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.

A momentary wallow in marathon negativity

Ten days. TEN days. I might be a little anxious. Maybe. A lot.

Thoughts:

I’m not sure but I may have misjudged how many weeks I had left, and the weekend I took off due to the combination of balloon ride, long bus trip, cupcakes and mucho booze would probably have been the last chance I had to get in another long run before my taper.

Did I do enough long runs? Were my long runs long enough?

42.2 kilometres is ten whole kilometres longer than my longest long run. Ten. Kilometres. An hour or more.

I only ran home tonight, and my knees hurt. My shins hurt. I may be whinging a little.

I have never done this. I don’t know if I CAN do this. Do I even really want to do this?

Of course I want to do this. I have to want to do this. How could I have gotten so far if I didn’t really want it?

Alright. No more negativity. Regardless of whether I’m actually ready for the big day, it’s coming and I will run it. Even if I have to walk to the finish line. Even if I cry like a whiny little girl at the end, which we all know I will do, and for a number of reasons. Because I’m tired, because I’m in pain, because I can’t believe that I’m actually about to finish the race.

April 10. Bring it on.

The Return Email

I received the following email today from Fairfax events, about the iPod issue at the marathon.

Hi Anika,
 
You will not be disqualified for running with an ipod or receive any penalty. We include it as a guideline because the use of ipods can be a safety hazard. Runners listening to loud music tend to be less aware of other runners and race marshals who may be trying to communicate with them.
 
Good luck with the event.

WIN!

Okay, so I know I’m supposed to be all rational and adult about it and be all:

“I’m glad they’re being rational, and I’ve reconsidered it, and decided I won’t be needing my iPod in the race after all. I wouldn’t want to cause a safety hazard.”

But I won’t say that. I’ll carry on being inconsiderate (at least in a technical sense), and in doing so will remain just as considerate of others as I always have in a race situation.