tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90850732876226606502024-03-12T23:09:06.788-07:00Running Down UnderA whole-food, plant-based CanAussie ultra runner living in Wandiligong, Australia.
"If it's not training, it must be recovery."Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.comBlogger268125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-27095957698568658212021-10-17T01:37:00.071-07:002021-10-23T17:36:33.624-07:00A Baker's Dozen: Things MUT Runners Should Know<p><span style="font-family: arial;">Things I've learned over more than a decade of Mountain-Ultra-Trail Running:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">1. There's value in <b>a rest season</b>. But if you've forgotten how to turn on or off your Garmin, you've had too much time off.</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXc1DETpr2zGrV0gU-yMTrhx88VKLwzff5AyDY9AvucV-vN6OVe_MP3NHmhNi3IWOwinVLPYR3lexWpLrNL3Ford1pkMBjirAKCuZmyleVA9ikNq5wJlb6HR51LReaNhP7ng1zrv97A3gU/s2046/P1080805-COLLAGE.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2046" data-original-width="2046" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXc1DETpr2zGrV0gU-yMTrhx88VKLwzff5AyDY9AvucV-vN6OVe_MP3NHmhNi3IWOwinVLPYR3lexWpLrNL3Ford1pkMBjirAKCuZmyleVA9ikNq5wJlb6HR51LReaNhP7ng1zrv97A3gU/w640-h640/P1080805-COLLAGE.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Rest doesn't mean you have to go at a snail's pace. Just give yourself a season to recover before you fall down that steep overtraining cliff of doom. Think about the big picture.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">2. Carry <b>a collapsible silicone cup</b>. In hot weather, if you have access to a tap, you'll rehydrate much better taking gulps from a proper cup compared to sucking through a bite valve. Plus there's nothing better than stopping halfway through a long run to grab an espresso!</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqFepjDF_e7w2Qj_drQS32x55dC5teK9-kUFj5Bywg8F_VX9MJgk9Bv04RD2x3C4RytWdAxqOy235xBQDl7-K6jQtymZgtqueeOkJHXFu24lIaVu7dX1PkkPt6E8x3Se3up5gv1Ooz300m/s2046/DSC_0145-COLLAGE.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2046" data-original-width="2046" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqFepjDF_e7w2Qj_drQS32x55dC5teK9-kUFj5Bywg8F_VX9MJgk9Bv04RD2x3C4RytWdAxqOy235xBQDl7-K6jQtymZgtqueeOkJHXFu24lIaVu7dX1PkkPt6E8x3Se3up5gv1Ooz300m/w640-h640/DSC_0145-COLLAGE.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Cheers to hydration!</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">3. You <b>can't outrun a bad diet</b>. You can't recover well on a bad diet, either.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglMQZmMu5ehXu-rguDN2HYtizcNdPPQdlu0u1hCE08P-USw_jRwHqcKDmrjYGQ9xXW48GgSfi-SY0ojSlCh3a1D2aM_ipCvMriJz1746MJ9qpkHMkfTp6305mlenkIOUy0S77nUcgS4G17/s2046/DSC_0867-COLLAGE.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2046" data-original-width="1535" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglMQZmMu5ehXu-rguDN2HYtizcNdPPQdlu0u1hCE08P-USw_jRwHqcKDmrjYGQ9xXW48GgSfi-SY0ojSlCh3a1D2aM_ipCvMriJz1746MJ9qpkHMkfTp6305mlenkIOUy0S77nUcgS4G17/w480-h640/DSC_0867-COLLAGE.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">A horrific breakfast at a private hut in Switzerland during a multi-day solo run<br />vs an easy travel-friendly yummy and nutritious lunch option</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;">4. "</span><b style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;">Tailgate</b><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;">" with your running mate(s) at the end of a run. Not only is it smart recovery to get your 15g of protein and 60g of carbs in straight away, communing over food is a way humans have bonded since we became a species.</span></div><p><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigdPUOU8TPBIJX_-r8rtTVLASkf1UUC2NlqX48QRPb9Z8c-92TjSlkuEV0mFJjsC0kx55arsTttrwSJZ_Lq-GI1rSYeFqLpkqdHrmHFlOTfz36xbMBgVNWZD4EBhyOzl7z8v1LikXHqNb7/s2048/DSC_0978.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigdPUOU8TPBIJX_-r8rtTVLASkf1UUC2NlqX48QRPb9Z8c-92TjSlkuEV0mFJjsC0kx55arsTttrwSJZ_Lq-GI1rSYeFqLpkqdHrmHFlOTfz36xbMBgVNWZD4EBhyOzl7z8v1LikXHqNb7/w640-h480/DSC_0978.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />Avocado cacao mousse has been a staple! <br />Easy to add Hammer (Vegan) Recoverite to, as well.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></p><span style="font-family: arial;">5. Running on an injury that hasn't healed is like picking a scab before it's ready. Or worse, because the setback will make your heart bleed, too. <b>Don't pick the scab</b>.</span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXfHL7a3GNKMtAoh-7paJI-QY2KBhyLVAxnBRsVWaOZncE12qh5TeXRa_AYbLfHFDdFKwaGmCSEC-RaxVoa_2EkMq6XW6c2GLJoI_vZ2OYvDkXMr1RLsyCJGllYtCgkFpf0MXq_paadBU-/s2048/DSC_0009+%25281%2529.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXfHL7a3GNKMtAoh-7paJI-QY2KBhyLVAxnBRsVWaOZncE12qh5TeXRa_AYbLfHFDdFKwaGmCSEC-RaxVoa_2EkMq6XW6c2GLJoI_vZ2OYvDkXMr1RLsyCJGllYtCgkFpf0MXq_paadBU-/w640-h360/DSC_0009+%25281%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />Feeling rather Johnny Cash with an injury I don't understand. I seem to "pick the scab"<br />without even knowing it. The setbacks are mentally exhausting.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">6. Run for <b>time over distance</b>. Monitor time on feet. Running 60 or 100km per week on hills could have you running 20% more time. That requires more maintenance and better (more) recovery.</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_76Wkvx60jis-l68yTYMBfj73KJDPLB0fZic2SbpwW9mlToiM_7J3twRLxuY2dCCvJ2gCj5bevTusBUKvKF_FjdvF6pFlxdFHOB3fzD8aNozYlG6qDONz-m853L9EZ7U1jLRdMr0gXqk/s2048/P1030695.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_76Wkvx60jis-l68yTYMBfj73KJDPLB0fZic2SbpwW9mlToiM_7J3twRLxuY2dCCvJ2gCj5bevTusBUKvKF_FjdvF6pFlxdFHOB3fzD8aNozYlG6qDONz-m853L9EZ7U1jLRdMr0gXqk/w640-h480/P1030695.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />Eight hours of activity is arguably more meaningful than simply saying 50km or 61km,<br /> which could be almost half that time on the road.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">7. On the trails, <b>carry emergency supplies</b> - a tiny torch (Petzl e+lyte, Maglite Solitaire), a long piece of flagging tape, a flint, and a decent first aid kit (absorbent non-stick pad and crepe bandage, strapping for snake bite or sprain). I also carry </span><span style="font-family: arial;">a short pencil and mini knife with serrated edge, which have proven their value many times.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">These combined items weigh less than 200g. If you can't handle carrying 200g, consider a strength training program. Surely you can work up to it ;-)</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj46xHSGRU21VLTW54TMcjYUzxQBEfh7l8QQpGgrOgKa1FE59jvdeg58rvLENK7ckP0vvZC3VbR9x2q1g-d2BSMKYtfYluBH2wrsoCDFQC2uaB6QrV85DLyAyACZJhvXA0sa3yv4fRQ-XV4/s2048/DSC_0005+%25281%2529.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1169" data-original-width="2048" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj46xHSGRU21VLTW54TMcjYUzxQBEfh7l8QQpGgrOgKa1FE59jvdeg58rvLENK7ckP0vvZC3VbR9x2q1g-d2BSMKYtfYluBH2wrsoCDFQC2uaB6QrV85DLyAyACZJhvXA0sa3yv4fRQ-XV4/w640-h366/DSC_0005+%25281%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />All this might make a night out in the bush more enjoyable,<br />but 200g of essentials could make it survivable.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">8. When you're hot, take any opportunity to <b>soak down</b>. Use your hat or tubie ("Buff") to pour creek or fountain tap water over your hammies, quads, and calves. The shock of cool will also allow blood that's been at the skin level (trying to cool you) to go deeper back into your core. That means more blood (oxygen) circulating for your muscles and for digestion again. Taking the extra few seconds during races to soak myself at creeks, hoses, sponges, and whatever else comes my way has paid off in my performance.</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfdPvXnQABKFiaq4rrgTvsFdR1hsPDhZf6FxYEeGUiJCAuef220oGTq79_c4OVriEfixDI1hRzFaGY5D-ND3L5_I9GDNRCBW1aCHQZ7QK5Z0msIVVEQQIgQvgRMCNCTATILezJ4S62Vsuy/s4608/finish.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfdPvXnQABKFiaq4rrgTvsFdR1hsPDhZf6FxYEeGUiJCAuef220oGTq79_c4OVriEfixDI1hRzFaGY5D-ND3L5_I9GDNRCBW1aCHQZ7QK5Z0msIVVEQQIgQvgRMCNCTATILezJ4S62Vsuy/w640-h480/finish.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />7th place finish at a hot year at UTMB in 2015. I took 'precious seconds' in the race to stop and take advantage of all the soak opportunities along the way</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">9. Run 85-90% of your time easy, 10-15% very hard. Unless you're still developing a base. Then just <b>run easy</b>. Run more days than you don't. Run easy and focus on consistency and giving yourself a big, fat base of musculoskeletal adaptation to build on.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcL7VIPZo2TkIEvgVpDof4Bmf1d3eJdZP-ezUid1gKn3KUDXqAAEdWH4ZD2d7qaMlFXf5LLhc1abrVeKxtNdXkrHUlDTR5nWx1JqxTxxrdsElTkDqjAqmS9dPn2lpPqFd4urKV7M0bAk7P/s2047/P1040096-COLLAGE.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2047" data-original-width="2047" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcL7VIPZo2TkIEvgVpDof4Bmf1d3eJdZP-ezUid1gKn3KUDXqAAEdWH4ZD2d7qaMlFXf5LLhc1abrVeKxtNdXkrHUlDTR5nWx1JqxTxxrdsElTkDqjAqmS9dPn2lpPqFd4urKV7M0bAk7P/w640-h640/P1040096-COLLAGE.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">A summit sandwich stop on a long run is part of the fun and helps keep easy runs easy.<br /> You can take liberties with "summit" if you live in a vertically challenged area :)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">10. If someone offers you "vitamin i" (ibuprofen such as Nurofen/Advil) or a patella-femoral strap for your niggle, <b>seek better advice</b>.</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-h7CR1VJplB2V8KQw9rOcRbcSNlKIgFl9CLM8GUVv90U8RnUo47CfL_d32S0w07BpZzcRu0pb4VdXTIayVxS6sSuxRlETmmRP5ZuQv54i2r3pJG7ucYKTMeWlPE8t9_CdcneEv0i-X8Nn/s2048/knee+%25286%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-h7CR1VJplB2V8KQw9rOcRbcSNlKIgFl9CLM8GUVv90U8RnUo47CfL_d32S0w07BpZzcRu0pb4VdXTIayVxS6sSuxRlETmmRP5ZuQv54i2r3pJG7ucYKTMeWlPE8t9_CdcneEv0i-X8Nn/w300-h400/knee+%25286%2529.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />2009 knee surgery after a solid year or so of patella-femoral<br />straps and other poor treatment of my "niggles."</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">11. <b>Fuel on carbs</b> or simply run easy on your fat stores. Fat and fibre are unhelpful when running. You already have fat on your body, which is harder to convert to energy. Things that don't work include almonds and dates. Been there. If you are opposed to maltodextrin fuel because you want "real" food, think white rice sushi, (sweet) potato without the skin, or white bread sandwiches with jam.</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGO_zBZs4ns5cRlG1TIHbjr5_H8MSu2rTQaGad57z05bFicgBAHfGBF9Azlahn0VEtMrMUPDTIlSqikzVBpnA4rOaj9vhSaDS7kg_FvPlzLfE_goTwfqOQBTiBbESoC0wTlGHzEo0M0NAU/s1434/me+and+ewan-COLLAGE.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1434" data-original-width="1434" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGO_zBZs4ns5cRlG1TIHbjr5_H8MSu2rTQaGad57z05bFicgBAHfGBF9Azlahn0VEtMrMUPDTIlSqikzVBpnA4rOaj9vhSaDS7kg_FvPlzLfE_goTwfqOQBTiBbESoC0wTlGHzEo0M0NAU/w640-h640/me+and+ewan-COLLAGE.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I've been running and racing puke-free and strong since 2010 on Hammer Nutrition's<br />range of (GF) carb fuels.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />12. Do <b>strength work</b>. Lift heavy things (under good supervision to start). I couldn't believe my first injury in 2007 when the physio told me I had no glutes. She was right. So I started some token exercises. I was afraid I would bulk up doing heavy weights and that weights weren't "running specific," because "runners should run," right? Runners <i>SHOULD</i> run. <i>AND</i> lift weights. And get massage. And sleep. A lot of sleep.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiVum6XOYeu2iMR7Kx3EisIdSi2A8YlIaFX0W5Tmy1fHP9PJbukgSOQWBWcGQY-oIhhQNwff7BqHGnjJvQzBsMYMyrqTHpOxrDizrLFzQOCAlviUoXM2GOENMsfOOCPOZrxhRnQBJYzapC/s1028/DSC_0111-COLLAGE.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1028" data-original-width="1028" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiVum6XOYeu2iMR7Kx3EisIdSi2A8YlIaFX0W5Tmy1fHP9PJbukgSOQWBWcGQY-oIhhQNwff7BqHGnjJvQzBsMYMyrqTHpOxrDizrLFzQOCAlviUoXM2GOENMsfOOCPOZrxhRnQBJYzapC/w640-h640/DSC_0111-COLLAGE.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The change to my running form around 2013 was remarkable after getting into proper strength work. No more hunched over "ultra shuffle." It contributed massively to my staying injury-free, too.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p><span style="font-family: arial;">13. </span><b style="font-family: arial;">Sheepdog</b><span style="font-family: arial;">. When you're running with others, but faster than some of the people in the group, turn around regularly and run back to the last person. It's better for your fitness than just waiting at the junction and it's better for the morale of the group. Don't just catch sight of the "caboose" runner and then start sprinting off again - what if they needed to tell you something? Like that they never want to run with you again cuz you're a self-centred jerk?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbNH4qBJIZWQ-ENNg7fPQSUokfGMtJGTFeSpUDJEsjl-jetSx7i2u4YvpMm_uOCnxvHXoSO3xkJrboQghyphenhyphenQvdo6bRWe1y5KI5Zv5SLJnSyg1pYjie8Ky6Kd5mWVjEvbULlVg30dT7zFjfB/s2048/DSC_0002_1.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbNH4qBJIZWQ-ENNg7fPQSUokfGMtJGTFeSpUDJEsjl-jetSx7i2u4YvpMm_uOCnxvHXoSO3xkJrboQghyphenhyphenQvdo6bRWe1y5KI5Zv5SLJnSyg1pYjie8Ky6Kd5mWVjEvbULlVg30dT7zFjfB/w640-h360/DSC_0002_1.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />Sheepdog is an honourable title worldwide :)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p></div>Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-81388585734784530162021-03-24T17:06:00.000-07:002021-03-24T17:06:33.238-07:00My Love Letter to Western Australia<p><span style="font-family: arial;">Dear WA,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">In the early 2000's in Calgary, I needed a change. I was working too much and life was too predictable. I needed to set out on an "Expotition" as <a href="https://youtu.be/hDReiBwIj6c" target="_blank">Winnie the Pooh would say</a>. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3GDdRWGhtIv2Cydqka2DFwcPFpXfyibKkkbeH9VsVpwtCbYUhaLHfe70VPp_XHT4JHjXLPHXK2rxYdAB1UJgfvoAOBzOjMXsD6h5KWcWbCb5zsBAVsaUL2cQ5eK6killw_5Ta47I7Qz_G/s687/Capture.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="164" data-original-width="687" height="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3GDdRWGhtIv2Cydqka2DFwcPFpXfyibKkkbeH9VsVpwtCbYUhaLHfe70VPp_XHT4JHjXLPHXK2rxYdAB1UJgfvoAOBzOjMXsD6h5KWcWbCb5zsBAVsaUL2cQ5eK6killw_5Ta47I7Qz_G/w640-h152/Capture.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chapter 8 excerpt from "Winnie the Pooh and The House at Pooh Corner" by A.A. Milne</td></tr></tbody></table></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">In May 2008 I landed in Perth with three suitcases and an old bicycle. I loved the beautiful green UWA campus and the fact that the staff and PhD students like me stopped for "morning tea" each day. My first piece of furniture was a 4WD camping mat and my second was an outdoor patio set (yes, it was almost winter in Perth, but that was nothing compared to Canada). </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I learned about snakes and pea gravel on your trails and that buying a canoe would be money poorly spent. Instead, I got a BMW650GS and learned that I didn't like riding in sand or pea gravel! I learned about Christmas on a beach in summer (still weird) and that there can be nothing more beautiful than a sunset over the Indian Ocean.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidcQM6h2ASpGXO9fVO78zVPXU-faFVJtZCS4COBOpYpbochtw0f9CH-2ejjluo7Dxn6T5-XPOksqzE9YBcGmaCxE_qSfN3XdKN1vK8hZWBumbxn95U0Pb3q47TxYYdovBEfKC2uhg3w4IO/s2048/DSC_0243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidcQM6h2ASpGXO9fVO78zVPXU-faFVJtZCS4COBOpYpbochtw0f9CH-2ejjluo7Dxn6T5-XPOksqzE9YBcGmaCxE_qSfN3XdKN1vK8hZWBumbxn95U0Pb3q47TxYYdovBEfKC2uhg3w4IO/w640-h480/DSC_0243.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I met my partner of now 11 years in WA. Perth's road running community taught me what "Comrades" was and I taught them what "trail running" was ("8.45 pace?!") I found myself as owner and race director of the Perth Trail Series and saw hundreds of people discover that Perth really does have hills :) I joined the amazing collaborative outdoor recreation sector in a volunteer capacity in order to help guide trails development and maintenance at a State level. I met people who became my trail running family. Some of us have travelled the world together.</span></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4H_vV05lPIwB3YHOBrrW2Usr8B16gw-hU8JwcbIUa-cs4nLVHEKpn4GFJ60Ep7iyWHYNOVTpkS5fpoH7JENA-whnN4Wd9o-aiU99Bp6xdtPDra3ko6piQpTfqLK6nXc2azHmAeDWJYYhB/s2048/pts+snakes+n+ladders+028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4H_vV05lPIwB3YHOBrrW2Usr8B16gw-hU8JwcbIUa-cs4nLVHEKpn4GFJ60Ep7iyWHYNOVTpkS5fpoH7JENA-whnN4Wd9o-aiU99Bp6xdtPDra3ko6piQpTfqLK6nXc2azHmAeDWJYYhB/w640-h480/pts+snakes+n+ladders+028.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wallygrunta race February 2012</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I learned not to "till" WA soil in a garden like we do in Canada and that cockroaches and huntsman spiders can be caught and released. I learned to run at 6am (or earlier) to beat the heat - and even to enjoy those early mornings (that took a decade!)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I camped with Noel Nannup and tried to learn from him and other First Nation elders about the Wadjuk Noongar Boodja upon which I was privileged to live. I developed my running skills and endurance and represented my new adoptive country on the world stage. I learned words like "doona" and "sanga" and phrases like "spit the dummy" and "she'll be right."</span></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRzZ-J0K0TQsivtjZ-opOCaQ2t8-iwidfoBtI5M6Fj10zjyZ02A4cq1w8832F2zGsnwxBxf6C___hV6DFbqy8hZtWLuPZWVrDAK82cKvOWtHuOZi1pE-mU8g6_f_oi4SEv4blXkENXPn_6/s2048/DSC_0064+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRzZ-J0K0TQsivtjZ-opOCaQ2t8-iwidfoBtI5M6Fj10zjyZ02A4cq1w8832F2zGsnwxBxf6C___hV6DFbqy8hZtWLuPZWVrDAK82cKvOWtHuOZi1pE-mU8g6_f_oi4SEv4blXkENXPn_6/w640-h360/DSC_0064+%25281%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Digging for native yams on an Aboriginal led "Journey on Country"</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Now, it's time for me to take my Canadian "roots" (which are really European) and my WA Sandgroper "tree trunk" and grow some new branches in the mountains of Victoria. It's time for another Expotition.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I am wary of complacency, mediocrity, and insularity. Wherever I am, may I be willing to learn. And to support a fair, just, and thriving world.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The point is not to move because I think the grass is greener. The point is to see whether there is even grass. Or something else I never knew existed. And whether any of that even matters.</span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpmRniBI90e1OxacxNJlacHD378WILDm1C5QEbrLlMBtJtcOE-qHcxxmfTBAqilNW-Rqc0Q5KSVvDKhHtgB_na3AAkp7C6i236T7z8hkWa82i5qJxccZDfk-byC4WK1WBoiVJP4Hi0yGwV/s1189/DSC_0020+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="848" data-original-width="1189" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpmRniBI90e1OxacxNJlacHD378WILDm1C5QEbrLlMBtJtcOE-qHcxxmfTBAqilNW-Rqc0Q5KSVvDKhHtgB_na3AAkp7C6i236T7z8hkWa82i5qJxccZDfk-byC4WK1WBoiVJP4Hi0yGwV/w640-h456/DSC_0020+%25281%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Expotition east.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p>Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-62563893542948284552020-07-19T07:09:00.000-07:002020-07-19T07:09:17.716-07:00The Forgotten Rest (Didn't See the Forest for the Trees)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm having my rest month. It was a bit late, though, so my body told me by way of my second toe.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglqkXVTjAurF96WVM7jyXBRYV4UCIgLHCx-z1mwxf_IA272q8bRAfmMWANxZPXBxZvXdbKP05-0hwVSOSi1yhQKXoJP4y12FRMVV4UIyzPnaRYL3XPsq-YEJWiPqoZNSibf_I-W-DunPdF/s1600/white.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="368" data-original-width="316" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglqkXVTjAurF96WVM7jyXBRYV4UCIgLHCx-z1mwxf_IA272q8bRAfmMWANxZPXBxZvXdbKP05-0hwVSOSi1yhQKXoJP4y12FRMVV4UIyzPnaRYL3XPsq-YEJWiPqoZNSibf_I-W-DunPdF/s320/white.JPG" width="274" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taken from the sole of foot, looking up. The bone should be black, not white, on the MRI</td></tr>
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Ironically, just two weeks before this image was taken, I had given a talk for the <a href="https://www.northstarfestival.ca/" target="_blank">North Star Trail Running Festival</a>, where I noted that I hadn't sustained an injury that sidelined me in over 8 years. I credited this in large part to the fact that I always schedule rests into my program. I know damage is being done all the time when running and we can't outrun our body's ability to heal. Scott Jurek, a phenomenal ultrarunner, was one athlete I looked to when I took this advice on board many years ago. He routinely scheduled <a href="https://www.podiumrunner.com/culture/the-long-run-dont-run-gain-weight-hang-out/" target="_blank">month-long rests</a>. This made sense to me. Rather than waiting for my body to break - and getting an unplanned rest - I would schedule them around my races, training, and personal life. Combined with a great plant-based diet, strength training, good sleep, and all those other helpful things, it worked great for 8 years.<br />
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Until I inadvertently erased my rest from my program.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnXMTBP9E8YbWXTgZQw9CDLrTuLUnYfqaAVUnVj8h_36q_JVWyP3Apwln8O6SqilE18SBYzl0nD1-C32HjyAc0By7LtFPwx28V85ZywUGsXSJ7p7Rg9T3DJRjUDwmQ4yPGHxwphsKXTET4/s1600/Capture.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="355" data-original-width="300" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnXMTBP9E8YbWXTgZQw9CDLrTuLUnYfqaAVUnVj8h_36q_JVWyP3Apwln8O6SqilE18SBYzl0nD1-C32HjyAc0By7LtFPwx28V85ZywUGsXSJ7p7Rg9T3DJRjUDwmQ4yPGHxwphsKXTET4/s320/Capture.JPG" width="270" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Covid "erased all" but I should have kept my plan!</td></tr>
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My program for March through June included the Sri Chinmoy 24hr race on 22 March, which was to be followed by a short rest and then building back to the Emu 6 day race in Hungary from 7-12 May. I had then programmed myself to have mid-May to mid-June off. It's my usual system of having periodic big rests after 6 or 8 months of training and racing. My next season race was to be the 100km World Championships in the Netherlands in late September. (Obviously cancelled.)<br />
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Covid hit Western Australia in mid-March and my March race was cancelled 3 days before the event. Instead of going to the race in Canberra, I drove a few hours south in WA and set a female <a href="http://bernadettedownunder.blogspot.com/2020/03/cape-to-cape-track-setting-fastest.html" target="_blank">FKT on the Cape to Cape Track</a> over 19.5 hours. I gave myself a good rest the following week and then started building my mileage again. When the Hungary race was cancelled, I erased my program. Let me make that clear. I erased my program.<br />
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I ran. I created my #<a href="https://runbernadette.com/res/" target="_blank">RunEveryStreet</a> project and ran. I ran road and trails. I had no program. I simply recorded mileage after I completed it. Between 100-150km/week. I went to the gym for strength training and recorded that, as well.<br />
<br />
In mid-June, I spontaneously decided to do a virtual vert race (<a href="https://www.northstarfestival.ca/index.php/races/all-about-vert" target="_blank">All About the Vert</a>) and tied it in with a <a href="https://everesting.cc/hall-of-fame/#/hill/3610734575" target="_blank">Half Everest ("Base Camp"</a>), becoming the first woman in Australia to do it. To get my 4424m of vert for the Half Everest, I had to do 72km (26 repeats) of a local hill! I approached it as a "Type 2 fun" adventure and kept myself at cruisy pace, so it took nearly 12 hours.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwQ4I-fRyivIi9Q0x5gwl_EKkOx1xNz1WNGi-srEHnmPHzl3xAQggkhB03Q2kJaW84qqiPmVJbkid9Ls76oPngU9y3yd4lN8yxvLxlKap29OaQiPhlyx00nGzh63wQkz3e_Af3TFKV0r6w/s1600/IMG_20200613_133341_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1158" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwQ4I-fRyivIi9Q0x5gwl_EKkOx1xNz1WNGi-srEHnmPHzl3xAQggkhB03Q2kJaW84qqiPmVJbkid9Ls76oPngU9y3yd4lN8yxvLxlKap29OaQiPhlyx00nGzh63wQkz3e_Af3TFKV0r6w/s640/IMG_20200613_133341_2.jpg" width="460" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coming into my 'aid station' about 8 hours into the Vert Race/Half Everest.</td></tr>
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The next week, I was back running. Normally, that's not a big deal for me, because it was just "cruisy pace." I had DOMS in my quads, but no niggles.<br />
<br />
But four days later, I thought I was getting arthritis in my second toe. The joint hurt, but warmed up after 10-20 minutes of running. Coincidentally, I had arthritis flaring up in the index finger in my right hand. A few years ago, I'd had a month or so of swollen thumbs, which I was told was arthritis.<br />
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I went scrambling the next weekend and had no toe pain at all.<br />
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The following week the toe was on and off with discomfort. I booked in with my podiatrist, in case my assessment was wrong. Tenosynovitis, perhaps? And then on Saturday - two weeks after the Half Everest - my toe symptoms changed. The toe was grumpy for nearly the full two hours of my run. It didn't "warm up" until the very end. The next day, when I changed to go to the gym, I noticed the top of my foot was a bit swollen. Oh dear! That stopped me in my tracks! I changed back out of my gym clothes and got a cancellation appointment with the podiatrist. I had an MRI within two days. Advanced stress reaction - the beginning of a stress fracture.<br />
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I racked my brain for the next few days as I sat with a carbon plate in my shoe. How? How did I miss it? Yes, it did seem that my symptoms were rather odd for a stressie ("warming up" rather than increasing pain during a run) and I was surely thrown off by having an arthritic flare up in my finger at the same time. But what else? I was definitely running a lot of road, but I had lots of new shoes (thanks to the 6 day race I didn't go to) and was varying them up. What else??<br />
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Then it struck me. I erased my program. I wiped out the month long rest I had scheduled.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi46XSvVxdOki1fFAz0wE4KLyOognuvbvw1FlXEtNYxHwqICcLI5FXPjMpHog00uIcpalAB2IvH0PZAmdWd0j9Y60SHcMj1lxXR1izl3RktP2OEAOzwK5CMSRNSdk1PxbE2pzRL4dWsRcs6/s1600/IMG_20200527_102123.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi46XSvVxdOki1fFAz0wE4KLyOognuvbvw1FlXEtNYxHwqICcLI5FXPjMpHog00uIcpalAB2IvH0PZAmdWd0j9Y60SHcMj1lxXR1izl3RktP2OEAOzwK5CMSRNSdk1PxbE2pzRL4dWsRcs6/s640/IMG_20200527_102123.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Resting during a 2.5 hour "RunEveryStreet" #res run. Not long enough ;)</td></tr>
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I had gotten so focused on running, day after day, I was just looking at each "tree," without stepping back to see that I was in a "forest" of trees. I lost sight of my big picture. I simply outran my body's ability to heal and I had dropped the system that had always protected me from doing that.<br />
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I admit, I shed a tear when I got the news, expecting it to be a terrible loss. But within two days, I was settled. Work and my volunteerism in Western Australian trails (boots-on-the-ground as well as advocacy) has been intense since Covid hit. I thought running was giving me my mental health time, but in reality, I was pretty exhausted trying to do it all.<br />
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It turns out, I've been having a fantastic month. I am getting into wilderness for many hours several times each week, pounding metal posts in on a <a href="http://www.kattamorda.org/" target="_blank">30km trail I'm reviving</a>.<br />
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I can see the forest <i>AND</i> the trees now.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM1FwXqs-X40CVD3TQdC8EbUaHlfkWdcnoP8IR3-K8eW-kU1dqkMCLts-jghGOINR1fNAU3lSfxjDbgwH6bvU0hsFkIcYVhkEjlWq50yEcJeGZdbL0ptM-3Tm-oXrdL3Sk_Cv4dMBneCd-/s1600/DSC_0008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1383" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM1FwXqs-X40CVD3TQdC8EbUaHlfkWdcnoP8IR3-K8eW-kU1dqkMCLts-jghGOINR1fNAU3lSfxjDbgwH6bvU0hsFkIcYVhkEjlWq50yEcJeGZdbL0ptM-3Tm-oXrdL3Sk_Cv4dMBneCd-/s640/DSC_0008.JPG" width="552" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The 30 year old marker in a tree (trees grow!) and a new post just put in.</td></tr>
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Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-77242250361905032242020-04-18T03:20:00.005-07:002020-04-18T07:02:27.839-07:00Run Every Street (RES) Project<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I live in Kelmscott. It's a suburb of the City of Armadale. If I go abroad, I just say, "I'm from Perth."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4b_0s-PelSpSFb251lrRQ0BfROUVOV_TCFZ2cATFD8h7cXEmoygp-75-BBuKX3qKrT4EJesyE_tVo5rBNW9Oq_p0CuafNEakkbTgpCfUmSgpL2pjSnF3A_ShHqKhugLLoMM9OcdQOSO_5/s1600/DSC_0114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4b_0s-PelSpSFb251lrRQ0BfROUVOV_TCFZ2cATFD8h7cXEmoygp-75-BBuKX3qKrT4EJesyE_tVo5rBNW9Oq_p0CuafNEakkbTgpCfUmSgpL2pjSnF3A_ShHqKhugLLoMM9OcdQOSO_5/s640/DSC_0114.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset over the Indian Ocean from my local Kelmscott trails - the long, narrow Champion (Wright) Lake reflecting</td></tr>
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The reality is that Perth is actually only 20 square kilometres. It's basically the central business district - or the "downtown area" as a Canadian would call it. There's a population of about 22,000 there. Abutting Perth are several cities and towns. To get from 'downtown' to my home, I drive through at least two other "cities" before I reach mine. It's just one suburb after another, so you can't even tell.<br />
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My city covers 560 square kilometres. It's more than half forest, which makes me even more appreciative of it. There are about 91,000 people.<br />
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Australia is heading into autumn and winter. Ten days from now, before the end of April, I was to be flying to Europe for my annual migration. I was to do a 6 day race in Hungary in May, a mountain race in Switzerland in August, and the 100km World Championships in The Netherlands in September. I was to travel to Canada to see family and friends.<br />
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Most of us have a long list of what we "were" to do.<br />
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Now, it's time to make some other choices. It's time to get creative.<br />
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I have not spent a winter in Perth since 2009. If I'm going to be here - and encouraged (if not downright mandated) to stay local - well, I need an adventure.<br />
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My goal is to run every bituminised street in my city. I will still break it up with hilly trail runs. I haven't decided if I'll add the trail runs to my map or not. If I do, I will categorise them separately.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking NW from Armadale Settlers Common trails towards Perth, with most of Armadale streets in front</td></tr>
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I have no idea how long this will take. Several months, I expect. That's fine. I've got a few seasons ahead to get to know my city!<br />
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I call it my "Run Every Street (RES) Project." It's also about RESiliency, being RESourceful, RESponsive, and making RESolutions!<br />
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You can <a href="https://runbernadette.com/res/" target="_blank">follow my progress here</a>.<br />
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Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-61150759423404211972020-03-23T06:57:00.001-07:002020-03-23T06:57:35.931-07:00Cape to Cape Track - Setting the Fastest Known Time (FKT)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It took a pandemic to get me to do the Cape to Cape Track FKT.<br />
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I guess that says just how daunting I expected this would be! Primarily, I'm rubbish at running on sand. It's not that I dislike it, I'm just very inefficient.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA8x6zbVX48eBtEat3VntNujcKxtLF9D9YagfaVeEN9uTMbyDK3RxCXG8ZLoAXPTCO1KdYEU_G-QK5haKXe_Xf6DgNXJ-M-VQuZ2ZYbMAPQK7JhY7JBhypsnXlaEpuJXC22O8U6vx2mr7j/s1600/DSC_0014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA8x6zbVX48eBtEat3VntNujcKxtLF9D9YagfaVeEN9uTMbyDK3RxCXG8ZLoAXPTCO1KdYEU_G-QK5haKXe_Xf6DgNXJ-M-VQuZ2ZYbMAPQK7JhY7JBhypsnXlaEpuJXC22O8U6vx2mr7j/s640/DSC_0014.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So gorgeous. What's to be afraid of?</td></tr>
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Having spent most of four extremely hot and often humid months in Western Australia over summer, training for the Sri Chinmoy 24 Hour race to be held on 20 March, with Covid spreading throughout the country, I suddenly found myself with no endurance event.<br />
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On Tuesday afternoon my race was cancelled. Tuesday night I messaged a running mate to see if he still had a few days off work and could crew me. Wednesday was a flurry of preparation. Thursday at 1pm we were in a car headed south. Friday at 4.30am I was running. That escalated quickly.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsqs94-_AkzJuc8P4Q5A6jDT_nW2VhVx2Ln62zPhR_oDdcQRUbeNEqZ2o8Md680457c09kHAC0CYUx2Ch7LBdhXjwUX9IBOFjXG_9APBDlRJS0UBTIWzX1j7dnh54qpQ5soYtlaqOzdqYN/s1600/map.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="850" data-original-width="1097" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsqs94-_AkzJuc8P4Q5A6jDT_nW2VhVx2Ln62zPhR_oDdcQRUbeNEqZ2o8Md680457c09kHAC0CYUx2Ch7LBdhXjwUX9IBOFjXG_9APBDlRJS0UBTIWzX1j7dnh54qpQ5soYtlaqOzdqYN/s400/map.JPG" width="400" /></a>The <a href="http://www.capetocapetrack.com.au/" target="_blank">Cape to Cape Track</a> is a 130km + ~2500m point-to-point track in WA's southwest, running between Cape Leeuwin lighthouse in the south and Cape Naturaliste lighthouse in the north. The spectacular Indian Ocean is visible off your left or right shoulder much of the time (depending on your direction of travel, of course). It takes an average of 6 days to hike it with a backpack.<br />
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When I moved to Perth in 2008, I eagerly bought several trail maps. The Cape to Cape maps were amongst them. As I settled in, I started to gather local "intel." In 2010, one of my running mates at the time (<i>Mr Minnesota, I hope you're well and happy</i>) posed the idea of an ultra running event on the track. A few locals to the Southwest region expressed that they thought it impossible to do it in under 24 hours. And that an event in an area so rugged and remote, and on a poorly signed track, would be a race director's nightmare. The "race" idea was squashed.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">-Andrew Cohen, 2010, excerpt from CoolRunning Forum</td></tr>
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In November 2011, I ran the 1000km Bibbulmun Track supported to set the female (and overall at that time) FKT. In 2012, I started musing about the Cape to Cape idea again and that's gone on for 8 long years. Much as I wanted to see the track in all its unique and intense beauty, every single time I thought about it, I recalled how slow I am on sand. How the white coral-like rock makes a normal stride impossible. And how hot the sun feels reflecting off white sand.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA8gPe3xAt-xAkws5F8P7hK3yj-3ilUSHfSXVXNdG0HInzSxhEpDbxdJXonaVk4roGhQTgB0UwjfTMlbvLUWmOzpVDqP2uADl6O3QSUFCbzU-4GLxPRIvr0nkW-JSIhGpFtYP6CwKlA0-e/s1600/P1030742.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1105" data-original-width="1514" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA8gPe3xAt-xAkws5F8P7hK3yj-3ilUSHfSXVXNdG0HInzSxhEpDbxdJXonaVk4roGhQTgB0UwjfTMlbvLUWmOzpVDqP2uADl6O3QSUFCbzU-4GLxPRIvr0nkW-JSIhGpFtYP6CwKlA0-e/s400/P1030742.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">November 2012 I ran the 14km northern-most section, which was "easy"</td></tr>
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But suddenly, the pause button was hit on "The World As We Know It." Most paths in my future were suddenly road blocked. No 24 hr race. No trip "home" to Switzerland. No trip "home" to family in Canada. No 6 day race in May. No ability to work doing face-to-face assessments of children. No face-to-face German classes. Yet there was one path, a 130km one, I could take, if I was willing!<div>
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All day Wednesday I studied the paper maps, combined with the recorded men's <a href="https://fastestknowntime.com/route/cape-cape-track-wa-australia" target="_blank">FKT posts</a> and their Strava and Garmin files. I figured out where a car could meet me and jotted down some very rough estimated times. </div>
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"Woohoo," I thought! I have Raidlight sand gaiters. I pulled them out and looked at my stock of shoes. I would need to glue velcro to the shoe to form a seal all around it. I had absolutely nothing appropriate for sand. Vehicles lower their tyre pressure on sand to lengthen their tread. They avoid knobbly tyres so they can have more surface contact. Runners should have similar on their feet. I had road shoes with mesh tops (i.e., sand-insertion holes) or my super-knobbly Inov-8 x-talon 212 trail shoes. They come free from sand-insertion holes, but are also free from plush cushioning. Running on rocks in those shoes = spikey-ball foot massage. I don't mind normally, but over 130km, it's a bit too much, to say the least! The shoes are like ballet slippers and bend in all directions. There was no way to afix the sand gaiters, as the tension pulled the shoe into a U shape, pulling my toes upward. Oh, well, when you've got one path forward, you wear whatever shoes you have, right?</div>
