Over 12 months ago I was hit with a major injury after falling on a training run. It left me with a badly damaged ankle and I had to pull out of the events I had worked hard to train for, the North Face 50 and the 6 foot track marathon. Fast forward to the end of the year and I found myself once again in a similar, yet not as serious situation with injury and wondering if I would be lining up again for the start line, or deferring my entry yet again.
I decided to register for the 6 foot track marathon again, not knowing whether I would indeed make the start line, but with a fire in my belly knowing that I wanted to do the best I could to get there.
I spent a lot of time rehabilitating from my ankle injury and was able to compete at the 50km race at the Centennial Park Ultra when the next ankle injury struck while on a training run for the Coastal Classic in September. I was devastated.
Something inside me however when I do these injuries refuses to die. For a few weeks I get sad and depressed, crying over and I guess mourning the races that I yearned to be part of, but then I start planning and dreaming and working out my master plan in my head to triumph over the bad and get me to the other side of the sadness. The thing for me is that the race is just the end result. I am more mourning over the training with friends and the accomplishment that comes from that, and the social side that goes hand in hand with training for endurance events.
So when the chance came to register for 6 foot track I took it, knowing that there was a high probability that I wouldn’t be lining up to race. After my ankle injury came another injury in the form of a stress reaction on my cuboid bone on the top of my foot, and also a plantar fascia tear. Most mornings I would have to hobble out of bed and spend minutes holding furniture just to be able to walk out of my bedroom to get my foot and leg to warm up and the muscles to relax and lengthen. Once I was moving I was okay, but If I sat still for a long period and went to get up, I was like a cripple.
I went to see a strength and conditioning coach that was recommended to me and that was the beginning of my rehabilitation back to running and breaking the injury cycle. I focused on doing my exercises and not pushing the running too much and over time I got stronger and things started to heal.
I went on holiday in January to Hawaii with my family and I didn’t run much, but rested and focussed on doing some of my strength work. When I returned from holidays I started to ramp up my running where I left off. I joined my friends for our long training runs on our local pipeline trail that was hills for kilometres. I needed to train on hills, but I also needed to create a fine line between pushing too much and going backwards, and getting just the right amount of training in to cope in this event. All things went to plan and training runs were completed up to 36km.
The week before the race was extremely hot. I was struggling to ever feel like I was on top of my hydration and with work and family and stress due to moving houses I felt like I was not rested like I would normally like before an event. The night before the race and the morning of the race I had a dry mouth and I knew that I had not adequately hydrated for the conditions expected, so I tried my best to cram it in last minute.
When we got to the start line I was so excited, yet nervous for what lay ahead. I had been on the course up to the pluviometre, which was half way, but I had not gone further than that point. The morning felt cool, so I wasn’t too worried. The day before the race had sent out an email warning us of the conditions to expect. 82% humidity and 28 degrees. I didn’t think much of it as it certainly didn’t feel like that.
We lined up for our wave and before we knew it the gun went off and we started down the stairs into the valley. Well. Suddenly as we went down the conditions changed. Hot, humid, air as thick as mud. My mind was concerned right away and by the time we got off the stairs and into running the trail I was already struggling with the humidity.
I didn’t feel comfortable at all and I was trying to run with my friends, but it wasn’t before long that I told them we were going to have to back off on the pace as I was already feeling pretty ordinary and we were only about 10k in. We continued on and across the fields and I was so concerned I didn’t even take the time to look at the scenery around me that had enticed me before on this course. All I cared about was getting to the river to cool off. I continued to sip on my water bottles in my pack and took my gels, but by the time I got to the river I was feeling exhausted and I was absolutely saturated with sweat like I had been for a swim.
