The Road Back to Running

California International Marathon, December 2011

2011-12-01T21:39:00.000-08:00

A year ago I had no idea what the letters CIM stood for. I saw it referred to time and again on MRT (the Marathon Race Training forum on RWOL) but never bothered figuring out what it meant until one of my online friends announced that she was thinking of running it in 2011.

Turns out CIM stands for the California International Marathon, which is held in Sacramento at the beginning of December each year. It is well-known as a FAST marathon course on account of its net elevation loss: it rolls at the start but the overall effect is very much downhill and it's a popular place for runners to try for a time that will qualify them for Boston or, for the super-talented, the Olympic trials.

At the time this came up it was only 4 weeks since I ran the Canberra marathon, and soon my mind was thinking it over....hmmm....actually, CIM might be a very good course for me to have a tilt at running sub-3:10. It didn't take much more prodding from my online friend before I signed up to run CIM in 2011.

The training

The original plan was some kind of Pfitzinger pain-fest involving at least 70 miles per week (112km) but this was significantly derailed by a host of minor injuries that took me off the road most of July and August. After my slightly insane return to racing in September (see here and here) I reeled things in for a week and then cautiously (well, for me at least) embarked upon rebuilding my mileage to a point where I could jump into a proper marathon training program.

I started off following an 11 week multiple-marathon plan, which meant a slow buildup (which I needed) but a decent peak as well. I decided in a moment of rationality to leave out the speedwork, and then ended up pretty much making it all up as I went along anyway.

The result was a 3 week build-up, 7 weeks of decent mileage peaking at 72mpw, then a 2 week taper. The middle 7 weeks averaged 59mpw and the longest run was 22 miles, so despite the slightly haphazard nature of the whole thing, I felt relatively happy with my preparation as I got ready to hop on a plane to California. Oh, and the 10K PR I set in November didn't hurt either!

The travel

Never one to pass up the opportunity for international travel sans children, I settled in and thoroughly enjoyed every minute of the flight to LA and then on to San Francisco, despite the hopeless movie selection.

my ride to LA

The A380 is an incredible aircraft and my window seat and comfy pillow - plus a judicious amount of sleeping pharmacopeia - meant I managed to get almost 8 hours sleep on the way to LA. Hopefully that would set me up well to cope with jetlag over the 2.5 days until I had to be fronting up to run CIM.

The lead-up

Once in Sacramento I had the great pleasure of meeting up with a whole host of imaginary friends from MRT, which made for an entertaining and enjoyable 2 day lead-up to the marathon.

With Weslie and Annette from the BQ ladies' thread

The night before the race was one of the highlights: a huge group of MRT runners gathered at the Old Spaghetti Factory to eat pasta and talk running, and this meant another 8 or so imaginary friends became real friends, which was totally awesome.

Over dinner I spent a lot of time talking with Ron, a very experienced (and fast) marathoner who gave me a LOT of helpful advice about the course, and when I told him my recent 10K race time, said (very accurately, it turns out) that 3:08 was a soft goal for me.

Another highlight was the running partner I managed to acquire on Friday morning as I stood outside the hotel, waiting for my Garmin to load up the satellites in the frustratingly slow manner it always does when I move the poor thing thousands of miles to another continent.

I was standing there with my arm stuck out when a foreign voice said "You go running with me?" I looked over and saw a woman whom I remembered seeing the night before when I was checking in - small and wiry, with a shock of blonde hair - she was smiling encouragingly at me and clearly really wanted someone to run with her. I ummed and ahhed a bit, then thought "Why not?", gave up on the Garmin and off we went. I immediately asked her about her time goal for the race on Sunday, and almost fell off the kerb when she casually replied, "Oh, 2:48".

Turns out my running buddy was Alina Gherasim, a Romanian professional runner who competed in the Sydney Olympics in 2000 (I probably saw her run past on Oxford St) and was the female winner at CIM in 2006! She is not only my age but also has a daughter almost the same age as mine, so we chatted happily as we ran along at her "easy" pace, which turned out to be 7:24 min/mile or so - I checked when my Garmin finally figured itself out! - for almost an hour. So my easy 5 miler turned into something more like a 7-8 mile mini-tempo run, but it was absolutely worth it to run with a former Olympian. And the stories she had to tell about her life as a professional runner - SO thrilling!

Race Day

Getting up at 4am on Sunday morning is quite the challenge, but my roomie Weslie is up already at 3:45am and she kindly brings me a white bagel from downstairs, which I sleepily eat as I drag my race clothes on. I'm wearing a LOT of my lucky racing colour - pink - and it turns out to be a great omen for the day.

Downstairs we meet up with two other friends from MRT and together we head out into the cold - thankfully the wind has died down completely overnight but it's still a chilly 38F or so - and are soon aboard a toasty warm school bus, headed for the start line at Folsom. It takes a disturbingly long time to actually get there, and we are all thinking "We have to run ALL THAT WAY back?? Really??" but once we hit the start area there isn't much time to stand around and think.

I down a vanilla GU, line up for the porta-potties, drop off my bag....and suddenly the start is almost upon us. I position myself close to the 3:10 pace group; the gun goes off and it takes about 30 seconds to get moving, but then I'm off and running. YEAH!

