile 6 beeps I look down to see 6:06, and am so surprised that I put on a bit of a  sprint to the finish. There are slower runners all over the place now and the path narrows considerably - I'm forced to bellow "COMING THROUGH!!" a few times - but I manage to hold onto 5:53 pace over the final part of the course. Two people are holding up a tape (for second? sure!) as I dash across the grass to cross the line: second female!! Yippee!

The spoils.

Finish time: 38:36 (6:13 pace)

Placement: 2nd female, 8th OA, 1st in AG (F40-44).

Well, that was actually fun! And possibly the best-executed race I've ever run. There's quite a difference now to how I feel about racing - I have a lot more confidence, I'm no longer as scared or worried about not being able to hold a certain pace and stay the distance. The speed work of the past 6 months has shown me that I'm capable of running closer to 6:00 pace than I ever imagined I could, although I'm still convinced that my shuffle means I'm speed-limited to some extent.

If you count Boston, I've raced 3 of the past 4 weekends, and quite frankly my legs don't know what has hit them. It's been a ton of fun, though, and there's more to come!

Boston Marathon, April 2014

Boston. Two years ago, if I’d told a random person in Wagga that I was going to run the Boston Marathon, chances are this would have meant very little to them. But since April 15^th 2013, the same news has provoked a very different reaction. Just about everyone has heard of the Boston Marathon now, and everyone who knew I was there in 2013 had the same reaction as I did: going back in 2014 was never in question. I had to do it. Of course, the invitation to once again participate in the Elite Women's Start did help -- but I was always coming back to Boston.


The Training

Strangely enough I seem to have changed a lot of my beliefs about my own running in the past few years. I once said I'd never run a marathon ("Run a HM twice over? No thank you!") and there was a time when training plans and coaching were not for me ("But what if I don't WANT to run 10 miles that day?") All that has changed now, and I have been very pleased to find that Benita's method of coaching agrees with me in every way.

So after my slightly disappointing finish in Melbourne, Boston assumed even more significance - once again it became a major goal race, my chance to better my PR from last year, and I was fortunate enough to have a practically perfect training cycle leading up to April.

From December through February we hummed along at a steady 80-90 miles per week with regular intervals and tempo runs, as well as a fair dose of racing, all at my suggestion. With the exception of one VERY poorly thought-out long run that ended in an epic bonk (my first real experience of hitting the Wall), my training went very smoothly. I was encouraged by my results in both Wangaratta and Yarrawonga, and by the end of March the stars appeared to be aligning themselves for a major happening on April 21.

My ride to Dallas.

Travel and lead-up

I get a solid 7 hours of sleep on the flight to Dallas Fort Worth and once there make my way so effortlessly through Immigration and Customs that I swear I am never going to fly anywhere via LAX again - the comparison between the two airports is laughable. I've often said LAX is a toilet but compared to DFW it's actually a hole in the ground with sandpaper the only option for wiping. The flight to Dallas is slightly longer but the time saved from not having to queue for hours on end at Los Angeles airport more than makes up for this inconvenience.

In Boston the atmosphere is one of an enormous, joyful street party. It's awesome to meet up once again with running friends from all parts of the country and the world; there are many old faces and many new as well. The expo is a epicentre of activity and energy, heaving with excited runners and supporters. This year's jackets are a startling dayglo orange, though, and although I'd like to I just can't quite bring myself to buy one. Never mind, there are exciting palindromic bibs to be picked up and plenty of other running goods to be had!

It's like I'm number 1, only 3 times as awesome!

