Meep meep!

Official City2Surf Net Time: 1:24:55

Many thanks to mum for acquiring the time for me and texting it to me at work. I couldn’t wait to find out!

As you can see with the time above, I managed to beat last year’s time for the City2Surf.

In the most eloquent terms - YEAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I was, I admit, a little hungover at the start line. I had about five or six glasses of champagne the night before in the Club Lounge at the Sheraton on the Park (my home away from home when I’m in Sydney) and hardly any water to chase them. I also ate a hearty breakfast prior to the start, and if you’ll excuse a little too much information (I apologise in advance) my breakfast kept on coming back up to say hello over the first ten or so kilometres of the race. I never actually vomited, which is a plus, but I had a bit of... unpleasantness.

My legs felt like crap as we crossed the start line, and my lungs started to give me hell after the first kilometre in a way that made me think I was going to be walking a large portion of the way. I felt disheartened, like I’d cheated myself out of a good race. The first little hill (just as you head toward the tunnel) was way harder than it was supposed to be.

I’m going to assume that these issues came from not being warmed up, at all. It was also a bit cool at the start - in Sydney standards, mind you. Canberra folks are made of hardier stuff. It was grey, and it drizzled a little before the start, but I was too focused on my own pain to care even if it was raining (and I don’t think it really was raining). At the first drink stop, I got a cup of water and poured it down my neck and back as I walked through, drinking another. As soon as I got back into my stride, I felt good. Actually, I felt great. The cold water gave me the shock I needed to harden up and get on with it.

Heartbreak Hill? More like a speed bump. I noticed coins on the road, a fifty cent coin here, a five cent there. They started halfway up the hill (or at least that’s where I noticed the first one) and I followed them all the way up the slope. A welcome distraction. Actually, there were coins on the road all the way down to Bondi. Someone had a hole in their pocket, methinks.

Mum didn’t catch me at the finish line, but I didn’t catch her either, unfortunately. It was a great run though, and even though there was no live rock band on the pub roof this year (something I always keep my eye out for) there was a jazz band (or maybe two), cheerleaders (multiple), some very well dressed drag queens and the obligatory smurfs, presumably drinking at nine am on a Sunday.

Recovery wasn’t too much fun. I was tired as hell after the race, and that continued until yesterday. Starting to feel a little more like myself now, but I’ve still got the pain in the front of my thighs that comes with a two kilometre sprint at the end of a race at what was at least for me a blistering pace.

All in all, very happy with this year’s race.



Very happy indeed.

(ps. Love this pic, but unfortunately my medal was flipped around so you can’t see it. It’s a pity. And yes, I’m a dork. I’ve cross-posted this pic everywhere because it’s awesome and I look like a big awesome dork in it.)

Cough cough cough

Alright, one week out, I thought I’d give the rundown on the run-up to the City2Surf.

I took one step forward with my training, then I took a pretty big step back. Inexplicably, I got sick again. A viral lung infection, leading to a great deal of coughing, at times coughing up blood. Had to get a puffer as my old friend bronchial asthma decided to come back and say hello. I’ve been barely able to breathe, and I haven’t run in two weeks.

This morning I hoped to get a quick 14k in (as I was hungover yesterday from my birthday on Friday. My own fault, I’m not going to try to rationalise) but when I hit the turnaround point on the first bridge heading around Lake Gininderra I took stock of my breathing, took stock of my legs, and decided to go on back and leave it at 10k. My legs were fine, great even, but I had a tightness in my chest that I didn’t want to push. I felt like I had enough steam to confidently jog up College Street on the way back, didn’t even have an issue on the last piece of Hayden Drive, which usually pushes me into the anaerobic and is never comfortable. I think I’ll do fine in the big race, but I know it won’t be anything special.

On the costume front, I didn’t have time to source a costume online so I went to the Funny Shop in Civic to look for something. I found exactly the costume I was looking for, in brown, unfortunately, but the price made me pause. $90 or thereabouts, for a crappy cheap ‘sexy beer wench’ costume! Outrageous! I know I could get exactly the same thing, maybe even in blue or pink or purple, on the internet for maybe $30. So I made a decision. City2Surf, I’ll wear my usual boring gear. I’ll plan my costume for the Canberra Times 10k, and hope not to embarrass the crap out of my pal Dina, whom I’m going to be pacing in said race.