Miles 1-2: 7:18, 7:10 (pace in min/mile)

A lot of zigzagging gets me through the worst of the congestion, but the 3:10 pace group is HUGE and pretty early on I decide I don't want to risk hanging around amongst all these dudes and possibly getting tripped up or slowed down. So I thread my way forward and position myself right next to the 3:10 pacer, who is chatting and encouraging the runners in his group. I introduce myself, turns out his name is Mike, and we run along talking comfortably for the next 6 miles. Pace feels nice and easy at this point.

Miles 3-4: 7:10, 7:05

I'm following the advice I've been given on MRT and deliberately not charging the hills, which are small but consistent: the "rollers" I have heard so much about are definitely there. Other than that, I'm too busy yapping to Mike about running in Australia to notice much else.

Miles 5-6: 7:16, 7:05

A bit of pace variation here, but I'm not worried. I start to pull a little ahead of Mike at this point, but I can still hear him right behind me talking to others. There's a dude ahead of me with a red shirt on and some quite distinctive logo on it - something about San Francisco and a bridge - he seems to be running about my pace so I start talking to him and ask him his time goal. He replies with "3:10 or a little under" - I tell him cool, that's my goal too! - and we run together for the next 10 miles.

Miles 7-8: 7:03, 7:07

Sean (the red shirt dude) and I are just loping along here, talking a bit and enjoying the run. It's a PERFECT running day, a little warmer now that the sun is up, but still cool enough that I'm very comfortable in my arm warmers (old knee socks with holes cut in the toes) and gloves. I take my first GU (vanilla, the magic type) just before the water station around mile 8, and I'm still feeling awesome.

Miles 9-10: 7:07, 7:01

The crowd support is a little sporadic, but where there are people there is certainly a lot of yelling. I feel very comfortable, and am hearing a lot of "Go Pink!" and "Looking strong there in pink!", which I'm totally lapping up (of course) - I'm waving to all kinds of random people and calling out "Thank you!" a lot. Is marathoning supposed to be this much fun?

Miles 11-12: 7:07, 7:10

Can't remember much about this bit. Pace is still feeling really good; I'm just loving it. And I'm still talking quite a bit to Sean about goodness knows what. We go past some photographers and I do my very best to strike a cute pose; I'm wearing pink after all and the photogs are yelling out "Runner's World! Come on, guys!" - who could pass up an opportunity to be in RW, seriously??

Having waaaaay too much fun!

Miles 13-14: 7:04, 7:00

We go through the half in 1:34 exactly on the clock; later I find my official half time is 1:33:26, so it must have taken me 34 seconds to cross the line. I'm pretty thrilled with this - it means I'm exactly on track for the 3:08 that I'm aiming for, and if I can negative split then I'm on track for something even better. Awesome! I throw my gloves at a spectator (“Dude, you want some gloves?? Here!”), take another GU and do a little victory dance in my head. First half well-executed; second half awaits.

Miles 15-16: 7:13, 7:05

Around mile 15 something totally fantastic happens. I'm just cruising along quite comfortably when suddenly I hear someone SCREAMING my name and look over to see a very excited person jumping up and down and waving at me. What ON EARTH?? I automatically grin and wave back, whilst trying madly to figure out who it could be and how they know my name - and as I pass her I realise, OMG it's one of my imaginary MRT friends whom I haven't met in person yet!!!

So I turn back and yell "PAM!!! HI!!!!!!" and then my momentum carries me onward and I'm gone....but her excitement is contagious and I'm grinning crazily for the next few miles at least as I keep running. A big THANK YOU to Pam Kennedy for making the drive up from SF to be a part of this awesome day with me!

Miles 17-18: 7:06, 7:10

By now I've pulled ahead of Sean and I'm pretty much running on my own at times. At the 18 mile mark I realise, wow, I've only got 8 miles to go and I feel pretty much as good as I did at the beginning of this marathon. Maybe it's time to push a little harder - the rollers are well behind me now and I know it's pretty much all flat or downhill from here.

Miles 19-20: 7:07, 7:07

Considering how late it is in the race, I'm happy to be able to hold 7:07 pace fairly consistently at this point. I keep telling myself not to cut loose altogether, and it seems to be working. Time for another vanilla GU at mile 20 - that stuff is even starting to taste goooood!

Miles 21-22: 7:07, 7:06

Okay. Right now I'm telling myself "2 more miles at a comfortable pace, then it's GO time, girl". My definition of "comfortable" right now means "not killing me", and I'm certainly feeling good still, although my quads are starting to feel like they actually did just run over 20 miles. Nothing to worry about, though; I still have fuel in the tank, for sure. Enough to be still striking silly poses at the photographers along the course:

Miles 23-24: 6:53, 7:00

Time to drop the hammer. I think back to the "assassin-mode" that I know some of my friends on MRT use over the final miles - pick a person ahead of you and make it your goal to pass them - it's a term I think was coined by one of the people on MRT that I respect most. So I think "Yep, time to go into assassin mode", put my foot on the accelerator and start passing people. Man, it feels good.

Miles 25-26: 6:44, 6:28

I'm really going for it now. I concentrate on keeping my head up, shoulders down, and swinging my arms the way my PT guy (god bless him) taught me. I hear Audra and Barb (two of my former-imaginary-now-real MRT friends) yelling encouragement at me but I'm going too fast to do much more than wave and yell "Wheeeeeeeeeee!" before I'm gone past them. I'm passing people all over the place now - some obviously in pain and struggling - but I feel GREAT. Onward!!

