Kep Ultra 75k: A Dance With Exertion

The Kep Ultra wasn't in my racing diary until about 10 days before the event. My plan after World 24hr was a month of recovery and then rebuilding. But after only running 100k in the mid-April event, I had fresher legs than expected and that bad taste in my mouth that a bad race can leave. It was a quick re-writing of a program to prep for the event!

Fortunately, I was privileged to be able to enter the popular sold-out race, having been a previous 100k event winner. I chose the 75k because I haven't run that option before. I like to do different races - though only 7km of the course is actually different to the 100k course, it would certainly be done at a speedier pace. So that's different, too ;)

Ice possible in Perth?!? Silly car.

It was a great feeling to be excited about and looking forward to an event. I hadn't had that feeling in a while. Though I try to keep those feelings tempered, as too much excitement can mess with my head.

I wrote my splits and nutrition plan gave it to Rolf, my crew. I wrote my affirmations down on paper and read them and thought of them regularly. I painted my toes. I wanted to write my "daring" time goal on them, but debated. Even though no one could see my toes, it would be there. Should I just write something more guaranteed? More safe? I paused with the permanent marker for a few moments. I thought perhaps of writing nothing and just leaving the "DARE" on the left foot. But it's not really daring to not follow through with that right foot, is it? So on it went, "6.30." A stretch, according to the number crunching science I'd done, but one that I could still aim for.

My personal dare. A 6hr30 finish. That would take 43 minutes off the CR.

7 am start. Such a fresh morning that Rolf's vehicle gave him a helpful "ice possible" warning (in Perth, seriously? That car doesn't know where it is!). I headed off with the front of the pack at near a 4.30 pace. As we settled into the first 600 metres and the group spread out further, I counted the blokes making a gap ahead. 12. I wondered how many I'd catch after Wooroloo (43k). In the next km, two more blokes came past. 14. One of the 75k girls ran near me to the first aid station, Clackline, at 19k. We were a close group of about 4 coming in.

Rolf the one-man pit crew was ready. I dropped my pack and gloves and threw on the one he handed me. I called out, "In and out!" to the aid station vollies and was gone. I was on my split time and running solidly but still easy enough (no high heart rate allowed this early in the dance).

It's 24km to the next aid station, Wooroloo. 2 hours. Thus, I had to carry more water, which I instantly felt on my back. I dug into the joy that is a peeled pear, before getting back to the long-burning fuel of Hammer Perpetuem. Rolf was able to pop in along the trail at a few points to take photos, which he couldn't do at aid stations, as they're too quick and all hands are needed to negotiate caps, packs, and such :)

I hit Wooroloo on target. Always hoping I might get to bank a minute (just one measly minute) that could be a cushion near the finish, that minute couldn't be found. I'd wrung out tight splits! Any harder and I'd blow myself up.

Wooroloo was another non-stop transition. 1 hour 41 planned to the next checkpoint, Mt Helena. But the increasing heat of the day meant I needed the same amount of water as last time. There's a long insidious climb from Wooroloo for 6km. In 2012, that's where I passed 3 runners who'd gone out too hard. I caught a few around this area, but they pretty much stayed with me the rest of the race. There were many well-paced people out there.

Until Wooroloo, I really enjoyed the scenery and terrain. Though a fairly flat race (600m in 76k), the low hills still eat you up because you're trying to run fast. After Wooroloo, the track widens and straightens for much of the next 19km to Mt Helena. It's a mentally tough section for me. Having Rolf appear to take photos made it easier to find joy :) The pace and heat made for a delicate focus on my nutrition, as the edge of nausea tried to toe its way in to my party.

All the aid stations were abuzz with spectators and crews. The cheering and encouragement was fantastic. I ran through Mt Helena 4 minutes off pace. Crap. I did my usual, "In and out!" call and one of the aid station crew chased me down because he needed to check a piece of mandatory gear - my mobile phone. I slowed, pulled it out, and held it up. I didn't even register until several hours after finishing and a girl told me it was the funniest sight - a bloke in a huge sombrero sprinting after me down the trail. I hadn't even really noted the sombrero until she said it!

Honky nuts and pea gravel. The unique WA trails.

I knew there was a 3k slight uphill grind in loose pea gravel out of Helena. And it was a grind, yes! It was warm and my legs were cooked. My quads were ready to be done and exerting on the uphill brought my heart rate up quickly. In those 3k, my pace fell 30 seconds off the plan for this 7k section. I wasn't going to make up for all that with the 4k little descent. But I did claw back enough to make it only a 17 second per k net deficit. But now I was 2 more minutes off projections. I had 34 minutes to run 7k of slightly downhill weaving trail. Not gonna happen. But what COULD I do?

Push. Experience from track running with Masters Athletics has really helped me learn how much I can push and how early. I pushed as hard as I could, running that delicate dance of exertion to avoid nausea or bonking. I had to keep the fuel going in, but not too much. I didn't bother looking at my pace for 3k. I knew I was doing my best. Then I looked. 5.14 pace. I was clawing some back! Push. More. Dance with exertion.

1k to go and I ran into a group of 8 out for a relaxing walk on the single track. "Excuse me, racer! Excuse me, sorry, racer!" I darted back and forth like a moth on a light. The last 500 metre climb came and I switched my Garmin to overall time. I watched 6.30.00 tick over. Okay, fine, but what COULD I do?

She wants me to stand still for my medal. I want to not puke.

