Will I Ever Compete Again?

One year ago today, I faced the biggest devastation of my life.

The 20 year relationship with my husband came crashing down.

My world stopped in a heartbeat.

The pain was poison in my veins.

Inconceivable and uncontrollable.

It caused any sign of joy to be stripped from my being.

There were days my heart was being crushed in a vice.

My chest ached from heaving with guttural cries.

My eyes were perpetually red and swollen from the endless tears.

The grief pouring out of me was torturous.

I didn’t recognise the empty soulless vision staring back at me from the mirror.

The life had been sucked out of me.

So as you can imagine, competing was not high on my list of priorities. However, running was. I knew from past experience how beneficial exercise is for my mental well being. So as hard as it was, I dragged my sorry arse out of bed EVERY day and laced up my boots. My mind and my body were tired, but I knew how much I needed it. My philosophy has always been, ‘The less I feel like it, the more I need it.’

In the beginning I was so distraught; I would only run by myself for fear of not stringing two words together without exploding into tears. Those early runs were cold, dark and extremely lonely. Very often my relentless tears would be streaming down my face with each step. I would run with my head down to hide from the outside world. Some days I would get home not even knowing where I had run or for how long (thank goodness for GPS watches).

Gradually as I felt stronger I would raise my head and run in the daylight. The benign smiles from other athletes were like heaven in my tumultuous tornado of emotion. If only they knew how much impact their simple gesture lightened my life.

Before too long I began to feel better, I was healing. Life began to expose a little colour to me and I was enjoying being outside rather than curled up in the foetal position under my covers. When I returned home from a run I had a little hope for light at the end of the dark tunnel. I have always looked at my run as a feel good, a natural high. Although it had been illusive for a time, I knew my runners high would return and I was fervently in search of it.

I started to run longer. It was like the washing machine of my mind. I would come home with clarity of thought and the intensity of my agonising emotion was tapering (pardon the pun).

Was I using running as my crutch? Absolutely! I rationalised it by saying, it’s better than playing the victim, feeling sorry for myself and comfort eating myself into the abyss. Running has always been a passion but now it was a necessity to get through my day. It also helped me sleep when the dark, threatening thoughts returned in the dead of night.

After six months some of my running buddies were asking what I was competing/ participating in next. They knew I loved to chase the podium and surely with all the kms I was pounding out, I was training for something. Yes indeed, my sanity! I was not interested in pushing myself hard, life was hard enough. I had lost my drive and motivation to beat anything but the demons. I had no desire at all to compete at all!

When I finally found the courage to run in groups again, I noticed the conversation helped me forget my woes. I would run for a couple of hours in a cheerful world full of colour and compassion. My friends were so encouraging and loving. Some days they would talk because they knew I couldn’t and other days they just listened. They were helping me find my way back.

Running was forming a new definition in my life. I had always run to see how far I could push myself, to see what mental limits I could smash and what else my body could achieve. I was always doing whatever it took to chase a PB. It was always a competition within my mind and my body. It has never been hard for me to put the work in physically, I JFDI!  I loved it. Now this was the furthest thing from my mind.

And for the first time I didn’t have the fight in me. This is when I knew running had become a new definition in my life. Each step was a vice, an outlet, an instrument to channel my peace. It was therapeutic in ways I had never imagined. It was my safe place. It helped me find my strong. Besides the curative company my friends had given me, running was the key to unlock the door to happiness again. Running is now my first go to if I am having a bad day (besides chocolate of course). When I feel the slightest bit of anxiety or I’ve had a stressful day at work, my SUUNTO is always charged and on the ready.

Each cleansing breath I take helps me find a new version of me. Finding myself is what I yearn. A solace overwhelms me out on the trails. Nature is my nurture. The sun refreshes me, the earth rejuvenates me and the water calms me. This is my heaven.

A year on, I am so grateful to be coming out the other side with my mind intact and my heart restored. Yes I have bad days and that is part of life for me for right now. But I have found my strong and loving my running again. It is a lifestyle that I want to be doing for a long time, not a fast time so….

Will I ever compete again?  I’m not sure if I need to……

Contemplation Time

Two sleeps after completing the Sunny Coast half marathon, I trotted out to do a recovery jog and loosen up my body. Much to my disappointment I still had significant pain in my right calf, enough so, I put the brakes on after only 100 metres and returned home. The searing pain was knife-like stabbing into the back of my lower leg. I simply needed more rest. I was feeling the effects of running a hard 21.1km, so I knew it would do me good.

At the end of the week, I was still unable to run, at all. I had obviously done more damage than originally thought. I took myself to the Doctor and booked an ultrasound that afternoon.  It was cold and slimy as the probe rolled over my leg. Lying on my stomach, the undecipherable picture on the screen appeared as a bunch of fibrous tissue. Worst-case-scenario thoughts flew around my mind like race cars. I was unnecessarily torturing myself. I couldn’t wait any longer and blurted out. ‘Have I torn anything?’ Only really wanting a reply if the answer if it was No.

I saw a dark patch that stood out like an expectant Mum’s tum. ‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ was the reply. What…….?! You are going to leave me here to endure more torment? What sort of establishment purposely inflicts suffering and distress? I heard my daughter’s words in my head. ‘Calm the farm, Mum.’ Yes, breathe and stop thinking. My over-analysing tendencies were in full flight. I needed to know the outcome. The sooner I knew, the sooner I could deal with what comes next.