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Thursday morning I charged the Delorme inReach and my Led Lenser headlamp, put the course on two Garmin Forerunners, threw everything in some bags, and jumped in the car with an instant coffee. I wrote the basic crew plan out as Stephen drove.<br /><br />Given Covid, we both kept up our hand sanitiser habits, despite knowing our proximity in the car over hours meant we could only hope neither of us had it and just try to avoid contamination with others.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Practicing "physical distancing" (I'm still a social/societal being, after all)</td></tr>
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Stephen is no novice to adventure, being from rural Queensland, having lived all over the country, and being ex-military, but he was a crew novice. I was already asking him to take a few days out for this, do all the driving, get up before 4am and chase a stinky runner all day until midnight, then drive home the next morning. In the midst of it, try to avoid catching/spreading Covid at any petrol station or cafe. So I tried to minimise "demands" on the day. It cost time, but I am sure it kept the stress down for both of us. And with the high cognitive demand that Covid has placed on all our brains, that was the sensible way to have this adventure.</div>
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So at 4.30am, in a howling wind, I set off in the dark, with the eerie flashing of the Cape Leeuwin lighthouse behind me. I've had a lot of adventures over the years, but that first hour in the dark, with the lighthouse, the sound of a strong wind and crashing waves I couldn't see... it was oddly quite unnerving.</div>
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The wind was gone the moment I had bushes around me and that was the case for the rest of the day. Whilst at most crew points Stephen battled to try to light his stove or keep his crew sheet from blowing away, and he found himself rugged up in a jumper all evening, I was sweltering from early afternoon on. Even on the exposed beach sections, the wind was behind my back, so gave no relief. I doused my hat in the two creeks and at the one water tank I found and used it to soak my CEP shorts and calf guards down. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipc-vrIvq7gyBT5BHCxSF6iFZ8QqmxcLLQaAzPtbelFK1Eaa0odTXE7HZiRlI0oVAx41QKmtOG-ZSDCcaFtT535sjbjFKmcPv7uoxB7F-s6eYBpiJ7FR2KjRM9si1O0K8oXEdpouZ1PCPh/s1600/DSC_0032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipc-vrIvq7gyBT5BHCxSF6iFZ8QqmxcLLQaAzPtbelFK1Eaa0odTXE7HZiRlI0oVAx41QKmtOG-ZSDCcaFtT535sjbjFKmcPv7uoxB7F-s6eYBpiJ7FR2KjRM9si1O0K8oXEdpouZ1PCPh/s640/DSC_0032.JPG" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trail? Straight on. Go on, run!</td></tr>
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I had done my maths in two ways to come up with a projected time. The best case scenario was 18 hours. So I threw 30 minutes in to the plan for my less-than-perfect arrangement and warm forecast. The A goal was 18.5 hours. B goal was sub 20 hours. C goal was to finish, uninjured, of course. </div>
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After halfway (by distance), at Prevelly's Margaret River mouth crossing, it was 1.30pm and I was on track for 18.5 hours. But as soon as I left the protection of the gazebo and the sun hit me again on that sandbar, I knew I had to slow down. For the next several hours, I played head games with myself. Just do a sectional end-to-end. No need to do it all in a day. Just let it go. It's my adventure, after all. Look at that couple sitting in their camp chairs with their beers and their 4WD setup on the beach, wouldn't that be nicer? I'm doing this all wrong!</div>
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But on I went, eyes to the ground, looking for the easiest place to put my next footfall. One footfall after another. Every step was one step forward. </div>
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A southern heath monitor lizard (small dinosaur) and I came face to face around a bend in the trail. Fortunately, we agreed he wouldn't run up my leg. Good on 'im. I saw many bright green rock parrots. And two baby dugites - one at dusk I got to move by thumping the ground with my foot a few times and one I noticed as I jumped over him in the dark. A rabbit, three golden orb-weaving spiders (spread over the trail as they do), and one tiny neon green one. During the day I passed amazing limestone cliffs, one of which bore a metal gate covering a cave entrance (entry by permit). </div>
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This track answered every one of my prayers for change. That adage "Be careful what you wish for" was proven true again and again for me as the evening wore on. Sick of gnarly boulders? The track dropped me onto a soft sand beach. Sick of soft sand? Great, here's a boulder scramble uphill in the dark with no markers. Yup. Sick of that? Wishing for a change? Awesome, time for that white pokey coral rock. Oh, wait, is that the last three kilometres and it's bitumenised?! I'll take it! Yee-yaw! Wait... it's <i>ALL</i> uphill?! </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPOoDbvpwI-WhQzTWgXlbTL6H3mpEZPxWk2z9tQIeHsqhnMT0T4gd49aERHTIhN5tAISCqc83DCE2fO7mNxf4uKQtZBqCa2KNfXcxzvgk6br_qxOHMNlPzQTbu7RoQ_BTSBsm90_ItpXRS/s1600/DSC_0010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPOoDbvpwI-WhQzTWgXlbTL6H3mpEZPxWk2z9tQIeHsqhnMT0T4gd49aERHTIhN5tAISCqc83DCE2fO7mNxf4uKQtZBqCa2KNfXcxzvgk6br_qxOHMNlPzQTbu7RoQ_BTSBsm90_ItpXRS/s640/DSC_0010.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the steeplechase sections with gorgeous little hoodoo-like formations to leap, climb, and stumble over</td></tr>
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And then 200m from the finish, a trail sign "The Cape to Cape Track." A boot marker on it pointed left. My gpx file told me to go straight on. It was 11.57pm. My time had blown out to nearly 19.5 hours and I was determined to finish before midnight. I cried out, "I don't know where to go!" I took a left. As I ran, I thought, "No, it was a boot marker, not a Cape marker. It must be for another trail. They put the marker on the sign simply because the sign was there." I ran back, rounded the bend, saw Stephen's headlights and heard his laconic voice, "This is it, b." And then I ran through his toilet paper finish line. How perfect. <a href="https://fastestknowntime.com/route/cape-cape-track-wa-australia" target="_blank">19hr 27min 22sec</a>.</div>
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So, ladies, how could you make it faster? Choose a cool day. Alternate running packs, having a "full" one ready to pick up at crew points. Wear the right shoes for the job. Know the route or have pacers who do and can direct you.</div>
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<b>Fuel: </b>About 26 scoops of Perpetuem (~3100 cal), 2 Hammer chocolate gels (180 cal), 2 Nudies (180 cal), 1 apple (90 cal), 1 gluten-free jam sandwich (~220 cal). Roughly 200 cal/hr.</div>
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<b>Supplements: </b>Fully Charged every 4 hours or so, Anti-Fatigue Caps, No Doz caffeine pills</div>
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<b>Water:</b> ~14 litres (~700ml/hr on average, though it was more like 500ml/hr in the morning and got to a high near 900ml/hr in the heat). Plus 1 small kombucha and 1 instant short black coffee.</div>
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<b>Recovery: </b>Lots of whole foods with colour, including some berries. Water. Loads of sleep. <a href="http://udoshealthproducts.com.au/udos-products/udos-dha-oil-blend/" target="_blank">Omega 3-6-9</a>. CEP Full Tights (so far, for 3 nights straight, as they reduce the ache in my legs so I can sleep.)</div>
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<b>Logistical challenges on the track as of March 2020: </b>Massive volunteer effort was put into re-signing the track over the past year and more markers were put in place. However, the glue has failed and perhaps as many as 1/10th of the reflective markers have fallen off. That's definitely no good in the dark. Even by day the short pale wooden posts blend in and are hard to see at times. Many junctions remain unmarked. There are often no markers within the villages (Prevelly, Gracetown, Yallingup). Scramble sections were often not marked, nor were beach exits. Without a gpx course to follow, one simply could not know where to go at times. I spent 10 minutes "lost" in a few places - one of which was simply when a truck at Gracetown parked right in front of the trail marker and trail, but left a very visible alternate track (which was simply the surfers' route to the beach). It would be totally unnerving without a gpx file to hike or run a beach that could be kilometres long, not knowing which track up was the right one.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Southern terminus, the evening before</td></tr>
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Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-89675725993509224472019-09-28T20:36:00.000-07:002019-09-28T20:36:28.900-07:00Running From America: The Chilkoot Trail<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I fell in love with the Yukon Territory's winter beauty in February 2017, racing the <a href="https://arcticultra.de/" target="_blank">Montane Yukon Arctic Ultra</a> 300 mile event, where I pulled a pulk for 5 straight days (with less than 8 hours' sleep). In February 2018, I went back to thru-hike that same <a href="https://www.yukonquest.com/" target="_blank">Yukon Quest</a> route from Whitehorse, Canada to the Alaskan border solo and in my own time.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib_cDqcojt-QX2DajveGZj8GRxGi0vMkmpBEVxu34nzT8aQiLK8rkIInG9nYKoaDU7QFI_wxP7qkKSiLFiCgSAYgEzjAxTt_LgN7fFdINOsC_-fTyAjCBfMEErWKCUvaMfmKSyZaXLzkI_/s1600/Miners_climb_Chilkoot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1258" data-original-width="1600" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib_cDqcojt-QX2DajveGZj8GRxGi0vMkmpBEVxu34nzT8aQiLK8rkIInG9nYKoaDU7QFI_wxP7qkKSiLFiCgSAYgEzjAxTt_LgN7fFdINOsC_-fTyAjCBfMEErWKCUvaMfmKSyZaXLzkI_/s200/Miners_climb_Chilkoot.jpg" width="200" /></a>Enroute to Alaska, one follows the route of those who came during the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Klondike_Gold_Rush" target="_blank">Klondike gold rush</a> of 1896-1899. Those seeking adventure and fortune came north a few ways, but by far the most popular was by ship to Skagway, Alaska. Just a few miles out of Skagway, they set up camp at Dyea (pronounced Dy-ee), at the foot of the Chilkoot Pass. After negotiating this pass, 53km later, they arrived at Bennett Lake, British Columbia. There, they cut down every tree to build boats and headed downstream, joining the Yukon River, headed for the Bonanza and Dawson City area. It was very tough going. The Canadian mounties saw starvation looming, with tens of thousands of ill-prepared people arriving, so instituted a "one ton of food" requirement. This had gold rushers going up and down the pass numerous times to haul 900kg of food - I can't imagine this!<br />
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The Chilkoot Trail is a well-maintained and well-used multi-day point-to-point trail, jointly managed by the <a href="https://www.nps.gov/klgo/planyourvisit/trailconditions.htm" target="_blank">US National Park Service</a> and <a href="https://www.pc.gc.ca/en/lhn-nhs/yt/chilkoot/activ/cour-run" target="_blank">Parks Canada</a>. Most people take 3 to 5 days to hike the trail. A few ultrarunners do it in a day. After my "run", I met a woman who had hiked it in a day - 12 hours was her time. Considering 10 to 12 hours seems to be the norm for "runners," it highlights the technical nature of the trail - fast hiking and slow running merge!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Although it looks like it should be much faster the other way, I doubt it is, given the terrain between Sheep Camp and Stone Crib.</td></tr>
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For me, running the Chilkoot would be like putting the "Preface" on my Yukon winter book of experiences. Of course, I worked out-of-sync to most prospectors! I ran in the autumn (September 8, 2019) and pulled a pulk over frozen rivers and lakes to Dawson City in the winter. Most prospectors aimed to come over the pass in the winter and have their boat built for spring breakup on the river, so they could paddle downstream, arriving in time to prospect before the ground was frozen by winter conditions again.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That 6km to the summit packs a punch.</td></tr>
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Preparing to do the trail is an endurance event in itself. The Chilkoot is a long point-to-point run, coordinated between two countries, in areas where the "bush telegraph" is almost your only means of communication.<br />
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Runners and hikers most often go west to east, the same direction as prospectors. This means a net uphill. I got ~2010m up and ~1350m down by going west to east. There's little to be gained in speed going the other way, I expect, as the boulder section around "The Scales" and the international border take a significant amount of time and wouldn't be any faster down climbing than scrambling up (unless you were racing, perhaps). And by "border," I don't mean there is anyone there checking passports. You have to call in to Canada Border Services Agency when you get to civilisation after your adventure.<br />
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Everyone needs a permit to day run on the Canadian side. At the time I did it, permits were only required in summer and early autumn. Check with Parks Canada, as you need to have the permit attached to your pack. It was less than $10 CAD. If you run only on the US side for the day (e.g., out and back from Dyea), you don't need a permit from the Americans. We arrived in Whitehorse on the weekend (Whitehorse Parks Canada office closed), so were able to get our permit from the US Parks Service Chilkoot Trail Center in Skagway on Saturday - they even charged in Canadian dollars, as it's a service for the Canadian side of the trail. Nice teamwork!<br />
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Going point-to-point requires getting to the start and getting out at the finish. The start - Dyea - is really a ghost town. There's a <a href="https://www.nps.gov/klgo/planyourvisit/campgrounds.htm" target="_blank">basic US Parks campground</a> nearby. The only other accommodation nearby is a private operator with some cabins for rent. Dyea is about a 20 minute drive out of Skagway.<br />
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I didn't know a local available to get us from Whitehorse to Dyea, so we took the one-and-only bus (which I think only runs in summer, linked to the White Pass tourist train) at 8am Saturday morning from Whitehorse to Skagway. Crossing borders on the bus means a stop with passports handy.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Skagway - a touristy place, given cruise ships can dock. Here we have a backpacker and a fastpacker, obviously :)</td></tr>
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We spent a few hours wandering Skagway, purchasing our permits at the Trail Center and getting food for the evening ahead. Given that everything we took with us on the bus had to be carried back whilst running, I chose to get a $7 outfit at an "op shop" (second hand/charity store) in the days prior, which I left at the rental cabin on the morning of the run. Our full luggage was left with a hotel in Whitehorse.<br />
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A private shuttle driver took us from Skagway to the cabins at Dyea. We were fortunate that the owners agreed to have us for one night, as their policy is a two-night stay. It was autumn, so they were less choosy. We found out by fluke conversation with a hiker who'd just finished her multi-day, that the shuttle driver might have extra spare bear spray she would lend us for free. That saved us a ton of money! We couldn't fly with our bear spray from Calgary to Whitehorse and we couldn't legally carry bear spray cross-border on the international bus to Skagway. We were able to use the "friend of a friend" type thing to get the shuttle driver's two cans of bear spray back to her after we finished.<br />
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Getting "out" at the end of the trail at Bennett Lake, BC, also posed a logistical challenge. Bennett Lake has a nice little town called Carcross on its shores. The problem is that Bennett Lake is huge and Carcross is at the other end of that lake. When you come off the trail, you are probably at least 40km from Carcross. Your options are (1) hire a float plane with a pre-arranged pick up time, (2) hire a boat (same thing) or (3) arrive in time to get the White Pass tourist train back to Carcross. There is no village in Bennett Lake - just the tourist train station, a backcountry campground, and one private home.<br />
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The train only runs in summer and I believe at time of writing, the train leaves Bennett Lake for Carcross at 3pm. Thus, runners aiming for this train tend to start from Dyea at 4am! When we left Dyea at 7am, the owner said we were the latest leaving runners she'd ever seen. But we'd hired the float plane for a 6pm pickup (the latest time they would agree to).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Very happy to see our float plane arrive - 1.5 hours late, but it arrived!</td></tr>
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In my online searches, I came across mention of runners or hikers going out via "Log Cabin." This option misses the end of the trail. At the last campsite, Bare Loon Lake near Lindeman Lake, there is a right fork that takes you to the railway line. From there, people follow the railway track out to the Log Cabin, a day use area along the highway. A pre-arranged vehicle can pick you up there. Don't count on having any cellular signal. A satellite phone/Delorme inReach is awesome in these remote places.<br />
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If you take the Log Cabin exit, not only do you miss the purity of going all the way to the end of the trail, you trespass illegally on railway right-of-way. The signs are clear that they don't want pedestrians on the railway and they have the right to charge you with an offence. Just saying.<br />
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Going east from Alaska, there's a time change, so our 7am start was really 8am. We had 10 hours for a day that takes most runners 10-12 hours. And we got held up at check-out, so our start was closer to 7.10am (8.10). Tick tick tick.<br />
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The campgrounds come regularly and provide neat little ways to "compartmentalise" the journey. There are great setups at most camps - basic sites, firewood, maybe a shared-use walled tent or log cabin with pot belly stove (I didn't note if there was a cabin at every site). We were at Canyon City (second campsite, 12k) in 2hr08.<br />
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The terrain from the start to Sheep Camp (fourth campsite) had little variation on the theme of rainforest running in autumn - gorgeous colours, and technical terrain with slippery tree roots and rocks. Water was plentiful. So was bear scat. At our briefing with the ranger the day before, we were basically told about a bear hanging around every campsite. One camp had a "habituated bear." Not a good thing. But the scat on the trail every few kilometres told us that the bears were not just at the camps!<br />
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We caught up with three multi-day hikers having a break. The fellow enthusiastically offered me some beef jerky. I politely declined. When Rolf arrived just behind me, he was offered the same. Very kind to share one's trail food, but besides the vegan thing, I really wasn't keen on the idea of smelling that good to a bear for the next 7 hours!<br />
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I had some rough splits to work off of, but didn't know how "bad" (slow) the Golden Staircase/Scales area would be. It took ages. And the boulders were solid, not those loose things that move underfoot. But it was just slow terrain. I had drawn up a 9hr15min plan, although I expected we'd need the full 10 hours.<br />
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We were at Sheep Camp, the fourth one (20km), in 3.5 hours. Just where I hoped for time. But we took about 20 minutes there, changing out layers of clothes and repacking everything.<br />
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At the summit (~26km) with 5hr47min on the clock, we were 45 minutes behind my hopeful estimate. That meant we had no more cushion left. It had taken 2 hours to travel 6km. Granted, Rolf had been having shoe and foot issues - he had expected cold, wet terrain, so wore his European mountain-glacier shoes. They were a half size big to accommodate big socks. The shoes were sloppy and awkward in the technical terrain and his feet were moving inside, making him prone to blistering. Plus, his feet were sweltering hot and soaked in the big socks. We had a wonderful 18C calm autumn day! Wonderful, except when you wear black Goretex light mountaineering shoe-boots.<br />
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With no time to sit and enjoy a "summit sandwich" at the high point, we cheered our arrival into Canada and carried on, eating on the go. I had expected the Canadian side to become more runnable. I had read much about the American side being a wet rainforest and the Canadian side being a "lunar landscape." Certainly, the landscape changed, the valley was more open and vast, but the terrain was still markedly undulating, with many tree roots, rocks, and wet areas. Tired legs make for less agile movements in such terrain.<br />
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I had the only water filter between us, so stopping for water took twice as long. A mini-Sawyer weighs less than 150 grams. I have to admit, I'm over carrying the one-and-only filter for everyone in my group and spending all my "break" time filtering water for people. The mini-Sawyer is so small, light, and inexpensive that there's really no good reason for everyone not to carry their own now. Heck, I'd even carry the filter for others if they would only just gather their own water. This trip sealed it. Rant over.<br />
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The terrain on the Canadian side really was gorgeous in a different way to the forested US side and despite the pressures of time, we made sure to enjoy it. I broached the subject of our average pace and the looming deadline for the float plane. I suggested that we might have to consider the difficult decision of taking the fork out to the railway line and the highway, in order to hitchhike back to Whitehorse. We had continued to travel slower than projected for the Canadian side. We needed to start running an 8min/k average and we were lucky to do anything sub 11min/k.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinoAMIdayh1KcDa1LIIIhJrWtJCtPkbLt3dCAr-O1q-jZG30kB0pn_qegvTbxm_GyYTEYysZzGR9fsXU1T4h2kU6wAFfE97ohh_Tp5wtsMrHEjccZ-2CxvuNHFRWLVYAt3JINjtuP1lW_g/s1600/IMG_20190908_122127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinoAMIdayh1KcDa1LIIIhJrWtJCtPkbLt3dCAr-O1q-jZG30kB0pn_qegvTbxm_GyYTEYysZzGR9fsXU1T4h2kU6wAFfE97ohh_Tp5wtsMrHEjccZ-2CxvuNHFRWLVYAt3JINjtuP1lW_g/s640/IMG_20190908_122127.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "Golden Staircase" - part of "The Scales" section near the summit. Goes on forever. That is a false summit. Very fun in the dry.</td></tr>
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We knew there was plenty of daylight for a plane to fly well after 6pm, but we did not know whether they would wait at all. Rolf was very keen to take a chance on it. I silently contemplated the implications as we ran on. Likely at Bennett Lake, as there had been at other campsites, there would be a walled structure of some sort with a pot belly stove. (Though not guaranteed!) If necessary, we could keep a fire going and stay warm, if not fed, for the night, and see if a float plane would show up in the morning. Doubtful they would just take a chance to show up in the morning, doubling their costs. But there was the tourist train at some point the following day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdEIsP_YRP-G6ah9sDiva9qd8N6kQA0A_K82ynheerDfzB8juacV1wFv1zWEnz8SOCfUlc0gDlQ8AlZE6IpkB7RWqhAQeuaHVYk9QS7xWfWkwHIJBi8IFIBnGp09lEzfFE0AeTBCGeU2Eo/s1600/DSC_0088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdEIsP_YRP-G6ah9sDiva9qd8N6kQA0A_K82ynheerDfzB8juacV1wFv1zWEnz8SOCfUlc0gDlQ8AlZE6IpkB7RWqhAQeuaHVYk9QS7xWfWkwHIJBi8IFIBnGp09lEzfFE0AeTBCGeU2Eo/s640/DSC_0088.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A major change in landscape on the Canadian side.</td></tr>
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Then I remembered my Delorme inReach - my way to contact the outside world! I fired it up and pulled their email address from my phone. I sent a message indicating we would be late, but hoped for a 6.20pm arrival. We were hoofing it, knowing we were on a much bigger adventure now, but we stayed in good spirits. It makes all the difference to an adventure to have everyone in the team rational and clear-thinking, whilst maintaining some sense of humour.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgVSzi6k5-uEDOswfsIcXgCXZ00XMj1VBO-s7sDOxZ2ThmWdzuReQIRmILAaMD7Q5BoDImDfDS_lYbNyCOsQP2hur5Ne_HXXssKIriV36frz04MtZPvIAwsD0DeHSxVfFlPOScEZiO1Oy3/s1600/DSC_0095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgVSzi6k5-uEDOswfsIcXgCXZ00XMj1VBO-s7sDOxZ2ThmWdzuReQIRmILAaMD7Q5BoDImDfDS_lYbNyCOsQP2hur5Ne_HXXssKIriV36frz04MtZPvIAwsD0DeHSxVfFlPOScEZiO1Oy3/s640/DSC_0095.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Totally runnable. Bahaha. Well, totally gorgeous, anyway!</td></tr>
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With 2km to go, it was 6.20pm. I was listening intently for the sound of a plane. Then we hit sand! How cruel! Carcross is known for its sand dunes, but I didn't know the sandy ground extended so far. It was brutal. Rolf was out of water and I was giving him sips of my last bit. I couldn't afford to stop to filter any more. We had stayed close together for bear (and general) safety, but with 1km to go, I bolted ahead. I couldn't bear the thought of hearing a plane fire up and see it fly away!<br />
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As I got to Bennett Lake, the trail divided. Left down to the campground. Right down to the train station. Both ways had lakeside access. Which side would the plane be on? I couldn't choose one trail without Rolf knowing where I'd gone. I tried glimpsing between the trees to the shoreline both ways. Nothing visible. Rolf arrived and we split up. I went left down to shore, he went right and down. A few minutes later, we met up again at the junction. Nothing. We saw a family going into the one and only house there - and signs indicating private property. I'd had no reply to my satellite message. I sent another.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj3G2ESlqlRc8oy5GASquWO-Vl7id8_2XBt5yJlWgWynecsgCWeEt5k2rJOquHGUkd8wh-UljL1w5dC_2wzIPeAErgtrpo3NX7gDsRSGF7A2_Ji5NyVwlfa3t7LvZ-BCc4gMBkbPKLIMnw/s1600/DSC_0093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj3G2ESlqlRc8oy5GASquWO-Vl7id8_2XBt5yJlWgWynecsgCWeEt5k2rJOquHGUkd8wh-UljL1w5dC_2wzIPeAErgtrpo3NX7gDsRSGF7A2_Ji5NyVwlfa3t7LvZ-BCc4gMBkbPKLIMnw/s640/DSC_0093.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glaciers everywhere. We were at 900m, so they might have been at 1400m. Seems crazy, but it's latitude, I guess.</td></tr>
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"We're here, but can't see a plane. Did we miss you?" Nothing. We walked down towards the shore at the train station. I was recalling the small cabin I'd seen 1 or 2km back, which appeared to be privately owned, but open for anyone to use when the owners weren't there. Would that be tonight's lodging?<br />
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A few minutes later, a woman with a satellite phone approached. She was a Parks Canada ranger. She had brought her boat up from Lindeman Lake to visit the family, who had remarked that they had just seen a couple with "very small backpacks." She was able to call the aviation company. They informed her that they'd been delayed by several other clients over the day and wouldn't arrive for us until about 7.30pm.<br />
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Whew! Time for high-fives and hugs. We snacked in relaxed luxury by the river as I filtered a bit of water and contemplated the incredible day we'd had.<br />
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Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-8697080976021458972019-09-03T12:38:00.001-07:002019-09-03T12:38:47.117-07:00Matterhorn Ultraks 2019: A Monumental Waste of Time?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In 2018, I completed the Matterhorn Ultras Sky race. I ran the time I predicted I was capable of and landed myself on the podium, as well. It was a gorgeous route with loads of vert but still runnable trails. I was 49 years old.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Matterhorn Ultraks Sky race 2018. 6 hours and 50 minutes of hard (yet fun) running netted me 9th overall.</td></tr>
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Most of the time, I don't run the same race again. There are simply too many races and my body's ability to stay injury-free would be compromised by over-racing.<br />
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However, I was enticed by the Ultraks' magical course...and the little ego-voice in my head that whispered sweet nothings.... that I would very likely be a contender for 1st in the W50 class in 2019.<br />
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Training was a joy, spending the season in Europe, with lots of time at altitude. The Sierre-Zinal "training" race had gone really well. But two days before Ultraks, I got nauseous after dinner. A simple dinner of red capsicum, hummus, tinned beans, and rocket in the hotel room. It was a low level nausea, but it stuck around the next day. I didn't want to eat. I got weaker. My resting heart rate went from below 40 (my usual) to 60. I'd lost 20 points of my working range. I had some mystery virus, it seemed.<br />
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Friday morning, the day before the race, I did my usual 20 minute shakeout run with 3 minute sprint and started "carb loading." My version of that is basically (1) eat simple carbs all day and (2) don't get hungry. Keep the glycogen stores topped up. I had so much food, but just didn't want to eat. The nausea ranked 2/10 if I didn't eat but 4/10 or 5/10 if I did. The writing was on the wall for my race.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgU654htVgksKxZ7EbR1Lr3AzwHuXPc9b6PHuBmQhPZa4j1vhwG3Wih_v_h8_ns0R7DR4YJLVxt96PQaPY7Ns8GlgBcEvzdJFOXebyITqa-w-JvvTDGVY5mp13Ds7mxlvWPTFar0Fqd005/s1600/DSC_0022_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgU654htVgksKxZ7EbR1Lr3AzwHuXPc9b6PHuBmQhPZa4j1vhwG3Wih_v_h8_ns0R7DR4YJLVxt96PQaPY7Ns8GlgBcEvzdJFOXebyITqa-w-JvvTDGVY5mp13Ds7mxlvWPTFar0Fqd005/s640/DSC_0022_2.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even on via ferrata routes this year I never suffered the nausea of a queasy stomach.</td></tr>
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Saturday morning, I got up and had to rest periodically as I dressed. It seemed hopeless, but here I was in Zermatt, so I at least had to try. I hoped perhaps to make it to the high point of the course at over 3000m (Gornergrat) for the amazing glacier views.<br />
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I started out all right, running with last year's course on my watch, so I could see my time comparisons. I started to slow at 4km and one girl passed. I played leapfrog with another girl who was weaker on the climbs but faster on the descents. I came into the first aid station (8km Sunnegga) nearly 3 minutes behind last year's time. I found out a little later via Rolf on Whatsapp that I was 5th woman and 1st in age group at that point.<br />
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The next 90 minutes or so up to Gornergrat is all climb at altitude. I felt weaker and weaker. Everyone started to pass me. There was no shred of fun to be had. I had no "easy" pace to shift into. It was all a massive effort, even power walking.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYnWZB_iGg_PZvZoY_3E6UbdU2UgRqxeTyRi3S6UbYcnirmrd_y1Wcxfi0pby0n9bgW6ZvEPyJkwtkSkoTIka8VVH-kLF5KOCc3AjrdUtKWJgi3sStVi54SFcaVLwnlDio4N-fEaxbagrH/s1600/DSC_0216.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYnWZB_iGg_PZvZoY_3E6UbdU2UgRqxeTyRi3S6UbYcnirmrd_y1Wcxfi0pby0n9bgW6ZvEPyJkwtkSkoTIka8VVH-kLF5KOCc3AjrdUtKWJgi3sStVi54SFcaVLwnlDio4N-fEaxbagrH/s640/DSC_0216.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A small view from Gornergrat, with views of Monte Rosa and an astounding number of glaciers.</td></tr>
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At 11.5km, I pulled off the single track, walked 10 metres away, and sat on a boulder. It was a relief to sit. I sent Rolf a message that I was done and put nearly the same message on Facebook. I watched a hundred or so runners power walking past and then tried to pick my way downhill around them. Tricky. I finally found a junction where I could run a different trail back down to Sunnegga to tell them I was "retiring." But I couldn't even run. I had no interest in my fuel, even though I was so hungry. At Sunnegga, I even took the funicular down to town - unheard of for me! I couldn't even run downhill!<br />
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Back at the hotel, I curled up on the bed and snoozed lightly for a bit. I spent the rest of that day and the next trying to convince myself to eat. Whenever successful, I would get wicked gas and belching for a few hours. I wasn't good company! My most successful food item was plain potato chips (crisps). Normally that much fat would nauseate me - but it was actually the least nauseating!<br />
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All day Saturday the words that kept coming to mind were, "Well, THAT was a monumental waste of time!" That voice, of course, was the little ego. It was sulking. All that money spent on hotels and accommodation at altitude and saunas. The little ego even looked up results to see where she would have placed, had she run the 7 hour race she expected. 3rd. And 1st in age group. Oh, dear little ego, how much suffering you create for yourself!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZfBbNJbwkI-AidFLtlvDetS02kkYODJP0cfwjpE0zYR2aSykhy4TMdqfztJ_Nyws0kvlkgvUN1m0LPWSSmDs0ioJqhHX_gAb-h5pDfcrw19UEkGIW43HWdSWT18eyv77GFJhSlY0yDGD1/s1600/DSC_0049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZfBbNJbwkI-AidFLtlvDetS02kkYODJP0cfwjpE0zYR2aSykhy4TMdqfztJ_Nyws0kvlkgvUN1m0LPWSSmDs0ioJqhHX_gAb-h5pDfcrw19UEkGIW43HWdSWT18eyv77GFJhSlY0yDGD1/s640/DSC_0049.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Altitude night on the Brienzer Rothorn with views to Eiger, Monch, Jungfrau and Co. Waste of time?!?</td></tr>
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So, what did I do with all my leftover Hammer Perpetuem, with all that altitude training, and legs that had only done 25% of the course? I went to Oberaarhorn on Monday, a 3631m peak in the Bernese alps, to do my first independent alpine tour with crampons and ice axe, roped up with my partner on a crevassed glacier all day. Luckily, my nausea was staying at 2/10 by then and I had become a fat burning machine.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOT6hztuW0Lb3DPCpcDIRstcO53-dGzYMNCJRKseK78t7QHcvxQ-T4NnrrffwWD_nZYLoOJBIn9V-UgOp2YXv81GnWNJVY1sWKofgCy3_FLmrF3cM_lzURBUIB_t4bOM4p1XPJUZ00RPjq/s1600/DSC_0065.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1138" data-original-width="1600" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOT6hztuW0Lb3DPCpcDIRstcO53-dGzYMNCJRKseK78t7QHcvxQ-T4NnrrffwWD_nZYLoOJBIn9V-UgOp2YXv81GnWNJVY1sWKofgCy3_FLmrF3cM_lzURBUIB_t4bOM4p1XPJUZ00RPjq/s640/DSC_0065.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oberaarhorn, with the route below from the lake, up the glacier.</td></tr>
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I followed up Monday's summit with another trip to the Bernese alps Friday for Balmhorn, 3698m. More glacier, a grat, and crevasses.<br />
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A monumental waste of time? No, little ego. You just received an important lesson. A gift from the universe.<br />
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Spending resources - time and money - on becoming healthy, strong, and fit is NEVER a waste of time. It opens doors for exploration. I've explored a 6 day fast-packing route through Valais, become an alpinist, and spent three separate days mountaineering at 3700m+.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enroute to Balmhorm, with the bare gipfel (summit) behind and right of the glaciated vorgipfel (fore-summit) </td></tr>
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Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-90424836487707870352019-08-23T07:09:00.002-07:002019-08-23T11:37:31.756-07:00Sierre-Zinal: La Course Des Cinq 4000<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Over the last few years, I've enjoyed the challenge of shorter rather than longer races.<br />
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On the plus side, the race is over sooner, which means less toll on the body and quicker recovery. I've enjoyed the exploration in terms of training a bit more "sharply" and having to race near "red line" for effort, careful not to go over! I've also gotten to explore some new areas where these shorter races are held. On the down side, I guess, if there is one, it's that I can't be as competitive, given my age. But when I run my "regret-o-meter" for life, it tells me to "write my own story." I'd say I'm just me, doing "me", but I think it's more that I'm inventing me as I go through life!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the high country above Sierre</td></tr>