According to my watch (still waiting for official time), 6.31.22. A 5.05 pace for the last 7k. I also finished 5th overall, as it turns out I had passed several guys at Wooroloo and Mt Helena aid stations without knowing.

Now, known for some crazy recoveries, I'm about to board a plane (short flight) to Indonesia to climb a 3,100 metre volcano. I've been in compression this whole time :) Poles are packed!

Dare

Finally, I have some "daring" adventures in the works. It's taken some soul-searching. Interestingly, the answers often come to me on solo runs, halfway up a brutal climb. Does oxygen deprivation contribute to transcendence? ;)

Mt Solitary, NSW, AUS in the background - a good climb for soul-searching

It's been many months without much in the way of running goals. It was a feeling I wasn't used to. The challenges just kept coming; ever since May 2010 when I started to set myself some daring goals. I might just add "daring for me", though that should be assumed, since this particular blog is mostly all about me ;)

It was a rewarding four years. A good mix of exciting, exhausting, scary, and fun. That's what daring is about. Challenging expectations. Exploring. Defying fear. Questioning reality.

To help other runners with their own "dares," I started a trail running business, Perth Trail Series, in early 2012. Last month, looking to fill the void of daring I was facing, I decided I had to sell PTS to my brilliant assistant. This opened the door to freedom and flexibility in my calendar. I just had to figure out some new dares. We all know (well, if you read my last post you know) that the 2015 World 24hr Championships did not fill my criteria for daring. At this point in my life, eeking out a few more kilometres in a 24 hour race does not create sufficient personal exploration and challenge. Maybe it will again someday.

My upcoming daring adventures might break records, they might not. They might only break a record in my brain - some artificial limiting fear, a "win" in overcoming logistical challenges, weather challenges, distance challenges, training challenges, or the challenge to live more simply and surrounded by nature more often. Here's where I'm headed:

Kep Ultra: 31 May 2015; Western Australia; 76km + 600m

Stirling Range Ridge Top Walk (RTW) loop: June 2015; Western Australia; 46km (+ ~2,000m)

Dolomites Sky Race Vertical Kilometre: 17 July 2015; Canazei, Italy; 2.5km + 1,000m

UTMB training camp (running the race course as a recce over 4 days): 24-28 July 2015

Monte Rosa Walser Trail: 1 August 2015; Gressoney-Saint-Jean, Italy; 50km + 4,000m

Rifugio Guide del Cervino altitude acclimatisation: 24-27 August 2015; Swiss-Italy border; elevation 3480m

Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc (UTMB): 28 August 2015; Chamonix, France; 170km + 10,000m

Canyon de Chelly Ultra: 10 October 2015; Arizona, USA; 55km + 365m

Point to Pinnacle: 15 November 2015: Tasmania, Australia; 21.4km + 1,270m

Yukon Arctic Ultra: 4-12 February 2016; Yukon Territory, Canada; 300 miles pulling a sled. Rolf says this is the sled-dog race where I'm the dog. This race has been on my radar since 2007. In 2013 I wrote off the idea, but the idea won't wear off me!

Bibbulmun self-supported FKT attempt: April-May 2016?

Rim2Rim2Rim Grand Canyon: April-May 2016?

Patagonia fast-packing: April-May 2016?

Teaching myself to build a pole barn on my land, circa 2001

It's your turn. I won't dare you. Dare yourself. Do something audacious. In your own way. You define it and make your dream come true.

Fate vs Destiny

Chance has little effect upon the wise man, for his greatest and highest interests are directed by reason throughout the course of life - Greek philosopher Epicurus ~300 BCE

Yesterday morning, the day of my eye/nose surgery, a timely blog post appeared in my email inbox. Penned by Karl Hoagland, it was on the topic of fate vs destiny, particularly in relation to ultras. He tried to describe a subtle difference between the two, saying fate is:

...what happens to you. It's the cards you are dealt and the path that circumstances, family expectations and peer pressure send you on. Fate is the route that is well traveled, grooved and most of all - seems safest. But the reality is that the safe path is the most dangerous of all, because it can keep you from living your life to its fullest and happiest potential. Making difficult decisions and choosing the difficult path always entails risk, hard work, embarrassment and pain.... Listen to your gut and your heart when facing the big decisions, and choose your destiny.

The trouble with the article is that he didn't clarify to me how one can choose their destiny (but not their fate), when the definitions of both offer the other as a synonym. Though in common usage, destiny is more often used in a forward-looking context - it's more often used to indicate a future event. A positive future event. Whilst destiny can be interpreted in a "fatalistic" way, that's more so the case for fate. Fate pretty much says what's arisen was predetermined and is thus out of our control. When something bad happens, we tend to say it was "fate." When something good happens, we're more likely to say it was our "destiny." Perhaps this gives us an easy way to cope with the bad things in life ("Well, it wasn't my fault, there was nothing I could do, it was fate.") Yet, we can take all the credit for the good things in life ("It was my destiny to land that job" - implying some kind of inherent giftedness.)

So, going by Karl's article, watery eyes was my fate. It was something that just happened, getting worse and worse over the past two years. It's impacted my running, such that in cool and/or windy weather, tears stream down my face. My eyes get sore from the constant wiping with a cloth and I can't run with any kind of speed and confidence on trails when it happens. Even on cool mornings whilst indoors, my eyes can rain for hours. Blurry vision makes it hard to read the computer screen.