Final 0.2: 5:48

I'm sprinting all-out after I pass the Mile 26 banner. A guy in yellow - whom I have just passed - races past me again but then blows up completely and stops. I snigger to myself as I shoot past (just chicked him, poor thing) and make the final turn into the women's finish chute - strange that they separate men and women, but whatever - I look up and see the clock reading 3:05.

photo courtesy of Steve, ultrarunner and all-round awesome dude

Oh. My. God. I put my head down, charge for the line and make it over before the clock hits 3:06. OH YEAH BABY!!

Finish time: official chip time is 3:05:13, pace 7:04 min/mile - a 7 minute PR and without a doubt the smartest race I've ever run in my life.

Placings: F40-44 AG 22nd/444

Females 108th/2484

Overall 467th/5755

My splits for the 2 halves of the race are 1:33:26 and 1:31:47, so a 1:39 negative split - and that means I've achieved just about everything I set out to do at CIM, as well as have the most fun weekend of running of my life.

note Australian flag on left shoulder

Aftermath

Unlike other races where I've felt like death as I cross the line, this time I feel really good. No wobbling around, none of that. I see Pam again and go over for high-fives and hugs from her and Steve, another incredible runner and MRT friend. Soon I'm joined by two others who have each run a PR (personal record), one by a whole 10 minutes. This particular friend was sick in the days leading up to the race and I am actually standing there considering checking the medical tent for him when he grabs me and it turns out he's run a 3:10, a time he never imagined was possible for him. Other friends arrive with similar stories - it's PRs all-round for my MRT crowd. AWESOME!!!

I also spot Mike, the 3:10 pacer, and go over to thank him for running with me those first 6 miles. He did a great job - ran 3:09:something - and he congratulates me warmly on my time. Runners are such great people, did I mention that?

The first priority is to get a shower and get changed, so we walk over to the hotel to do that, but then all thoughts turn to BEER and FOOD. We head to the Pyramid Alehouse and sit a long time over burgers, fries and beers, and the company is just as good as the refuelling process itself.

Awesomeness in human form: the post-race crowd at Pyramid Alehouse

The analysis

I'm really pleased with how I executed my race plan - it went almost EXACTLY as I wanted it to - and of course totally thrilled with my new marathon PR. CIM is certainly a great course to run a fast time, many other courses are much harder, but the big lesson I have learned is NOT TO GO OUT TOO FAST. Surprising that it took me this long, but I never said that listening was my strong suit.

The most exciting thing is that now I can really see how my training has paid off, and for the first time I'm thinking that one day I may indeed run a sub-3 marathon. The other thing I'm thinking may be more difficult, which is that I now need to convince my husband to move to the United States. That may take more time than the sub-3, but I'm certainly going to be working on both goals in the near future.

Next up? Boston 2012! It’s very sad to say goodbye to so many great running buddies as I prepare to make the long trip home, but on the other hand my parting words to many of them are “See you in Boston!” and that feels really, REALLY great.

Run4Fun, Sydney Olympic Park, November 2011

2011-11-10T17:33:00.000-08:00

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

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

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

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

The Training

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

Race Day

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

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

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

Mile 1: 6:08 (min/mile)

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

Mile 2: 6:19

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

Mile 3: 6:14

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

Mile 4: 6:22

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

Mile 5: 6:24

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

Mile 6: 6:08

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

Last 0.2 mile: 6:01 pace

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

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

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

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

The Analysis

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

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

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

Blackmores Sydney HM, Sept 2011

2011-10-02T03:09:00.001-07:00

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

The training

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

Race day

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miles 3-4: 6:58

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

Miles 5-6: 6:46

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

Miles 7-8: 7:12

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

Best running photo EVER!!

Miles 9-10: 7:04

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

Miles 11-12: 7:09

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

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

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

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

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

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

Analysis

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

Lake to Lagoon Fun Run, September 2011

2011-09-22T03:02:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

The training

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

Race Day

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

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

That's me in pink on the left.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh yeah baby. Downhill is the way to go!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finish stretch: 5:27 (8:39)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Analysis

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

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

ODDyssey HM, Philadelphia May 2011

2011-06-01T22:12:00.000-07:00

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

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

The training

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

The travel

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

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

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

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

Race day

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miles 3-4: 6:41

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

Miles 5-6: 6:39

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

Miles 7-8: 6:37

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

Miles 9-10: 6:44

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

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

Miles 11-12: 6:51

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

Mile 13.1: 7:03

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

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

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

Bonus extras

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

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

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

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

Canberra Marathon April 2011

2011-04-10T01:53:00.000-07:00

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

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

The training

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

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

Race day

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

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

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

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

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

The race

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

Miles 1-2: 6:58

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

Miles 3-4: 7:09

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

Miles 5-6: 7:02

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

Miles 7-8: 7:03

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

Miles 9-10: 7:10

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

Miles 11-12: 7:12

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

Miles 13-14: 7:10

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

Miles 15-16: 7:12

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

Miles 17-18: 7:20

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

Miles 19-20: 7:25

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

Miles 21-22: 7:35

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

Miles 23-24: 7:22

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

Miles 25-26.2: 7:47

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

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

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

The analysis

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

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

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

New York Marathon November 2010

2011-04-01T03:12:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

The training

18 weeks, Hal Higdon's Advanced II plan.