As we walk the streets we are surprised to see large numbers of people wearing hand-knitted scarves in the Boston colours; at first it reminds me of the knitting projects we did in Year 5 at school (aka the 5th grade), but why are there so many of them around?? It turns out the scarves are from the Marathon Scarf Project, which is being run by the Old South Church in Boston. The church stands on Boylston St just 100 feet from the marathon finish line, and last year was one of the places where terrified runners and spectators took shelter in the aftermath of the bombings. This year the scarves are being distributed to runners as a way of fighting back against the horror of last year's tragedy, and from their website below the explanation:

"In this year of remembrance and hope, we will wrap you in love and prayer by presenting you with a handmade blue and gold scarf. The scarves are a labor of love by knitters across the country and beyond, specifically for this year’s athletes. May the scarf warm your spirit as you maneuver a new city, as you carry the weight of a somber anniversary year, and as you look down 26.2 miles with resolve."

The love and goodwill are palpable as I am wrapped in my scarf, and as I walk away someone randomly hands me a tulip with a tag attached: "You're crushing it! #bostonstrong". I stop to photograph it and my companion points out a small peace sign that someone has crafted from pipe cleaners and fixed to the barricades that line this side of Boylston St in preparation for tomorrow's race: by chance we have stopped at the exact spot where the first bomb was detonated. 

Boston Strong, indeed.

The traditional pre-race party is on again at Beerworks, and there are familiar faces that I've met there three years in a row. Time flies and before I know it, it's almost 11pm and really I should be thinking about getting some sleep - but not before engineering a photo opportunity that is irresistible:

Dan, Joel, me and Greg: 2013 on the left, 2014 on the right.
Spot any differences??

Race Day

It seems almost too luxurious to sleep until 6am on the morning of a major marathon, but the 9:32am start does have some advantages. Once up I force down a bagel and some iced coffee, then dress and head down to the Fairmont Copley Plaza, where the elite buses await. Last year I was already in my race outfit at this point but this year I've wised up and am planning to change at the church - I've got all my stuff in the clear plastic check bag that every runner has been issued.

Half asleep but happy!

The ride out to Hopkinton is again extremely smooth and somewhat surreal, with motorcycle cops stopping traffic at every on-ramp in order to keep our passage uninterrupted. At the church I again head straight upstairs where it's warmer; this year I actually know a few people so it's a lot of fun to chat with them and wander around a bit. The Africans head out to do an easy warm-up and the rest of us lesser mortals feel compelled to do the same; as I jog slowly and rather pointlessly up and down the small street behind the church, Desi Linden (one of the top American seeded women) and Rita Jeptoo (last year's winner) both run past me. Wow!

Then to top it all off, on the way back into the church I pass Meb Keflezighi in the corridor. I seize the opportunity to wish him good luck and a great race; he's sweet and gracious, patting me on the shoulder as he wishes me the same in return. Then it's time to change and get ready to race - the top seeded women are called out by name and lined up to walk up to the corral. I humbly wait my turn before bringing up the rear as we head into the bright sunshine and the almost deafening noise from the spectators and, more importantly, the first corral.

There is a row of blokes lined up along the fence and one yells my name - we high-five each other as I pass and belatedly realise, that must have been Tyler from our sub-3 Facebook group?? Then I see Steven Moore - another of the INKnBURN elites - he's yelling in my face too so I grab his hand and yell back "Steve!!!" before finally I'm out in the open and WOW. The atmosphere is electric. I jog around a bit, do some strides and then just stand around in what can only be described as an overwhelmed stupor, before belatedly realising that I haven't bothered to turn on my Garmin and the race is 2 minutes from starting! Holy crap! Thankfully it fires up quickly and the announcer begins the countdown - I think I can hear someone bellowing my name from behind me, but there's no time left to look - here we go....


Miles 1-3: 6:08, 6:28, 6:12 (pace in minutes per mile)

The gun sounds and everyone sets off like their shoes are on fire. For the first half mile, as it was last year I am again in the middle of the pack, but the pace is noticeably much faster. Shalane Flanagan is leading the Africans out at a blistering pace; later I hear the first mile was covered in 5:11 pace. She has stated her intention of winning and it looks like she's giving it everything she's got.

ZOOOOM - there she goes

For me, though, this is clearly WAY too fast. I glance at my Garmin and practically pass out when I see it reading 5:20. Ok, back off, back off now. I put the brakes on so hard that mile 2 ends up actually slower than target, but this early in the race I know better than to worry too much. Just settle in and let it happen. I slug down my first gel and grab a cup of water to wash the sickly taste away. 


