Competitions Health and fitness

[Jonnoo]

Thanks mate.
So there are water stations every 2.5km.
You would usually use nearly every station at that frequency?

Hmmm that's pretty frequent, typically about every 5km for me and drinking on the fly is a bit of a skill in itself. About half gets in the mouth and the other half all over yourself, especially in cups (small bottles at London were awesome, no spillage at all).
Definitely better to get small amounts in more frequently though so whatever you are comfortable with. See how you feel as you are progressing. Get yourself a loo visit as close to the start time as possible too.

What's your gel plan?

 

[Makeshift Park]

What's your gel plan?

Great question.

[goes rustling through the bottom of my spice drawer, where the gels are located]

So I've got 2 SIS ones left, and lots of gross "winners" gels.

I should probably buy another 5 SIS ones, so there's enough for 1 before the race, and one for every 30 minutes afterwards.

Does that sound about right?

 

[Jonnoo]

Great question.

[goes rustling through the bottom of my spice drawer, where the gels are located]

So I've got 2 SIS ones left, and lots of gross "winners" gels.

I should probably buy another 5 SIS ones, so there's enough for 1 before the race, and one for every 30 minutes afterwards.

Does that sound about right?

Sounds pretty good! You are looking at 1 before and about 5 during.
You may find > 30km they're a bit trickier to open (the brain is a bit mushy), I'd be curious with your feedback on this.

 

[Ligma]

Damn I actually cannot believe the season is over this Saturday…

I’m pretty happy how my neck has pulled up, been a horrible past few weeks with neck pain and headache, motion sickness, nausea, etc.

I need to come up with some off season goals…

 

[Ether]

Great question.

[goes rustling through the bottom of my spice drawer, where the gels are located]

So I've got 2 SIS ones left, and lots of gross "winners" gels.

I should probably buy another 5 SIS ones, so there's enough for 1 before the race, and one for every 30 minutes afterwards.

Does that sound about right?

Don't wear the hydration vest. It'll slow you down. In maras I grab a cup of water at every station and basically throw it at my face so i drink a little. As Jonoo said, drinking a reasonable amount from a cup is a skill. 5 gels seems like overkill to me. I don't have one before the start. What's the point? Your cells hold enough glycogen to get you past the half way point. I've usually had my first one at about half way and another one or two after then. But the answer is "whatever you've been doing in training". Don't change your water / nutrition plan on race day. And don't try any new shoes, socks or anything else - except ditching the hydration vest.

 

[HARPSichord]

Makeshift Park I used a SPI-belt in my marathon. Held the 5 gels I took just fine and isn't as bulky as a hydration vest.

Also I agree with the drinking on the run being an absolute challenge. I was so sticky by the end because of all the electrolyte drink I had spilled over myself.

And good luck for Sunday!

 

[Makeshift Park]

5 gels seems like overkill to me. I don't have one before the start. What's the point? Your cells hold enough glycogen to get you past the half way point. I've usually had my first one at about half way and another one or two after then.

Yeah fair enough. I just started buying them a little over six months ago, on the recommendations of folks on this forum, I honestly have no idea about best gel practice.

I guess for some reason I thought it would take more than half an hour for my body to extract the carbs and my glycogen levels would start depleting after an hour.

But now that I'm consulting Dr Google, it seems like its less than 15 minutes for the gels to kick in, and more like 90 minutes for my body's glycogen levels to start getting low.

As you say, I might as well err on the side of having too many this time around, given its what I've been doing for the past couple months anyway.

 

[joegreen]

Bend the knee: The game-changing procedure for athletes with ACL injuries​

ByAndrew Webster​

June 30, 2023 — 11.58am


For the best part of 15 years, Tom Cross stood alongside his famous father, Merv, as they reconstructed the knees of the country’s best athletes.
If a player ruptured the anterior cruciate ligament in their knee, many ended up at Hunter’s Hill or the Mater private hospitals where father operated and son assisted.

Merv Cross (seated), his son Tom Cross and grandson, patient and doctor Matt Dowsett, with the new brace that aids recovery from ACL injuries.CREDIT:WOLTER PEETERS
Merv was already a legend, having pioneered keyhole surgery and arthroscopic ACL reconstruction of knees, prolonging the careers of cricket icons Dennis Lillee, Michael Holding, Clive Lloyd and Balmain hero Wayne Pearce among hundreds more.
His son followed him into sports medicine, and together they worked on the knees of Sydney Swans captain Paul Kelly, surfing icon Tom Carroll and rugby league international Justin Hodges.

“Watching Merv operate was like watching Federer play tennis,” Tom says. “Beautiful hands, every step quick but measured, the tissues don’t get hurt. I’m biased of course, but he was beautiful to watch.”
Now, the Crosses have “found another way”, unearthing a game-changing non-surgical procedure that allows the ACL to heal naturally, without invasive surgery, without ACL grafts made from the patient’s own hamstring or patella tendon, the tendon harvested from their parent, or the tendon from a dead person or animal.

Under the “Cross Bracing Protocol”, patients “bend the knee”, which isn’t a Game of Thrones reference but instead relates to the knee being set in a brace at 90 degrees for four weeks before being progressively straightened over a 12-week period.
The irony is too tantalising to ignore: the most well-known surname in sports orthopaedic surgery has found a method to avoid the procedures that made them famous in the field.


In Australia, 90 per cent of ACL injuries lead to surgery. With the Cross Bracing Protocol, it is predicted this number may be reduced to 50 per cent.
“In 50 per cent of patients we believe it’s like getting in a time machine and giving you back your knee, untouched, like it was a millisecond before you injured it,” Tom explains. “No one’s taken your hamstring or your patella tendon. No one’s drilled tunnels through your knee. You don’t have a tendon trying to change its character and become a ligament. A healed ACL has its own beautiful, anatomical origin and insertion. Its own blood and nerve supply. All these things are important.”

Rugby player Kaipo Olsen-Baker ruptured her ACL in the first match of the 2020 season. She made her debut for New Zealand last year.CREDIT:GETTY
While more severe ACL ruptures are likely to require surgery, a study of 80 athletes found 90 per cent had evidence of the ligament healing after three months of bracing. About half achieve excellent anatomical healing.
The study, written and researched in conjunction with the University of Melbourne, was peer-reviewed in the British Journal of Sports Medicine this month and the response has been favourable.

Dr Stephanie Filbay, senior research associate in the Department of Physiotherapy at the university, says some surgeons are interested in taking part in a randomised clinical trial. “If the benefits of this treatment are supported by a clinical trial, this could result in a paradigm shift, whereby people aim to heal a ruptured ACL rather than reconstruct it with surgery,” Dr Filbay said.
The ACL – a three-centre ligament that runs through the knee linking the thigh and shin bones – is the most feared acronym in sport, particularly skiing, soccer, netball and Australian rules, which have the highest incidences of ACL ruptures.

‘Your heart sinks for the athlete because he or she knows what’s ahead ... Some come back within nine months, some unfortunately never.’
Tom Cross

Nevertheless, the unnerving “pop” when a leg is contorted in a way it should not, is common in many codes at all levels.
When ACLs rupture, it’s usually a 12-month recovery. Surgery is expensive, costing between $15,000-20,000. ACL surgery in children is challenging and the outcomes are not as reliable as adults. About 30 per cent of patients under 20 who have ACL reconstructive surgery suffer another rupture.

