A few more ramblings

This post is probably going to be a little rambling, so please bear with me. A workmate commented today after reading on Facebook about yet another of my runs that I was a rock star. My response was that I wasn't a rock star so much as someone who was a touch obsessive, stubborn, goal focussed and in possession of an unfortunately high pain tolerance.

The truth is, I do this stuff because I love it. Sure, not every workout is enjoyable. Sometimes I hurt. In fact I often hurt. Sometimes I get injured. Sometimes I get tired or just want to blob out at home in the warm. However the joy I get when the training is going well is worth a bit of discomfort to keep pushing on through.

I've shuffled things around a bit this week, but I'm feeling really great about my training. With the exception of an 8km flat run which I will do on Friday, I've ticked all the boxes on my workout calendar. What's more, every run, if not every workout, has been outstanding. There are times when I feel like such a newbie at all this, like I'm still such a total beginner. Sure, I ran a marathon this year, but I've yet to clock a half marathon in under two hours. I've only ever run that distance that fast in training. My fastest official 10km time is still only a slowpoke 59 minutes, even though I know I'm capable of much better than that and routinely mark 55 minutes over the distance on my Garmin on medium-paced training runs.

I ran the marathon, then immediately understood what I had to do to improve. I'm continuing to open up new doors as I start exploring the opportunities that trail running can provide. There's still so much I want to do, so much I want to achieve. I want to tick off a 24 minute 5km, a half marathon in under 1.55 (preferably closer to 1.50), a marathon in close to four hours. There are so many off road races I could get involved in.

Until this year I've been held back by a succession of injuries. Every time I got close to my desired run fitness something else would go. I'm not sure what's changed now, but I suspect it's partly a matter of accumulated distance. My body's finally catching up with my aspirations. It is finally strong enough and acclimatised enough to cope with everything I want to subject it to. That's not to say that I'm pain free. I will always need to watch my dodgy hip, ensure that I stretch everything that has a tendency towards tightness, monitor my ankles. An important part of staying mobile is being able to recognise, as I did following my peak week of marathon training, when my body needs a break and would benefit from some time out of running shoes. As much as I beat myself up for not completing all of Dave's programme, I know that, had I not taken it easy while in the South Island, I might not have made it to the start line. As it was I turned up feeling slightly undercooked, but in physically better shape than I might otherwise have been. My hip was feeling decidedly grumpy, but I wasn't completely destroyed.

Somehow something seems to be clicking right now. It's not just this sense that my body is finally catching up. It's also that I seem to be in a place right now where I'm prepared to start upping the ante a little. Running with Jo is great. She kicks my butt, keeps me honest and pushes me way past my comfort zone. As a result I'm starting to run my solo runs with her on my shoulder. What does a week with a phantom running companion look like?

Well, the week started a little slowly but gathered momentum. Last week I missed a 7km fast run (doing Dee's Friday RPM instead) and I still had this vague idea that I wanted to make it up. However there was the added issue of a bit of a cold, which was going to my ears and causing me some discomfort. There were also my plans for Saturday night - a Fly My Pretties concert at the St James. Dave had me down to run 3 Peaks on Sunday morning, but I didn't want to go out Saturday night then have to get up at 6.30am on a wintery Sunday to chase Jo on the trails for nearly three hours. Besides, I really couldn't face the idea of a whole weekend without a sleep in, and the cold was getting worse.

I had booked into two RPM classes on Saturday and sweated my way through them next to Julia. The first class was a little lacklustre but my legs loosened up and I was cranking it by the end of the second. Fly My Pretties were excellent, and I slept solidly afterwards, waking on Sunday morning at around the time I should have been setting out from the Harriers clubrooms with two very blocked and sore ears and a running nose.

By mid-afternoon I decided that, if I wasn't in physical shape for a two plus hour run, I could at least do 7km. It wasn't going to be a fast, flat 7km run, not unless I drove into town, but I figured an undulating 7km would do. That resulted in the surprisingly good run described in my last post (and the bloodied, bruised knees).

On Monday the cold had mysteriously vanished, and my ears were clear. I threw myself with gusto into my LBN workout then sat at my desk in my running gear, psyching myself up for the two hour run I should have done the day before. I figured that I needed to throw in at least one decent hill climb, given that I should have been running up Hawkins Hill et al. I wasn't going to be running trails, not in the dark, but I decided to run up Mt Vic and then go from there.

I cruised out to Carlton Gore and then it was just up, up and up again. I'm sure it felt much easier this time than it did a couple of weeks ago. I ran to the bottom of the steps that lead to the lookout, but it was so dark I stopped to walk the steps and path. Falling over the day before had seriously dented my confidence in my ability to stay upright.

It was really, as mentioned, really really dark and the lookout was completely deserted. As I was walking up the path someone came running up behind me. I had brief thoughts about my blatant disregard for personal safety, but I also figured that a guy who could run the path at the speed this one was had better things to do than attack me. We ended up chatting for a few minutes at the top about running the hills of Wellington before we both set off in our respective directions. He liked the fact there was no lighting, which to me marks a major difference between the genders. He didn't need to worry anywhere near as much as I did that someone might jump out of the bushes at him.

The view from the top of Mt Vic was stunning on this clear, cold night. However I didn't want to push my luck and, still completely alone, I ran through the carpark and down the other side of lookout road back to Alexandra. The complete lack of company was eerie. Not one car graced the mountain top. I couldn't even see that clearly as I approached Alexandra Rd, and the first couple of hundred metres of Alexandra Rd itself were decidedly dicey. My lack of confidence in my ability to keep my footing slowed me considerably, and I'm not running that way again without a head lamp.

I had been nursing vague thoughts of running via Hawker Street and then along Austin, but of course I went the wrong way and ended up running back the way I came down Carlton Gore. Undeterred I ran towards the city and up Majoribanks, so got to do Austin after all.

I was still feeling good by this point, not at all tired and in a tranquil zone on what had become a beautiful evening. When I got to the Basin I swung left up Adelaide Rd, then right again and back into town via Wallace and Taranaki. From the bottom of Taranaki I ran back along the waterfront to the railway station then up Bowen and back to the gym. All up just slightly under two hours. A far hillier run than I would have done without Jo on my shoulder, and I still felt good at the end.

I was up early the next morning for Dee's RPM class, and this week it was my quads hurting, not my hamstrings. Once again it took a significant part of the class to loosen up. Undeterred however I was adamant I wanted to fit in another run that day. I knew I was pushing it a bit given the longer run the night before, but I wanted to get it done.

I had planned to do an 8km fast, flat run, though given my quads I wasn't sure how fast I would be going. However the weather conspired against me. A common theme emerged amongst my running friends as the day went on. As the temperatures dropped and the weather stations started reporting a windchill factor of -1 we all started talking about making a rare foray into the world of treadmill running.

I was NOT prepared to do 8km on a treadmill, so intervals it was. That wasn't ideal given the long run the night before, but they were only baby intervals - three sets of two minutes of hard effort, thirty minutes of running all up. I jumped on the treadmill and off I went. My quads were still sore, but they didn't really slow me as much as I'd expected. I was slightly conservative with the first interval but my heartrate didn't even hint at spiking. Castigating myself as I watched my heartrate plunge during the rest period, I cranked it up a bit more for the second block. It lifted a little more but still wasn't where I wanted it. Feeling good I seriously kicked the last interval. As the treadmill belt flashed beneath me my knees lifted, my rear foot shoved off, propelling me forwards. I was finding major air with each stride. I was really running! My heart was thumping but I felt fantastic.

Not wanting to sound repetitive, but the theme continued today. Another hardcore LBN workout, followed by another run. This time it was 50 minutes of hills. My quads were still killing me, but I set off up Grant Rd at a good pace. The first ten minutes were a case of trying to block out the pain of the cold temperatures, but while it was freezing there was no wind, and once I started climbing I warmed up a bit. My arms and legs were bright red by the time I'd finished though.

Up Grant Rd and then, at Sarah's suggestion, I headed right along Barnard Street. I had said that I wanted views and she assured me that I'd get them. She was right - the views were stunning, as were the houses. The traffic hummed past far below me while the harbour reflected a myriad of city lights. This was urban running in Wellington at its absolute best.

