Surprise! Part One – Screw The Half Marathon

Matilda was surprised

Oh. My. Dog. What HAS she done now?

I have a surprise for you today.  Because I’ve written a race report that nobody saw coming… Even me, to an extent.

Admittedly, I started writing this ‘introduction section’ which I’m calling Part One a week and a half ago, with nervously shaking hands and shallow breath.  Because I had an inkling about what might happen and I wanted to document some of the crazy thoughts I had in the lead-up.

Even though I had no intention of sharing such information until today, just in case I chickened out.

Chickened out of what?  You ask.  Be patient, I reply, I need to build it up.

You see, I accidentally found a race I wasn’t ready for.  And even though I knew it was ridiculous, I couldn’t get it out of my head.  I woke up at 2am thinking about it, night after night after night.  As I sat typing emails at work, dramatic and crystal-clear visions of the race interrupted my thoughts ominously.  I had butterflies in my stomach and a tingling in my toes whenever I thought about it.

This accidentally-found race, I felt, was calling to me.

I must reiterate: I wasn’t searching for another race.  I didn’t need a ridiculous challenge.  Regular readers will remember that I was (am!) already engrossed in training for a momentous running race: in fact the Sunshine Coast Half Marathon was only 40 days away when I sat myself down to begin writing this prelude to the race report. Today there are just 4 weeks to go until that highly-anticipated event.

I already have enough on my plate.

And let’s not forget that I find comfort in sticking to the training plan I map out, which allows me to follow logical and progressively harder steps that I set myself to gradually reach bigger goals.  That’s the smart way to train.

It would seem ridiculous, then (and totally stupid, probably) to skip some steps and sign up for a 26.4km trail run, which would take me over 3 hours to complete this morning.  Ridiculous.

But, well…

Surprise!
Continue reading

The Happiness Assassination

Grandpa the devil

Me and Grandpa, the assassinator.

I have suspected that Grandpa is out to get me for a while now. And today I can present to you irrefutable proof that he wants me to be miserable.

Continue reading

The Pavlova Made Me Do It

Crocs and stingers

Townsville. Where Shecantry will not go swimming in the sea, thanks anyway.

To those who follow me on Instagram, I must apologise. I promised to blog about the run I did in Townsville on Monday morning as soon as I got home on Tuesday AND IT IS NOW FRIDAY so I suppose I am officially fired as chief blogger.

In my defence, I have been getting deep and meaningful, thinking about my spirit animal. I think I am going through a hippy phase, brought on by all the meditating I inevitably end up doing on my runs.

If you are like me and struggle to do the whole ‘ohhmmmmm’ thing but you kind of know that meditating could be good for your poor frazzled brain, maybe give running a go. I think there is something about the rhythmic pounding of the pavement and sound of your hot breath heaving in and out. Or maybe it is the faintness and lack of oxygen getting to your head that makes you hallucinate that you are meditating. Either way, it seems to leave me feeling more at one with Mother Earth or something.

SIDENOTE: Individual results may vary, etc. You probably should never take anything you read on this blog as advice.

So anyway instead of blogging I was thinking about my spirit animal and hoping it might be a dog, because just like Matilda the dog who features heavily in my writing, I think I am soft, cuddly and pretty cute. I also love food and sleeping.

But interestingly, the more I pondered the various possibilities, I realised my spirit animal is not a dog. Nor a wolf or bald-headed eagle, both of which might seem appropriate to a badass triathlete.

I couldn’t ignore the evidence:

1. I am soft and sweet on the inside.

2. Sometimes a bit hard and crunchy on the outside.

3. I am a bit fruity, sometimes a bit nuts.

4. No one can tell if I am really Australian or not.

5. You either love me or hate me.

So… My spirit animal is apparently a Pavlova.