Thirteen months ago I had my first eye surgery - a less invasive (but still under general anaesthetic) attempt to fix my problem. It was five days before the Coburg 6 hr race. It didn't work and we were back to the drawing board. Trying to time such things to work with my training and international travel added to the challenge of making successful eye surgery my "destiny" over a watery eye "fate."

Although I wanted the surgery before World 24hr Championships last month in Italy, I was concerned about it being too close to the race...AND they wanted me to go off my Udo's Oil! (a blood thinner). That wasn't gonna happen in peak training.

UTMB, the one race I'm signed up for this year. Oddly, only my 2nd 100 Miler!

My race calendar currently has a lot of space in it. I'm looking to fill it, but may need a month to see how this surgery pans out. I now have holes drilled through bone to connect my tear ducts to my nose. Bigger gutters! Here's hoping! If nothing else, I will find a new career as a professional mourner or develop my party tricks.

And whilst on the topic of fate vs destiny.... It's time to talk about Worlds. Heavy sigh.

I found Karl's article timely considering my World 24hr flop. I'd like to say "disaster", but I'm trying to stop catastrophising :) given that it's "only a race." It's just that this race included an investment I calculated at 30 hr/wk for training time. Concordantly, I decreased work. Thousands of dollars not earned and thousands of dollars spent on the travel. Favours requested of mates and my partner, all to help me achieve my goal. But there's the rub.

The rub was that the 2015 World 24hr race was not my goal (my "destiny"), but my fate. By virtue of running 238.261km last year, I earned myself a spot on the Australian women's team. And everyone expected me to go. Circumstances, expectations, and pressure. I told everyone I didn't want to go. For eight months I told everyone. Expectations and pressure continued. I waited for the mojo to come. It didn't come easily. But if I was going to go, I was going to do everything in my power to make it worth my while. I researched more 1%'ers to use in training and recovery and wrote myself a minimum 240km plan (an achievable, not pie-in-the-sky plan). There would be a small PB and depending on which ladies toed the line, just possibly a medal. Admittedly, the medal didn't provide me much of a carrot, as most people thought it would. (If medals motivated me, I'd be picking lots of small, obscure races where I could almost guarantee a win.)

Arrival in Torino was good. In my view, the course was an excellent 2km loop (excellent as world champ events go). I was sleeping well (crap bed, but I padded it to mat the springs sticking out). I adjusted time zones quickly. Resting heart rate (HR) was down. I was foam rolling and doing my pre-event runs as normal.

Race day. 10am start. All good. Awesome spring weather. A touch hot mid-afternoon - around 20C - but given I'd just come from summer and many were coming from winter, I figured I had an advantage. A sponge station was available.

My first oddity was 2hrs in. I had a feeling of plugged ears and was running along trying to pop them. I thought, "How odd. We're only at 300m." About 4 hours in, the next odd thing happened, which I didn't associate with the first. I felt a dry, burning, scratchy throat that made me want to nose breathe. It's something I often feel after 20 or more hours or running whilst mouth breathing - not 4 hours. Overall, I still had a jig in my step and did a happy dance for Rolf as I passed the crew area for fuel. After scaring us with terrible tacky music (We Are the Champions, Eye of the Tiger) at the parade, they had quite agreeable modern music going when I ran though the stadium every 11 minutes or so.

Around 7 hours I started to feel a general malaise that I couldn't put my finger on. Rolf recorded a sad face in my program. HR didn't feel high. Nothing "pained" me. I wondered vaguely if it could be heat, so tried sponging more.

Then the lymph nodes in my throat swelled up. It became very hard to swallow. My breathing became laboured in a strange way. It felt like I couldn't get a deep breath. Like I was breathing only into my neck, but the breath wasn't going right down into my lungs. Is that how asthmatics feel? I was at 76km, just above my target for the 240k plan. But I felt like I was starting to work too hard to keep it - too hard for this early in the race - with restricted breath and throat restriction and difficulty swallowing. The shallow breathing must have been reducing oxygen to my muscles, hence the feeling I was working harder.

Much as I dislike taking pills, and felt it unlikely to work in this case, I tried paracetemol for the throat at 7.5hrs. It was a big event with a lot put in by so many people. And a great course in great weather with my best crew! The pills took the worst of the throat pain/swallowing problem for an hour or so. That's it. Then it was back.

At 9 hours, I saw the writing on the wall. At 9hr30, I came in shaking my head in the negative. I felt the great sobs of disappointment rise and I found a nice corner tent wall to have a semi-private moment with. After a talk to the team manager, he asked me if I could still run, but a lesser distance than planned.

At 9.5 hours, I had 101.7km (still just above my 240k pace plan). If I could run 120km in the next 14 hours, just hold a 6 min/k now and drop to a 7 min/k later, the Aussie women's team might still earn a team medal (combined total of three women). I agreed to go back out and try a couple laps with one of the other girls. I couldn't stay with her. She kept dropping me. Two laps (4k) later, at 105.650km, I called it again.

My mystery virus with its swollen glands, sore throat, short breath, and headaches, lasted over a week. Rolf had it, too, only with worse headaches and a sort of vertigo at times. When I second-guess whether I could have run more/better and gave up too soon, I remember the "easy" run I tried to do with mates two days later, where they dropped me running a 6.30min/k pace mainly because I couldn't breathe. Walking up a hill with my mother-in-law, I was more out of breath than her (no offence, as she's a fit swimmer, but hills are my thing!)