The attendant returned to my room to inform me he had spoken to the reporting Dr and I would need Physio. ‘Physio??’ I wasn’t sure if the question was my head or I if sprouted it out loud. My puzzled face provoked him to continue. ‘You have a 2.4cm tear in your Plantaris muscle, so no running for a month and you will need physio to move the hematoma that has formed.’ Never had I imagined this extent of damage. My breath was shallow as I fought to hide my shock. One month?? I couldn’t go a whole month without endorphins. I can’t function without my high. My rationale one of a drug addict. I’ve already had a week off and that has nearly killed me. Okay, okay so now my exaggeration tendencies are rearing their ugly heads as well.

2.4cm calf tear with haematoma

Sitting in my car, I dialled my husband’s number praying he was available to talk. He was extremely patient listening as my initially calm demeanour reported all the facts. My voice devoid of emotion.  A silent pause, then…….‘How do you feel about it?’ Knowing me so well and understanding what running means to me, he had to ask. With his concerning words touching the vulnerability I was trying so hard to disguise, I lost it. The damn wall being cracked, tears tumbled down my face. I tried to speak, only to come out as I illegible babble. I realised I was devastated. My passion lies in running. It fills my life with positives on many levels. I love the endorphin hit, the freedom I feel, the clarity of thought it gives me, allowing me to feast on treats and it dispels all the crazy in my life.

Most of all though, I love the running community and the remarkable people I have met along my journey. I am constantly being inspired by watching others kick their goals and sometimes smash them to the curb. I am constantly motivated to challenge myself to become more; to be the best I can be. Running buddies have become friends and confidants I share the inner most part of myself with. As the onslaught of my blubbering eventually subsided, I realised it was these aspects I would be grieving for the next 30 days.

To keep my aerobic capacity up, my coach decided it would be a good idea to swim. I detest swimming! I hated the idea. It had to be forty degrees for me to contemplate getting in the water. Even though it was spring and warming up, it was still cold at dawn. At the very most, I would think about it.

Two days later I came down with the flu. It floored me for two weeks and I was miserable. I hit victim mode and felt sorry for myself. As if a torn calf was not enough, I was bombarded with the flu as well. I felt like I was getting depressed, I hid away from the world. One of my girlfriends kindly pointed out that it was the best time to get the flu as I couldn’t run anyway, may as well get it all over and done with together. It was a positive theory, but it didn’t help.

Getting the kids off to school, I climbed back into bed to sulk and reflected on the last few months of my training. Leading in to the half marathon, I became quite complacent about it all and each training session was a struggle. Usually I am not one to pull out of a session and I didn’t allow myself to, until the week before. Up until then I kept pushing through the pain when my body was obviously fatigued. It is so much easier to see it clearly when not in the situation. Looking back my body was exhausted and screaming at me for a rest. Hence getting a vicious calf tear and contracting the flu.

So instead of feeling sorry for myself, I decided to take on a different challenge. I bucked up, willed myself out of it and looked at my recovery as a self-healing process. I nurtured myself and rested my mind and body. I gave myself what I needed rather than trying to fight against it to get out there to run as soon as I could. The minute I decided that, I became happier within myself and actually looked forward to my rest.

I had massage on my calf twice a week and when the effects of the flu subsided, commenced cycling. These help to keep muscles supple and active, allowing blood flow to help heal the area. I bathed in Epsom salts and sprayed liquid magnesium on my calf every couple of hours. These practices have helped me heal quickly and come back stronger.

On reflection, I had lost my mojo and love for running. Each session was feeling like a chore, rather than pleasure. I feel I had overtrained and was run down. I am not sure my body had recovered enough from my operation and sickness I experienced earlier in the year, so now it was time to allow my body and mind to do just that.

I am now back running after six weeks off. I felt my calf wasn’t quite right after the fifth week and being very cautious, decided to give it another week to strengthen a little more. It was probably ready, but there is no way I was going to come back too early and jeopardize doing more damage and having another few weeks off. I could cope with one more week, not another five.

Over the past couple of weeks since shaking the flu, I have been cycling, stationary and on the road. This has been a great way to keep some strength and aerobic capacity. Because I have been able to ease back into it and train with no agenda, I have really been enjoying my running again. I run when I feel like it and at the pace I wish. No pressure, no program, no pain. It is fun again.

I think we go through different stages of what we need from running. And we will certainly get out of running what we put into it. But for me right now is about contemplation time. I need to decide if and what my next goals will be. Well llet’s be honest here, it will be what, not if? Although I have competed in all distances from 100metres to full marathons and all in between, I need to decide what my next goal will be. This year my goal has been to decrease my 5km time to see if I can be competitive at National level for next year. One thing I have realised is that I am not really interested in running 5km on a track. I have done 3km and that was mundane enough. I get more pleasure from road races, but I may have an opportunity to be part of a Queensland relay team in the 800m or 1500m if I can get my times down low enough. So for me right now, it is about contemplation……..decisions, decisions!!

There is no hurry though to decide anything just yet, the Australian Masters Championships are not until April next year. Also the World Championships happen to be on our home turf in Australia, so maybe that can be an option……..after all, how often am I going to have the opportunity to adorn the Green and Gold?

Stay tuned for my 2016 goals. But until then stay happy and have fun on the run!

Sunshine Coast Half Marathon~ It’s about time!

It has been a few weeks since the running of my half marathon. I have sat in this very chair many times to report back to you, but my typing fingers have been on strike. In fact my whole body has been on strike and my mind decided to join it.