Finishing my loop I ran all the way up to the top of Wadestown, then up onto Wadestown Rd. I was still feeling fantastic, so I pumped my arms and floored it down Wadestown Rd, probably scaring the life out of the dozens of pedestrians walking the other direction. What part of 'keep left' do these people not understand? Onto Grant Rd, scenting the end of the run. I got to the bottom of Wadestown Rd in around 42 minutes, so knew I'd be close to 50 by the time I got back to the office. I made myself keep the pressure on up and down all of Grant Rd's undulations, then really floored it up Tinakori. I passed a male runner as we passed Government house, skipped across the pedestrian crossing and redlined it to Bowen. I flew even faster down Bowen and caught the lights onto the Terrace, making myself hold that pace all the way to my building. As I stopped I hit the Garmin. 49:28.

Now, I'm a little puzzled at the time, but I think it gives a true indication of how far I've come with my hill climbing in the last few weeks. I'm fairly certain that a month or two ago it took me 45 minutes to run that route, without the Barnard Street loop thrown in. So I've somehow added quite a long detour and somehow ended up with only an extra four minutes of running time.

Do you see why I think things are clicking right now? I seem to be in a place where I am again physically and mentally ready to push myself and to step it up another level.

Sorry, that was indeed rambling and perhaps a little repetitive. I'll try to think up alternative ways of saying "I had a fantastic run today". Rest day tomorrow, which is probably just as well!

Ironic

After managing to stay upright over the last few weeks on muddy, step and uneven trails, I manage to totally faceplant on a, to all appearances, flat stretch of footpath about 100 metres from home. To my credit I did it in spectacular fashion - falling like a felled tree straight over at speed. I even managed to fall about 20 metres in front of a woman I'd just overtaken. If you're going to make an idiot of yourself you might as well do it in style and with witnesses!

On the positive side, despite being full of a cold and therefore postponing my two plus hour run, I found a fantastic new 7km hilly loop today, which I can run from home. It all started as I stood at the lights in Brooklyn and thought "hmmm, perhaps I should give running up Todman a go". That led to running left onto Mitchell past the house we rented when we first moved here, and then right onto Karepa. I overtook a guy along Karepa but he turned up Ashton Fitchett toward the turbine. My fluid-filled ears weren't cooperating with elevation climbs and were becoming increasingly blocked, so I skipped the larger climb and ran back down to Brooklyn via Helen Street, down Brooklyn Hill to Washington, and then back along Washington Ave/Mills Rd etc to home. All up some decent hillage and beautiful views.

I'm hoping my lungs will be a little clearer tomorrow so that I can fit a few more climbs into a long run. I'm surprised I climbed as well as I did today given my state of grottiness!

But what if I don't want lemonade?

Bah. So I had that fantastic 80 minute run, got up the next morning and did Dee's 6.30am RPM, and by Tuesday afternoon my hamstrings were mutinying. I had enough sense not to attempt a fast 7km run!

I limped my way through Wednesday's LBN workout, but knew I was in trouble when my hamstrings forced me to stagger my way through warmup laps of the gym studio. It seems I was suffering the DOMS of doom.

The weights circuit wasn't too bad, even if my form during the squats was laughable. Unfortunately we followed that up with a 15 minute cardio block (5,5,5). Sitting on an exercycle I watched my heartrate lift a little more than I would have expected. I monitored it on the treadmill and, rather than sprinting, I set it to a recovery pace. My heartrate cooperated, and so I pushed it again on the crosstrainer.

I was still feeling sore after work that evening, but I was grimly determined to get through my 45 minute hill run, even if it meant running more slowly than usual. I did the same loop I did a week ago - up Bowen, Tinakori and Glenmore, through the Karori tunnel, over and down into Aro Valley, through the park and back along the Terrace again. Even though I felt like I was taking it easy it only took one minute longer. I ran up the stairs I'd walked up last week (mainly because this week I knew what was coming and was confident of my footing in the dark). As I was passing the Mercure Hotel it started pelting down and I howled in frustration then ran up the hill to the corner of the Terrace and Salamanca a little faster than planned. All up it was a surprisingly good run, and my hamstrings are on the way to recovery.

Unfortunately it seems I may indeed have pushed it too hard over Monday/Tuesday after all, and today I woke with a little bit of a cold. I'm fighting it off and it's really nothing more than a bit of a dripping nose, but it's annoying. I'm not sure why I'm feeling it all so badly. Sure, my exercise intensity was up a little bit, but it's nothing I haven't had on my schedule before.

I'm supposed to be running a very hilly 2+ hour race on Sunday, but the forecast isn't good and I'm reserving judgement till I work out what this cold has in store. I did, however, enter the Harbour Capital half on 28 June. Dave wants me to run it at a slow pace. Yeah right. What he doesn't know won't hurt him!

Note to self ...

No matter how cruddy life can get you will sometimes still set out after work for the 80 minute run you should have done on Sunday, except for the fact that you got home at 4am, woke at 1pm and spent the whole day sitting in front of the heater recovering.  

You will decide to ignore your Garmin when it tells you how fast you are, and you will run by feel.  It will be dark and crisp, because this is winter, but it will be unusually, perfectly still.  You will quickly realise that you feel better than you have any right to.  You will be just starting to decide that you might perhaps survive this run.

And then you will round Pt Jerningham and there, across that calm flat harbour, a new moon will be rising huge and golden over Mt Crawford.  And you will want to stop dead in your tracks to just admire the beauty, but you will keep going because it seems a shame to waste the good momentum you have built up.

You will run the whole way to Evans Bay gaping at the gorgeous moon.  You will want to comment to people walking past about the gorgeousness, but you don't want to seem crazy, so you hold your tongue.  And when you get to Evans Bay and hit the lap button you are pleasantly surprised by your lap pace.  

You will lose sight of the moon as you head over the saddle to Newtown.  You decide at the last moment to run around the Basin rather than through it, and then something will compel you to swing right up Ellis Street.  When you get to Austin you will marvel at how easy that hill now seems, remembering how much of a mission it was a couple of years ago.  You will storm along the undulating Austin, and a woman walking by will tell you you are doing a good job.  

You will turn down Majoribanks and unfortunately by the time you think to yourself that you should run up Hawker you are already past and the moment is gone.  Instead you run back towards Oriental Bay and Martin Bosley's before turning around.  As you head back around Te Papa there is the moon again, this time resting above the eastern flanks of Mt Vic.  

You will run gladly back towards the gym, respecting the strength in your legs and your continued freshness.  The little climb up Bowen to the Terrace will feel like nothing.  You will go back into the gym, stretch, and chat to the friends you bump into there.

You will catch a bus home, eat a great dinner, drink a glass of wine ...

And you will remember why it is you run.

Reasons why I would one day like to do an Ironman

Because there are women who can finish like this, and who almost make it seem easy and fun ...

Pip Goes Trail Running in Arctic Wellington

Epic.  There is only one word that will do it.  Today's run was epic.  

I'm not ashamed to say that I was dragged kicking, screaming and weeping into today's run.  Jo rang at 10am when I was still in bed and I did NOT want to say yes. I wanted to stay in bed.  I wanted to be warm and fed and lazy and snuggled up with husband and cats.  So why did I say yes?  Because I am insane, a masochist, stupid.  You choose!  

So it was that I hauled myself out of bed, ate porridge, cooked and ate some kumara soup, and at 12.20 I shivered as I changed out of my nice, warm house clothes into running gear.  It was 9 degrees in the hallway.  What the heck was I doing?  By 1pm I was in the Karori recreation centre car park debating layers and donning my fuel belt.  To my surprise it wasn't as cold in Karori as I'd expected.  I'd thought the Southerly would be howling through the Western suburb.  I'd planned on wearing gloves and my merino jacket, but ditched the merino for my wind parker and decided the gloves would be excessive.  

Jo arrived and we set out on an adventure.  Today's run could be classed as an adventure because I had no clue where we were running and Jo sortof knew.  She had a (slightly inadequate) map.  That was good enough for me.  We started out aiming for Johnsons Hill.  This was probably the weakest part of the run for me.  It was steep and extremely muddy and I walked more than I would really want to admit.  

It was very windy and cold at the top but we stopped for a few moments to admire the view.  We continued along the skyline track where it only got muddier.  We had to divert from the trail a few times to get around cows reclining on the grass.  The same cows had really eaten up the track, leaving thick mud in their wake.  I wouldn't really count this first part of the run as running.  It was more a case of shuffling forwards trying not to wind up face down in cow effluent.  Surprisingly, despite a few close calls, neither Jo nor I ever hit the dirt.  

