Clock off, Trail on.
2012 was a year focussed intently on the marathon. Canberra I wanted to go under 3.10 and did
3.08. Melbourne I wanted to go faster. I aimed at 2.59 and went 3.12. Training
was all about the clock. Race pace sessions of up to 16km at sub 4m15s per km;
track sessions of 400s, 800s, 1200s and 1600s; and fast finish longs to 34km
with the last ten at race pace (never quite nailed one of those). Although I didn’t
achieve everything I wanted, I still came out of it with my two fastest
marathon times to date. There was some temptation to continue on and chase
those 8 minutes to a sub 3 but after Melbourne, the greater draw was back to
the trails. Too many digits on the road.
2013 started with a sense of freedom. I wanted to do events
that I hadn’t done before. That’s where Coburg 6 Hour came in to play. Ok,
sure. It’s very much not a trail run. But even running in circles for, as it
turned out, 63km on a 400m aths track had nowhere near the pressure of a
marathon. It was refreshing to just cruise around and around and around, enjoying
a new experience. Might have been more refreshing and more enjoyable if it wasn’t
36 degrees on the day but aye, what are ya gonna do?
People talk of their, ‘A’ event, or ‘A’ race. That being the
event they are placing most importance on. The event, that all their training
is geared towards. The event where they want to give it an absolute smashing. This
year I have no such events. But the one I had most been looking forward to was Mount
Macedon 50km, closely followed by You Yangs.
Macedon holds great memories dating back to 1988. I was a 17
year old, ‘good’ Catholic boy on a year 12 school retreat. During a break we
all, stealth like, trekked off to the pub. It was so fun. Jukebox blasting,
beers flowing and a bunch of underage blokes having a ball. Fair to say there were
big time recriminations as some mighty slurred speech filled the afternoon
prayer session that day. Ah well, what are ya gonna do?
25 years later, just after dawn on a Sunday, the whole field
of runners walked a couple of hundred metres from registration to start line,
the top of Mount Macedon. A grey mist covered us all in and as we walked the
Last Post rang out. Before the pain ahead it was a chance to focus, centre and
reflect. Some closure perhaps on the retreat of ‘88 that had gone a bit pear
shaped.
There were a few pieces of advice about Macedon that I took
on board.
1)
It will be cold – Correct
2)
The first couple of kms is treacherous, slippery
and technical – Correct
3)
The last 20km is harder than the first 30km – Oh
my god, so freakin’ correct.
The temperature only affected me once I had stopped and
finished. It took less than five minutes for me to be shivering uncontrollably.
STOP!!!!!!! Everyone get out of ya
chairs, remove your hats and raise a glass to the volunteers. They were out
there all day. ALL DAY I say. The coldness on the day equated directly to the
puffiness of the jackets worn. Sooooo PUFFY.
The first couple of kms of the race could easily have been
the only couple of kms of the race. It wasn’t out of control dangerous but when
you’ve got the whole field in the same place at the one time and you throw in
exuberance and no pain yet excitement all going downhill, you got yourself a
recipe for disaster. I was happy to sit back and take it easy.
The first 30km was a breeze. At about 28km mark I thought
how disappointed I would be if I had only entered the 30 and my race was nearly
over. I was loving everything about Macedon at that stage. It was the absolute
antithesis of my 2012. It was exactly what I had wanted to do, to run free.
The last 20km of Macedon was not a breeze. It was the
toughest few hours I’ve ever run. It was either up or down. There didn’t seem
to be much flat in it at all. The downhills were slippery, rocky and steep. You
couldn't get any value out of them. A lot of them just couldn't be run. So my
mantra became: ‘Whenever you can run, you have to run’! My body was wrecked
late in the event and if I didn’t keep talking to myself and ordering myself to
run then I just wouldn’t have. It was getting nasty.
The last few kms were straight uphill. It was unrelenting.
There was no respite. Logic tells you that ‘this too shall pass’. But logic only
did the first 30 at Macedon.
Crossing the finish line I commented how brutal it had been.
I was amazed, exasperated. A sea of puffy jackets laughed at my pain. Macedon
is not easy on anyone. I swore I would not return but I will.
Now I train waiting for You Yangs. I still wear a watch
every time I go out but this year the digits just don’t matter.