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

The travel

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

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

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

Race day

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

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

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

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

Miles 3-4: 7:02

Obviously not listening to myself at this point.

Miles 5-6: 7:08

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

Miles 7-8: 7:11

Miles 9-10: 7:15

Miles 11-12: 7:23

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

Miles 13-14: 7:10

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

Miles 15-16: 7:24

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

Miles 17-18: 7:01

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

Miles 19-20: 7:23

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

Miles 21-22: 7:39

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

Miles 23-24: 7:30

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

Mile 25-26.2: 7:22

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

The aftermath

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

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

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

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

Running in Wagga

2011-03-27T02:36:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1) Never, ever underestimate the competition;

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

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

SMH Half-Marathon May 2010

2011-03-23T02:50:00.000-07:00

In planning my strategy to once again break 1:30, I followed the advice of a marathoning friend and decided to follow a formal training plan for the very first time. I can't remember how I settled upon Hal Higdon, it may well have been by Googling "half marathon training plan" (very scientific) but however it happened, it was a great fit.

I chose his most advanced half-marathon program and soon found myself running long runs of up to 2 hours on Sundays, with shorter easy runs during the week and a variety of speed workouts thrown in for good measure. In retrospect, it wasn't a tough program, but I did find myself improving my paces throughout the training.

At the end of the 12 weeks I found myself once again lining up for the same race which had been my debut half marathon in 2001, but a lot had changed in the 9 years since I ran that course in 1:26:24. The start was in a completely different place - much more convenient, actually - and although there were some small alterations to the actual route, it was still 2 laps through the Sydney CBD with a murderous ascent up Hunter St during the final 5km of each.

Once again I travelled up to Sydney the day before the race, but this time with a very excited 3 year old son in tow. We spent Saturday riding around on public transport (heaven for small boys) and ate an early dinner with Pop and Nona before retiring to our hotel, where DS wriggled and kicked and was generally too overexcited to fall asleep until we had been lying on his bed together for at least an hour. Thankfully there was another bed for me to creep into and get a much better sleep than I would have if we had shared one all night!

The day of the race was beautiful, crisp autumn air and a bright blue sky. We walked up to the start and were met by Pop, who had been drafted to babysit for the duration of the race. This was when I started to feel quite emotional, in large part because I had used my time from the previous September to get preferred runner status for this race. I had been given preferred runner status for 2002 but had then been so badly injured and was devastated to miss out on taking up the offer. Now, I was finally getting to enjoy what I had first earned so many years ago - warming up out front, lining up behind the elite runners - and it felt GREAT!

The gun went off and I was running at what felt like a comfortable pace, not too fast - so I was surprised to find myself going through the 5km mark in under 20 minutes - 19:51, to be exact. I was definitely off to a good start!

I stayed fairly well on pace even despite the Hunter St hill to finish the next 5km in 20:16, and hear the announcer saying "These people are on pace for an 85-86 minute finish" as I made the turn to start lap number 2. That sounded pretty good to me - but could I hold the pace?

At first the answer was yes: I ran the 3rd 5km in 20:53.......but then I hit Hunter St for the second time around.

Groan - it was awful - and my pace took a huge hit. Around me people were stopping, walking, looking like death. I felt like joining them, but made it to the top of the hill still running and was relieved to turn down into the Domain for the last 4km. My split for the 15km-20km section was a shocking 23:19, almost 3.5 minutes slower than my first 5K split. As we rounded Lady Macquarie's Chair and headed up the final hill to the finish, I heard someone yelling to his friends "We have to pick it up if we're going to break 90 minutes, come on!".

This was like a red rag to a bull. I put my head down, ignored the protest from my legs and lungs, and ramped it up as far as I could. I rounded the final corner and went into the chute like I was being chased, crossing the line in 1:29:48 with a huge beaming smile: I did it!! Not much under 90 minutes, but under just the same.

It would be the only time in 2010 that I would run a half in under 90 minutes, but that was in part due to another, new goal: the full marathon.

Watch this space......

2009 - another comeback, or maybe not.

2011-03-22T02:54:00.000-07:00

Towards the end of 2007, I had really made a strong comeback to running. But other priorities were weighing on my mind, namely the idea of expanding our family. I have never been one to listen too carefully to the ticking of my biological clock, but on the other hand I had always wanted 2 children and I figured, why not get it all over with sooner rather than later??

The first thing this meant was running less. I somewhat reluctantly eased back on the mileage during November and December, and was rewarded in January (on the day before my birthday) with a positive pregnancy test that heralded the September arrival of our small daughter. As with my first pregnancy, I ran most days right up to the end. In fact, I was only dissuaded from running in a local 6 mile fun run the day before my scheduled C-section by the horrified look my obstetrician gave me when I mentioned that I might do it. I did run 10km - privately - that day just to make my point that it would have been fine!

For various reasons I decided not to push the running until I was done with breastfeeding this time around, and of course small daughter decided that bottles were just too YUCK to be tolerated, so this put me out of racing for a full 12 months after she was born.

Because I'm me, though, I did enter and train for (in a haphazard sort of fashion) the Blackmores Sydney Half-Marathon in September 2009. Before my injury and for my return to racing in 2007, I had never followed a proper training plan and really hadn't bothered to run particularly long runs during training. I had just done whatever I felt like on the day, covered a variety of distances, and had never formally done any speedwork. Somehow this had never seemed to hold me back......until now.

