"The goal is to become the unique, awesome, never to be repeated human being that we were called to be." -Patricia Deegan

Monday, May 27, 2013

It's Soy Complicated: The Two Faces of Soy

Much loved and much maligned. Soy has been touted as an amazing health food promoting the longevity of Asians and as a danger that will cause men to grow breasts.


The area is so complicated that I've reviewed it three times before in my life, concluding once to go on, once to go off, then again to go back on. Lately, I've been hearing the "vibe" again that it's a dangerous food I should avoid ... as a human, a female, and an athlete.

It was time to review the data again. I pulled my sleeves up, dug my arms in up to my elbows, and read several blogs and websites, primarily for reference to peer reviewed research, which is what I focused my analysis on. Yesterday I read about 20 studies, published from sources as wide ranging as a Master thesis in pharmacy on anti-nutrients in peas, to the Journal of Nutrition's "Inhibition of Human and Rat Pancreatic Proteinases by Crude and Purified Soybean Proteinase Inhibitors," to the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition's "Soy Protein, Phytate, and Iron Absorption in Humans," to the Journal of Nutritional Science and Vitaminology's "Trypsin Inhibitor Activity in Commercial Soybean Products in Japan."

Here's what I found:

Soy is a bean. A legume, precisely. Other legumes include other beans of course (kidney, lima, etc), peas, lentils, alfalfa, clover, carob, and peanuts. Coffee technically isn't a bean, it's a seed from a fruit - so coffee drinkers don't have to panic about anything here! :)

Trypsin (the knife), breaking up big protein molecules!
Soybeans and other legumes contain something called trypsin inhibitors. So, they inhibit trypsin...and trypsin is?? It's a enzyme in your body. And what's an enzyme? Enzymes are basically proteins that act as a catalyst for some chemical reaction in your body. In this case, we're talking about an enzyme that is secreted by the pancreas to help your body digest food. Trypsin breaks down protein when it reaches the small intestine into smaller protein bits (like a "meat cleaver" of sorts) so that the protein is small enough to get absorbed through the intestine and thus to nourish our body/muscles.

They figure these plants contain trypsin inhibitors (TI's) in order to help protect them from insects and the like - to help their survival. A big concern, therefore, with eating soybeans (including soy milk and tofu), is that if the TIs in the soybeans reach your small intestine, they will shut down your body's production of trypsin and the protein "chunks" you've eaten will leave your body partly undigested because they're too big to be absorbed by your body. You won't get all the protein out of the soy you're eating. Or, let's say you are eating a stir fry with two protein sources - chicken and tofu...the TI in the tofu would shut down trypsin in the small intestine and neither chicken nor tofu protein would be digested completely. Thus, as a human and particularly as an athlete who needs protein in recovery, I would be compromised in my protein intake. I might think I'm getting 15 grams, but what is digested/absorbed will be less (how much less, I cannot find from studies, as almost all are based on the growth of farm animals eating peas and such - or rats who were fed only soy, which is unrealistic, as humans don't only eat soy!).

This seems to be a valid concern. Looking at the information out there, this is real science and not a made up scare tactic by the beef or dairy industry. However, agriculturalists have been aware for decades of this issue with legumes and they know many methods for destroying TIs in order to ensure animals raised for meat maximise growth. Despite the fact that it's been a known "concern" for decades amongst the farming/agricultural industries, why hasn't it been a worldwide issue for human health? Like telling us that death cap mushrooms and belladonna (nightshade) berries are deadly. There must be a reason it's not on the list of dangerous/deadly "foods!"

Getting overwhelmed? Chill out and look at the cute bunny.
First of all, it is possible to destroy the TIs in legumes. You essentially just need to process the legume somehow. Because these enzyme inhibitors are proteins themselves, they are easily denatured by heat. Germination (soaking/sprouting), fermentation (miso, natto, soy sauce are all fermented soy products), and cooking destroy the majority of TIs. Granted, soybeans contain some of the highest levels of TIs of any legume, so it takes more to destroy more...I saw studies mentioning cooking for 10 minutes reduced TIs to 11% and 20 minutes reduced TIs to 5-10%. A study of commercial soy products in Japan showed that various types of tofu had 2.5 - 7.9% TIs left, soymilk had 13% of TIs left, and natto, soy sauce, and miso all had under 1% of TIs in them.