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The Sierre-Zinal is a 31km point-to-point race from the town of Sierre at the bottom of the Val d'Anniviers in the French-speaking canton of Valais (Wallis in German) to Zinal, at the "top" of the valley (for cars, at least). The start elevation is 570m and the finish line is at 1680m. But you go up much more than that! The race has 2200m up and 1100m down. Most people describe it as a race in three parts. First, there's the big climb to Ponchette (~7.5km + 1370m). There's pretty much a VK in there (Vertical Km, which is a race that covers D+1000m in less than 5k). From there to Hotel Weisshorn (20km) and Nava (the highest point at 2425m/24km), there's still climbing, but there are more undulations. It's considered "fast and flat" ... in a relative way! From Nava, at 24km, the course starts to drop nicely towards Zinal. Then you realise Zinal is right below you and you still need to lose another 400m. It's a near vertical descent at that point.</div>
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The fastest men run just under 2h30 and women just under 3hr. I calculated sub 4hr for myself, with a slight possibility of 3h50. I do my calculations based on my running and racing history, considering elevation and altitude. I used some uphill 9km-12km mountain races and the 49km Matterhorn Ultraks race last year as guiding templates. Looking at the last 10 years of W50 results, it appeared that I could be contender for the age group win. But it just depends on who shows up, so all I could focus on was my own splits and effort level.</div>
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The race has a very quirky start. It's literally at the edge of a highway overpass - the bottom of the valley. They have a "touristes" category that starts in 5 waves, from 4:45am through 5:25am, in the dark. The "elites" depart in 3 waves between 10am and 10:10am. I was in the 10am wave. The night before the race my heart rate stayed below 40. I was super calm, because I told myself it was just a training run for Matterhorn Ultraks and given that the event is a Golden Trail Series race and World Mountain Running race, the depth of the field would have me a little fish in a big sea. Really, that's a thought to ponder, as getting all egocentric about any race really just limits my own experience and enjoyment in life.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Starting under the highway</td></tr>
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A bus picked me up from my accommodation in Grimentz village, halfway up the valley, at 8.30am. How civilised. I enjoyed a relaxing bus ride down, down, down. Which served to make me less relaxed as it reminded me how much climbing was ahead! The start has a forested, rural feeling, being outside of town, which I enjoyed. And it was easy to find a "little girls' bush", too, and avoid the smelly portaloos and the queues in the sun. It was heating up quickly in the valley. I was surprised by the number of people doing warm up runs - especially in that heat. Nervous energy for some, I think. </div>
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I handed over my finish line drop bag, in which I had stashed shower supplies, clothes, Hammer vegan recovery powder, a 50CHF note, and my Android phone. I had wrapped the phone in everything. The volunteer took my bag and threw it backwards into a giant metal skip bin type thing, not unlike a centre footballer passing the ball back to the quarterback. I cringed.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The "flat and fast" section.</td></tr>
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10 minutes before the start, runners in the first block left their shady spots in the trees and started filing in. I dumped the 400ml of water remaining in my plastic PET bottle over my head and down my shirt, front and back, stifling the desire to shriek with the cold feeling. It was hot. I self-seeded about halfway through the block. There was a fair bit of jostling around me. Again, nervous energy.</div>
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Once underway, we were straight into climbing, but the road was wide at first, allowing people to start passing and spreading out. I get frustrated at people who pass me at times like this, when I later have to pass them back on the technical steep single track. But at the same time, I understand that they are presumably playing to their strengths - if they know they are fast on flatter terrain and suffer badly on the steep, they should capitalise on the flatter parts.<br />
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After the steep climbing, it took some minutes for my hips and calves to stretch and relax out so I could find something resembling a normal running gait. It eventually came.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was delicate work, getting the muscles to play along with the changing course demands and it paid off!</td></tr>
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This is a race where the "touristes" wear hydration packs, but only a few "elites" do. With 7 aid stations, there was water for me every 25-45 minutes. I was sure to take the time to drink two full cups at each aid station and also sponge myself down. I fuelled with Hammer Nutrition gels (had 3 of the 4 I took) and nothing from the aid stations but water. Except for that accidental swig of sugary "Iso" drink!</div>
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I had one quick near-cramp in a calf during the speedy descent and was really afraid the calves, especially my left, were going to cramp when I stopped so suddenly at the finish line. I had no idea of my position in the W50 category, but I was over the moon about my time - 3hr53. A medal with a bit of rock from the Weisshorn (one of the 5 4000m peaks at the head of the valley) was placed around my neck.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijrnDDiQxvbjFOQ_B2wjMHFyt9cv4W7o5SVvx_aDi83yv-ZxapMZj_fSVuTIFuFk6RtFveDflNJvUiMOs7xQQYSIAzxLVHLOlEG-InzO9zGhg8P4InFIAOxHAifezzdROT4uDksqtlWW5Q/s1600/IMG-20190811-WA0004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijrnDDiQxvbjFOQ_B2wjMHFyt9cv4W7o5SVvx_aDi83yv-ZxapMZj_fSVuTIFuFk6RtFveDflNJvUiMOs7xQQYSIAzxLVHLOlEG-InzO9zGhg8P4InFIAOxHAifezzdROT4uDksqtlWW5Q/s400/IMG-20190811-WA0004.jpg" width="225" /></a>The race organisers have obviously seen too many runners screaming with calf cramps, so they aimed to beat it with their fleet of people doing calf massages just after the finish line! My left calf looked like it had a worm in it the way it pulsed. After that, the priorities were water, shade, more water, and slow walking to ease the calves back into complacency. I found my drop bag and dug out my phone. Best day ever. Phone was fine. I took it off aeroplane mode and set out to check online results.</div>
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I was surprised by my own reaction. Given the depth of the field and the short nature of the race, I thought I might expect to see my name below the top 3. I got a little teary for a moment as I saw my position - I did it! First in age group.</div>
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A full massage was available after a shower, but I ran out of time, as I had to get to presentations. The race ran tip-top from everything I could see in regards to drop bags, course marking, aid stations, and safety (I even saw a helicopter rescue), but there was no information available to indicate that they honoured anyone at presentations other than top 5 or 10 "scratch" runners. I had to ask two people at the "information" kiosk before they could confirm that I would be put on stage for the category win.</div>
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The entire presentation was in French and only French. It taxed my skills, but I heard "Femme deux" (Femme-II category) announced. I walked through an aisle of children waving Valais flags up to the stage. I've never heard "Benson Bernadette" said with such flair before! (They announced surname then first name for all, which tends to be the Euro way in writing, but not usually in speaking.)<br />
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My strongest memories of Sierre-Zinal include the steep descent into the finish, the way that man announced me at presentations, and being smashed in the face repeatedly as I ran the gauntlet of small children with paper flags!</div>
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Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-50509932966589131402019-08-05T13:57:00.002-07:002019-08-06T11:25:17.254-07:00Via Valais: A Suggested Haute Route for Trail Runners<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Over the winter, I came across a mention of the <a href="https://elevation.alpsinsight.com/via-valais/" target="_blank">Via Valais</a> in my Swiss trail magazine, <a href="https://www.sac-cas.ch/de/die-alpen/" target="_blank">Die Alpen</a>. It's a suggested 9 day "high route" for trail runners, akin to what skiers and hikers have. I was intrigued.<br />
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I've been running hiking "haute routes" in fastpacking style for years in the European alps. Presumably, this chosen route would be designed to be more running friendly in terms of grade than a "haute route" for hikers. As they wrote on their website, it would "traverse" in and out of valleys rather that go straight up and down.<br />
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Well, as I discovered, in the Valais region of French-speaking Switzerland, even a "traverse" often has a pretty steep grade! When you want to get from col or summit to the valley and up the other side, there's going to have to be elevation. "Runnable" is a very relative term! Let's dive in....<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The faint green shows the route. Going west to east, you essentially valley hop.</td></tr>
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The route goes from a cable car station above Verbier to Zermatt over 9 stages. I decided to have my adventure end at the village of Randa - the end of Stage 7. I ran the trails from Randa into Zermatt last year. They are stellar - some of the best - with some of the best views. I didn't feel the need to do it again so soon. And Zermatt is a busy place. Seven days was enough for me.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arcteryx 14ltr -added cords for more storage</td></tr>
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Then I considered how to compress two stages into one to give myself one very long day out in the middle somewhere. I'm not too good at sitting around huts and I like to challenge myself. I chose to combine Stages 3 and 4. By the end of Stage (Day) 1, however, I was a bit concerned about my idea!<br />
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It's always best to book your spot at a cabane (hut/refuge) in advance, which I'd done. Most only take cash. I had gpx courses loaded on my Garmin 920XT.<br />
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<b>Day 1 (Stage 1): </b>Les Ruinettes (~2200m) to Cabane D'Essertze (~2200m), advertised as 29km +/-1120m. I had a leisurely start and was at the top of the cable car at 10am with a good, stable forecast for a week. That's critical for this high alpine stuff and hard to find in summer! But going early in the season would require more gear and would pose more risks with lingering angled snow fields to cross. And some via ferrata (with ladders) might not be put in yet for the summer season if there's still a risk of avalanche onto it.<br />
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Given at least 7kg on my back, I figured the day would take me 6 - 7 hours with a nice lunch stop along the way. It was, indeed, 7 hours, but there was only a frantic inhaling of a torte myrtille (blueberry tart) and Schorle (sparkling apple juice) mid-afternoon. That took a matter of a few minutes. I was also "off trail" for a good 30 minutes of the day. I needed to learn that "wanderwegs" (sentiers/trails) often change each year, especially in glaciated areas. Winter snow and spring run off, with accompanying landslides, can dramatically alter a landscape, causing trails to be rerouted through an area. I reached the first of such places about 3 hours into my day and spent over 20 minutes having left the marked red-and-white trail, following my gpx, which was trying to have me cross a very fast flowing glacial run-off. After a few attempts at starting across, and then trying numerous other places to ford the dangerous water, I finally turned back to try following the red-and-white markers. Sure enough, they went all the way around the outside of this area and then reconnected with the gpx route on the other side. First lesson learned. I was much better prepared later in the day when I came to a landslide. My gpx said go straight on, but I noted the red-and-white blazes on the rocks had me turning left. I started following the gpx - with my radar on alert this time - only to realise there had been a huge landslide and the trail was rerouted this year to pass below it.<br />
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A savvy trail runner in these parts needs to appreciate this aspect of running with gpx files - maintain situational awareness, understand the lay of the land and why routes might need to vary after a hard winter/spring. My 30k day was in fact 33k. My average pace was thus 12.50min/k (I don't stop my watch when I pee, eat, etc - this helps me appreciate the reality of timing for future runs.)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A "trail" on Stage 1, headed for Col de Louvie at 2921m. Boulder fields are also very slow, but there's a reward coming!</td></tr>
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Much of Stage 1's "claim to fame" is supposed to be running on "bisse" trails - "old irrigation ditches that tend to be silky smooth for running" according to the website. A half truth. Every bisse trail I can recall was super narrow, with small trippy rocks, and also sometimes 'grooved' out in a trench. They were annoyingly slow for running. I passed a couple of Alaskan/Seattle American trail runners on a snow descent section and met them later at the hut. They said they had been "crushed" by the stage.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwFPF5kCC1g4AMu5qdS0915T_YFRkEwAggjxMlKTvhAGdT4cu7inSyKN5aMl5s8IBvs003NB31VWUqqfDa9bScn_Sj2HaKYb303RAkOKFDezeGnAutPVr7grN3vJC1vNLd0dLgxVv5zbL_/s1600/DSC_0076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwFPF5kCC1g4AMu5qdS0915T_YFRkEwAggjxMlKTvhAGdT4cu7inSyKN5aMl5s8IBvs003NB31VWUqqfDa9bScn_Sj2HaKYb303RAkOKFDezeGnAutPVr7grN3vJC1vNLd0dLgxVv5zbL_/s640/DSC_0076.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reward for reaching a col - stunning new views and snow descent! Below is where I tried to cross the raging torrent.</td></tr>
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The hut at day's end was run privately by a mixed French-Canadian/Swiss-French family. They were incredibly welcoming, organised, relaxed but efficient, and really sought to give me vegan options for dinner, breakfast, and my take-away "pique-nique" the next morning. Their prices were the best, as well. They have a road up to their place, which means they aren't paying a helicopter to deliver supplies and remove waste. And their water was potable - a bonus in not having to get out the water filter. They even discounted my picnic because I didn't take the usual meat and cheese! I made almond butter and jam sandwiches (I brought 3 sachets of almond butter for this purpose.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ10tUWDI7IR5J_QR0x6f2M4I5cRwl0ygKomOkgcG_s67U9iUsv8h7xszFNHHILZHgu7fRoNDuGEM_qVtHHvj4a24ARtfKXa3_P7xbq-C9hz7eEjtJOWl-yIQoWOeokbpS9p0ZMakXJgVE/s1600/DSC_0093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ10tUWDI7IR5J_QR0x6f2M4I5cRwl0ygKomOkgcG_s67U9iUsv8h7xszFNHHILZHgu7fRoNDuGEM_qVtHHvj4a24ARtfKXa3_P7xbq-C9hz7eEjtJOWl-yIQoWOeokbpS9p0ZMakXJgVE/s640/DSC_0093.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cabane D'Essertze</td></tr>
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<b>Day 2 (Stage 2):</b> Cabane D'Essertze (~2200m) to Cabane Aiguille Rouge (~2800m), advertised as ~30km + 1800m - 1200m. Putting on my shoes outside the hut at 8am, I chatted briefly to two German (or Swiss-German?) girls who had also run the first stage the day before. They decided the days seemed far too much for them and were going to start adjusting them to suit, starting by breaking Stage 2 in half. I never saw them again.<br />
<br />
This stage was much more runnable than Stage 1, however, and I was done in 6.5 hours. A 12:12min/k average. But there was still no lingering lunch stop. I clocked 31.5k + 1545m - 1000m. A key feature of this day was the Pas de Chevres (Pass of the Goats). It involved a set of 4 connected ladders, which you reach via a scramble over a moraine with some giant boulders. Awesome slightly scary fun.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYACjGR_dSFNwRHmp3VTrNDeWt_XUkKOsx2GUVyUSGJXaWutHh3Vibvdkvjw6zHf7LbSCrPovaUmjZOgyqtjmYnkefnz-0yOrJvC9q6QCZPRGZWqcV9k52pFYGOMEwxPkCJccAW6CoVgoe/s1600/DSC_0019_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYACjGR_dSFNwRHmp3VTrNDeWt_XUkKOsx2GUVyUSGJXaWutHh3Vibvdkvjw6zHf7LbSCrPovaUmjZOgyqtjmYnkefnz-0yOrJvC9q6QCZPRGZWqcV9k52pFYGOMEwxPkCJccAW6CoVgoe/s640/DSC_0019_1.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enroute to becoming a goat.</td></tr>
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An unfortunate aspect of cols/passes/saddles is that everyone has the same idea - stop at the top for summit sandwiches :) This is an unfortunate thing for me, as an introvert. This section was also shared with a Cicerone guide book "haute route" for hikers. I thought I'd landed in England at the top and heard the word "bollocks" far too many times in a minute - and there were no goats involved ;) I decided I'd enjoy my summit sandwich without having to hear people discussing whether they could get mobile reception or not, so I headed downhill.<br />
<br />
Cabane Aiguille Rouge is also privately owned (i.e., not a Swiss Alpine Club/SAC hut). I've met gruff and grumbly hut wardens before, but he was one of the best. It was not a nice atmosphere inside for any of the guests. There was an air of silence inside, uncommon in most huts. I was on the trail by 7.40am the next day, after one of the worst breakfasts possible at a hut. Not a place to hang out. The American trail runners had come in two hours after me. I write that not to boast, but to try to make it very clear that this route is TOUGH. They were also jetlagged, which wasn't helping them.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOpAGIIcfxXp73q6nUtLnsXB0L_JgWTfNgNwtgRFSYTRuuwjqGExuPyKPqXnhgPkchL7IRYlba80z7zggRBWkkJkJB498gBLfow5bAiimTPS2kzaujc_whlK4b_cgee68aZOK9zJyRMsbR/s1600/DSC_0014_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOpAGIIcfxXp73q6nUtLnsXB0L_JgWTfNgNwtgRFSYTRuuwjqGExuPyKPqXnhgPkchL7IRYlba80z7zggRBWkkJkJB498gBLfow5bAiimTPS2kzaujc_whlK4b_cgee68aZOK9zJyRMsbR/s640/DSC_0014_1.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stale white bread, usually restricted to the highest alpine huts. Jam, butter, instant coffee, 1 tea, and 1 choco-sugar drink.</td></tr>
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<b>Day 3 (Stage 3 and 4 combined, minus a few km): </b>Cabane Aiguille Rouge (~2800m) to Cabane Becs de Bosson (~3000m) 25km + 2220m - 2050m and Cabane Becs de Bosson to Cabane De Moiry (~2825m) 17km + 870m - 1025m.<br />
<br />
I had decided on a long day, combining these two stages. However, given the average pace seemed to be over 12min/k, I realised this long day could very well be 10 hours. Thus, by looking at the maps, I noted that I could get to within 2km of the Becs de Bosson hut, but skip it. I went through the same terrain, but stayed just below the hut, cutting off roughly 2km from each stage, so 4km in total. I was really happy with my choice.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKCMiDRsFpaeXGOTBrh3twhM0HahZF8y3C6MNn0hE-6fbV4hbUM3bpEXNNh359e9PdsIMXajlZti38S2N6jTfNyELXjGYH41UrL5y0MEJRJ4zvdJuwizjGB40HlklbeihdRcy-eCTpG5ph/s1600/DSC_0004_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKCMiDRsFpaeXGOTBrh3twhM0HahZF8y3C6MNn0hE-6fbV4hbUM3bpEXNNh359e9PdsIMXajlZti38S2N6jTfNyELXjGYH41UrL5y0MEJRJ4zvdJuwizjGB40HlklbeihdRcy-eCTpG5ph/s640/DSC_0004_1.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leaving Aiguille Rouge starts with a bit of great moraine before the steep drop around the bend to the right.</td></tr>
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The day started with a super long, steep descent from Aiguille Rouge. I couldn't afford to smash my shins up by letting loose. This wasn't a one day outing. My legs were feeling the vert of two days and jostling down the gnarly track with the big pack on my back didn't help my pace any! It was over 11min/k. We were in the middle of a heat wave. I was starting each day in a short sleeve t-shirt, even from 2900m! Arriving at the valley floor in the lovely historical little village of Evolene had me racing around filling my arms with fruit and cold beverages. It was apricot season. I'm sure I smelled and looked like a wild animal.<br />
<br />
From the low point of 1371m, I had to climb back out towards the Pas de Lona at 2787m, under the Cabane Becs de Bosson. It was during this climb towards the Becs de Bosson that I made a right at a fork in order to skip the hut. I felt an initial sense of unease at not having a gpx track on my watch anymore, but that was quickly followed by a feeling of total relaxation and freedom. Suddenly, I didn't have a "route" that I "had" to follow anymore. I could pick and choose where, when, and how to go. Total freedom! Not following anyone else's rules - woohoo! I immediately realised how odd it was that I had felt a subconscious pressure to do the exact "correct" route given by the Via Valais team online. But, really, who cares? Why? I've always made up my routes in the past for fastpacking and loved them. I've been able to be flexible to change as I went along. I had unwittingly made a rule in my head that said if I didn't follow their route, I was somehow "slack" or "wrong." Whose adventure was this, anyway? :)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4_u7RAjb4X0gCTcK2oXi1h1DTIw3W50pqmY4_dF8YQekscg3LS5MKuiFweW4dkvP-z6SY7Vnd7cXx0kWVR2l8ZaNTDTG3Sh82uYV4ZxuM9yLvCRykpoUGdhOWXvMUQpxZHfGrohmjGmrZ/s1600/DSC_0025_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4_u7RAjb4X0gCTcK2oXi1h1DTIw3W50pqmY4_dF8YQekscg3LS5MKuiFweW4dkvP-z6SY7Vnd7cXx0kWVR2l8ZaNTDTG3Sh82uYV4ZxuM9yLvCRykpoUGdhOWXvMUQpxZHfGrohmjGmrZ/s640/DSC_0025_2.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lac de Lona from near the pass. Headed into the valley ahead where Lac de Moiry is.</td></tr>
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Arriving at Pas de Lona, I gave a nod to the cabane above to my left and joined the gpx track for Stage 4. The landscape changed on the high plateau and the colours were fantastic. I enjoyed a long runnable descent past Lac de Lona, then a short climb to a col next to Sex de Marinda (sex means rock), and another long descent to Lac de Moiry (a dam). After a flat run alongside the lake, I had the last climb along a moraine, then a bit of via ferrata and some slightly precarious sloped snow crossings to get to Cabane de Moiry. In 8.5 hours I covered ~41km +/- 2540m. Average pace 12.31. There's a theme here.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE9LQeUac4A-pCKYWZ6vwKX2lhRaCU2tdLH2Vh9wnJS9x5XvC5qBCeb9tmTuEhKJXKXmPiARrE38ww0OOEujwLrdwwu0dFb-3U-wA7AaVvTpZbl6aUsfkiBC09W-HSs9Rg4I2c1ChHHSU2/s1600/DSC_0039_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE9LQeUac4A-pCKYWZ6vwKX2lhRaCU2tdLH2Vh9wnJS9x5XvC5qBCeb9tmTuEhKJXKXmPiARrE38ww0OOEujwLrdwwu0dFb-3U-wA7AaVvTpZbl6aUsfkiBC09W-HSs9Rg4I2c1ChHHSU2/s640/DSC_0039_2.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A pleasant run along Lac de Moiry, headed for the cabane, which is above left of that "black hole" in the glacier ahead.</td></tr>
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I had my first chance for a shower (most huts don't have the option), so paid the 5CHF for 5 minutes. I got out and my feet still stunk. Shower fail. Despite being right beside a huge glacier at 2825m, it was so hot! My evening attire (i.e., my only set of clean clothes) was long johns and it was too hot for those, so I had to put my CEP running shorts back on for the evening. No trail runners sighted, but climbers were here to do the surrounding peaks.<br />
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Each stage has a suggested "bonus peak." I hadn't done any thus far and was keen on Pigne de la Le (3396m), the peak behind the cabane. It was listed on Via Valais' website as "easy ridge scrambling." The two climbers I met at the hut during dinner talked me out of it. I know the ease of routes changes depending on time of year and conditions and everyone has a different risk/comfort level, but based on what they said, it sounded like Type 3 fun. Especially being alone.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg70AQxzfDJQYjK7eHqouMIXwXlRtPzFFYIKmczlw3koO5OlZyVgArbrq0l-QLTWBib2dtThJotTUqVgSPZEyeinMI1hPN7bIkWYWmSQS7x_a7oT02n23Ku6T2hIrFLnpPPVz2D_9ACz_7P/s1600/DSC_0047_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg70AQxzfDJQYjK7eHqouMIXwXlRtPzFFYIKmczlw3koO5OlZyVgArbrq0l-QLTWBib2dtThJotTUqVgSPZEyeinMI1hPN7bIkWYWmSQS7x_a7oT02n23Ku6T2hIrFLnpPPVz2D_9ACz_7P/s640/DSC_0047_1.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My view for the evening, with the "black hole" in the glacier now below me.</td></tr>
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<b>Day 4 (Stage 5):</b> Cabane de Moiry (~2825m) to Zinal (~1600m). Advertised as 24km + 1064m - 2215m. Breakfast at this cabane was offered between 5.30am and 7.30am. No one's sleeping in there. After leaving the cabane, I traversed and climbed up to Col de Sorebois (2850m). Sweat was dripping off me and it wasn't even 10am. At the pass, the next valley appeared below - Val d'Anniviers, with Zinal as the destination. There's a handy-dandy cable car right there, ready to take people down. And the cabane even offered a free pass for the cable car with every stay! (A special promotion being done by the Val d'Anniviers communities this year.) But I was in no hurry to get to Zinal and couldn't bear the thought of missing my promised "incredible views of Zinalrothorn, Weisshorn, and Dent Blanche." I was committed to doing the long traverse into town instead. I did enjoy an espresso at the cable car station first.<br />
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And a long traverse it was! It went up before it went down, there were lots of narrow bits, and when it did finally go down, my right shin let me know it was getting tired of all these shenanigans. The waterfall was the highlight and welcome in the heat. I spent some time setting up a selfie photo and didn't mind all the water spray at all. The last section of downhill was another super steep bit, with water in the area, causing vegetation to thrive. Much of the trail was overgrown and it was hard to see my footing. Nettles are a real pain for me, as I react really badly, so that added to my challenge in that section. I felt like I was trying to run in an overgrown ditch.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYWRgKMN0e0GxWg46xoi4X42QaZcHExTVejYgOh7U-RKWs66aCkyo3yXcVBI3aPr95Jw7tQC1CLjBHp3yZ27bnDBRsKNetpm9jLLyiD0MGe101GpiXH1-NFjr42LHqVJjZQ58VG0d3J0kR/s1600/DSC_0022_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYWRgKMN0e0GxWg46xoi4X42QaZcHExTVejYgOh7U-RKWs66aCkyo3yXcVBI3aPr95Jw7tQC1CLjBHp3yZ27bnDBRsKNetpm9jLLyiD0MGe101GpiXH1-NFjr42LHqVJjZQ58VG0d3J0kR/s640/DSC_0022_2.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Highlight of traverse: crossing a waterfall - the rope was prudent, given the water flowing over the rocks under foot.</td></tr>
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Surprisingly, my Garmin actually agreed with the distance advertised. I got 24km, but with slight variations in vert (+890m - 1980m), and I was out there 5.25 hours, which included for the first time a proper 15 minute sit-down picnic at Sorebois. Average pace was therefore 13min/k. There's so much terrain in this route that I sure wouldn't want to be on in the rain or in a whiteout (as when you are in a cloud with near zero visibility). There are tons of narrow sections along ridges, which would get slick from mud in the wet. The rocks would also become treacherous at these times. Boulder fields are nasty in rain - I've been there before! In some plateaus and boulder fields, markings (blazes on rocks) would be impossible to see in low visibility (as in a storm). Route finding would be near impossible at such times (been there before, too!)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQdSfYPg-Wc5UN4ZpZyki6qtNqKS2MkOHrua8KoVA0BkVYiS242aSocKMZnX8SPVwjWjt9WaZ08rwDDaP1BrnseKz5uEmwhAeRgVJ4ZcSVV6xQ7weQ57Bqo7LBwixoevbriaN68Kj028SM/s1600/DSC_0024_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQdSfYPg-Wc5UN4ZpZyki6qtNqKS2MkOHrua8KoVA0BkVYiS242aSocKMZnX8SPVwjWjt9WaZ08rwDDaP1BrnseKz5uEmwhAeRgVJ4ZcSVV6xQ7weQ57Bqo7LBwixoevbriaN68Kj028SM/s640/DSC_0024_2.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In case you don't believe the sign warning of land/rockslides, mother nature brings the point home more clearly.</td></tr>
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I stayed in a great room in Zinal with a shower (no toilet). I literally walked into my room, took off my shoes and pack, and stepped into the shower with all my running gear on. It was too hot for the long johns again, but damp clean running shorts on a hot day were welcome. I ate a smashed avocado and kidney beans over a bag of rocket (arugula), with my little turmeric stash as anti-inflammatory enhancing flavouring.<br />
<br />
<b>Day 5 (Stage 6):</b> Zinal (~1600m) to Turtmann hut (~2520m). Advertised as 19km + 1687m - 841m. More up than down, to balance out the day before. I got an 8.30am start and was in a t-shirt as usual. Not once in the six days did I wear my lightweight Montane rain jacket, though I did use my Arcteryx synthetic midweight jacket a few evenings. Not to say my rain jacket wasn't handy - wrapped around the makeshift webbing on my pack, I would fill the sleeves with my daily picnic, as I had no more room to stash a sandwich, fruit, and carrots.<br />
<br />
The bonus summit for stage 6 is L'Omen Roso, at 3031m, accessed from the Col de la Forcletta. Heading up to the col, I passed two single trail runners - a first. This section out of Zinal is the end of the Sierre-Zinal 31km mountain race held each August. Neither trail runner had a pack or other visible gear with them.<br />
<br />
Thunderstorms were now forecast as a possibility for the next two afternoons. Once I got to the col and could assess the weather in 360 degree view, I decided to do the quick bonus summit. I scrambled to 3042m. In the distance, I could see a lower prominence, but the distance I'd travelled and the altitude told me this should be the peak. At least it was the highest point :) Later, I discovered that L'Omen Roso is indeed slightly lower than the prominence I stopped at. How odd!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDbz7Un5samAU3Ma985CmwC62XaDqZnE0IP8Id6dqHtueY_xo0NG-qT41Z0n0CEsBbc4R7Gtnd2EfGWYQ8LfHKN3wI_8HV7Z-5efs3TYV2j0N41dCML2GQL5B2W8S-UrT_OD__EYeHR5G8/s1600/DSC_0022_3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDbz7Un5samAU3Ma985CmwC62XaDqZnE0IP8Id6dqHtueY_xo0NG-qT41Z0n0CEsBbc4R7Gtnd2EfGWYQ8LfHKN3wI_8HV7Z-5efs3TYV2j0N41dCML2GQL5B2W8S-UrT_OD__EYeHR5G8/s640/DSC_0022_3.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From L'Omen Roso (actually P.2042), I see the Schollijoch (tomorrow's pass). Below that, Turtmann hut.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I descended into the Turtmann valley. Crossing the pass was the unofficial border between French and Swiss-German speaking regions. Valais was now called Wallis. A valley was now a tal (Turtmanntal) rather than a val (like Val d'Anniviers). They call this 'border' the Rostigraben - Rosti is a Swiss-German potato pancake made from grated potatoes. Graben is a burrow or ditch.<br />
<br />
I finished the day with 20.5k + 1705m - 930m. So almost bang-on for distance and vert, given I did the bonus peak. Average pace was 15.29min/k - slower for the scramble summit and taking a bit more time in the day generally, knowing it was short.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP0ht-av9gfuaNCA_LYAuZNwnFCVI038u_bX69hRjVb2Hkfka4hyphenhyphenYo5JvD-2UWshslzGM45KLuFwY8Bi1CCaDG61R3cYyCoNc0D5nCGkLWLwy3bRNH5pqYBzIH10Ve8IA4DWEWhc2n0pXm/s1600/DSC_0026_3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP0ht-av9gfuaNCA_LYAuZNwnFCVI038u_bX69hRjVb2Hkfka4hyphenhyphenYo5JvD-2UWshslzGM45KLuFwY8Bi1CCaDG61R3cYyCoNc0D5nCGkLWLwy3bRNH5pqYBzIH10Ve8IA4DWEWhc2n0pXm/s640/DSC_0026_3.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another dam. Turtmann hut sits above and behind, centre photo, as a black dot on the ledge. Glacier behind it.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Arriving at the hut, I reminded the hut warden that I was vegan (it was in my reservation, but if they forget, it gets stressful at dinner time when they're trying to feed a heap of people at once). This year I have found a stunning difference at the huts - they all seem to be suddenly catering for vegans, at least in a basic way. In prior years, it's been a real struggle. Requesting simply "rice or potatoes" often made hut guardians upset; I think it was because they pride themselves on good meals. They want to provide something lovely - it would embarrass them to serve a plate of plain potatoes. I was shocked by the Turtmann guardian's reply. "In my heart, I am vegan, too. But being here.... You are the second one today."<br />
<br />
I then went through my usual routine. Most hikers, I notice, collapse onto the nearest bench outside on arrival, cold beer in hand. Me? I prefer to do my chores, then relax. So, first, I have my Hammer protein recovery powder and my "Race Cap Supreme" which seems to keep my restless legs at bay. Then I like to wash, whilst I'm still as warm as possible. Standing half naked at a sink rubbing freezing cold mountain water on my skin is a mixed emotion experience. It's also a really slow process compared to a shower. Once the washing is done and I'm in my "hut clothes," I go about filtering my water for the next day, unloading any rubbish, shifting things as need be to have the pack more ready for morning. Filtering water can save 10-15CHF per day. And it saves several sea turtles, I reckon, by reducing my plastic bottle consumption. I get my "hutten schlafsack" out - a silk sleeping bag liner - and lay it on my chosen (or assigned) bed in the dorm. One must sleep in a liner for hygiene reasons. The pillows and duvets provided at the huts are only washed once a season, I believe. Once the chores are done, I go order lots of hot and/or cold drinks and enjoy the views outside. At Turtmann hut, I wanted it all - I ordered a schwarztee (black tea), a Schorle, and a bottle of sparkling water to dilute the Schorle even more. So much for the turtles :(<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4oGRuOh5tnn7173aK39fuFwnL_WlPnZZ1PIzCITa5d-9A9LH1TWFikNt-zE-bf5XAffhNX0OCeytKfdQlZhiplVRXZivNp3UJXveavNjlfFLw4dLcuDlNTOQC_5MAKTaJHTV_VlVYsPMR/s1600/DSC_0036_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4oGRuOh5tnn7173aK39fuFwnL_WlPnZZ1PIzCITa5d-9A9LH1TWFikNt-zE-bf5XAffhNX0OCeytKfdQlZhiplVRXZivNp3UJXveavNjlfFLw4dLcuDlNTOQC_5MAKTaJHTV_VlVYsPMR/s640/DSC_0036_1.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just below Turtmann hut. Another insanely gorgeous place to spend a night.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A weak thunderstorm came through about 4.30pm. Thunderstorms were forecast as a threat all day for the following day, which was slightly stressful, given I was going to do the biggest pass and the biggest via ferrata onto a glacier the next day. I reminded myself that I'd just have to roll with the conditions and be willing to turn back and run out Turtmann valley instead of via the glacier towards Zermatt, if that was required.<br />
<br />
I was initially worried at dinner when others got cream soup and I got parsley bouillon. Then others got green salad with cream and fatty pork slices and I got the greens with vinegar. Not many calories for me.... But the main made up for it - all the couscous I could eat, along with a huge bowl of mixed veg in a thick tomato base. For the first time, I went to bed not hungry.<br />
<br />
<b>Day 6 (Stage 7):</b> Turtmann hut (~2520m) to Randa (~1500m), 18k + 1376m - 2453m. Another massive downhill day. The bonus peak is Ussers Barrhorn, typically just called Barrhorn. It stands at 3610m and is considered the highest "hikeable" peak in Switzerland. I did it last year, running from Turtmann valley past the hut to the summit, then back in a day.<br />
<br />
This time I'm to go to the col (joch in German), called Schollijoch. From there, I descend a series of vertical and horizontal ladders and scramble with the help of iron rungs and ropes and cable down to Scholli glacier. No crevasses. I've been carrying my kahtoola microspikes for this day. There have been many snow fields to cross over the past 5 days, but by kick-stepping and having big 8mm lugs on my Inov-8 x-talon 212 shoes, plus poles, I felt safe to traverse each one without the kahtoolas. The first bit of glacier near the rock wall is quite steep from images I've seen. The Via Valais team don't mention that, but especially being alone and in such a "crux" section of the route (so awkward to go back and find another way out of this area, without it being over 20km), I was comforted having the kahtoolas.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCA5EKn_IEzpgFuYE2pIca5ILc8sKKH2RfRf494WHnnL1QeLTOy0wphYJRO-6n5xHrEwii2G8Uolouk6uBgzbbVhy3ibz7MqJC5LcnwKCAJ6Unx4JHZEpi3mQWe4xPgiXrozG2hY37TC0q/s1600/DSC_0041_3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCA5EKn_IEzpgFuYE2pIca5ILc8sKKH2RfRf494WHnnL1QeLTOy0wphYJRO-6n5xHrEwii2G8Uolouk6uBgzbbVhy3ibz7MqJC5LcnwKCAJ6Unx4JHZEpi3mQWe4xPgiXrozG2hY37TC0q/s640/DSC_0041_3.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another moraine climb towards Schollijoch, blissfully alone except for a marmot.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
On the trail to the summit of the "joch", I was surprised to be alone. I knew two Dutch men had started around 6am, worried for the weather, perhaps. They were going out and back. I started at 8am. At the col/joch, I looked left up to Barrhorn and could see a few outlines of people. To the right was Schollihorn. Last year I'd seen people scramble the first part of this. I was intrigued and there were no storms imminent. I headed up.<br />
<br />
