So, it's been about two weeks since the scary race happened, and guess what? It wasn't that scary at all! In fact it was fun. Well, as much fun as running for six hours can be. But the whole weekend was kinda nice and chilled and then suddenly there was this running bit that kinda had to happen but by the time it did, everyone was chomping at the bit to get it over with, so it kinda worked well.
And the thought of running for six hours is actually much worse than actually doing it. Running for six hours, especially when you have a goal in mind is a lot of telling yourself stuff. For me it was "are you totally fucked yet?" And if the answer was "no", then I kept running.
Later in the night when I wanted to walk, I kept asking myself this. And there was no point where I was so fucked that I couldn't keep going, so I just kept it up. I walked a bit on the last few laps but was really quite surprised how much I was able to run. Ok, so my legs were sore, but my friend Tims words always come back to me. Yes, you get sore, but it never gets any worse so just keep going, he used to say. And he is right. Well, you tell yourself that and just keep going. Suddenly when I got to marathon distance (42.2km) I thought, fuck, I can maybe actually achieve my goal of 50km.
I saw 43, 44 and 45km roll past and had a giggle to myself. Me, running all that way. How very amusing. And then 48km with twenty minutes to go. Surely I could do two more laps in twenty minutes. Hell yes!!
By their timing, I managed 50.65km, which was precisely .65 of a km over my goal. Job done.
My garmin said 53.65km so that was much much more than I expected. In my heart I wanted to do 50km but had this horrible feeling I would do something crap like 48km, which I would not have been happy with.
So when I got over 50 laps I was smiling like someone who had just drank a large vat of vodka and sniffed a lot of permanent markers.
They give you a little bean bag with your race number on it on the last lap, so that when the bell rings to signify the six hours are up, you drop it on the ground and some race official comes along and measures from the start to where you dropped your bean bag and that is your final distance. I dearly wanted to keep my little bean bag as a souvenir but my brain wasn't working all that well to be devious and obtain something by deception so to speak, and I reluctantly handed it to the nice lady who told me how well I had done.
The really good thing about this race was that my old friend Cathie was out there too so it was nice to catch up and chat and encourage each other. She did a fabulous PB and did 80km in the 12 hour. Actually seeing her do it and realising how demoralising it must have been to see us six hour people finish and she still had to keep going is testament to how much internal strength that woman has. She didn't look happy for a few laps but she kept going and then it all seemed to come good for her again. Note to self. Don't ever attempt a 12 hour race. Nastyyyyyyyy.
My race finished at midnight. Yes, running at night is preferable to running during the day so this type of event suits me down to the ground. The only problem is the funny feeling of not being tired AT ALL afterwards and wanting to sit up all night and watch everyone else run. Hard to contemplate some of those guys who are running eight, nine, ten plus hours looking as fresh as they did when they first started. Who has genes like that? Freaks, the lot of them.
So - recovery. That night I fell about like a drunk person trying to put my warm clothes on afterwards. It was like vSOMS - very Sudden Onset of Muscle Soreness. Next day was worse, especially as we had to sit in a car from Canberra to Sydney. The day after was pretty stiff and sore too, until some bright spark suggested a spin class. I think the words "don't be fucking ridiculous" first escaped before I had a chance to think. But after a little bit of contemplation (still haven't got that mouth brain co-ordination thing worked out) I thought that maybe that wasn't a bad idea. Anyway, I kept the resistance low and it was a like a little mini miracle. The legs suddenly felt great. We also did a few little bushwalks with steps and stuff so that helped too. I went back to work on Tuesday feeling all smug. Wednesday my PT decided to give me a one legged weights session. HUGE mistake. I was destroyed for days. Tried to run on the Saturday and had to run really fast (for me) just to get it over with, it was hurting so much. So two things not to do after a long run like this. I had to give myself a few days of just getting out on the bike until I went back to normal, but when I did get back to normal, the running seems to have improved and I now feel a teeny wee bit faster. How does that work?!!!
In summary, I really enjoyed the race and the whole experience and would DEFINITELY do it again. For sure. I might even train for it this time!! I quite possibly wouldn't do any skipping beforehand or a full on legs weights session afterwards, but you live and learn! For anyone who thinks running around a 1km track is boring - try it! It really was fun and a great personal challenge and I have to say I was on a massive high for a few days afterwards!