So, for those who eat fermented forms of soy, looks like we're in the clear for potential negative impact of TIs. Yet, are TIs all bad? Did you know that human breast milk has TIs in it? I didn't. But it's obviously there for good reason.

Now, what about those of us who drink soy milk - a non-fermented soybean product? Well, soy milk that comes in those tetra packs is UHT - ultra high temperature treated. That's over 135 degrees C for 1-2 seconds. Heat inactivates TIs, but it seems the very short heating time for this process isn't enough to inactivate all the TIs (i.e., the study that showed 13% remaining).

Does that mean we need to give up soy milk? Is 13% significant? Well, for me, moderation prevails. First, I need to look at any potential benefits I get from soy. Soybeans are a good source of omega 3 fatty acids, iron, and protein for non-fish and/or non-meat eaters. They contain fibre. Consumption of soy has been linked to decreased risk of coronary heart disease, decreased LDL and total cholesterol, decreased risk of osteoporosis and diabetes, and decreased risks of many types of cancer. And decreased symptoms of menopause in women.

Ahhhh, now that takes us to Big Issue #2 with Soy. The claim: It will make men infertile and grow breasts! Is it true? Well, although the meta-analysis (review of all relevant literature) linked in the last sentence says no, I found a wee bit of evidence for the "no soy" camp - a case study of a man who was consuming 3 quarts of soy milk per day. That's just about 3 litres. He developed a swollen breast area, yup, and erectile dysfunction. But as soon as he stopped, his man boobs disappeared and he had no apparent lasting effects. Lesson? Don't eat 12 servings per day for a year.
Doubtfully the real gynecomastia medical condition - just adipose tissue (fat!)

Why the claim that men shouldn't eat soy and this stuff about man boobs? Well, that's because soybeans also contain "phyto-oestrogens." Phyto (plant) oestrogens can apparently mimic human oestrogen under "certain circumstances" (I didn't get into this, I had enough to review) but they are "1000 times less potent" than the oestrogen hormone in the body. And ... news flash for those men who didn't know...all men have oestrogen in their bodies...on purpose. It's normal and functional. For those men who won't eat soy because they are afraid of some loss of manhood, you might have to re-think much of your diet. Phyto-oestrogens, because they're in plants, are therefore also found in oats, wheat, corn, barley (beer!), rye, lentils, flax, sunflower, sesame, olives/oil, almonds, and chick peas. Hmmmm. The diet could get rather restrictive.

Big Issue #3 with soy - it contains phytates. Crap. Another big word. Isn't it easier just to read someone's link on Facebook about soy and accept their post (either for or against) as truth? Especially if it's in bright colours with a big headline? Yes, it is. But easy and wise aren't always the same. It's easier to lay on the sofa rather than go for a run, too, but we don't pick that, either. Okay, so you've decided to stay with me. Let's find out what a phytate is.
Relax. Kittens and puppies. Ahhh, now back to the research!

Phytate is the major storage form of phosphorous for plants. Cool. Easy. Humans don't get phosphorous out of these plants, though, because we aren't ruminants (we don't have the extra stomach compartment to vomit and re-chew our "cud" like a cow can). Thus, that plant phosphorous goes right through us. That's okay. The problem is actually that phytates (the salt form of phytic acid), binds to minerals (zinc and iron, and less to the macro minerals calcium and magnesium) as it passes through our bodies and keeps it from being absorbed. Damn. That's not good at all. It's stealing my minerals! This is, as I understand it, why the paleo proponents don't want you eating grains, nuts, and seeds. Yet, phytates aren't classified as anti-nutrients. Why not? Because they are potent anti-oxidants. At lower levels, phytic acid reduces blood glucose and/or plasma cholesterol and triglycerides. Phytic acid, just like protease inhibitors (another name for the TI above), and phyto-oestrogens, reduce cancer risks, including colorectal cancer and breast cancer and the formation of kidney stones. This is important. UNDIGESTED phytate in the colon (the very thing some say should be bad), appears to exert a protective factor against colon, endometrial, ovarian, and other cancers - the phytate is taken up by any malignant cells in the body, which changes them. Ahhh, a balance - yin and yang. Gee, so maybe humans do need some phytates!