It was quite an easy summit, with just a little scrambling and then a big, broad plateau.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBNRhQMi6yupDlypf2w5hxWLVvgFuWBkEbthqn8R3QBcYuZSSNFy7RGeMKr9pWK1_6fW3NavsZ2W0SXamLRcV6UzhGJZ8bsztshzBnpltvKdg6tCE_m8ZLkzDEKI4zNingcYaJ6NV8DYyH/s1600/DSC_0068_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBNRhQMi6yupDlypf2w5hxWLVvgFuWBkEbthqn8R3QBcYuZSSNFy7RGeMKr9pWK1_6fW3NavsZ2W0SXamLRcV6UzhGJZ8bsztshzBnpltvKdg6tCE_m8ZLkzDEKI4zNingcYaJ6NV8DYyH/s640/DSC_0068_1.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the lip of Schollihorn, 3500m. Brunegghorn left and Bishorn right, behind me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg68I4yQHmW2D6_QTl6I2-iQUiVFYwMZa6CmxXxyIz2T1T3izYF6yYqzYM-dvpm9RRP3VwzQJ4JYsRQIIgmyTK9zZMNnCf4_jWR8A8V5DTgl6Z9oajmIanJCXqUIjQcgxam64gUQKFerzXo/s1600/Capture2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="456" data-original-width="849" height="342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg68I4yQHmW2D6_QTl6I2-iQUiVFYwMZa6CmxXxyIz2T1T3izYF6yYqzYM-dvpm9RRP3VwzQJ4JYsRQIIgmyTK9zZMNnCf4_jWR8A8V5DTgl6Z9oajmIanJCXqUIjQcgxam64gUQKFerzXo/s640/Capture2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Back at the joch, I got out my coveted Hammer gels, which I had been saving for 'emergencies.' I figured a good hit of chocolaty carbs was just what I needed to brave this descent. Last year when I'd glimpsed the edge of this "trail", I'd only been able to hold my camera in front of me. I couldn't even look down. But after the past 5 days of gnarly, exposed terrain, I was almost unfazed. I definitely took my time, but the descent was fine. It was indeed steep stepping onto the glacier and the snow was still glazed over from melt and refreezing overnight. I was very glad for the spikes. Even more so at the far end of the glacier where it becomes thin ice hidden under loose rock. That's like trying to walk on marbles on a marble floor. I don't envy anyone without spikes in that bit.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD7vOw7u3BmVFgUZFzDnhVmC_uACrTViEbQPSlYzCktl1cDFB1FecrOAO8Dxv1n7TtTM9ndfVx_ieuPjbGN9omDjeIqL9GcEzoAtK_JpZUdkJdQFa5kBgk7jrGSQofwv266hu9lcqqUkWe/s1600/DSC_0054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD7vOw7u3BmVFgUZFzDnhVmC_uACrTViEbQPSlYzCktl1cDFB1FecrOAO8Dxv1n7TtTM9ndfVx_ieuPjbGN9omDjeIqL9GcEzoAtK_JpZUdkJdQFa5kBgk7jrGSQofwv266hu9lcqqUkWe/s640/DSC_0054.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The start of the via ferrata at Schollijoch down to the Scholli glacier. I saw this last year and it scared me!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
At the end of the glacier, I stopped for first lunch. The sky still looked good. But then I realised I was still at 3150m! There was a lot of descending in slow terrain still to be done. Fortunately, the grey clouds swirled around, but never developed into anything sinister, as I had a long way down with a lot of exposure.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHUhXlB0zs3gjJZ1nLJwOoxUWukn6oCQMvlwM204dwNUAS2OMl2vVKRIKhiwDuWT-eSoblY_DQnUm1KARVRDwbovQ-onnZeK0-nlQHCrc6Ru9BpvgPEXgV8z5AmjxWh9doJyLoLv4UpMxA/s1600/DSC_0079_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHUhXlB0zs3gjJZ1nLJwOoxUWukn6oCQMvlwM204dwNUAS2OMl2vVKRIKhiwDuWT-eSoblY_DQnUm1KARVRDwbovQ-onnZeK0-nlQHCrc6Ru9BpvgPEXgV8z5AmjxWh9doJyLoLv4UpMxA/s400/DSC_0079_1.JPG" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See the blue ladder way up there?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Overall, I took loads of time, given it was my last day and I could mostly keep an eye on what the clouds were doing around me. But it's definitely a long slow descent with lots of traversing, so I'd caution everyone to watch the clouds in all directions vigilantly.<br />
<br />
I stopped in the shade on the never-ending descent, once I finally got out of the exposed high alpine and just enjoyed my environment - the quiet and solitude. I had luckily found out that the suggested gpx route to Randa (part of the long traverse) was closed due to concerns for landslides coming from a melting glacier above the trail, so I had to descend more directly down into another village. Once at the bottom, I aimed for the only shop - a Denner Express - and bought a giant punnet of raspberries and an icy pole as the Aussies call it (a popsicle-type thing). It was at least 30 degrees. There was no way I was going to run the exposed river valley down to Randa. I wasn't carrying on any further. I sat in the shade and waited for Rolf to come a few hours later, once he was done his own adventure. 6 hours, 18.5km + 1085m - 2260m.<br />
<br />
<b>Take home messages: </b>This is a tough but gorgeous route. The glaciers and moraines are incredible. I would not call it a "sweet single track" route - for that, I'd go to the Dolomites or another region. It demands good weather, a head for heights, alpine experience, and a willingness to turn back in the wrong conditions. A few sections could be re-worked, I think, to make a more runnable route. But if you come to terms with what it is and just go with the flow, accepting all the long traverses that undulate or actually go up before going down, you'll be at peace. If you have the Swiss online mapping system on your phone, you can more readily come up with alternates to your route to make it more enjoyable if the days get too long.<br />
<br />
<b>Gear: </b>The Via Valais website offers some good photos and list of their favourite and suggested gear. Mine included:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Ho5n9sbABquOJCPX2Y0P8ITihBO4-3Mb1nNgBBY7Kft9S88_HAGP-dDp37A348EOeUdlg4REun_fPohprPE0yBIL9oj0gFbB8f2YSK9uJ5b3fedQhF4CJ9cb1E2IPuUoG3u5-7TSTqNi/s1600/DSC_0007_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1404" data-original-width="1600" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Ho5n9sbABquOJCPX2Y0P8ITihBO4-3Mb1nNgBBY7Kft9S88_HAGP-dDp37A348EOeUdlg4REun_fPohprPE0yBIL9oj0gFbB8f2YSK9uJ5b3fedQhF4CJ9cb1E2IPuUoG3u5-7TSTqNi/s400/DSC_0007_1.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pack looked small and felt huge!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Arcteryx 14 litre pack with extra rigged bungies for storing my rain jacket (which then stored my picnic for each day). Several small carabiner-type clips for attaching things to bungies/pack</li>
<li>Montane very light rain/wind jacket with a pair of light Icebreaker gloves in the pocket (gloves never worn - highly unusual heat wave!)</li>
<li>CEP arm warmers (worn one morning for 5 minutes, but used extensively - my pack would rub my back when the water ran low, so I was able to use the arm warmers to create cushioning)</li>
<li>Montane prism gloves (warmer weight in case of cold, inclement weather - not used)</li>
<li>Raidlight super thin rain pants (not used, but glad I had them)</li>
<li>Arcteryx Atom LT hoody (midweight synthetic - the best ever - used in Arctic, dries fast)</li>
<li>Leki poles</li>
<li>10,000mAh battery pack, USB-C cable for phone, AC adapter for USB, Garmin charging cable</li>
<li>Petzl e-lyte (teeny torch for getting to toilet at night without blinding everyone</li>
<li>Sea to Summit eye mask, ear plugs, mini toothbrush and paste, sunscreen, chapstick</li>
<li>Quick dry towel, small soap, nail file, 2 elastic hair ties</li>
<li>Cash (budget 100CHF/day to ensure plenty), passport, bank/credit card, SAC membership card</li>
<li>Delorme Inreach satellite tracker/SOS device</li>
<li>Sea to Summit silk sleeping bag liner (stuffed in bottom of pack - not in a stuff sack of its own)</li>
<li>Fixomul for preventative taping of toes, folding scissors, folding knife, Compeeds (just in case)</li>
<li>single sachets of 2Toms Sport Shield anti-chafe</li>
<li>Mini-Sawyer water filter in a thin Sea to Summit bag</li>
<li>First aid kit (gauze, pads, tape, antihistamine, painkillers, antiseptic solution)</li>
<li>Android phone with Fatmap app, MeteoSwiss app, Swiss Wanderweg map app</li>
<li>Hammer Nutrition protein recovery powder and Race Caps, cinnamon and chia seeds, turmeric</li>
<li>A small paper novel (my token luxury!), a pencil, a few sheets of paper route notes</li>
<li>a real paper Swiss 1:50,000 map of the 2nd half of the route</li>
<li>kahtoola microspikes in a Petzl crampon bag to prevent punctures</li>
<li>A few Ziplocs, reused many times over for snacks/sandwiches each day</li>
<li>Collapsible Perth Trail Series silicone cup (turned out it was only used for my protein mix)</li>
<li>Daily snacks (often a sandwich, peanuts, various bars, dried mango, chocolate covered coffee beans)</li>
<li>Evening hut wear (kept in a compressible Sea to Summit bag with my dry towel and jacket):</li>
<ul>
<li>A clean Odlo sports bra, thin running/tech t-shirt, Montane primino 'boy short' undies, and long johns, clean Injinji socks</li>
</ul>
<li>Daily wear (same for 6 days):</li>
<ul>
<li>CEP 2-in-1 shorts</li>
<li>CEP calf guards</li>
<li>Injinji socks and Dirty Girl gaiters</li>
<li>Inov-8 x-talon 212s</li>
<li>Odlo sports bra</li>
<li>Montane primino shirt (these shirts don't smell - awesome choice for multi-day)</li>
<li>Montane primino 'boy short' undies</li>
<li>Garmin Forerunner 920XT with all stages loaded as courses</li>
<li>Julbo Aerolite "Zebra light" sunglasses (best I've ever owned and won't go back now)</li>
<li>tubie (buff-like product mainly for nose-blowing)</li>
<li>thin headband (worn around my neck a lot to reduce sun, but handy to put over the cap on windy ridges)</li>
<li>white "Udo's Oil" cap</li>
</ul>
</ul>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKH9p-weiXBWyWjIttnwSYpVp7lvq_EsTKR21KoR_bFuzKYkGMqUlcQUKm3YSw1xyoEZADHHBT_HM5lSew9NHn9e2LAJQl7P3jRcOe92cUiMMZJSAg3aQor8S09PnI5A3S24ed6ofX4AHf/s1600/DSC_0104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKH9p-weiXBWyWjIttnwSYpVp7lvq_EsTKR21KoR_bFuzKYkGMqUlcQUKm3YSw1xyoEZADHHBT_HM5lSew9NHn9e2LAJQl7P3jRcOe92cUiMMZJSAg3aQor8S09PnI5A3S24ed6ofX4AHf/s640/DSC_0104.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Last day shady stop. Carrying the flip flops I paid 15CHF for.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Purchased in Zinal:</b><br />
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>shoe powder to try to de-stink my runners (left the rest in hotel)</li>
<li>flip flops so I could walk around town without having to wear my running shoes. I then strapped them to the outside of my pack for the last two days and didn't have to wear the hut "crocs" at Turtmann hut.</li>
</ul>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7OaRbp03RclWSpk6SbJJFZyjvPGjRM5jm0YwdOicbhUdqzhg-gYs1CZcHHlLHdbtKOAJUg0LW0jNsl74wLFDQ5IFNktZp6dVNeCVjPeG5UKb4bU65ypjNmsvSZHX3ydLsnRRg1WPsOcTq/s1600/DSC_0002_3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7OaRbp03RclWSpk6SbJJFZyjvPGjRM5jm0YwdOicbhUdqzhg-gYs1CZcHHlLHdbtKOAJUg0LW0jNsl74wLFDQ5IFNktZp6dVNeCVjPeG5UKb4bU65ypjNmsvSZHX3ydLsnRRg1WPsOcTq/s640/DSC_0002_3.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy traveller on a moraine. Ready to go again!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-33149206114940893952019-07-12T02:17:00.000-07:002019-07-17T07:39:31.244-07:00Fastest Australian Woman Over 100 Miles<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's been nearly a month since I reached 100 miles on the <a href="https://au.srichinmoyraces.org/events/24hour" target="_blank">Campbelltown Athletics track</a> in a time of 15:24:44. The moment it was done, I was content. It wasn't the time I wanted - the time I am fully capable of - but I did the best I could with the situation. I made it to 100 miles in a time I could respect.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipOfM7TOOcNDhyphenhyphenEdsS5i-JaEovnkT6Ui6oql54reysCthIC-UpZQ7245LFiwno5hvMQ7q5E_SMMP-w9ugeBEWPTJ5EjgR0DTG0j-owtDTRGtmXoFelDR0PWBRoemlXNjR-XJw2qbvqU3Bx/s1600/64744334_2287914821264067_6478573302586540032_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="374" data-original-width="373" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipOfM7TOOcNDhyphenhyphenEdsS5i-JaEovnkT6Ui6oql54reysCthIC-UpZQ7245LFiwno5hvMQ7q5E_SMMP-w9ugeBEWPTJ5EjgR0DTG0j-owtDTRGtmXoFelDR0PWBRoemlXNjR-XJw2qbvqU3Bx/s320/64744334_2287914821264067_6478573302586540032_n.jpg" width="319" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">100 mile national record as the 24 hour show goes on</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
But the more days that passed, the more discontented I felt.<br />
<br />
I hold myself to high standards. Because it is there that the challenge is born. The challenge allows me to explore - possibility, unknown. To problem solve. To get scared and humbled by the great big world and then stand myself up and see the world and myself in a new, more open and accepting way.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0H9h33k5lMgVjWmwdouSU1hci72yfEF3pre8uN1aBaF91NER7uIKg1SaUK1cFUg_qmX38W52582J9VZdNs9g2m_1O0NS83fi1Z7bftaQiyI7NRezOoguoze35ltr4Eao4FKC12R0s0GQU/s1600/DSC_0973.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0H9h33k5lMgVjWmwdouSU1hci72yfEF3pre8uN1aBaF91NER7uIKg1SaUK1cFUg_qmX38W52582J9VZdNs9g2m_1O0NS83fi1Z7bftaQiyI7NRezOoguoze35ltr4Eao4FKC12R0s0GQU/s400/DSC_0973.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exploring unknown along a new "grat" (ridge) in Switzerland at 2000m a few days ago</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After my failed 100 mile attempt in April, I learned that my "DOMS" feeling in my glutes and hamstrings was the beginning of high hamstring tendinopathy. The therapy to try to get to Sydney for mid-June was intense. On top of training, there was a zillion isometric exercises, physio, and massage. It wasn't until 8 days before the event that I ticked all the boxes: muscle and tendon strength, flexibility, and neural functioning. I booked flights for me and my crew person.<br />
<br />
Saturday at 9am, I began the first of 402+ laps. By 11am, we had the ice sponge going. It was hot - in winter in Sydney! My fingers pruned up. Had I any expectation of heat, I would have done sauna sessions. I tried not to mentally or physically cook myself, but by 3pm (6 hours), I felt it.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibCQebEyy-dN5BKFK_hrsdOuRu9IomcyLgoV0omwu9WcFk50VQLJZ4cY7IxfnTS0ihEMC811Ha8BfG-Ir3FME2JEx8DBpyUTnoqLkxBMB4L9uCYcA0fxlAJILb0z9dlo-gjCIdkol-ZEdJ/s1600/215A0468_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1518" data-original-width="1600" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibCQebEyy-dN5BKFK_hrsdOuRu9IomcyLgoV0omwu9WcFk50VQLJZ4cY7IxfnTS0ihEMC811Ha8BfG-Ir3FME2JEx8DBpyUTnoqLkxBMB4L9uCYcA0fxlAJILb0z9dlo-gjCIdkol-ZEdJ/s400/215A0468_2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Soaked down. Basting, you might say.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I broke the CAN W50 6hr record again, adding 100m to my April mark (67.659km). One of the two speedy men attempting to make the national 24 hour team pulled out after a very fast 6 hours. JC, my crew guy and friend, called out, "It's cooling down, B!" I wanted so hard to believe him - even for some good ol' placebo effect. But I couldn't feel it. Not with my rising body heat.<br />
<br />
The sun set at 5pm, but it never cooled down as forecast a few days prior. I was hanging out for the 6 degrees. But the clouds rolled in to insulate us and then it started raining! It was misty, so quite welcome to me, but a total pain for JC! I hadn't seen the forecast change and had no marquee for him to protect himself. He stood as a stoic sentinel there for me every single lap, ready with the "<a href="https://www.hammernutrition.com.au/product/perpetuem/" target="_blank">Perp</a> and pears" and anything else I might need. The guy deserves a medal.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEmGpfODOYoKC7J943bJ_xc8GwhZ60TGXnV1K80nP-9anR9kyWqaAdtggklGMrp7gc4DDchJzMh21zGstwz-CSTIj9e_Zi1XkBiLyx-ThbOtLiD4NC1SQdS-P79uqHc3bIainThHGpO6Ti/s1600/215A1468.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEmGpfODOYoKC7J943bJ_xc8GwhZ60TGXnV1K80nP-9anR9kyWqaAdtggklGMrp7gc4DDchJzMh21zGstwz-CSTIj9e_Zi1XkBiLyx-ThbOtLiD4NC1SQdS-P79uqHc3bIainThHGpO6Ti/s640/215A1468.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just after sunset at 5.13pm and the clouds start rolling in - like putting a lid on the saucepan.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I went through 100k at 9:07:13, five minutes faster than the W50 record time I set in April. But I was 3 or 4 minutes behind my goal time - and I had settled into a slower pace. Indeed, my pace from hours 9 through 12 was pretty much my target pace for hours 12 through 15. But I didn't slow any further from 12 through 15.<br />
<br />
At 12 hours, I had 127.909km, bettering my April CAN W50 record by almost 2km. It was a 31 year old record that had been held by Barbara McLeod since 1988. I was roughly 3km behind projections at this point. The hammies and glutes were solid. I think I was just a bit cooked from the heat of the day.<br />
<br />
It was around 11.5 hours that my second issue began. I felt a thick feeling behind my right knee. I thought it was popliteus swelling. I got a few sudden sharp zings of pain - I must have looked like someone shot me with a pellet gun. I stopped to remove my quad guards, expecting to see swelling, but there was none. Removing the quad guards didn't help. I tried removing the calf guards, as well, though the thick feeling was above the knee, not below. No change. I took some ibuprofen and babied the leg to the 100 mile.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirvFQpYVPzNTceIh1HijM4XB7aZqV3LDW1SgE6cf_fLDMpLKtgnI4RB-vlW5eQDqiQjF3KBTGUwJ5Tfbepc6ZBjECk62rRY31pXtpWzuDfKlI4i3t8UsIwubyUDMSTmf9ypeJJ7gnZE5XK/s1600/DSC_0177.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirvFQpYVPzNTceIh1HijM4XB7aZqV3LDW1SgE6cf_fLDMpLKtgnI4RB-vlW5eQDqiQjF3KBTGUwJ5Tfbepc6ZBjECk62rRY31pXtpWzuDfKlI4i3t8UsIwubyUDMSTmf9ypeJJ7gnZE5XK/s320/DSC_0177.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The paratenon that night</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It was frustrating watching the possibility of even a 15:15 100 mile disappear, but the two zings of warning told me I couldn't push it. I didn't even try to "sprint" out the last several laps, as I didn't trust that thick feeling every time I bent the knee.<br />
<br />
When I finished, JC said, "Wow! No wonder you said your leg was sore - the back is all red!" And so it was. It stung in the shower, too, like a sunburn.<br />
<br />
The next day, on a simple 3km recovery walk, in a small national park, I found myself stuck in a gorge, alone, unable to move, with no mobile reception. Guess I shouldn't have left the poles in the car, after all! I couldn't weight bear on the right leg and bend it the slightest bit. A combination of very gentle massage to try to move some fluid out of the spot, plus straight leg pistol squat manoeuvres to climb the boulders, got me out of there.<br />
<br />
The squishy crepitus on the inside of my lower thigh was simultaneously intriguing, disgusting, and worrying.<br />
<br />
I learned the following week that I inflamed the little elastin and collagen sheath-like covering over the semimembranosis (one of the 4 hammy tendons). It's called a paratenon (no, not tendon). It has good blood flow and was expected to recover quickly with a week of rest. It didn't, and needed more help. I'm not normally in a hurry after a big event, but there was an opportunity calling to represent Canada at the 100km Americas Championship at the end of July in Brazil. With some compression, icing and topical anti-inflammatories, I was back up to 3 hour runs after another week. Brazil was on. I had my yellow fever shot.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6M5CKp8NhkK4EVnR03ssxTVVD26LQJGmC1qrDB1PHbrYSQsRZ_3WNKRC05aICUl7u1l-pjUEMqZqvIAW-iZe0v-MyDFP8Ukj1pc4fy0u6r9R_vRszp5fwIBWYDjxr_BftCIooxJvrFLui/s1600/DSC_0181.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6M5CKp8NhkK4EVnR03ssxTVVD26LQJGmC1qrDB1PHbrYSQsRZ_3WNKRC05aICUl7u1l-pjUEMqZqvIAW-iZe0v-MyDFP8Ukj1pc4fy0u6r9R_vRszp5fwIBWYDjxr_BftCIooxJvrFLui/s640/DSC_0181.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gorgeous place to hike and run if you don't have an inflamed leg.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
But then it turned out I was the only North American going. That felt awkwardly weird. I felt like I was going to be gate crashing the Central and South American championships. So Brazil is off.<br />
<br />
I've got an entry to the Eiger Ultra next weekend (101k +6700m), but I'm not altitude or mountain trained properly yet. I'm also not at all convinced my hammies are ready for 15-16 hours straight of running yet. Sounds like a recipe for another burnt dinner ;)</div>
Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-32563678449568232412019-04-17T05:00:00.000-07:002019-04-17T17:24:16.111-07:00The 100 Mile Record Wasn't Painted in a Day (but 3 Canadian records were)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The clouds parted not long after the noon start. It's amazing how hot 20 degrees feels on a 400m track at a 5.15min/k pace. My soaking down with the sponge began.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeF6a7A_v35vSMEFE2ukJsAoEk7Gj5xZPmCww3vFRj9i_hakPBPwwoi6WahuKAV4pEa1oj8db9PlMA5P9bzIrEeBCWlGUp48ALfgfHER8BsKxzehteDFSGeLUGb78PO50QDgdiw12Rh_9A/s1600/P4130009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeF6a7A_v35vSMEFE2ukJsAoEk7Gj5xZPmCww3vFRj9i_hakPBPwwoi6WahuKAV4pEa1oj8db9PlMA5P9bzIrEeBCWlGUp48ALfgfHER8BsKxzehteDFSGeLUGb78PO50QDgdiw12Rh_9A/s640/P4130009.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The tools of the craft for my 'art project' (when asked about the knife, Rolf said it was to end the monotony of crewing)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Less than 1.5 hours in, I had a fatigued DOMS-like feeling in my glutes and high hammies. Runners know the feeling - the day after a big run or gym session and every time your glutes jiggle when you take a step, you feel a little "3-out-of-10" discomfort. That feeling. It was very worrying.<br />
<br />
I ran along, doing some intermittent high butt kicks and hip 'looseners,' and lamented my pre-race internal debate over whether to wear compression on race day. I often find I need to remove quad guards after about 12 hours. But that seriously only takes a few seconds. So, in all my internal debate, I'd ended up forgetting to pack both my calf guards and my quad guards. Stupid. Very stupid. There was no option to put on compression I didn't bring.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUR8t7HHZGYRI3Sb6J7HPB3QpQBB71Vrc-vtY_DxjGJEP6VIqIOMBXpMx2q_eK4xIWCz9CQJ_bImhni96w4Y_pM7julxXhIgvTxjLxJDzFJQ0FH-DPe3B5GCBBzObwAu6ZtHEO8TZ7Vr-5/s1600/P1060452.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUR8t7HHZGYRI3Sb6J7HPB3QpQBB71Vrc-vtY_DxjGJEP6VIqIOMBXpMx2q_eK4xIWCz9CQJ_bImhni96w4Y_pM7julxXhIgvTxjLxJDzFJQ0FH-DPe3B5GCBBzObwAu6ZtHEO8TZ7Vr-5/s640/P1060452.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the great times I didn't forget to take my compression (ADU 100k, January 2018)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Then there was the matter that my new shoes hadn't arrived the week before the event, as expected. I was wearing my favourite performance type Inov-8 f-lite 240s (which they stopped making). I had been hoarding two used pair. Both were over 2 years old. One pair had 160km in them and the other had 180km! My painting was being done with used brushes. Not necessarily bad, but it would remain to be seen if they would hold out.<br />
<br />
The track was busy. 101 entrants in the various events. Lane 1 was for the thirty or so 24 hour runners (my event), with Lane 2 for passing. Lane 3 was for the ten or so 12 hour runners, with marathon runners joining them at 6pm. Lane 4 was their passing lane. Lanes 5 and 6 were for the walkers.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1-ki-yZLT0nPDir5SgWdyEnWwyjwyCHOT4BdWcKy2Q32w2btkpqmHLvyrXCpDvMNiOQl360RIptgZbn0XobK8h-BuUGnktFFkJU5Rg-0SFW5HlOrjA5uXiyjSCRv-QZPZMh1WNxXS-o-R/s1600/P4130014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1-ki-yZLT0nPDir5SgWdyEnWwyjwyCHOT4BdWcKy2Q32w2btkpqmHLvyrXCpDvMNiOQl360RIptgZbn0XobK8h-BuUGnktFFkJU5Rg-0SFW5HlOrjA5uXiyjSCRv-QZPZMh1WNxXS-o-R/s640/P4130014.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The 12hr and 24hr walk and run noon start line (marathon started at 6pm; 6hr race started Sunday at 6am)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
24 hour crew tables set up inside the track on the grass. Other crews were to be outside in Lanes 7 and 8, but the reality was different, as crews darted in and out to Lane 3. Many competitors ran or walked and chatted side by side, leaving faster ones to run the gauntlet of trying to squeeze between the talker on the inside and the inside track rail or trying to squeeze between the two talkers or running to the outside of the pair. That often required going all the way into Lane 3, because the talkers wouldn't always run close to the inside, either. Sure, there was a rule stating we were to run "single file only please unless overtaking." But no one wanted to be the mean police. So I was trying to paint in a crowded room without anyone bumping my elbows. I was doing it, but it was adding to the mental challenges of the art project.<br />
<br />
A few runners had huge crews - with five to eight people even. Some played loud music. The "no smoking, alcohol or pets" rules were broken. At least the dogs were on leads. One crew BBQ'd meat over a gas flame a few times, which I found nauseating to run by every few minutes (not against any rules to make smelly food). The "friends and family" festival feeling seemed to be appreciated by most. For me, a quiet introvert with a tough speedy goal, it was utterly overwhelming. I tried to go into my internal meditative "trance," where I really enjoy looking at the trees, creek, and hillside, watching the clouds, and listening to the birds, but feeling the need to be constantly alert for children, negotiating tight gaps between talking runners, trying to sponge down and fuel up, whilst running relaxed and calm amongst all the loud music and cheering.... it wasn't happening. The system supported the majority, but it was stressful for me.<br />
<br />
I don't blame these conditions on my failed art. They simply were. Most people love the atmosphere of big races - UTMB, Comrades, the New York Marathon. I find those conditions exhausting, as my energy is sucked away by others. I became even more motivated to reach my goals and make this my last track race ever. I could take my easel and run off into the wilderness.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnwMzvVIs-qNOBK4EGw7K7Mr7vidr6ju2XJzv78L6VznJkgBZemyxPUrwdyYtxHm1t5q4if-KmKR2JDTkoFvjVGdGHnv3KlBpNvdvZquJ3G93Z0s5w_4YdjvS5p16ojH9wcjYmlYyE5II/s1600/Capture.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="205" data-original-width="704" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnwMzvVIs-qNOBK4EGw7K7Mr7vidr6ju2XJzv78L6VznJkgBZemyxPUrwdyYtxHm1t5q4if-KmKR2JDTkoFvjVGdGHnv3KlBpNvdvZquJ3G93Z0s5w_4YdjvS5p16ojH9wcjYmlYyE5II/s640/Capture.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These are laugh-out-loud funny for me, that's how introverted I am.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Despite my challenges, I reached 6 hours with 67.531km. A new Canadian W50 6hr record (to be ratified), surpassing Patricia Sommers' 63.443km (set in 2003). I was still right on target for my 100 mile 15 hour world record goal.<br />
<br />
Suddenly just after 6 hours, a giant blob of red paint got dropped on my canvas. Well, I must have dropped it, but I have no idea how. That is to say, my pace dropped about 10 seconds per lap. That's about 25 seconds per km! It was massive and inexplicable to me. I would spend the next 5 hours trying to figure out how to incorporate it into my beautiful painting.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhakbpzLFOKGNik9rbpAM4NumojUt0bX3hA9SfNI084PaWMXa26Wa7Et8avOfNj__TbW3ZnDMzb9bS5i-e4ezG5okDgi9aaBqVVTSh_iQ6r615VaIwTM8YcKE8tju9f_glQdrV3RFOuSw26/s1600/P1040562.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhakbpzLFOKGNik9rbpAM4NumojUt0bX3hA9SfNI084PaWMXa26Wa7Et8avOfNj__TbW3ZnDMzb9bS5i-e4ezG5okDgi9aaBqVVTSh_iQ6r615VaIwTM8YcKE8tju9f_glQdrV3RFOuSw26/s640/P1040562.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Art installation in the vast silence and space on Cirque Peak, Canada, 2016</td></tr>
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Certainly, I still felt the fatigued glutes and high hammies, which still reverberated with every step. My calves and shins were also now a bit achy, which I was guessing had to do with the old shoes. I told Rolf about my feelings of stiffness and he looked surprised, as he said my form still looked really good. I tried some paracetamol to take the edge off - at least it might make coping with everything else easier. And the sun had finally set, which was a relief.<br />
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I settled in for the 100k, my next interim goal. The program said I should be there almost right on 9 hours, but having fallen off pace, it was 9:12:31. Another Canadian W50 record to be ratified (Patricia Sommers, 2004, 10:01:46).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitadDBTmZuP4oVCAjk0MlHq6HzPkHq7yG52LCZIBCwDb9sRTg71-P9sypkTabh6OXrVPEig-fgIxuiWbQDt9z1G27o1Z6fzLrVuY0R39wqEnQ70PK9kPPbOazgpsDZmbVZeEgTTK-d7wHs/s1600/P4130059_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="974" data-original-width="1600" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitadDBTmZuP4oVCAjk0MlHq6HzPkHq7yG52LCZIBCwDb9sRTg71-P9sypkTabh6OXrVPEig-fgIxuiWbQDt9z1G27o1Z6fzLrVuY0R39wqEnQ70PK9kPPbOazgpsDZmbVZeEgTTK-d7wHs/s640/P4130059_2.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Painting a Canadian W50 100km record on the canvas</td></tr>
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I knew from the 6.5 hour mark that the 100 mile world record was gone. I held the possibility of sub 15:15:00, which would still be a time I'd be very, very pleased to achieve, and would earn me back the CAN and AUS 100 mile open records, both of which I used to hold.<br />
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My pace took another tumble with about 10.5 hours on the clock. I'd been able to sit "comfortably" at ~2m18s laps for nearly 4 hours, but suddenly I dropped to 2m30'ish - a 6.15min/k pace! For me, with this level of fitness, at this point in the race, that was bizarrely slow. That was more like my finish pace in a 24 hour race, not at 10.5 hours in.<br />
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Around this time, I had ticked past 108km - the 12hr Canadian W50 record mark (Barbara McLeod, 1988, 108.038km). I realised it a few laps later, as I'd been so focused on trying to understand what was happening to my body.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZtyPbxn_P8jc5wpPDXaVYTgOMoKzi0pwi6MeYWYCnU6vwaEUg3LyiLh7byUlpfBOm8ptyZCvzIVrVN6DvFC_DIe87_-ImSqq55PBeBwkn3E_iNYhH0DKMFvpL0m0dujG9ewNMAUax-ZUs/s1600/barbara.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="744" data-original-width="1600" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZtyPbxn_P8jc5wpPDXaVYTgOMoKzi0pwi6MeYWYCnU6vwaEUg3LyiLh7byUlpfBOm8ptyZCvzIVrVN6DvFC_DIe87_-ImSqq55PBeBwkn3E_iNYhH0DKMFvpL0m0dujG9ewNMAUax-ZUs/s640/barbara.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The internet is a wonderful thing - to be able to find this pioneering woman who took up ultrarunning at 48 years of age.</td></tr>
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<br />
Although it was tempting to stop - just claim the 12 hour record with 110km, I couldn't do it. I felt stiff - like I was on day 3 of a multi-day race - but I wasn't injured. I would honour the 12 hour with the full 12 hours - not stop just because I had another record. I was 95% sure I would call it quits at 12 hours, though. My estimate was it would take me roughly 16 hours to do the 100 miles - if I didn't get drastically slower. That time would still net the W50 age group CAN and AUS records. But I am capable of so much better. That wasn't a painting I'd be proud to hang on my wall.<br />
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But I didn't put the hammer down between 11pm and midnight, because I didn't want to close the door on 100 miles. Not yet. Just in case things changed. In case somehow my body "clicked" and that soreness and stiffness somehow (how?) fell so far into the background that I could run smooth. But that didn't happen.<br />
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So I took my heavy little sandbag in hand at 11hr51, and at the 12 hour whistle, I dropped it to the ground. I carried on to finish the lap. Couldn't get into the women's portaloo, so walked another lap and said my goodbye to the track and a most excellent timing guy, Brett Saxon, and a most excellent RD, Tim Erickson.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvlKWSjAaHc6a6g9jGg06915WH2vweLtVIzsdV1fg2lnQOQW9WYhRORaUI9ishByptmSV1D9JFlPms8upyqGm918adsDxACI1WevFRM9QkIwscKfnU8RfqZ2tmBYjntFF9_blrGK90a0jP/s1600/P4130074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvlKWSjAaHc6a6g9jGg06915WH2vweLtVIzsdV1fg2lnQOQW9WYhRORaUI9ishByptmSV1D9JFlPms8upyqGm918adsDxACI1WevFRM9QkIwscKfnU8RfqZ2tmBYjntFF9_blrGK90a0jP/s640/P4130074.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">12 hour signal - I stop and reach back to drop my little sandbag with my name and number on it for measurement</td></tr>
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<br />
Many months ago, I entered both Coburg 24 hour and Sri Chinmoy (Sydney, June), knowing a world record 100 mile shouldn't be expected to come easy. I will have my compression back on, my new shoes, colder weather, and a quieter track. Perhaps I will try a more reduced mileage in the taper, in case the 50 year old me needs that. Though given that 'DOMS' is usually limited to 48 hours (and I'd been resting pre-race), the feeling I had on race day remains a mystery. I have to assume the strange glute 'fatigue' was the cause of my massive slowing spells. I do recall that my legs kept going numb during the first night in the Jayco trailer bed at the caravan park we stayed in. That was two nights pre-race. I thought it was the wires in the electric blanket, which I removed from the bed Friday night. But maybe the problem is <i>my</i> wiring ;)<br />
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I love running.</div>
Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-71256065298719488992019-04-12T03:10:00.000-07:002019-04-12T03:10:54.383-07:00Art Installation in Place at Coburg 2019<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Over the past 10 years, I have been an ultra runner. That is, I run ultramarathon distances. Sometimes in races, sometimes in training. Sometimes apparently just for the joy of travelling long distances on foot.<br />
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<br />I've explored a range of challenges and adventures. Or, I could say, I have explored my love of ultra running through different mediums. Terrain (sand, road, track, mountain, snow), distance, time, country, culture.... I've run in multi-day and team formats. I've run for national records. I've run for my CAN-AUS countries. I've run for FKTs.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNi8xpWrlwlPBxngLQJG1fkoIQ5l4o9QABbj-B0WAR8DCWlunm-L5HmCGmQfibI_9Ul03H9Dy0Gr0Bu8rePah72TSN5cJLGbWMet4U_GOVRZ306X7UDxEVA-gzaQIgRWw3Hf7RrQzB7r1r/s1600/DSC_1739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="352" data-original-width="1600" height="139" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNi8xpWrlwlPBxngLQJG1fkoIQ5l4o9QABbj-B0WAR8DCWlunm-L5HmCGmQfibI_9Ul03H9Dy0Gr0Bu8rePah72TSN5cJLGbWMet4U_GOVRZ306X7UDxEVA-gzaQIgRWw3Hf7RrQzB7r1r/s640/DSC_1739.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A very special 6.5hr "run" of just 13k return to summit Mt Sneffels, Colorado, 4315m in 2015. Highest reached by foot.</td></tr>
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This exploration has been both a honing of and a continual expression of what I have come to realise is not merely a "sport" for me. It's an art and a craft. Over the years, I've dug deep into research papers, attended training camps, experimented, and listened to the experiences and advice of masters. Every bit of that has helped me learn and refine.<br />
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Art, as "a skill acquired through practice," seems almost synonymous with "craft" (as in "kraft" - force, strength). We use our art and craft to create something - that which may be a vocation, in the traditional sense. The creations that came from those kind of forces were, I think, primarily utilitarian at some point in the past. Clothing, spears, housing, all created by "artisans."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8-99So7uhsUEiyOWymhq7BQByUi46JzsW-T5RV-BS-eJvYf8LCEfYP1SFuvon1AytmyqAsnVx0Zy6BOP8jENlTi257jIY0XKImr4oZUsrKYQR3bXTz3gunVZ2_5oYtqFAHjZbSUS_WqZk/s1600/hurting+at+5h15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8-99So7uhsUEiyOWymhq7BQByUi46JzsW-T5RV-BS-eJvYf8LCEfYP1SFuvon1AytmyqAsnVx0Zy6BOP8jENlTi257jIY0XKImr4oZUsrKYQR3bXTz3gunVZ2_5oYtqFAHjZbSUS_WqZk/s640/hurting+at+5h15.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moe 6hr, 2010. Hot day, pushing for 70k. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder ;)</td></tr>
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Nowadays, we tend to think only of art as paintings, sculptures... things with no utilitarian value. By that, I mean, they are not essential to a human being's survival. Art is created to be appreciated for its beauty or its emotional power alone. But emotional power can support social causes, healing, or political change. Or it can simply be entertainment.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmy5Qa_PUEILDYw80PaKWbsTSem5okUYNSyZ6STQg9Hjsh_WhtMBh-oi_CjSjZPmFcW94HXSaGs3FTZnjhqKX98vsRvaNKpjAiARIdyyQUm97IeYMsfNCUui2gggX5E6jio2VhyphenhyphenYuFcH7R/s1600/DSC_0830.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmy5Qa_PUEILDYw80PaKWbsTSem5okUYNSyZ6STQg9Hjsh_WhtMBh-oi_CjSjZPmFcW94HXSaGs3FTZnjhqKX98vsRvaNKpjAiARIdyyQUm97IeYMsfNCUui2gggX5E6jio2VhyphenhyphenYuFcH7R/s640/DSC_0830.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Avocado sandwich jumpy shot. It's art, man.</td></tr>
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For me, ultra running has no "real" utility. I do not need to travel so far, so fast, at once, for my survival. I have no political or social justice cause I run for. I am not healing a wound or managing an addiction. And I do not do this for entertainment. I am thus left with the fact that ultra running for me is my art and craft. And I do know that I have felt the emotional power of watching other ultra runners. The same goose bumps and watery eyes I've gotten when hearing a particular piece of music. Interesting, that is.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJEd_I6KbB1_LiO5oJqN7RWa2qiDcT8fmrxe7tkmaib26ENMzSopAu-PiaHidR29DQEdNZVkA-TBkSr254s-WfDpCxjm4uk2qmz-TehsUUyNRF19yi6vhY5XpodO0s0LyAc9b6AUqkhOvT/s1600/finish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJEd_I6KbB1_LiO5oJqN7RWa2qiDcT8fmrxe7tkmaib26ENMzSopAu-PiaHidR29DQEdNZVkA-TBkSr254s-WfDpCxjm4uk2qmz-TehsUUyNRF19yi6vhY5XpodO0s0LyAc9b6AUqkhOvT/s320/finish.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coast 2 Kosci, 2013, finish</td></tr>
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Yet, I also have a feeling that the art I create is not outside of me. When my race ends, there might be a finisher's medal or a t-shirt. There will be a time and a distance stamped to that experience. But those are not the art.<br />
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So, do I create the art or does the art create me?<br />
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Perhaps I am creating my masterpiece. And it is me.<br />
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Art installation<a href="https://www.trailsplus.com.au/results-page/c24hr2019/" target="_blank"> live in place</a> on the <a href="http://www.coburg24hr.org/24hr/" target="_blank">Harold Stevens Athletic Track, Coburg</a>, Victoria, April 13-14 2019!</div>
Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-77213709397858304142019-02-10T18:17:00.002-08:002019-02-10T18:17:19.602-08:00IBS: Iron Burn Syndrome<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
