Je Maintiendrai

In 4 hours, I head to the airport (or is that aeroport as an Aussie??)

The week has been intense. That engine has been a bugger to fix. Almost scrapped it. So, not great mental preparation, but training has gone well and I have no niggles (what's that, an ultra runner without niggles?!?). Of course, taper week should bring out at least some psychosomatic (made up) ones! :)

On Saturday at noon Dutch time (6 pm Saturday in WA and 4 AM Saturday in Alberta, mum), I will begin running the 2.314km loop through Steenbergen. As I run, I am representing Australia. I will wear the coat of arms on my chest.

Aussie Coat of Arms

Yesterday, taking my poor neglected motorcycle for a head-calming spin in the autumn air, I contemplated...what does it mean to represent Australia? Athletes do this at international events, but what does it really mean? What does it mean to me, if anything?

Am I standing guard somehow for my country? Going into a modern day "battle" of sorts? Defending our flag against William of Orange and his ultra running descendants?

If I am out there to bring honour and to somehow defend my nation, without gun or sword, then what am I doing? What good do I do in running around in circles for 24 hours? Surely 22,620,400 Australians are going to go about their day having no idea that the roo and emu are going up against the three lions! Hardly seems fair! (But, Go Herbivores!)

Dutch coat of arms

Well, I can't speak to anyone else's reasons for being there and to their feelings of representing. I have decided that I am representing health and wellness, fitness, and longevity. I am running to fight obesity, apathy, binge drinking, and overwork. If I am battling in order to make my country a better place, then those are the things I will vanquish.

I have the battle dress at the ready. I will paint my nails orange and channel a little King Billy (William of Orange, that is). A Dutch man who, no matter what else he did or how, became king of England in the 1600s (Do the British teach that part of history? ha ha). I have the Inov-8s with the Aussie green on them, but the Fastwitch orange are at the ready!

My coat of arms (knife is for cutting pears, of course!)

I even have my own monogram! ;) 

(Okay, Beatrix might have something else to say about that, but I'm sure she's generous enough to share!)

By the way, Je Maintiendrai is the Dutch motto and means "I will maintain."

A Partial Engine Rebuild Whilst Preparing for Worlds

Well, running an engine dry is not a good thing. Oil keeps all the parts cool. No oil, no cooling. Hot engine components = expanded engine components. Expanded components bind against other components. And then they essentially melt and seize. Ouch. That was my brain!

How it's supposed to look if you don't run it dry ;)

I've been living on the red line for a long time. It was a heck of a ride - loads of fun. Only I wasn't stopping to check the oil. I started to notice a bad smell and a few tapping noises, but just kept going! ;)

Then the knocking and grinding sounds from inside the engine of my brain got too loud to ignore.

Boy, it's been a lot of hard work, sweat, tears, and banged knuckles to clean it up! Fortunately, a partial rebuild was all that was necessary and nearly all the parts have arrived. Of course, sometimes as you're rebuilding an engine you discover other things that should be replaced along the way - things you didn't count on. Maybe a few new wires, perhaps a new rad cap.

So, what HAVE I actually been doing for the past three weeks? Preparing for World 24hr Championships is a heck of a time to blow your engine up! :)

I thought I might share what my preparation has entailed this month:

Test driving the new Compressport trail running gear!

1-7 April: 126k +3300mtr. This was my peak volume week. Long runs, hill runs, all easy paced stuff. On Friday I discovered a very painful-to-touch large lump in the inguinal area - that fold at your groin between your thigh and pubic area. I considered a bug bite possibility and iced it. Saturday night, staring at it again, I self-diagnose inguinal hernia (or femoral, perhaps). Have been shifting house and moving big wardrobes and such for days in a row. I try to push it back in (ouch), google, text a few people for advice. Sunday morning's run plan is 40k of hills over 8 'peaks' and 6 hours. I cut a notch out of my knickers so they don't touch the spot and go running in the morning.

8-14 April: 103k +2750mtr. Another big week with hills but mostly easy paces. Get to physio on Thursday and the lump has gone by then, but touching the area gives a weird "crunchy" or
"cartilage-type" feeling. She queries vascular incident and I am waitlisted for sports doc. I get permission to do my brutal training again, as "if it's a hernia, it will just come back - you'll know." And if not, hooray. But the brutal training is important to my race prep. So I go home and hammer out a bunch of core work and lunges.

