Follow the Yellow Balloon

I had my very own 'Dorothy' moment yesterday.

The conditions were perfect: no tornadoes or wild winds from the West. There weren't even any winged monkeys to distract me from the task in hand. Nor was there a road of yellow brick.

But there was a yellow balloon.

I decided to aim for a finish time of 3.10 which means trying to run each km in 4 mins, 30 secs. I went through the first km in 4.25. So far, so good, only 41.2 to go. At 2k, the watch said 8:40 so I knew I had run a little faster and tried to calm myself down to a riot. At 3k my watch said 12:36 and I decided to suspend looking at the watch till 10k to offset the stress that was building about peaking too soon. That's when I spotted the yellow balloon.

I ran along behind it for a while trying to see what it said. It was attached to a man who looked rather fit and he was running beside another man who had a flag extending from his head. I soon realised they were 3 hour pacers and I decided in that moment to suspend what my scarecrow brain had planned for me and try and keep them in my sights.

They had attracted quite a following. I usually end up running on my own in races for some reason. It's always crowded at the start but I quickly fall into a running vacuum. It was a different experience to run with a large pack of 15-20, mainly men. There were 2-3 women including me. We were all slight, no taller than 5"2 and I have no doubt that running behind this group helped us all, like 'drafting' in cycling. Well, there have to be some advantages of hailing from the Land of Munchkins.

I couldn't keep up the whole time so I spent the race falling behind and catching up like the tide going in and out. At points I didn't have the heart to keep up, especially after drink stations where my strategy was to stop and walk for a bit while swallowing, as I can't really drink and run at the same time. A sense of pride provided bursts of energy when I heard voices from the crowd announcing in awe, "they're the 3 hour group", or, "that's 3 hour pace, son". Still, I held myself in check, not pushing too soon. Pride comes before a fall and I was nowhere near sub 3 yet.

I had heard of a dreaded hill at 35k and so I made a surge to stick with the pacers. This helped a lot as they spent the whole time commentating and chatting. "Tram tracks ahead!", "drinks station on the left", "hey, look there's that guy we paced in his first marathon in Bangkok!". I found it quite entertaining which was a great distraction from suffering and self-doubt. After running with them for a few minutes, I felt a new wave of courage come over me and I decided to make a break and move in front of the 3 hour group.

The feeling of elation that came over me at this point was the only power I could call upon to offset the pain. My heart and lungs were in great shape but my legs and my abdominal muscles were crying out for help. My head was starting to hurt a little too as the temperature crept up and dehydration kicked in.

But the end was nigh. There was a gift of a downward spiral into the MCG. "Take the camber, take the camber", I chanted to myself having no idea what it actually meant, as I approached the entrance to the stadium. I felt my legs continue to build speed as I heard first a steward call out, "marathoners to the right" and then my brother's voice rise up through the noise of the crowd, "come on Julie, you're doing a great time!". I sensed the excitement in his tone. He knew that I was on the verge of going sub 3 but I didn't dare look at my watch again. I had no idea how much further I had to go inside the MCG as I took the middle lane reserved for marathon runners. Glancing up, I could see that there was at least 200m left to the inflatable red archways that marked the end. My legs were going strong and I pushed through, overtaking one other runner on the way to my very own Emerald City.

After the race, I was overwhelmed by emotion and sobbed quietly to myself, clicking my heels together. Out of nowhere a man appeared with a huge microphone and beside him, a TV camera.

"Can we interview you for Marathon TV?"
"Of course." I replied, choking back the tears and wondering whether this was a real or imaginary moment, such is the feeling of post traumatic marathon disorder.
"Can you tell us a little bit about your experience today?"
"Well," I began, "there were no wild winds or winged monkeys, but there was a yellow balloon."

Julie finished the Melbourne Marathon on Sunday 14th October 2012 in 2:58:12 and wants to thank everyone who helped her on her journey. You know who you are.

Pressure is a privilege...

So goes the title of tennis legend Billie Jean King's book about lessons she has learned from life.

I'm going to adopt this as my mantra as I attempt to run the marathon tomorrow in 3.10 or better. I wonder if it will work as I struggle with the hill I hear is awaiting at 35k...