As a former team doctor for the Swans, the Melbourne Storm, Duntroon military college and even Cirque du Soleil, Tom has seen many ACL ruptures but none worse than those suffered by retired Swans 2012 premiership winner Alex Johnson

Alex Johnson

Age

32

Ht

194cm

Wt

92kg

Pos.

Def

Career

Season

Last 5

D

13.6

3star

K

8.7

3star

HB

4.8

3star

M

4.4

4star

T

2.2

4star

MG

111.5

2star

No current season stats available

D

12.2

3star

K

8.2

4star

HB

4.0

3star

M

3.0

3star

T

1.6

4star

, who had five reconstructions on one knee and two on the other during his career.
“Your heart sinks for the athlete because he or she knows what’s ahead,” he says. More often than not, surgery and 12 months of physiotherapy rehabilitation. “Every month before 12 months you come back earlier increases the risk of re-rupture. Some come back within nine months, some unfortunately never.”
The genesis of the Crosses’ bracing protocol happened by chance, as many innovations do.
In 2014, Tom was at the Stadium Clinic at Moore Park, consulting 19-year-old Emma Rodger, who had ruptured her ACL playing netball. She was ashen-faced and crying, knowing two of her teammates had undergone ACL surgery on their knees, only for both procedures to fail.
“Is there another way?” she asked.

Merv, who was two years into retirement, was in the clinic doing rehab after – ironically – having his knees replaced. He heard the crying and pulled back the curtains.
“There is another way,” he said. “In the 1970s, we’d put plaster on patients that didn’t want surgery or who weren’t eligible. Some got better, others didn’t. If it doesn’t work, you haven’t burnt any bridges. You’ve just lost a bit of time. You can always have surgery.”
“I’m in,” she said.
Emma’s knee completely healed, and she was back playing sport unrestricted within a year. Since then, 373 patients have opted for the Cross Bracing Protocol with 90 per cent of ACLs healing.
Patient No.5 was Merv’s grandson Dr Matthew Dowsett, who had torn his ACL after being hit by a hip-drop tackle while playing rugby union for Sydney University in 2018. A 21-year-old medical student at the time, Matthew later became the second author of the research after making a full recovery.

Three generations of doctors, all former athletes, sharing a love of sport, a love of athletes, now on a mission to help them.
Tom, the senior author of the research, and his co-researchers have developed a classification for acute ACL injuries, believing indicators on an MRI scan can predict the success of bracing. “We still very much need the expertise of surgeons for those patients with profoundly injured ACLs that are unlikely to heal adequately or who have suffered other significant injuries to their knee that require immediate expert surgery,” Tom says.
https://www.bigfooty.com/forum/javascript:void(0);

Another key to ACL healing is timing. Ideally, knees are braced within four to seven days after the injury. The magic happens in the first month with the reattachment of the ligament ends likened to the movie Avatar, when members of the Na’vi tribe connect their tails with a direhorse.
“If you get in early, and bend the knee at 90 degrees, that’s where the ACL is shortest,” Merv says. “Therefore, those two ruptured ends come together. Just like putting broken bones back in position. That gives you a chance to heal. The clock is ticking. If you don’t do it early enough, you will have two capped or closed-over stumps incapable of healing.”

Patient 42 was Gabriella Taylor – the teenage daughter of Olympian and athletics great Melinda Gainsford-Taylor – who ruptured her ACL in 2020 while playing netball.
Gainsford-Taylor had heard about the Cross Bracing Protocol on the grapevine. She was reticent about her still growing 15-year-old daughter having surgery, and not thrilled about donating one of her own overworked hamstrings as a possible graft.

Gabriella Taylor ruptured her ACL playing netball.
They met Tom, who took two hours to explain their options, including the science of the new pioneering treatment.
“It’s the best thing we could ever have done,” Gainsford-Taylor says. “We knew the risks going into it. If it didn’t work, it was going to set her back 12 weeks but if you can heal an ACL without surgery, for someone that young, then I think you should.”

Gabriella bent the knee, healed her ACL, abandoned netball and focused on her athletics career as a sprinter. She recently made a national team.
Patient 64 was women’s rugby union forward Kaipo Olsen-Baker, who ruptured her ACL in the first match of the 2020 season while playing club rugby for Palmerston North in New Zealand.

​

“Two girls tackled me. One went high, another went low, and it was the worst pain I’d ever felt,” she says. “Dr Ra Durie suggested I call Tom Cross. I was back playing within eight months.”
Olsen-Baker made her debut for New Zealand last year. “I don’t even notice the knee now,” she says. “I don’t feel it.”

The study has received backlash from some quarters. The Washington Post this week quoted Timothy Hewett, a professor of orthopaedic surgery at the Marshall University Joan C. Edwards School of Medicine, who said it “does not seem plausible” that ACLs heal themselves. “The term ‘healing’ should not be used by the authors in this context,” he said.
Hundreds of successful recoveries suggest otherwise. “I can understand the scepticism from our colleagues,” Tom says. “That the healing ACL is just scar tissue. Our follow-up MRI and functional outcomes for patients suggest otherwise. What has motivated me the most pursuing this research is the young children who suffer this injury and those young athletes that cannot afford or have access to surgery. They now have another way; in many cases, we believe, a better way.”
The greatest challenge is convincing elite teams to take the same leap of faith. In the past four years, Tom has consulted numerous professional athletes whose ACL ruptures were perfect candidates for bracing instead of surgery.
“Two professional athletes wanted to do it but were talked out of it by their partner or player manager,” Tom says. “I truly understand it. The elite athlete wants to get operated on and get back as soon as possible. I would’ve been the same when I was head doctor at the Swans. It’s not just the athlete who makes the decision. The entire medical team, the coaches and the player manager all have their say. Professional codes simply need more data and longer follow-up before being convinced.”
Perhaps in a few years, when the long-term benefits of bracing are apparent, the club doctors at the country’s biggest clubs may adopt the protocol.

If Merv Cross can seek out and accept change, surely others can.

​

“It’s a huge paradigm shift for someone who’s devoted his life to pioneering ACL reconstructive surgery and doing it for 35 years to then say there’s another way and to not shut it down,” Tom says of his father. “But the real pioneers are the extraordinary young men and women who were prepared to take a risk on unpublished research.”
For more information: www.healacl.com.

 

[Themanbun]

Bend the knee: The game-changing procedure for athletes with ACL injuries​

ByAndrew Webster​

June 30, 2023 — 11.58am


For the best part of 15 years, Tom Cross stood alongside his famous father, Merv, as they reconstructed the knees of the country’s best athletes.
If a player ruptured the anterior cruciate ligament in their knee, many ended up at Hunter’s Hill or the Mater private hospitals where father operated and son assisted.

Merv Cross (seated), his son Tom Cross and grandson, patient and doctor Matt Dowsett, with the new brace that aids recovery from ACL injuries.CREDIT:WOLTER PEETERS
Merv was already a legend, having pioneered keyhole surgery and arthroscopic ACL reconstruction of knees, prolonging the careers of cricket icons Dennis Lillee, Michael Holding, Clive Lloyd and Balmain hero Wayne Pearce among hundreds more.
His son followed him into sports medicine, and together they worked on the knees of Sydney Swans captain Paul Kelly, surfing icon Tom Carroll and rugby league international Justin Hodges.