No, I'm not mistaken. I know it's supposed to be Irritable Bowel Syndrome. But I've just re-diagnosed myself.<br /><br /> In mid-January 2019 (last month), I was misdiagnosed with "IBS." It turned out - and I discovered this through my own "Dr Google" research - that I had iron-pill (Ferrograd-C) induced gut lining damage. I went from being a gut-mess to being 100% in a matter of a few days. It sounds like some exaggerated story, where I will now launch into my sales pitch on the magic crystals that cured me...which you, too, could have for just $29.99! Nope, this is for-real. And there's nothing for sale.<br /><br /> I share this story because it might help others. But don't read it if you don't want to read words like poo and gas/wind! <div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbmJd3H9Gw9Uq8c5bX-rUqckc3ymQjtobwnGlJuqYw_39s9TKoR9uNqO44GzmzJRrS45GBSDzBiX0VCcN4Sn_hVrMUKl1Fh6rjnXh5UmsACuC46TmSuUAnRCxICj6PMfzL8kfHVxO5s2_h/s1600/DSC_0118.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbmJd3H9Gw9Uq8c5bX-rUqckc3ymQjtobwnGlJuqYw_39s9TKoR9uNqO44GzmzJRrS45GBSDzBiX0VCcN4Sn_hVrMUKl1Fh6rjnXh5UmsACuC46TmSuUAnRCxICj6PMfzL8kfHVxO5s2_h/s640/DSC_0118.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A different kind of wind. 50kph on Prairie Mountain, Alberta, Jan 2019</td></tr>
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At the end of September 2018, I developed bloating (like 4 months pregnant), lots of wind/gas which got worse as each day progressed, often resulting in my sleeping on the sofa. Accompanying symptoms: narrow stools and going to the toilet 4-5x/day for a "number 2". Never constipation. No blood ever seen. No reflux type symptoms until early January, when I oddly started sometimes getting a few hiccups or burps for a few minutes after drinking water when running. <br /><br />I've chronically had slightly low white cell counts, which my sports doc said fits with my athletic level. Though the GP kept hinting "bowel cancer." Recently, on routine bloodwork, I had high ferritin, too, which is not just an iron marker, but an inflammation marker.<br /><br />I had a poo test in November to see if I had giardia or crypto or something - negative.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLrTFM2tWt4gPX8yZHK4NYmZtKMKZKL-v5zbnUUn3cdGmt3JSkkzq1WiEcCavn508JIt6eCmGmPs5zoQpQFJWd-N2ymZ3nViOekJMDPiK86Fn_neegU-ijrzeIPdyMjXdHgw5qOL9Kfyna/s1600/DSC_0218.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLrTFM2tWt4gPX8yZHK4NYmZtKMKZKL-v5zbnUUn3cdGmt3JSkkzq1WiEcCavn508JIt6eCmGmPs5zoQpQFJWd-N2ymZ3nViOekJMDPiK86Fn_neegU-ijrzeIPdyMjXdHgw5qOL9Kfyna/s400/DSC_0218.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pulk-pulling hike February - no FODMAP diet, hooray! </td></tr>
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<br />On December 1st, I had a crazy pain attack in my belly that put me on the floor for an hour. I thought maybe I was just really hungry when I ate and ate too fast, swallowing air. I had the sweats, it was so painful.<br /><br />I tried no spicy food plus the very complicated and restrictive low FODMAP diet at the beginning of December for two weeks, logging all my food. There was no change.<br /><br />In late December, the GP re-did the poo test, as sometimes a bug can get missed. All good. <br /><br />The GP then sent me for an ovary ultrasound (I was sure it wasn't a cyst or similar - the symptoms didn't line up). Ovaries were good. Once they found them underneath the wall of poo in the way of the camera. But they found gallstones. Now, I learned that lots of people have gallstones and never even know. But then I realised what the attack was on Dec 1st! I understand that you can get stones from red blood cell damage, and ultrarunners damage their red blood cells.... so it seems likely to me that it's this type. But I still have to meet with a gallbladder specialist in late March. Anyway, gallstones wouldn't account for my wind and poo regime.<br /><br />In mid-January, the next step was to go for a colonoscopy and gastroscopy. Though I was dreading the liquid laxative stuff I had to drink (3 times!) in preparation, that wasn't so bad. The bad part was the anaesthetist telling me, in my vulnerable, naked-except-for-the-gown, half-delirious fasted state, that it would all be done under "twilight" anaesthetic. I'd be "awake" for the whole thing, she said. Well, that brought out a sudden (but quiet!) swear word and a few tears. Shove a pipe and camera down my throat whilst I'm awake?!? F*cking hell. She promised me she'd increase the sleepy-meds if need be. The last words I heard in the theatre were, "Have a good sleep, B." Right on. Wake me up for lunch.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtVuWLoMu2wQ3ER9c_Hung-ZplBjTXzbxR_13mY_-7EldqHKbObGfp7znO1sgbhPsFOSZ2LCYh7Fc98M9mP-6rMu3tZ0cY9c09hLku7YXSS0hEsoYe7RxtSLKNdgRBig2voHNXF5h7uMIT/s1600/DSC_0031.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtVuWLoMu2wQ3ER9c_Hung-ZplBjTXzbxR_13mY_-7EldqHKbObGfp7znO1sgbhPsFOSZ2LCYh7Fc98M9mP-6rMu3tZ0cY9c09hLku7YXSS0hEsoYe7RxtSLKNdgRBig2voHNXF5h7uMIT/s640/DSC_0031.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wide-eyed look of Wasootch Peak I'm climbing. Better than wide-eyed fear of a gastroscopy while awake!</td></tr>
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No, it wasn't bowel cancer. One tiny polyp was removed (I understand it's the polyps that turn cancerous sometimes - so they just removed it so it couldn't get a chance to go rogue). That little polyp wouldn't have caused my symptoms, either.<br /><br />The findings I got before leaving the hospital, which felt hurried, especially given I was just coming out of my morning snooze:<br /><br />1. "mild reflux oesophagitis" - Inflammation of my oesophagus. The "reflux" part seemed particularly strange, as I didn't get reflux/heartburn at all. The doc at the hospital gave me a script for some meds to take for a month for this "reflux".<br /><br />2. "mild duodenitis" - that's inflammation of my duodenum (my upper small intestine was also inflamed). <br /><br />They tested and excluded Coeliac disease and H pylori bacteria.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvirmMMS5DmYkf9QtNVtjc-XKu1x6MDS8i58e2qEOR9xRW4yG_Agl8QDRfiXNmLNDQPUDXqhQqQp-6N0THKl4pp6H5DaxNgMZxjNgOiM2h519Yh1w5KhFS5_ZyQi0vwsTq7jSxoZISLjX9/s1600/DSC_0055.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvirmMMS5DmYkf9QtNVtjc-XKu1x6MDS8i58e2qEOR9xRW4yG_Agl8QDRfiXNmLNDQPUDXqhQqQp-6N0THKl4pp6H5DaxNgMZxjNgOiM2h519Yh1w5KhFS5_ZyQi0vwsTq7jSxoZISLjX9/s400/DSC_0055.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snowmen never have these problems. </td></tr>
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The result was the doc thinking I had "IBS" and that I should try a low FODMAP diet (I told him I'd already done that though). In addition to the script he gave me for my non-existent reflux, he told me to see a dietitian for FODMAP advice and take something called Mintec before meals and when I get abdominal pain.<br /><br />However, I had to keep telling people, I don't (usually) get abdominal pain. I just looked 4 months pregnant, got increasing wind all day, poo'd a lot (but no pain), and my intestines sometimes 'churned' with the wind thing. I could feel it when laying in bed. Like I had snakes in my belly. But no pain, typically (except for that gallbladder night).<br /><br />Here's where my own detective work came in:<br /><br />I had to go off my 2x daily Ferrograd-C iron pills for a week before the hospital procedures. I noticed that "ironically" my symptoms seemed to be decreasing that week (but didn't connect it to the pills yet). After the procedures, I went back on the pills. Within two days, the symptoms were getting worse again.<br /><br />Sudden aha moment - the ONLY thing that had changed had been the iron pills. <br /><br />Bring in Dr Google. It turns out that not only had I developed two "itis" conditions in my gut from my 7 years of daily Ferrograd-C (iron is almost 'toxic' to the mucous lining of the gut I found out), but I had been taking my iron in a very poor way....right before laying down to sleep and with the tiniest of sips of water. I could often feel the pills in my throat.<br /><br />Cue face-palm slap moment. If others can learn from this story to never take any pills before lying down and always with plenty of water, typing out this long story of poo and wind was worth it :) And really, really try to think outside the box when it comes to gut issues. I'd been on iron pills for 7 years without problems, after all.<br /><br />I've had a happy belly for three weeks now, without iron pills. I never took the reflux meds. I've got to see my sports doc to discuss long-term iron options, but things are good. <br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLIhqxNFwCQakcBZzWZzo2OvAPXcYXSByce7eV23NTOPQzlriTsmivSWm2K6TbVs_th0UfLiQYrQBKaNytjtlq-qjhTfapP3l1bHfACJxPI5mIZXA1FefV2PmQLuvb_7QshUPIEOJU7ttI/s1600/DSC_0127.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLIhqxNFwCQakcBZzWZzo2OvAPXcYXSByce7eV23NTOPQzlriTsmivSWm2K6TbVs_th0UfLiQYrQBKaNytjtlq-qjhTfapP3l1bHfACJxPI5mIZXA1FefV2PmQLuvb_7QshUPIEOJU7ttI/s640/DSC_0127.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cue happy ending. No crystals for sale.</td></tr>
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Endnote: Please don't associate my low iron with my veganism - I've had low iron since years before that part of my health journey began - and back then I even tried upping my red meat intake, cooking in cast iron, adding vitamin-c foods to my iron-rich meals....all to no avail.</div>
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Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-13383265982525462062018-10-13T04:29:00.000-07:002018-10-13T04:44:03.955-07:00Be. Here. Now: The Transalpine Run 2018 Stage Race<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Transalps. TAR. Transalpine Run. The multi-day stage race across the alps. This year it was 7 days, 255km and D+16,200m.<br />
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#lessons.<br />
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There will be lessons, a friend joked, if you run a 7 day team stage race!<br />
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I wasn't going to deny that, though what I really wanted was the opportunity to go back to Transalps, with a female partner, and spend 7 days immersed in teamwork. Getting ourselves - and each other - over the finish line day after day for seven days. Helping each other find the best in ourselves with which to help the team.<br />
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I did this race in 2012, with my "de facto." That is, my partner based on fact, not legal contract ;) Anyway, I digress. Whilst at that time I was a pretty new ultrarunner (just 5 years under my belt, but only 3 with any kind of substance), Rolf was a <i>really</i> new ultrarunner. He was actually a new runner full stop. The race that year was 4 countries over 8 days, 320km D+ 15,000m. It was a beast of an adventure.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn6nTQ6Fqiztv-jVpTEtbxsYaxiOtQ_vtftuUyE170wjxTLuxTpaK0WHGJbFT-6R8Vl5Ig94LaW94gz08zlsv-saTl91RgP1Na-PZ9A7iRWzOWIcP_VnSH_vZLYjqdSDHzGVQ51g4Bbf8-/s1600/sportograf-32872385.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1078" data-original-width="1600" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn6nTQ6Fqiztv-jVpTEtbxsYaxiOtQ_vtftuUyE170wjxTLuxTpaK0WHGJbFT-6R8Vl5Ig94LaW94gz08zlsv-saTl91RgP1Na-PZ9A7iRWzOWIcP_VnSH_vZLYjqdSDHzGVQ51g4Bbf8-/s640/sportograf-32872385.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Very bad shin splints for him. Sleep dep for both of us. First cold sore of my life.</td></tr>
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With my accumulated experience, I was keen to go back and approach the race more competitively. Not as in "compete-against-others," but just race hard. In 2012, Rolf raced hard, but our pace difference was such that I only worked when I chased him downhill :) And that was only until he started to develop compartment syndrome.... I wanted to do it again, but be able to run hard every day. Focus on recovery every night. Repeat. Go into the time warp black hole that is Transalpine Run. Where every moment is a focus on running or recovering from running or preparing for the next run. And if that level of personal - team - competitiveness also saw any podium placings, well, that would be bonus. Because as I always say, you can't control who else shows up and how good their day goes.<br />
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I'd made a few attempts to find a female partner for 2017, connecting with a few women internationally who ran a similar pace. Nothing readily came of it and I admit feeling little motivation to pursue it. There were too many unknowns racing for a week with a stranger from somewhere else in the world. Cultural differences, personality differences, language barriers.... Communication is a critical component to team racing. I'd do better, I reckoned, to have a partner who I knew, even if she wasn't matched for my pace.<br />
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When my running mate Sanja said she was looking for a race in Europe in 2018, I threw it out there. And she was keen. Temperament is also a key element to team success and given that we'd had several running adventures together, we had a decent sense of each other's quirks. I thought ;)<br />
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Sanja was immediately a bit overwhelmed at race pack pickup in Germany, seeing runners go by in their "Lavaredo Ultra Trail" or "Eiger Ultra" t-shirts. She'd never raced in Europe.<br />
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We had a rough start. I felt that Sanja was sabotaging things by not taking beetroot juice, Fully Charged, or caffeine pills - things she'd planned to use. I thought it was her way of giving herself an out, reducing her own expectations on herself, in order to relieve the self-imposed pressure. To top it off, a combination of nerves and fighting illness seemed to put her heart rate very high on Stage 1. She had no experience of trying to back up racing day after day and couldn't be reassured by those of us she talked to who had. She needed to see that her own body could do it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjukxGV0maXdJbzVk-gKr1AvfG2l-NXSWg06AMB8zLCG-Sg_JXaRcrrzT1PmsdP1nUz6yaBc8bSFVhrUeT-4a9mEp4mfIbCcVPlH5114zz-UGZbTlGoHzAPX0JDy4csy11-LYD7fVOHEbEe/s1600/DSC_0862.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjukxGV0maXdJbzVk-gKr1AvfG2l-NXSWg06AMB8zLCG-Sg_JXaRcrrzT1PmsdP1nUz6yaBc8bSFVhrUeT-4a9mEp4mfIbCcVPlH5114zz-UGZbTlGoHzAPX0JDy4csy11-LYD7fVOHEbEe/s640/DSC_0862.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thankfully we kept working together, so we could get ourselves to places like this! Stage 4.</td></tr>
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Our paces weren't matched on the climbs, but even less than I expected. I found myself walking uphill, heart rate less than 100 bpm, whilst Sanja chugged away. I was sending emails and Whatsapp messages. Yup, really.<br />
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On the downhills, we couldn't make up time because Sanja was unnerved by the complete and utter absence of sun-baked red hard ground covered in pea gravel and honky nuts contoured by enormous ruts. That's the treacherous turf in Western Australia. Instead, she had rocks and tree roots. To her eyes, it was "very technical." I had thought we'd be matched - or I'd be chasing Sanja - on the descents. Wrong.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A sample of Sanja on WA's "non-technical" terrain. The defence rests.</td></tr>
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Despite these obstacles, we ran ourselves as a team onto the Masters Women podium for Stage 1 and Stage 2! Though we had never planned to attend the nightly pasta parties unless they were very convenient, we agreed I would attend the nightly race briefings that were held at 7.30pm, after the daily podium ceremonies. Attending the race briefings is mandatory for one team member. I'm an "upholder" type person, so I like to meet expectations (both internal and external ones) and stick to the rules. And I wouldn't have slept well if I missed a briefing, wondering if anything critical was said.<br />
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Indeed, there were times when the course was changed - and the start time, too! Then there were practical reminders. Like don't poo behind the vehicles at aid stations. Okay, maybe I didn't need that one. But some competitors obviously did.<br />
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For day 1, our accommodation was 12km away. Day 2, our accommodation was 300m away, so Sanja came over for the 7pm podium ceremony only. I admit I felt a little less silly having her with me on the podium, but my ultimate goal was for her to best recover for the following day. Making her come to stand on a podium wasn't in the team's best interests.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8e8cnu7zND2HLy1R4vDlYqBwTewITmbXIJohdI3Mn4K_sImoSLu2dbm1FNmLx8kSYC70h1JyoPHU4lAEnQRkd0fegSlmLdBI7odRvGzbUszpxciZFaz2Oueu0TmUsHmRCJTUZ6V96TW2I/s1600/sportograf-136051145.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8e8cnu7zND2HLy1R4vDlYqBwTewITmbXIJohdI3Mn4K_sImoSLu2dbm1FNmLx8kSYC70h1JyoPHU4lAEnQRkd0fegSlmLdBI7odRvGzbUszpxciZFaz2Oueu0TmUsHmRCJTUZ6V96TW2I/s640/sportograf-136051145.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day 3 on 'partial tow' in boggy terrain between 1600-2200m, AUT</td></tr>
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Stage 3 was the longest stage. Made even longer by a landslide that caused a course re-routing. 51km + over 3,100m. I thought 7.5 hours might be possible, but much of the terrain proved to be very boggy. But the day dawned as very hopeful on my part, because I had found out I could tow Sanja. I'd thought it was against the rules and all I could do was carry her pack. But the organisers clarified that towing, pushing, pulling - it was all encouraged as an aspect of team racing - as long as there were no fixed lines between runners (a safety issue). When we hit the first hill at 4k, I put Sanja on tow, using her poles between us. I was relieved to hear she liked the method. Then elated that I could finally get my heart rate up! I felt like we were finally a team, instead of me suffering mentally whilst she suffered physically!<br />
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It was mostly a climbing day, so we didn't have to worry too much about the descending. Still, she found the boggy stuff technical, too. 8 hours 15 minutes. 3rd place for the day again.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLIP_G68UhaNCmVlOUfHo2gcepzPftfZ89EEc0Zsfu2_I0a3w_brkyIiQ6tohnuw7ohRffRD8AaL6xHtlh2Q_sWCleJguBWLm2uZN8WpCSHdAL44REPMDfcb9FgK3sUk-EH10NB6RjgJPp/s1600/DSC_0876.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLIP_G68UhaNCmVlOUfHo2gcepzPftfZ89EEc0Zsfu2_I0a3w_brkyIiQ6tohnuw7ohRffRD8AaL6xHtlh2Q_sWCleJguBWLm2uZN8WpCSHdAL44REPMDfcb9FgK3sUk-EH10NB6RjgJPp/s640/DSC_0876.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day 4 podium in Solden, AUT - 2nd place for that stage.</td></tr>
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Stage 4? I have no idea. In fact, as I wrote this blog post up, I had to keep referring to my daily race profile summaries, my photos, and the website in order to piece it all together! As I talked about the race afterwards to others and as I wrote this post, I found myself conflating experiences and days - mixing them all up. That shows how unreliable our memories are - what we think the "truth" is.<br />
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And Transalps is just the kind of race to exacerbate our subjective storing of memories. You need so much to be in the moment and there's so much "go" that when you get "woah" moments, you sleep. So, looking back, I can see Stage 4 was a "recovery" stage. Haha. Just 28km, starting at a leisurely 9am. Add in 2,300m of climbing. A glacier crossing. High altitude running. A high point of 2,998m, which is reached via a 4km "VK" (vertical kilometre) with 1155m of gain involving via ferrata sections. And then a nonstop quad-crunching descent of 1,800m over just 9km. We finished in 5hr44m, in 2nd place, only 2 minutes behind the 1st place USA girls, and with the German girls only 2 minutes behind us! Since the hotel was just 200m from the finish line, Sanja came over for the podium ceremony for a second time. Another chance for her to show off her special "bronze Berkie - CEP sock" combo.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPQsGOrfCkmXPLpcsAlkxlWc4IummDe_a2Q7HzXcx2RK7VBGt9B2TYRqHBmZ6u_VgB0LltRMyscuNTOvrWK4vutd0JLGjnTrwSRIQZ3sUbRWD8GkDacP5QzU_o4Dv5F0h0ft1FzrwEJTvr/s1600/sportograf-136062214.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPQsGOrfCkmXPLpcsAlkxlWc4IummDe_a2Q7HzXcx2RK7VBGt9B2TYRqHBmZ6u_VgB0LltRMyscuNTOvrWK4vutd0JLGjnTrwSRIQZ3sUbRWD8GkDacP5QzU_o4Dv5F0h0ft1FzrwEJTvr/s640/sportograf-136062214.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stage 4, in the 4km 1100m climb - a short via ferrata section, where towing is impractical and dangerous</td></tr>
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Stage 5. 38.5km + 2220m, over Timmelsjoch (joch is 'yoke' or a pass) from Austria into Italy. They moved the start time from 8am to 7am because of the threat of afternoon thunderstorms, which would be dangerous in the high alpine. I towed for 2.5 hours, from 1346m at the start to the 2,475m high point. We took a quick celebration photo, she let go of the poles, and we began the 9k descent of about 1,100m. It was switch-backed and rocky to start, so I focused on my feet. Glancing back a minute later, I saw Sanja far above. I could give her tips for the downhill, but I couldn't tow her down. I paused. She caught up and said she had no quads. Just as we'd experienced so much on Stage 1 and 2, team after team passed us. I offered some tips, turned, and ran. Then stopped to wait. The German girls passed us. Sanja caught up. I turned and started running a third time. Then I found myself crying. A dry, hoarse sort of crying out of frustration. I felt powerless. I was having a most excellent "sooky la la" moment, as the Aussies say.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time for Whatsapp. (Inside joke regarding tea for quads.)</td></tr>
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Finally, as I saw how useless my behaviour and emotions were - for me and for the team - I regrouped. "Information, choices, and consequences." That's what a rebel apparently needs (Sanja's a rebel type when it comes to meeting expectations). So I calculated that the slow descents would add 30 to 60 minutes to our day and I shared that information. And offered some more descending advice. Sanja made a choice - to push out of her comfort zone and work her alpine descent skills. Woohoo for Team CEP Australia! That's teamwork. We finished, shovelled food in our faces like wild animals at the finish line, had our daily 20 minute massages, and got a shuttle to our hotel 7km north of the village. I did the usual - left Sanja to recover and prep for the following day, whilst I had 3 hours of shuttle buses, pasta party, podium ceremony, and race briefing.<br />
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Stage 6, 6hr15. We won the stage. I rocked the solo podium thing again ;)<br />
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Stage 7, the final stage, 5hr44, 2nd place. And in the final tally of total time, we finished 2nd Masters Women team overall. We'd had some not-so-secret racing (quite friendly, but still competitive) with the "open" Women's 2nd place team over the week. They seemed to get an extra spring in their step whenever we caught them on a stage. I don't think they liked it when the "old lady" (me) caught them - I worked magic on their pace ;)<br />
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In the end, we finished with a total 7 day time faster than theirs, as well. (Quiet fist pump.) So, including all women's teams regardless of age group, we finished behind the open Women's winning team and the German girls in our Masters Women category.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSyG3rbNfiumShdnA_TgSZGmHE6vxJdKJXbmmcd2p6S0uyyUr7oMQcgxHfP0YACT1pAWijVRDBfygReGfuHDB0s8hTDiSlJkqr17aOYIrDHqaYkRjWXUt3vXuSr5C9jwBtMAm80_p4UOaX/s1600/sportograf-136044150.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSyG3rbNfiumShdnA_TgSZGmHE6vxJdKJXbmmcd2p6S0uyyUr7oMQcgxHfP0YACT1pAWijVRDBfygReGfuHDB0s8hTDiSlJkqr17aOYIrDHqaYkRjWXUt3vXuSr5C9jwBtMAm80_p4UOaX/s640/sportograf-136044150.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day 7 - approaching the last summit - before the quad punishing 2000m descent over 11km down to Brixen, ITA</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We ran from Germany to Austria to Italy. I towed all the climbs and some flats, when Sanja was more tired. Occasionally, I felt the benefit of her pushing me from behind when I'd have a brief low. We checked on each other's hydration and fuelling, shared some laughs, and even took photos. We clearly and kindly communicated, for mutual benefit.<br />
<br />
Our days were generally a variation of this:<br />
<br />
5.20am - wake up, pack big duffel bag<br />
5.30am - take duffel bag to lobby of hotel for pickup<br />
5.40am - breakfast, dressing, taping, lubing<br />
6.20am - head to start line (earlier if on shuttle bus)<br />
6.40am - mandatory gear check, final briefing<br />
6.59am - listen to ACDC's Highway to Hell (their start line tradition)<br />
7.00am - run<br />
1.00 or 2.00pm - finish, eat everything (including Hammer recovery powder), find a shower<br />
2.00 or 3.00pm - 20 min massage<br />
3.30-5.30pm - organise for following day, read next day's map, calculate splits, water and fuel needs, eat more avocados and more carbs<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJfCJ8UWH13bOGzgLylGPwpZcdlPoRJ8w8BVnYBrITjETZlEZwoDbIUp7o4-QZbni2eFW5gUJyVkv-8kSZygqpFynWYyOfBPYcnYVRG_E_qPWkFWDGfAGcHgMzOy-mUlmTTfuVAKjJGq5y/s1600/avos.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="345" data-original-width="857" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJfCJ8UWH13bOGzgLylGPwpZcdlPoRJ8w8BVnYBrITjETZlEZwoDbIUp7o4-QZbni2eFW5gUJyVkv-8kSZygqpFynWYyOfBPYcnYVRG_E_qPWkFWDGfAGcHgMzOy-mUlmTTfuVAKjJGq5y/s400/avos.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Avos on pizza, avos with beans and turmeric...avos and avos....</td></tr>
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5.30-8.30pm - I go to pasta party/podium/briefing (Sanja attended Stage 2 and 4 podium only). I send Whatsapp to Sanja with any critical info on next day's stage.<br />
8.00pm - Sanja in bed<br />
9.00-10pm - I return to tiptoe around hotel room, organising, taping toes, etc<br />
10.00pm - I'm in bed<br />
<br />
I can't speak for Sanja, but I did indeed get my challenging team race (and not because she was the only challenging part!) Sure, she did my head in a few times ;) But it was my opportunity to figure out what I could do to help the team. To observe any useless, unhelpful thought patterns or behaviour of my own and figure out how I could make something better of it. To try to mentor a peer through her first European race and her first multi-day race.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaAmUn4CpdI76CE3wN8k_EjbzsLIS6lb4-UkdzsttXaGjBzeTrfDg8PVMKGO1_ETDiVW0ZCC-IOFHl6851V2sRCp4E37GpWNg_u-ZBEHCf04VWnW_-riJNViabkLn894aJtLHn2eKGlZET/s1600/sportograf-136056726.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaAmUn4CpdI76CE3wN8k_EjbzsLIS6lb4-UkdzsttXaGjBzeTrfDg8PVMKGO1_ETDiVW0ZCC-IOFHl6851V2sRCp4E37GpWNg_u-ZBEHCf04VWnW_-riJNViabkLn894aJtLHn2eKGlZET/s640/sportograf-136056726.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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My lessons? Well, perhaps more "reminders" than "lessons." I am never powerless over my own thoughts, views, emotions, and reactions. As a "control freak", it's easy to race solo and only worry about myself. The magic in team racing is working my "control freak" tendencies on myself to find out how I can gain "control" of my monkey mind when it starts writing unhelpful stories. When it writes a black-and-white, doom-and-gloom B grade movie where I'm the victim, I have the power to use "Information, Choices, and Consequences" on myself. What info do I have on this issue/situation, what choices can I make about my thoughts, feelings, actions, opinions, reactions? And what might the consequences be?<br />
<br />
They say in ultrarunning the only certainty is that things will change. That's true for the mind state as well. And the reality is that I have power over that change.<br />
<br />
I'm grateful to Sanja for racing with me.<br />
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Just. Be. Here. Now.<br />
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Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-20036070024855433622018-09-30T20:08:00.002-07:002018-09-30T20:08:39.776-07:00Matterhorn Ultraks: The "Sprint" Ultra<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Given what I often get up to, 49k + 3600m is a sprint, yes!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2FLKtuIK8yKPVa1IQNRhwUFjLGdnOajBCUD_tJkKHtTMgxqBWjI7YeL7UZXiB-2CmxhAfe9oQpLVKfBbb9W_2_EEV9_4C-W4NPwOGZTXY26II_-WXw_zmqHOof9E3AbmQgl6mnwGDWegR/s1600/sportograf-133868873.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2FLKtuIK8yKPVa1IQNRhwUFjLGdnOajBCUD_tJkKHtTMgxqBWjI7YeL7UZXiB-2CmxhAfe9oQpLVKfBbb9W_2_EEV9_4C-W4NPwOGZTXY26II_-WXw_zmqHOof9E3AbmQgl6mnwGDWegR/s640/sportograf-133868873.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The 49km "sprint" started under a blanket of cloud in the Zermatt valley at 7am</td></tr>
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I went into the <a href="http://matterhorn.ultraks.ch/en/" target="_blank">Ultraks Skyrace</a> feeling well-prepared. My recce run of the course over two days in July had shown me where my weaknesses were. A rocky, rooty, steep "get your balls on" descent and a mucky, side-cut sloped section which alternated between very fast runnable to jerky jumps and side steps gave me my skills to work in the five weeks leading in.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0VySNTA3a1d_PHhS7L85TDiYEQtmjdoaf99YZS11Px7Ezff7sKu5qn_bf6tGGFeYunZH8mh_Ot20KOsCbfHldK-Y1cKyEDOwe-mK_DvykOLQAzOIMVijALX4Zil_l5Y6BzL8zGoNfYtcT/s1600/DSC_0834.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0VySNTA3a1d_PHhS7L85TDiYEQtmjdoaf99YZS11Px7Ezff7sKu5qn_bf6tGGFeYunZH8mh_Ot20KOsCbfHldK-Y1cKyEDOwe-mK_DvykOLQAzOIMVijALX4Zil_l5Y6BzL8zGoNfYtcT/s320/DSC_0834.JPG" width="320" /></a>Based on previous race results of other women - plus comparisons with my speed on similar courses - I calculated a 7 hour race. 6 hours 45 minutes if things went really, really well. I wrote a 6hr40 plan, just to help ensure I was pushing myself to do my best. The winning woman would probably run under 6 hours.<br />
<br />
My A goal was to run my best race possible and find out if I could really get my 49 year old me around that course in under 7 hours. And, if so, could I also hold myself within the top 10 women?<br />
<br />
Top 10 was an adjunct goal, since one really can't control who shows up and how well everyone else runs. Unless you employ mafia techniques and that's just not me ... even if I could afford it ;) I had my challenges to intrigue me. And I knew it was a stellar route.<br />
<br />
The race director told me I could go in the elite box up front to start, but on race morning I saw that the elite box (for those "seeking to win" according to organisers) was very small and my allocated "Group A" (for those "aiming to run sub 6hr15"!) was also pretty small. Knowing the first 5km was wide road/gravel road that would give everyone time to spread out, there was no pressure to race at red-line pace from the front to try to avoid a congo-line scenario. And I had no pretences of winning.<br />
<br />
Thus, I happily chose the no-fanfare, no cameras-in-your-face Group A.<br />
<br />
Though I avoided the scrutiny of others before the start, I had plenty of scrutiny from the monkey mind in my head once the gun went off. I started chugging up the shallow incline out of Zermatt and the monkey started up.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Queue monkey mind!</td></tr>
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<i>This is stupid. Why are you doing this? This is hard. There are so many people breathing heavily. We hate heavy breathing noises. It's cloudy. You can't even see the Matterhorn. When you get to a junction, just turn left. Run back down to Zermatt. Go back to bed.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Running with the monkey mind can be very exhausting. Eventually, I shut it up by initiating my "Regret-o-meter." The Regret-o-meter is my handy life tool that helps me decide on actions based on whether or what I'll regret afterwards. I ran the "go-back-to-bed" scenario and Regret-o-meter said, "You'll regret never knowing how fast you could have run around that Matterhorn course. The weather is good for it, you're trained, and you did the maths. You'll never know." So I ran. If nothing else, it was like a maths and science experiment. N of 1.<br />
<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw7Y_ZkJnTAc9PPlHJkNymyuJszIMlSOCHZ0wA7hO958B0yVqznFYsotaU1iCKx5r_Fdz7xphHH9xewY3jVYSyi4S4YnUsa41iNIj15xBpc93CTmJWFdSIpsfce0-29JjhST18W7ahdEck/s1600/sportograf-133861272.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw7Y_ZkJnTAc9PPlHJkNymyuJszIMlSOCHZ0wA7hO958B0yVqznFYsotaU1iCKx5r_Fdz7xphHH9xewY3jVYSyi4S4YnUsa41iNIj15xBpc93CTmJWFdSIpsfce0-29JjhST18W7ahdEck/s640/sportograf-133861272.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The clouds magically cleared at Gornergrat, 3000m, for some insane glacier views.</td></tr>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Being a race in the Skyrunner World Series, the only mandatory gear was a windproof jacket. I still carried a pack with some hydration and all my fuel (Perpetuem and a few gels). Nearly everyone wears a pack in this race. Aid stations could be over 2 hours apart. I carried my phone, as well, which was recommended. That turned out to be very handy, as I could get Whatsapp messages from Rolf telling me what position I was in after every aid station timing mat. Though once I knew I was 9th, it was pretty easy to keep track of whether I was overtaken by or whether I passed any other girls. I had a brief back-and-forth with one girl who tried to pass at Aid 1, but couldn't hold it on the next descent. Then it was 9th all the way to the last aid station.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir4UTJxbJFa-qM_WkxihAWFc6W72hKUu3rF_oYTyILpIHmj-yeOatBQd3iebU0i7jilLdij2v2kt0jK1P57IKCFyQlO35prbyc8a3Q9vd5tOFQkmfXbKJBVZ8AqEcVL766YuqizEzIic5o/s1600/Capture.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="708" data-original-width="566" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir4UTJxbJFa-qM_WkxihAWFc6W72hKUu3rF_oYTyILpIHmj-yeOatBQd3iebU0i7jilLdij2v2kt0jK1P57IKCFyQlO35prbyc8a3Q9vd5tOFQkmfXbKJBVZ8AqEcVL766YuqizEzIic5o/s400/Capture.JPG" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Representing the 1960s on the Ultraks podium!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I wondered whether I was fading more than others and would be passed like I was standing still in the last 7k. Sure enough, I was passed, but only once! Laia Canes (ESP W30), who was 2nd at World Trail championships this year, came charging through just after the last aid station. I'd see her early on - at the 7k point - leaning against a tree, looking winded and disappointed, like her race was over. Now, she came charging past, looking strong. I cheered her on - she was crushing the finish. She had made up over 20 minutes from her long stop near Aid 1 I later saw. Just the mental fortitude to come back after being so far back is something to tip my hat to. Un chapeau, Laia.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
In front of Laia and I was another girl (Barbara Trunkelj, SLO, W1, running for Salomon). She had lost the spring in her step. In the matter of a minute or two, I went from 9th to 10th and back to 9th as we both passed Barbara. I thought I saw another girl further in front and gave chase, but she saw me and found another gear. Turned out, after perusing results later, "she" was a "he!" </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I finished in 6hr50.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I typically say I don't do races more than once, but this race was incredible. Despite massive vert over such a short distance, the terrain is very runnable. The views are insane and it's brilliantly organised. And the bonus is that a body recovers so much faster from a "sprint ultra" than a long one.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I might have to see how fast a 50 year old me could run around the Zermatt/Matterhorn loop next year :)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjzZ2yDjEbSCmf4PgCCUi0XE5ExmsWkPLYQ3hZSv46VQpKQv6mMIOy6hARSajG8t8GG3Ui9NXNLvcrISPwd1iPxqTExnBFU_pQlTJzPbTmJx0H29vf7TNI9VVv2ZZDl-u3Kja1KHpECB9K/s1600/sportograf-133854369.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="562" data-original-width="800" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjzZ2yDjEbSCmf4PgCCUi0XE5ExmsWkPLYQ3hZSv46VQpKQv6mMIOy6hARSajG8t8GG3Ui9NXNLvcrISPwd1iPxqTExnBFU_pQlTJzPbTmJx0H29vf7TNI9VVv2ZZDl-u3Kja1KHpECB9K/s640/sportograf-133854369.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Top 10 women</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
</div>
Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-20313584276643459632018-08-22T12:26:00.002-07:002018-09-16T11:21:33.454-07:00The Godmother: 10 Years in Western Australia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I don’t know who first used the term. Maybe it was Shaun Kaesler, an ultrarunner and race director of several ultramarathon events in Western Australia. I have become known as the godmother of trail and ultrarunning in WA. Shaun even notarised it a few months ago via a lovely “valour” award for 2018 at his Lighthorse Ultra – for service to ultrarunning in WA.<br />
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<br />
As I write this, I’m on a mountain top at 2,300 metres in Switzerland, and there are just 3 days before I race the 49km+3600m <a href="http://matterhorn.ultraks.ch/en/" target="_blank">Matterhorn Ultraks</a> Sky race. I’m 49 years old, so I’m in the W40-49 age group. Barely. Two more wrinkles and I'm into W50 ;) I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be W50 so much until now!<br />
<br />
Though this race is definitely too short for me to obtain a top rank, it’s a race that really interested me. Two of my key principles for life are "Least Regret" and "Rush: Perishable" (these human bodies don't last forever). I don’t get motivated choosing races based on whether I might win. I choose primarily by whether I feel there to be a personal challenge - a feeling that the race is a journey of some sort. This race has so much character, the course has flow (even when it’s straight up!), and the Zermatt area is absolutely stellar. I’ll certainly race (<a href="http://mut.livetrail.net/" target="_blank">live tracking link</a>) to the best of my ability, that’s for sure. Bring on “near puke” running for 7 hours – I’m in!