What the? Continue reading

Noosa Open Day (Not A Race) Report, Which I Won

Ready to swim

Noosa Open Day Swim

I signed up for the Noosa Open Day Swim Series back in March, when I was still recovering from the near-death experience of my Mooloolaba Swimming Race DNF (which stands for Did Not Finish, just in case you missed my triathlon dictionary post a while back)

I have never been under any illusions about the dangers of someone who can’t swim very well (IE me!) entering a real-life ocean.  I’ve maintained a healthy fear of drowning in The Deep Blue since the day I first signed myself up for this triathlon career.  The DNF didn’t actually change that at all: I was as frightened afterwards as I was before, but no more so.

If you cast your mind back, you may remember that I returned to the sea with sharks and jellyfish and seaweed and stuff at Bribie, just a couple of weeks after the Mooloolaba failure.  Then I did some more Grimsey sessions.  I even managed the Straddie Salute Tri,where I did not panic and drown myself.  So I think we can agree that I haven’t developed a phobia of ocean swimming.  Things have been progressing well.

But – yes there is a but! – I haven’t been back to Mooloolaba for swimming.  At all. Shane and I did go for breakfast one weekend and it was a beautiful day with not a wave in sight… And I couldn’t bring myself to even dip my feet into the water.

So maybe I have a thing going on with the ocean at Mooloolaba.  And what I realised after the DNF is that Noosa is really close to Mooloolaba.  It’s practically the same slice of ocean.

And if you haven’t been following along at home, I’ve already signed myself up for The Bloody Noosa Triathlon 2016, which kind of requires me to swim 1500m in the ocean there. Continue reading

Data-less… And Happy?

Geddit?

It’s about time

Following on from my rather pathetic whining during the Wild Horse Mountain 16.5km race and throughout the ensuing report, it is time to answer the million-dollar question that literally hundre Grandpa has asked me:

Why don’t I just buy myself the infamous fancy Garmin watch that measures distance as well as time?

Well the answer is complicated, because in case you hadn’t noticed I am a complicated soul.  Turn your brain on and try to keep up because before unleashing this blog post upon the world I re-read the dribble and counted approximately 8 instances where I contradict myself or make no sense.  Brace yourself… Continue reading

My First Trail Run – The WH@N Race Report

Wild Horse @ Night by AdiDwi

Wild Horse @ Night by AdiDwi

I do most of my run training in the late afternoon or at night time, so signing up for Wild Horse at Night (a race at night, as you may have guessed even if you didn’t read my previous post on it) seemed perfect. Except I had all day to get nervous. That bit wasn’t so perfect.

When I get nervous I turn into a psychopathic b*tch.  It’s unfortunate but true; My family suffers immensely.

I am sure there are plenty of you out there who really won’t understand why I might get nervous about a 16.5km trail run.  I know that for many people, this is the equivalent of ‘a walk in the park’ and perhaps a ‘fun event’.  Because the comments I got on the last post mostly used the word fun and even Grandpa said ‘it sounds exciting’ and that’s when I realised I was possibly alone in my fear of this event.

But don’t be too judgmental of my wimpiness – not only was this race the longest distance I’ve ever committed to running in my entire life, it was also my first outing on the trails since I was a schoolkid.

Just turning up at the start line was going to be a win for me.  For some reason, 16.5km seemed like a much more imposing challenge than 14km had.  Two hours of running (the time I expected to finish in) seemed like an almost impossible ask for my old-lady joints.

You may be asking why I even signed up for the event if I felt this way, but trust me when I say that the thought process when signing up for races goes something along the lines of ‘If I pay money to run it then I will deserve to complete it’. Zero logic or forethought is involved.

It got to the point yesterday where I had to tell myself that if I could just make it through to 4pm (when I could finally get changed and head off to Wild Horse Mountain car park, aka the start line) then I would have made it through the worst bit.  Yes, overcoming the nervousness and just turning up actually became a bigger mental challenge than running for two hours through treacherous trails with snakes and rocks in the dark.  Feel free to judge me for that.
Continue reading

Wild Horse at Night

Wild Horse at Night confirmation email

Another registration!

Thank you to the organisers of Wild Horse at Night (also known as WH@N) for providing me with the best blog post title I ever had. It sounds so romantic and dramatic, don’t you agree? Wild Horse at Night. NEIGH!! I particularly like that when combined with the previous post, the blog has developed something of an equestrian theme this week.  I should have themed weeks more often, I think.