Miles 4-6: 6:13, 6:17, 6:13. 5K split 19:31

This pace feels....honest. That's the best way to describe it: tough yet manageable, for now. I have no expectation that any part of this race is going to feel easy - the old saying about how the first 10, or 13, or even 20 miles should be a cakewalk no longer applies to me. At this level it's supposed to feel tough, at some point it's going to hurt, and almost certainly at some point I'm going to want to throw in the towel. If none of that happens then I'm not running fast enough.

I'm actually leading a small group of women (so at least I'm not dead last) and running beside me is a woman I met briefly at the start. Her bib is F115 and her name is Sarah; I know she is shooting for 2:50ish and this pace is not too advisable for her. I've warned her several times of this fact, but she's determined to stick with me. We zoom over the 5K mats -- she laughs and comments "Now everyone at home knows what we're up to!" I picture online friends shaking their heads - or perhaps their fists - at their screens when they see my first split, and the thought makes me laugh too. Onward! I will later find she didn't finish the race - oops, hopefully that wasn't my fault.

It's a perfect running day but also warmer than I expected; I'm still wearing my gloves and so around mile 4 I peel them off and toss them at a spectator. The crowds are wonderful, vocal and excited - there are flags that read "Boston Strong!"  waving at me and kids lining up for high-fives. I veer to the side and oblige - I'm not likely to be wanting to do this later in the race, so might as well do it now.


Miles 7-9: 6:13, 6:20, 6:18. 10K split 39:02 (19:31)

The 10K split is more fuel for the fire of those who may be spectating online; oh well, I know Boston well enough now to know that going slightly too fast in the early miles is not a disaster. These miles take me past some interesting scenery and I'm feeling good enough that I am still able to take in and store small observations along the way; this ability will be lost later in the race. As we pass a small lake on the right I notice that the fire hydrants are painted in Boston yellow and blue - how awesome! And a sign grabs my attention, although the woman holding it looks like she's still setting up for the day; later it appears on Facebook in a friend's feed so I'm able to share what made me smile:

Thanks, Kate, for sharing, and Amy too!

Wait, what did you just call me?


Miles 10-12: 6:18, 6:25, 6:17. 15K split 58:40 (19:38)

Something is different about this race. Last year although I ran with 2 others through halfway, I barely saw any of the other elite women; this year, however, things are much less lonely. Between the 5 and 10K mats I've already lost most of the group that were with me early on (F115, F110 and F114 among them), but as 15K comes up two others have appeared just ahead of me. Playing "assassin mode" is always a great way of passing time - steadily and relentlessly reeling in the people ahead of you one by one - so I take advantage of the opportunity to focus on that. It makes sense: Shalane took everyone out incredibly fast, and now those who maybe couldn't control the urge to go with her as well as the rest of us are paying for it. I almost got caught up in it myself - perhaps I've finally learned my lesson about going out too fast? As if to confirm this, I easily pass F43 just before the 20K mats.

Somewhere around mile 12, Kristin just behind me. I'm not frowning....yet.

The Wellesley scream tunnel comes and goes with little fanfare and intact eardrums - no doubt because there are no guys around just yet - and that's fine with me.


Miles 13-15: 6:26, 6:22, 6:23.  20K split: 1:18:35 (19:55) 
HM split: 1:22:54

I'm still with it enough to do the mental math and realise that I'm well under the agreed-upon target for 13.1 miles, so I try to ease up as much as I can at this point. It's not hard to do, given that both the labels "tough" and "manageable" still apply to how things are feeling (the former slightly more than the latter), and also because I know that the Newton Hills are fast approaching. I've passed Kristin (F106) now, and F48 is only 6 seconds ahead and firmly in my crosshairs. I will get her in the hills - my silly Roadrunner shuffle is even more efficient going uphill - and this knowledge is a boost as I head into the toughest part of the course.


