2022 - Blackall Trail 100km
The Blackall 100 was not just a race; it was a moment of reckoning, a lesson in humility, and a testament to the respect the distance demands.
My time was 13:02:56, slower than last year by 75 minutes or 12%! Not that I kept track of such things!
A race is not simply about crossing the finish line; it's about the journey that leads you there. Getting to the start line healthy and at the peak of your training block is the hardest part.
And when you register for a race 6 to 12 months in advance, that journey is fraught with uncertainty and unpredictability: running hitches, injuries, life's curveballs.
My path to this year Blackall 100 was no different. While I was pretty happy with my progress to June, when I ran a half marathon a day for the whole month as part of my base training, after that life did what life does best: it surprised with very little running during the 5 weeks family vacation in Europe, a second hard bout of Covid, and an unwelcome neuroma in my left foot. All my well-laid plans, tossed out the window.
But the real lesson came in how I let these setbacks affect my mindset and my logistical preparation. With my confidence in my readiness for the 100km waning, I let the reins of control slip from my hands. I neglected logistics, nutrition, and hydration plans. It was as if my ego was trying to sabotage my race, to lay all blame on the 'Gods of good running.'
The sabotage succeeded, and the truth revealed itself in the second half of the race
My time was 13:02:56, slower than last year by 75 minutes or 12%! Not that I kept track of such things!
A race is not simply about crossing the finish line; it's about the journey that leads you there. Getting to the start line healthy and at the peak of your training block is the hardest part.
And when you register for a race 6 to 12 months in advance, that journey is fraught with uncertainty and unpredictability: running hitches, injuries, life's curveballs.
My path to this year Blackall 100 was no different. While I was pretty happy with my progress to June, when I ran a half marathon a day for the whole month as part of my base training, after that life did what life does best: it surprised with very little running during the 5 weeks family vacation in Europe, a second hard bout of Covid, and an unwelcome neuroma in my left foot. All my well-laid plans, tossed out the window.
But the real lesson came in how I let these setbacks affect my mindset and my logistical preparation. With my confidence in my readiness for the 100km waning, I let the reins of control slip from my hands. I neglected logistics, nutrition, and hydration plans. It was as if my ego was trying to sabotage my race, to lay all blame on the 'Gods of good running.'
The sabotage succeeded, and the truth revealed itself in the second half of the race
LET'S RUN!
The weather on race day was perfect, the only dry weekend of the month. I certainly prefer the warmth to a downpour any day.
I traveled to the start on race day, for a 6 AM start. I paced myself well in the first 10-15km, conserving my energy for the trail and the forest. By the 30km mark, it was clear that my best wasn't with me that day. My stride was short, overly cautious, and each incline was a battle.
I had all intentions to climb "The Bluff", the biggest climb of the day at 50km, much stronger than I did in 2021, I knew what to expect this time. Somewhat I succeeded, I am not sure I was much faster than 2021 but I certainly felt less "desperate" during the ascent and kept my heart rate under control.
After 'The Bluff,' with 35km to go, my race began to unravel. I ran out of nutrition and water and slowed down significatly.
Lidia and the kids surprised me turning up at checkpoint 5, with their smiles and words of encouragement, almost as if they knew I needed them. I took a few minutes to soak in their love before embarking on the last 18km.
In 2021, I finished in daylight. This year, my pace was slow, and even the smallest inclines reduced me to a walk. I had no energy left in me and no food in my backpack, so the last 7km felt endless. The only distraction was the eerie glow of toad eyes reflecting my head torch.
Crossing the finish line was more of a relief than a celebration, a stark contrast to 2021.
My disappointment was not in my body but in my lack of preparation. In ultra-running, your body may not always be at its peak, but that's no excuse for letting go of the reins of the elements within your control.
That's the beauty of ultra-running - it's a journey of never-ending learning.
The weather on race day was perfect, the only dry weekend of the month. I certainly prefer the warmth to a downpour any day.
I traveled to the start on race day, for a 6 AM start. I paced myself well in the first 10-15km, conserving my energy for the trail and the forest. By the 30km mark, it was clear that my best wasn't with me that day. My stride was short, overly cautious, and each incline was a battle.
I had all intentions to climb "The Bluff", the biggest climb of the day at 50km, much stronger than I did in 2021, I knew what to expect this time. Somewhat I succeeded, I am not sure I was much faster than 2021 but I certainly felt less "desperate" during the ascent and kept my heart rate under control.
After 'The Bluff,' with 35km to go, my race began to unravel. I ran out of nutrition and water and slowed down significatly.
Lidia and the kids surprised me turning up at checkpoint 5, with their smiles and words of encouragement, almost as if they knew I needed them. I took a few minutes to soak in their love before embarking on the last 18km.
In 2021, I finished in daylight. This year, my pace was slow, and even the smallest inclines reduced me to a walk. I had no energy left in me and no food in my backpack, so the last 7km felt endless. The only distraction was the eerie glow of toad eyes reflecting my head torch.
Crossing the finish line was more of a relief than a celebration, a stark contrast to 2021.
My disappointment was not in my body but in my lack of preparation. In ultra-running, your body may not always be at its peak, but that's no excuse for letting go of the reins of the elements within your control.
That's the beauty of ultra-running - it's a journey of never-ending learning.
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