After having completed my first Marathon last year, this year my training has changed to suit a new goal. It has been to decrease my 5km time enough to see if I might be competitive at the Australian Masters National Championships next year. So for me to throw in a half marathon mid-season was not really on the agenda. I registered for it months ago, so now I looked upon it as shaking things up a bit, nothing to get too serious about. My training hasn’t been based on running a fast half marathon. Throw in an operation, time off with sickness and you could say I didn’t have the best preparation. So I treated it like any other Sunday run, but I still wanted to challenge myself and run it as fast my body would allow.

My week leading up to the event was an absolute ‘shocker.’ I seem to be exhausted every minute I was awake. Usually if I wake feeling tired, I can go for a run, get a shot of endorphins and sunshine and be bouncing again. But this week, it was an effort to do anything. The more I pushed myself, the worse it got. I was mentally and emotionally exhausted as well as physically. The smallest of incidents would trigger an unending stream of tears. Maybe I was hormonal too, who knew? I was too tired to even contemplate what the cause might be, all I could think about was how it would affect my race on Sunday. And to top it all off, I could feel a strain in my calf that had been there for a couple of weeks. I kept telling myself I just had to get through one more race, I could then take some time off.

My training sessions this week were very slow and not productive. Because of the lack of quality, I was not getting the benefit I was aiming for. After completing a session I would fall in a big heap and want to sleep. I decided to skip the next training session and half the distance of my remaining ones to allow my body to rest. Once I stopped fighting the way I felt and allowed myself to recover, it was easier to cope with mentally. I could only do what I was capable of on the day. After all, a half marathon was not my goal, so in the big scheme of things, how much did the result matter? This is how I justified it in my mind. I let it go and for the rest of the week focused on filling up my body with good quality food, stayed well hydrated and got plenty of sleep.

I had many friends running the full marathon and wanted to be there early to see them off and absorb the electric atmosphere. Running on my home turf gives the ultimate motivation. To swoop past familiar faces, fellow training buddies and be cheered by other non-participating competitors is a feeling worth bottling. For me, nothing compares. I couldn’t wait to get out there. Bring on that starter gun.

Even though this was not supposed to be a big deal for me, the nerves were bouncing around in my stomach making me feel uneasy. The only cure for this was to get started. As soon as my legs started turning over, I knew I could get on with the job at hand rather than mull it over in my mind for the fiftieth time.

I needed a target time to ensure I had a race plan to follow; I function better this way. I didn’t have an exact time in mind, although anything sub one hour and forty minutes I would be very happy with. Even one second under would be great. Coming first in my age group was also floating around in the back of my mind, but after the lead up week I had, I was lucky to be running at all. Maybe I could let that one go!

After farewelling my Marathon friends, twenty minutes later, I was standing on the start line with my stomach still churning. ‘Where was my family? I wonder if they have arrived yet. Will they see me off? I sure could use a reassuring cheer to get me on my way.’ Five minutes later I gave up the search to find them in the ever-increasing crowd.

A count down to the gun echoing through the speakers found me amidst the crowd, jostling to find my place. I prefer not to get caught in a pack, I need space to breathe and I like to see what’s ahead. It took a while for the pack to filter out. I wanted to keep my pace under 4.45 mins per km, but for the first couple of kms, I was determined not to get caught up in the fast pace. I wanted warm up my body properly and ensure I wouldn’t fade toward the end. I was feeling much better, the rest had done wonders. I was not at my best, but feeling great considering the struggle I had to run five days ago. I could feel my calf was, shall I say, a little more than a niggle, but I could still run without it effecting my stride, so I continued with a keen dedication.

The 5km mark saw us heading back where we started. Coming into the crowd certainly was morale building.  In the sea of faces, I could see my son and daughter cheering for me. I felt a tear spring to my eye. ‘Good job Mum…… Looking good…….. Go Dee……… keep that pace, you’re doing great.’ The voices of my friends, my hubby, my cherubs and our running group. My day was complete. Well, not quite, still another 19km to go, but that made moment made my day. It was time to get on with the job. I decided to step it up a little at this point, the encouragement spurring me on.

By the 12km mark, I was starting to feel it and my pace had slowed. I had been pushing pretty hard and my body was starting to fatigue. I could feel pushing past my comfort zone was demanding on my whole system.  I had to pace myself now with still 9km to go, I didn’t want to crash and burn. It was feeling like I wouldn’t reach my sub 1.40 goal.

I was passing some of the marathoners and giving some words of inspiration. The stuff I needed to hear, I think. It was getting hot out there and they still had multiple laps to go. ‘You’ve got this…….you can do it……..keep going………you’re looking strong.’ Before I knew it, I had only 5km to go. My body was aching and I could feel some intense pain in my calf. ‘I only have a Park Run to go’, I told myself, ‘you can do this’. Head down, bum up, I focussed on using my larger muscles to get me through. I lifted a little and pulled that finish line toward me.

As I rounded the corner with 1 km to go, I saw my son leaning against the telephone pole. He had agreed to run to the finish line and bring me home. He stood there very unenthused with an uninterested yawn escaping his mouth. I ran to the inside and pleaded, ‘Please come with me.’ I was so grateful when he jumped in beside me. Pre race, we had discussed finishing with a sub 4 min km but I knew I didn’t have that left. He was so patient, yet insistent with me, ‘Come on Mum, keep breathing……..nice and deep. Faster Mum, we’re nearly there…….Breathe!’ I felt like telling him where to get off, I was doing the best I could, but I knew it was the fatigue talking and I was grateful to have his help. After all, he was doing exactly what I had asked him to do.