Miles 16-18: 6:15, 6:29, 6:32  25K split: 1:38:27 (19:53)

Here's a screenshot of the elevation profile for the course from Hopkinton to Boylston St:

It's fairly obvious that the first half is considerably downhill, and then the torture starts around the 16 mile mark as the Newton Hills make their presence felt. The uphills have affected me differently every time I've run Boston; this year I cruise over the first one feeling pretty great, but miles 17 and 18 hit me hard. My pace drops below target for the first time since mile 2 -- I'm expecting this, but still it's very unpleasant. I'd rather like to stop running now, but that's not negotiable. Thankfully a bike spotter choses this moment to appear beside me, and my attention is diverted by the experience I know is coming soon: I'm going to see the lead men go past me.


Miles 19-21: 6:17, 6:28, 6:42 30K split: 1:58:38 (20:11)

Mile 19 starts and I'm still able to run the tangents, which is pleasing, but I know I'm going to have to stay right pretty soon. Sure enough, a procession of vehicles begin to pass me when I start hugging the right hand curb, and it's both thrilling and slightly nerve-wracking. I'm running as hard as I can whilst looking over my shoulder, watching for the pack of Africans that I'm expecting to sweep past me any moment, and as the final truck comes by I look left again.....and do a massive double-take. It's Meb!! And not only that - he is totally alone - where on earth is the lead pack??

Seeing him running alone and obviously so far ahead is like a massive adrenaline surge directly to my brain and without even thinking about it I go straight into dippy fan-girl mode: I'm clapping like a maniac and screaming "MEB!! GO MEB!! YEAH YEAH WOOOOO!!!!" with every molecule of oxygen in my lungs. If you don't believe me, see below (with many thanks to jcboston from RWOL for sending me the link).....oh and you have to watch all the way to the finish.....

After he passes and I'm done with my fan-girl hysteria, I'm waiting for the Africans to come chasing him. I wait...and wait...looking over my left shoulder more than once....but it's well over a minute until a tight group of 5 finally comes flying past. Oh my god, Meb is going to win! Well, I hope so - he has a big lead now, but who knows what will happen down the track? I'd like to consider this more, but then Heartbreak Hill swallows me whole and I have no spare brain cells to use.

This final hill is just...horrible. All of a sudden I really, really want to simply stop in my tracks. I consider it quite seriously - how hard would it be to just step to the side and say I'm done? - before telling myself firmly, NO. "This is Boston," I tell myself sternly, "and you do NOT GIVE UP." Right, right, I sigh back. Now we've got that straightened out, just get to the top of this ridiculous hill. I'm not even looking at my Garmin anymore, I just want to get over the top and start the 5 painful miles that remain. I pass F42 and see F45 still ahead - keep it going, Rachel. Do. Not. Give. Up.


Miles 22-24: 6:26, 6:18, 6:22 35K split 2:19:04 (20:26)

I'm more than happy to see my Garmin showing some paces that are closer to my goal again, as I pound my way through the downhills that take the course into Brookline and ever closer to Boylston St. I sail past another two elite females (F45, then F38 - who looks like she's toast, but to her credit she's waving her arms to amp up the crowd and seems to be having fun still) and look up to see not one but two distinctively female runners ahead.

Passing and frowning all at once. You'd think I'd be happier about this...but no.

This will consume me for the remainder of the race; the chant of "This is Boston. Do not give up." will take up half my brainpower, the goal of catching those women will take up the rest. In the moments that remain I will also think of the people who lost their lives and limbs in the finish line bombings last year - I have passed many amputees throughout the race and it's a stark reminder of that awful day. They are out here doing it so I have absolutely no right to even consider stopping, although I'd love to. I owe it to them to keep running and so that's what I do. Not negotiable.