The day of the race was bright and clear. I had travelled up to Sydney the night before the race, my first night away from the children in, um, ever. But despite the lack of disturbance - or perhaps because of it - I had an awful night's sleep before the race. And I was still coughing a bit from a cold that had gone on most of the winter, on and off, courtesy of my germ vector son. But I thought, whatever, I'll be fine. The 2007 race had been the scene of my PR since returning to racing, so I was confident I could run a similar time. Or so I thought.

The start was self-seeded (which I always hate) and although I lined up in the appropriate place, I was there with many over-optimistic runners who made the first mile or so an obstacle course for those who belonged up the front. Never mind, by the time we were heading across the Harbour Bridge the crowd had thinned somewhat and I was hitting my stride.

I ran the first 5km in 20:14 and the next in 20:43, putting myself on pace for a sub 1:28 finish. So far, all seemed to be going excellently well.....but then the wheels began to threaten to fall off.

By the 15km mark I had slowed to a 21:55 split. I held myself on the same pace (around 6:55 min/mile) for a 21:40 split at the 20km mark, but then the unthinkable happened. I got passed by the 90 minute pacers. SHOCK HORROR!

Even if I hadn't just taken a major hit on my confidence, I had nothing left in my legs to go after them. In fact, my pace over the final 1.2km took a nosedive down to 4:40 min/km (7:27 min/mile) from my initial 4:02 (6:28 min/mile). Crossing the finish line, my legs almost went from under me and in the video footage - which I am not going to share - I can be seen wavering off to one side, unable to even walk in a straight line. Needless to say, a major re-think of my training strategy appeared to be in order.

My official finish time was 1:30:39, good enough for 8th in my AG and 26th female overall. But for me, to have lost 3 minutes in speed over only 2 years - after losing just 90 seconds between 2001 and 2007 - was a huge blow. Whether it was the after-effects of another pregnancy, the lingering cold or just a sign that I was now 2 years closer to middle age, I will never know. Off I went home, to think about things and plot my next move. Pretty soon it was obvious: 2010 was going to be The Year of The Plan.

Running Around The World

2011-03-17T03:46:00.001-07:00

The year in Edinburgh marked my return to both recreational and competitive running. It had been 5 years since I had raced AT ALL, but once I was back into my stride, I found myself raring to go. The UK has a large and active running community with plenty of race opportunities, and it was a great pleasure for me to take advantage of this whilst we were living in Scotland.

The first race I took part in was a 10 miler at Dundee, Perthshire, in early November 2006. My baby son was still tiny but I had made a strong return to running and managed to clock a time of 74:25, which pleased me no end. The weather was great for running - about 10C/50F and overcast - a typical Scottish day, in fact. If only their summer would have actually had some warm weather, I might have never wanted to come home again.....

Next up was another 10 mile road race, organised by the Lasswade Athletic Club. It took place near Edinburgh but on the other side of the UK winter, in early March 2007. Despite the season officially being spring, it was only 4C/39F at the start - I was freezing.

DH was waiting to take my photo at the finish but I surprised him by taking almost 6 minutes off my Templeton time, finishing in 68:38. DS was also waiting for me, all rugged up but glad to see his running Mama again.

The running season started for real in April. My first half-marathon since my big injury took place on April 1st in Edinburgh: the Forthside Half Marathon. It started near Leith in the northern part of Edinburgh and wound along the Forth of Firth, a picturesque and mercifully flat course.

I was thrilled to finish with a time of 1:27:01, only 90 seconds slower than my last pre-injury half in 2001 - and I won my age group! What a pity my small son was too impatient to allow me to stick around for the presentation........

The next two races were part of the Great Run series - these are held all over the UK and we participated in both the Great Ireland and Great Edinburgh Runs during our year in Scotland.

The Great Ireland Run - on April 15 2007 - was the perfect opportunity to pop over to Dublin for the weekend. I enjoyed the run although it did not start until 1pm, which was the latest I have ever started a race, and meant that it was uncomfortably warm by the finish (only by UK standards, not Australian!) I ran it in 41:04 and managed to come 2nd in my age group, a fact I was unaware of until they sent me my prize a few weeks later: a Nike heart rate monitor. Cool!

The Great Edinburgh Run took place on 6 May 2007 and was a very different experience. I was nervous at the start because I was seeded in a very fast group and I knew that my usual strategy of starting relatively slowly would put me very quickly at the back of the pack. I did not want to feel (or look) like an imposter, so I was feeling both apprehensive and reluctant as I lined up right up the front.

The weather was sunny and the course took in many of the historic sights of Edinburgh, but like the rest of the record number of entrants, I was too busy fighting the monstrous headwind to take much notice of the scenery......

.......like the spectacular sight of the Castle as we rounded the corner onto Princes St.......

.....or the beautiful Palace of Holyroodhouse, where Mary Queen of Scots lived in 1561 and where the current Queen officially resides when she ventures up north.

Still, I ran the windy 10K in 42:17, which to my great surprise was again enough to come 2nd in my age group and become the happy recipient of a Nike watch several weeks later. Awesome!

Somehow, 3 weeks later I was roped into being part of the Hairy Haggis Team Relay at the Edinburgh Marathon - this may have been my husband's doing, actually - and in freezing rain and howling wind (yes, spring in Edinburgh, ha ha) I ran my 9 mile leg in exactly 1 hour.