His fresh young legs were so much faster than mine but I fought to keep up. I was mortified to find he was leaving me just before the home stretch, but there was only 200m to go and he knew I would fight every inch of it for a PB. My calf was now inflicting a piercing pain and my lungs were shot, but I kept pushing. The roaring crowd was bringing me home and helped me dig deeper. With pain written all over my face, I ran as hard as I could. Again I saw my family’s faces and I knew I could do it. I rounded the last bend over taking another 3 people to cross the line in 1:36.36. I was well under my goal and so very relieved. I had done it and was proud that I was able to finish.

The cheerful faces of the volunteers were a welcome delight. One of them kindly draped my hard-earned medal around my neck and ushered me toward the refreshment tables. I grabbed a handful of fruit and water and headed for our tent. My family greeted me with big hugs and again my tears flowed. I was so glad to be able to fall into the arms of my loved ones after a gruelling run……..the best part of finishing a race.

As my muscles began to cool, I could feel the damage in my right calf becoming more noticable. It didn’t feel like anything serious, but I would need some time off for it to recover. Something I could do now my half marathon was over. But for today, I would celebrate with my fellow runners on all of our achievements.

5km- Sub 20 Minute Attempt

I knew I had my surgery coming up, so I wanted to test my current fitness levels and have a 5km hit out. I usually do my 5km Time Trials (TT) in the same place for accuracy. Different tracks can have very different perceived results for the same distance. So I ventured off to Kawana Park Run to give it a crack.

My previous Personal Best (PB) time was 20.22 mins which was eight weeks before. I have been doing speed and strength work since then, so theoretically I could have gotten faster. All week leading up to Saturday, I became a little anxious as I put pressure on myself…..again! This is such an energy zapper, so I slapped myself in the face and pulled it together. I was going out to attempt a 5km run in under 20 mins. I could either do it or I couldn’t…… there was no use worrying about it!

I lathered myself in my favourite relaxation and preparation tool (magnesium spray) and I was off to bed for an early night. I awoke with familiar butterflies doing circle work in my tummy. Comprehending pushing myself so hard is intimidating enough, let alone aiming for such a fast time. That was the stench of self-doubt in the air.

I could feel it was cold outside and dressed appropriately in my long Skins and a blue T-shirt. Whenever I attempt a PB, I always wear a pink singlet, it makes me run faster. Today however, I decided to challenge that belief and dress for comfort.  I scoffed a banana, gulped my pre run drink, grabbed the cherubs and we were off.

The wind bitterly nipped at our noses and ears. It was 4 degrees and gusty, not conducive for a PB attempt. As I had my surgery booked for next week, this was my last chance. I knew I would lose fitness during the recovery phase of surgery, so favourable conditions or not, I was still going out to run as planned. We rounded the corner to a rainbow painted sunrise of pink, purple, orange and yellow. This scene of delight is why I love to rise at ‘ridiculous o’clock’ to go out in the middle of winter for a run.

During my usual 3km warm up, I didn’t take off my jumper or my gloves. I had frost bite on my face and my runny nose had turned to icicles. Well, not quite, but I was bloody cold. It didn’t even feel like I had warmed my body up properly.

I repeatedly told myself it was too cold to be trying for a sub 20mins. To pull out today and come back to do it another time was the easy option. This attitude was not going to get me to the Masters National Championships next year; it was time to ‘suck it up’ and get on with it! Period.

I stripped down and jogged up to the start line. King Waz had me do some run throughs on the road to keep my heart rate up and my body warm. He had been carrying a bit of soreness, so he wasn’t able to help pace me today, looks like I will be doing it alone. A tough ask, but I was up for it.

Me in blue on the right. Pushing up the Hill

There was a countdown to the commencement. Three, two, one, Go! My first km goal was 3.50 mins per km and I came in a little fast at 3.47. It is only 3 secs but for me running at that speed too early, I can blow myself up and really feel it toward to end. The second km is uphill, so we allowed a little more for that one at 4mins flat. All week this is the km I was worried about, wondering if I could push that hard up the hill. No I couldn’t. I came in at 4.12. Now I had to make up time. I had a little more uphill and I pushed harder. My body still hadn’t warmed up properly, I was cold.

I rounded the light house to be smacked in the face by a glacial head wind. It felt like it literally pushed me backward. It was brutal! As I pushed as hard as I could through the resistance, it seemed futile. It was at this point I nearly gave in and slowed to a comfortable pace, thinking it wasn’t going to happen today. I already had time to make up and now I had extra resistance. Triumph for this attempt was not looking good.

Then I felt the downward side of the hill ease the resistance against my body somewhat. I hoped the trees may provide some shelter from the onslaught of the open ocean air-blast. With the positivity of these two aspects flying through my mind, I put on my ‘You Can Do It’ hat and drove down the hill. I knew I was half way and done hard work to get me to this point, I didn’t want to throw that away. ‘Never Give Up‘ was echoing through my head. I often use these words as a reminder when the going gets tough.