I've never run the skyline track before, though I'd heard a lot about it. The views are truly stunning, particularly of the new wind farm - a forest of elegant wind turbines in the distance.  The West wind development has been very controversial, as these things always are.  I sympathise with the Makara residents who feel they are being invaded, but I land firmly in the pro-turbine camp and find them extremely beautiful. Beyond the farm was the Sounds.  We could see that they were bathed in sunshine.  They seemed like a good place to be. 

The trail became increasingly exposed as we headed towards Makara Peak.  The trail continued to be extremely slippery, but thankfully never as muddy as that first stretch.  At times the wind caught me and threatened to send me flying, but I remained upright, which, given my lack of coordination, is a miracle.  

When we reached Makara Rd I have to admit that I looked wistfully in the direction of Karori, knowing how close I was to being back in my warm car.  Jo had other ideas however, and I was, by this point, in enough of a mood for an adventure to keep going.  We set off towards Makara Peak.  Cue another steep stretch of trails and switchbacks. but this time I managed to run nearly all of it.  

The top of Makara Peak was distinctly eerie, with the wind blowing through the transmitters creating a loud sound not unlike the signals being transmitted escaping and becoming audible.  The discordant noise followed us as we once again began to descend and were picked up by the looming power pylons.  In theory we were entering a more sheltered stretch of trail, but this wasn't reflected in my experience of rounding a corner and being thrown into the bank to my right as I got hit by a particularly enthusiastic gust.  

More mud, more down.  A little undulation. We stopped periodically to consult Jo's map and to step aside for the few mountain bikers brave enough to be out.  I was painfully aware of the Vorb message forum discussions in which runners on the Makara Peak trails are referred to in less than favourable terms.  However the cyclists we encountered were all friendly and thanked us for diving off the trail each time we encountered them.  

It became clear at some point that we were heading more for Jo's target of 2.5 hours than mine of 1 hour 45.  Jo was extremely apologetic but I was having too much fun to be worried.  It was only towards the end of the run, when we had about six kilometres to go, that I started to feel a bit over it.  I probably hadn't taken on enough fuel. I'd sipped on perhaps 250 mls of Nuun and had swallowed a couple of lollies, but the strain of running on new trails and the challenging weather conditions meant that I could probably have done with a few more calories.  I downed a gel and that helped me pull myself together for the home stretch.  

Before too long we were out of the trails and running along South Karori Rd.  I knew that we now had a couple of kilometres of uphill to go.  It may have been the gel, but I set upon a good, solid plod and sucked it up and got it done.  We even kicked it for the last 400 metres or so.  I reflected on the fact that I had in fact felt pretty strong for most of the run. The first bit up Johnson Hill had bitten hard, but most of that had been psychological.  

We ended up running for about 2.20, and it was all up a fantastic run.  It was cold, it was windy and it was muddy.  We were running in a very remote and exposed location and I realised belatedly that I'd left my phone behind, which could have meant trouble if either of us had wiped out and injured ourselves.  It was however also insanely beautiful and it made me grateful to be living here in Wellington and that I'm fit enough to be able to even attempt what I got done today.  Jo took me well out of my comfort zone, for which I'm extremely grateful.  I made it home with dried mud up my legs and dived straight into the best warm shower ever.  

I'm now sitting here with a duvet and a cider on the sofa feeling smug and happy, and a little dubious about getting up tomorrow morning for a 6.30am RPM class!

Hamish saved us from ourselves

Well, at 7.30 this morning rain was being driven against the bedroom window by yet another formidable Southerly.  Hamish yet again rolled over and remarked that going for a run in the hill suburbs of Karori would be more than a little insane.  Thankfully Jo was of the same opinion.  When I got up to call her it was 10.5 degrees in the hallway and by the time I went back to bed it had dropped to 10. It's currently 8 degrees just after 4.00pm.  Outside it's reportedly 4 degrees with a windchill factor of around 0.  Needless to say, I stayed in bed until around 12, then retreated to the study by the heater.  Even so I'm wearing three layers, two being merino.  

At some stage this afternoon the rain stopped and the sun came out and I made a dash for the Brooklyn superette.  As I got there snow flurries started to fall.  While I was shopping they thickened until, when I got back to the car, the windscreen was coated in thick white ice.  It was frozen water that couldn't quite decide whether it was snow or hail, but the exact definition was beside the point.  It was freezing! Needless to say, I hurried back to the warmth of the study and have been here ever since. Various reports from around the city confirm that we would have been running through snow flurries had we ventured out.   

I had planned to head to the gym to do a short run on the treadmill, expecting the weather to be improved enough tomorrow to fit in my long run. However Dave has me down for a bonus RPM and no fast run.  So I'll do the long run tomorrow then fit the extra RPM in some time during the week - perhaps Friday.  I'm still doing all my workouts, just shuffling the days a bit.  In fact I feel like my programme's very light right now, but that's the whole point.  I'm supposed to be easing back into it, and as much as I love flogging myself I really should know by now that I can't do that all the time.

Congratulations to Nick Churchouse , who finished the Christchurch marathon in horrific conditions today in just over four hours, his first!  It was only a few short months ago that he was standing in his mother's kitchen looking horrified as we discussed my Rotorua training programme.  I didn't think he'd actually pull it together, but he managed it in style!  Congratulations too to Kathryn, my Jog Squad and Gearshifters training buddy, who also finished today, despite health and injury setbacks along the way.  I think that if hail started to fall at the start of my first marathon that I'd seriously consider heading back to the hotel for a spa!

Hamish has said he will venture out at some stage today for fish and chips.  Today has become an experiment in keeping warm via the thermogenic effect of regular food and alcohol intake.  Oops ...

Marathon photos!

Oops - wrong way around!  Finished .... and I swear I'm not leaning on that fence just to keep myself upright!

Before, and trying not to feel too nervous!

Wheeeeeeee

Hiding under a duvet on the sofa on a Saturday afternoon

That's the sound of an Arctic southerly blowing through the empty halls of this blog.  Guess I kinda disappeared after the marathon huh?  Well, the good news is that the head cold never turned into anything serious.  I've been continuing to train - three runs a week, a spin class, a ride (or two more spin classes), and three LBN workouts (which are kicking my butt).  

Post-marathon I had good run after good run, felt strong and powerful, fell in love with running all over again. I kept training even as the weather deteriorated to the point of being ridiculous.  I guess I couldn't have expected the good runs to last forever, and on Monday night I shuffled my way around what was supposed to be five fast kilometres and ended up being more like four. It was windy and wet and very cold and I was tired and just not feeling the love.  I didn't regret calling it quits early one little bit.  

Wednesday's hill run was an improvement, and I'm hoping I'll get a 1 hour 45 minute run in tomorrow.  However the prediction is for a high of eight degrees and snow down to 200 metres.  Jo and I were planning a huge run on the Karori trails, but that's looking a bit doubtful right now!  We've agreed that if we think we're heading into hypothermia territory we'll head off to a cafe for a hot chocolate instead.   

It's a cold, cold winter of discontent here in Wellington, but at least the cats are warm!

Bah

After an unintentional rest day yesterday I had a satisfying workout with the Look Better Naked crew this afternoon.  Lots of squats, lunges, full press ups and crunches.  After work I ran a blisteringly fast (like, holy heck fast) Kelburn loop.  A tall, athletic guy passed me on the flat through Kelburn and I made a mental note to keep an eye out for him on the downhill.  He was a bit faster with his road crossings and I lost sight of him until he ran out in front of me by the university.  He must have stopped for some reason.  It was game on by that point.  

I didn't get past him but I sat on his tail about five metres behind right until he crossed the road again and I lost him on the Terrace. He may have turned down Boulcott Street.  Now he was about six foot and was loping down that hill pretty easily.  I felt like a demented chihuahua running after him.  My feet were turning over incredibly quickly and in my mind my ears were flapping behind me and my tongue was dangling out the side of my mouth, just like an over-stimulated little dog attempting to chase a car.  Ironic really, because I'd nearly tripped over a similarly sized dog in Kelburn when it decided it wanted to sniff at a tree to my right. It was a close call whether I was going to trip over the dog or its leash.  Thankfully I managed to slam on the brakes quickly enough to avoid doing either.  The dog's owners were more than a little embarrassed, poor things. 