“Watching Merv operate was like watching Federer play tennis,” Tom says. “Beautiful hands, every step quick but measured, the tissues don’t get hurt. I’m biased of course, but he was beautiful to watch.”
Now, the Crosses have “found another way”, unearthing a game-changing non-surgical procedure that allows the ACL to heal naturally, without invasive surgery, without ACL grafts made from the patient’s own hamstring or patella tendon, the tendon harvested from their parent, or the tendon from a dead person or animal.

Under the “Cross Bracing Protocol”, patients “bend the knee”, which isn’t a Game of Thrones reference but instead relates to the knee being set in a brace at 90 degrees for four weeks before being progressively straightened over a 12-week period.
The irony is too tantalising to ignore: the most well-known surname in sports orthopaedic surgery has found a method to avoid the procedures that made them famous in the field.


In Australia, 90 per cent of ACL injuries lead to surgery. With the Cross Bracing Protocol, it is predicted this number may be reduced to 50 per cent.
“In 50 per cent of patients we believe it’s like getting in a time machine and giving you back your knee, untouched, like it was a millisecond before you injured it,” Tom explains. “No one’s taken your hamstring or your patella tendon. No one’s drilled tunnels through your knee. You don’t have a tendon trying to change its character and become a ligament. A healed ACL has its own beautiful, anatomical origin and insertion. Its own blood and nerve supply. All these things are important.”

Rugby player Kaipo Olsen-Baker ruptured her ACL in the first match of the 2020 season. She made her debut for New Zealand last year.CREDIT:GETTY
While more severe ACL ruptures are likely to require surgery, a study of 80 athletes found 90 per cent had evidence of the ligament healing after three months of bracing. About half achieve excellent anatomical healing.
The study, written and researched in conjunction with the University of Melbourne, was peer-reviewed in the British Journal of Sports Medicine this month and the response has been favourable.

Dr Stephanie Filbay, senior research associate in the Department of Physiotherapy at the university, says some surgeons are interested in taking part in a randomised clinical trial. “If the benefits of this treatment are supported by a clinical trial, this could result in a paradigm shift, whereby people aim to heal a ruptured ACL rather than reconstruct it with surgery,” Dr Filbay said.
The ACL – a three-centre ligament that runs through the knee linking the thigh and shin bones – is the most feared acronym in sport, particularly skiing, soccer, netball and Australian rules, which have the highest incidences of ACL ruptures.

Nevertheless, the unnerving “pop” when a leg is contorted in a way it should not, is common in many codes at all levels.
When ACLs rupture, it’s usually a 12-month recovery. Surgery is expensive, costing between $15,000-20,000. ACL surgery in children is challenging and the outcomes are not as reliable as adults. About 30 per cent of patients under 20 who have ACL reconstructive surgery suffer another rupture.

As a former team doctor for the Swans, the Melbourne Storm, Duntroon military college and even Cirque du Soleil, Tom has seen many ACL ruptures but none worse than those suffered by retired Swans 2012 premiership winner Alex Johnson, who had five reconstructions on one knee and two on the other during his career.
“Your heart sinks for the athlete because he or she knows what’s ahead,” he says. More often than not, surgery and 12 months of physiotherapy rehabilitation. “Every month before 12 months you come back earlier increases the risk of re-rupture. Some come back within nine months, some unfortunately never.”
The genesis of the Crosses’ bracing protocol happened by chance, as many innovations do.
In 2014, Tom was at the Stadium Clinic at Moore Park, consulting 19-year-old Emma Rodger, who had ruptured her ACL playing netball. She was ashen-faced and crying, knowing two of her teammates had undergone ACL surgery on their knees, only for both procedures to fail.
“Is there another way?” she asked.

Merv, who was two years into retirement, was in the clinic doing rehab after – ironically – having his knees replaced. He heard the crying and pulled back the curtains.
“There is another way,” he said. “In the 1970s, we’d put plaster on patients that didn’t want surgery or who weren’t eligible. Some got better, others didn’t. If it doesn’t work, you haven’t burnt any bridges. You’ve just lost a bit of time. You can always have surgery.”
“I’m in,” she said.
Emma’s knee completely healed, and she was back playing sport unrestricted within a year. Since then, 373 patients have opted for the Cross Bracing Protocol with 90 per cent of ACLs healing.
Patient No.5 was Merv’s grandson Dr Matthew Dowsett, who had torn his ACL after being hit by a hip-drop tackle while playing rugby union for Sydney University in 2018. A 21-year-old medical student at the time, Matthew later became the second author of the research after making a full recovery.

Three generations of doctors, all former athletes, sharing a love of sport, a love of athletes, now on a mission to help them.
Tom, the senior author of the research, and his co-researchers have developed a classification for acute ACL injuries, believing indicators on an MRI scan can predict the success of bracing. “We still very much need the expertise of surgeons for those patients with profoundly injured ACLs that are unlikely to heal adequately or who have suffered other significant injuries to their knee that require immediate expert surgery,” Tom says.
https://www.bigfooty.com/forum/javascript:void(0);

Another key to ACL healing is timing. Ideally, knees are braced within four to seven days after the injury. The magic happens in the first month with the reattachment of the ligament ends likened to the movie Avatar, when members of the Na’vi tribe connect their tails with a direhorse.
“If you get in early, and bend the knee at 90 degrees, that’s where the ACL is shortest,” Merv says. “Therefore, those two ruptured ends come together. Just like putting broken bones back in position. That gives you a chance to heal. The clock is ticking. If you don’t do it early enough, you will have two capped or closed-over stumps incapable of healing.”

Patient 42 was Gabriella Taylor – the teenage daughter of Olympian and athletics great Melinda Gainsford-Taylor – who ruptured her ACL in 2020 while playing netball.
Gainsford-Taylor had heard about the Cross Bracing Protocol on the grapevine. She was reticent about her still growing 15-year-old daughter having surgery, and not thrilled about donating one of her own overworked hamstrings as a possible graft.

Gabriella Taylor ruptured her ACL playing netball.
They met Tom, who took two hours to explain their options, including the science of the new pioneering treatment.
“It’s the best thing we could ever have done,” Gainsford-Taylor says. “We knew the risks going into it. If it didn’t work, it was going to set her back 12 weeks but if you can heal an ACL without surgery, for someone that young, then I think you should.”

Gabriella bent the knee, healed her ACL, abandoned netball and focused on her athletics career as a sprinter. She recently made a national team.
Patient 64 was women’s rugby union forward Kaipo Olsen-Baker, who ruptured her ACL in the first match of the 2020 season while playing club rugby for Palmerston North in New Zealand.

​

“Two girls tackled me. One went high, another went low, and it was the worst pain I’d ever felt,” she says. “Dr Ra Durie suggested I call Tom Cross. I was back playing within eight months.”
Olsen-Baker made her debut for New Zealand last year. “I don’t even notice the knee now,” she says. “I don’t feel it.”