My third and subsequent km times were to be 4.00 mins flat and then to finish as hard as I could. I had a 10 second variable in case I needed it and boy, did I need it. 4 min pace was going to be challenging with this confronting wind and being behind time already. My third km downhill was 4.05 and then I hit the flat fourth km. The trees seem to be more sparse and the wind stronger, but I think I was just getting more tired. One of my friends Zac, who knew what I was up to, caught up to me to help me out. It is great having this kind of encouraging running community who so willingly support each other. I was grateful to have him on board.

I was out of breath, but managed to express to him how much I was struggling at this point. I find this fourth km the most challenging. It is usually where I lose time. My legs were weary, my throat burned from the cold air and I though I was going to vomit. All I was doing at this point was putting one foot in front of the other, I was unmistakably in pain.

I was telling myself ‘One step at a time, keep going.’ Zac told me to slice through the air like a pizza cutter and it gave me something other than my pain to focus on. I knew I should be concentrating on my technique to keep me strong, but because of this confronting battle with the wind, I was way beyond that, now it was all about survival! My defiance didn’t allow me to surrender, but it was certainly a fight.

Between now and the finish line, I was not going to look at my watch, I was just going to give it everything I had left, which wasn’t much at all. My watch beeped to inform me I had entered the last km. Knowing I only had one to go, lifted me somewhat and I found something within. I tried to gradually build up like a steam train to the finish. It is a fine line between going too early and not having anything left and picking the perfect time to step it up. I saw the car park ahead and knew there was about 100m to go and gave it a last ditch sprint attempt.

Sprinting home with Zac

Looking back on my splits, my fourth km was a blow out of 4.17 and this is where I had let myself down, but finishing on 3.51 when I was exhausted made me pleased. Today I did not achieve a sub 20 minute result; I finished with a time of 20.12 mins. My initial reaction was disappointment as I fixated on my short fall. It was a measly 12 seconds. As I cool downed with my Coach, he reminded me, I had earned myself a 20 second PB on last time and that was something to be proud of. So I tried to focus on that instead of being so hard on myself.

I will certainly be having another shot at it when I am fit after surgery. It would be nice to have more favourable weather conditions next time, but you can never pick the plight of your race. Part of being an athlete is to be able to adapt to whatever is thrown at you and not chuck in the towel. Always do your best with whatever you are given and continue to drive yourself forward.

Not long ago, I would have looked at this effort as a failure, and for a short time I did fall into that trap, but there is a world of learning in it for me and with that extra knowledge, I can make myself better. I continually learn something new about myself on my running journey and that is empowering.

So watch this space for my next attempt…….maybe I will wear pink instead of blue!

Forced To Stop!

My stomach rumbled with hunger pangs as I mindlessly stared at the TV awaiting my time to be called into surgery. An emergency had arisen with a child who had gone in as a priority and I was next on the list. I sat contemplating my running journey to this point. Having this operation would set back me back. I was bound to lose my fitness level and muscle strength resting through the recovery period and not being able to exercise. The Dr told me it would be approximately 2 wks off the track, maybe three. Saying I was not thrilled about the whole idea, was being very polite!

I was already missing a carnival I had trained three months for and I have a half marathon coming up in five weeks. So it was not good timing, but I suppose it never is. There is always something on the calender to be training for. So it was time to change my attitude and focus on getting healthy again ASAP.

Four hours later I awoke to the nurse calling my name and offering a cube of ice. Oooohhhhh my aching head…..what a feeling! My nose was blocked and felt twice the size and my mouth was so dry, my voice was absent. My throat felt like gravel from having tubes shoved down and my whole face felt swollen. And I had what felt like a bandaged tampon under my nose to catch all the bleeding – not a pretty sight.

However on the upside, my septum is no longer deviated, but straight. It will allow the air to no longer circumlocate through my nose, but to flow through with ease. Hopefully making breathing a lot easier by having two nostrils to suck air through, rather than one and a bit. Oh an added benefit may be improving my running by allow more airflow into my body. Fingers crossed on that one.

The first few days I was in pain and the pain killers took their toll on me. I was tired all the time and felt very woozy.  As the recovery days passed by and I began to breathe a little freer, I was like a caged lion raring to get outside and run. My coach bought around his exercise bike for me to use, but as soon as I pushed myself a little, I would get dizzy and my heart would race, so I canned that idea for a few days. I just had to suck it up and do as I was told, stop training! I’m not very good at that.

Also the emotional effects of not running were catching up with me. The runners high we all love had been stolen from me. I had no endorphins surging around my body and I was beginning to feel a little down. I knew I had to hold it together a little longer. It was hard taking my kids to training and watching everybody else run while I was car bound. I was being a sook and I knew it. This wasn’t a first world problem…….although to me it felt like it at that moment. Running is a passion for me and without it, life isn’t as fulfilling. As you can see, rationale wasn’t kicking in at any level at this point.

Friday, seven days after my operation, I was back lying on a hospital bed staring at the ceiling awaiting the Dr’s arrival. Today I was to find out how long until I could pump that pavement. The nurse painfully extracted the stents from my nose. Any wonder I couldn’t breathe, they were huge, as long and as wide as my index finger. Immediately after removal, I could breathe with painless ease. Wow, what a difference.

The Dr. entered and prattled on about how well the surgery went and what steps the procedure took. I did hear some words in there about how well it had healed. He must’ve seen the glaze over my eyes and asked if I had any questions. Before he finished his sentence, I blurted out, ‘How long until I can run again?’ I braced myself for the very same answer he had given me a week previous.  Lucky I was laying down as his response nearly floored me, ‘It all looks good, so wait until the end of weekend and Go For It.’ He proceeded to explain that I need to take it easy and there may be bleeding and if so I had to stop….blah blah blah. I wasn’t even listening, I didn’t care. I COULD run!! In two days, I could run again!