And, plants also have phytase in them, the enzyme that neutralises the phytates. You can activate the enzyme by sprouting, soaking, or fermenting the nut/grain/seed. (The reason you see some people keen on "sprouted" breads). And it's also well known that you can mitigate the "binding" effects on minerals such as iron by eating ascorbic acid (vitamin C) with the meal...that is, throw something like red capsicums in with your stir fry/lentil stew. But it sounds like we don't want to lose all the phytates, anyway, as they are essential anti-oxidants with what appear to be remarkable cancer fighting properties. And, personally, as a mostly vegetarian with a pretty high intake of plants (lentils, quinoa, beans, etc), all my bloodwork and my recent calcium absorption testing have all shown normal values. The only issue I've ever had is with iron and that remains stable with supplements. And the research I reviewed all reported the same thing - the only time malnutrition is seen in humans is in societies with very high plant intake and very low nutrient intake...like impoverished people living in refugee camps. This is not a problem seen in everyday society.

The final word? Again, moderation. I'm sure if you ate 12 servings of chia a day or 12 steaks a day, bad things would happen to your guts and overall nutrition as well. Soybeans, along with other plants/legumes, appear to have their role in our overall health. The only people who should consider avoiding soybeans? Those with an allergy, obviously, and perhaps those with hypothyroidism/iodine deficiencies. And what is a serve of soy? 1 cup of milk or ~115g of tofu. Go on, have some. And sprinkle some cinnamon into that soy latte or turmeric on the tofu ;)

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Mind Under Matter: World Championships 2013

Four days before World 24 Hour Championships - I'm staring at my roommate, my partner, and my crew. One and the same. Finally, I saw the thing we've been trying to ignore. "I can't believe you're allowing yourself to get a cold at Worlds!" He replies, "I can't believe I'm allowing myself to get a cold at Worlds!"

I am trapped in the confined spaces of car and bedroom with a walking virus. I buy raspberries, berry smoothies, turmeric, and cinnamon. All my food is based around antioxidants, anti-inflammatories, and anti-virals. We arrive in Steenbergen and he wants to hold hands on our romantic European vacation. Not likely!
The team, minus Rick, with our young Dutch flag bearer

Race morning comes and I feel relaxed and ready to run, prepared for the inclement weather. The model shows showers, wind, and 15 degrees, deteriorating to what might feel like 3 degrees if a storm comes through the night.

I start with a plan for only 400ml/hr of water with my Perpetuem fuel. It's cold and I'm running "slowly" (5.25-5.30 min/k pace). I'll take extra sips of water if needed. Despite the low volume of fluid, I start peeing every 2.3k lap. Volumes. As far as I understand, my blood is trying to thicken to warm my core. I'm running in a 200 weight Icebreaker thermal with my light race tech shirt over top. My legs are fine in shorts and compression calf guards. I'm testing a new 24hr shoe - the Inov-8 f-lite 240s. I was meant to run a 6hr in them but that didn't happen, so the most they've done at once is 32k. Despite the shoes being a full size too big (I'll swell into them), they are so "minimal" feeling that they contour well to my foot like a ballet slipper over top. My feet aren't sliding around. I'm happy and smiling. 3 hours in my right addy tightens for a while, but I focus on form and it abates.

4 1/2 hours in and low level nausea begins. I have flashbacks to Commonwealths 2011, but know my iron levels are fine and my fuel is fresh. It takes me a few hours to figure it out. Slight overfueling, due to the laps being 12.5 minutes (I usually feed every 15 minutes). I am also slightly dehydrated, which is ironic, considering the amount I'm still peeing. My body must be fighting a war between warmth (thicken the blood) and hydration.
Ewan passing by, two Aussies and their Perp bottles!

