Now The Plan Is This

Now the emotion, dehydration, sunburn and chafing (b0dyglide works much better when you actually apply it) are starting to fade, it's time to do a proper race report.
I want to start by saying something a bit controversial. You don't have to believe in your goals or be able to imagine yourself succeeding at your Big Dream. These are great techniques for lots of people, of course, but I am living proof that Acting As If is another way to chase your dreams. My goal of a sub-6 hour marathon is very modest by most standards, but I couldn't begin to imagine myself achieving it. However, I trained As If I believed i could do it, and I raced As If I could do it. And I did do it!
The Big Day really began on Saturday when I came down from Bairnsdale on the bus. Let me tell you, three hours on an express bus when you're hydrating in anticipation of a warm-weather marathon is a challenge in itself! It was a pleasure to catch up with all the CRs at the pasta dinner - so many people who'd all worked very hard to achieve their goals, whether that was sub-3 (well done BigKev and Jeffer!), sub-6, making the cutoff or simply to finish a run uninjured. I was fortunate to be the guest of my dear friend Mrs Wombat. I don't know how I slept so well - but the last hour before the alarm went off was packed solid with crazy dreams of sleeping in, lost 1pods and missing shoes.
4.30am arrived all too soon at Chez Wombat. A quick cuppa and some toast and we were on our way. I don't know if it was nerves or something less suited to after-dinner reading but I needed more loo stops than normal - thank goodness for the squillions of facilities at the MCG - and barely made the start. I crossed the mat at 7.03. It already felt very warm and humid so I was glad I had my water bottle belt. Enouth details, LBTEPA~! I hear you cry. What of The Plan? I'm a slow learner for sure but am finally starting to work out what works for me. Watching the clock stresses me out, but I needed some way of planning my pacing so I didn't get too over-enthusiastic and run out of legs at the end. I like to run with music, so The Plan Was This: run two songs and walk one for 27km, then run three songs and walk one for the last 15. Drink every walk break and have a gel every hour. Don't laugh! As a wise friend said to me, when you doubt yourself and those 'not good enough' demons start circling, remember they're running their marathons, and you're running yours. Mine was going well. I enjoyed St Kilda Road, especially chatting to amazing brave Theresa (who I met at Run Melbourne and was doing her first marathon in honour of her late father) and funny Dave from Minyip in the Superman t-shirt and terry-towelling hat. It was nice to get around the corner and feel some breeze. The winners were zooming past as I headed down Fitzroy St - how amazing they are! I stuck to my plan and kept running and walking and drinking and listening to my music (a carefully-selected playlist exactly 7 hours long). There were lots of spectators at Albert Park because the course intersected with the half-marathoners. I could have done without the half runner cannoning straight into the back of me but no harm done, and it was great fun to high-five all the little kids, they were so excited.
The sun came out as we headed down the beach (cue sinister music dun dun DAH). It started to get hot (hello Captain Obvious) so I tweaked The Plan I can do that you know - at every walk break I drank, and poured water on my head and neck. Luckily the sports drinks at the water stations were blue, so the great Oh Crap Was That Gatorade? head-cooling mishap of GCM '10 was not repeated! I felt like shifting gears a bit at 25km but held back becuase it was hot and I still had a long way to go. I just wanted to get back to the shade of St Kilda Road and the gardens, really, but I trusted The Plan and stayed slow. It was a bit irritating to be chivvied off the road by motorcyle cops an hour before the off-road cutoff so the street-sweepers could clean up, but in a way it was a blessing because we were in the shade on the footpath. I kept trying to remember that anger is tiring and a luxury I couldn't afford.
I was very happy to get through the crowds on the footpath at the tram terminus on Fitzroy St - and even happier at how I was still able to steam up the hill. Could there be something in consistent training and not racing sick? Wow! Who knew? The lovely Baz, friendly CR and superfast marathoner, was working the water station at the top of the hill. They didn't have any water except the sachets and my hands were too tired/stipid/unco to open them, but Baz was good enough to fill my bottle for me. It was such a relief to get around the corner and out of the sun. Then the lovely blogger Paul appeared on his bike! So good to have the company and encouragement mate - and to finally meet a real live imaginary internet friend! It was a real boost and I appreciated it.
It was getting a bit hard to hold the three songs (especially Wagner, OMG I was SO OVER the seventy-five pretend endings to ride of the Valkyries) but I kept at it, and enjoyed my walks very much. Most of the km markers were gone so I didn't know how far we had to go, but that was ok becuase I couldn't do any sums in my head and freak myself out. This is a bit naughty but I was rather pleased to finally overtake a woman I knew - she'd been way ahead of me along the beach; the fact that I caught her was a validation of my determination to be patient patient patient - I would run my marathon and they could run theirs. Stay calm, stay hydrated and fueled, stay as cool as possible. Run three songs, walk one. We were well into the off-road time zone so we had a lot of kerbs and intersection to manage. We didn't have to stop many times for traffic lights and I was very careful not to trip. My feet were getting weary, they didn't want to step up and down! How happy I was to see the Arts Centre - I knew there was just a quick trip around the Shrine hahahahaha it's actually a Pig of a Hill for a Very Slow Marathoner and a couple more km to go. I'd Planned to walk all the way up the Shrine hill and that's what I did. There wasn't any water at any of the few stations that hadn't been packed up (please note I waS AN HOUR AHEAD OF THE CUTOFF that is so f$%^ing appalling) so I filled up my bottle from the bubblers.