Anyway, there I was going too fast down the hill to check the Garmin. It was all I could do to remain upright, but it felt good to be letting loose and I gave myself permission to be reckless just this once.  I think at one point I may have noticed something in the low four minute km's, but I didn't get a really good look so can't be certain.  All I know was that I raced up Glenmore and that my overall pace was excellent.   

I kicked it just a little more as I headed up the last slight rise to the Terrace gym.  I'm not going to lie, it felt fantastic to be running at speed again.  It gave me hope of running a couple of fast half marathons this year!  

Afterwards I was telling Dave that I wanted to run another marathon in the first half of next year, and he suggested the Mountain to Surf in New Plymouth.  It's fast, the timing's right and I can stay with my parents in Stratford.  Sounds perfect!  Anyone else care to join me?  

Oh, and I think I'm getting a cold.  Crud.  Definitely getting a cold.  Ironic really, when I was so careful to stay away from sick people after the race.  Looks like I let my guard down too soon ...

Rotorua - The Marathon

As I ran over the start line it was difficult to collect my thoughts.  The Maori warriors were gathered at the entrance to the Government Gardens but I was on the other side of the road from them and didn't have much of a chance to take them in.  We ran through the city streets and turned to start heading out of town.

I don't remember a lot about the early minutes of this race.  I was focussing mostly on trying to keep control of my pace as I was worried about going out too fast.  Even so I caught up with the 4.30 pacers and kept overtaking large numbers of runners.  The guys who had been standing next to me dropped off and I didn't see them again.  

My legs felt ok. Not amazing, but not that bad either.  I got ahead of the 4.30 pacers then told myself off and slowed down a bit.  I found myself running alongside them and, feeling comfortable with their pace, decided to stay with them for a while.  I don't normally try to stick with pacers as trying to hold that constant speed drives me nutty, but I figured doing so for a few kilometres would keep me in check.  

Looking at the elevation map the first 6km or so trend gradually uphill, but honestly it's such a gradual incline as to be almost unnoticeable.  I figured this early part of the run would give my legs a chance to warm up and that I would enjoy the very short, slight downhill at 7km.  We hit 5km in around 30 minutes, which would have felt ridiculously slow were it not for the distance still to cover.  

My legs were still feeling ok, but my bra was showing signs of chafing.  What the heck?  I'd worn this particular bra all through my training and it had never given me any problems and NOW it was going to rub?  To add to this the four gels and medication in the pocket of my running tights was causing them to fall down, and I was nervously tugging at them ever few minutes to avoid giving the runners behind me a bit of an eyeful.  

Oh well, nothing to be done, so I kept running.  Around 7km in my stomach started acting up.  Fantastic!  The nerves and the huge amounts of sugar in my cereal were combining to make me feel less than stellar in the gastro department.  

I kept running regardless.  I had planned on taking my first gel around 10km in but with my stomach not playing nice I decided I would instead concentrate on walking the first few drink stations and sipping on some Leppin until I started to feel better. This proved to be an excellent strategy.  I continued to be a bit burpy throughout the whole race, but I never felt like I might need to pull over for a bit of a vomit. Given the inauspicious end to my first half marathon (my first and only DNF), that much was a relief!  

At 10km I was feeling fresh and happy to be at the start of a long gradual downhill.  We had climbed a short but noticeable hill and were about to lose most of that altitude gain over the next 5km.  From memory I knew there was a flat stretch past Hamurana Springs before the biggest hill around the 18km mark.  

It was lovely to turn onto Hamurana Rd and to be running along the lake. This road is normally closed to traffic but today was open to allow travel to and from a tangi.  Even so, traffic was light.  Had it been a clear day it would have been beautiful, but today it was grey and a touch gloomy, with a bit of a wind stirring up the water.  

At the 12km mark a local group always sets up a champagne breakfast.  I could hear the music playing as I advanced and when I rounded the corner there they were - all in fancy dress and holding out cups of bubbly.  I would have loved to have downed a few mouthfuls, but with my stomach still grumbling it wasn't an option.  I vowed that I would return next year and ran regretfully past. 

Up till now I had been running with the 4.30 female pacer.  In fact at times I had been running on her left shoulder with the balloons bumping in my face.  At each drink stop she would get away a little, and then I would catch her.  At 16km we hit the big hill. This was the hill I had been stressing about, the hill which had me running up Mt Vic in the last few weeks of my training trying to get my hill stamina to kick in.

In the end the hill was an anticlimax.  The old guy next to me who was Gallowaying his race agreed with me that it wasn't that bad, but I left him and the pacers behind me as I cruised upwards.  So THIS was the feared hill? Admittedly it did get steeper and more windy as I neared the top, but I'd run much worse back home and it gave me huuggggeee confidence.

I let the pacers catch me again on the way down, then fell back in with them.  Around the 18km mark I finally felt ok enough to down a gel, and from that point on I took a gel every 45 minutes or so.  I didn't get the whole gel down each time, but I would have gotten at least half.  I didn't notice a huge lift from them this time around but psychologically it helped to know I was getting some calories in.  

As always, it was the flat parts of the course which I found hardest psychologically.  The next big hill arrived at around 26km in and it was almost a relief.  I felt a bit cheated to arrive so quickly at the top, although the downhill was lovely!  

Before I knew it we were at the 32km mark, but it barely even registered that I was now running further than I'd ever run before.  I'd settled into a really steady plod that just kept me putting one foot in front of the other.  Another step was another step closer to the finishline.  I never 'hit the wall', and I think that's because I took it really slowly, but this part of the course was again quite flat, and it again ground on me a little.  

There was one point where I was running up a long, very slow incline.  Looking at the course elevation I think this must have been around the 35km mark.  I could see a line of people running ahead of me with nothing to break up the monotony and suddenly, without giving myself permission, I felt myself walking.  I looked at my Garmin and gave myself a one minute walk break, after which I felt good again.  I did this one more time over the last few kilometres.  So strictly speaking, I didn't end up having to Galloway the last 10km, but I did take a couple of walk breaks.  I'm a bit annoyed with myself about this.  I feel that if I were a little tougher on myself I could have kept going.  

This last part of the course was also less scenic, as we headed back towards Rotorua.  The pacer I had been running with had failed to hold the correct speed and we were about five minutes behind.  The other 4.30 pacer had disappeared and taken most of the pace group with him.  He ended up finishing a few minutes too fast! I think the group of women I had been with at the start must have gone with him, because I lost them.  

By now we were passing people who were clearly in the death zone.  Men who looked like they should easily have run a sub-4 were limping or swaying along the footpath.  It was hard not to feel pleased with myself as I passed walker after walker and it gave me momentum to keep going.  

By now the runners around me were handing round bags of gummy lollies and I thought it might be fun to give one a go.  I slipped an orange jube into my mouth, chewed on it a few times, sucked it a bit, and then realised it wasn't going anywhere but out.  I just wasn't capable of swallowing.  Feeling a little grubby I spat it into my hand and dropped it into the gutter.  Sorry!

I knew the last 7km trended ever so slightly downhill and was counting on it to bring me home.  About mid-way through the run I'd gone into a strange little zone.  When I take part in cycle races I'm incredibly social.  I chat a lot to other cyclists and call out comments to supporters.  Running races? Not so much it seems!  I had been very, very quiet for some time.  I was totally in my head.  This was a shame because the crowd support out there was excellent.  

It was a woman standing on the side of the road as we entered suburbia who changed that for me.  "Only 6km to go," she called out, "enjoy yourselves".  I realised she was right.  Here I was, running a marathon, and I was going to finish!  And not only was I going to finish, but I was going to finish in a time I was going to be happy with.  

About now I was also starting to feel a little thirsty, so I walked one last water break and lost the pacer.  She wasn't that far ahead of me and I considered catching her again but couldn't bring myself to make the effort.  Instead I concentrated on actually responding to the people who were calling out encouragement.  I in particular remember one young guy about a kilometre from the finish who appeared to have finished the race himself some time earlier.  He called out that I was nearly there and that I'd done well.  For some reason he struck me as being really sincere, and I was so grateful to him.  I wanted to yell out that it was my first marathon, but for some reason I just smiled.  