The full marathon entrants were all running at their marathon pace, so I spent the entire run zig-zagging madly around other runners; as a result my Garmin thought I had run almost half a mile further than the official distance!

In late June 2007 we drove to Glasgow for me to run the East Kilbride half-marathon. Once again, a fairly flat course made for quick times and I finished in 1:27:49. Here I am valiantly holding off a bloke who had been trying to pass me for at least the last 2 miles. Sucker!

In the end I was the third female finisher and won £100. Who knew that running in the UK could be so rewarding?!

We returned to Australia mid-August 2007 and I was happy to be able to make up for my disappointment at missing the City to Surf (yet again) by entering the half-marathon that was a part of the Blackmores Sydney Running Festival in September.

The day of the run dawned bright and clear, but at 6:30am (the official start time) it was pretty darn cold. My Scottish experience had hardened me to such things, though, and for me the running conditions were perfect. Despite self-seeding options at the start, many people ahead of me were none too fast and the start was therefore quite frustrating as I found myself constantly having to side-step and avoid slower runners. Pretty soon though we were heading across the Harbour Bridge and the crowd began to thin out.

As with so many of my overseas races and runs, this half-marathon took in some of the most famous and iconic Sydney landmarks, from the start beneath the Harbour Bridge (which we crossed in the first 2km) to the finish in front of the Opera House.

In a fitting return to the country where my love of running began, I finished the race in 1:27:02 (1:27 appears to be my lucky running number for 2007) and came 3rd in my age group.

It felt wonderful to be home again and back in top running form. I had proven my pessimistic ortho boss wrong and was every bit the competitive runner I thought might never return.

But there was more to life now than just running, and I was about to voluntarily put things on a type of hold again.......a much better type of hold.

Run Baby Run

2011-03-17T03:41:00.000-07:00

This is, of course, primarily a running blog, but it would be incomplete without an ode to how much I love the internet. Up until that day in December 2005 - as I sat staring wide-eyed at that positive pregnancy test - the internet had been useful to me chiefly for study/work and for emailing far-flung friends. This was all about to change, but in a very cool way.

I was going to say that the first thing I did when the shock wore off was to Google "running pregnant", but on reflection I think I did one other thing first, which was to take the photo that appears at the bottom of the post below this one and email it to my now-fiance, with the subject title "DO NOT OPEN THIS EMAIL UNTIL YOU ARE ON THE PHONE TO ME". He of course ignored this advice.....but that's another story altogether.

The second thing, then, that I did was to type "running pregnant" into my browser - I had only just gotten back out there, really, and although actually quite pleased to be expecting (in an "ok, well, I guess I wanted to do this sometime, why not now?" kind of a way) I was absolutely aghast at the idea of not being allowed to run for 9 more months.

The Google search led me to this website and this sounds awfully trite, but it totally changed my life. Not only was I allowed to keep running, I found I was not the only woman who wanted to keep exercising while pregnant. I kept going and even ran an 8km race for Mothers' Day 2006 - 26 weeks pregnant at the time - and managed to still beat a certain competitive husband although my time was obviously far from my best!

(said husband formally retired from racing against me about 10 weeks later, after beating me home for the first time on a weekend morning run, retiring of course as the reigning champion.)

Ultimately I found myself posting on a thread called "Third Trimester Runners" (yes, really) and this led to a particularly 21st century phenomenon: internet friendships, or Imaginary Friends as I like to call them.

Although there were quite a few people posting on that thread, over time we became a group of just 6 and as our babies were born and we each found our way back to running, we became a kind of mothers' group to each other: daily posts about sleeping (or lack thereof), feeding and baby milestones became as common as posts about how far we were running. For me, having stopped work, had a baby and moved overseas - away from all my family and friends - all in the space of 6 weeks, these imaginary friends were very real, and an absolute lifeline of support and encouragement.

All this led in 2007 - when our babies were all around 7 months old - to a very memorable first meeting in Washington, DC (since everyone bar me was American and I was more than happy to travel over from the UK!) where we also ran a 10K race together.

That race was memorable for me in another way: it was the scene of my all-time 10K PR, 39:54.

Maybe I will better that time in May 2011, when I am planning to run the same race again, but maybe not. What I'm sure of is that at least some of my imaginary running friends - both old and new - will be there to share the day with me again, and that they will still be my friends when our babies and grandbabies are the ones doing the running....we'll be the seniors trying for entry to the wheelchair division, probably.

Time Passes Me By

2011-03-17T02:26:00.000-07:00

2002

Not a lot can be said about 2002 in terms of running. Around November, when I am still walking with a limp so marked that at least one colleague (who also happens to be my future husband, but that's another story) thinks that I have cerebral palsy, I go to a physiotherapist to see if she can stop me limping and somehow get me back to running. It will still be a while before I realise that all the exercises in the world won't make bone heal faster, but to her credit she does help with the limp and even encourages me to try a little jogging on the treadmill at my gym.

Fast limping is what it should have been called. And someone should have stopped me before I got addicted to it, but no-one did, so that leads us to....

2003

Off to Darwin for work. Long work hours and relative isolation mean that my ability to limp fast on the treadmill becomes something of a driving force in my life. Drum roll...........stress fracture in my left femur. Back to the bike, daily swimming (tropical climate is good that way) and down into a deep depression about possibly never running again. X-ray still shows a clear fracture line all the way round the tibia, and a butterfly segment on the medial side. Not healed yet.

