This is my truth, tell me yours...

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa (note deliberate racey angle on bib)

It was finally here. The first of five - time to face the Truth, my first 50k. It wasn't without some drama before hand though. A quick recap...

I mentioned I had rolled my ankle roughly two weeks out before the event. Which, combined with two falls had given my confidence a hit. I thought that I would get over it, just have a couple of slow runs and put it to the back of my mind. So 10 days out from ToC I set off with the Bobbsey twins Trish and Kelly, who were also running the 50k, on a couple of loops of a 12k trail I have mapped out around Mt Clarence in Albany. The elevation gain is roughly the same as Truth, 30m (give or take) per km. A nice morning out I thought, and in many ways it was. These two are a laugh and a half to spend time with, never take themselves especially seriously and it was nice to spend a few hours not listening to the increasingly nagging voice in my head. 

PEW PEW PEW

That was until my foot started hurting. After my run at the Light Horse 3hr I suffered from pain in my left foot, possibly an intermetatarsal neuroma, which I attributed to the shoes I was wearing at the time. It went away of it's own accord after a couple of light weeks and I got on with training. I'd had no issues up until now, but seemingly out of nowhere something flared it up again. I had gone back to Altras to avoid this kind of crap, and now the first longish run in my Olympus 3.5's had ended up a disaster. All that hard work looked like it was going to come undone because of a fucking foot issue that had lay dormant for 800km. I went home and cried, and didn't run again until the day of the race. I spent the time icing the foot, slathering on anti-inflammatory cream, and sulking. I wasn't great to be around, but my wonderful wife got me looking outwards with some wise words and unconditional love. Three days before ToC I had my pre-race appointment with Bev and Dree at Sustainable Motion, my movement and rehab gurus. Dree lay me on the vibration plate, ran me through some stretches and talked me down from the ceiling through simply asking what was happening in my head and in my body. I left there feeling better, mentally and physically. Glenda and I set off for Perth. It's also our anniversary weekend, celebrating 22 years of marriage. 

When she said "'til death do us part", I don't think she expected me to live this long

We spend Friday eating, laughing and wandering around Fremantle before the anxiety of too many people and pre-race nerves kicks in and it all gets a bit too much. As with most of my Perth races, we're housed at my oldest and dearest friends house. Jez and Kelly are wonderful hosts, athletes themselves (Jez has competed at the Delirium 24hr cycle race for a number of years and was running the Perth Half Marathon the day after Truth, Kelly blogs her exploits at https://nottravellingatspeed.com/), and it's a place that I feel safe and can just be me. I repack my vest, mix my fluids and organise the drop bag. I also make a last minute decision to switch shoes to my Olympus 2.0's. With the recent foot blow up, the 3.5's haven't earned my trust just yet. Sleep comes easy (for a change), I dress in the 5am dark and get on the road. Everyone else will meet me there after they hit up parkrun (Glenda's first). Check-in is quick, and the Albany crew of Duncan, Kelz and Trishy are all here. We hop about nervously, eager to get on with it. Before too long, it's time to toe the line.

A thorn between two roses at check-in

"My advice is to go easy for the first 10k, as its mostly down hill and very easy to run too fast. You then have a long climb followed by a steep climb, a short down hill then a gradual up hill for the last 10k of each loop. It's a beautiful race. One of my all time favourites" - my training buddy Steve Williams, describing his experience with the course. I probably should have paid attention to all the times he said this during our runs together.

We're off, and I'm quickly in to a groove hitting the single trail to the first aid station at Serpentine Falls. A little too quickly. I keep checking my heart rate and it's high - low to mid 160's. Ahhhh shit. I try to dial the speed back, but it's not happening and I know it. I'm in to Aid1 well within the hour and I can hear Steve's voice in the back of my mind. What's done is done, I can't change it now. Now the serious business begins. 

Slow down, you move too fast

All of the vert for ToC is located in the back 2/3 of the course. Three climbs, with the infamous Three Steps in the middle. I'd been warned about it, and in many ways thought I was prepared. But Jesus... that's a bastard of a hill. The hill climbs, flattens, goes again to about a 30% incline, flattens and then kicks a third time for 200m of elevation in 1.5km. Hence the name. After the second step, I pull the phone out and send a succinct message to Facebook...

 

 

Once that's out of the system I put the head down and get on with it. I'm still cooking myself though. People come and go. I find myself playing leapfrog with another runner. Strangely, a lot of people know who I am. Quite often the phrase "I follow you on *insert social media platform here*" is used. It's an odd feeling, despite the fact I tend to put myself out there a bit. Hope I lived up to the picture you had guys. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I keep telling myself that I'm running my own race (this is MY Truth) and try not to get hooked in to running at someone else's pace. Any time someone asks how I'm doing, I give the reply "I've never felt better". It's a tooI picked up after listening to a podcast with Chad Wright, a US ultrarunner. Mind over matter...

Aid2 appears at the foot of climb #3. It's Sophee and her husband at the ready. I get a hug. I tell her I've gone out too fast. She says I'm looking fluid. Cool. That's what I needed to hear just now. Hiking again up the last climb, through the forest to Jarrahdale (oh hey, there's Vlad!) and I roll through the start/finish point in 2:49. Jez/Kel/Glenda are there to meet me, and Kel instantly becomes crew chief.