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT0W7cHENp53LUSFu9bmAgTnRNNt9tiSP4FN9KCAmV8bvaLHq6qpVcK9SI_IoihSzA2FsBl39NA69gsjddys2me_7R1jPcaxt-qFSIIfhUK1IHJ-Tu3HNfNB3mWc3s4btIGKasBGhr-5PM/s1600/GOPR1125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="763" data-original-width="1200" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT0W7cHENp53LUSFu9bmAgTnRNNt9tiSP4FN9KCAmV8bvaLHq6qpVcK9SI_IoihSzA2FsBl39NA69gsjddys2me_7R1jPcaxt-qFSIIfhUK1IHJ-Tu3HNfNB3mWc3s4btIGKasBGhr-5PM/s640/GOPR1125.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Recce run in July - selfie at Gornergrat (3130m) - 16km point of the Ultraks Sky race</td></tr>
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Thinking about being 49 and chasing “kids” up mountains got me thinking about my “godmother” (not grandmother, I have to remember!) moniker. My 10 year anniversary in WA corresponds pretty closely to my number of years racing ultras, as well. Naturally, pioneers like to reminisce about the old days (good or otherwise).<br />
<br />
So, with that in mind, pull up a rocking chair and I’ll spin a yarn or two….<br />
<br />
I landed in Perth, the most geographically remote city in the world, on the last day of May 2008, as the recipient of an international PhD scholarship. I knew no one.<br />
<br />
I remember trail and ultra running in WA when…<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic6BotPkQku4VEvFu7H7sFTO94s7sRiIBVOB6CisYuoEAznoKTDzbdzc8q2993894t331U2jOqeE0LyOUvK704qcHm_6xOLzgwLjpP9AkGylnRImTBzSiZT6kXEv02oubFfWI4O9tAbXqf/s1600/finish+line+dec+2008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic6BotPkQku4VEvFu7H7sFTO94s7sRiIBVOB6CisYuoEAznoKTDzbdzc8q2993894t331U2jOqeE0LyOUvK704qcHm_6xOLzgwLjpP9AkGylnRImTBzSiZT6kXEv02oubFfWI4O9tAbXqf/s400/finish+line+dec+2008.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">6 Inch Trail Marathon finish - December 2008</td></tr>
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<li>WA had one official ultramarathon – the WAMC 40 Miler. It ran out-and-back 4 times over a 16km stretch of wide, pretty flat, railway-grade gravel trail. Most of the runners of that event seemed to be in training for the Comrades road ultra in South Africa. I’d never even heard of Comrades until I moved to WA. And no one in WA had ever heard of the Western States 100 miler.</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>6 Inch Trail Marathon in 2008 (fatass) and 2009 had 20 starters at each. Two rubbish bins with a tie-down strap formed the finish line.</li>
</ul>
<div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>My first solo bush run was July 2008, after I bought myself a $750 car. I drew a mud map on paper and went to suss out the “King of the Mountain” course in the Helena Valley. I had been very excited when I’d heard about the upcoming 16km trail race. I was thrilled to find it involved a river crossing, but left disappointed at the fact that I was running along a pipeline-access gravel road in a valley. There were so many hills around. Why wasn’t anyone running them??</li>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6zZJ93LqK9wfQ-f5Ka2iMKmLIdqKQG7QDDAAqKFVZY4nxOaHGarjhMQgHwgx1A2Mv4Ki7A_8yWb_5H9zkfazEfl0U_l8cHOa_kvJKAUYlKSqrTG8jNZSXqugYuEh9ELfuYdtYYhEJ0zpF/s1600/january+25+kings+p+run+15k+view+from+tower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6zZJ93LqK9wfQ-f5Ka2iMKmLIdqKQG7QDDAAqKFVZY4nxOaHGarjhMQgHwgx1A2Mv4Ki7A_8yWb_5H9zkfazEfl0U_l8cHOa_kvJKAUYlKSqrTG8jNZSXqugYuEh9ELfuYdtYYhEJ0zpF/s400/january+25+kings+p+run+15k+view+from+tower.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Australia Day Kings Park run Jan 2009 - no packs (except me)</td></tr>
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<li>There was no place in Perth called The Running Centre. Or The Running Warehouse.</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>I joined a large group of runners for my first Australia Day, January 2009, to run in Kings Park. I was the only one who wore a hydration pack. We ran from water fountain to water fountain.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFuY-l3WeT3Ex2kE6p2kae9G2ma9xV9X7yDYNvZQy1sY-1B8pCS0cL68SJ-vQO4Lm_tgDQKnWLvNqzrczvqRgBXHU762LUqi7dt2XKGXq8saI8klznOlRBmKbhqH_IND2GqskkOpeugMMK/s1600/stirlings+021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="515" data-original-width="345" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFuY-l3WeT3Ex2kE6p2kae9G2ma9xV9X7yDYNvZQy1sY-1B8pCS0cL68SJ-vQO4Lm_tgDQKnWLvNqzrczvqRgBXHU762LUqi7dt2XKGXq8saI8klznOlRBmKbhqH_IND2GqskkOpeugMMK/s320/stirlings+021.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Garmin arm workout</td></tr>
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</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>The Running Centre opened, but they didn’t sell trail- and ultra-specific gear. How could they, when the market comprised 20 people?</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>No one knew what Clif Bloks, Sharkies, Honey Stingers, or GU chomps were, nor trail running gaiters. I would pay $75 in shipping to get several months of running fuel sent from North America.</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>I took people to Wungong for the first time January 2009 and they said, “I can’t believe it took a Canadian to show us this place” and “8.43 pace?!?”</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>In September 2009, Dave Kennedy hosted the fatass “Waterous 100 mile” race. There were two entrants, Dave and Rob. I went to pace Rob. The funniest moment was when Rob’s wife, Sue, asked before the start, “Where’s everyone else?” and Rob told her there <i>was</i> no one else.
</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>I had a Vodaphone SIM in a flip phone that was essentially useless in the bush.</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>I ran with a huge Garmin Forerunner 101 on my bicep that used AAA batteries and could not be connected to a computer to upload or download anything. I found my way using the breadcrumb trail, making pencil and paper drawings on the fly, and by leaving cryptic markings at junctions in case I found myself having run in a circle!</li>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHLiiGXkOggB6S8sq5dcfHddZCYXBKMNvf4JjnWYeeyhpg0uT6nEQtO10USk-WERY3Le3mVZxIT6iMIEh-eotFgZYh0VxJCw_P7HljlYiX2kyKiZizzcIV_CS5lU0ljpvRZ3BS7x2WXBqK/s1600/waterous+start+sept+2009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHLiiGXkOggB6S8sq5dcfHddZCYXBKMNvf4JjnWYeeyhpg0uT6nEQtO10USk-WERY3Le3mVZxIT6iMIEh-eotFgZYh0VxJCw_P7HljlYiX2kyKiZizzcIV_CS5lU0ljpvRZ3BS7x2WXBqK/s400/waterous+start+sept+2009.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waterous (aka WTF) 100 miler start - Sept 2009</td></tr>
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<li>I created the Perth Trail Series and one of the first items of swag was “tubies” (a Buff-like tube of fabric). I told people this was going to be the most amazing item of running kit they never knew they needed so badly until they had one.</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Perth Trail Series held the first event in mid-January 2012. I originally thought it would be a series of 5 short (8 - 19km) trail races run over the summer months and that it would go into dormancy for nine months each year. A primary goal was to give people a means to get into the sport of trail running (without having to do a 46km race as their entry point!) and "create" ultra runners in the process. I anticipated having a different volunteer race director running each event. I’d oversee the whole thing. I quickly realised it was going to be much harder “herding cats” than simply being the sole cat.</li>
</ul>
<br />
I remember when I could name every trail and ultrarunner in WA on my 10 fingers. It’s bittersweet that I can’t name even 1 out of 10 who cross the finish line at a trail running event now. But as long as the ethos is in all of us, we’re all still trail family. Keep looking after each other out there, WA, I've just got the matter of a <a href="https://transalpine-run.com/" target="_blank">7 day stage race</a> to attend to after Matterhorn and I'll be back! Well, there might also be a <a href="http://www.kirens-cn.com/" target="_blank">quick trip to China</a> in October....<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2sq_rXdh9yaXSacsd6nCbcbshplHSevEO6ZP9rNvZgoLiuarBDpuzQ8S3QbZRhcxAQSEfu-9-ONOJ6cexstqfbGRIarj6Vi7N0ilaoDLTKIIgd0xPbdgDCpeKzan7vOkl5fvL-Va4XI-K/s1600/_M185951+copia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1077" data-original-width="1600" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2sq_rXdh9yaXSacsd6nCbcbshplHSevEO6ZP9rNvZgoLiuarBDpuzQ8S3QbZRhcxAQSEfu-9-ONOJ6cexstqfbGRIarj6Vi7N0ilaoDLTKIIgd0xPbdgDCpeKzan7vOkl5fvL-Va4XI-K/s640/_M185951+copia.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Running with some of the extended trail family in Tenerife in June</td></tr>
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Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-84067513535268907772018-06-18T09:29:00.001-07:002018-06-18T09:29:08.878-07:00B is for Beast (Animal): The Mágica Tenerife Bluetrail<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This was my first Spanish race. I've raced in other countries with Spanish competitors and spectators and the one word I heard was "Bravo!" (or "Brava!" for the feminine). Which means brave or good or courageous. But what I found out running in the Canary Islands, an autonomous region of Spain, was that a far more popular word of encouragement on the trails is "Animal!" This is Spanish for... yes, you guessed it, animal. But it's also Spanish for beast! The important thing is to get your Spanish pronounciation right - ah-nee-mahl!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH00BHoDw2sCeppUrIGvqiKA2DpcnEEz19dGUlRX4VDTjXtMJhmsa0_-pn6FzCNrO8wuyzBdmtZOaDuZ6tH7GP5mmjOCQpOeuK655VBQ-bZhs_D2FR3JSoSG-3mN6cAil2vZNTgJuzh5Zn/s1600/bluetrail2018-15172.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1279" data-original-width="1600" height="511" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH00BHoDw2sCeppUrIGvqiKA2DpcnEEz19dGUlRX4VDTjXtMJhmsa0_-pn6FzCNrO8wuyzBdmtZOaDuZ6tH7GP5mmjOCQpOeuK655VBQ-bZhs_D2FR3JSoSG-3mN6cAil2vZNTgJuzh5Zn/s640/bluetrail2018-15172.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy Animal, somewhat bewildered that I actually did it!</td></tr>
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My nickname in Australia is "B" (they tried Berni and I had to nip that in the bud by giving them another option). One running friend decided that "B is for Beast." Well, the Spanish agree :) I must have been called a beast 100 times over the 17 hours and 55 minutes I was out on that 102k course, with its 6800m of climbing.</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBIr_9f2S4f_WnIpuDCyfq4s5ndo7Uehx85avjJYrizQ8lLM9dcaP3tw5sct1VrWYo3Wh1HF6SXQebBuasijEe6dZCsV4cwchoSmAPRiKJBnvSEsKrR_8ihMshUoBeyQU-S96bu4_c9Qns/s1600/DSC_0045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBIr_9f2S4f_WnIpuDCyfq4s5ndo7Uehx85avjJYrizQ8lLM9dcaP3tw5sct1VrWYo3Wh1HF6SXQebBuasijEe6dZCsV4cwchoSmAPRiKJBnvSEsKrR_8ihMshUoBeyQU-S96bu4_c9Qns/s320/DSC_0045.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Go up 60k, go down 40k. Roughly.</td></tr>
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Going into the event, I had beastly training, managing to tally 150-200km weeks with up to 9000m of ascent. And I did it all in the Perth hills! Unfortunately, the stress of preparing to go abroad for 4 months left me frazzled at the end of May. I arrived in Tenerife, one week before race day, feeling burnt out. The idea of a race sounded awful. I couldn't even begin to convince myself I was looking forward to it. I wasn't. My mental batteries were low. My race sheets for fueling and crewing weren't done. This animal needed a hibernation.</div>
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<div>
It was time to pull out the "Fake it Til You Make it" and "Act as if" mantras. I kept remembering back to when I had first found the race online - a race that ran almost all uphill for 60km, to the top of a volcano! A journey from sea to sea, from the south of the biggest Canary Island to the north, from beach to pine forest to Spain's highest point (Pico Teide) down to rainforest and then to the sea in the north.<br />
<br />
I simply kept going through the motions of preparing. There was no passion, only practicality. But I held space for movement, for change to happen. I acknowledged and accepted my current feelings of stress and lack of interest in racing come Friday night, but didn't let the feelings dictate the future. Ultrarunners know the adage that things change during a race. Well, I knew things could change before a race, too :)</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNcva1dw8v2tYRTKcXfg7P2YZHVXOj5d6tV413UNr9mMjq0_ZX94bjAdn3LIAv3W0t8smkP1fcwNiB2P5ADWA0y6EhMGV3_9f4kWbtpxCX_Z8Q-UP2KNk78bpIMgt72cj9Da7iCT6E7KsA/s1600/DSC_0038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNcva1dw8v2tYRTKcXfg7P2YZHVXOj5d6tV413UNr9mMjq0_ZX94bjAdn3LIAv3W0t8smkP1fcwNiB2P5ADWA0y6EhMGV3_9f4kWbtpxCX_Z8Q-UP2KNk78bpIMgt72cj9Da7iCT6E7KsA/s320/DSC_0038.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Animals like bananas.</td></tr>
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Thursday morning we drove to the capital city to collect my bib. I was hoping to slip through without attention, and purposefully had left my "daggy" adventure clothes on, as we'd stayed at the volcano hut at 3250m the night before. I reckoned by going in all smelly and grungy, I'd encourage myself to bolt through quickly.</div>
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It didn't work. I was greeted warmly and enthusiastically and asked to do an interview. Well, at least I had a a clean Bluetrail race shirt in my swag bag!</div>
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<div>
Thankfully, Friday was a pretty quiet day and I was feeling at least a bit of enthusiasm for the 11.30pm start. So, to the pounding of drummers and the beachside fireworks (everyone knows bears don't like loud noises!), we took off at a frantic pace along the promenade. One guy dropped his mobile phone and when another tried to pick it up, it just about became a game of human dominoes.</div>
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<div>
I passed a few girls, but had no idea of my position. Though it didn't really matter, as I knew it was at least a 15 3/4 hour race for me and there was no point trying to chase or outrun any other "beast" this soon.</div>
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<div>
The temperature was mild (~20C) but with humidity (~84%) it was fierce. My face was red and dripping sweat. My watery eyes were at an all time personal best. We climbed into the cloud and mist layer at an altitude of about 700m. There's a Star Wars 'warp speed' effect with a headlamp on in mist. At times, we'd all have to pause at junctions to try to search ahead for a flag, the air was that densely whited-out. My nose was running so much I gave up wiping it and just let it run down to the ground. Animals don't care about snotty noses.</div>
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<div>
I passed a girl on a climb and she gave chase. It made her breathe heavily though. Too heavily. She made a distinct effort to look at my bib. She let me go but caught me on a short flat. At the next rise, I created a gap again. We did that a few times, but on a sustained climb, I was ahead for good. She remained in my mind. She seemed strong on the flats and downs and the last 40km of the race are mostly downhill. That's where I was really going to have to work, I figured, to hold whatever position I had.</div>
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<div>
I met Rolf at the third checkpoint, Ifonche. My ETA was 3hr15 and it was 3hr08. Rolf told me I was third. He asked if I was having fun and I said, "I'm not sure." With the initial crowds running at a silly furious pace and then climbing into a cloud, running on rocky technical ground with watery eyes and a snot nose, it was hard to say if I could call it fun. But it was an adventure. That much I could say! I had enough experience of the island to know there was every expectation we would be poking out through the top of the cloud band at some point and it would be lovely. And the crowds would continue to spread out over time as people settled in to their own paces.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg74RNlbYcLoXqn7dqYaJfBNnqnMHJmnZCkULChQhDTWEGOxMpzg81ag9fzV3F7Q3vFLAGUjVZVgTMedfBUUbowJkR65t39wglkxfTL50w0tClTgDJOCqvXHGBuhwLm1ncIQkB_ytdQXc16/s1600/about+to+climb+Teide+volcano.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="609" data-original-width="800" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg74RNlbYcLoXqn7dqYaJfBNnqnMHJmnZCkULChQhDTWEGOxMpzg81ag9fzV3F7Q3vFLAGUjVZVgTMedfBUUbowJkR65t39wglkxfTL50w0tClTgDJOCqvXHGBuhwLm1ncIQkB_ytdQXc16/s400/about+to+climb+Teide+volcano.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt Teide behind me - leaving Parador Hotel for the summit</td></tr>
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I came in to Vilaflor at 4hr57, 15 minutes ahead of estimates. Six more scoops of Perpetuem with a scoop of Fully Charged (love that taste combo), some water, and I was off. Definitely in my happy place.</div>
<div>
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<div>
Rolf drove the narrow mountain roads in the dark up to the Parador Hotel (~2100m) in the big caldera below Mt Teide to wait for me and sunrise. Sunrise was stunning. I was well above the puffy white cloud layer. The sun came up near Gran Canaria island off to my right. The sky slowly lit up pink and the hills to my left became more defined silhouettes. The ground in that section was crushed stone and black. I came around the corner to my first view of Teide and began the descent into Parador. 8hr02min on the clock. Still 15 minutes ahead of schedule, but I figured I would lose time on my overly optimistic projections for the high altitude stuff to come - up the volcano to 3,555m. Suncreen, more Perpetuem and Fully Charged, pack the headlamp and pick up sunglasses.</div>
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<div>
Rolf told me I was still in 3rd place. I expected it was two younger girls up front and was happy I was probably 1st veteran (40-49yrs). Rolf seemed more optimistic than me about my abilities, as he was focussed on the gap between me and 2nd place (just 25 minutes, he said). I was more concerned about who was chasing me down! I asked for some "intel" on how far back the next girl was and ran for the volcano.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHXLn03anEFXgpsSi7jGM_69yjN4qrWISMpysQv7k4vBGlPRzAuuXWEl06LLy7daSko9THWTiq-OF7fPaqJpmkspHo8MKMFOfEiVYBbA_8Riyha9uOUgAa6mKIp5Ythu3AtPdY_0FTkuN0/s1600/_M186300+copia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1077" data-original-width="1600" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHXLn03anEFXgpsSi7jGM_69yjN4qrWISMpysQv7k4vBGlPRzAuuXWEl06LLy7daSko9THWTiq-OF7fPaqJpmkspHo8MKMFOfEiVYBbA_8Riyha9uOUgAa6mKIp5Ythu3AtPdY_0FTkuN0/s640/_M186300+copia.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the summit area</td></tr>
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<div>
My lack of altitude training (two measly days) showed. The only animal I think I was emulating was sloth. I struggled to take in food. 10hr50min total lapsed to reach the highest point of the race. That 10k took 2hr50! The slowest 10k of my life, that's for sure! But I was only 10 minutes behind projections. (And I was just 3 minutes slower than the 2nd place girl over that 10k, I found out later - so much for my altitude training excuses.) The checkpoint staff offered me a chair, food, and hot broth (it was freezing in the 40kph+ wind up there), but I said no thanks. You don't finish a race by sitting down. The sooner I got moving, the more likely I'd stay in front of any approaching girls. And the sooner I'd be down to a more reasonable altitude where I might be able to digest food better. Just a marathon to go. Next section was 13.6k+98m-1743m!</div>
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<br /></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihm_UMgLTcCowb9QJWTqaDHdnRqt88mWMKS7puxnqvVodTJNbIPRnt_hTqvZAZ1jPaa7D73yhRvyn8dV9ne-h7oChWbndxHSGURU92dm9RZQzT6kMAliPsjALJZxdKn94g7lkaNRIqosjg/s1600/bluetrail2018-2208.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihm_UMgLTcCowb9QJWTqaDHdnRqt88mWMKS7puxnqvVodTJNbIPRnt_hTqvZAZ1jPaa7D73yhRvyn8dV9ne-h7oChWbndxHSGURU92dm9RZQzT6kMAliPsjALJZxdKn94g7lkaNRIqosjg/s640/bluetrail2018-2208.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the other side of Pico Teide, short gentle-graded section, heading in to Recibo Quemado. </td></tr>
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<br />
The boys started passing me on the descent. I realised I was in a bit of a "lazy" unenergised state of mind and body. When the next boy passed, I was determined to allow as little gap as possible to open up between us. I needed to push myself out of my comfort zone more in the crazy technical rocks. I was pleased with my pace pick-up but still came into the next checkpoint, with Rolf waiting, having 12hr55min on the clock. I was now 55 minutes off projections. Only half surprising, as I'd recce'd the top bit of this section when I stayed at the volcano hut and it was way too technical for me to run the projected 6min/k pace I'd forecast. The last bit of this section had seen a transition from basalt/lava rock to pine forest. It was lovely - the smell of pine is always "Canada" to me and incredibly comforting. The aid station was in a beautiful location. And they had watermelon, which I tried to use to help reset my slight nausea. Rolf told me I'd lost a bit more time on 2nd place, which didn't interest me. I knew I was unlikely to catch a girl on a descent and far more likely to be overtaken by one coming up from 4th place.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiid3xWnBbguifJj-3Bbt_bZD4wG4cVwF2nRR374XJUqyx961-JivX1JJgjA-L1c_d3Q849bAXtd6-Qs2EPNakUoXRbNVBG5m11PlwdB7-YXJIOx7fNCglFwfFt-xubOoHWr2D8CXNDi38h/s1600/bluetrail2018-5561.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1417" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiid3xWnBbguifJj-3Bbt_bZD4wG4cVwF2nRR374XJUqyx961-JivX1JJgjA-L1c_d3Q849bAXtd6-Qs2EPNakUoXRbNVBG5m11PlwdB7-YXJIOx7fNCglFwfFt-xubOoHWr2D8CXNDi38h/s400/bluetrail2018-5561.jpg" width="353" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Overly cautious beast with quivering quads.</td></tr>
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From Recibo Quemado to the Base del Asomadero continued to be dramatic downhill. 12.4k+396m-1811m. Almost right after leaving the heat of the pine forest aid station, where I had been sprayed down with water and sunscreen, I ran down into the cloud layer. It started drizzling. And then I hit the rainforest. The steep clay/mud was treacherous and I had no quads and no beast mode, despite all the encouragement from any passing spectator. <a href="https://youtu.be/C0i__oyAX_w" target="_blank">This video</a> shows green-bib racers (20k event), who I think were just 2km into their race. With fresh legs, they were having way more fun than the ultramarathon runners who came through later with 82km in their legs, on trails that had become even more slick over the course of the day. I would have been laughing my head off if I'd had just 2k in my legs, too, at that point! In hindsight, I should have changed from the Terraclaw shoes to the Inov-8 x-talons at the last checkpoint.<br />
<br />
The flora in the rainforest was stunning and included things I've never seen before - cool flowers growing straight out of rocks on cliffsides - wonderful for the eyes. But the ground was not so wonderful to my 49 year old tired and inflexible legs. I arrived at Asomadero at 2.06pm, 14hr36 lapsed on the clock, and now 1hr20 behind projections. I knew it was going to get worse. Another rainforest section next.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Uphill nearly 700m in under 3km and downhill slip-and-slide 900m over 5km to Tigaigo. I had found out the next girl had fallen back to 45 minutes behind me. The slight nausea finally started to abate near Tigaigo. I had been drinking tons, which seemed to help. Perhaps it was a combination of dehydration at altitude plus the lack of oxygen to help digestion that had triggered it. I was two hours behind projections now. It felt like a disaster, but it was the best I was able to do. I was in pretty good spirits about my adventure and ready to head for that finish chute.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The last 3km of the run into Puerto Cruz went through town, mostly along the foreshore. Spectators and tourists shouting "Ah-nee-mahl!" and clapping, three "false" gantries where announcers called out details of the runners passing by. The word "tercera" (third) was one I had added to my limited Spanish vocabulary by that point.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Finally, I ran up into that <a href="https://youtu.be/W_4OKnXFqwc" target="_blank">the final gantry. 5.25pm. </a>17 hours 55 minutes. Two hours behind projections, with one hour of that due to slower-than-anticipated descent off the bouldery technical mountainous terrain and another hour due to the slower-than-molasses descent in the two rainforest sections. A spectacular event with incredible organisation. A one of a kind experience. One of the best sunrises of my life. A highly recommended adventure for all Ah-nee-mahls. Just be sure to get loads of elevation in your training.<br />
<br />
Mágica, as they say.</div>
<div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEECNk1bw_5GdTy4RPJcyFTbmzkCK-cnm-_uIGSzjXWxQIaIZ0m_liZS2UoUuYSfqYYyvr-kW4q6zw_TDY3AUws8O62rEIUqdvVe3ptwnJAs_7QMEOVZ8onNkz0zbGv3ATmblex5Ngn3kJ/s1600/FB_IMG_1528618790339.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="478" data-original-width="720" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEECNk1bw_5GdTy4RPJcyFTbmzkCK-cnm-_uIGSzjXWxQIaIZ0m_liZS2UoUuYSfqYYyvr-kW4q6zw_TDY3AUws8O62rEIUqdvVe3ptwnJAs_7QMEOVZ8onNkz0zbGv3ATmblex5Ngn3kJ/s640/FB_IMG_1528618790339.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Overall (Absoluta) - 1st: Azara Garcia de Los Salmones Marcano & Yeray Duran Lopez (ESP) 2nd: Nadezda Surmonina (RUS) & Sange Sherpa (NEP) 3rd: me (CAN-AUS) and Juan Antonio Gonzalez Rodriguez (ESP)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqXG4DmrzwnstVmFgxFccTMjPu-CiLyj5yM8kgh-ZRYXGR0HeQTWsAeURrHHA-jWxIw64yimUDCZS8_aThhN7KzsBad53DKLg33Jum7Q4Vowr9q68FfMGjO0qLsdGj_9rNgl1qGSKZ1Zvt/s1600/Overall+1st+to+3rd+with+trophies.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqXG4DmrzwnstVmFgxFccTMjPu-CiLyj5yM8kgh-ZRYXGR0HeQTWsAeURrHHA-jWxIw64yimUDCZS8_aThhN7KzsBad53DKLg33Jum7Q4Vowr9q68FfMGjO0qLsdGj_9rNgl1qGSKZ1Zvt/s640/Overall+1st+to+3rd+with+trophies.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Veteran A class (40-49 years): A Canaussie with the Spaniards. 1st: me with Yeray Duran Lopez (ESP) 2nd: Ana Belen Martin Gonzalez (ESP) & Juan Antonio Gonzalez Rodriguez (ESP) 3rd: Carmen Martinez Saez (missing - ESP) & Arcadio Araujo Gopar (ESP)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-31794484726542529312018-05-08T07:57:00.002-07:002018-05-08T07:57:37.160-07:00Sponge Bathing My Way to a CAN W45 6hr Record<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I trained diligently and consistently for 12 weeks preparing for my second attempt at the AUS W45 100km record held by Lavinia Petrie. I needed to shave "only" about 5 minutes off my January time. That's the difference between running a 5.04 pace for 100k and a 5.01 pace (with no breaks). It's actually quite a bit. For me. For over 8 hours of running.<br />
<br />
But I thought with cooler weather, calmer winds, the kind surface and precision-like nature of a track, plus 12 weeks of solid training, I might do it.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn9rNyRdkot_yJM6lEt1hYz0IsT8Tx_FTGMC-qvl0o7IY_bolcTXSTgDcKsm0sLwWvklq5Gv_cCCZ81USNaSsgFthYy0DGYAYC5T7y8GXhfCda3OngO4tPmxLZpIILKCzhBTYcFUdOdhtv/s1600/IMG_4020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="801" data-original-width="1200" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn9rNyRdkot_yJM6lEt1hYz0IsT8Tx_FTGMC-qvl0o7IY_bolcTXSTgDcKsm0sLwWvklq5Gv_cCCZ81USNaSsgFthYy0DGYAYC5T7y8GXhfCda3OngO4tPmxLZpIILKCzhBTYcFUdOdhtv/s640/IMG_4020.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lane 1-2: 24hr runners. Lane 3-4: 12hr runners (me included). Lane 5: 24hr walkers</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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A week before the Coburg 12hr, I saw the Melbourne forecast. "Oh, no, here we go again!" 25 degrees Celsius and a noon start. And heat radiates off a track surface. But I had to try. My back up race - the Sri Chinmoy 12 hr track in June - was out because I'm headed overseas by then.<br />
<br />
I packed the sponges and arranged to borrow a Victorian-based esky.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQChmhVvnplZQMM_iRxGNn5AeLVx1Ej0wnfsuF7qIgh9TDuHkbqLOY9_VNLHO3muz186rekq7nBgamkDeuFH1Xc7wKJrmEM1j_9Ucr4kpVVzSd3W4oeOo3meGmuRovQcmewFoskOUB8jcY/s1600/P1290596.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="797" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQChmhVvnplZQMM_iRxGNn5AeLVx1Ej0wnfsuF7qIgh9TDuHkbqLOY9_VNLHO3muz186rekq7nBgamkDeuFH1Xc7wKJrmEM1j_9Ucr4kpVVzSd3W4oeOo3meGmuRovQcmewFoskOUB8jcY/s400/P1290596.JPG" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Soaked.</td></tr>
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Other than having mental angst along the lines of "Why do I do this to myself?!" and some pretty stand-out butterflies-in-stomach feelings the night before and morning of the race, all was well with last minute preparations.<br />
<br />
Fifteen minutes after the start gun went off, the soaking began. If I didn't have Perpetuem or a pear in hand, I almost invariably had a sponge. My fingers got wrinkly from holding sponges so much. (I even had to do sewing repairs on one of my sponges post-event!)<br />