I'm back, baby!

This morning I ran 14k and it felt GREAT. Actually, I should clarify. I felt terrible to begin with, had niggles all the way, but after I managed the run and with nary a kilometre at slower than a 6:30 pace, I feel enlivened and reassured and recommitted to kicking butt at the City2Surf.

It felt like it was going to be a tough one going out, my knee was hurting from the outset and I could feel that my form wasn’t very good, so I concentrated on making sure my toes weren’t clenching inside my shoes (a terrible habit, I think I picked it up with an old pair of shoes that were badly fitted, and my feet slipped back and forth badly), turning my hips out properly, and keeping my shoulders loose. I didn’t really watch my pace at all, alternating between obsessing about my form and distracting myself with the latest Zumba instructor CD. I must have had the energy to burn though, as I don’t feel like I was going out too hard and I finished the 14k in under an hour and a half. I don’t know if aiming for an 80 minute C2S is really feasible, but I’m not going to hold myself back on that account. I’m going to go for it. Eye of the tiger, etc.

I think it’s the tilt on the footpaths that causes my hip clickin’ evilness and my left knee problems. I can also really feel the transition between the different surfaces more than I used to. Pavement isn’t as springy, and tarmac bike paths don’t cause as much impact up my legs.

On the costume front, I think I want to run the City 2 Surf in something like this:

Yes indeedy. A dirndl. Then I can run straight to the pub after the race. What do you folks reckon?

State of Affairs

Okay. It’s two thirds of the way through July. The City2Surf is in... 24 days. I have barely trained.

I had a cold at one point. Eh. It’s not important. It’s all excuses. I’m going to spare myself the rationalisation.

I haven’t run at all this week. I did a 12k on Saturday, slow as hell. A couple of 6k staggers home during last week. Before that, a half-hearted 9k on the previous Saturday.

I think my performance will be seriously lacking at the race, so there is only one question now.

What ridiculous costume should I wear to run the City2Surf?

This is the way I figure it - I’m probably going to run the whole way, not in a spectacular fashion but not breaking any records. I will feel like I’ve wasted my potential.

BUT, if I run in a stupid (and hopefully lightweight) costume, I will feel like a massive tool, and other race participants will treat me accordingly. Plus, it has always looked like a great deal of fun.

So what do you reckon, silent blogosphere? Little red riding hood? A simple tutu?

Click, click, CLICK CLICK CLICK

Alrighty. Back to the grind.

My burlesque class this morning was cancelled, so I decided a Saturday morning run was on the cards. I’ve always found it easier to run on Saturdays than Sundays, as evidenced by not having done a long run in weeks and weeks and weeks.

I tried to keep my pace down and my heart rate manageable, but my garmin died after about a kilometre so after that I don’t know how fast I was running.

I don’t know why the garmin died. It was on the charge until about five minutes before I went out running, and has been sitting on the charge for quite a while. Maybe the charge bleeds if it’s sitting there on full battery for too long? I don’t know. Hope I haven’t killed the poor thing.

I made it to about twelve kilometres before my right hip started hurting like a bitch and I had to stop and walk. Then, this little piggy went click click click click all the way home.

Less than two months until the City 2 Surf!

Who's a naughty girl, then?

I have no excuses. At this point, I haven’t run a whole lot in the last couple of weeks.

I’ll do better.

I ran home from work today. It’s the first time I’ve done that in quite a while. It was dark, and everything. Next time, flashy light and headlamp will have to be part of my outfit, methinks.

Race? Or, training run?

I’m heading off to run the Mother’s Day Classic 10k this morning. I wouldn’t hazard a guess to how long it’s going to take me, considering I haven’t really trained at all, and didn’t run at all last week. If I can get in at under 60 minutes, I’ll count it as a win and move on, but it wont be the end of the world if I can’t crack the 60 minute barrier. But... I have done it before. No. Just because I’m on fairly fresh legs right now I shouldn’t be stupid and aim for a PB. Even though the course is certified.