The study has received backlash from some quarters. The Washington Post this week quoted Timothy Hewett, a professor of orthopaedic surgery at the Marshall University Joan C. Edwards School of Medicine, who said it “does not seem plausible” that ACLs heal themselves. “The term ‘healing’ should not be used by the authors in this context,” he said.
Hundreds of successful recoveries suggest otherwise. “I can understand the scepticism from our colleagues,” Tom says. “That the healing ACL is just scar tissue. Our follow-up MRI and functional outcomes for patients suggest otherwise. What has motivated me the most pursuing this research is the young children who suffer this injury and those young athletes that cannot afford or have access to surgery. They now have another way; in many cases, we believe, a better way.”
The greatest challenge is convincing elite teams to take the same leap of faith. In the past four years, Tom has consulted numerous professional athletes whose ACL ruptures were perfect candidates for bracing instead of surgery.
“Two professional athletes wanted to do it but were talked out of it by their partner or player manager,” Tom says. “I truly understand it. The elite athlete wants to get operated on and get back as soon as possible. I would’ve been the same when I was head doctor at the Swans. It’s not just the athlete who makes the decision. The entire medical team, the coaches and the player manager all have their say. Professional codes simply need more data and longer follow-up before being convinced.”
Perhaps in a few years, when the long-term benefits of bracing are apparent, the club doctors at the country’s biggest clubs may adopt the protocol.

If Merv Cross can seek out and accept change, surely others can.

​

“It’s a huge paradigm shift for someone who’s devoted his life to pioneering ACL reconstructive surgery and doing it for 35 years to then say there’s another way and to not shut it down,” Tom says of his father. “But the real pioneers are the extraordinary young men and women who were prepared to take a risk on unpublished research.”
For more information: www.healacl.com.

As an ACL warrior this is so cool. But our absolutely fkd medical system makes it virtually impossible unless you're already an elite athlete, and even then they may just opt to hedge their bets time wise and get the reco.

Timeline for normal people.

Injury ---> see GP ---> wait 1-4 weeks for MRI ---> wait 2-6 weeks for initial specialist consult ---> wait 1-3 months for follow up with a surgeon ---> wait 3-12 months for surgery.

If you're smart the first thing you do is see your physio, but that just means you're ready for surgery by the time it rolls around rather than being told you need to get stronger first.

The orthopaedic specialist and surgeons are the only ones who can make the call for bracing and we see them way too far down the line.

 

[Roo202]

Great question.

[goes rustling through the bottom of my spice drawer, where the gels are located]

So I've got 2 SIS ones left, and lots of gross "winners" gels.

I should probably buy another 5 SIS ones, so there's enough for 1 before the race, and one for every 30 minutes afterwards.

Does that sound about right?

Good luck for Sunday mate, sure you'll smash it!! Definitely another no from me for the hydration vest, don't need the weight or it keeping you warm on your back.

Not sure where you ended up with securing your gels, I've run a couple of marathons where I used safety pins to attach them to my shorts, that was with the Gu gels though, which are a bit smaller, my last marathon I got a Flipbelt knock off from Rebel which worked well.

Good luck, run well!!!

 

[Ether]

If anyone sees a bloke jogging from the Gold Coast to Sydney in a North cap, ask him how he went on Sunday.

 

[Makeshift Park]

If anyone sees a bloke jogging from the Gold Coast to Sydney in a North cap, ask him how he went on Sunday.

So it's taken me a bit of time to digest the experience.

Its a bit embarrassing, but there was quite a lot to work through, so I apologise for the indulgent response.

Spoiler: Here it is.

I'd arrived in the Gold Coast the afternoon before. This was my first rookie mistake, as I had to hurry to collect my entry gear before unsuccessfully attempting an early night.

After not such a good night's sleep in a nondescript Broadbeach tower, race day started early, about 3.15am.

Arriving at the race precinct about 5am, the weather conditions were perfect: the air was crisp, a slight breeze, no rain forecast.

The precinct had been well organised along the Southport waterfront. I was impressed by the number of friendly and helpful seniors who had given up a good night's sleep to volunteer at the bag drops and information stalls.

Which brings me to the race itself.

People always warn you that the real marathon doesn't begin until the the 30km mark. The bellowing voice of Robert de Castella was ringing in my ears, his warning that "the marathon demands respect" was a commandment my nervy brain kept circling back to. I was determined not to overdo it early.

Minutes before the race was scheduled to start, I jostled through the hordes of fellow runners, trying to move my way up to the 3 hour pacer. Ultimately, I was unsuccessful. I acquiesced about 10 metres behind the blue balloon held by the 3.10 pacer. To leave that so late was another rookie mistake. Duly noted.

Nevermind, I told myself, I would make up the distance in the race itself.

As I've alluded to in previous posts, I'd never run a mara before and I was unsure what to expect in terms of my own performance. My training regime was a straight-out-the-box Garmin advanced mara plan that theoretically would get me somewhere around the 3 hr mark. I was ambitious but not able to identify a goal with any confidence. So I aimed high: 3 hours was the target. Why not.

But... spoiler alert: that wasn't what happened.

To get the worst part out of the way first - the section from 2km-7km was like descending into quicksand.

Plodding along, I thought I had been hit with a stomach bug. My gut was clenched, I was sweating horrifically, the world was spinning, it was a sensory overload. In the days since, I've put on my big boy pants and recognised it was probably the psychosomatic effects of a panic attack.

Over that 20 minute period I was double-cupping water as the refreshment stations, and my heart sank as a thousand of so people stampeded past. "After all that work, why is my body sabotaging this?"

On our race bibs was our names printed in big text, and complete strangers would shout out encouraging words to me by name. But in my poorly state, it was confronting and having the opposite effect they would have intended.

My friends, that 20 minutes was sheer hell!

I eventually dropped back to people running my easy jog pace - about 4.50 splits. I was cursing myself for ballsing it up. What a waste!

But every now and then I would pass an elite-looking runner, struck by a hammie, honourably trying to hobble themselves onwards. I figured if they were going to keep trying, well I didn't really have any excuse to throw the towel in.

So once I accepted that I wasn't going to get close to 3 hours, I just convinced myself that all I could do was complete the mara enjoyably.

So that's what I did. I was so embarrassed with myself and the foibles of my constitution, but the official photos show that by the halfway point was holding my head high, smiling, and exchanging words of encouragement with those around me. Interactions with spectators started feeling inspiring and the community was great.

A particular shout out to the bloke who gave me a "go the roos" - he'll never know how much I needed the burst of positivity at that point.

So, in the end, I crossed the finish line at 3.25.

I imagine my experience of finding the 5km mark harder than it was getting past the 35km mark is quite unusual.

It was so frustrating that I still had unused energy in the tank. I'd clearly failed to find a sweet spot where I pushed myself hard enough. But I had found the motivation to persevere through some inner turmoil and there was a lot to learn. Among them:

#1: Arrive at the race city two nights before so I sleep well
#2: Familiarise myself with the first and last 5km of the course to prevent the overwhelming sensation of launching off into the unknown
#3: Get to the starting line early
#4: Start with the 3.10 pacer next time.
#5: Familiarise myself with race conditions by doing more races, so the sensation of running in a crowd doesn't feel like a stampede and the real world brouhaha isn't so intense.

(I live in a semi-rural area, and almost always run alone wearing noise-cancelling headphones, and I had no idea how stupidly alien it was going to feel being in an event)

Nevertheless, it was a really worthwhile thing for me to do and I'm really glad I did it. In fact, the first thing I did after finishing the race was book myself into the Melbourne mara in October. I'm hoping that in 3 months time my mara PB reflects something a little closer to what I thought it would be a week ago.