Wild Horse at Night is a race I have signed up for, taking place this coming Saturday night. As the name would suggest to those of you familiar with the Sunshine Coast here in Australia, it is held on and around Wild Horse Mountain (which is one of the Glass House Mountains at Beerburrum)

Yes, this means it is a trail run – or a cross country run, if you are from the UK. Although POMs and ex-POMs (such as myself) should be careful if we use that phrase in other countries, because I used it myself in a conversation a few days ago and my friend thought I literally meant I was going to run across the country.

SIDENOTE: I do class myself as crazy but I seriously wonder how I must come across to others when people who know me think there is any kind of likelihood that I would attempt to run across the country of Australia.  For the record, the likelihood is definitely zero.

So anyway, what’s the deal with WH@N and trail running? Continue reading

I’m Riding The Unicorn, Don’t Worry

The unicorn I call improvement

Remember this?  The elusive unicorn that I call Improvement, with her fairy helpers

The deeper I get into this triathlon training, the less likely it becomes that exciting things happen on a daily basis.  That’s how it feels to me, anyway.

Maybe you guys would actually be really pleased to hear about the cycling I did on the spin bike at the gym for an hour, while watching ‘Millionaire Hot Seat’ and Channel 9 News on Tuesday night.  But I doubt it, so I don’t write about it.

Tonight I went to the gym where I did a bike ride and watched TV.  I watched that slightly weird smug guy Eddie Maguire quiz a bunch of people on the most random facts you could ever hope to not fill your brain with.  My favourite question required the contestant to finish the apparently ‘typical Aussie slang’ term ‘It’s London for a _______’ and the answer was brick.  Not a single person in Australia knew the answer to the question.  Then I watched Channel 9 News where they evidently haven’t heard of Syria or anything.  The top story was the weather ‘event’ that had passed 4 days prior.

But in spite of my training not being note-worthy, you should rest assured that I am indeed making some improvements.  In fact, the Unicorn That Is Improvement has been broken by my relentless pursuit of it, and I’ve saddled her up for a slow and challenging trek through this mysterious triathlon forest.

Take swimming for instance. Continue reading

City2South Race Report, or My Quest to be Mates With Ronda

Medal

The benefit of running over triathlon-ing is getting a medal at the finish line!

As I ran around the house yesterday morning, trying to get ready for my epic trek into the city, I stubbed the little toe on my right foot. You know how it goes; I kicked the lounge chair that I have successfully walked past approximately 927 times a day for the past 7 years and which has not moved more than a millimetre in that time.

It hurt like a mother-effer, as all toe stubbings do. I performed the mandatory doubling-over, followed by swift sucking in of breath through my teeth. When I was satisfied that I wasn’t going to vomit, I continued with my preparations.

About thirty minutes later, I realised my toe was still throbbing and was starting to hurt more as time wore on. I tried to touch it but that hurt too much. I stared at my toe.

‘Don’t you be broken, you useless flap of bone and skin’ I warned.

‘Too late,’ it may as well have said.  Continue reading

Mother Nature Vs City2South

Radar image

It is raining a bit

I am really pleased that I have a race tomorrow, to force me to do some goddam exercise. I have done close to nothing all week, which is most unlike me. Sometimes life just gets in the way and your usual routine is a physical – and literal – impossibility.

So I am pleased, except that on Thursday I started getting messages from my crew (ie, Grandpa) that Brisbane was going to be in for torrential rain this weekend. I was travelling at the time and hadn’t seen a weather forecast for about 4 days, so I told Grandpa he was a bloody liar and hung up on him.

I do not like to run in torrential rain.

Then I arrived back to Brisbane with this weird wet stuff falling from the sky and had to decide on a new approach. I love running in the rain, I told myself. It will make me a badass, and none of my family will want to come and cheer me on (which usually makes me feel guilty, especially for an unimportant training race such as the City2South) Continue reading