But the physical illness turned out to be nothing compared to my "mental" one. In going to World 24s, I had let fate dictate my choice and when the consequences were tough, it hit hard. Coping with the disappointment, both personal and to the team, has been painful. I've had competitions go wrong before. Commonwealth 24hr 2011 I had to stop with what turned out to be anaemia. Lost Soul 100k 2014 I got a cold after international travel. But I coped with those and I think it was because they were targets I had wanted. They were my dreams. I could dust myself off and look at how to fulfil that dream again - or in another way. This time, I had tried to fulfil others' dreams and when it failed, I didn't know how to dust myself off and find another way. I can't see it from their eyes because I'm not them.

I've always said that as long as you can take away some learnings, you've made something positive of an ultra gone wrong. I have three. One is that I have more 1%'ers for training and recovery, including Hammer Race Caps Supreme. Two is that with my dodgy immune system, I will have to start wearing a mask on planes, I expect. Three is that I need to have the courage to make the "destiny" choices. Not everyone will agree or understand. But ultimately, I'm the one living with the consequences. I have to choose my own personal journey. I still hope to inspire others to create, fulfil, and live their own dreams, but it has to be in my own way. I can't inspire from a place that isn't authentic.

I let myself go down the path of World 24 2015, seeing it as the path of least resistance. It turned out to be the opposite!

Fate or destiny, I don't know that I'm much of a believer in either, really. I think I'm more epicurean. In the traditional Greek philosophical sense, not the new-age "gourmand" misinterpretation of the term. The past is a combination of atoms, whether those belonging to beings or weather patterns or rock formations, that interact to create a "now." Then, as I think Epicurus would say, we need to apply our reason to "now" to help engineer the future flow of atoms in a way we'd like. At least some of them :)

Happy atomising!

All the Advice You'll Ever Need

Now that I've got your attention.

I'll admit that this probably isn't all the advice you'll ever need. But it's most of it :)

Over the past couple years, I've been receiving increasing numbers of emails from runners far and wide, some I've never even met, asking me for training and race preparation advice as they embark on a journey towards an ultramarathon. I finally thought it's time to try to summarise what I think are the gems I've learned over the years. Hopefully you, the reader, will find at least one pearl of help in here for yourself.

How many miles should I run per week? 

Don't neglect the power of resting on the sofa sometimes!

Sure, I could just say "It depends." On your prior history of running, injury history, experience, current fitness, time commitments, stress levels....but let's keep it simple. The take home message is "Run as many miles as your body says you can without breaking." BEWARE THE ONLINE TRAINING PROGRAM. I bounced off injuries for a couple years trying to run 100km/weeks and back-to-back long runs on weekends when my body clearly hadn't made the necessary musculoskeletal adaptations to tolerate it. I won the 6 Inch Trail Marathon some years ago on a max week of 85km. And I didn't sit at that week after week, either. The first time I ran that race, in 2008, I did it on 65km weeks, as that's what I could fit in my schedule and run without breaking. By 2010, I was able to do ONE peak week of 100km building to races such as the Sri Chinmoy 24hr (200.886km run) and the Moe 6hr (70.4km run).

How long should my longest run be? Should I do/change/increase speedwork?

The adage of Easy-Hard is often applied to weekly training. Run easy one day, then do speedwork (very roughly, we could lump them all: tempo, interval, fartlek) the next. The Easy-Hard principle makes good sense. I think it can also be applied to back-to-back long runs, too. Just because a 5 hour run is done at an easy pace does not mean it's an easy run. It needs to be put in context. If you run 4 hour runs all the time, maybe it is indeed easy. And if the day before and day after you run 10 or 15km (or not at all), maybe it is indeed easy. But if you run a 4 hour run and then wake up the next day to run another 4 hour run, can that second run REALLY be called easy? Only if it really feels bloody easy to you - and not to anyone else or any program's advice. That second run might really be a hard run.

Barefoot beach running. One man's easy, another man's hard.

But I heard one should learn to run on tired legs!

I can't swallow this logic. Should I eat 2 greasy burgers and some hot chips before a 5k race, so that I can learn to run with nausea? (Because I surely might have nausea during my ultra.) Should I run with knee pain in training, as I might get knee pain during an ultra?

Tired legs equals bad form. If I've got no glutes left, my adductors and other smaller muscles, tendons, and ligaments are going to have to start doing more work than they are meant to. That is an injury in the making.

I think this statement could be useful to the development of a mind state - to toughening up the mind to run with a tired body. Well, if you need to toughen up your mind, I'm sure we can come up with options that don't require a leg injury to get you there! How about running early in the morning on a cold rainy day? Or late afternoon on a hot, humid day after work? That will develop mental toughness! :)

Perhaps a person could practice somewhat to run on "tired legs," but should probably do said run alone, so that you can really be aware of your running form and keep consciously reminding yourself (hips forward, activate the glutes, don't slouch, pick up your feet).

Should I run 7 days/week? Should I have 1 rest day? Can I run an ultra if I can only run 4 times per week?

I recently heard a saying, though can't find the original source to attribute it: "Optimal stress plus optimal rest equals optimal progress." This is somewhat akin to the easy-hard principle. If the idea of "rest" sounds like "slacker" and puts your brain into meltdown, change the term. Call it a "recovery day" or a "consolidation week." This is when your gains are made, when muscle fibres knit themselves back together stronger and fresh oxygenated blood comes into your ligaments and tendons.

Track kms, including elevation if you're doing hilly stuff. Hills add to load.