15-21 April: 80k +1200mtr. Speedwork and long tempos begin. Back to the track, where there are no PBs on well-used legs. I get a consult with the sports doc, ultrasound that afternoon. No hernia. Inflamed inguinal lymph nodes. Fighting infection(s). Not surprising - my stress levels have been pretty extreme. Saturday is spent flagging a course for a 50k ultra I direct on Sunday. Cooler weather finally hits on the weekend and it's the nicest for running in four months. The 12k/25k/50k races go well and it's a joy to see people achieve their goals. (Still working on cleaning up the piston sticking out of the engine - work starts at 7 am and finishes at 11 pm, 7 days a week, when not training. Thank dog for training.)

The 40k "hernia" run

22-28 April: 77k +1000mtr. More speedwork and long tempos. Still enjoying the hill runs midweek and weekend. Running has been a joy throughout the "engine rebuild" time. It's often the only time I feel real happiness in the day. Weekly massage and physio continue. Get back to the gym for a "real" brutal training session, finally. Paper cup ice massage saves the legs many times over. Minor setback in recovery. Bought the wrong set of rings and seals. Not ready to cruise the highways yet! Focus more on my diet - things I can do to help myself. More Udo's Oil, more avocados, kale, yams, turmeric on everything. Get an opportunity to check out the Alter-G anti-gravity treadmill (more to come on that!) Slowly transitioning to a higher-fat-lower-carb diet (who'd have thought I'd be advocating fat!).

29 April. Resting heart rate glimpses back down to 35-36. Cortisol levels appear to be better. Oh yeah, time to start scrubbing the oil out from under my fingernails! Things are coming together! Push lawn mower and yard work for strength training. Blog. Make notes of "to-do" for Worlds...including my race pace calculations and food plan that must be written.

At least I can't fall off the back of this one!

Am hoping to blog more very soon on some of the things I've mentioned - the Alter-G, the new Compressport trail gear, and the ketogenic diet (high fat), turmeric and other nutritional tidbits. And about my race plans for July-September: Swissalpine 78k and IronTrail 201k (both in Switzerland) and Lost Soul 100 Mile (Canada).

A New Injury

Somewhat tongue in cheek, yet at the same time all too serious. This is, in a unique way, the most serious injury I've had to date. It's an acquired brain injury of sorts. Brought on not by over-training, but by over-lifing!

To say I'm passionate about the sport would be an understatement. I love running, I love racing, I love coaching, I love researching the science, I love helping advance the sport through communities of trail and ultra runners locally, nationally, and internationally. I love race directing and volunteering, watching runners improve, get fitter, and achieve their goals. I also happen to love a few other things quite passionately, like child psychology.

Unfortunately, my passion bolted out the farm gate and I got my foot caught in one stirrup. I was being dragged along, getting bumped and bruised, for far too long.

Fortunately, the horse ran out of steam before it killed me. He's come to a halt and I've been able to quickly release my foot, stumble home, and sign up for riding lessons. I have to put this thoroughbred back in the stable until I get the right reins and know how to control him.

In the meantime, I'm going to saddle up a nice 26 year old mare named Thunder. ;)

I've assessed the internal damage, which includes a lingering high resting heart rate, a nervous "jumpiness," and a leaping heart when my phone 'bings' to notify me of a new message. I'm not sure how long it will last. Fortunately, running is still a joy for me and sooths my aching brain every time I hit the trails. I've just shifted house (along with moving home-based businesses, this was another major - though good - stress). The new place has a yard so large I didn't even find the orange trees for a week! (They grow between the lime trees, with the grape vines intertwined). The home backs onto a park, which in turn is 1km from the 35 square km or so of hilly bushlands around Wungong gorge.

Part of last week's 126k +3300mtr training for World 24s

I have resigned as vice president of AURA, as I discovered all too late that "an association like that can take as much as you can give" (thanks, Evan, for the tip!). I loved my involvement in the sport in that role and trying to make a contribution to better the sport nationally and internationally for all ultra runners... but I just couldn't find my "off" switch. There was always something else that could be done and I was damned well going to try to do it.

Once the dust settles a bit, I think I'll still find a few other areas I need to cut back on. The ride on the thoroughbred was really exciting for a while, but then it got rather scary, as I was just holding on for dear life! My goal is to find that girl who used to have time to research articles for her blog, who used to make Choco-Goodness bars for her running mates and massage therapist, who used to ride her motorcycle.

Anyone else out there need riding lessons?

Teaching an Old Dog a New Trick: Chasing Bikes

After my pre-race withdrawal from the Coburg 6hr on the 7th, I spent the next 48 hours on a google hunt. I was like a possessed woman.