Thanks for all the encouragement and guidance. Go the Roos.

.

 

[Jimmy's Hot Dogs]

Sounds wanky but the marathon teaches you a lot about yourself.

And the GC marathon has been the best school.

 

[ferball]

So it's taken me a bit of time to digest the experience.

Its a bit embarrassing, but there was quite a lot to work through, so I apologise for the indulgent response.

Spoiler: Here it is.

I'd arrived in the Gold Coast the afternoon before. This was my first rookie mistake, as I had to hurry to collect my entry gear before unsuccessfully attempting an early night.

After not such a good night's sleep in a nondescript Broadbeach tower, race day started early, about 3.15am.

Arriving at the race precinct about 5am, the weather conditions were perfect: the air was crisp, a slight breeze, no rain forecast.

The precinct had been well organised along the Southport waterfront. I was impressed by the number of friendly and helpful seniors who had given up a good night's sleep to volunteer at the bag drops and information stalls.

Which brings me to the race itself.

People always warn you that the real marathon doesn't begin until the the 30km mark. The bellowing voice of Robert de Castella was ringing in my ears, his warning that "the marathon demands respect" was a commandment my nervy brain kept circling back to. I was determined not to overdo it early.

Minutes before the race was scheduled to start, I jostled through the hordes of fellow runners, trying to move my way up to the 3 hour pacer. Ultimately, I was unsuccessful. I acquiesced about 10 metres behind the blue balloon held by the 3.10 pacer. To leave that so late was another rookie mistake. Duly noted.

Nevermind, I told myself, I would make up the distance in the race itself.

As I've alluded to in previous posts, I'd never run a mara before and I was unsure what to expect in terms of my own performance. My training regime was a straight-out-the-box Garmin advanced mara plan that theoretically would get me somewhere around the 3 hr mark. I was ambitious but not able to identify a goal with any confidence. So I aimed high: 3 hours was the target. Why not.

But... spoiler alert: that wasn't what happened.

To get the worst part out of the way first - the section from 2km-7km was like descending into quicksand.

Plodding along, I thought I had been hit with a stomach bug. My gut was clenched, I was sweating horrifically, the world was spinning, it was a sensory overload. In the days since, I've put on my big boy pants and recognised it was probably the psychosomatic effects of a panic attack.

Over that 20 minute period I was double-cupping water as the refreshment stations, and my heart sank as a thousand of so people stampeded past. "After all that work, why is my body sabotaging this?"

On our race bibs was our names printed in big text, and complete strangers would shout out encouraging words to me by name. But in my poorly state, it was confronting and having the opposite effect they would have intended.

My friends, that 20 minutes was sheer hell!

I eventually dropped back to people running my easy jog pace - about 4.50 splits. I was cursing myself for ballsing it up. What a waste!

But every now and then I would pass an elite-looking runner, struck by a hammie, honourably trying to hobble themselves onwards. I figured if they were going to keep trying, well I didn't really have any excuse to throw the towel in.

So once I accepted that I wasn't going to get close to 3 hours, I just convinced myself that all I could do was complete the mara enjoyably.

So that's what I did. I was so embarrassed with myself and the foibles of my constitution, but the official photos show that by the halfway point was holding my head high, smiling, and exchanging words of encouragement with those around me. Interactions with spectators started feeling inspiring and the community was great.

A particular shout out to the bloke who gave me a "go the roos" - he'll never know how much I needed the burst of positivity at that point.

So, in the end, I crossed the finish line at 3.25.

I imagine my experience of finding the 5km mark harder than it was getting past the 35km mark is quite unusual.

It was so frustrating that I still had unused energy in the tank. I'd clearly failed to find a sweet spot where I pushed myself hard enough. But I had found the motivation to persevere through some inner turmoil and there was a lot to learn. Among them:

#1: Arrive at the race city two nights before so I sleep well
#2: Familiarise myself with the first and last 5km of the course to prevent the overwhelming sensation of launching off into the unknown
#3: Get to the starting line early
#4: Start with the 3.10 pacer next time.
#5: Familiarise myself with race conditions by doing more races, so the sensation of running in a crowd doesn't feel like a stampede and the real world brouhaha isn't so intense.

(I live in a semi-rural area, and almost always run alone wearing noise-cancelling headphones, and I had no idea how stupidly alien it was going to feel being in an event)

Nevertheless, it was a really worthwhile thing for me to do and I'm really glad I did it. In fact, the first thing I did after finishing the race was book myself into the Melbourne mara in October. I'm hoping that in 3 months time my mara PB reflects something a little closer to what I thought it would be a week ago.

Thanks for all the encouragement and guidance. Go the Roos.

.

Congratulations mate.

You ran a ****ing marathon on the weekend!!!

Forget all your pre conceptions about what you wanted to achieve, you still did an amazing thing finishing it.

 

[Jonnoo]

Well done mate, that is a super effort and really enjoyed your write up. 3:25 for a first mara is a terrific run. So many learnings for you. Keep your chin up, display that medal front and centre, and feel proud you did something most don't.

 

[Ether]

So it's taken me a bit of time to digest the experience.

Its a bit embarrassing, but there was quite a lot to work through, so I apologise for the indulgent response.

Spoiler: Here it is.

I'd arrived in the Gold Coast the afternoon before. This was my first rookie mistake, as I had to hurry to collect my entry gear before unsuccessfully attempting an early night.

After not such a good night's sleep in a nondescript Broadbeach tower, race day started early, about 3.15am.

Arriving at the race precinct about 5am, the weather conditions were perfect: the air was crisp, a slight breeze, no rain forecast.

The precinct had been well organised along the Southport waterfront. I was impressed by the number of friendly and helpful seniors who had given up a good night's sleep to volunteer at the bag drops and information stalls.

Which brings me to the race itself.

People always warn you that the real marathon doesn't begin until the the 30km mark. The bellowing voice of Robert de Castella was ringing in my ears, his warning that "the marathon demands respect" was a commandment my nervy brain kept circling back to. I was determined not to overdo it early.

Minutes before the race was scheduled to start, I jostled through the hordes of fellow runners, trying to move my way up to the 3 hour pacer. Ultimately, I was unsuccessful. I acquiesced about 10 metres behind the blue balloon held by the 3.10 pacer. To leave that so late was another rookie mistake. Duly noted.

Nevermind, I told myself, I would make up the distance in the race itself.

As I've alluded to in previous posts, I'd never run a mara before and I was unsure what to expect in terms of my own performance. My training regime was a straight-out-the-box Garmin advanced mara plan that theoretically would get me somewhere around the 3 hr mark. I was ambitious but not able to identify a goal with any confidence. So I aimed high: 3 hours was the target. Why not.

But... spoiler alert: that wasn't what happened.

To get the worst part out of the way first - the section from 2km-7km was like descending into quicksand.

Plodding along, I thought I had been hit with a stomach bug. My gut was clenched, I was sweating horrifically, the world was spinning, it was a sensory overload. In the days since, I've put on my big boy pants and recognised it was probably the psychosomatic effects of a panic attack.

Over that 20 minute period I was double-cupping water as the refreshment stations, and my heart sank as a thousand of so people stampeded past. "After all that work, why is my body sabotaging this?"

On our race bibs was our names printed in big text, and complete strangers would shout out encouraging words to me by name. But in my poorly state, it was confronting and having the opposite effect they would have intended.