So it's never possible to say everyone should run 6 days per week or that 4 days per week is enough. It's relative to your individual body and to your individual lifestyle. Back in 2009, I was often running just three times per week. More running means more maintenance. Once you up the running mileage, you'd better add in 10% of that additional running time for icing, rolling, massage, and stretching! (As well as extra showers and laundry loads!)

For an ultramarathoner, I think the essential base comes from two key sessions. One long run on the weekend and one mid-week 1.5 hour easy paced, preferably hilly (trail) run. Get those done. And build sessions into the week around those, using all the tips above, including the "easy-hard" principle.

Can I backup one race with another very quickly? There's "This Other 50/100km Race" just two weeks after "That Special 50/100km Race"....

Greedy, greedy, aren't we at times? :)

In most cases, the answer is no. What if it's three weeks between events? Usually, no. Unless your body is really well adapted to racing ultra distances, you will not have recovered in time. You might feel great for 20k, but then almost surely the wheels are going to fall off magnificently.

If your body is adapted to ultras, if you track your resting heart rate and can see it's come back down to its low normal, and probably if you didn't race the first race in an all-out best effort, you might be able to "capitalise" on your fitness and get another race in so close. But if you ran your best effort in race #1, don't expect that your endocrine system and tendons have finished their internal mop up job, just because you think you "feel fine" running an easy 15k around the local lake.

How should I pace myself for this ultra I'm doing?

Don't take too much from the token jar at once!

I read a great tip from a 10k to half marathon runner in R4YL magazine a couple years ago (can't remember who it was, unfortunately). She said that at the half way point, she should not yet be struggling or feeling it's too hard, or she's in big trouble. An ultra is quite similar. You shouldn't be going so fast that when you reach halfway, you're already in Hurtsville. Conversation pace. You should be able to sing the national anthem easily in the first third of the event (if you know your national anthem, that is!) Your pace will slow, that's inevitable, so don't think to try to keep it even. But similarly, don't think you can "bank" time for later. The faster you remove your "tokens" from the "energy" jar in the first part of the race, the fewer tokens you have left at the end. Expect a hard physical start to equate to a hard mental - and slow physical - finish. More even splits are proven winners.

When should I do my longest run for this ultra?

Five weeks out is pretty standard. Go further out - closer to eight weeks, if you feel you're pushing your boundaries and/or are prone to injury. This will give you a good couple weeks to rest any niggles without feeling the pressure of the race looming.

How do I prevent injury?

Food to refill muscle glycogen after a night run - setting up for the next run

Other than adhering to the above related to taking recovery days, doing mileage your body can cope with, and such, I attribute my injury-free state the past three years (no injury since Nov 2011 compartment syndrome during the Bibbulmun FKT) to: (1) healthy diet, including anti-oxidants (just think fresh fruit and veg, lots of colours - that keeps it simple) and daily anti-inflammatories (e.g., avocado, Udo's Oil, chia, and salmon if you're a fish-eater) (2) weekly massage (twice weekly if things are getting out of hand), (3) ice baths (optimal temp about 13 degrees, not freezing) and ice cup massage on lower legs/shins (technique described elsewhere in my blog), (4) strength work (e.g., core work, glute strength exercises), (5) biweekly (or more) sports chiropractic (this is more than just "cracking your back" in case you've never been), (6) planned rest/recovery months into each year (I usually plan two).

Australia Day Ultra 100k

Diary of an Ultrarunner:

Late December: 

Early Jan: 3 day/120k trail running block about to begin

I hear about new 50/100km road races to be held in WA over Australia Day weekend. It's hot. It's summer. Glad to hear there's a new event and I know the RD should put on a great one, but it's hot. It's summer. I get back to my base training for the World 24hr in April.

January 1st:

Email super nice RD. Sooooo, that new road event of yours - is it officially certified for distance so performances could go in annual rankings? It might be good for my 24hr training to have a hard hit-out at something. I'd at least like to know it would be an official distance.

January 8th:

Enter 100k race. Quickly rewrite program to drop miles and add a few speedwork sessions. A few will have to do. The race is in 2 weeks.

January 11th:

Continue to harass super nice RD, now telling him that though it's hot, it's summer, and I'm not in peak fitness (I've been running base with 150-200km weeks), I might just possibly be able to break my own AUS and CAN W45 100km records of 8.47.54 if the weather is kind.

First speed session in 7 months. 5k race in 30 degrees. This will at least give me a benchmark as to where I'm at. Perimenopause was anointed upon on me about 6 months ago (looking back with hindsight) as I had suddenly put on 2kg (which had me and my strength trainer very confused) and I developed hot flashes soon after that (attributed at first to international flights and adjusting to summer in Europe). 5k race result suggested I was just as fast as last year. (Hmmm, what if I could drop those bloody 2kg??)

January 13th:

Track. Oh, the horrors.

Two days after 5k race. Track session with Masters Athletics in the heat. OMG the pain. But further proof that the speed is still there. I have data to create a pace plan now. Said plan will factor in for the heat, estimating at least a 15 minute loss. More if it goes above 27 degrees.

January 21st:

Last hope of the RD ever liking me as a person again, as I send him yet another email asking if there might be a marking/tape out on race day to record my 6 hour split, as I should break the CAN W45 record. (I'm not even telling you about my other emails to him!)

Beetroot loading. Hammer Race Caps Supreme experiment continues.

January 24th:

Wake up at 2am. It's race time! To mitigate the heat, the events started at 3am.