I needed a replacement race.

I spied a few trail races around Oz and abroad. I even sent a message out to my TNF100 crew from last year - Paul Charteris, the race director of the Tarawera Ultra in New Zealand. It was slated to be run on the 16th. He was still accepting entries. My partner encouraged me. It was tempting.

And then reason - ahhh, precious reason - slapped me across the face and brought me out of my daydream. I wasn't trained for a 100km technical trail race. Although I'd been running distance and hills, I hadn't been honing the technical skills. In fact, I was running the downhill technical bits a little cautiously the past few weeks. My goal was a 6hr track race, so spraining my ankle on a trail would have been a silly thing to do. If I wanted to run that race and be pleased with my effort, I'd have wanted to have been hammering the descents over the past few weeks, really strengthening the neural connections that guide me spatially and the stability tendons in the ankles. Plus, I'd be an idiot not to have my own crew there.

Matilda Bay - around to the yachts for the turn-around point

Back to google.

But the answer was staring at me the whole time - taped to my wall above my monitor. The local marathon club's calendar of events. The "Perth 32." A strange distance. That pleased me. It was weird. It was also a 10 minute drive from home and was run alongside the pretty Swan River. My mates suggested I could run it twice. Ha ha.

So I had a not-quite-right taper, as I'd tapered the week before already. I ran a 3k solo race around my little lake on Tuesday when the track turned out to be closed for a junior meet. Then I ran my usual 15k of hills on Wednesday. Why not. The taper was a bit mucked up, anyway. Thursday and Friday I rested from running again. Saturday I did my normal pre-race 3k/3min sprint regime.

Sunday morning beetroot juice broke the fast. At the start line I didn't know which of the girls to keep an eye on. And there was a 10k race starting at the same time. So until the 10k turn around point, I wouldn't even know which race what girls were in. I saw 4 or 5 take off in front of me, but knew there could have been more in the pack out front.

A good running mate got in beside me and started with the abuse (he's one of my best "psychological" trainers, due to his penchant for heaping abuse on our trail runs!). I don't know if he knew I was a no-talker during races, though. So he got lots of abuse in over 5k before he finally dropped off, wishing me well.

Early temps were around 20 degrees, which was fairly pleasant, but it was also fairly humid. And I was running under a 4.30 pace (the plan). Actually, according to Garmin, because it's so bad for overestimating distance, I ran a lot of "4min23sec" kilometres. Not really, but by Garmin's account. I knew from experience that I had to keep the pace about 5 seconds lower by Garmin to give me an accurate near 4.30 pace.

Pointed back towards the finish line. Past the CBD. Don't look that far ahead!

Based on predictions, I should be capable of something between 2hr24m30s and 2hr25m30s. I figured I'd aim to hold just under a 4.30 pace and if I thought there was too much still in the tank with 5 or 10km to go (ha ha, but let's be optimistic), I'd pick it up a wee bit. Just in case there was a 2hr20 in there somewhere ;)

Well, there wasn't!

But back to the race....I did pass a few girls who made the 10k turn-around. But I knew there was at least one more in front in the long race and probably two. At 12k, I caught sight of one. I got to within 70 metres of her and - perhaps for the first time - she glanced back and saw me. She picked up the pace a bit. I stuck with my pace and let her to do her thing. It was too early to start a sprint for the finish. She only made about 10 metres on me, then faltered a bit. I got within 50 metres. She picked it up. And so it went for 3km. At 15k, I finally reached her, as she could no longer keep making the little pushes. I tried to be a bit decisive about my pass and she sent out an encouraging "Well done." I wanted to say something, but didn't know what. If I'd been passed, I would have said the same. But it seemed that there was nothing I could say that would sound respectful to a person racing hard when passing them. The most respect thing I thought I could do was to not say anything that might seem patronising like "Same to you" or "Good job."

Near the turn around (which was actually the 18.5km mark, as the course wasn't a complete out-and-back), a bloke on his way back called out to me - "First Lady!" Shit. Seriously? No, don't believe that. Run your race, Bernadette. A few more cheers. At the turn-around a girl on a bike says to the marshal, "See you later" and rides out in front of me.

I HAVE THE LEAD BIKE! Oh my dog. I'm 43 years old, running a bitumen "short" race and I have the lead bike! I pass two girls on their way to the turn-around too close for my liking. I want to keep putting the distance between us. But there's a long way to go yet.