Internally there was a little groundswell of emotion.  I was doing it.  I was really doing it!  I was overtaking people all over the place, and so I switched to picking them off one after the other.  It was at this point that my body decided to rain a little on my parade.  I'd taken an extra 5mg of Hydrocortisone three and a half hours in, just to be safe.  However I hadn't taken any extra Fludrocortisone, and with one and a half kilometres to go my heart started fluttering just a little.  I tried to ignore it but it came back and, feeling a little unnerved, I dropped to a walk for a few metres.  I was really frustrated to be walking so close to the finishline, and even more annoyed when a young woman I'd brushed past on the narrow footpath minutes earlier overtook me again.  

With the fluttering dissipating I picked up the pace again and overtook a few of the women who had just overtaken me.  I felt really embarrassed but determined not to lose too much ground.  Suddenly I was at the gates to the gardens. There were spectators everywhere.  My Garmin had consistently run 200 metres long the whole way so, looking at my wrist I could tell that I had 200 metres to go.  I kicked it a little to the finishline, but in my race photos I look like I'm barely lifting my legs!  I was looking left and right, knowing Hamish would be somewhere nearby, and hoping someone else would be there to cheer for me.  

Over the first of the sensors and I got a huge shock when the announcer called my name.  Good - anyone nearby would know I was finishing!  Over the finishline, making a conscious effort to look up and not at my wrist.  I didn't want a finishing photo of myself stopping my Garmin.  As soon as I was over and I thought it was safe I hit stop.  4.37.  That'll do!  

And there was Hamish.  Just over the finishline he was on the other side of the barrier with the largest grin on his face.  I got my finisher's medal and had a photo taken.  The finisher's medal felt soooo heavy and incredibly good around my neck.  The woman in front of Hamish shifted to let him through and he leaned over the barrier for the longest hug.  I got a little teary.  

I'd finished.  I'd run the Rotorua Marathon.  And it didn't even feel that bad!  I'd never really hit the wall, just got a little psychologically weak once or twice.  I knew I had in fact paced myself really well.  I tried not to let myself think I could have gone faster.  

Hamish was a little naughty and jumped over the barrier to join me.  I wanted my cider but he hadn't been able to find any in any of the nearby stores.  As soon as I stopped I started hurting.  I had a blister on one of the toes of my right foot and boy was it now letting its presence be felt!  

I was in a huge daze as I shuffled the 10 metres or so to the volunteers removing transponders.  That 10 metres felt like an eternity.  I slumped down onto a bench next to another finisher.  He asked if it was my first marathon and I replied that it was.  He then asked if it was my last and I replied "NOPE!"  Hamish continued to hover with a huge grin on his face.  

I pulled myself to my feet and shuffled into the expo centre.  I was now incredibly thirsty so took a cup of Leppin.  Bad idea.  I took a cup of water.  For some reason I ignored the broth, which would have been perfect.  I got my finisher's shirt and I honestly don't remember ever having been so happy to receive a piece of clothing, or ever feeling that anything had ever been as well deserved.  I also grabbed the standard banana.  

Still in a daze I told Hamish I needed to sit down for a few minutes, and I shuffled into the auditorium and found a couple of empty chairs.  H handed me my merino (clever boy) and I put it on, but completely forgot about the polyprop around my waist.  As I sat down all I could think was "ouch - my glutes".  My poor butt was on fire to the point where it almost made my eyes water.  I've never felt anything quite like it!  To add to this my quads were stiffening up quite spectacularly. Walking back to the car was going to be interesting. 

However walk back to the car I did.  I walked incredibly slowly, but I got there.  It probably did me good.  After running all that way it felt good to think that there was no longer any need to worry about getting anywhere and no need to hurry at all. 

As soon as I got outside I started to shiver, and I had difficulty getting warm for the rest of the day.  I made it back to the hotel and somehow even managed to walk through the hotel lobby back to the room.  I even managed to make it into the bathroom for a very long, hot shower.  After the shower and a bit of a time spent on the bed txting and Facebooking I picked myself up again and shuffled back to the car.  By this point everything was stiff, but it was the blister on my foot that was causing the most difficulties.  Time to numb the pain - we drove back towards town in hunt of cider.  

Cider was easily found at the local Belgian pub, but unfortunately the publican was on his own and, stuck behind the bar, he couldn't cook us any food.  No frites met mayo. Oh well - the cider would do to start.  I found a table by the fire and celebrated my successful race.  Dehydration, a huge run, no food and a big glass of cider.  Hmmm - this could only go in one direction! 

The cider went down waaayyyyyy to quickly so we shuffled a few metres down the road to the Fat Dog cafe.  I found another table by a fire, as I was still having difficulty keeping warm.  All I could imagine eating at that point was a bowl of wedges, so that's what H ordered for me.  A huuugggggeeeee great big bowl arrived and I tucked in eagerly.  Unfortunately, although I was mentally ready for food (by this time it was at least 3.30 and I hadn't eaten since breakfast, having only managed a mouthful of the post-race banana), physically my stomach still wasn't working.  I managed a good stab at getting some food down, but I left a woeful pile of potato behind me. 

Back to the hotel (sharing wry laughs with other shuffling people on the street) and I found myself lying facedown on the bed.  Well, that wasn't exactly where I'd intended to end up, but it seemed to be working for me so I decided to stay there.  I may even have dozed.  

On the advice of the hotel receptionist we'd booked a 6.30 session at the private mineral spa at the QE Hospital near the lake.  The spa turned out to be the hospital's hydrotherapy pool so not exactly luxurious, but what the heck, it was private and it was hot and it was thermal.  Now of course a hot spa is exactly the last thing you're supposed to have after a marathon (all those muscle tears and inflammation don't need any more heat), but there was no way I was leaving Rotorua without a dip.  As a compromise I turned one hot shower nozzle on my shoulders while I ran cold water on my quads before jumping in.  It was bliss.  Total bliss.  I may even have stopped feeling cold for 30 minutes.  

Out of the pool and it was time to shuffle back to the car.  We headed back to Fat Dog where I huddled under a gas heater while Hamish fetched me some vegetable soup and bread.  Unfortunately my stomach STILL wasn't working.  I managed one piece of bread and about half the bowl, and finished that up with some chocolate back at the hotel.  

Still suffering from temperature regulation issues I was quick to jump under the duvet back at our room.  I went through a brief spell of feeling more than a little miserable.  I was just aching so badly everywhere!  In addition to the temperature issues and aches I was also feeling sort of uncomfortable in my skin - a kind of internal or psychological itchiness. In retrospect I suspect I was also low on cortisol.  I'd taken that extra 5mg during the race at around the time I'd normally take my mid-day dose, and hadn't taken any more at the finish.  I'd followed that up with my standard 5mg at 6pm.  So in total I'd taken only 10mg more than usual.  NOT ENOUGH!  I think if I'd doubled my 6pm dose I would have felt a lot better.  Duh ...

I slept very heavily that night, waking after around ten hours, still feeling very stiff and more than a little lethargic.  Realising that my body was still playing catch up I did at least have enough sense to double my morning dose of cortisol, and boy did that help.  I actually started to feel a little more normal. Still sore, but normal!  

Back to Fat Dog and I ordered a bowl of muesli with fruit and yoghurt.  I managed about half of that again.  It seems my stomach still wasn't working ... I was starting to feel a little concerned by this point, but there wasn't much I could do about it, so I let it go.  I did, however, ask Hamish to start off the driving.  I wanted to feel a little more on top of things before I jumped behind the wheel.  

I ended up taking over the driving at Waiouru, and was fine the rest of the way back down the country.  Still no food though.  We didn't snack at all while driving and didn't stop anywhere for lunch.  We dropped into a client of Hamish's in Waikanae so H could do a quick bit of work for them, and then we stopped by some friends' in Titahi Bay.  I was a little concerned about how I was actually going to get to their house, as they are up a long, steep and very badly formed path.  To my surprise my legs were feeling a bit better and it wasn't as much of a challenge as I'd expected.  

One glass of wine later and it was late-afternoon.  I looked over and there was a bag of potato chips.  I ate one.  It tasted good.  Minutes later the bag was almost gone.  H looked over at me and I looked back at him.  Time to go then!  We didn't stop until we were at Mavericks, our local fish and chip and pizza place.  Back home I wolfed down an entire Margarita pizza and it didn't even touch the sides.  It seemed my stomach had finally decided to work again.  It only took 30 hours.  Sheesshhhh.   