For the next six hours, I ran to my calculated splits. People passed me and I passed them back. I just kept running to my splits. This method is tried and trusted for me. It keeps me from getting emotive, from chasing people or feeling hunted. I just repeated my mantra, "Run to the maths." Hammer Perpetuem in 250ml of water, carried in a handheld, swapped every 31 minutes or so when I saw my crew, Rolf, as I traversed the length of the 6.25km course. I tried to enjoy the very pretty course, run alongside an estuary with shorebirds, roos, and people out wading with their fishing nets.

Approaching my crew, midpoint on the 6.25k course. Perp and pear, please!

Given the early start, conditions were good for the first 5 hours, as expected. Starting temperature was around 14 degrees. But once the sun peeked out over the scarp about 6 am, the temperature slowly rose. Heat management started about 8.30am, with the first water being thrown over my head. From then on, the aid stations got to know me by my call of "Two water!" as I ran by. I would dump most of both over quads, hammies, calves, chest, and/or back, depending on what needed it most at the time. The last bits of water in the cups I'd swig.

As the temperature rose, so did the wind. Whilst this helped with evaporative cooling, it required greater push for the southbound leg of the course (6.25k north, spin around, come back south 6.25k. Repeat 8 times.) I had calculated splits to account for temperature as best I could, but forgot to add wind (I had meant to). One online calculator using Jack Daniels' formula suggested that a 20kph headwind might cost me about 11-12% in VO2 demand. The tailwind going north would only give me a 7-8% gain. Thus, once the wind picked up, I was losing a net 4% in having to work harder to keep the pace.

Well, I guess that science stuff is pretty darn good. Because I wrote a plan for 8hr 29 min and ran 8hr 32 min, falling off the pace after the 6 hour mark. So, 2.5 hours in 20kph wind, resulting in a 4% loss would roughly mean 6 minutes lost.

The 24hr shoes are now the 100k shoes, as well.

My A goal was to have a good, hard hit-out at something before World 24hr. I met that goal. The B goal was to break my W45 national records. Met. The C goal - the goal that if everything went perfectly, weather, my running form, crewing, etc - was to meet the Category A qualifier level for both international and Australian standards for 100k. That's 8hr30 for a woman and 7hr flat for a man.

I only missed it by 2 minutes. The writing was on the wall by the end of lap 7, the 87.5k mark. The wall was sealed with lacquer at the 93.75k turnaround. I looked at my watch (knowing what I was about to see) and had a good chuckle to myself. I had to do 6.25k at a sub 5 min/k pace. Wasn't going to happen! The slacker on my right shoulder whispered in my ear, "It doesn't matter now. You might as well take it easy. You're leading anyway." The pusher on my left shoulder slapped slacker upside the head and said, "You need to cross that finish line knowing you gave it your best, no matter what the conditions were. You need to finish at peace with yourself and the course." Thus it was that my next couple km were over 5.30 pace, as slacker and pusher tousled, me running into that bloody headwind. Finally, slacker fell off with a thud on the pavement. I then ran a 5.11min/k, a 5.00, and a 4.55, finishing the last couple hundred metres into the finish at a sub 4 min pace. I knew all along I'd miss 8hr30, but I finished able to say I'd done my best on the day.

As a bonus, first outright at the first event!

Looking for The One Percenters

World 24 Hour Championships, Torino, Italy, 11-12 April 2015.

It's been haunting me. Ask any of my running mates. A couple months ago, I had to commit to apply. I did. I was accepted. But I wasn't jubilant. I felt not just ambivalence towards the race, but almost resentment towards it. Where was the mojo?

I've been running. Trail running, road running. All good. Enjoying the miles, solo or with mates. This wasn't burnout. I was happily training...but for what? If I didn't want to do World 24 Hour, what did I want to do? I had a long list of maybes.

Yet I wasn't eager to sign up for anything. Everything was rejected for some reason or other. I wondered if maybe I was just done racing. Maybe my competitive gene had fizzled out.

After two months of talking about the "problem" (alternated with ignoring it or "being" with it), of looking for answers in ultra running podcasts, of listening to mates' stories of their own racing goals, of talking more, of more quiet reflection, I finally found what I think is my stumbling block.

My running story told in triangles

Over the past 7 years, I've learned a lot about running and performance-related things. I've learned about bad fat in processed food. About glycemic index and insulin spikes. About foam rolling, sports massage, ice cup massage, and needling. I've learned about good fats, turmeric, epicatechins, antioxidants and anti-inflammatories (the natural ones). I've experienced musculoskeletal adaptation that allows me to run double the mileage I did 7 years ago. I've learned about speed work, track sessions, Mona fartleks, Masters Athletics, beetroot juice, and caffeine. About form and gait when running, low heel-drop shoes, eccentric calf raises, neutral shoes. How to eat right after a long run, how much glycogen is stored in muscles, and what tends to cause (and how to prevent) blisters. Studied hypobaric vs hypoxic training, heat acclimation vs acclimatisation. Calculated pacing programs and compared the effects of positive, negative, and even splits in racing tactics. Had DEXA scans, electrical impedence scans, ultrasound scans, CT scans, MRIs, and VO2max testing. And that is certainly not a comprehensive list!

Accompanying all this, my running performance has seen gains that look a lot like that little chart above. Now, I'm sitting at that last triangle on the right. What's next? Where do I squeeze out more performance now? Stop working? Become a full-time athlete? Move to a mountaintop? (with a training field in the valley below 1500m, of course.)

I've been wringing out a towel of goodness for 7 years. But you know what happens when you get that towel nearly wrung out. Getting those last few droplets out is HARD. Your hands burn, your fingers get red. You work for those last few drops. Yes, you worked before, but it's nothing compared to the work of getting the last drops out.