My excitement was evident as I exited the hospital and pranced back to my car, the ridiculous smile on my face was a dead giveaway. I could now focus on getting fit for my next adventure, but before I do that, I am going to enjoy my last two days of rest………Well maybe one, I might slip out the back door for a sneaky run tomorrow. I told you I’m not good at doing what I am told! Sssssshhhhhh don’t tell the Dr.

10km Race…….How I did I Go?

How do you measure your performance in a race? For me I always have a goal, whether it is a time or a place I am aiming for. Sometimes it is both, but one consistency is that when I race, I am always chasing a Personal Best. I always bring it back to doing better than I did last time.

I haven’t run a 10km race for 2 years (6 months after I started running) and my time then was 55 mins. So I was unsure of what I could achieve. King Waz, my Coach, had in mind what he thought I was capable of, but I wasn’t sure I had that in me yet.

I have run many 10km’s in training and so I knew I could do under 50mins and recently I achieved 48mins in the middle of a 22km run, so my thoughts were anything under 45mins would be great. King Waz however, had other ideas. He wanted me to aim for less. OMG really?? I was sure I couldn’t manage that!!

He told me my goal time at my last speed session 4 days before the race. I freaked out and then put it to the back of my mind. I find this is the best way to deal with it so I don’t go into self doubt. By now I should know better than to question my Coach. Every time he gives me, what I would class as unrealistic goal, he is right, I have achieved it.

A couple of days before the race the predictable self-sabotage started, telling myself I can’t possibly achieve it, putting undue pressure on myself. What I have learnt in the last few months is to trust in the training and to have faith in my body.

King Waz gives me training to suit the goals I have, so I know I have put in the hard yards. Based on what I can give in a training session, he knows exactly what I can achieve in a race. There is a science to it, I am yet to understand. But Waz does and knows without a doubt what I am capable of. He has trained many elite athletes to great heights in the past and knows how to get me where I want to go. So at this point I just let go and trust in him, my training and my body. So by the night before the race, the pressure was released I felt much more confident. At worst I would still achieve a PB.

There are many variables that can affect performance. Preparation is one of them. Not having ever raced in the afternoon, I was unsure of how to prepare. Usually I get up, have a banana and go. With the race being at 4pm in the evening, I didn’t know what to eat when and how long before. I ended up having a one hr nap, which I don’t usually do and didn’t know if it was a good idea. All I know is I was tired, so I did.

My son and I

I arrived at the race and was delighted to see many of my friends; it took my mind off the race for a while. I wasn’t nervous at all. I went for my warm up and focussed on the race plan. I had a last minute ‘confidence building’ chat with the King and nestled my way up to the front of the start line. One of my friends encouraged me up the front so as to not get caught behind the crowd. I placed myself behind the elite male runners.

The starting horn sounded and as I was determining how my body felt as I raced along. I noticed I was getting caught up in the hype of the start and going WAY too hard. I was supposed to start at a nice comfortable pace of 4.20 min/km and I was doing about 3.35 staying with the men. I didn’t need to be doing that.

I slowed right down and allowed a group of runners to pass me while I followed my game plan. I have a tendency to go out to hard and suffer for it later in a race. Being a longer 10km race, I knew I had to follow the plan so I didn’t blow up.

For the first couple of kms I was feeling good so for the 3^rd, I stepped up the pace to 4.15.  I was to hold this pace until the last couple of kms. I seem to be breathing well and had gotten into a nice rhythm.

Couldn’t speak, managed a thumbs up

As I rounded the corner back into the crowd, I could hear friends yelling out encouragement. It always gives me a boost and a smile. There were camera flashes and ‘Woo Hoos’ all around. Heading out the other way was the mentally challenging part of the course. I seem to be heading out to the middle of nowhere. It was great to have someone in front of me to keep me focussed.

My pace slowed a little to 4.20 but I stepped it up again after the turn around point. I knew I had a little to make up and was coming back into the track part of the course which was the half way point. My son and coach were there with their encouraging words telling me I was right on track and to keep going. I was still feeling good.

I had passed a couple of the men and they were incredibly supportive, spurring me on with their words. I had no idea what my position was in the race, that was not on my agenda for the day, it was to aim for a time. One of the men told me I was the second female and to go catch the first. Second female?? Surely there were more ahead than that. My coach also confirmed I was in second place.

‘I wonder if I can catch her? No, just stick to the race plan, stay on pace. Don’t worry about anyone else, just run your own race,’ I was not going to have this battle in my head. I rounded the corner of the 6km mark and saw her up ahead. She must have slowed down, because I was still sitting on my desired pace.

Taking First Place

It took another km and I rounded her up just as we were coming into the crowded area at about the 7km mark. She was struggling with her breathing and her posture was beginning to slouch.  She clapped me as I passed her, what a truly selfless gesture. It meant a lot to me.

Heading back out to no man’s land, I could feel my body beginning to tire and it was all I could do to hold my pace. People were starting to drop back and I was passing quite a few of the men ahead of me. It was great seeing the familiar faces and the occasional clap from both men and women. It encouraged me to keep going through my fatigue.

I had my coach’s voice in my head and at the 8km mark I was supposed to step the pace up if I had enough left in my tank. I didn’t think I had enough in me for 2 fast kms, so I waited until the 9km and gave the last one everything I had, finishing on a 4 min km.