My friends, that 20 minutes was sheer hell!

I eventually dropped back to people running my easy jog pace - about 4.50 splits. I was cursing myself for ballsing it up. What a waste!

But every now and then I would pass an elite-looking runner, struck by a hammie, honourably trying to hobble themselves onwards. I figured if they were going to keep trying, well I didn't really have any excuse to throw the towel in.

So once I accepted that I wasn't going to get close to 3 hours, I just convinced myself that all I could do was complete the mara enjoyably.

So that's what I did. I was so embarrassed with myself and the foibles of my constitution, but the official photos show that by the halfway point was holding my head high, smiling, and exchanging words of encouragement with those around me. Interactions with spectators started feeling inspiring and the community was great.

A particular shout out to the bloke who gave me a "go the roos" - he'll never know how much I needed the burst of positivity at that point.

So, in the end, I crossed the finish line at 3.25.

I imagine my experience of finding the 5km mark harder than it was getting past the 35km mark is quite unusual.

It was so frustrating that I still had unused energy in the tank. I'd clearly failed to find a sweet spot where I pushed myself hard enough. But I had found the motivation to persevere through some inner turmoil and there was a lot to learn. Among them:

#1: Arrive at the race city two nights before so I sleep well
#2: Familiarise myself with the first and last 5km of the course to prevent the overwhelming sensation of launching off into the unknown
#3: Get to the starting line early
#4: Start with the 3.10 pacer next time.
#5: Familiarise myself with race conditions by doing more races, so the sensation of running in a crowd doesn't feel like a stampede and the real world brouhaha isn't so intense.

(I live in a semi-rural area, and almost always run alone wearing noise-cancelling headphones, and I had no idea how stupidly alien it was going to feel being in an event)

Nevertheless, it was a really worthwhile thing for me to do and I'm really glad I did it. In fact, the first thing I did after finishing the race was book myself into the Melbourne mara in October. I'm hoping that in 3 months time my mara PB reflects something a little closer to what I thought it would be a week ago.

Thanks for all the encouragement and guidance. Go the Roos.

.

Haha. Good effort. It is a big achievement and you'll probably appreciate the 3 hour more when you get there.

Some people's maras may go like clockwork. Mine haven't. My first one was one of the little Sri Chinmoy maras starting in Newport. I was not nearly as well prepared as you were for this one. It was a four lap course. I was actually leading the race at the end of the first lap, second after the second and .. um .. a long way further back by the end. Pretty similar time to yours. In my first Melbourne I got to the start line about a minute before the gun so was waaaay back in the field - thousands of entrants - and was jumping over and running along the benches in Fed Square to get past people. Not ideal. Third (and last) one was also Melbourne. I wasn't quite as late but the 3 hour marker was nowhere in sight at the start. I told myself I wasn't allowed to catch the marker until after half way and held myself to it. Result.

So I thoroughly endorse your #3, think for #5 it might be good to do an event with heaps of entrants that isn't as taxing or where you aren't worried about how well you go. (City to Surf?) Re #1, I've read that you should accept that you won't sleep too well the night before a big race so make sure you get a good sleep the night before that and don't worry too much about race eve.

 

[Ether]

So it's taken me a bit of time to digest the experience.

Its a bit embarrassing, but there was quite a lot to work through, so I apologise for the indulgent response.

Spoiler: Here it is.

I'd arrived in the Gold Coast the afternoon before. This was my first rookie mistake, as I had to hurry to collect my entry gear before unsuccessfully attempting an early night.

After not such a good night's sleep in a nondescript Broadbeach tower, race day started early, about 3.15am.

Arriving at the race precinct about 5am, the weather conditions were perfect: the air was crisp, a slight breeze, no rain forecast.

The precinct had been well organised along the Southport waterfront. I was impressed by the number of friendly and helpful seniors who had given up a good night's sleep to volunteer at the bag drops and information stalls.

Which brings me to the race itself.

People always warn you that the real marathon doesn't begin until the the 30km mark. The bellowing voice of Robert de Castella was ringing in my ears, his warning that "the marathon demands respect" was a commandment my nervy brain kept circling back to. I was determined not to overdo it early.

Minutes before the race was scheduled to start, I jostled through the hordes of fellow runners, trying to move my way up to the 3 hour pacer. Ultimately, I was unsuccessful. I acquiesced about 10 metres behind the blue balloon held by the 3.10 pacer. To leave that so late was another rookie mistake. Duly noted.

Nevermind, I told myself, I would make up the distance in the race itself.

As I've alluded to in previous posts, I'd never run a mara before and I was unsure what to expect in terms of my own performance. My training regime was a straight-out-the-box Garmin advanced mara plan that theoretically would get me somewhere around the 3 hr mark. I was ambitious but not able to identify a goal with any confidence. So I aimed high: 3 hours was the target. Why not.

But... spoiler alert: that wasn't what happened.

To get the worst part out of the way first - the section from 2km-7km was like descending into quicksand.

Plodding along, I thought I had been hit with a stomach bug. My gut was clenched, I was sweating horrifically, the world was spinning, it was a sensory overload. In the days since, I've put on my big boy pants and recognised it was probably the psychosomatic effects of a panic attack.

Over that 20 minute period I was double-cupping water as the refreshment stations, and my heart sank as a thousand of so people stampeded past. "After all that work, why is my body sabotaging this?"

On our race bibs was our names printed in big text, and complete strangers would shout out encouraging words to me by name. But in my poorly state, it was confronting and having the opposite effect they would have intended.

My friends, that 20 minutes was sheer hell!

I eventually dropped back to people running my easy jog pace - about 4.50 splits. I was cursing myself for ballsing it up. What a waste!

But every now and then I would pass an elite-looking runner, struck by a hammie, honourably trying to hobble themselves onwards. I figured if they were going to keep trying, well I didn't really have any excuse to throw the towel in.

So once I accepted that I wasn't going to get close to 3 hours, I just convinced myself that all I could do was complete the mara enjoyably.

So that's what I did. I was so embarrassed with myself and the foibles of my constitution, but the official photos show that by the halfway point was holding my head high, smiling, and exchanging words of encouragement with those around me. Interactions with spectators started feeling inspiring and the community was great.

A particular shout out to the bloke who gave me a "go the roos" - he'll never know how much I needed the burst of positivity at that point.

So, in the end, I crossed the finish line at 3.25.

I imagine my experience of finding the 5km mark harder than it was getting past the 35km mark is quite unusual.

It was so frustrating that I still had unused energy in the tank. I'd clearly failed to find a sweet spot where I pushed myself hard enough. But I had found the motivation to persevere through some inner turmoil and there was a lot to learn. Among them:

#1: Arrive at the race city two nights before so I sleep well
#2: Familiarise myself with the first and last 5km of the course to prevent the overwhelming sensation of launching off into the unknown
#3: Get to the starting line early
#4: Start with the 3.10 pacer next time.
#5: Familiarise myself with race conditions by doing more races, so the sensation of running in a crowd doesn't feel like a stampede and the real world brouhaha isn't so intense.

(I live in a semi-rural area, and almost always run alone wearing noise-cancelling headphones, and I had no idea how stupidly alien it was going to feel being in an event)

Nevertheless, it was a really worthwhile thing for me to do and I'm really glad I did it. In fact, the first thing I did after finishing the race was book myself into the Melbourne mara in October. I'm hoping that in 3 months time my mara PB reflects something a little closer to what I thought it would be a week ago.