I try a few sips of Gingerale at 7 hours. Simple sugars. Stupid idea. Turns out it might also have gluten in it. I get cramps in my gut for the next hour.

The nauseous feeling is further helped along by the muscle spasms that start in my right mid back. Whenever I get a bad backache, it always makes me feel like puking; I think it spasms around the ribcage. I'm running and trying to self-massage my right mid back. Awkward, but feels fantastic to dig into the knot. I don't think it's a coincidence that it's the right side, when the laps are all clockwise - unlike a track race, we don't get to change directions every 4 hours.

Finally, around 9.5 hours, I come out of the "bad patch." It gets dark between 9.30 - 10 PM. Race officials start going around the back 1.5km with tea candles in glass jars, placing them every 10 metres or so. This is what they are calling a "well lit" course. The candles are mostly put on the outside lane, too, which makes them even less helpful. They're pretty, but. Mother nature confirms this by dumping rain on us and the jars of candles, which all go out - except for about 15 candles, which an official smartly placed sideways in the jars (that is, jars laying on their sides), with the opening away from the wind.

Darkness has brought one great joy, though. The "loudspeaker assault system," a non-stop barrage of announcements over the loudspeakers all around the course, has been turned off for residents to sleep. The brass bands playing traditional music have packed up and gone home. All around the course, the athletes seem to be revelling in the silence. We ask each other when it will start again in the morning.
Just two blokes here, but they've got LOUD speakers & enthusiasm!

The noise completely messed with my mojo all day. I am highly sensitive to sound and very easily overstimulated. Typically before a race I appear "aloof" as I avoid pasta parties and other runners generally who are hyped up before the event.

Despite all the personal challenges, I pass Helen Stanger's AUS 12hr W40 road record (112.225k) around 11 hours. I am just below target pace, but don't yet realise it. Rolf is too busy trying to crew 2 people to monitor my splits closely. After another lap, I do some maths and realise I have fallen off pace (not surprising, given all the pee stops!). My next goals are the Canadian 12hr W40 record (120.800k) and the AUS open 12hr road record (123.070k). The long 2.3k laps make record-breaking an extra challenge, as there's no mat at the halfway point. So my 12 hour distance for record purposes will be recorded as the point I cross the one and only mat before 12 hours has lapsed. My maths tell me that I'll have to run really hard to get to 54 laps (~125k) to surpass the AUS open record. Such a push will almost certainly destroy my ability to run well for another 12 hours. I pass the CAN 12hr W40 mark and decide I have to let go of the AUS open record, although I unofficially pass the distance within 12 hours, between laps. Officially, I get recorded at 122.649k.

Achieving two records at the 12 hour mark, I announce to crew that I'm coming in for a reward break. This isn't in the plan at all. But the brutally dark, cobblestoned, and otherwise rough course, accompanied by rain and wind, has beaten me up mentally. I'm aware that I went through days of adversity on the Bibbulmun FKT, but am finding this one more difficult. I think my "mind over matter" edge is missing. The stressful lead up to the event (my burnout) is one factor. And the crowds of people, music, and noise all day - the silence and solitude of the Bib made it much easier for me to cope and mass mental energy. I'm running too much "outside" myself.
Fuel hand-off. Pocket shorts were handy!

After a 20 minute sook (sulk) break, I get back out there. My next mini-goal is the 100 mile mark, though that seems like forever. 40 more km.

We add a chunk of pear to my fuel each lap, which I love. At 2 am, I find myself getting too cold, though I added a Montane lightweight running jacket and Icebreaker gloves hours ago. My hand freezes in my soaked glove when I have to hold the Perpetuem bottle of cold fuel, so I tuck it into my sleeve and run with a crooked wrist to hold it there. I end up with a terrible pain in the front of my upper arm/shoulder above the armpit and can only think it's related to that.