With having 500m to go, I could hear my coach yelling to ‘Bring it Home.’ I had trained to finish hard and fast. There was nearly a full lap of the track to finish in front of the crowd. As soon as I hit the track I was off. My son was running around the inside of the track with me yelling, ‘Come on Mum, you can do it. Push!’ It was nice to have him beside me when I was struggling to sprint to the finish line.

Overtaking two more on the home stretch with 80m to go.

At this point, I actually had no idea of whether I was on track to my goal time. Not once had I looked at my watch for time, only pace. I must’ve been behind time for them to be pushing me this hard. So I dug deep and gave it everything passing another two males before hitting the finish line. I could hear my coach being interviewed over the loud speaker as I hit the deck in exhaustion. I heard him say my time of 42.39. My net time was 42.34.

The goal time King Waz had set for me was 42.30. I followed the race plan and was 4 secs over. I had achieved it; I was ecstatic. I didn’t think I could do it, but I did. Hitting my goal time was a huge PB and was the only thing I was focussed on and taking first place was an added bonus.

Post Race Presentations

Saying Goodbye to One of Our Own

Today was a sad day in our running community, as we farewelled one of our beloved members. A woman of great standing and even greater prominence. Not because she was loud or outspoken, in fact she was soft and quiet, but her very presence stood alone in its grandeur.  We all loved Flo.

On the outside, you would never know her insides were fighting a monster. Flo stood tall with her dignity in place and held tightly to the life she had left. Her many months of life after her diagnoses, ruthlessly defied the doctors three months expectancy. But that too was in her cheeky nature, no one was going to tell her how long she would live, that was up to her!

Even though being diagnosed with this dreaded disease, she would attend Park Run with vigour every time. She looked forward to coming and we adored seeing her. It was our mutual weekly therapy sessions together. As often as she could, she would be there striding around the picturesque lakes with her extended family.

You see, this was no ordinary Lady; she shone from the inside out and radiated an energy of compassion and tenderness. Regardless of how she felt, she always offered a loving smile to everyone, even those she had yet to meet. Her kindness and selflessness was felt near and far.

Throughout her journey, we all became her extended family following the progress of her health closely. We all fell in love with her kind-hearted spirit and willed her to extend her battle a little longer. None of us wanted to let go. Her will was strong and she fought on and on. Family to Flo was everything and that is what she fought for. Saying goodbye was just not an option.

Toward the end, she felt constant pain and discomfort and yet she battled on through it all with grace. Three weeks ago I asked how she was doing and still with that huge smile on her face, she shared ‘Not very well at all.’ Not only was her body aching, but I am sure her heart was too. The scars on her heart were always kept polished; she knew they had shaped her into the merciful lady she had become.

She taught me many a life lesson without ever trying; her very nature was the teacher. She was resilient, with a gentle toughness in the face of adversity. She showed me the rollercoaster of life was normal, but it is how you ride it that matters. Fabulous Flo taught me to fight with courage and dignity and to love and laugh whenever possible.  And most importantly, she taught me how to tell naughty jokes with elegance.

Her life had meaning to so many and this was shown when her daughter Donella had shirts made up for us as a support team in her Mums honour. We wore them with pride in support of the fight for her life. We all become known as the ‘Fabulous Flo Fighters.’

On the weekend, many of our athletes participated in the Gold Coast Marathon. We wore our singlets with distinction knowing we were running with a piece of her heart in ours. There were scores of ‘Fabulous Flo’ shirts and many a meaningful tear was shed in honour of this special lady. Little did we know she had quietly slipped away the previous evening.

For us she was a true hero, she inspired many of us in a variety ways to make ourselves better and to make our lives matter. She motivated countless people to step out of their comfort zones and challenge themselves to do more and be more. Her love and kindness touched many hearts and her life was admired by all. She leaves a wonderful legacy we will all cherish and keep safe in our hearts.  We will carry on her legacy by living what she taught us.  She was pure love and sprinkled it where ever she went.

After attending the touching service today, I viewed a spectacular rainbow on my way home and without a doubt in my mind, I know it was sent by the one and only Fabulous Flo. From up in heaven, she is still gracing us with her beauty and presence.

We thank you Flo, for sharing the gift of your life with us.

Battling the Mental Demons

Today is ‘that’ day, battling my Demons!  I have to admit, rarely do I engage in these Battle of Wills my mind creates, however today is certainly the exception. As a rule, I steer as far away as possible from this poisonous viewpoint. It is TOXIC!

I feel grateful to have grown up with an inbuilt belief system about my ability when it comes to sport. My parents were both athletic people who always engaged in sporting activity and for many years, my father reached elite levels in his field. So as a child, it was common practise and it seemed quite normal to be running around chasing a ball of any shape, a white line or even a black line. This was an essential part of growing up and occurred practically every day of the week (and twice on Sundays.) Sport was our religion.

I would always to jump in and ‘have a go’ and was often chosen for representative teams to compete at a higher level. I never took it all too seriously and had many fun bus trips away with my teammates. I had many talented coaches over the years and I learnt very quickly that if I wanted to be better, I had to work harder……….and so I did. My self-belief in the sporting arena grew and I adopted the belief ‘I know I can do it.’