So I did it.  I ran the marathon and I finished in a time which was slow, but which was pretty much exactly the time I'd expected to finish in. I clearly had a realistic idea of my capabilities.I think I went out there with a really good knowledge of my strengths and weaknesses and where I was at with my training.  I knew from experience what works for me and what doesn't.  The best part is that I know I can easily improve.  Even if I simply don't walk the water stops next time I can cut a good chunk of time off.  If I do a few more long runs and don't have gastro issues I'd be looking to finish closer to four hours.  Even though flat courses do my head in it's tempting to find a flat, fast marathon and to attempt to really go for it.  However with so much else on my plate it's likely to be Rotorua again on next year's dance card!

As I mentioned, by Sunday evening my legs were already starting to feel a little better and by Monday I was still stiff but able to walk with a semblence of normality.  By Tuesday I was brimming over with energy and itching to get back into some exercise.  By Friday night I was being gripped by waves of euphoria as my body tried to work out what to do with all that stored energy.

To my credit I held off till Saturday, when I allowed myself a run around the Bays and back up over Maida Vale.  It's only around 7 to 8km.  I expected to feel really weak and horrid but in fact I had a great run.  Again, I tried to start out easy but on the way back got the bit between my teeth and concentrated on chicking a few guys around Te Papa.  So although I didn't wear my Garmin I think I ended up setting a really good pace.  I then followed that up with a wonderfully relaxed Balance class in a warm little puddle of sun by the windows overlooking the Terrace.  

All that training hasn't put me off running at all.  I'm focussing now on running two fast half marathons this year and I'll hopefully be able to mix that up with a few trail runs. I know that I really achieved something on Saturday.  It'd be one ticketed off the bucket list, if I had such a thing.  I ran a marathon - a freaking marathon!   

Rotorua Marathon: The Buildup

As I've posted here previously, I didn't have the perfect buildup to this, my first marathon. As I entered the last week I found myself under considerable pressure and unsure as to how to prepare. I was having real difficulties with my sacroilleac so, after Monday's 15km, ended up not doing any of my other scheduled runs. However my hip seemed to get worse as the week went on and my legs stubbornly refused to feel fresh.

To add to the stress of trying to decide whether to run or not, I seemed to have scheduled a week of errands that saw me dashing all over town like a mad thing. On Monday I felt like I was coming down with a UTI, so booked a doctor's appointment for 5.00 on Wednesday. On Tuesday morning I dashed to Penny's to drop Cleo off so that they could upgrade her derrallieur and swap the SPDs for a new pair of Look Keos. Unfortunately I'd forgotten I'd booked a 5.00 hair appointment, so at 4.00 I found myself dashing back to Penny's to pick her up again and check out my bike fit. I'd also forgotten a bike lock, so had to buy another before dashing across the road to secure her in the gym carpark, which is next to the hairdresser. I made it to my appointment with minutes to spare. Out of the hairdresser and a quick call to Hamish, who happened to be leaving work at that instant, secured our ride home in the Honda.

I had to leave work again early the next day to catch a bus back to Brooklyn to see the doctor, then ended up walking the 20 minutes from Brooklyn to home in my high heeled boots. Not so good for my hip!

I was aiming to leave work early again on Thursday, but a last minute conversation with my manager saw me carting home a heap of documents to read through that night. With little time to spare I dashed across town to Rebel Sports. I think I've already mentioned that my lucky running bandana disappeared a few weeks back, and that I think my cat stole it. Well, in a last minute fit of race-buildup paranoia I'd decided I needed another. Rebel didn't have anything, but I bought an ordinary bandana from a nearby store as a back up, then headed across to the gym. Unfortunately the Les Mills store no longer sells their branded bandanas. Another quick dash saw me in Shoe Clinic, where I finally found something I thought might work. It was getting late and cold by this point and it took forever for a bus to arrive, so by the time I made it home I was exhausted.

I spent the rest of the night reading through a heap of documents and providing feedback via email. I allowed myself to sleep in a bit the next morning and then ran around the house packing. I packed EVERYTHING!

We had a few errands to run before we left town. First we stopped off at the local Mac store to order my a new laptop, and we picked up a new iPod at the same time. After that I ran halfway across town to pick up the prescription I'd forgotten to collect the day before. I also ducked into the local health store. I have a tendency to suffer from insomnia the night before a big event and I'd decided I wanted to buy some herbal sleeping pills. The saleswoman talked me into buying some anti-insomnia/anxiety drops, and then I was off running through town again to meet Hamish back at the car.

Halfway there I found Hamish with his nose pressed up against the wall of a local art gallery. When we were in Queenstown we'd fallen in love with the Lonely Dog paintings by Ivan Clarke. It turned out that a local Wellington gallery was in the final days of a Lonely Dog exhibition. Faced with a large print of our favourite work, Marmelade Mountain, the opportunity was too good to pass up.

So it was an expensive and tiring morning before we even left Wellington, and then it was a long drive to Rotorua, with a stop in Te Horo for lunch. It was already late in the afternoon before we arrived at the hotel. When we checked in we were advised that we'd been upgraded to a premium room. Excellent! The room was on the ground floor and we were able to park right outside, with ranch slider access. We still had to walk through the main entrance to get inside the hotel itself, but if I needed to at a later point, H could let me out the french doors (or back in again), minimising the distance I would need to walk. As it turned out I never needed to ask him to go to the trouble, but it was nice to know I had that option!

Race packet pickup went smoothly and while in the exhibition hall I took the opportunity to trial a roller stick thing and ball on my calves, glutes and IT band. I think even the small time I had available really did help and I repeated the exercise with my own roller and tennis ball when I got back to the room. I still wasn't pain free, but I was walking much more normally.

Dinner ended up being bread, dips and chicken pasta with a side salad at a very good and surprisingly cheap Italian restaurant. We got in early but the restaurant quickly filled up with fit looking runner types. I stuck to lemonade while enviously watching H sip on his beer. I was sooo going to enjoy my celebratory cider the next day!

Back to the hotel room via a supermarket for breakfast supplies and I decided it was time to get organised. Running tights, sports bra, technical T and a polyprop top in one corner of the room. Running shoes tucked under a table with my Drymax socks stuffed inside. All my medication was laid out on the table next to the television. Next to the medication I placed the bowl, spoon and can opener I'd brought from home, with the cereal and tin of fruit salad next to that. In the bathroom I set out my contact lens case and fluids and my hairbrush.

On another table I put everything else I would need for the run. I assembled a small pile of gels and another little plastic bag with extra medication. I put my Garmin next to the gels. I placed the transponder in one of my running shoes and attached my race number to my shirt. That was all the obvious and pedantic stuff out of the way.

In another little pile I also gathered my fuel belt, a merino beanie and the new head band. I wasn't sure about using the fuel belt as I hadn't had a chance to test it on a long run and I was worried about chafing or that it might annoy me. I didn't in any case want to fill up all the bottles, but thought that one or two might be useful, and that the zip pocket would be useful for carrying the extra gels. I also wasn't sure whether I felt comfortable with the new headband, so was going to make a decision in the morning whether to risk it or to go with the beanie, which I had used before but which I was worried might get too hot. You see how much I was dithering that night?

In accordance with the instructions on the bottle I downed fiften drops of the anti-insomnia remedy and hit the shower, then jumped into bed to read for a while. When I was ready to turn the light out I took another fifteen drops and then ....

I'd like to say I drifted off to sleep, but it didn't happen. The medication didn't help me sleep - it just made me a calm insomniac. I wasn't dreaming - I just wasn't tossing and turning and getting frustrated like I usually do. I was however comforted by the sound of the guest in the next room regularly getting up to use the bathroom, figuring I wasn't alone in my night watch.

Some time around 4am I started to dispair ever so slightly, and it was around that point that I finally dropped off. I was awake again at 6 however, and lay there trying not to think too hard for another hour. I felt more awake than I would have expected. I have heard that insomniacs often only think they've spent the night awake, when actually they've been sleeping, so perhaps that was the case with me. However I saw the clock by the bed often enough during the night to know that I was awake for an unfortunate part of it!

Sleep or no sleep I was up and into my regular routine. Quickly dressed I downed triple my normal 5mg dose of Hydrocortisone and the rest of my other usual meds. I grabbed the newspaper from outside the door and tried to eat a bowl of Special K with the tinned fruit. I managed to get it all down, but I'd bought the wrong (overly sugary) brand of Special K, so it wasn't overly enjoyable. Breakfast would come back to haunt me.