K: "What do you need?"

Me: "Soft bottles changed, Red Bull* and a new gel thingo." *The Red Bull was a dumb idea. With hindsight, I should have grabbed the Powerade bottle I had and gone out with it. It got humid and I lost a bit too much fluid*

K: "Here it is"

A quick kiss for Glenda and we go again. I don't feel too bad. I know I've spent some tickets. I know I'm going to be slower this lap than the last, but I still have it in my head that maybe I can give a sub 6hr time a shake. Everything needs to come up Millhouse. In the end, it almost did. 

All smiles coming in to half way. It got rough from here

As before, I get a good rhythm going on the single trail to Serpentine Falls. Although I took a wrong turn and detoured off about 200m before the trail went dead. Backtrack and get it right. FFS. That annoyed me. I'm in to Aid1(3?) in about an hour. Glenda/Jez/Kel are there again.

G/J/K: "Need anything?"

Me: (internally) Geez I dunno bloody hell I'm still pissed off about that wrong turn now you want me to think again? (externally) "A banana?" (internally) Bro, maybe some more fluids? (also internally) lolwut?

G/J/K: "Here"

Another kiss for Glenda. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand we're climbing again. I'm also cooking again, and feeling myself get dry. I've got two soft flasks on board (about 1.2L) and I start to really hook in to the fluids. That worries me; it's a long way to Aid2 from here. Bloody hell it's getting humid. I don't like this Clif bar (usually my favourite) and now this Nutri-Grain gel thing tastes like ass. AND NOW WHY THE HELL HAVE I GOT A STITCH GOING DOWN THIS FUCKING HILL?!?!?!? And now fucking Three Steps is here. Needless to say the head was starting to get a little out of control. I need to get this sorted, and soon. How am I feeling?

"I've never felt better" Clearly, I had felt better...

I'd already starting passing some of the 25k runners on the last climb, and hiked myself to near standstill passing more up Three Steps. I screamed at the top of the second step. I think I scared some of them. Others said wow. This course wasn't going to break me this way - I can do that all on my own. Again, this is MY Truth. But now I was lower on fluids than I would have liked, and becoming almost obsessed with my time. I keep checking my watch and doing calculations in my head over the projected time. If I do 7min/km from here I can go sub 6 ... if I run the next two at 5:30's I can do it ... if, if, if ... 

Here's the stupid thing. I'd revised my goal time three days before the event, from 6:30 to a flat 6 hours. My training had suggested it was achievable if it all went to plan. Yet here I was getting wound up big time over the time I was losing and the little setbacks became more upsetting. In many ways, trotting in the Aid2(4?) was a relief. Soph asked how I was, and I was honest: cooked. I downed two cups of water and walked out with another hug and some advice:

"It's just a parkrun to go" Sophee called after me. Always the great indicator. FYI Soph, it was a long parkrun. But you already knew that.

I spent the next 5km run/walking and reconciling with myself that I had given everything to go sub 6. Pride is a funny thing. At times, I was mentally beating up on myself, but the closer to Jarrahdale I got the happier I became. Because I had given it a red hot crack. The "magic" 6 hour time passed. I trotted out of the trees and on to the last little section of tarmac to the finish. Kel was waiting on the corner for me. One last little burst of speed to the finish.

Done and done

Clock stopped at 6:06:42. Which gave me 19th place. Yeah, that's not bad. In fact, I'm pretty damn pleased with it. Yeah, everything hurt for the next 24hrs, but that's because I earned it. Hobbling about at the Perth Half Marathon the next day was "interesting", and amusing to Glenda.

In the wash-up, there's a few things I've recognised that can be worked on:

• Fluids: I wouldn't say I was dry to start, but probably didn't get it quite right on Friday. So next time don't go in under-hydrated, and don't underestimate how much you may need in the back half of an event. I was in dire need of a drink by the time I hit Sophee and her aid station. That extra 600ml of Powerade would have alleviated a few issues.
• Hill training: It seems odd to say this after completing a plan that ended up with nearly 23000m of elevation on it, but I don't think I went about it very well. Too many short hills repeated, and not enough long grinds. Oh well, more excuses to hit the Stirling Ranges I guess.
• Don't sweat the little things: In the end, I'm only racing myself. I lost sight of that at times during the event, and instead of focusing on what I could control let things snowball and drag me down. The mental game is something I'm always looking to refine. Constant reassessment during the race helped me drag myself out of a hole and get it done, but it was touch and go for a bit. The moment of disappointment has passed, let it go and focus on what's next.

So I now have a few weeks to recover before Birdy's Backyard on Spetember 6: an ultra of undetermined length where we all run a 6.7km loops every hour on the hour until the last one stands. I just plan on a few long runs, but it'll mostly be maintenance mileage until I toe the line again. I'm not sure if my A goal is achievable, but I'll give it a go. Oh, and if you ask me how I am during the event, you may already know the answer...

"I've never felt better"

B. 

It was definitely 50k