And the thought of running for six hours is actually much worse than actually doing it. Running for six hours, especially when you have a goal in mind is a lot of telling yourself stuff. For me it was "are you totally fucked yet?" And if the answer was "no", then I kept running.
Later in the night when I wanted to walk, I kept asking myself this. And there was no point where I was so fucked that I couldn't keep going, so I just kept it up. I walked a bit on the last few laps but was really quite surprised how much I was able to run. Ok, so my legs were sore, but my friend Tims words always come back to me. Yes, you get sore, but it never gets any worse so just keep going, he used to say. And he is right. Well, you tell yourself that and just keep going. Suddenly when I got to marathon distance (42.2km) I thought, fuck, I can maybe actually achieve my goal of 50km.
I saw 43, 44 and 45km roll past and had a giggle to myself. Me, running all that way. How very amusing. And then 48km with twenty minutes to go. Surely I could do two more laps in twenty minutes. Hell yes!!
By their timing, I managed 50.65km, which was precisely .65 of a km over my goal. Job done.
My garmin said 53.65km so that was much much more than I expected. In my heart I wanted to do 50km but had this horrible feeling I would do something crap like 48km, which I would not have been happy with.
So when I got over 50 laps I was smiling like someone who had just drank a large vat of vodka and sniffed a lot of permanent markers.
They give you a little bean bag with your race number on it on the last lap, so that when the bell rings to signify the six hours are up, you drop it on the ground and some race official comes along and measures from the start to where you dropped your bean bag and that is your final distance. I dearly wanted to keep my little bean bag as a souvenir but my brain wasn't working all that well to be devious and obtain something by deception so to speak, and I reluctantly handed it to the nice lady who told me how well I had done.
The really good thing about this race was that my old friend Cathie was out there too so it was nice to catch up and chat and encourage each other. She did a fabulous PB and did 80km in the 12 hour. Actually seeing her do it and realising how demoralising it must have been to see us six hour people finish and she still had to keep going is testament to how much internal strength that woman has. She didn't look happy for a few laps but she kept going and then it all seemed to come good for her again. Note to self. Don't ever attempt a 12 hour race. Nastyyyyyyyy.
My race finished at midnight. Yes, running at night is preferable to running during the day so this type of event suits me down to the ground. The only problem is the funny feeling of not being tired AT ALL afterwards and wanting to sit up all night and watch everyone else run. Hard to contemplate some of those guys who are running eight, nine, ten plus hours looking as fresh as they did when they first started. Who has genes like that? Freaks, the lot of them.
So - recovery. That night I fell about like a drunk person trying to put my warm clothes on afterwards. It was like vSOMS - very Sudden Onset of Muscle Soreness. Next day was worse, especially as we had to sit in a car from Canberra to Sydney. The day after was pretty stiff and sore too, until some bright spark suggested a spin class. I think the words "don't be fucking ridiculous" first escaped before I had a chance to think. But after a little bit of contemplation (still haven't got that mouth brain co-ordination thing worked out) I thought that maybe that wasn't a bad idea. Anyway, I kept the resistance low and it was a like a little mini miracle. The legs suddenly felt great. We also did a few little bushwalks with steps and stuff so that helped too. I went back to work on Tuesday feeling all smug. Wednesday my PT decided to give me a one legged weights session. HUGE mistake. I was destroyed for days. Tried to run on the Saturday and had to run really fast (for me) just to get it over with, it was hurting so much. So two things not to do after a long run like this. I had to give myself a few days of just getting out on the bike until I went back to normal, but when I did get back to normal, the running seems to have improved and I now feel a teeny wee bit faster. How does that work?!!!
In summary, I really enjoyed the race and the whole experience and would DEFINITELY do it again. For sure. I might even train for it this time!! I quite possibly wouldn't do any skipping beforehand or a full on legs weights session afterwards, but you live and learn! For anyone who thinks running around a 1km track is boring - try it! It really was fun and a great personal challenge and I have to say I was on a massive high for a few days afterwards!