Thanks for all the encouragement and guidance. Go the Roos.

.

Another thought about avoiding panic is to talk to other runners (in your pace group). Find another North hat and talk footy .. or something less depressing. Don't think about your running form, your gels, your water the whole time. Sticking with the (3 hr, not 3:10) pace group will keep you on target. And I would recommend ditching the headphones for your long training runs so you get comfortable with just your own thoughts.

 

[Roo202]

So it's taken me a bit of time to digest the experience.

Its a bit embarrassing, but there was quite a lot to work through, so I apologise for the indulgent response.

Spoiler: Here it is.

I'd arrived in the Gold Coast the afternoon before. This was my first rookie mistake, as I had to hurry to collect my entry gear before unsuccessfully attempting an early night.

After not such a good night's sleep in a nondescript Broadbeach tower, race day started early, about 3.15am.

Arriving at the race precinct about 5am, the weather conditions were perfect: the air was crisp, a slight breeze, no rain forecast.

The precinct had been well organised along the Southport waterfront. I was impressed by the number of friendly and helpful seniors who had given up a good night's sleep to volunteer at the bag drops and information stalls.

Which brings me to the race itself.

People always warn you that the real marathon doesn't begin until the the 30km mark. The bellowing voice of Robert de Castella was ringing in my ears, his warning that "the marathon demands respect" was a commandment my nervy brain kept circling back to. I was determined not to overdo it early.

Minutes before the race was scheduled to start, I jostled through the hordes of fellow runners, trying to move my way up to the 3 hour pacer. Ultimately, I was unsuccessful. I acquiesced about 10 metres behind the blue balloon held by the 3.10 pacer. To leave that so late was another rookie mistake. Duly noted.

Nevermind, I told myself, I would make up the distance in the race itself.

As I've alluded to in previous posts, I'd never run a mara before and I was unsure what to expect in terms of my own performance. My training regime was a straight-out-the-box Garmin advanced mara plan that theoretically would get me somewhere around the 3 hr mark. I was ambitious but not able to identify a goal with any confidence. So I aimed high: 3 hours was the target. Why not.

But... spoiler alert: that wasn't what happened.

To get the worst part out of the way first - the section from 2km-7km was like descending into quicksand.

Plodding along, I thought I had been hit with a stomach bug. My gut was clenched, I was sweating horrifically, the world was spinning, it was a sensory overload. In the days since, I've put on my big boy pants and recognised it was probably the psychosomatic effects of a panic attack.

Over that 20 minute period I was double-cupping water as the refreshment stations, and my heart sank as a thousand of so people stampeded past. "After all that work, why is my body sabotaging this?"

On our race bibs was our names printed in big text, and complete strangers would shout out encouraging words to me by name. But in my poorly state, it was confronting and having the opposite effect they would have intended.

My friends, that 20 minutes was sheer hell!

I eventually dropped back to people running my easy jog pace - about 4.50 splits. I was cursing myself for ballsing it up. What a waste!

But every now and then I would pass an elite-looking runner, struck by a hammie, honourably trying to hobble themselves onwards. I figured if they were going to keep trying, well I didn't really have any excuse to throw the towel in.

So once I accepted that I wasn't going to get close to 3 hours, I just convinced myself that all I could do was complete the mara enjoyably.

So that's what I did. I was so embarrassed with myself and the foibles of my constitution, but the official photos show that by the halfway point was holding my head high, smiling, and exchanging words of encouragement with those around me. Interactions with spectators started feeling inspiring and the community was great.

A particular shout out to the bloke who gave me a "go the roos" - he'll never know how much I needed the burst of positivity at that point.

So, in the end, I crossed the finish line at 3.25.

I imagine my experience of finding the 5km mark harder than it was getting past the 35km mark is quite unusual.

It was so frustrating that I still had unused energy in the tank. I'd clearly failed to find a sweet spot where I pushed myself hard enough. But I had found the motivation to persevere through some inner turmoil and there was a lot to learn. Among them:

#1: Arrive at the race city two nights before so I sleep well
#2: Familiarise myself with the first and last 5km of the course to prevent the overwhelming sensation of launching off into the unknown
#3: Get to the starting line early
#4: Start with the 3.10 pacer next time.
#5: Familiarise myself with race conditions by doing more races, so the sensation of running in a crowd doesn't feel like a stampede and the real world brouhaha isn't so intense.

(I live in a semi-rural area, and almost always run alone wearing noise-cancelling headphones, and I had no idea how stupidly alien it was going to feel being in an event)

Nevertheless, it was a really worthwhile thing for me to do and I'm really glad I did it. In fact, the first thing I did after finishing the race was book myself into the Melbourne mara in October. I'm hoping that in 3 months time my mara PB reflects something a little closer to what I thought it would be a week ago.

Thanks for all the encouragement and guidance. Go the Roos.

.

Fantastic, congratulations, better reading this than watching the footy atm! You should be rapt with that time, a lot of runners spend a lifetime trying to break 3:30 and you've done it first try, it will make the sub 3 all the sweeter when you get there!

 

[Flawed Genius]

Anyone worn these? I can't find the right shoes to help with some foot/ankle/toe issues, and the V6s were outstanding.

Can't find the V6s anywhere. The V7s are reviewed as having less cushioning, which is concerning me.

New Balance Shoes & Apparel | Official New Balance® Site

www.newbalance.com.au

 

[Themanbun]

So it's taken me a bit of time to digest the experience.

Its a bit embarrassing, but there was quite a lot to work through, so I apologise for the indulgent response.

Spoiler: Here it is.

I'd arrived in the Gold Coast the afternoon before. This was my first rookie mistake, as I had to hurry to collect my entry gear before unsuccessfully attempting an early night.

After not such a good night's sleep in a nondescript Broadbeach tower, race day started early, about 3.15am.

Arriving at the race precinct about 5am, the weather conditions were perfect: the air was crisp, a slight breeze, no rain forecast.

The precinct had been well organised along the Southport waterfront. I was impressed by the number of friendly and helpful seniors who had given up a good night's sleep to volunteer at the bag drops and information stalls.

Which brings me to the race itself.

People always warn you that the real marathon doesn't begin until the the 30km mark. The bellowing voice of Robert de Castella was ringing in my ears, his warning that "the marathon demands respect" was a commandment my nervy brain kept circling back to. I was determined not to overdo it early.

Minutes before the race was scheduled to start, I jostled through the hordes of fellow runners, trying to move my way up to the 3 hour pacer. Ultimately, I was unsuccessful. I acquiesced about 10 metres behind the blue balloon held by the 3.10 pacer. To leave that so late was another rookie mistake. Duly noted.

Nevermind, I told myself, I would make up the distance in the race itself.

As I've alluded to in previous posts, I'd never run a mara before and I was unsure what to expect in terms of my own performance. My training regime was a straight-out-the-box Garmin advanced mara plan that theoretically would get me somewhere around the 3 hr mark. I was ambitious but not able to identify a goal with any confidence. So I aimed high: 3 hours was the target. Why not.

But... spoiler alert: that wasn't what happened.

To get the worst part out of the way first - the section from 2km-7km was like descending into quicksand.