Outside it was cold and overcast. I tried out the headband, then decided it wasn't going to work for me so swapped it for the beanie. I looked at the fuel belt dubiously and in the end decided to try stuffing four gels and meds into the little pocket in my running tights. To my surprise everything fitted. Right then - no fuel belt. I tossed my polyprop on over the top of my t shirt then put my merino jacket on over the top of that. The Garmin went round my wrist, the transponder was threated through my running shoes, and I was as ready as I was going to be.

Hamish dropped me off near the start line at around 8.15, taking a photo of me at the entrance to the park, looking nervous but excited. I left the merino in the car for him to bring to the finishline later. I forgot to ask him to do so, but hoped he would work it out for himself!

I found the bathrooms and wandered around inside the expo centre to stay warm. Too late I realised I'd forgotten to bring a banana for last-minute fuel. I couldn't find anyone I knew, so just found a quiet corner and collected my thoughts. I was feeling remarkably calm and focussed. All the years of running events had prepared me more than I'd realised. Even if I hadn't run a marathon before, I knew what I was there for and what I was supposed to do. I felt just a little lonely, but otherwise I was ok.

Before too long we were being told to gather at the startline. I placed myself halfway between the four and a half and five hour flags. Just in front of me were the two four and a half hour pacers with their pink balloons. To one side of me was a bunch of guys in their late twenties or early thirties who looked more like rugby players than runners and who were also doing their first marathon. On the other side of me were some experienced women who looked to be in their fifties and were making jokes about drinking beer. So far so good.

The start was totally without drama. I could hear but not see the haka at the start. I got a little teary. The starting gun fired loudly enough that I thought it might have deafened the guys at the front. It took two minutes to cross the startline. We walked and then a few metres before the start line we started to shuffle into a jog. I ran over the startline to the chorus of dozens of transponders engaging.

I was off. I was running the Rotorua marathon.

Finished!

I did it! I finished the Rotorua marathon in 4.37. I put down 4.35 as my finishing time, so I wasn't far off. I followed a 4.30 pacer pretty much the whole way, but unfortunately she was running slow herself (something about not having run much since her last Ironman), and would have come in a couple of minutes ahead of me.

I can't say I made my way around the course with a big grin on my face, but I certainly didn't suffer unduly. I realise now that I zoned out just a touch and went into a little Pip world all of my own! Unfortunately my stomach decided it wasn't going to play nice. I walked the water stations and sipped on Leppin until I felt confident enough to try a gel, but that wasn't until around 18km in. That was about the only bad part of the race though. The hills weren't scary at all for a Wellingtonian whose home turf is Mt Vic and the Tinakori Hills. The worst bits for me were the long flat stretches.

The weather wasn't perfect but ok. It was overcast and cool without being too cold. The Southerly dropped the temperature a bit over the last ten kilometres, but the headwind was pretty unthreatening.

I'm really proud of myself for going out there today and getting it done, even though I knew I was undertrained. There was never a question of not finishing, and I could tell from the halfway mark that I was going to come in near enough to four and a a half hours to be satisfied with my performance. 32km to 36km were a bit difficult, but then I got the bit between my teeth and kicked it a bit over the last distance. I had the biggest grin on my face at the finishline and when Hamish jumped over the barrier to hug me I had just the tiniest little cry.

I'm pretty sore now, naturally. My glutes were BURNING as I was sitting down recovering afterwards and my lower back is a bit sore to touch. One of my right toes has blistered up quite nicely and there was blood on my sock where the ball of my right foot tends to rub. My bra chafed a little as well underneath my cleavage, but not enough to break skin thankfully. However given how bad my sacroilleac has been this week I'm in excellent shape.

As I was getting my transponder taken off the guy next to me was congratulating me on my first marathon. He asked whether it would be my last and my instant response was "NO!" I've got too much room to improve and too much more to find out about myself. The only question now is which? Hmmm, Auckland?

I'm here ...

We made it to Rotorua without incident and we've been upgraded to a premium room (though premium in a 3 star hotel is still fairly standard). I've picked up my race pack (very ordinary), got foam rollered (ouch), and have carbo loaded at a good, cheap Italian restaurant with dozens of other hungry marathoners.

Now I'm back at the hotel room with gear scattered from one end of the room to the other watching bad television. I guess I'm ready to go!

The next time you hear from me I will have finished my first marathon. Woohoot!

OMG - I'm Running a Marathon!

So here it is. On Saturday I’m running the Rotorua Marathon.

I haven’t posted anything here since returning from my holiday (sorry Kate), simply because I’ve been all over the place both physically and mentally. I got through my peak week of training on sheer willpower, with my body fraying at the edges. I took a few days off, conquered the Grape Ride, and then the theory was that I would fit my training runs in around road tripping down to the South Island to my father-in-law’s vineyard in Bannockburn to help with harvest.

The day after the Grape Ride I was supposed to run 23km. I think I managed around 7. In Lake Tekapo I lurched panting and red faced around the side of the lake in a freezing gale, wondering why it all felt so hard. 15km was all I was good for. The next morning there was five inches of snow on the ground, so running was again out of the question. When we made it to Methven that afternoon there was a horrendous northwest gale blowing down long straight, soul destroying roads, so again I didn’t run.

After that things got worse. There were times when I didn’t run at all for a couple of days in a row. The runs that I did fit in were pretty horrendous. They weren’t long enough and I battled nausea, cramp and shortness of breath. I was so annoyed with myself for missing out on the opportunity to explore the beautiful back roads and trails of Central Otago. What a waste …

Instead I got into holiday mode. I ate too much, drank too much, put on weight I could ill afford. I also spent three wonderful days walking up and down long rows picking grapes. I enjoyed myself immensely, when I wasn’t beating myself up about not sticking to the programme.

Back home and I threw myself into a panicked attempt at regaining lost ground. In theory I was supposed to be tapering, but how could I taper from a holiday of minimal distance? So yes, I gave in to paranoia and my runs ended up being slightly longer, slightly hillier, slightly faster. The good news was that they all felt great. Finally, on the last possible day, I made the call and signed up for the marathon. I knew that I’d feel worse if I pulled out than if I’d entered and struggled to finish.

I’ve spent this week trying to battle the nerves, and trying to get into a constructive mindset. On the one hand I’m really, really happy and excited to be doing this. On the other I feel terribly undercooked. There’s a reason why most training programmes are 16 weeks long! I would like to have done a few more 28km+ runs. I’m also wishing the long runs I did do were hillier. I wish that my hip weren’t still bugging me.

When it comes down to it I’m just going to have to go out tough it out. Unlike Frayed Laces before Boston I can at least walk without excruciating pain! I want to go out there and have fun. I don’t want to spend the whole 42.2km cursing myself for not training enough, or for deciding to enter in the first place. All I have to do is keep placing one foot in front of the other. If that means walking bits then so be it.

People around me have been very interested in my time goals. The correct response is of course that time doesn’t matter. However there are times floating around in my head. There’s the time I might eventually be capable of, the time I would like to do the marathon in and an outer-limit time. At the moment I think I’m likely to finish somewhere between the second and third figures.

Right now I just have to focus on not losing it before I even get to the finish. In the past I’ve really good at being my own worst enemy on race day. I haven’t made things easy on myself either as I’ve been running around madly trying to organise too many things this week. My green headband went missing (I suspect the cat stole it), I still haven’t worked out how I’m going to carry all my gels and extra medication, and yesterday I suddenly realised there isn’t a microwave in the hotel room, leaving my usual breakfast option out of the question.

Really, I just need to chill out, accept that I can’t control everything, and go out there and have fun. I’m running a marathon! OMG!

Back in Wellington

We arrived back in Wellington just after 10 last night and I was up early for a quick ride around the Bays before a day dancing in the sun at Summerset at the Basin.

I'll post more about my adventures (and my abject failure to maintain my marathon training programme) soon, but in the meantime go check out Hamish's album of holiday shots.

South Island Holiday

These photos are all out of order, but anyway! This is part of the view from my father-in-law's vineyard in Bannockburn, Central Otago. The grapes are going to be ready for harvesting in a few days. Richard lives in a big huge red barn with living accomodation upstairs, and this is a section of the view from the veranda. In this photo the Crown Range is barely visible in the distance. Out of picture to the right is the Pisa Range, which is topped with snow.