<br />
Pace-wise, I tried to hold myself back a bit so I wouldn't burn out before the clouds came in. I went through 50km in 4h7m. That's 1min slower than at the ADU race in January. I could only hope that by being a bit more conservative in the heat, I'd have the ability to push in the last 3 hours. But the heat was actually worse than at ADU, as I was in full sun at 25C from the start, for hours. Who would have thought - the WA summer race weather was better than Melbourne in autumn! (Granted, the ADU ran from midnight and I was done by 8.30am.)<br />
<br />
I fought back the voice that kept telling me how hopeless it was. I willed myself to give it a good crack and at least try to get to the 6hr mark, where I should set a new W45 CAN record. And, besides, we had another uncomfortable hotel and no desire to play tourist in Melbourne, so what else would we do with the rest of our Saturday night?<br />
<br />
As 6 hours approached and I felt the 100k pace slipping further, I was tempted to run it out hard and leave it all on the track at that point. But I told myself "steady on." I couldn't toss away the 100k yet.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig_66ZzNm0RJKgBAS_ynvFKEUak5J0JSKG156cuCLXqkY1Fp535BulP-kOrpJSO6NAy0dbzh1HzKf0ky74jP3Cv6Ix80EFVgtJqupinWTWD-bso-xI_rYUg4qcxnbJ43fixP1VQ_te5Ygb/s1600/P4210033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig_66ZzNm0RJKgBAS_ynvFKEUak5J0JSKG156cuCLXqkY1Fp535BulP-kOrpJSO6NAy0dbzh1HzKf0ky74jP3Cv6Ix80EFVgtJqupinWTWD-bso-xI_rYUg4qcxnbJ43fixP1VQ_te5Ygb/s400/P4210033.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clouds came in late, but still required soaking.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
At the 6hr mark, I dropped a little sandbag on the track and kept running. The race director came around with a wheel to add up the extra metres I'd covered after crossing the timing mat. My total was 72.329km for 6 hours - I surpassed the former record by 2km (though I did better than that at ADU, they had no means to measure the 6hr split). I felt a welling up of emotion for a hard fought battle to that point. But there was no time to celebrate with my partner. I simply yelled out as I passed him next lap, "Well, at least we have THAT!" We both knew 100k time goal looked unlikely.<br />
<br />
I pressed on for another hour. We both did the maths in different ways but came to the same conclusion. At my current pace, I'd pass 8hr22 with 2 laps to go. I needed to get my 2min10s laps back down to 2min2s. For each of the remaining 40+ laps. I had to go from 5:15min/k pace back below 5 min/k pace. But when I tried to push, I felt a wee bit nauseous. That means the stomach isn't going to take on fuel, as the body is working too hard contracting muscles and cooling itself. I could push like that for 20-30 minutes, maybe a bit more, but not for 80 minutes.<br />
<br />
At 7 hours, I ran past Rolf and said, "I'm not sure why I'm still running." Truth was, I felt pretty good. I mean, I was stiffening up and utterly soaked from my all-day mobile sponge bath, but I felt all right for having run over 80km.<br />
<br />
But there was no good reason to put any more load on my body - not to run another 8hr27 or 8hr28. I was time to hang up my shoes and start recovering.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ndjHVhFZS9PBF9-pN7G3Mke-PJ5-6gknIbrHE8_AydZ5nPehmsnB357gkEd2Avxg85-v3ule5M0km0Satr6OAcnbsc0nbbQwcWVvzVFPhvlnx40FPp7VYxVn68A4iUcmCF2AWGULIXKN/s1600/DSC_4006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ndjHVhFZS9PBF9-pN7G3Mke-PJ5-6gknIbrHE8_AydZ5nPehmsnB357gkEd2Avxg85-v3ule5M0km0Satr6OAcnbsc0nbbQwcWVvzVFPhvlnx40FPp7VYxVn68A4iUcmCF2AWGULIXKN/s640/DSC_4006.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The moment I chose to stop at 7 hours/~84km. I was happy I did my best, given the conditions and just had to concede.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Third time's a charm, right? I've got a few more training strategies up my sleeve - and reckon three sauna sessions might have helped.... But, really, I must get the venue-and-weather combination right to stand a chance.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUSYIgeExbqvVIU4vP1GUVkVFnrACvZph91DbbsslgTAVj1bCMTge50Gyn-Fl1EM1nJ0C3BsgmX2w7olN3T3F9rUy_u184y2OTsikmcSR9crCTUz6ayASD5Vfhfbmr7RvogIrdpTLq3Gbs/s1600/P1290764.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUSYIgeExbqvVIU4vP1GUVkVFnrACvZph91DbbsslgTAVj1bCMTge50Gyn-Fl1EM1nJ0C3BsgmX2w7olN3T3F9rUy_u184y2OTsikmcSR9crCTUz6ayASD5Vfhfbmr7RvogIrdpTLq3Gbs/s640/P1290764.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An amazing race director, Tim Erickson. Oddly, I came away with 1st place in the 12hr, despite stopping at 7hr.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So... maybe.... If I don't run out of time and turn 50 before I find that perfect venue in perfect cool, calm weather! It's a strange feeling to break a record, but feel unfulfilled. The 100k challenge remains strong in me.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6JeEwniAxK1lIarxS4izLUXzFIFMK4WU4hLOsFpX1dV5SFs56k-VHy-Y__YufXxIx9S-7CCB8AtfrMplP12FuhdjWbb0immgXUJGYkdahN2_z-QwM6Va-RQifDcFev-D3VpQNtt6inpki/s1600/P4210004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6JeEwniAxK1lIarxS4izLUXzFIFMK4WU4hLOsFpX1dV5SFs56k-VHy-Y__YufXxIx9S-7CCB8AtfrMplP12FuhdjWbb0immgXUJGYkdahN2_z-QwM6Va-RQifDcFev-D3VpQNtt6inpki/s640/P4210004.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'd like weather where it's not hot enough for spectators to sunbath in tank tops on the infield, please.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-32034830182875187932018-04-27T23:21:00.000-07:002018-04-28T03:12:44.968-07:00Women Are Not Small Men - Even in FKTs<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When I attempted the Bibbulmun Track 1000km Fastest Known Time (FKT) in November 2011, I chose to go supported. In FKT world, there are 3 categories: (1) supported (all varying levels of assistance), (2) self-supported (must be alone, no dedicated help, but you can use shops and the like that everyone else has access to), and (3) unsupported (must haul all gear start to finish - pretty much impossible for a 1000km track like the Bibbulmun).<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipnSXXZxG15hHH9g_UtI0fDYxJGu2MmM7nKJ_ehGeINp4uNirWYFYQmf-NuWy-8e4jUHRaaNCveZ85qmeCTxlA1U6Dtyg-6DS2EQl9SLmHVWJZ1wUCuDQs51FRCTNPV_O33FjCAdOCCdm2/s1600/at+the+start.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipnSXXZxG15hHH9g_UtI0fDYxJGu2MmM7nKJ_ehGeINp4uNirWYFYQmf-NuWy-8e4jUHRaaNCveZ85qmeCTxlA1U6Dtyg-6DS2EQl9SLmHVWJZ1wUCuDQs51FRCTNPV_O33FjCAdOCCdm2/s640/at+the+start.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">November 1st - about 5am.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>The records at that time:</b><br />
<i>Supported - Men:</i> Paul Madden - 16d 8h 15m (Nov 2010)<br />
<i>Supported - Women:</i> none<br />
<i>Self-Supported - Men: </i>Andy Fawcet had made a claim on self-supported, with incomplete evidence provided and a woman reported she was with him nearly all the way (making his attempt really a supported one). In November 2012, Andy Hewat removed any ambiguity from this category by running 17d 9h 39m, which was faster than Fawcet's claimed time.<br />
<i>Self-Supported - Women: </i>Nicki Rehn - 19.5d (Apr 2009)<br />
<br />
My original plan had been to go self-supported and attempt to better Nicki's 19.5day. Once convinced to go supported, I was left needing a target time. Since there was no supported women's record, I chose Paul Madden's time of 16d 8h as a benchmark. He had been walking, so I thought I might be able to go faster than that running, despite having the physical disadvantage of being in a female body.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Y29fvJNMWKIlpvf1hrPguL67RsQ4LnB12RtP7B8GWjHlmtSMPCnjS3N600ZlC5VN_HnojFiNWBRW2er8CVYMKDQomi3Q6mqvsEPd3fR4_dcd1WC7wWQ-JC_bM6M6xcoWcZnKT7MfXtvO/s1600/me+and+rolf+resting.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Y29fvJNMWKIlpvf1hrPguL67RsQ4LnB12RtP7B8GWjHlmtSMPCnjS3N600ZlC5VN_HnojFiNWBRW2er8CVYMKDQomi3Q6mqvsEPd3fR4_dcd1WC7wWQ-JC_bM6M6xcoWcZnKT7MfXtvO/s400/me+and+rolf+resting.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">South of Balingup, from memory. The Bibb foot saga begins!</td></tr>
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<br />
The attempt was almost a comedy of errors, with my suffering over 50 tick bites, having food repulsion, forgetting a spare headlamp battery one night and being in the dark on Mt Vincent, having our support vehicle breaking down (and bogging down at one point).... The list goes on and on!<br />
<br />
I developed compartment syndrome in my left leg, which came on within 5 days, and eventually had me spend a day off the trail in Denmark and Albany hospitals for scans. My pace became a hobble. Despite it all, I managed to finish in 15d 9h 48m. My partner and I had nightmares for two weeks.<br />
<br />
For the next few years, whenever I heard about an FKT attempt, I stressed over it. My effort had been so hard fought that I was overly attached to it. I felt that if someone "smashed" my time, it wouldn't then reflect the pain, determination, strength, and resilience of my 2011 run.<br />
<br />
Such stress has gone down with each passing year and with each new attempt I've heard about. I stopped having to wrestle with the mixed feelings of wanting them to go well, but also not break "my" record.<br />
<br />
The curious thing, though? That every single attempt since November 2011 has been by a male. Including this month's - April 2018. Shane Johnstone and James Roberts of Perth set off on a supported FKT attempt from south to north. About the time they started, I was asked my opinion on their publicised 12 day attempt. I finally realised that I should simply do the maths. I'm very science-based and science has always guided my running. It takes the emotion and guesswork out of so much.<br />
<br />
We know from the data that <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4309798/" target="_blank">men generally outperform women</a> in running <a href="http://content.time.com/time/health/article/0,8599,1831398,00.html" target="_blank">by about 11%</a>.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6HWmZun8lvQhhbY-VTv4zDOGqoqfFLnKIwV-llmS_uKJoxCPZg8DVnAs6VzQ5OR63O0xdQJ6rKTrh70bIYExV2dEemQaCdxlXqDRwiaYoPNnnow8ct8IJcpu4WgK14OmKJ_ojwGyC2U97/s1600/another+exciting+day+and+the+loss+of+the+laptop+and+one+camera.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6HWmZun8lvQhhbY-VTv4zDOGqoqfFLnKIwV-llmS_uKJoxCPZg8DVnAs6VzQ5OR63O0xdQJ6rKTrh70bIYExV2dEemQaCdxlXqDRwiaYoPNnnow8ct8IJcpu4WgK14OmKJ_ojwGyC2U97/s400/another+exciting+day+and+the+loss+of+the+laptop+and+one+camera.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the things that can go wrong.</td></tr>
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Given my 370hr finish, a man should be able to run the Bibbulmun in at least 335hr (13d 23h). Given I spent a day off the track in hospitals, perhaps my time could have been more like 346hr. That gives a male finish time of 312hr (13d 0h). Given my compartment syndrome and the fact that I was forced to rest multiple times each afternoon when the pain made it impossible for me to weight bear (the worst time was 5km in 3hrs), there was likely even more room for a man (and a woman) to do better, if they had a more "perfect run." But of course there's so much that can go wrong, from injuries to getting lost to vehicle breakdowns.<br />
<br />
Doing the maths reminded me that I must never compare my performances to men's. Over that many days, 11% ends up looking pretty huge, too. It's days, not minutes, like in a 5k track race. Women are not small men. Our testosterone levels are lower. Our muscles are smaller. We have less haemoglobin. Our VO2max is lower. We carry more fat.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ipkBAsCCa4vLj-p6rBtUz1AyS_TF3Vyg-lmeJfHOvM3t7s74gfjUryq8ax_8UTiHLqEx67U7vjhJmHjeYGE8WHfyGQXE7mpsVzvYgOs_xpite9HSpDQsi0t7qpw8WUKNke6WocypTreM/s1600/download+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="171" data-original-width="295" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1ipkBAsCCa4vLj-p6rBtUz1AyS_TF3Vyg-lmeJfHOvM3t7s74gfjUryq8ax_8UTiHLqEx67U7vjhJmHjeYGE8WHfyGQXE7mpsVzvYgOs_xpite9HSpDQsi0t7qpw8WUKNke6WocypTreM/s320/download+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look, no women!</td></tr>
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I've become quite vocal in the past couple years about our tendency to compare men's and women's performances and to note things like when a woman wins an event "outright" or gets "third overall" or similar. According to the IAAF and IAU, women and men run in separate events held concurrently. This is done for simplicity, really. On the track, men and women still run separate races.<br />
<br />
I don't want to be compared to men in my running. If I win an event "outright", it just means that men underperformed or the calibre wasn't there at that particular event. That's all. <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/technology/archive/2012/08/we-thought-female-athletes-were-catching-up-to-men-but-theyre-not/260927/" target="_blank">Physiologically, women do not outrun men</a>. And, no, not even at the longer distances, as some have tried to suggest. The exception continues to be the exception. Not the rule.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBy4tiRvA5bHnSOa7bq8CBO7SNsc-dZPlF8Y1eWgAMsHuLM3nnf6wmJ5FNtz4gH4hkNOUyx0T8izYUqRJzFzVRsspRgJq26YdNUIIVyhVQUK78eqtYfuQqRrtpbBC-K66ZdK-iiapICTeL/s1600/download+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBy4tiRvA5bHnSOa7bq8CBO7SNsc-dZPlF8Y1eWgAMsHuLM3nnf6wmJ5FNtz4gH4hkNOUyx0T8izYUqRJzFzVRsspRgJq26YdNUIIVyhVQUK78eqtYfuQqRrtpbBC-K66ZdK-iiapICTeL/s320/download+%25284%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look, no men!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
There is no "outright" win in a running race, other than "outright" men's winner and "outright" women's winner. They are two separate events held concurrently. Have I mentioned that?<br />
<br />
When the Boston marathon winner of the men's event finishes, I just can't imagine he says, "I totally smashed <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paula_Radcliffe" target="_blank">Paula Radcliffe</a>'s time."<br />
<br />
So, how did the boys from Perth go? James had to pull out with a leg injury/bacterial infection, but <a href="https://thewest.com.au/news/wa/wa-runner-shane-johnstone-finishes-bibbulmun-track-run-in-under-12-days-ng-b88817327z" target="_blank">Shane powered on</a> to finish in an amazing 11d 7h 8m. That's one stout men's supported FKT.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQh9ck4aUhXvnn4ZPx2Hxe6tbsML0-ME9DQmQhiQjDQ7DIEWBIT5xQjctijCUw1MsuPSyQr7vBT4RxsAkp3Q9cuD6iXJRn1x4EbRiVgdhjhlTiucD7hHaQIyRRR-JDzjzC4gTOf9VrmSR9/s1600/download+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQh9ck4aUhXvnn4ZPx2Hxe6tbsML0-ME9DQmQhiQjDQ7DIEWBIT5xQjctijCUw1MsuPSyQr7vBT4RxsAkp3Q9cuD6iXJRn1x4EbRiVgdhjhlTiucD7hHaQIyRRR-JDzjzC4gTOf9VrmSR9/s400/download+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shane (centre) at the finish, with crew man Kyle (left) and James (right) - photo by Rob Donkersloot</td></tr>
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Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-91057871466169634412018-03-23T06:14:00.001-07:002018-03-23T06:14:42.742-07:00From Sea to Summit: Simultaneously Training for Track and Mountain Races<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Being my own coach means a lot of things.<br />
<br />
Autonomy. The freedom to stuff up totally in programming for myself. No independent, objective consultants to offer potentially disagreeable opinions on my "brilliant" training plan.<br />
<br />
Internal Accountability. No one to answer to if I hit snooze and sleep through that early session. No one to notice if I change "Mona fartlek" in the program to "easy 10k."<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmnukaN3DiNxeNazzcV_ZHh_WNgLA46e1b4SAN07fS2eq0TLyJOYYIu3R5FDvcER192fu6zBIJ8sQgnAHKshqjUQq_hEUyTDy_zbLSxHgDo_DUmYvQLbNFN1Pk6aeCPDK_z-cofkihED6g/s1600/me+on+bg+course.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmnukaN3DiNxeNazzcV_ZHh_WNgLA46e1b4SAN07fS2eq0TLyJOYYIu3R5FDvcER192fu6zBIJ8sQgnAHKshqjUQq_hEUyTDy_zbLSxHgDo_DUmYvQLbNFN1Pk6aeCPDK_z-cofkihED6g/s400/me+on+bg+course.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Unique training: flag a trail race then run it hours later!</td></tr>
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Improved Reading Skills. Scouring the research for the latest in training ideas*, injury prevention and management*, strength training for runners**, and recovery strategies also offers the opportunity to hold a paid-for UWA library membership for journal access.<br />
<br />
I'm training for the <a href="http://www.coburg24hr.org/24hr/" target="_blank">Coburg 12hr</a>. I'm in for the 6hr and 100km splits, followed by a pretty bad 12hr finish distance! Race day is 21 April. This has been one of the longest, most structured programs I've ever undertaken. It's got some new elements in it for me (which, as my own coach, I don't have to worry about any disapproval over!)<br />
<br />
I've been at it for 8 weeks and am now 4 weeks out from race day. My "A goal" is to break the AUS W45 record held by Lavinia Petrie of 8.22.17 from 1992. I should also record a 6hr split that would better my CAN W45 6hr record. I don't think I've worked harder for a goal race outside of UTMB.<br />
<br />
Other than the April 100k race, which was an obvious choice for me after coming within 5 minutes of the AUS record at January's hot and windy summer Australia Day Ultra, the rest of my year sat open before me. So many races, but I just couldn't find one that called me with an irresistible siren song. I can never be sure what the tune will be when I'm looking for a race. For example, UTMB held no allure for me for years. Finally, at the end of 2014, I found myself captivated by it. How well could my 46-year-old-me do, if I put everything I could into it?<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz5OlLgi83xJly1UfY40J2PtemY_TQmJ6jwo78IvgmbmSkEZ-jCjh5UpLaXED3ROnPO_mQLPB1APfnWslijVpz3F6rXplsRUyq_NKM7ZlgT1m3GAatk99BFri-XeixVRpE5oUJO9hCArwV/s1600/homer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="557" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz5OlLgi83xJly1UfY40J2PtemY_TQmJ6jwo78IvgmbmSkEZ-jCjh5UpLaXED3ROnPO_mQLPB1APfnWslijVpz3F6rXplsRUyq_NKM7ZlgT1m3GAatk99BFri-XeixVRpE5oUJO9hCArwV/s320/homer.jpg" width="287" /></a>The 2018 race that sang out to me back in December was <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=218rHALiYpI" target="_blank">Tenerife Bluetrail</a>. Roughly 100km + 6800m from one side of Tenerife island (Canary Islands) to the other side, over <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Teide" target="_blank">Pico del Teide</a>, a volcano that stands at 3,718m and counts as Spain's highest peak. Whoa! A race that's almost all uphill for nearly 60km?? On a volcano? Point to point? On a country's highest peak? Move over, sirens, I'm headed for shore!<br />
<br />
But ...the date...only 7 weeks after the 100k track race. How could I recover properly and then train for a mountain race? A race with D+680m per 10k. That's more vert per 10k than UTMB.<br />
<br />
I searched and searched for another siren song. A race at the end of June would be much better. Like Marathon du Mont-Blanc (91k+6220m). I've been sitting on that entry for 1.5 months.<br />
<br />
So, the Tenerife date isn't perfect. But it calls. And if anything, trying to figure out how to train for a massive mountain race, whilst simultaneously recovering from a 100k track race adds to the alluring challenge. And if there's one siren call I always hear, it's CHALLENGE.<br />
<br />
Hence, the unique training program. Which I shall not divulge the details of. Just in case I need to patent it later.<br />
<br />
But here are some numbers from the past 21 days:<br />
<br />
Distance run: 495km<br />
Vertical: 14,275m<br />
Number of days waking to an alarm because of work: 1<br />
Number of days waking to an alarm because of running: 12<br />
Nights slept in <a href="https://www.cepaustralia.com/CEP-Compression-Clone-Tech-Tights" target="_blank">full compression tights</a>: 5<br />
Hammer <a href="https://www.hammernutrition.com.au/product/race-caps-supreme/" target="_blank">Race Caps</a> and Mito Caps consumed: 21 each<br />
Udo's Oil consumed: ~26-30 tbsp<br />
Number of one hour massages: 4<br />
<a href="https://www.langerhealth.com.au/" target="_blank">Sports chiro</a> visits: 1<br />
Treadmill runs: 1<br />
Other altered runs: 2 (for heat)<br />
Loads of laundry done: 295 (or thereabouts)<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSpCmyfOGuptWGLiy8TJ4BGg2zTONDxlYX2xiplO16QOwjxoJ5F9FhYNobt1_M048Np3tJA_wtbcZiVGaju7l9AGjIYO55I7VLtkxsEfDyHjSQTF7fcdqj247_X5BONjlSct-B_MWmC5M8/s1600/elevation+from+connect.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="697" data-original-width="1035" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSpCmyfOGuptWGLiy8TJ4BGg2zTONDxlYX2xiplO16QOwjxoJ5F9FhYNobt1_M048Np3tJA_wtbcZiVGaju7l9AGjIYO55I7VLtkxsEfDyHjSQTF7fcdqj247_X5BONjlSct-B_MWmC5M8/s640/elevation+from+connect.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tenerife Bluetrail profile</td></tr>
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I must say, although this has been a very challenging program, made more so by it being summer, I'm happy to report that I still love running. I've had loads of whinges and a few bad words have been uttered about Perth summer heat, the insane humidity this year, and crazy winds that make holding speed work pace an impossibility some days. But my easy days have become an even better excuse to do rubbish collection on the trails. Mother Nature is winning!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVfOHsDzQk-44ky7xx_yYVr_rAgRvBVQtV60enTzx8OF9ySnlzVI3cMCv60hU31qj2LmUfVQuD8x13XB3ijXV8UlFFKQaWW5GNqoNYFl8ZG68MYTfl8aduK9YJqWk2dv9KDvV2INt4scEK/s1600/DSC_3889-COLLAGE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVfOHsDzQk-44ky7xx_yYVr_rAgRvBVQtV60enTzx8OF9ySnlzVI3cMCv60hU31qj2LmUfVQuD8x13XB3ijXV8UlFFKQaWW5GNqoNYFl8ZG68MYTfl8aduK9YJqWk2dv9KDvV2INt4scEK/s400/DSC_3889-COLLAGE.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My "single use" shop bags have become too small for my efforts!</td></tr>
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*I still won't be investing in a <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4879455/" target="_blank">pseudo altitude training mask</a> or <a href="https://journals.humankinetics.com/doi/abs/10.1123/ijatt.2016-0093?journalCode=ijatt" target="_blank">voodoo floss</a>. </div>
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**I have found great value in my purchase of Jay Dicharry's latest book <i><a href="https://anathletesbody.com/my-books/" target="_blank">Running Rewired</a></i>.</div>
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Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-44167706046151593262018-01-25T06:06:00.000-08:002018-01-25T06:06:06.337-08:00Australia Day Ultra: Saved by a Donga and a Stampeding Herd in the Dark<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-US">I wrote my
race plan. Then my partner showed me the detailed forecasts. The ones pilots
use. Nothing like the wide-angle lens that our regular pedestrian forecasts
provide. 71 to 77% humidity. Wind starting at 26kph increasing to 30kph at 3am.
“That’s not record breaking weather!” I groaned.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9vTJlQDVSPiNTuRynw2MYk-4R0jgrFJ7IhH-dUmlQDfzFTdXBiMet0DKUUBMjEUCwJ6yd3CwljUIyp6GO0iJ9EQG3L129oLZbO2SWwaOhoqnDRd_Iy096DUCPaf3Ay-YA_qHJJ_nyGd-l/s1600/weather-ausdayultra.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="286" data-original-width="671" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9vTJlQDVSPiNTuRynw2MYk-4R0jgrFJ7IhH-dUmlQDfzFTdXBiMet0DKUUBMjEUCwJ6yd3CwljUIyp6GO0iJ9EQG3L129oLZbO2SWwaOhoqnDRd_Iy096DUCPaf3Ay-YA_qHJJ_nyGd-l/s400/weather-ausdayultra.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Somewhere in Bunbury, this was the forecast. But not exactly where we were.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The midnight start provided a f</span>eeling of serenity that made the
race start feel more relaxed. And I liked that it made me feel a bit
more invisible. I’m always pretty quiet before a race. Introverts have to guard
our energy. And I have a tendency to get excited around my tribe of MUTs.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Thirty
seconds in, WA runner and NZL representative Richard Avery had shot out into the darkness and I was running
beside two other locals, Kevin Matthews and Jon Pendse. Kev had an ambitious M50 national record goal, but appeared
relaxed and was cracking jokes about our 4.22 pace. Yeah, we reeled that in in
a hurry. But the boys were soon off in the distance as we all settled into our
target paces.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The wind
was forecast to be ESE and we were running a N-S out-and-back that was 6.25km one
way. I wondered if the Bibbulmun Track was closer than I thought. Because the
Bibbulmun Track always had lessons for me. And I was being served my first
“acceptance” lesson. The gusty cross wind often had me feeling like I was
running into a headwind both directions. It was so humidly hot I was pouring
water on myself from 1.15am.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-TT_3vs7U7GWyatLEVHAXxeXD6Jnl5Qa6wYRWoHlLnvwDJqKYwKKih9oD0cBPOQKZLNEW9KIWgxpGYNUZUn3atYvqMQQ74ii2hK3tayRsRnG8B55393kn4N-Bfznq1MIAePVIznc_OTny/s1600/toys-out-pram.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="402" data-original-width="560" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-TT_3vs7U7GWyatLEVHAXxeXD6Jnl5Qa6wYRWoHlLnvwDJqKYwKKih9oD0cBPOQKZLNEW9KIWgxpGYNUZUn3atYvqMQQ74ii2hK3tayRsRnG8B55393kn4N-Bfznq1MIAePVIznc_OTny/s400/toys-out-pram.jpg" width="400" /></a><span lang="EN-US">From 1:30am
to 3:00am I mentally quit. I quit a hundred times. Silently, I ranted, I
whinged, I spat the dummy and I threw all the toys out of the pram. I retired
from racing. For sure this time. Really. At 2hr30 I was less than a minute off
the plan. Not much, but I knew where it was headed. And then the wind picked
up. In the next 6.25km section I lost another 30 seconds. I noticed my shoes felt a bit loose. Running in a half-size larger, as usual for this distance, combined with silicon Blistershield and Sportshield lube on my feet, I hadn't gotten the laces quite perfect. I fixated on whether I was getting hot spots on my soles and whinged about whether I'd have to stop and tighten my shoes, wasting a precious minute I didn't have. At 2hr05min, I was
headed in for a headlamp swap when I was suddenly thrust into total darkness at
a 4.45min/k pace. Not enough charge left to run the battery on full brightness.
Another whinge. There is no room for errors and faffing about in any
record-breaking plan I write.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">Luckily, I
had really crappy accommodation. Every time I pictured going up to my partner
(the silent, steadfast sentinel crewing me all night) to tell him I quit, I
imagined driving back to our crappy “cabin” (a.k.a., donga or ATCO trailer).
And laying there all night in a worn out bed with a too-high pillow, amped up
on Fully Charged and caffeine, whilst everyone else ran. I had no idea at the
time, but now I know how strategic it can be to make quitting really
off-putting!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">I was coming into the start/finish line just after 3am, finishing my third 12.5k lap (of eight). The 50km runners were starting. I had a brief game of dodge-em, as the pack was using the width of the entire path, passing each other in the frenzy that usually accompanies a race start. Because the footpath had curves there, the ones passing couldn't see ahead that there was oncoming traffic in the form of a little redhead. I shouted, "Keep left, keep left!" as I ran into the herd of oncoming headlamps.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLuHV_gmqihAaylsXi_pMN_mfRuBSREa_NHRY_M4hbd5Z71W43HNsWBlXdH2gZ9GGAKY2FWaWKCRMR_rGmJZL8QyhVLQmBCo2tjeqqX2WAWC8lFQPJ3f0YonRc1lZiH8A4h6pBqlD_Pq6l/s1600/4f62d0eb010cfe0576ddfdadf33488a3--classic-cartoon-characters-classic-cartoons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="562" data-original-width="700" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLuHV_gmqihAaylsXi_pMN_mfRuBSREa_NHRY_M4hbd5Z71W43HNsWBlXdH2gZ9GGAKY2FWaWKCRMR_rGmJZL8QyhVLQmBCo2tjeqqX2WAWC8lFQPJ3f0YonRc1lZiH8A4h6pBqlD_Pq6l/s320/4f62d0eb010cfe0576ddfdadf33488a3--classic-cartoon-characters-classic-cartoons.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The unexpected. Like the <a href="https://youtu.be/MsROL4Kf8QY" target="_blank">Looney Tunes dancing singing frog</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="EN-US">The adrenaline rush of not being knocked over by a full grown bloke with a 50km PB in mind turned out to be a good thing. It broke my perseverative internal tantrum. Ever seen your child having a tantrum and then stood on the coffee table and started singing the national anthem at full volume? Try it. Distraction. They taught us that in child psychology school :)</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"></span><br /><span lang="EN-US"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">So, I had a sudden distraction that broke my tantrum. And then it hit me that I'd been so fixated on the 8.22.17 W45 AUS record time that I
just wasn’t accepting the conditions. Tunnel vision. I widened my lens and
remembered my mantra written on my toes: BESTDAYEVER. I held on to the
aspiration of the 8.22 (maybe the wind would suddenly abate and the humidity
would drop), but shifted my mindset to fulfilling my mantra. What would it mean
to have the best day ever? Run as solidly as possible for the conditions. Don’t
stuff up nutrition or hydration. Run efficiently. Don’t back off and slack off,
but don’t get into a heart rate zone that will destroy me. Finish strong.