I pop into the medico/massage building, have yet another pee, and try to warm my hands. I run back to the crew table and say I am too cold. Although I feel warm enough in the core, my hands are freezing, so we need to try warming my core more. I add another 200 weight Icebreaker and a 320 weight vest. The Montane jacket goes back over top, with hood. I put on my 200 weight Icebreaker bottoms, which requires shoes to come off. It's a long stop - easily another 20 minutes lost. It could have been shorter, but I'm wasting time getting back out there. I do another lap and joke how hard it is to run fast dressed as the Michelin Man. I should have just gained fat for warmth ;)

My pace has been slower than planned since the 12 hour mark, too. However, I close in on the 100 mile mark and officials record an accurate time. I've yet to get it, but it should be around 17h 25m. This surpasses Helen Stanger's AUS 100 mile W40 road record of 18.13.11.

My opinion of things around hour 21
I stop after the 100 mile mark for another unplanned "reward break" (aka sook/sulk). I change my shoes - putting on one of my former long road/track standbys - the Saucony Fastwitch. I do it just because I'm hoping "a change is as good as a vacation." One AUS runner told me once that when he changed shoes it felt like he had new legs, running on pillows. For me, however, switching into the Fastwitch is like putting blocks of wood underfoot. And they fit more poorly - less conforming - so I get top of foot pain and have to re-lace the left shoe later to take the pressure off.

I aim for 200k - the next reward mark. What would I do without these mini-goals for this race?? I am inspired by the strength of my AUS teammates and others still out on the course - my record attempts seem to give me a reason to push on through such brutal running conditions. Sure, I've been in worse, but not in a World 24hr road championship.

The crew works to keep us cheerful, fueled, and warm, to get us running laps - all the while themselves freezing in the cold and working with power outages every 20-30 minutes, as the generator at the event can't cope with the load. It hails briefly between rain showers.

The announcements and music start up again about 8 am. Instead of hearing the names Lizzie Hawker, Mami Kudo, and Yiannos Kouros nonstop, we hear more of Mami Kudo, Jon Olsen, and Wilma Dierx. Lizzie retired somewhere in the night. Mami is on world record breaking pace. Jon Olsen moves to lead male. Wilma is a local Dutch favourite, set to break a Dutch record. About 9.30 am and 192k, I get a whiff of the 200k goal approaching. I need to get within myself. I find a one word mantra, create a visualisation to go with it, and my pace picks up. I repeat the mantra and keep up the visualisation.
Part of race course - cobbles! ack!

I get an official 200k split time recorded, though haven't received it yet (~22h 20m). This surpasses Helen Stanger's W40 road record of 23.21.04, but I'm far in arrears of plan now. I toy with running the bare minimum to surpass the CAN and AUS W40 24hr records, which are 205-206k. Six km in 1.5 hours sounds heavenly. But I'm almost running mad now. I pass the AUS team manager and announce I'm going  to break another three records, as it's the only way I can accept having run such a brutal race. Although the "anger" temporarily buoys me, it's not a lasting fuel - it's like a simple sugar. Spike, then crash. So I get back to my mantra and visuals...more like a good maltodextrin blend with a nice, sustained burn.

I pass the W40 records with about 1 hour to go. The final goal - the open CAN 24hr record of 211.167k. Two and a half laps later, on the far side of the course, to no fan fare, I pass that point. I feel a wave of emotion, but stifle it, as it will not help now. I push on another 3 laps, trying to work my way through an increasingly crowded course. Spectators and residents are now walking along our "closed" course. A family with a dog that wanders out in front of a couple of us gets a few pleading words from me. "Please watch the dog - we're too tired to move!" Runners at 23.5 hours have lost their zig and their zag.

Most runners pick up their nation's flag from crew and are slowing down, enjoying a gentle last lap. The crew area is lined with crews and spectators on both sides now, narrowing the road to one tight space that barely gives room for one to pass. I yell out to ask for more space. My race isn't done yet. I am trying to redeem what I can out of my day.

Last lap with the stick!
We have been given wooden sticks with our number on them to drop at the sound of the gun. A Belgian bloke next to me refuses to take his block or a flag, so his crew run alongside him, as he tries to match my pace. It's quite disruptive, as he's running right next to me with them pleading (I assume) nonstop to him to take the things. He's working hard and won't have a bar of it. The officials finally spot the crew and tell them to get off the course. I'm impressed with their running, as they continue to follow and plead from the side, having to dodge lampposts, railings, kerbs, and bystanders.