Agh. I don’t know.

I’d better go get ready.

The lazy picture post

This is my reward to myself for a job well done. I gotta say, though, it did hurt a bit more than some of my other tattoos because my ankles are getting so bony.

The Post-Run Rundown

As the time listed officially on the website and the time I got from my Garmin are four minutes apart, I don’t want to even hazard a guess to the ACTUAL time it took me to run the marathon, but I’m going to err on the conservative side and use my gun time of 4:52:50.

I wasn’t aiming for any particular time, and at times during the race I doubted that a finish was even possible, but I’ve gotta say that I’m relieved I got in under 5 hours. That summarises my mental state, ever since i crossed the finish line.

RELIEF.

I am so glad that it’s over. I’ve never encountered anything as difficult or emotional in my entire life.

I started the race nervous and not particularly warmed up, pulling out my iPod pretty much the moment I crossed the start line to provide some necessary distraction. As usual, I found myself pulled along by the crowd for the first couple of kilometres before I reined myself in, realising that a large proportion of the crowd was running at their half marathon pace, not their marathon pace. I settled for a 6:30km pace, as it seemed comfortable to me (but not too comfortable). For the first 21 km, I continued in this manner, pretty strong, pretty confident. I chatted to some other people, surprisingly. I enjoyed the scenery. And then, things got hard.

My left leg started to niggle at me at the halfway point, and I started to feel a little iffy despite having already consumed two gels (one at 10k, another at 18k or thereabouts). I had stopped at a public toilet somewhere along the way, but even that short respite hadn’t perked me up at all. I found myself counting down kilometre to kilometre, which is a bad habit to get into too early. The rain was relentless, and it was cold. More than anything, I wanted to stop and go home. I made it to the 28 km mark, where slower runners would be diverted along the bike paths after 3 hours. I missed the cut-off by less than 2 minutes. I was devastated. On the bike path along the lakeside, with minimal signage and a drastically reduced crowd, I felt like I was the only marathon runner left on the road. It was a dismal and depressing feeling.

At 31 km, I lost all the energy in my legs. My speed had been flagging for a couple of kilometres, increasing from 6:30 to 6:45, to 7:20. I hit the wall. I ran out of energy. I started crying, pulled out my phone. I wailed at Simon that I was done, I couldn’t run anymore, I had failed. He asked me if I was going to finish. I said I would try, but I couldn’t run. He told me he was proud of me, he told me he knew I could do it.

Somehow, I kept going. I had to walk, in short spurts, and when I ran my legs were like lead. But I kept going. When I made it to the final turn-around point, I could barely believe it. Somewhere along the way, another runner going in the other direction told me not to run again if I’d started walking, or at least that’s what it sounded like. But I couldn’t give up. I ran, then I walked, then when I got to the 41 km mark, I just ran.

Nothing can beat the feeling when I approached the finish line and I saw Simon, and my mum, and I knew it was over.

Even now, two days after finishing the race, everything hurts. This is a testament to how much strain my body was under. My legs scream at me every time I stand up, and the pain radiates from my neck, all the way down my body. Mystery bruises are everywhere. My right hip clicks when I move, my left knee does the same.

I’m heading out to get my marathon tattoo tomorrow. Hopefully my legs will be recovered enough by then that it’s not an unpleasant experience.

Then, I need to figure out what to aim for next. A triathlon? Another half? Another full? An ultra? Nah. Not an ultra. I’ll need to give it some thought.

The Final Countdown

So here it is. Just about twelve hours until the marathon. I am shit-scared.

I ran home on Tuesday, even though I wasn’t sure I should, but I was worried that I had undertrained and that I must be losing fitness. Even though I’ve been able to stop thinking about it for most of the week, I’m still afraid that I haven’t trained enough. I feel like I’ve been boring everybody to tears with my worrying and complaining and nerves.

I just made my playlists, got my clothes together, and made sure my electrical devices are charged or charging.

I still feel like I’ve forgotten something, but I can’t figure out what it is.

I know I shouldn’t drink, but I really think I need some sort of nerve-calmer. A beer, maybe.