Smile.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">The birds
sang and the sky started to lighten about 4.15am. The sun was well up at 5am and we got word to drop the mandatory night gear. I dumped my headlamp and high-vis vest with Rolf, surprised at how heavy it actually felt in hand.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqJ5q9SO3Ctv6t3plQixh8RN4PQfcC8XK2-25x7Wez_mjkliD_HwaubPDwxOwWku5bawnR_cZCIISx6TqU_CkfwQkY_Qku5kVVXHaNcG1_zwAXBPILFkpUToud8iv-bA663FI6qLKjXJYO/s1600/P1060409.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqJ5q9SO3Ctv6t3plQixh8RN4PQfcC8XK2-25x7Wez_mjkliD_HwaubPDwxOwWku5bawnR_cZCIISx6TqU_CkfwQkY_Qku5kVVXHaNcG1_zwAXBPILFkpUToud8iv-bA663FI6qLKjXJYO/s400/P1060409.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This one didn't sing. Stuffed kookaburras hidden in trees for points comp.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="EN-US">The routine of the morning continued. </span>Soak myself with water at aid stations. Watch the splits, push as hard as I dared. Swap Perpetuem bottles every ~30 minutes when I passed Rolf and grab a 1/2 peeled pear at the same time. One word answers to his questions. "Want your sunnies or anything?" No. "Want some extra pear?" No. "Want a spray?" No. No time to stop and talk, no extra energy wasted on words. Though I did shout "Thank you!" sometimes as I ran off. And <i>always</i> felt grateful he was there and dedicated.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US">At the 6 hour mark, I passed the middle aid station - about 72km done. For the second time in three years, I had unofficially broken my CAN 6hr W45 record of 70.228km. Unfortunately, there were no stopwatches and no survey wheel to record my official split. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">As I headed for the start/finish line again to complete lap 6, the 25km runners appeared. Easier to dodge in the light. I practiced my Kipchoge smile as much as I could. Boy, that makes you feel good!</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXXVz8iE2EwTREKJslTxygV9Q1xUJrJw-SaWumEN0IDCrqTbs8s2FNoYaMgRUN7LzTayHqrH808SehXMLmnWnoLSb8bltsVLwBWl2DdH49D9sCkw8kLQZaJ7NsfSuQ355RW-qsONWH6Nhm/s1600/kipchoge.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXXVz8iE2EwTREKJslTxygV9Q1xUJrJw-SaWumEN0IDCrqTbs8s2FNoYaMgRUN7LzTayHqrH808SehXMLmnWnoLSb8bltsVLwBWl2DdH49D9sCkw8kLQZaJ7NsfSuQ355RW-qsONWH6Nhm/s640/kipchoge.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eliud Kipchoge, 2.03.05 marathon PB. He knows how to use the power of a smile!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Completing lap 7 in just under 7hr21, the 8hr30 goal was still attainable. The support of everyone on the course was insane. It was one of the most encouraging "good mojo" events I've ever been to. I heard so many encouraging words as I passed runners, many realising I was on my last lap. The heat increased, my leg muscles became more tired, and my stomach was less able to process calories. There's only so much blood to go around. The stomach is the first to shut down when demand outstrips supply. I had to very carefully monitor my calories. Much as I wanted to stop fueling, I knew it would mean a massive bonk. So I continued to sip Perp and nibble pear, drip feeding the carbs in.</div>
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I passed Rolf for the last time at about 8.05am. 3.3km to go, shouting, "See you at the finish! I think I can make 8.30!" My last 6.25km was faster than the two previous, but just by a bit. I had paced well.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqKjQ5bwvF-kyQOg5iVct0Nk6kmYEVrosOY2kHWTdPphlOrCtKTvCMwDU4tVaOrJM5yi7deOhuz0p_hP98dxpEgD2zPtVpEYyFLKr-e71ZgtvQurFo9EUwlHXxqFuGs55hPWWlODfY5qeB/s1600/P1060452.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqKjQ5bwvF-kyQOg5iVct0Nk6kmYEVrosOY2kHWTdPphlOrCtKTvCMwDU4tVaOrJM5yi7deOhuz0p_hP98dxpEgD2zPtVpEYyFLKr-e71ZgtvQurFo9EUwlHXxqFuGs55hPWWlODfY5qeB/s640/P1060452.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Final 2km.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I finished and kept walking it out a bit, as I often need to do after a big effort. If I stop too suddenly, I can seize up - or worse, get really dizzy as the calves have stopped pumping all the blood back up to my heart and head. A rush of emotion came over me as I reflected on how hard I'd worked to push through the long tough patch. How certain I was that I was going to quit. But not only did I not quit, I broke the 8.30 mark (achieving an A grade qualifier for World Championships), broke the CAN age-group record, broke the course record, and won. All on a day where I think conditions were tougher than 3 years ago.<br />
<br />
Rolf went off to get my recovery powder, some water, and my sunnies, and I continued to walk it out, feeling another wave of tears briefly pass over me. After sitting for a few minutes, I realised Dave Kennedy was there offering recovery massages. I gingerly got on the table. When he told me to flip from my stomach to my back, my left calf went into a cramp. It was the only time I've cramped like that during or after a race. I've had calf cramps in bed on occasion and I never thought they could have been any worse than they had been. I was wrong. I set a new bar for what a 10/10 calf cramp was. For what seemed like at least 30 seconds, I screamed and breathed like I was giving birth (I actually have no idea what that's like, but I've seen videos. And actually, the two births I've witnessed were far more controlled and quiet than I was!) There was nothing in my world but blinding pain and Dave holding my foot in dorsiflexion. I would have run another two laps, puking, than have that pain.<br />
<br />
The calf felt very fragile after that. Like it was ready to cramp again any moment. And then I got hungry. Really hungry. And started to get lightheaded. I told Rolf we needed to get me some food, so we headed for DongaWorld (the caravan park), 10 minutes away. By the time I got there, tensing my foot in dorsiflexion the whole way, I was starting to tingle. My face and lips were pins and needles. My stomach was tingling. Then my chest tightened such that it felt like my sports bra was two sizes too small. I actually grabbed it and pulled at the elastic strapping to confirm that it was indeed sitting normally on me and I hadn't somehow swollen into the Michelin man. I was getting a wee bit scared and wondering if I was about to find out where the local hospital was. Full on hypoglycaemia.<br />
<br />
I got myself on the little sofa and got my head and heart on the same plane and my feet resting on the arm of the sofa. Rolf got me some applesauce and I felt like he couldn't get it to me fast enough. I started in on that, the whole time having to keep flexing, extending, and rolling my ankle joint around to keep my calf from cramping. The race was over, but my suffering was increasing!<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimuwp8AIZbSc_fbxjzLs3KlyflfTvR7T1_bGQwRMHbXFJ2qq3Bb4D-2Uo1rofzBAHEJpDjBvUdtg80Q8-2HeLQYU7hBksCZO_QhxgOtyE_N2HY4oYqCnzTz3m6kRzd4w5NIFuDCDkYGfPw/s1600/DSC_3783.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimuwp8AIZbSc_fbxjzLs3KlyflfTvR7T1_bGQwRMHbXFJ2qq3Bb4D-2Uo1rofzBAHEJpDjBvUdtg80Q8-2HeLQYU7hBksCZO_QhxgOtyE_N2HY4oYqCnzTz3m6kRzd4w5NIFuDCDkYGfPw/s640/DSC_3783.JPG" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Keeping the foot in dorsiflexion to prevent calf cramping</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I continued to tell Rolf my symptoms. I was worried, but trying to maintain calm. It's tricky being your own first aid responder. I asked how my skin looked and he said very pale. I had a bit of a sweat going. I kept getting bites of food in and checked my heart rate. I check my HR every day, so it's quite a natural feeling. But it took me quite a while to get a read on it at the neck. It was weak, but wasn't racing. Rolf tried again to see if I'd try a Nudie beverage (fruit juice). I agreed. We needed to try to get more simple sugar in quickly. The Nudie went down in seconds and I literally felt the colour come back to my face. It stopped tingling, as did my stomach.<br />
<br />
But I continued to watch the "python" crawling around inside my left calf. It was bizarre. The right calf muscles were pulsating, too, but nothing like the left. This thankfully gave me the opportunity to learn a new word: fasciculation. Muscle twitching. Essentially, a random firing of the muscles - like low-grade cramps. My poor calves had been going "fire-release-fire-release" for nearly 8.5 hours. The switch was stuck on.<br />
<br />
At the same time, I was getting exhausted holding my foot in dorsiflexion. My tib ant was working to exhaustion. I asked Rolf to find a belt-like tool. He got a tie-down strap from the car and I used that around my foot to keep it tensed. Much easier. I had to lay that way for an hour.<br />
<br />
I realised afterwards that having switched from the Hammer Nutrition Recoverite, which has protein and some carbs, to Hammer's Vegan Protein, I didn't get any carbs post-race. Normally after a training run, I have the protein powder and eat some fruit or something to get my 45g of carbs for the muscle glycogen. Post-race easily digestible carbs will be on the future post-race plan! I never want to go through that again!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF5-u-eXrlisw-trEuJSk6wN_vPNbWuhAgwHO3WsdeXbjgV0i3TA-0Uh_NSK0-4iwDpq0GGkSfGhiSBxzzaPu0590LAgdjsp1Ws2fPHumoX2Qnhgmri5JVIl3hyphenhyphenGU2L4YixkI8lb_EOc9L/s1600/P1060470.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1035" data-original-width="1291" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF5-u-eXrlisw-trEuJSk6wN_vPNbWuhAgwHO3WsdeXbjgV0i3TA-0Uh_NSK0-4iwDpq0GGkSfGhiSBxzzaPu0590LAgdjsp1Ws2fPHumoX2Qnhgmri5JVIl3hyphenhyphenGU2L4YixkI8lb_EOc9L/s640/P1060470.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finishing smile to my crew. We did it! 8.27.39.</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
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Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-12125937912887342572018-01-18T20:12:00.003-08:002018-01-18T20:12:55.848-08:00Best Day Ever: Australia Day Ultra<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's Friday morning. At midnight, I'll start running the 100km <a href="http://australiadayultra.com/" target="_blank">Australia Day Ultra</a> (road race) in Australind, Western Australia. It's the middle of summer. So midnight is a practical time to race. Unless you want Badwater training. I don't.<br />
<br />
We just had the edge of a cyclone come through, creating a few days of extreme humidity. We had our first big bushfire in the area, which destroyed one of the Bibbulmun Track's campsites and resulted in <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-01-15/mundaring-fire-hiker-narrow-escape/9331170" target="_blank">air rescue for a solo multi-day bushwalker</a>.<br />
<br />
Since the Emu 48 hour attempt at the end of September, I've done my recovery and re-built base mileage and endurance. Recovery was surely hampered (physically, but not mentally!) by deciding on a 10 hour trot up to the highest peak in Slovenia (<a href="https://photos.app.goo.gl/jTtkseuPDXORq6783" target="_blank">Triglav, 2864m</a>). Microspikes would have been helpful on the icy ridge. The descent is what really totalled my legs, though! I developed some pretty bad knee pain that was brought on by very tight muscles. Thankful to have self-assessed well enough to gauge that I should go for a few brutal massage sessions, rather than thinking I just had a grumpy patella that simply needed "rest." It came good within a few days with massage.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF6kyepotLcptwXzkhAPyQeEt2HpL2qtwPm0Kg8VTKAkxaNbcvUd_bMGxg9E4Unhwa4dnxd8Ypcsx_sYHLPVvAPaDLnKaITQNHVTVgtUdW-zvzys-PmoM-Lu7yH2PoZ5QsCwBh0BBaeOi3/s1600/GOPR1067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF6kyepotLcptwXzkhAPyQeEt2HpL2qtwPm0Kg8VTKAkxaNbcvUd_bMGxg9E4Unhwa4dnxd8Ypcsx_sYHLPVvAPaDLnKaITQNHVTVgtUdW-zvzys-PmoM-Lu7yH2PoZ5QsCwBh0BBaeOi3/s640/GOPR1067.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Headed for Triglav summit with one of my Emu race crew</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Having some solid base again, I went to a parkrun on December 9th - 5k time trial. 20m32s. Well, that's good enough to work with, I thought. Time to start hunting for a race a few months out. But... I couldn't find a single race over the next few months in Australia I was really interested in (with entries available and relatively easy to access) other than the Australia Day Ultra (ADU) on January 20th. A bit too soon, really. I even looked abroad a bit, but having just returned from months overseas, I wasn't ready for big travel again.<br />
<br />
In January 2015, I ran the ADU in 8hr32m00s. That broke the CAN and AUS W45 8hr47m54s national records (which were already held by me).<br />
<br />
A few years ago, AURA (Australian Ultrarunning Assn) amalgamated their road and track records (choosing the best of either surface as the record - removing road or track surface records for ultra events). At the same time, they decided a long-standing W45 "asterisk" performance by Lavinia Petrie (year 1992, 8.22.17) would be accepted and my 8.32.00 would be deleted. Their digging into history gave them sufficient comfort that her performance had been accurately recorded on an accurate course.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg16L6EBL9WPxEsCw7fJVo12Id-F5P269AlkIAUybTlfJAb-TXgimLiJvA4jpok_s9QLjUWk2ci9SYd8EQg8WyZlvCvB2F9hLRGWQ8k8sGA7FxjjXtUTsUdt9sc0IwDdySJNx-nH-6gPgxo/s1600/35_513683l.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="280" data-original-width="675" height="165" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg16L6EBL9WPxEsCw7fJVo12Id-F5P269AlkIAUybTlfJAb-TXgimLiJvA4jpok_s9QLjUWk2ci9SYd8EQg8WyZlvCvB2F9hLRGWQ8k8sGA7FxjjXtUTsUdt9sc0IwDdySJNx-nH-6gPgxo/s400/35_513683l.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Multiple W70 world record holder now, Lavinia Petrie continues to excel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So, despite having a shortened speed work/sharpening phase - and it being the middle of summer - I decided the 100k was still the only challenge that would sufficiently capture my attention.<br />
<br />
The current records are CAN W45 8.32.00 (me, 2015) and AUS W45 8.22.17 (Lavinia, 1992). The A grade qualifying standard for women to be accepted to a national team for World 100km Championships (Sept 2018 in Croatia) is 8.30.00. I've never applied to go to World 100k - though my age-group performances are respectable, in the open category, many (mostly younger) women at the champs can run much faster. But achieving an A grade qualifier is still an interesting personal goal. And I'm three years older than in 2015.<br />
<br />
It sounds cheesy, but it's true: I'm mildly terrified. I've been quietly (I hope!) on edge all week. I have the voice in my head that asks why, that tells me I'm stupid, that utterly freaks out. I've got one mantra after another playing in my mind to counter it.<br />
<br />
And though it seems to stress me terribly more often than not when I go into an event, I keep going. It's one of the best ways I really understand (at this point) how to approach mystery. I need to set audacious goals for myself. And then feel my way through the experience of the doubt and the fright.<br />
<br />
Running. As I've said before, it's everything and it's nothing. Of all my mantras, I think the stickiest this time around is #bestdayever. Because with that one, I just can't lose. It's a mindset.<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://my2.raceresult.com/88220/participants?lang=en#0_B1A337" target="_blank">Race day updates</a></div>
Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-72940462721723992292017-10-07T03:23:00.003-07:002017-10-07T12:51:54.262-07:00Emu 18 (not 48) Hour: When the Mystery is Complete<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I cried. But I didn't cry right away.<br />
<br />
At 4.50am Saturday, nearly 19 hours after starting the <a href="https://www.emusport.hu/en/node/113" target="_blank">Emu 48 hour race</a>, I stood in front of one of my crew persons. He handed me my usual bottle of Hammer Perpetuem. Instead of moving back into the darkness for another lap, I looked him in the eye and quietly said, "I think I'm done."<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmgatbeBjz9o9H03RUxixYZCpgGg8qQIsJhSVysJtJ5boqcG7eQCrYjRzHhC6WmcwdW-65t1XrrccIoRqnTmEzlKrWSn94Vh9olNglSdz4V0ixktkit_T3mjJW9FjcUYw0UTsrFhlVzogy/s1600/22042074_1433012326805937_8541788694312596970_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1092" data-original-width="1600" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmgatbeBjz9o9H03RUxixYZCpgGg8qQIsJhSVysJtJ5boqcG7eQCrYjRzHhC6WmcwdW-65t1XrrccIoRqnTmEzlKrWSn94Vh9olNglSdz4V0ixktkit_T3mjJW9FjcUYw0UTsrFhlVzogy/s640/22042074_1433012326805937_8541788694312596970_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">48 hour race start - a small, strong, and encouraging tribe to be amongst.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Only about 30 minutes before, I'd talked to my partner via Skype. I had wanted another opinion - someone outside of myself or crew, to provide another view of things for me. And I wanted some "Dr Google" advice.<br />
<br />
From the moment the race started, I'd been a peeing machine. By every second lap (roughly 12 minutes), I'd have the urge to go. Sometimes I'd hold on as long as 5 laps, before I felt like a 3 year old about to wee their pants. We reduced my fluid intake from 500ml/hr to 400ml/hr or less. We stopped electrolytes (I wasn't taking much anyway), in case my body was trying to pee out excess it didn't need. There was nothing else I could think to do.<br />
<br />
As I ran along in the dark, I started to reflect on the fact that the problem had actually started a few weeks prior. But I'd kept making excuses to explain it. Needing to pee 3 times during a 1 hour taper run, I'd try telling myself, "Oh, I must have had too much coffee - and it's cold out." I was sure that if I'd been out running longer, my body would have stabilised. But I also recalled how every time I walked up to town for groceries or another errand, I'd be looking for a public toilet within an hour. Urgently.<br />
<br />
So I Skyped my partner back in Perth and explained what was happening in the race and over the past two weeks.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq84s3uZ8SycdMPFvHVJHxmQ98pzVFoV6ArlytIRoCzi-MStIczgrwAu1QUAaCdZgBVmV9VEENGh0ZO9teFDUpoEpz2M5vbZFuLm4AisHf2qLZc4pd8hsKQ8baM4NmAM2TMInMWtDgwrgJ/s1600/P9290005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq84s3uZ8SycdMPFvHVJHxmQ98pzVFoV6ArlytIRoCzi-MStIczgrwAu1QUAaCdZgBVmV9VEENGh0ZO9teFDUpoEpz2M5vbZFuLm4AisHf2qLZc4pd8hsKQ8baM4NmAM2TMInMWtDgwrgJ/s640/P9290005.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early hours - the hand-off of fuel at the crew table</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
<br />
The problem was menopause. My pelvic floor muscles have changed due to decreased oestrogen. I had no idea this was a thing.<br />
<br />
For the next 20 minutes, I went around the park and contemplated. In an ultra, we can expect that things will change. Get better, get worse, get better, get worse. Change. But this was not going to change. I could no longer hold my pace, as the stops took 45-60 seconds. Once the body gets a little fatigued (say after 14 hours of running), it's necessary to change from running to standing still in a gradual manner. Stop too quickly and one can get dizzy. Similarly, to get moving again after a stop requires a gradual speeding up, as the muscles loosen again. And mentally, the feeling of urgency was killing me. Ten minutes after going to the loo, I'd have the feeling back and then have to start "holding." You know the feeling. Like really holding. Like you've waited way too long. It's that feeling. I was often eyeing off the darker spots on the course, wondering if I might have to make an "emergency" stop. Everyone noticed my fondness for the toilet block.<br />
<br />
I now knew that I could continue and nothing sinister would happen to me. I wasn't sick or injured. I had over 150km done. I had just started falling short of my plan. I calculated that even at a walk I could break at least one of the national 48 hour records I was aiming for. I had 29 hours to do less than 130km. If nothing terrible happened, I'd almost surely at least get over 300km by race end.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJse1ObbAahOLIRgOVOr83-31m8JUeXJ039hYTCa8zJE1ETB8iT3cfYydSmOr7cA8oDc1Osg9cohPvPFwVOPK4sZtserd5RU_iAsNrvrrf1XQLTRbq7XoaupLU1204TBb7CLVCSksblErW/s1600/22135366_1433161966790973_1019045377811594676_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1025" data-original-width="1600" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJse1ObbAahOLIRgOVOr83-31m8JUeXJ039hYTCa8zJE1ETB8iT3cfYydSmOr7cA8oDc1Osg9cohPvPFwVOPK4sZtserd5RU_iAsNrvrrf1XQLTRbq7XoaupLU1204TBb7CLVCSksblErW/s640/22135366_1433161966790973_1019045377811594676_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When you reach milestones like this, they punish you by making you carry a big stick for a lap ;)</td></tr>
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<br />
But that number wouldn't reflect anything near what I would be capable of otherwise. Sure, these were the cards I was dealt with on the day. Some argue that an ultra runner should persevere no matter what. But I don't need to do that. I know I could. I'm heaps strong :-) For me, the magic is not in just grabbing at a record, but in finding the true potential of my endurance. Exploring. Whether it's running 6 hours, running the 1000 km Bibbulmun Track, walking across the sub-Arctic in the winter pulling a pulk, or running 48 hours.<br />
<br />
I was not interested to know how much I could run in 48 hours with a menopausal peeing urgency. In fact, I'd kind of done the math and pretty much knew. There was no magic mystery left. I had my pot of gold for this adventure.<br />
<br />
Before the race, I had the image of a mandala come to me. I felt that my race preparation had been like the creation of a mandala. Like it was a thoughtful, detailed, beautiful, attentive effort. A mysterious beauty unfolding. To continue running felt somehow disingenuous to my body and to the spirit of my 48 hour run. Grace could only be found in honouring what was present. Humbly bowing down before it and accepting that the mandala was complete. It was time to dissolve the mandala.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBpnMfmtUBrjs6DVggh_t93gbT9JPJL403acdP3CRrTjR4Ex7N02KUAeKIZ4-CB-J9GHTtBJDWlV9WtrraJSFyv-52XK43ni8lAu10pphM4DwXDWd-x1Id9IhAaZT8m-VfitgqwkSp84pJ/s1600/072416-EMORY-086.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="467" data-original-width="700" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBpnMfmtUBrjs6DVggh_t93gbT9JPJL403acdP3CRrTjR4Ex7N02KUAeKIZ4-CB-J9GHTtBJDWlV9WtrraJSFyv-52XK43ni8lAu10pphM4DwXDWd-x1Id9IhAaZT8m-VfitgqwkSp84pJ/s640/072416-EMORY-086.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tibetan Buddhist monks dismantle a sand mandala once complete and pour the sand into a river.</td></tr>
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<br />
At 5am, my crew person and I went into our trackside cabin. I laid on the kitchen bench in my race gear, shoes on. I wanted to give myself time to change my mind. I didn't. A few times, the longing to be back out there would fill me. I would feel it viscerally in my gut. The craving. I love running. I love the mystery. But neither of those were really on offer. Stop-start running isn't running. I was craving an experience that wasn't on offer. I wanted to make something more out of something that was already complete.<br />
<br />
On Sunday at 10am, the race ended for the others. As I walked along the now-still course towards my car, pulling my suitcase, the tears came suddenly and surprisingly. I was mourning, but I couldn't name it exactly. I just let it come. I didn't try to think about it, as I hadn't really slept yet. I was in no mind for deep reflective thinking.<br />
<br />
On Monday, I climbed Triglav mountain, the highest peak in Slovenia on a perfect blue sky day. She's a beautiful peak, surrounded by so many others. I could see easily well over 120km from the top. It was a rather ambitious outing after running 153km two days prior. I still hadn't slept much. Occasionally, I felt a sadness/grief/disappointment arise, but didn't dwell on it. I just noted it and moved on.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT_iqB5Xst76_oN0clwmcdVkxOM249CNqyIkNnn90d06j5nYwIYN67x3E6S444l74UBoKAqhCS3JzeOJdM01aQ4GuoX8tz3uVlzrLJVR5EwUo9rBBY6mVAsg13j48U6fb0Gh2GmmVi4yK2/s1600/DSC_3622.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT_iqB5Xst76_oN0clwmcdVkxOM249CNqyIkNnn90d06j5nYwIYN67x3E6S444l74UBoKAqhCS3JzeOJdM01aQ4GuoX8tz3uVlzrLJVR5EwUo9rBBY6mVAsg13j48U6fb0Gh2GmmVi4yK2/s640/DSC_3622.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">30km + 2000m two days after a 153k run? Sure! Let's go up there! (Silly girl)</td></tr>
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<br />
On Wednesday night, back in Switzerland, I finally felt ready to analyse my race and take away all the lessons I could. Other than learning about oestrogen-related <a href="http://pelvichealthsolutions.ca/for-the-patient/what-is-pelvic-floor-physiotherapy/" target="_blank">pelvic floor muscle issues</a> (which can be either <a href="http://pelvichealthsolutions.ca/for-the-patient/what-is-pelvic-floor-muscle-weakness/" target="_blank">too weak</a> or <a href="http://pelvichealthsolutions.ca/for-the-patient/persistent-pelvic-pain/pelvic-floor-muscle-tightness/reverse-kegelspelvic-floor-drops/" target="_blank">too tight</a>, for starters), I learned more about the amount of fuel I need when I run so slowly and the impact my body feels on asphalt in my favourite minimal shoes. I was also reminded that I should always, always read my race-debrief notes from previous races for tips going into another race.<br />
<br />
I also learned why I cried. I cried for the loss of the mystery. And for the realisation that the mandala was complete and I had thought I could build upon the perfection of grace.<br />
<br />
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Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-63836078968517013962017-09-26T02:17:00.001-07:002017-09-26T02:17:18.794-07:00Emu 48 Hour: Creating a Mandala<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Today it struck me. The five months of training to build up my running speed and economy after 850km of sub-Arctic walking, the search for the optimal 48 hour race event, the searches for and visits to massage therapists, sports chiropractors, and physiotherapists in Australia, Canada, England, and Switzerland, the daily nutrition for my body, the recruitment of an incredible crew team for the event...everything has been like the construction of one of those beautiful sand mandalas. Admittedly, I have not looked nearly so poised, composed, or mindful throughout the process! But I aspire...always aspire :)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOAuirAzO65Fv2ktLFm7dFIEYVuWfpvdJNhinbEs12Um-X7MbNJWe3LdRk_wE21WqzvqFAf-5Vqw1fFy_LjLCAl5AjO9K2t-6-HOU8S9QmZYECG6tBiNEq8u-5Y4xQ_4PXj7EiWeRfO7hL/s1600/mandala.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOAuirAzO65Fv2ktLFm7dFIEYVuWfpvdJNhinbEs12Um-X7MbNJWe3LdRk_wE21WqzvqFAf-5Vqw1fFy_LjLCAl5AjO9K2t-6-HOU8S9QmZYECG6tBiNEq8u-5Y4xQ_4PXj7EiWeRfO7hL/s400/mandala.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tibetan Buddhist sand mandala being created</td></tr>
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<div>
Running for me is often an active meditation. It's a way I experience a calmness of being present in the moment. There is no <i>before</i> or <i>after</i> - just <i>now</i>. But I make no claims that it's always like that! And it took a few years of building up fitness to where I wasn't <i>always </i>just focused on the future - getting to that next hilltop or street light - or just getting home to drink that beer!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I find that running in what might be thought of as "challenging" circumstances gives me a superb opportunity to practice the skill of being in the present moment. There's a curiosity within me. To find a flow and stay in it, but somehow without trying. If I grasp at any particular mental state, I'm guaranteed suffering - either it isn't quite as I imagined it or it doesn't last as long as I want or or or....<br />
<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1OdatGEYGFJIi1MwNyIvV6QA2UMSXrwYWTGasumTvx6bi8_YDYZ02ZhMsD0RsCP0U2Uo6hvV-V69JA4VqJUoz7XDpbldqPjU8bMV38Ar4hgUWfWuYTvI5uNXBKI1CE0jP2Hz3c_BqBKJI/s1600/DSC_3557.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1OdatGEYGFJIi1MwNyIvV6QA2UMSXrwYWTGasumTvx6bi8_YDYZ02ZhMsD0RsCP0U2Uo6hvV-V69JA4VqJUoz7XDpbldqPjU8bMV38Ar4hgUWfWuYTvI5uNXBKI1CE0jP2Hz3c_BqBKJI/s640/DSC_3557.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The suffering of grasping at the right shoes to wear. At least it's not a colour choice ;)</td></tr>
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A mandala is a symbol. It can be a symbol of the (a?) universe. It can be a symbol of a quality or principle, like compassion or wisdom. It can be an offering.<br />
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This weekend, I'm off to Hungary, one of my ancestral lands, to run around in circles for 48 hours, gratefully supported by two adventurous people. I have goals - national record-breaking goals, maybe even a world age best goal - but I also have a goal to not be caught chasing and grasping at the goals. Not to chase, but not to refrain from chasing. To see if I can notice that the experience I'm "having" is actually the experience I'm "being." Enjoyment without preconception. A dance like no one's watching.<br />
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In other words, to have the #bestdayever. I'll start with today :)<br />
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<b>The Nuts and Bolts:</b><br />
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<i>Time: </i>Friday 10am (Central European Summer Time) - Sunday 10am<br />
<i>Perth time: </i>Friday 4pm start <i>Calgary and Moose Jaw time: </i>Friday 2am start<br />
<i>Location:</i> <a href="https://goo.gl/maps/gSJfATj5ycy" target="_blank">Füred Camping, H-8230 Balatonfüred, Széchenyi u. 24.</a> (Balatonfured/Lake Balaton, Hungary)<br />
<i>Circuit:</i> 926.82 metre "round," with plenty of trees and shade in a campground/park setting<br />
<i>Accommodation:</i> Two bedroom cabins for each runner & crew "track-side"<br />
<i>Forecast:</i> 6-8 degrees C by night and 18-19 C by day, no rain, light breezes<br />
<i>Will I sleep?</i> Planned 20 minute catnap if needed on day 2<br />
<i>Crew: </i>2 amazing people, JC and Anna. JC has crewed me before. They're both athletes.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHa4Oqdfp6VSkwvDzctqQSqw2k9mlxH9Bp57Taa4HSjj4fsP45GD9D5I7avAkXozF3uJ8s-6kaK_7nkt2l1RjwgEtXz-QBvyzWB6Gb2cfuUGtIaJsKleRto-w5itw4fMs1lDhwwXw-Mm9f/s1600/Capture.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="426" data-original-width="619" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHa4Oqdfp6VSkwvDzctqQSqw2k9mlxH9Bp57Taa4HSjj4fsP45GD9D5I7avAkXozF3uJ8s-6kaK_7nkt2l1RjwgEtXz-QBvyzWB6Gb2cfuUGtIaJsKleRto-w5itw4fMs1lDhwwXw-Mm9f/s640/Capture.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>How do you follow?</b><br />
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<a href="http://www.emusport.hu/en/klub/emu-sport-tv-en" target="_blank">Live broadcast link</a> - scrolling down on that video page should also show real-time (within seconds) standings/distances run for all athletes<br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/emu6day/" target="_blank">Facebook for news and photos</a> - they have a 6 day race each May - don't be thrown off by the "6 day" name. This particular event includes only 24hr (starts Saturday) and 48hr<br />
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In between watching people run around in circles on your computer, you might find one of these links of value:<br />
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<a href="http://www.richroll.com/category/podcast/" target="_blank">Rich Roll podcasts</a><br />
<a href="https://youtu.be/79zra755WgA" target="_blank">Saying YES to Your Weirdness YouTube video by JP Sears</a><br />
<a href="https://smilingmind.com.au/" target="_blank">Smiling Mind website and Australian-based free mindfulness meditation app</a> for all ages<br />
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Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9085073287622660650.post-28157856003024453872017-04-16T01:18:00.000-07:002017-04-16T01:18:37.815-07:00Yukon Quest: The After Story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Thanks to the #yukonquestbyfoot, I have a new skill. I can now leave the dirty dishes by the sink all night. Yup, that's right. I'm serious. I can let them sit there piling up all day and then tuck myself into bed and fall asleep easily, whilst all those dirty dishes sit by the sink.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRbbt88AbPjdM0_cCBotkklVa0D9ahUbiU2cOuLAU7iFgZ4_1ZsxkbP0roK_QtswzpXHndc0Lq2I2utZ-wdXOKajGqCfc7B62zU-O0V2ruKg1u_zo5Aozn9QPmyAjp_unLNWM-XDIf0CFk/s1600/27700481.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRbbt88AbPjdM0_cCBotkklVa0D9ahUbiU2cOuLAU7iFgZ4_1ZsxkbP0roK_QtswzpXHndc0Lq2I2utZ-wdXOKajGqCfc7B62zU-O0V2ruKg1u_zo5Aozn9QPmyAjp_unLNWM-XDIf0CFk/s320/27700481.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This guy needs to go winter thru-hiking. Then he'll learn what a bad time is! ;)</td></tr>
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And that's not all. Sometimes, I wake up in the morning when this has happened, and I eat my breakfast <i>before</i> I do the dishes. I can just turn my back to the dishes and eat my yummy cereal. My favourite meal of the day - with Udo's Oil, soy yoghurt, cinnamon, and chia or hemp hearts. Oops, sorry, I digress. I <i>loooove</i> breakfast!<br />
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The Yukon has given me a great gift in this new flexibility.<br />
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Maybe you were born with the gene that lets you leave your dishes unwashed, your clean laundry sitting in the hamper, or your car floor full of rubbish. I was not. I think this same gene allows people to leave emails in their inbox for more than a day, too.<br />
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A lot of my suffering in life, I have noticed, is when I rail against what is. When I have made a story in my head of what should happen next, of the way I think things should go. At times, I make tough situations or experiences worse through my intolerance to accept what is present - the inflexibility to go with the flow.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Starting at the lower right, I travelled northwest towards the Alaskan border</td></tr>
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In the Yukon, I experienced a lot and I emoted a lot. My journey of 40 days took me physically from Whitehorse, Yukon Territory to the Alaskan border, 530 miles (850km) northwest. Emotionally, I think I went a lot further.<br />
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I experienced temperatures ranging from about -42C to +2C. The weather was erratic this winter, with extreme highs followed by extreme lows. I started in a low and gave myself a bit of a scare. I got my mojo back and made it to Day 12, when the temperatures started to plummet again towards another -42 degree spell. I came off the trail and went to volunteer for the Yukon Quest sled dog race. It was a perfect fit, given the trail I was thru-hiking. I hitchhiked up and down the Klondike Highway with pulky for a week or so, whilst we helped the Quest race happen.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTCQEE50xdkkXs_Wy03MJwLEwMOfS8YjSZZKoZLFp3RmF4oi3pWr5_0gbW-itvx3R-yj53Qu-M2hN5-EnE2JtOzZkiv0oWKKPgIpsmccSanJezNf35yXHzKZNtimjL9KCiyqAOcByz87j9/s1600/P1310190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTCQEE50xdkkXs_Wy03MJwLEwMOfS8YjSZZKoZLFp3RmF4oi3pWr5_0gbW-itvx3R-yj53Qu-M2hN5-EnE2JtOzZkiv0oWKKPgIpsmccSanJezNf35yXHzKZNtimjL9KCiyqAOcByz87j9/s640/P1310190.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day 12. The trail crossed the Klondike Highway and I chose to stop before the next -40C spell.</td></tr>
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Once the race passed, the weather started to break (-20 to -25C), so I found myself back out on the trail on Day 22. The weather slowly warmed more, but sunk again by the time I reached Dawson. I sat it out again a few days before I filled pulky with 6 more days of food and made my way to the border.<br />
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So many experiences, from northern lights to lynx sightings to pulling all-nighters volunteering for the racing mushers, to stove malfunctions, to soaked feet, to drinking snowmobile-exhaust-laden water. I have enough memories and a diary large enough to write a book from.<br />
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For now, though, I'm doing up a series of short videos. As of writing this, two videos are up on YouTube - the "<a href="https://youtu.be/QNiJycVQC0s" target="_blank">Freakin' Miserable Start</a>" and "<a href="https://youtu.be/WJYToQkSm5s" target="_blank">From Cold to Carmacks</a>." Part 3 in the series will include my leaving the trail at the next cold snap, volunteering for the Quest, and the angst of wanting to get back on the trail again but without the extreme cold. I expect 5 videos will get me to Alaska!<br />
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In the weeks since I've been back in Perth, Australia, I've been teaching my lungs, heart, and tendons how to run again, getting tight muscles loosened with massage, and trying to remember that delicious feeling of peace that comes with letting go.<br />
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#yukonquestbyfoot was everything I hoped for. The competition with myself against my own weaknesses was one I couldn't really lose. It was just a matter of how good the PB would be.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCLaq2cChgy0WN5AXlejABnOCBj5NI_SylnTyIIAW2XPMYyr89EW85I2Noj6hUKgXgyRW66xOswh2NMBpmVY-_OA8Bxgp1xwlO1Md1AG8VeVX04fRJQfwubWxbvEN1W22nWtpNDfA0tVQ8/s1600/P2170371.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCLaq2cChgy0WN5AXlejABnOCBj5NI_SylnTyIIAW2XPMYyr89EW85I2Noj6hUKgXgyRW66xOswh2NMBpmVY-_OA8Bxgp1xwlO1Md1AG8VeVX04fRJQfwubWxbvEN1W22nWtpNDfA0tVQ8/s640/P2170371.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise Day 29 with the moon still up. Exposed camp, but wind stayed down all night. Magic.</td></tr>
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Hopefully, I'll take my mental development "PB" on to race a 48 hour event in the coming months.<br />
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Bernadette Bensonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02395370031916207980noreply@blogger.com3