2004

Back to Sydney and back to the treadmill after 6 months no running/fast limping at all. I'm being very conservative by now, but I can't do more than 1-2km because of pain. On the bright side, I once again meet and now start dating my future husband, who is surprised at how much my cerebral palsy has improved and impressed with the fact that I no longer look like a depressed skeleton.

The year ticks on like this, not really running, until at some point I start wondering about the sharp, shooting pain that is my main problem when trying to run. It feels very much like it might be neurological - so I swipe some local anaesthetic from work and inject it around where the nerve injury should be. My gym is a weird place, full of bodybuilders and steroid heads, so I don't actually stand out with my needles and syringes in the change room......and then once again I attempt to run.

Better! Not great, but enough that I can convince my new orthopaedic surgeon to explore around the scars on the inside of my leg, and sure enough he chops out a moderate amount of neuroma, or damaged nerve tissue. And thus the year ends, with my x-ray still looking much the same.

2005

Finally, things are starting to look up. Future husband is a runner and with much coaxing, he gets me back out on the road in early January. We run 5km together at a snail's pace and I start to think, this guy is definitely marriage material!

I get seconded to country placements all year AGAIN (now doing formal training in General Surgery) and 6 months later in Orange the same thing happens again......not much else to do = too much trying to run --> stress fracture, this time in my pelvis. The metal rod in my right leg is screwing with my biomechanics and there's nothing I can do about it. More bike and stepper at the gym.....it's the story of my life.

Finally, in September the x-ray shows almost complete union of my right tibia! I'm still side-lined by the pelvic stress fracture, so it seems like a good time to get the huge metal nail removed from my leg. This operation leaves me in a surprising amount of agony afterwards. But by now I have started to learn that when it comes to healing, nothing is as simple as it sounds. Off to the gym once again.

In early November I decide it's time to try again, and I venture out into the quiet streets around where I'm now living in Canberra. By December I'm running 4-5 km at a time, just gently, and loving every second.

Then something unexpected happens.

Oh. My. GOD.

Shattered Leg, Shattered Dreams

2011-03-16T03:45:00.000-07:00

May 2002 is a month I will never forget. The scars on my right leg, the numb patch down the inside, the fact that it is half an inch shorter than my left - these are permanent reminders of what happened to me one afternoon in early May.

It was a Sunday; I was training for the SMH half-marathon that was 3 weeks away. That morning I had done a long run and in the afternoon - bored, with little to do until work began the next morning - I hopped on my Trek road bike with its computer, aiming to measure out the run from that morning. These were the days before Garmin GPS running watches, so I had only a vague idea how far I had run, but of course I wanted to know more precisely. So off I set.

Towards the end of the ride, the sun was setting as I went speeding down a long hill on my way back to the resident accommodation where I was living. I had no idea that the sunset behind me made me invisible to the driver who was stopped waiting to turn right across my path. At the last second he suddenly turned and all I could do was squeeze the brakes and close my eyes: a collision was unavoidable.

I never lost consciousness but with closed eyes I don't know exactly what happened - the next thing I knew I was on the bitumen on the other side of the car, a new joint in the middle of my right tibia, blood streaming down my leg. My first thought? "This CANNOT happen to me, I'm a RUNNER."

But it had happened: a compound, comminuted mid-shaft fracture of my right tibia. My fibula was in 3 pieces and there were wounds on the inside and front of my leg. I was in deep, deep trouble. My running career was most likely over.

The paramedics were kind enough to give me enough IV morphine to kill a small horse (40mg, almost 1mg per kg at that point) in order to scrape me off the road and transport me to the hospital, where my boss was called and told "Your resident is on a stretcher in here, please come." He arranged to have me sent to my parent hospital - St Vincent's - in Sydney and kindly gave me even more drugs before my leg was put into a temporary plaster, such that I have no recollection of the event and in fact slept for about 8 hours afterwards.

At St Vincent's I was delivered into the care of an excellent orthopaedic surgeon, who spent most of the night putting my leg back together with extreme attention to detail and alignment - I am forever grateful to him for that - and left it looking something like this. He also put me into another plaster, pumped me full of intravenous antibiotics and made me stay in hospital for a week.

The bruise that came up on the back of my leg had to be seen to be believed:

After a week I was free to go home - not to my previous life, but to the care of my mother, since I was still fairly immobile. Also, you can't carry a plate when you have to walk with crutches. It's the little things that are so annoying.....

I look fairly happy/optimistic in this photo outside Mum's place, probably because I still think it's all going to heal up in 6 weeks (the textbook time frame that doctors quote whenever patients ask how long something is going to take to heal) and that I'll be out there running again in no time at all. How wrong I was.

Over 6 months later, I started to come to grips with the fact that my leg was not healing at anything like the pace I expected - and wanted - it to. I was still limping like a wounded soldier. I still could not run and my exercise options were the stepper at the gym or an exercise bike I had rented to use at home in order to preserve my hard-won fitness. At least I got the driver's insurance company to pay for that, but I hated every minute I spent on it. Minutes I wanted to spend RUNNING.

30 months post-accident, this was my x-ray. The fracture line is still clearly visible all the way around the tibia. I was still in pain all day, every day, and had also developed a painful neuroma from the cutaneous nerve that had been severed by the bone on its way out through the skin.