Going through the river was bliss and everyone was throwing water over themselves. I stopped to get the rocks out of my shoes and my friends needed to use the bathroom, so I told them I would go ahead and they would probably catch me as I wasn’t feeling great……
I started to climb Mini Mini, the next climb and I was reduced to a walk like most people, but it took all of my effort to not stop. A guy I know called John and his son went passed me and he said a few words to me….I could hardly reply. Later on he told my sister that he knew that I was already in the first stages of something like heat exhaustion. He could tell. And I could feel it.
My friends caught me during the climb. They were all happy and chatty and I just could hardly talk. I just focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Near the end of the first climb up Mini Mini my hearing suddenly went very quiet. I wondered if it was just that we had climbed up high so I kept it to myself for a few minutes, but I was struggling to get cool and I was still sweating profusely. I felt dreadful. I finally mentioned the hearing to my friend Kath and she immediately was worried and told me it was the heat that was affecting me. Melinda gave me her extra water bottle as my bottles didn’t squeeze. We knew that I needed to cool down. Kath also gave me her extra salt tablets. I worked out that I was probably severely lacking in salt due to sweating so much and needed to cool the body and replace the salt as soon as possible. So the next few kilometres I spent pouring water over my head and walking and running where I could to the next checkpoint where I would try to cool down.
When I got there my friend was there and she had unfortunately pulled out of the race due to various factors. I deliberated wether I should also as I felt so terrible. I still had about 27km to go and I could hardly run by this point. I was still so hot. I asked the attendants how far it was to the next aid station and they said 1.5k, so I decided that I would continue and see how my body could hold up and cool down before the next checkpoint. After quite a while we decided to press on. I walked and ran where I could to the next checkpoint and it turned out the next checkpoint was about the same distance again so I made it my plan to just get from checkpoint to checkpoint. I was worried that if it was a long way I may pass out and not make it so knowing that they were so close made me feel like it was okay to keep going.
The next part of the race was the biggest climb up to the pluviometre, a few kilometres of steep climbing, so I let my friends go ahead as I was holding them back. I walked with a guy who kept talking to me the whole way. It made the climb so much easier and I kept pouring the water over my head and taking salt tablets every 10 minutes or so. By the time I reached the top I felt a little bit better, both physically, but also mentally knowing that most of the climbing was done!
I spent the next 15 or so kilometres of black range running and walking and talking to people I met along the way while continuing to take the salt and pour water on myself. By the time I reached the deviation I felt so much better. It was here that the race really began for me and I was so thankful that I didn’t give up earlier on when times really were worrying. I kicked it into gear and ran as much as my body could. I kept telling myself that it was a privilege to be here and that yes, it was hard, but I was a runner and I would run. So I ran even when it hurt and when there was a hill I walked with purpose up it as my body couldn’t run it. I started to pass people along the way and I knew that I could make it before the cut off, where as before when I felt so awful, I wasn’t so sure.
I enjoyed the last 10km of weaving through the bush on the fire trails and single track and loved going through the aid stations along the way. So many vehicles carrying fallen runners from the conditions went past during this time. Apparently they had taken about 60 runners of the course this year, when normally it’s about 6!
As I reached about 3km from the finish line we started our steep descent. It was there that I caught a glimpse of my friends Kath and Melinda down the hill about 300m away. I couldn’t believe it. I was so excited. I shouted out to them but they didn’t hear me, so I made myself run as hard as it was down that hill. Finally I got closer and I called again. To my delight I heard Kath telling me to “get my butt down here”….and that I did. I managed to catch them with about a kilometre to go and we were all so excited to hear and see the finish line from this point. We had done it. All that training, doubts and fears and the journey we had been on throughout the race and we had made it. We ran as fast as our tired legs could take us down the steep zig zagging path towards the finish line. I could see my RMA friends in the crowd and I put my hands in the air and cheered. I was so proud. I was so happy. I ran through the finish line with my friends, just like we had started. 45km at 6 hours and 39 minutes of the hardest slog of my life. It is a choice to be strong. Always believe you can do hard things. Don’t give up, because sometimes the journey takes you through high points and low points, but in the end the finish line is sweet.
Leave A Comment