I finish with 216.343k and a few tears are shed. Rolf runs up the street, bringing a spare jacket. It's over. We slowly walk back towards the crew zone, picking up a few more Aussies along the way, looking at the carnage of runners sitting and laying on the road, wrapped in jackets, sleeping bags, and space blankets.

So, in review? I know I didn't run my best. I took 3 x 20+ minute sook breaks. I went into the race just starting to recover from the stress of burnout. My mental prep was terrible. Whether or how much it affected my race, I cannot know, but I expect it highly likely to have had a negative effect on my will. Coupled with the noise, rough surface, and inclement weather, it made a combination that resulted in some personal disappointment. Of course, I do say personal disappointment, because Mami Kudo successfully broke the world 24hr road record in these conditions - so it was good running for some. Things I am happy with? Fuel/nutrition, shoes (the first pair), foot care (no blisters), and race plan. Things I would change? (that I have control over) Pre-race stress levels/load. And if I could find a way, I'd have a team massage therapist present.

Saturday, May 4, 2013

Je Maintiendrai

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

I even have my own monogram! ;) 

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

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

Monday, April 29, 2013

A Partial Engine Rebuild Whilst Preparing for Worlds

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The 40k "hernia" run
22-28 April: 77k +1000mtr. More speedwork and long tempos. Still enjoying the hill runs midweek and weekend. Running has been a joy throughout the "engine rebuild" time. It's often the only time I feel real happiness in the day. Weekly massage and physio continue. Get back to the gym for a "real" brutal training session, finally. Paper cup ice massage saves the legs many times over. Minor setback in recovery. Bought the wrong set of rings and seals. Not ready to cruise the highways yet! Focus more on my diet - things I can do to help myself. More Udo's Oil, more avocados, kale, yams, turmeric on everything. Get an opportunity to check out the Alter-G anti-gravity treadmill (more to come on that!) Slowly transitioning to a higher-fat-lower-carb diet (who'd have thought I'd be advocating fat!).

29 April. Resting heart rate glimpses back down to 35-36. Cortisol levels appear to be better. Oh yeah, time to start scrubbing the oil out from under my fingernails! Things are coming together! Push lawn mower and yard work for strength training. Blog. Make notes of "to-do" for Worlds...including my race pace calculations and food plan that must be written.
At least I can't fall off the back of this one!

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

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

A New Injury

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part of last week's 126k +3300mtr training for World 24s
I have resigned as vice president of AURA, as I discovered all too late that "an association like that can take as much as you can give" (thanks, Evan, for the tip!). I loved my involvement in the sport in that role and trying to make a contribution to better the sport nationally and internationally for all ultra runners... but I just couldn't find my "off" switch. There was always something else that could be done and I was damned well going to try to do it.

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

Anyone else out there need riding lessons?

Friday, March 22, 2013

Teaching an Old Dog a New Trick: Chasing Bikes

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

I needed a replacement race.

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

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

Matilda Bay - around to the yachts for the turn-around point
Back to google.

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

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

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

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

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

Pointed back towards the finish line. Past the CBD. Don't look that far ahead!
Based on predictions, I should be capable of something between 2hr24m30s and 2hr25m30s. I figured I'd aim to hold just under a 4.30 pace and if I thought there was too much still in the tank with 5 or 10km to go (ha ha, but let's be optimistic), I'd pick it up a wee bit. Just in case there was a 2hr20 in there somewhere ;)

Well, there wasn't!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2:25:25.

Time for a trail run.

Thursday, March 7, 2013

All Trained up and Nowhere to go

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

28th Feb: Masters 10k State champ :-) 
According to a formula I believe was developed by Jack Daniels, that means I'll lose 5 to 9 seconds per kilometre (more as the heat climbs through the morning).

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

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

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

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

10k State Masters - these people have taught me a lot
Yes, I'm lucky to have this simple little problem. I'm lucky it's not injury. I'm lucky it's not cancer or heart disease. I'm lucky I don't live in a war-torn country. I'm lucky my family and friends love me.

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

Now, I'll find somewhere to go.