When Diane asked me if I’d write a race report for Tarawera at the Board Meeting in January, I told her I wasn’t sure if I would be able to toe the line because a surprise ankle injury wasn’t making much progress and I wasn’t able to ramp up my miles, but that I’d write something no matter what, since there would likely be learnings from a DNS as well.
Two weeks later, three weeks before the race, I decided to not race. Then, in an unexpected twist, my ankle started to feel better and with a lot of hiking and some running, I decided to give myself a chance and start the race while being OK to finish early to not compromise long term health. I ended up finishing my first 100K (or 110K!) surrounded by the most beautiful lakes and forest and supporting community at the Tarawera 102!
Pre-race injury
Maybe from too much playing on the uneven ice skating rink that was the Alder Creek Emigrant trail at the end of December, I started feeling the inside of my ankle (Posterior Tibialis or, as he’d be later known Mr Tib!). The first time was a short run from Downtown to Sierra Bakehouse (through OG) and I didn’t give it much thought, something just felt a bit off. The next day, I was running 20 miles in Reno. The flowy trails felt amazing but eventually I had to acknowledge that the inside of my ankle was feeling off (and getting worse) so I cut it short and went back to the car at mile 17. Still a long way, but it wasn’t really painful and I thought a few days off running would let things calm down. Unfortunately, the lingering tension inside my ankle wasn’t going away and running more than 4-5 miles felt like it was aggravating it. Biking felt great, and I enjoyed some quality time with Bikey on Zwift; I diligently did my PT exercises.
The days kept going by. I started thinking about different scenarios, visualizing how I would react to them. I had started working with the incredible Lucie Hanes @insideoutathletes at the beginning of December, and she was instrumental in helping me navigate this time. This race was part of a two month trip to New Zealand and Australia (thanks to a generous sabbatical at work!) and my main fear was to compromise enjoying the trip. With that in mind, I prioritized health and three weeks before the race, I decided to not toe the line. It was tough but I knew my priorities and was comfortable with the decision.
Then, in an unexpected twist, the ankle started feeling much better. I did my first trail run, sending Ryan off on the Kepler Track, a training run we had planned (and still a bucket list run for me) and enjoyed the soft forest grounds. I wasn’t sore the next day so I enjoyed a short hike with some elevation and another run (which turned out to be on a somewhat technical trail) the following day, and a really steep hike (which I wouldn’t have dared attempt three days prior) the day after. I kept on alternating runs and hikes and started joking internally that my goal was to be healthy enough to wish I was toeing the line on race day. Then my coach opened the door: changing distance to the 50K or maaaaaybe the 100K could still be possible. I’ve worked with @mountainroche for over 4.5 years and he’s never pushed me to any race, wanting the excitement to come solely from me. That made the nudge even more powerful and exciting for me. I also talked through it with Lucie and that really helped me be honest with how I felt. I realized my excitement was really on the 100K and I’d rather DNF than finish the 50K. I also felt confident in my ability to listen to my body (and to Mr. Tib) to stop before doing damage that would compromise the rest of the trip. I was able to do 12 miles, then 14 then 16 miles a week before the race (still without any back to back days) then backed off a little the days leading to the race.
Of course, the days leading to the race, the mind came challenging the decisions. Looking at my running training wasn’t exactly a source of confidence with very little running, no speed work, little elevation and no back to back days. Lucie reminded me of the years of running I had under my belt and the strong end of 2013 with a win at the Golden Gate Classic 50 Miler in mid-November. I could also look at the running that had felt really good when the injury first appeared and then the biking and numerous hiking miles (and feet of vert!).
I broke down the race and identified key decision points and how I would approach the sensations in my body and my ankle to respect my body while giving it a chance to show what it was capable of (maybe the deepest respect I could have for it).
Every Mile is a Bonus
This was my mantra going into the race and I truly believed it (maybe the most important?). I had reflected on it the previous day as I was preparing my flat runner, a habit that grounds me before races. I toed the line curious about how the day would turn out, ready to call it quits early but also decided on working hard if health allowed. And I knew it would be a hard day if the ankle wasn’t flaring up given the heat and limited training!
Starting line of the Tarawera 102 by UTMB with Ryan
First mile ticked on my watch… one bonus point!! I reached 18 miles (longer than anything I had done this year) and felt good, enjoying the stunning surrounding forest. I got a quick kiss from Ryan in an out and back section. The course started a long out and back at mile 20 before heading to the finish. I had identified this as a key decision point for me, and the decision came in easy, I was keeping on going, and that gave me a little energy boost.
Temperatures were rising and, as you can imagine, I wasn’t exactly heat trained! I prioritized taking care of myself. Spending a bit of extra time at aid stations to make sure I was fully cooled off thanks to the buckets of cold water and sponges that the volunteers had set up. Also eating and drinking plenty to make sure I had all the energy I needed to carry me through the miles. I discovered vinegar potato chips which got me excited to reach each aid station!!
Miles 26-35 were hard with some steep climbs and descents. It was also a long stretch without aid. I was patient with myself and took the descents very easily. But my legs were still pretty toast after the last descent. And my Achilles started acting up. This has been my Achilles Heel (literally) over the past couple of years and I didn’t exactly want to wake up the old friend. Maybe that was the sign that it was time to stop. That would make for an amazing training run, I could enjoy the rest of the afternoon, support Ryan, not take any risk with health. I arrived at the aid station and the crowd got me to tear up. They had no clue about what was going through my mind, but they were here, with unconditional support. Ice cold water, ice in my bra and sleeves, a mouthful of the magic vinegar potato chips and I felt ready to go again. But a few hundred meters from the aid station, I stopped and looked back. I could just catch a shuttle back. I didn’t exactly want to go back through that grueling section. Another runner asked if I was OK and I told him I was considering dropping. He sounded so incredulous… my first reaction was to find excuses then I thought that the course was doing a small loop that would bring me back 1km from the aid station before the long stretch back, so I could try this loop and decide to come back to the aid station if I felt like I was putting health at risk.