Mt Cook, or Aoraki. We had great luck with the weather on the day we visited. We were in the sun but only a few short kilometres away there was cloud cover and rain.

Lake Tekapo the morning after the big snowfall. Cold! The melt was already well underway by this point.


Poor Cleo has about four inches of snow on her saddle ...

Hamish calls this my "Pip freaking out" photo, as in "OMG - we're going to be stuck here by the snow!"
Lake Tekapo the day before. Still lovely at this stage. The weather closed in a few hours later. note though that it was extremely windy and that the wind was cold, a warning sign.

Me about four kilometres into my 15km run and really feeling it. Altitude training, apparently!

The Northwesterly blowing up a big cloud bank in Canterbury. Very stunning skies.

Marble Mountain near Springs Junction. There is an earthquake fault about 100 metres away, easily identifiable on walking through the field as a large rise and then fall in the topography. This is where I ran my 7kms the day after the Grape Ride.


Marble Mountain again!

I ran 12 kilometres today on a beautiful sunny, calm Bannockburn morning. Plenty of short sharp hills and a long flattish section on gravel alongside the lake. Beautiful! It still felt hard though, but I suspect that was the result of all the wine I've been drinking. 28km tomorrow, which means I should probably stop drinking Rose and start drinking water ....

More photos to follow!

A valid excuse this time ...

We stayed at Lake Tekapo last night and thankfully we rented a cabin and didn't break out the tent. We spent the night at the hot pools with the temperature steadily dropping. When we went to bed at around 10.30 it was raining pretty hard. At 2.30a.m. I woke up and, realising that the rain had stopped, decided it would be a good time to make a dash for the bathroom. I opened up the cabin door and .....

There were big fat flakes of snow pouring down from the sky. In early April.

When I woke again at 7 there was a good four or so inches of snow on the ground. Poor Cleo, on the bike rack on the back of the car, was coated. Pretty much every person on the campsite was walking around with a bewildered grin on their faces. It was incredibly, stupendously beautiful.

So yeah, I didn't run today, but I think I had a reasonably good excuse. I know some of you American types run right through the snow, but I'm a thin blooded North Island Kiwi, and I don't have appropriate snow-running gear.

Today, I was a bit of a wimp.

(Photos of the unseasonable snow dump to follow)

On Holiday ...

So it seems that it's not a good idea to go on holiday at the business end of a marathon training programme. Who would have thought?

As I commented in my last post, after Tuesday's run when everything started to hurt I decided not to run again until after the Grape Ride. Well, that strategy appeared to work well for the race. We caught the ferry down on Friday afternoon, spent a quiet night in our cottage in Renwick, and then the next morning Hamish dropped me off at the start line.

The morning dawned clear but cold and I amused everyone around me by shaking uncontrollably while waiting to start. It was a relief to get moving, but we turned straight into a frigid wind and it took forever to start to warm up. However almost straight away I latched onto a team of women who were heading northwards at around 35kmph. I greedily sat on their wheel most of the way to Picton, though around halfway we hit a monster headwind and I started to take my fair turn at pulling.

Somewhere on the hill up to Picton I lost them all, but I wasn't too worried because I knew that Queen Charlotte Drive would be a bit of a solo effort anyway. The headwind was a real feature of the last 10km or so up to Picton and really did slow everyone down. Queen Charlotte was thankfully more sheltered. Mahikipawa Hill felt much easier than last year and I spun up at a satisfyingly high cadence.

Once on the flat again we hit the headwind at its strongest and it became clear that a bunch needed to be formed. I jumped on the wheel of a woman around my age, another woman jumped in behind me, and soon we had a collection of riders all sharing the lead. It took a bit to get the bunch dynamics sorted, but we were soon working together quite well. We were all used to using different hand signals, so there was a bit of discussion back and forth to get everything organised.

Once we got to Havelock we turned in towards Renwick and the fun began. Finally we had a bit of a tail wind. For the last 15km or so I was sitting on between 38 to 42kmph. Once I knew I was close to the finish line I got the bit between my teeth and just went for it. I was seeing speeds on my cycle computer I would never have thought possible.

It seemed like no time at all before I was at the finish line. In the end I cut half an hour off last year's time. On one ride a week of training and a dodgy hip I would call that a success! A lot went well with this ride. I found good people to ride with, I ate constantly (I got through three Power Bars over the 101km ride), and I hydrated well. I had a huge amount of fun as well, and I felt great afterwards. It was wonderful to arrive at the end and have Hamish hand me a chilli bin with a bottle of cider inside it. There are times when I really love that man!

I felt pretty lethargic the next day, but that was partly a lack of sleep catching up with me. I was supposed to run 23km and I should have woken up early and fitted it in before we left Renwick. Instead it was already quite late by the time we set up camp at a DOC campsite near Springs Junction. As a compromise, because it was a beautiful evening and the surroundings were stunning, I ran 7km along the side of the main road. When I got back we headed off to Maruia Springs, which I can highly recommend. We spent some time in the attractive main pools outside by the river, and some time in a private bath house. Afterwards we sat in the bar drinking beer and cider and eating hot chocolate cake with ice cream.

Up again today, and another day of driving. We made it as far as Methven today. We were going to go down the West Coast but the forecast was for heavy rain and thunderstorms, so we chose East. Today I haven't run at all. I just felt it would have been selfish to have headed out on my own and left Hamish at the campsite again and, besides, there's the worst Northwester blowing. I intend to get up and run long tomorrow morning, after which we're off to Lake Tekapo. We're going to go kayaking on the lake, right up to a glacier.

It will be easier to fit in the running once I'm in Central Otago. Right now I have to accept that there are times when I have to have a life outside of running. I'm still going to get round this marathon ... I hope. In the meantime I'm having the best holiday ever.

Help Me People!

Last week was my peak week of marathon training. I did my 32km run on Sunday after a fairly grumpy 55km bike ride the day before where I was goaded into sprinting into the wind and aggravated my hip. Being both grumpy and extremely busy I skipped the run off the bike. So I didn't quite make all my scheduled runs, but five out of six wasn't bad.

This week is an 'easy' week. I ran 8km on Monday and did 35 minutes of intervals last night. Tonight I'm supposed to be running 60 minutes of hills and tomorrow I'm down for 12km. The Grape Ride is on Saturday - a 101km bike ride, and then on Sunday I'm supposed to run 23km.

Here's the thing though. I'm thinking about skipping tonight's run. My hip still hasn't settled from Saturday and the intervals didn't help it. There's a pain down the top of my right quad that I know is hip-related, and I'm conscious I'm starting to avoid putting too much weight on that leg when I'm standing, which is something I do when my hip starts to go.

The arch of my right foot is still achy and I don't want it to deteriorate. Plus now there's a bit of a pain developing down the inside of my left ankle. Quite frankly, I feel a little like I'm falling apart.

I HATE missing scheduled workouts, particularly my loved Wednesday hill runs. However a programme is an 'ideal scenario', right? It's something written at a certain point in time which assumes nothing will go wrong enroute. A programme isn't flexible. A programme is a list of things to do. You can't tell a programme that you're having a bad day, or that your knee hurts, or that you're just too busy. You can't tell a programme that you're tired.

So I figure, as much as I hate skipping runs, this one missed run isn't going to kill my marathon. On the other hand, not listening to my body and going out there and running anyway might. Imagine if I ran tonight and was in agony tomorrow? How stupid would I feel?

Ironically I'm feeling sore but not tired. Even so, there's a part of me that would like to just go home and rest and have a shot at feeling good when I run tomorrow. Plus, I want to have a good ride on Saturday.

Oh, and buying new shoes this close to the marathon? Bad idea. They're just another pair of the Adidas shoes I always buy, but getting them was just another stressor to add to the mix. They're the same size as usual but they feel tighter. At least I know I can take them back, and they looked great on video - no heel rollover whatsoever.

So I will go home, drink a glass of wine, enjoy time with Hamish and the cats and try not to spend the evening second-guessing myself. I might even start packing for our South Island holiday so that I'm not running round like crazy on Friday morning.

I need to remember that I know myself well enough by now to know that I'm doing the right thing not running tonight. I just haven't quite worked out how to stop beating myself up about it yet!