That is where I think I'm at.

Am I ready for the mental AND physical challenge ahead? The challenge of trying to eek out a few more drops?

I've decided it's time to try. So with that in mind, I've researched a few things that have been on my "someday" list for a while. Things that may be "One Percenters." There are several more to research, but here are a few:

With a mate on a 3 day training weekend

Coenzyme Q10. (CoQ10). This substance is made in our bodies. It's also found in oily fish, nut oils, avocado, and organ meats. Cells use it to produce energy. Although our bodies make it, levels do decrease with age. Intensive training decreases it, too. So, a supplement sounds like a good thing - ensure levels are up so that our little cell powerhouses are fully powered. Unfortunately, the jury is out on whether supplementing actually can improve performance. There are so many ways to research a supplement that it can be hard to interpret and compare results - you can vary dosages, test different types of people (e.g., sedentary old men, recreational runners, elite bodybuilders), have one group on a placebo without knowing it's a fake pill, limit the use of other supplements like vitamin C by participants.... The body is very good at keeping itself in homoeostasis. So unless there's a great deficiency, a CoQ10 pill might just all be pee'd down the drain. Healthy runners rarely have vitamin deficiencies. BUT, there is a small amount of evidence supporting supplementation (maybe at 200-300mg). It's generally well tolerated as a supplement, with no ill effects. So, given that I tick the boxes of aging and intensity in training, and the fact that I've already capitalised on the "big ticket" performance enhancers (e.g., weight loss, low GI diet, speed work), I'm going to give it a go. My choice is to try the Hammer Nutrition Race Caps Supreme for a minimum of 6 weeks. I'm keeping in mind Race Caps also have magnesium and vitamin E/tocopherols. Magnesium I discuss below, but not vitamin E. For the sake of keeping this blog post manageable for me to write and you to read, let's just say there is some support for the antioxidant/vitamin E. It's on the AIS Group B list and discussed here more.

Natural strength training opportunities on a 70k run!

Magnesium (Mg). A mineral used for all kinds of chemical reactions in the body. Some is stored in bones and is used for bone maintenance and growth. It's also used by nerves and muscles and neutralises stomach acid (hence its use in antacids). Mg is in all sorts of foods, but particularly in high fibre foods like whole grains, seeds, nuts, legumes, and green leafy veg. People living in areas with naturally occurring "hard" water get more through their water. Why am I interested in Mg? Because of the periodic sleep deprivation I get due to "restless legs." It's been touted as a fix for muscle cramps (though my restless legs aren't a stereotypical painful cramping). Research says Mg levels are tightly controlled by the body. Although levels in blood increase right after high intensity exercise (likely due to muscle breakdown that causes it to transfer from muscle into the extracellular fluid - just like happens with potassium), levels normalise within a day. In prolonged exercise, one might think levels could go down, as the broken down Mg is pee'd and sweated out, but it doesn't seem to be the case - and again, levels normalise within a day. Taking oral Mg and expecting a change in internal chemistry looks to be a tough one - the body keeps its levels under control. So, unless you have a deficiency, you're just going to pee it out. Knowing whether you're getting your RDI appears prudent with this one. There's a small amount in my Hammer Race Caps, so I'll consider that a potential top-up and leave it at that. Though doing a food diary and adding up my daily Mg intake would be the scientific thing to do. That's one of those "when I have more time" projects :)

Even loving it at 30+ degrees! (Mind games are key)

Pineapple. Just the other day, someone told me they'd heard pineapple was an anti-inflammatory. I'd never heard that - and I think I do a lot of reading. Well, that very night, I picked up an article that said "eat pineapple for the anti-inflammatory properties." Okay, time to research. Pineapple is a "bromeliad" flowering fruit. There's an enzyme called bromelain in it. Well, I think bromelain is more technically a mix of protein-digesting enzymes (yes, enzymes that digest protein, which is possibly the reason it "tickles" or stings the mouths of people who eat a lot - your mouth has protein in it, after all.) Bromelain is a natural blood thinner and anti-inflammatory. It really has been used as such by the medical community. Bromelain is extracted from the stem and the juice of the pineapple. The problem is that it does not occur in high enough doses naturally in the fruit to act as medicine. Stick to the omega fats like Udo's Oil, walnuts, and avocado and turmeric (curcumin) for your natural anti-inflammatories. But feel free to enjoy a pineapple for its anti-oxidant/vitamin C :)

A 60k day on the Bibbulmun Track

L-carnitine. The Australian Institute of Sport (AIS) currently lists carnitine on its Group B list of supplements. It's their official list of "maybe" performance-enhancers. The "jury-is-out" supplements, according to their review of the research. L-carnitine acts as an antioxidant not unlike CoQ10 (to my untrained eye). It helps the body breakdown fat to convert it to energy and it's made in our bodies. It appears helpful for people with certain heart conditions like angina. It occurs naturally in many foods including dairy and avocados, but is definitely highest in red meat (hence the "carni" in the name). Research is definitely scant, but supplements are well-tolerated. So, I might just start dipping into that bottle I've had laying around unopened for 6 months. Another experiment in One Percenters :)

Well, my hands are sore. From researching and blogging or towel wringing? Time for a little speedwork. I've got a 100k in two weeks - decided to put a training race into the program a few days ago. I won't be in peak shape for it, but that's what training is about, isn't it? Getting into peak shape :)

Dear India, Thanks for the Uncertainty

Trying to weave a coherent, sequential story out of my 2 weeks in India is like trying to drive a car whilst focused only on the side view mirror. When you're driving, you're in a highly spatial state, doing many things seemingly at once - braking, checking mirrors, talking, listening to the radio, steering.... Similarly, India happens spatially. And if you try to force sequencing on it, well, it's just that. Forced. The result will be some sort of discomfort, if not downright angst or grumpiness. India plays with all things sequential, serial, linear, and ordered like a cat plays with a grasshopper.