Of course, that section felt great and I continued on my way through the tough climbs and descents. Slogging up the climbs, carefully going through the downs which felt harder and harder. I crossed paths with Ryan and we shared an encouraging kiss. We were both tired and knew we were doing something hard and it was special to share this moment.
Give yourself a chance
I made it back to the Millar Aid Station at mile 48. I knew the hardest was behind me (but that I also still had close to 20 miles to go!). The idea of finishing started to settle in my mind. If Mr. Tib hadn’t showed up yet, it would be unlikely he’d want to be part of the day. The Achilles were mostly fine and I could always walk. I didn’t really want to walk 20 miles, that was still a really long ways. And while my body didn’t want to descend anymore, I was able to maintain a 10-11min/mile shuffle on the flats and jog the mellow climbs. It actually felt easier to keep shuffling than to hike with pupose.
I created a new mantra which was “give yourself a chance”. That seemed like a very fitting theme for the day and the past weeks, but I also used it as I was seeing climbs ahead and gave myself a chance to run them before deciding that I couldn’t.
The hardest were the downs. I usually LOVE downhills, especially the flowy ones like the ones I was on at the end of the race. But my legs were just refusing to open up the stride and let me flow. A weird feeling because it wasn’t associated to any pain, just a fatigue that was keeping me at a slow shuffle or even walk when the grade got steeper. It was a bit frustrating to see people zoom by me after I had passed them because they were walking the flats and ups. I stated patient with myself. I honestly didn’t care about my time or place, I just wanted to finish.
The sunset views over Rotorua were amazing. The glow over the palm trees and native bush was magic. It also showed me how much more descending remained. It reminded me to be patient. I arrived at the Redwood Aid Station as the last light was fading. An old colleague, who happens to now be a colleague of Ryan, is now leaving in NZ and was doing the 50K, was cheering and promised an amazing Aid Station. They had put on the most beautiful light show and energizing music. And it was all flat from there… I’ve got this!
My watch had died a while back around mile 50. I think it had been trying to pair with nearby footpods (I used to have one and never got around to removing the data screen so I think the watch keeps searching for one using unnecessary battery… lesson learned or maybe since I still haven’t removed the screen as I am writing this!!). I had started my phone but didn’t want to keep on stopping to look at it. I knew it would eventually turn into an excuse to pause. Plus, what would it change to know where I was? I just needed to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I would do that until the finish line! In retrospect, that may have been a good thing because the course ended up being longer than expected. It was fully dark and the swarms of tiny flies were attracted by the lights so I ran through the fading daylight and enjoyed the moon light, turning the light only when the bushes were blocking the moon. I’ve only ran at night less than a dozen times but actually love the quieting feeling it brings. The cooler air was also most welcomed!!
Finish line feelzz
As the finish line appeared in the distance, it dawned on me. I had done it! One bonus mile at a time and giving myself a chance, I had ticked the kilometers, one at a time. There were still so many people cheering and I teared up as the biggest smile also appeared on my face and I enjoyed the last few meters to the finish. I didn’t have an urge to sprint to the finish (I usually do and I could have), I just wanted to be present and enjoy.
I went through the medical check (they weigh you to compare to your pre-race weight in case you have over or under hydrated). Nutrition and hydration went amazingly well throughout the entire day, maybe thanks to the lower intensity race (and despite the heat!). I am not sure if they were mixing the hydration as indicated on the packets, but if they did, I was able to consume 350+cal/h including a bit more than 16oz of fluid per hour (ending up at 0.5kg more than pre-race while stopping to pee a couple of times). Even if the hydration mix was a bit more diluted, it was still likely at least 250 or 300 (including some protein and fat). It was my first time trying the Naak products. They are pretty bland but they go down easy. I alternated fueling options to reduce the risk of palate fatigue and was always looking forward to my mouthful of vinegar potato chips (watermelon and orange wedges also felt great in the later part). I also tried the Pure gels and surprised myself looking forward to another pineapple gel, or enjoying a cola one!
Closing thoughts
This is not the race I was imagining when I first signed up several months ago. But do races (or training cycles) ever play out the way we envision them? I know I learned a lot about my ability to listen to my body but also about the power to open the door and be curious without judging. I know that this experience will be a really strong one to build strength and confidence on as I continue this fun running journey and exploration of myself.
Recovery has been going well (the low intensity effort likely helped) and I am excited to open the Australia chapter of this adventure.
A huge shoutout to Ryan, who has been the most patient and supporting partner throughout this time (and over 15 years). I am also lucky to work with @mountainroche who always puts my health and enjoyment first and encourages me to open more and more doors to adventures. @dr.asher.runs was there to check on progress almost daily to bring me back to health. Lucie @insideoutathletes worked with me through the decision process of not racing and then toeing the line, discussing my race plan and mental strategy which kept me going confidently throughout the day. The aid station volunteers and spectators also played a key role in bringing energy (and much needed cooling!) throughout the day. I can’t say thank you loud enough, I will just pay it forward.
Renee Jacobs says
Congratulations! That finish must have been so wonderful !!
Aude Hofleitner says
Yes, it was definitely something that I’ll keep in memory <3