Some time about a year before this x-ray was taken, my original treating surgeon and I had an explosive difference of opinion about what should be done about the incredibly slow pace of healing - he was technically an excellent surgeon but had the people skills of an autistic badger - and we parted company. I went to see one of my bosses at the time (I was doing orthopaedics) for a second opinion, and he was reassuring that it would eventually heal, but as I was leaving said in an off-the-cuff manner, "You know, most athletes with this sort of injury would never be able to compete again."

I remember thinking, if not saying, "Well, I will prove you wrong then" - but it would take a long, long time for me to finally keep my word.

The Glory Year (and a half)

2011-03-16T02:56:00.001-07:00

From August 2000 until early 2002, I thoroughly enjoyed my glory days of running. At the time I had no idea this time would be so short - if I had known, I might have trained properly or harder, or gotten myself a coach to make the most of my potential - but of course I didn't, so all I did was run and enjoy the thrill of being fast.

I finished my first half-marathon in May 2001 in a time of 1:26:24. During the race, on the second lap of the hilly CBD course, I was running close to another woman. A bystander was calling out positions and to us he said "12th lady, 13th lady...." My companion (clearly someone elite) said "Oh geez, that's not very good!" but I could only laugh - I was thrilled!

Later that year I again ran the City to Surf, taking over 4 minutes off my time and earning myself a Certificate of Merit, as well as a preferred runner start for the following year. Preferred runners get to turn up half an hour before the start, warm up out front and then line up right behind the elites. As opposed to lining up 3-4 hours before, cramming in with the other 79,999 participants, and then fighting to make it over the line within 10 minutes of the gun going off.....why, I'll take it!

The second half of 2001 was a fantastic time for me and my running. I was seconded to work a surgical term in Armidale, a university town in the northern part of NSW, where I found myself sharing a house with the medical resident, a fellow exercise fanatic named Saar.

Together we turned a potentially lonely and difficult work placement into a kind of triathlon boot camp, swimming squads at a local high school during the week, riding our bikes for hours on the weekend and joining a mad bunch of local doctors for long rambling runs every Sunday morning. It was fantastic fun. At one point we trekked over to a neighbouring town called Dorrigo to run a 13.5km (8.3 mile) race in extremely hilly terrain........

............where my time of 54:03 was enough to give me 4th place overall and 1st female finisher.

Turns out the race was sponsored by a local producer, so my prize was $50 and a 20kg (45lb) sack of potatoes from Dorrigo Potato Farm!

Everyone in my family got a huge bowl of potato salad from me that Christmas, needless to say.

My presence in Armidale was good for the local doctors in another, non-work related area: I ran in a relay race with them and my time over 8km (5 miles) of 31:14 helped us to win the Coyote Cup, much to the dismay of the local emergency services who made up the other teams.

My first two overall placings also happened in half-marathons run during the latter half of 2001. The Lake Macquarie HM was the first; I ran 1:25:40 and was third female finisher. It was a glorious out-and-back course along the lake, and I was excited to see Steve Moneghetti (a legendary Australian marathoner) running back while I was still on my way out - he went on to win the race and I got to shake his hand!

Next was the Central Coast HM, where I ran my PR for this distance, 1:25:24 and placed second. I was actually in first place most of the way but had another female runner positioned like a pilot fish at my shoulder - as we set off from the start I heard her coach yell at her to follow me, and she did so with very little room to spare. I think at one point I asked her to please stop breathing down my neck, which she eventually did at the 17km mark by kicking into top gear and leaving me in the dust. Thanks, that made me feel great.

2002 started with great promise, including preferred runner status for both the May SMH half-marathon and the August City to Surf. Little did I know that it was all about to come crashing down.......

Back story

2011-03-15T03:15:00.000-07:00

In 1978 I made my cross-country running debut by finishing 3rd - on no training at all - in the annual cross-country race at our primary school athletics carnival. I don't actually remember much about what transpired next, only that I was pressed into what seemed like not very much training at all, before being required to run cross-country at a regional carnival. The course was a difficult loop on a bushland trail, I didn't do spectacularly well, and that - as far as I can remember - was that.

In high school a similar scenario repeated itself. Called upon to run a couple of laps around the school (it was HUGE and set on an enormous block) I surprisingly came 4th and once again a vague desire to run and get fit was born. I probably lasted all of two or three weeks attending "Fitness" at 7am - in my defence, this meant a 5am start for me since I lived over an hour's commute from school - before retreating again into relative inactivity.

It would be quite a long time before running would become a regular part of my life. I do remember very clearly how it happened: stuck in Alice Springs, in the very middle of Outback Australia, I was doing an elective term in my final year of medical school. I had been bothered for a few years about having put on weight during my studies and - slightly bored and without my usual distractions - decided to do something about it. A classmate had been going out to run most mornings so one day I decided to join her, despite being worried about being way too slow to keep up, given that I had done no running for many years.

My worries turned out to be unjustified - although my friend was by no means creepingly slow, I found myself having to run circles around her in order to not leave her behind in the dust. For someone who has always sucked at most team sports or anything requiring hand-eye coordination, this was a major revelation: hey, I'm good at this!

(also, the scenery was sufficiently spectacular as to distract me from the difficulty of some runs, such as up Anzac Hill - great for building fitness but awfully steep and long).

A little under a year later, I ran my first City to Surf (14km from Sydney CBD to Bondi Beach) in 59:52 and an obsession was born.