So where did that belief go at 5am this morning at the track?? It was a 10 x 400m repeat speed session I had planned and from the onset, I was defeated! I was telling myself I couldn’t do it. Today I had to step my rep times up and I just knew I wasn’t ready to achieve them…….yet. Wow, why was I thinking this? Where did this come from? As I have been known to do far too often, I started to analyse everything – my nutrition, my sleep, my supplements, looking for a reason to justify the way I felt.

I started the first rep slow and built from there, with every lap getting harder and harder and I am supposed to be staying consistent and building towards the end. I am telling myself there is NO WAY I can do it. I was putting huge pressure on myself and feeling guilty at the same time for feeling like I was being slack.

Most of my training is in the dark, early in the morning and of late there has been rain to add to the pleasantries. It has been tough going, but winter is only three months long. Today it felt like it had been around for twelve months and it was never going to end. I thoroughly enjoy training by myself, but it is days like this it would be a warm welcome to have a running buddy for support and to keep spirits high. Speed sessions, hills reps and other forms of intense training are hardcore and so much easier to face with company. But to find someone who is running a similar pace and is available at ridiculous hours that I train is a rarity.

I hit my third last rep and it is tough. I am 3-4 secs slower than where I need to be. I know 3 – 4 secs doesn’t sound like much, but it is a lot to find when I my legs are dead and my mind is against me. How am I going to manage to belt out two more at a faster pace?

I turned my music up and took off for my second last rep and went as hard as I knew I could leaving some in the tank for the last one. Every step I was pushing and hurting but I kept going…….knowing I only had one more to go. I crossed the line and was excited to see I was within one second of my goal time. I was exhausted and drowning in lactic acid. I had a one minute recovery and sucking in air like a mad woman.

With the seconds ticking down I am running out of time to procrastinate and push off the start line. I am focussing on using my bigger, stronger muscles to get me there but they too were fatigued. Every muscle ached and all I could do was focus on one step at a time, the whole 400m was too overwhelming in one haul. The pain in my body was unbearable and I kept telling myself I was nearly there while the other voice was saying ‘it’s ok to stop’. The battle in my head was in full flight. With one foot in front of the other, I was not going to give up; I was going to finish this. And I did with a time my mind told me I couldn’t do.

Two days ago I ran 22km at an average pace of 4.48min/ km. It was the longest and hardest run I had done in a long while and what I hadn’t allowed myself to understand was the toll it had taken on my body. It was only when I completed the set, did I realise. Here I am beating myself up about not being able to achieve my desired times and my body is screaming at me!

It is a fine line between listening to what my body needs and beating myself up. I need to get better at reading the signs. The times I achieved today were faster than I should have with the big run under my belt and I should be proud of the efforts, but it is easier to focus on the latter. My body needs some nurture and recovery, not more mental punishment.

I didn’t need to miss my training session this morning, but I could have been a lot gentler with myself along the way. I typically have a strong mind that is intolerant of my weakness and in this circumstance; it could have been very detrimental. I am grateful to have a coach who can read me and helps me to understand what is happening when I can’t see it for the trees.

So note to self- ‘Listen to your body and what it needs. Sometimes it needs a swift kick in the ___ and other times it doesn’t.’ I seem to be good at the kicks and not so good at the being kind bit. Something for me to work on.

Welcome to my World – and into my mind

I have created this space to share my crazy journey into the world of running. For me running was always a quick easy way to keep fit, but I ALWAYS found it hard work. Being fit and healthy has always been a part of my lifestyle but my exercise of choice was usually netball, gym work or aerobics DVDs in front of the TV. Some days it was simply walking.

As a child, even though I had some athletic ability, I found running so boring and anti-social. That is why I loved the team sports, more friends to talk to. These days as I have become a Mother, my lifestyle has changed dramatically – as all you Mums out there can attest to.

Although I previously jogged around for a bit, I really only started running about two and a half years ago. And I must say that was because of my kids, not through my desire to actually run. They both showed a keen interest in their Cross Country at school, so we signed them up to a six run series. I boldly stated to my husband, “If they can do it, so can we,” so we signed up as a family. Oh My God, what had I done? This was indeed going to test my determination.

There were many distances to choose from and I decided on the shortest one possible – the 3km, wondering how I was ever going to make the distance. My goal for the first race was to get over the line without walking, no matter how long it took me. I was determined to be a good role model for my kids and show them (and me) I could do it. It was only a small goal, but at the time, it was huge for me. I was petrified, but I wanted to see I could set a goal and achieve it. And this is where it all began……..

These days I still take the same philosophy, I set a goal and work to achieve it.  I push myself much harder now than then, but the action is the still same. Set a goal, put in the work to attain it and set another goal.  I have always been intrigued by how the body works and what it can achieve. I have a background in massage and personal training and although I did these for a short time working with others, ultimately it was for me to understand my body better and how it functions. The human body has fascinated me since I was child.

So today, pushing the limits to see exactly what my body can do, I set the bar much higher.  It is certainly a work in progress and I must say, there are days when I question my very existence as a runner, especially when the pain of the disappointments hit. Then there are days I accomplish more than I ever dreamed and possess such pride in my success and little by little, I gain more belief in my ability. I find myself swimming in the alluring emotion of my triumphs.

Running teaches me countless lessons I can apply to all areas of life; the ups, the downs and how to navigate my way through them – sometimes with dignity, sometimes with an intense lack of decorum. I am definitely still learning. I am a student in the craft and hope to be for a long time to come. So jump on board, strap yourself in and come along for the ride into my world and my mind.