The coach at my running club in Australia posted a picture of the finish on Facebook a few minutes ago which is going to be etched in my mind's eye as inspiration.

My Scottish running coach always says, "you're only as good as your next race". This helps me keep a sense of perspective. No matter how well or how badly tomorrow goes, there will be other races, other moments in time to relish like this one.

I often find myself trying to convey this sense of perspective to the pupils I have who play tournaments. The reality is that most people lose more matches than they win, especially in the beginning. Players can get so disheartened but if they could see that it's all part of a long journey and become more goal orientated then I think it would help them to fulfil their potential in a more holistic way, learning valuable life lessons as they go.

For now it's early to bed, early to rise and hope to report on a good time tomorrow.

Back to the G

G is for guts.

The last six miles of a marathon show you what you're made of as a runner and as a person. You've exhausted the glycogen in your muscles and the benefit of your training has been used up. It's all down to the power of your mind.

In my case it's also down to physical guts. I've experimented with diet a lot over the last twelve months and I think healthier eating has allowed me to become leaner and faster. I've been consuming more good carbs and taken on more protein and good fats.

However, although my legs and lungs usually hold out ok, my stomach lining doesn't really like being pounded around for hours on end. I've been practising pre marathon meals but haven't found the right fit so I've concluded that its going to be porridge and toast for dinner on Saturday night. I'll liven it up with a selection of jams and peanut butters. Life in the fast lane, eh?

The race starts on Sunday at 7 am so it will be up at 4 am for a plate of porridge for breakfast too.

More in future posts about diet.

G is for goals.

When the race has been run next week, there will be nothing left to work for unless there's another goal in place. My goals for the rest of 2012 are to get my 5k and 10k times down and to do this in interesting locations in Australia or New Zealand!

'Mind is everything; muscles, mere pieces of rubber. All that I am, I am because of my mind.'

Paavo Nurmi, nine time Olympic hold medallist.

Commitment

I regularly listen to a running podcast called 'marathon talk' for hints and tips on training. it is hosted by Martin Yelling (husband of Liz Yelling) and Tom Williams (UK Director of parkrun).

A recent discussion on the show highlighted the importance of commitment in training. There are two aspects to this:

1. The commitment to turning up in the first place ie not missing a session where possible, getting out there every day to practise. Nae excuses!

2. The commitment you bring with you to each session in terms of intensity, purpose and quality

In terms of number 1, Tom and Martin got into a discussion about the triathletes, Alistair and Jonny Brownlee. Tom had been listening to their coach, Jack Maitland, talking about their commitment to training. There is a cycling group that trains in Leeds called the Chain Gang. Usually 50-100 riders turn up every Thursday night. One particularly wet night in the Spring of 2012 only seven people turned up. Three of those seven went on to win medals at the Olympics this year. They were Alistair and Jonny Brownlee and Lizzie Armisted.

Now of course I can't say that if you turn up to every session you will win an Olympic medal. But the story about training in the rain reminded me of all the children who turn up no matter what for coaching. Their parents tell me that, try as they will, they cannot dissuade them from coming to the club. They are an inspiration and it makes me realise more than ever the duty of care we have to all the children in front of us but perhaps these athletes deserve a little bit extra.

It is their commitment to the session, the enthusiasm, drive and determination they display that makes them a little bit special. I wish I could bottle up that commitment and take a spoonful every day with breakfast. The commitment that we decide to bring to a session is directly proportionate to the amount of value that we gain from a session. And I say decide because, for me, this is the mental side of things. It is never easy. I often want to skip a run, not try so hard, cut a few miles here and there. And I do admit to doing these things. But it's not worth it. You need to set the bar high and try your hardest to meet and exceed those expectations.

And so I will try and take my own advice in the next ten days as I build towards Melbourne Marathon 2012!

- Practice does not make perfect. Perfect practice makes perfect.

www.marathontalk.com if interested in a good running podcast.
Www.parkrun.com if interested in free 5k timed runs for the whole family all over the world!

Next blog.... Back to the G....