Little did I know I was about to move from the off-road zone (rather rudely referred to as the "missed cutoff" route: I prefer the term 'thorough', myself) to the Freak Out Zone. As I said before, I hadn't Dared to Dream about a sub-six or anything like that. It's been a long difficult winter in many ways and I didn't need the risk of disappointment. But secretly, secretly, I wanted it so much. With 9km to go I glanced at my watch to see if it was gel o'clock yet.....and realised that, if I held on the The Plan like grim death, I could do it! Unfortunately this happened at the bottom of the big hill that The Plan said I had to walk up. I went as fast as I could but was consumed by worry that The Secret Dream would be lost just as I'd caught sight of it. It was time for drastic measures. After my last gel, I took off my watch and put it in the pocket of my water belt. For the last 8km, the Plan was to Trust the Plan.
If you'll excuse the colloquialism, bugger me but my legs were hurting. Luckily I was up to 'S" on the Playlist O' Fabulousness, so Pink got me going down St Kilda Road for the last time. So what if my legs are about to fall off? I am a rock star!
Now this is about when things turned into a...errr... I'm really trying to be as positive as possible so should probably choose a term other than clusterf#$%. But accuracy is important. You see, I'd rung the organiser's office earlier in the week to check that the off-road course was THE SAME AS LAS YEAR, and was assured that indeed it was. Needless to say I was disconcerted to directed down a hill I'd already run - I protested that I'd already been around the park, but the marshall was adamant. This was the way - not the long straight way past the post-race party where my friends were waiting. He was certain. Off I went down the hill, reminding myself again that anger was a luxury I didn't have energy for. It was hard to keep running when I was so worried we were sent the wrong way but I listened to my music and ignored the increasing cries of "enough!" from my by now very painful legs. Once we crossed Swan St things became even more concerning. I coudn't see any marshals so I backtracked (#$%!&$!) twenty metres or so to ask the people manning the road closure barriers. Up the Tennis Centre STAIRS? Are you SURE? There didn't seem anywhere else it made sense to go so up the sixty or so steep steps I went. Still there were no marshalls. I was running on adrenalin, yelling at people, where's the finish? To the right? ok. Through a gate and up a laneway? ok. If that's where the finish is, that's where I'm going. Part of me was livid that we were sent such a bullsh#$ way when we'd been out so long, there was no way they'd have sent the skinnyfasts this route. Another part of me was frantically wondering what time it was; the rest was just keeping on going until I somehow found the finish. I've run the railway tunnel bridge many times before but it's never been as high or as steep. I was just yelling at people where's the finish, which way to the finish? I must have looked demented, because I was. Mate -where's the finish, do you know which way the finish is? I just wanted get out of this nightmare blur of people and not knowing where I was supposed to be going. DOWN THE STAIRS? This had to be wrong but it was where people were pinting me and I had nowhere else to go. The marshall told me to hang a sharp right through some manky uneven gravel and past a couple of bins and then I was finally finally on Batman Avenue and only a couple of hundred yards from the gate. I wanted to die, I wanted to lie down and cry, I wanted that to stop running so much.... into the MCG I ran. What time was it? I could see the clock under the big screen. It was 12.57. I was going to get my sub-six!! The temptation to just stop and walk it in was never so strong, but I'd come so far and I was going to hurt myself just a little bit longer, keep going just to see if I could. I started to cry as I came up to the line. I never knew I could run like that. I'm so happy just thinking about it.
I'm not going to dwell on how gutted I was to not even offered an apology in lieu of a medal or the fact that we were misdirected onto a course that was 300m short. I spoke to the course director today; he was livid about the marshall who just left at the end of her shift without briefing her repleacment, who apparently couldn't read a map either. I have communicated all my concerns to the race organisers and will resend the email before MM11 in the hope that this can become a Great Race for all competitors.
What I am going to focus on is the >99% of Very Slow Marathon #3 that was wonderful - getting to do all my long runs through the bush, the beautiful network of support from CR, and of course the privelege of being friends with my dear brave Mrs Wombat, who finished in 6.57 with a sprained and bleeding hand from a fall at 16km.
It was harder this year, and not just becuase of being hot and lost and worried. It was harder but it was better becuase I'm working out the best way for me to go after my Big Dreams. If you have a Big Dream, please, please GO FOR IT - even if you can't believe it will ever happen. Becuase if I can, you can - and take it from me, it's more worth the struggle than you can possibly imagine. I might be a source of mirth to friends and loved ones as I get in and out of chairs and have no access to anything below my knees, but I haven't stopped smiling or taken off my medal.In a way I never will.
More anon.