Miles 25 & 26: 6:31, 6:33 40K split: 2:39:04 (20:00)

I catch up to F44, a Japanese woman, who clearly doesn't like this at all and she immediately pulls ahead again. I realise all of a sudden that the next woman ahead is F112: Lisa, the Canadian triathlete whom I beat for 5th Master last year. She must have gone out hard, and it's taken me at least 2, maybe 3 miles to catch her, because I've been seeing her back for quite a while now. By the 40K mats we are just 3 seconds apart, and a spectating friend takes this photo as we grind past - both looking suitably unimpressed with the current situation.

Mid-life crisis? No, this is how we planned to spend our mid-forties, really.

Again I've given up looking at my Garmin - with the finish so close, I really don't care how fast I'm going, I just want to get there. F44 pulls further ahead as we dip below the infamous underpass at mile 25.5, and I hear someone scream "Rachel!!" from the side of the road - did I just pass Cannoli Corner? I'm 0 for 3 when it comes to cannoli, but maybe one of these years I'll be inclined to stop.

Rounding the corner up Hereford towards the final turn onto Boylston St, Lisa has gone ahead and I don't have enough energy left to care. The crowds are 10-deep on either side of the road and the noise is deafening, but I can barely hear it. My legs are screaming at me to get this over, and I'm not even bothering to disguise the torture that I'm feeling: it's obvious and all over my face.

Ugh, are we there yet?

Boylston St: 5:49 pace to the finish

Burning down Boylston, I know better than to expect the finish line to be close. It's oh so far away, but as I grit my teeth and pump my arms it draws rapidly closer. Lisa is out of striking range and I wouldn't be able to get her even if she was: it's taking every ounce of determination and concentration for me to keep my legs moving now. I stare stupidly at the clock as I approach the finish - it's about to come up to 2:20 - how many minutes do I add, again?

For a second my addled brain gets it completely wrong and tells me "that's 2:52", and I can't quite figure how that could have happened, but thankfully then some other part of my brain yells WHO CARES?? Just get there! so I put my head down and sprint. As I cross the finish line I manage to hit the stop button and when I look at my Garmin: 2:47:57. YES!!!

Finish time: 2:47:57 (6:25 pace)

Placement: 42nd OA female, 5th in AG (F40-44) and 6th Masters female.

The Aftermath

Lisa has gotten me by 10 seconds - a fitting return serve after last year, I guess! We are both quickly joined by volunteers very solicitous of our well-being; we each get one who puts his arm around our shoulders and guides us gently but firmly  - and rather quickly - towards the VIP tent. The events of mile 19 flash back into my mind and I demand of my guide "Who won?" The reply stuns and delights me: it was Meb! First American winner since 1983! 

In the VIP tent I chat briefly with Lisa, who it turns out was gunning for 2:45 (no wonder she beat me!) and a few of the other women there, before putting my name down for a massage. I have felt a few weird, unprecedented cramps in my calf muscles in the final few miles - more evidence that I was truly red-lining it in the closing stages of the race - and it can't hurt to get them pummelled for free. One of my other friends from last year, Perry, shows up and together we drink Gatorade and chat. It's the perfect end to a fantastic race - there's only one thing that is still missing, but that's soon fixed after a trip back to the hotel for a quick shower and some fresh clothes.....

Beer! And a noisy Pom.

The Analysis 

Comparing my splits from 2013 and 2014 proves very interesting. 

Essentially, I was 30 seconds ahead by the 15K mark this year, and I stayed 20-30 seconds ahead all the way through 35K. Between 35 and 40K I gained at least another 20 seconds and the rest of it (making up 66 seconds in total for my new PR) came in the final 2.2km. Not only was I able to go slightly faster, I was MUCH better able to hold that pace in the second half of the race. It's a pleasant confirmation of what I already knew: my training has been vastly improved with Benita's direction.

Where to now? I declared shortly after crossing the finish line that I'm done chasing marathon PRs now, and that may yet be true. I'm not going to race another marathon until probably Melbourne this October, but in between I'm going to see how much fun I can have with the shorter distances. Starting with one every weekend in May.....did someone say "Raceaholic"? You heard it here first!