The girl on the bike seems to go so fast. I can't keep up to her and I start getting mad. Then I have a little wake-up call and realise that she's going to attempt to stay 100 metres in front of me no matter what pace I run. If I kill myself trying to catch her, I will succeed in killing myself. I remember her job is to help me find the way and warn other users I'm coming. At least I think that's her job. I've never been with the lead bike.

Privileged to get my medal from AUS marathon champ Lauren Shelley

As I approach each aid station, roughly 5km apart, I play my usual game of trying to divvy up one cup of water between my head, the front of my chest, and down my back, leaving a few drops for the throat. I'm carrying a 200 ml handheld, but it's running dry. It's getting hot. We're into a headwind now, which provides a bit of a breeze, but the sweat rate is high.

With about 6km to go, I take 15 seconds to have a volly refill my handheld. My pace is suffering now because I am so bloody thirsty. Whatever level of dehydration I can go to without a performance hit, I've reached it. Joyously, with less than 2km to go, there's another aid station I wasn't expecting. I dump water on my shirt. Suddenly, it weighs a ton! I feel like I've just added a kilo of weight - so, am I running faster because I'm cooler now or slower cuz I'm heavier?!? Argh! I wring out some water from the front of my shirt with one hand and keep chasing that bike.

To motivate myself, I imagine a girl coming up from behind, taking the lead, and watching that lead bike pull away with her. It's a visual I refuse to allow into reality. Yet a few kilometres dip into the "4.37" on the Garmin. I see the 1km sign and flip the Garmin back to "Total Time." Throughout the race I've run just 4 minutes 30 seconds at a time. Now I see the total for the first time. It reads 2:21:05.

I cannot run a sub 4 minute km now. But I'll run as hard as I can.

2:25:25.

Time for a trail run.

All Trained up and Nowhere to go

Melbourne's having a heat wave. The Coburg 6hr race is in two days.

28th Feb: Masters 10k State champ :-) 

According to a formula I believe was developed by Jack Daniels, that means I'll lose 5 to 9 seconds per kilometre (more as the heat climbs through the morning).

The race director even moved the start from 8 AM to 6 AM. But with a cloudy night forecast to insulate things, night time temps are staying at 23-24 degrees. Then climbing up to 32 degrees and sunny. That means I should expect to lose at least a couple kilometres off my potential 6hr distance. Agonising.

I know everyone else at the start line faces the same challenge. But my goal for this race was to attempt some 6hr records. I know I can run 70.406km in 6hrs. My personal challenge was to run more. There are already a zillion things that need to go right at an event - nutrition, hydration, shoe selection (fit, tightness of laces etc), injury prevention, toilet stop needs.... to add heat to the mix stacks the odds too highly against me.

I waited until the last possible minute last night to decide - whilst I could still change my flight booked for this morning. I stood outside under the stars and imagined this would be my start line temperature. It was a perfect temperature ... for sitting under the stars.

I sacrificed so much and trained so hard for this. The costs and time for massage and physio weekly, for the hours of training, for the bloody brutal strength training and the speed work and track races, for being careful about my diet so as to not put on weight before the event.... Filled with all the greed of "I want this race!" that clouds rational thinking and the inflexibility of "But this is the plan!", I had once again to revert to science to tell me what the emotional brain didn't want to hear.

10k State Masters - these people have taught me a lot

Yes, I'm lucky to have this simple little problem. I'm lucky it's not injury. I'm lucky it's not cancer or heart disease. I'm lucky I don't live in a war-torn country. I'm lucky my family and friends love me.

But for the evening, I just needed to let myself feel sad.

Now, I'll find somewhere to go.

Run on a Treadmill... it's Patriotic

I've blogged before about altitude houses and altitude tents - a normobaric (normal pressure) environment but reduced with oxygen (hypoxic). It's a method that tries to simulate the effects to blood (and the oxygen carrying capacity of blood) that comes from really being at altitude. These effects can be beneficial to athletes. However, research isn't all that positive towards hypoxic as a replacement for hypobaric conditions.

There's currently a study happening in Perth where they are looking at what happens to iron levels in athletes who train in hypoxic conditions. This is important for our Aussie athletes, particularly, who can't go train at 3,000 metres within this relatively low-lying country. The Australian Institute of Sport puts top Aussie athletes in a hypoxic setting that reduces their oxygen to try to simulate what you get at 3,000 metres.