So with that in mind, here is my non-sequential story of my 2 week visit to Arunachal Pradesh, a state in remote north-east India, bordering Bhutan, Tibet, and Burma.

The course along the Siang River (called Brahmaputra river further south)

Organic and sustainable. The jungle is alive. And far more than with mosquitoes, leeches, and biting flies, it is alive with wild guava, mandarin oranges, bananas, and other manner of organic jungle food I've no English names for. Seeds are harvested and planted and the cyclical nature of Earth's seasons is at the forefront.

Hanging bridges. An excitement for foreigners, a routine lifeline for villagers.

Borders are for governments. In the furthest north, the currency was still rupee - if I could find a place to spend some - but the Tibetan greetings of Tashi Deleg were common.

Plastic has no place. In the jungle, everything is made naturally. The cups are bamboo, plates are banana leaves, cutlery is fingers. Take away? No problem, banana leaves fold up perfectly into "sandwich bags." Baskets, chairs, fences, gates, and ladders are made of woven, interlaced, and fitted straw and bamboo. When I wanted a "foam roller," one was fashioned out of a large, smooth piece of bamboo in minutes. One becomes acutely aware of any plastic wrappings in a place like this. The one thing these people have never had to create in the past is a rubbish bin.

Being served lunch in a home after day 1

Calcutta is not India. Nor is Mumbai or Trivandrum or Dharamsala or Arunachal Pradesh. India is vast and varied.

India is spiritual. You're as likely to be asked your religion as how many children you have. It's the kind of place where your Muslim driver joins you and your Indo-Tibetan Buddhist guide on a 3-day Buddhist trekking pilgrimage. Where you could utter a prayer at a meal to Ganesh, Allah, Jesus, or the Flying Spaghetti Monster, or recite a Buddhist mantra, and no one would bat an eye. Where you can hold a ceremony to put up Tibetan prayer flags and a Hindu family helps.

Tea. I've had the best cups of tea of my life - and some surprising ones - on this trip (Ginger tea is made with milk??) I also came to learn that tea is a luxury in the jungle. You don't gulp it out of giant mugs, looking for the caffeine hit, but savour it like a piece of dark chocolate for dessert.

Everyone's getting along now, but come night time it can get noisy!

Rice. There are more flavours to "plain white" rice and more ways to cook it than I knew. And there are people who never tire in their whole lives of having rice at every meal - breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Offer them a roti or chapati for a change and they'll turn for the rice.

10,000 hours. The adage is that it takes 10,000 hours of practice to become an expert at something. The 21 (mostly college-age local) men who ran the inaugural 3 day 100 km Run Siang trail race had never trail raced in their lives. They weren't "trail runners." One guy had done a 100 metre race once. But these guys have spent their childhoods navigating the trails than link villages - full of rocks, roots, water, vines, and slippery bamboo bridges. Often barefoot or in flip flops. I reckon several could run technical downhills with some of the world elites. They just need some time to develop endurance for distance and climbing.

They're slippery, especially before morning sun gets to them.

Normal is relative. Day 1 driving on jungle roads, I sat in stunned silence. A single "lane" dirt/mud/water track weaving alongside 70 degree steep cliffs hour after hour. Landslides periodically reclaim the road, causing waits whist heavy machinery digs out a new track. I am unnerved with the knowledge that I have to return via this road (there is only one) in some days' time. But when "some day" comes, I find I have developed a new sense of normal. The track's not so bad. And yes, the cliffs are still at 70 degrees, bridge remains are visible over cliffside, and the heavy machinery is still digging out landslides.

Just waiting for a road to be built.

Trail running fosters community. I've seen it in Perth - trail running creates community. And it was no different in Arunachal Pradesh. These people have never heard of trail running. They've never heard of Killian Jornet, Compressport, or Hammer gels. They've never heard of trail marking or drop bags or aid stations or set courses. There are no radios, no internet, no magazines, and no TVs. Yet given the concepts, they created it - the first trail race in NE India, if not in all of India. Villagers manned tables filled with cooked sweet potato, bananas and oranges from the jungle, sugar cane, and their own local version of something similar to a rice krispie square. They opened their homes to us at night so we could sleep in front of their fires. The same fires they'd wake to stoke at 4.30 am, warming tea and race cakes in banana leaf, so that we could head out to run another 5, 6, or 7 hours over hanging bridges and through jungle, bamboo forest, and rice paddies to where we'd be welcomed by another village for the night. Surely, it was a steep learning curve - like when it had to be explained twice that if you lose the course markings, you have to backtrack and can't simply take any trail you know to the village! :)

Aid station, Sissen village. You won't leave without a sweet potato ;)

Sugar cane, rice and sesame balls, oranges, and ricecake wrapped in banana leaf

Eckhart Tolle wrote "If uncertainty is unacceptable to you, it turns into fear. If it is perfectly acceptable, it turns into increased aliveness, alertness, and creativity."

If uncertainty is acceptable to you, India awaits. Run Siang!