Plodding along, I thought I had been hit with a stomach bug. My gut was clenched, I was sweating horrifically, the world was spinning, it was a sensory overload. In the days since, I've put on my big boy pants and recognised it was probably the psychosomatic effects of a panic attack.

Over that 20 minute period I was double-cupping water as the refreshment stations, and my heart sank as a thousand of so people stampeded past. "After all that work, why is my body sabotaging this?"

On our race bibs was our names printed in big text, and complete strangers would shout out encouraging words to me by name. But in my poorly state, it was confronting and having the opposite effect they would have intended.

My friends, that 20 minutes was sheer hell!

I eventually dropped back to people running my easy jog pace - about 4.50 splits. I was cursing myself for ballsing it up. What a waste!

But every now and then I would pass an elite-looking runner, struck by a hammie, honourably trying to hobble themselves onwards. I figured if they were going to keep trying, well I didn't really have any excuse to throw the towel in.

So once I accepted that I wasn't going to get close to 3 hours, I just convinced myself that all I could do was complete the mara enjoyably.

So that's what I did. I was so embarrassed with myself and the foibles of my constitution, but the official photos show that by the halfway point was holding my head high, smiling, and exchanging words of encouragement with those around me. Interactions with spectators started feeling inspiring and the community was great.

A particular shout out to the bloke who gave me a "go the roos" - he'll never know how much I needed the burst of positivity at that point.

So, in the end, I crossed the finish line at 3.25.

I imagine my experience of finding the 5km mark harder than it was getting past the 35km mark is quite unusual.

It was so frustrating that I still had unused energy in the tank. I'd clearly failed to find a sweet spot where I pushed myself hard enough. But I had found the motivation to persevere through some inner turmoil and there was a lot to learn. Among them:

#1: Arrive at the race city two nights before so I sleep well
#2: Familiarise myself with the first and last 5km of the course to prevent the overwhelming sensation of launching off into the unknown
#3: Get to the starting line early
#4: Start with the 3.10 pacer next time.
#5: Familiarise myself with race conditions by doing more races, so the sensation of running in a crowd doesn't feel like a stampede and the real world brouhaha isn't so intense.

(I live in a semi-rural area, and almost always run alone wearing noise-cancelling headphones, and I had no idea how stupidly alien it was going to feel being in an event)

Nevertheless, it was a really worthwhile thing for me to do and I'm really glad I did it. In fact, the first thing I did after finishing the race was book myself into the Melbourne mara in October. I'm hoping that in 3 months time my mara PB reflects something a little closer to what I thought it would be a week ago.

Thanks for all the encouragement and guidance. Go the Roos.

.

Nah that's awesome mate. Learning experience and you smashed it.

 

[Ligma]

Hey guys i need a bit of help in regards to off season / my 5k

I’m not sure if I should do the 5k training plan or the off season running plan??

One of my RFIs was my running, so I’m trying to figure out which one I should do.

The off season is based on MAS which is what we did throughout pre season but the Nike is pace based omg

 

[ferball]

Hey guys i need a bit of help in regards to off season / my 5k

I’m not sure if I should do the 5k training plan or the off season running plan??

One of my RFIs was my running, so I’m trying to figure out which one I should do.

The off season is based on MAS which is what we did throughout pre season but the Nike is pace based omg

Which one is gonna make you a better runner?

 

[ferball]

A better footy runner ... anyone can train to run a 5k but footy needs repeat efforts at high intensity and the ability to run while you're fatigued from wrestling and competing for the ball so its not just your legs that are tired or full of lactic acid. The sort of training an Olympic 5K runner does might help cos they put in repeat efforts at high intensity all race.

Your training needs to help you pay off what used to be (and could still be) called "O2 debt" quickly.

Running lots of laps of big ovals/400ms with one lap jogging recovery will definitely do this. There may be better ways now but I used to run 15 laps/400s (3x5 sets) with a one lap jog in between and a two lap jog in between sets. What they probably call 400m interval training. You run each lap in about a minute (maybe slower depending on your natural pace) which is perfect for fatiguing your anaerobic energy production systems.

I also found jogging not walking when you finish was important mentally.

Even if you're cooked you'll get to the next contest quicker if you instinctively jog rather than walk and you can help that by training your brain so its used to the idea of running instead of walking as you recover.

Your body will get used to this stuff anyway but training your brain is important.

Think about LDU and Judas - when they were young and unfit LDU would still jog after the play even when he was cooked. Judas walks. He's given up on running whereas LDU is still running, just not as well because he is fatigued. When you''re tired and under pressure you revert to what you've trained which is why everything from emergency services responses to military drills to musicians, martial artists etc etc all train and practice.

Judas reverts to walking in those situations, LDU keeps running.

But you're also shifting more blood thru your body when you're running than walking (HR is slightly higher) so you're paying off O2 debt and removing LA faster.

Even when you stop playing this stuff will benefit you.

I used to tree plant and pick fruit for a living and it made a difference to what I could earn in a day cos I'd go harder for longer. Back then earning a couple of hundred bucks a day was good money and being fit from all that training certainly helped me do that. It made a huge difference fighting fires too, especially a few years ago when we were doing 18 hour days, day after day for weeks on end as the entire SE coast burned.

 

[Ligma]

A better footy runner ... anyone can train to run a 5k but footy needs repeat efforts at high intensity and the ability to run while you're fatigued from wrestling and competing for the ball so its not just your legs that are tired or full of lactic acid. The sort of training an Olympic 5K runner does might help cos they put in repeat efforts at high intensity all race.

Your training needs to help you pay off what used to be (and could still be) called "O2 debt" quickly.

Running lots of laps of big ovals/400ms with one lap jogging recovery will definitely do this. There may be better ways now but I used to run 15 laps/400s (3x5 sets) with a one lap jog in between and a two lap jog in between sets. What they probably call 400m interval training. You run each lap in about a minute (maybe slower depending on your natural pace) which is perfect for fatiguing your anaerobic energy production systems.

I also found jogging not walking when you finish was important mentally.

Even if you're cooked you'll get to the next contest quicker if you instinctively jog rather than walk and you can help that by training your brain so its used to the idea of running instead of walking as you recover.

Your body will get used to this stuff anyway but training your brain is important.

Think about LDU and Judas - when they were young and unfit LDU would still jog after the play even when he was cooked. Judas walks. He's given up on running whereas LDU is still running, just not as well because he is fatigued. When you''re tired and under pressure you revert to what you've trained which is why everything from emergency services responses to military drills to musicians, martial artists etc etc all train and practice.

Judas reverts to walking in those situations, LDU keeps running.

But you're also shifting more blood thru your body when you're running than walking (HR is slightly higher) so you're paying off O2 debt and removing LA faster.

Even when you stop playing this stuff will benefit you.

I used to tree plant and pick fruit for a living and it made a difference to what I could earn in a day cos I'd go harder for longer. Back then earning a couple of hundred bucks a day was good money and being fit from all that training certainly helped me do that. It made a huge difference fighting fires too, especially a few years ago when we were doing 18 hour days, day after day for weeks on end as the entire SE coast burned.

Yes yes yes

But they are both interval based programs - I am leaning towards the off season plan that the club gave us.

 

[ferball]

Yes yes yes

But they are both interval based programs - I am leaning towards the off season plan that the club gave us.

They probably have a plan tailored to that more footy specific outcome so its probably worth following.