So, you, dear "endurance runner" can quite possibly help our Australian athletes and maybe even yourself, by participating if you're in Perth. The research study is investigating short bouts of hypoxic exercise on iron levels in the blood. You must be a runner (not cyclist-only), and can be in track, tri, trail and/or ultra. You must be 18-40 years old. You can possibly have a history of iron deficiency - talk to the researcher about this. You must be training at least 6x/wk and do interval-type work as part of your training. It involves 4 sessions at UWA with blood drawn (time to be tough!). You'll get your VO2max out of it and your iron levels. And the glory of helping advance science. Maybe that next Olympic athlete will be thanking you for what you helped discover ;) I'll warn you now, though, VO2max testing is NOT sexy! You will foam at the mouth, sweat more than any interval session you've ever done, and will feel like a beaten dog by the time you're done. After that, every time you do an interval session, you'll be grateful that you don't have to do it with a nose plug and a tube shoved in your mouth! In short, it's an experience not to be missed! :)

You can reach the researcher, Andrew Govus, at a.govus@ecu.edu.au.

Spread the word.

And tell him to let me come and play. I'm apparently too old :)

Adjunct or Essential?

Running. It's all about the running.

Ice cup massage, ahhhh!

Or is it? Or should it be? More and more these days I'm noting all these "non-running" things I'm doing that seem rather important to my running success.

In no specific order, here are some things I'm seeing as more essential than adjunct.

(1) Ice Cup Massage - paper cup of frozen water, peeled back bit by bit, actively icing whilst massaging. Has seemed particularly good for periostitis (shin splints), done after every run at a minimum. Done three times a day is probably better, particularly for nagging things like little tendons around the feet and ankles. Frozen water bottle rolled under my foot was incredible for the "Bib foot" issues and to help recovery after foot massages.

(2) Compression - calf guards and quad guards for the tired legs, whilst running or afterwards. To avoid over-use problems with the guards, like irritating a tendon around the ankle such as the peroneals or achilles, one can also use full socks. They don't have a 'compression' point like sleeves do if you're wearing them to the max on high training volumes. I have also found my periostitis shins like the full socks but didn't like the calf guards. As the physio says, "if it feels good, it's probably helping." Simple advice that makes sense :)

New yoga pose? The Resting Hedgehog?

(3) Needling - The first time I was ever needled was out of absolute desperation, one day before a race, when I was in utter agony over weeks of tight calves that got so I couldn't run 3k pain free. I really, really, didn't want to be needled, but I was that desperate. The day after that physio treatment, I ran 75k with no calf issues. Needling with the physio has continued to be useful, and just a few days ago I was made into a particularly cute hedgehog :) Or is it echidna now that I'm Aussie? I still prefer not to look when she puts the needles in!

Sports chiro - not just cracking backs

(4) Sports Chiro - So many people misunderstand what sports chiropractors do. I did, as well. I thought a chiro just "cracked backs," the sound of air popping between cartilage - not really doing anything clinically, but making a good noise. My first trip to a chiropractor when I was in my 20s in Canada did nothing to help get rid of the stereotype that it was quackery. He told me I had a leg length discrepancy (some people do, but I didn't - it turned out I had a tight hip rotating the leg up). He told me I should never carry heavy things, thought I might need a lift in one shoe, strapped me to some electric device and left the room for 20 minutes. None of it was workable solutions. I was a nanny - carrying small children was a day-to-day occurrence. I went to my GP who told me (in quite kind words) that I was getting overweight and out of shape and needed to go do some sit-ups. He was right. Years later, out of desperation again (another issue - I hadn't just given up on the core work!) I tried another chiropractor and she was awesome. It totally changed my view. Moving to WA, I was lucky to just "stumble" upon Jon Tan, who happened to be local in my area. He works with the state footy team and is a body builder type. When I see him, there's a lot he does that looks just like what my physio might do - checking hip movement and strength, the knees and popliteus, along with the back and neck. I run so much smoother at speed after his trigger point work. Thumbs of steel, just like my massage therapist!

Upper body needs strength for endurance running, too!

(5) Yoga - Here's another one I thought belonged in the "flaky" pile. Then about a year ago I was running with a mate - one who might even be said to be a "bloke's bloke.". No risk of low testosterone in him. And towards the end of the 30k hill run in 30 degree heat he says he's going to yoga that afternoon. Well, that floored me. So, I tagged along. And I met this German woman who uses all those crazy terms like "utacambasa position" and "vajra warrior number 3 position" (I still just look to see what others are doing), but she also uses words I DO know, like "hip flexors" and "rectus femoris" and "trapezius." We stretch and strengthen for 90 minute sessions. Awesome for my back, hips, and hammies, particularly.

Of course, there are more...like dark chocolate ;)