In life, most people gravitate towards doing things they’re good at. I’m no exception. Writing, reading and spelling have always come easily to me, so I work as a writer and editor. Maths, on the other hand, has always challenged me. So much so that I usually wear a thir over my watch when I’m running, because if I can see the elapsed time and distance I’ve gone, I try to do maths and that often leads to me falling over.
Swimming has always been easy for me so I do it happily. Even when I was at my biggest, it was the only exercise I actually enjoyed – but I’d only go to the beach to swim after dark so I didn’t have to deal with the disapproving looks and bitchy comments about my size. Night swimming is still one of my favourite things to do especially when the world gets a bit too noisy.
Swimming has always been easy for me so I do it happily. Even when I was at my biggest, it was the only exercise I actually enjoyed – but I’d only go to the beach to swim after dark so I didn’t have to deal with the disapproving looks and bitchy comments about my size. Night swimming is still one of my favourite things to do especially when the world gets a bit too noisy.
Conversely, running has always been hard. I don’t exactly have the physique for it and I think it’s fair to say I have very little natural ability. When I first agreed to take on the challenge of training for two ultras this year, my confidence had taken a total hiding and I was seriously considering quitting all together so regular run training was never going to be easy for me. If I’m honest, over the past few months for the most part I’ve hated it. (Yes, I know hate is a strong word...) The logical part of my brain has been quietly telling me that the only way I’m going to get better is by running more. Meanwhile the emotional part of my brain has been loudly screaming, ‘You’re a complete idiot for ever thinking you could do this. Everyone thinks you’re a complete joke and you should just give up now.’
For a while there, the shouty part of my brain had its dodgy theories reinforced by the fact that I had an absolutely terrible time doing the 16 km at the Hillary. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a freaking awesome event. I just had a shocker. As well as being in a terrible headspace, it was a stinking hot day and I don’t cope very well in the heat (I’m from Invercargill, for pete’s sake). Long story short, I ended up with mild heatstroke and would probably still be out on Te Henga trying to work out if I could swim home if it wasn’t for Tail-End Charlie Extraordinaire, Kim Allan, who patiently put up with my meandering and muttering to make sure I made it to the finish in one piece. Well, I say ‘one piece’ but anyone that saw me there might disagree – I don’t know, I can’t really remember it.
It’s counterintuitive but while I still struggle with going out in public in my running gear, I’m completely comfortable when I’m in my togs or my wetsuit – so long as I’m within a few metres of the water, obviously. I guess it’s because I’m confident of my swimming ability. I might not be fast but I know I can swim for hours, so all the while that I was miserable running, swim training made me happy. Hell, I even started enjoying pool training, which I’ve avoided for years in favour of the open water.
For a while there, the shouty part of my brain had its dodgy theories reinforced by the fact that I had an absolutely terrible time doing the 16 km at the Hillary. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a freaking awesome event. I just had a shocker. As well as being in a terrible headspace, it was a stinking hot day and I don’t cope very well in the heat (I’m from Invercargill, for pete’s sake). Long story short, I ended up with mild heatstroke and would probably still be out on Te Henga trying to work out if I could swim home if it wasn’t for Tail-End Charlie Extraordinaire, Kim Allan, who patiently put up with my meandering and muttering to make sure I made it to the finish in one piece. Well, I say ‘one piece’ but anyone that saw me there might disagree – I don’t know, I can’t really remember it.
It’s counterintuitive but while I still struggle with going out in public in my running gear, I’m completely comfortable when I’m in my togs or my wetsuit – so long as I’m within a few metres of the water, obviously. I guess it’s because I’m confident of my swimming ability. I might not be fast but I know I can swim for hours, so all the while that I was miserable running, swim training made me happy. Hell, I even started enjoying pool training, which I’ve avoided for years in favour of the open water.
Almost every time I swam, I was clocking up PBs and I was loving it. Never more so than my last ocean swim for the season – the King of the Bays, a 2.8km swim from Milford to Takapuna on Auckland’s North Shore. I’d trained hard, I knew I could do the distance, but the shadow of a couple of brutal DNFs a couple of seasons ago hung around like that weird smell bananas get when they’re over-ripe. It’s fair to say I was bricking it at the start line. The conditions were pretty chunky and it was pouring with rain. I felt like a finish could be marginal for me. But as soon as I got in the water, something in my brain clicked, everything went quiet and I just focused on swimming. Hitting the finish line, I could scarcely believe that I’d finished 21 minutes faster than my goal time. Talk about stoked!
And then, of course, it happened – the inevitable crash down to earth when I realised the swim season was over and it was time to focus on running again. Erk. Suddenly, here I was running five or six days a week and really just grinding it out. For several weeks, I ran around a circuit with about as much joy as one of those polar bears that dementedly goes around in circles in a dodgy zoo. I didn’t feel like I was getting any better at it, I wasn’t having any fun, and I spent a lot of time wondering why the hell I was doing it. I was miserable.
That’s when I realised there’s something else I avoid doing because I’m not very good at it – asking people for help. I’ve always done my best to sort things out for myself, but this was one mess I didn’t know how to fix. Eventually, I messaged Vicki, the editor of Kiwi Trail Runner and said, ‘I’ve been really struggling over the last couple of weeks. I feel like I’ve bitten off more than I can chew and I’m wondering what the hell I’ve done.’
Her reply turned things around for me. ‘This quarter is about head down and training – it’s the grind quarter where it all feels unglamorous, hard, monotonous and unrewarding: it’s all about the build so you don’t get much of the feel-good stuff going on – you’re just grinding away, logging hours and miles. It can be pretty depressing and it’s where a lot of people throw in the towel.’
Bloody hell. I hadn’t expected that. The boredom and the frustration I was feeling were normal. When I eventually let on to James how I was feeling, he tweaked my programme so that there’s more room for going on longer trail missions with friends, as well as making sure there a couple of swims and a deep water running session each week to vary things a bit. The polar bear was free!
Funnily enough, I then started to notice the small gains I was making. A wee reduction in my kilometre time, nailing a hill that used to stop me in my tracks, running a bit more and walking a bit less – all things that I wouldn’t have noticed before because I was so focused on what a bad time I was having.
Then I saw a Facebook post by my friend, Laurie Wilson, about her run at the T42. In it she said, ‘When I started this lark being on my own for so long would have been hard. The voices in my head kept telling me I was too slow, too fat, too old, people were laughing. Blah, blah. Now I've pretty much shut them up. I have peace and quiet and could hear all the beautiful birds, the wind in the trees and the running rivers and waterfalls along the way.’
That right there is what I aspire to. I want to be able to hear the birds, the wind, the rivers and waterfalls. I want to feel the same peace out running as I do when I swim. And as the logical part of my brain reminds me - the only way I’m going to get there is by running more.
Copyright © 2015 Kiwi Trail Runner Magazine. All rights reserved. Reprinted with permission from Kiwi Trail Runner Magazine.
And then, of course, it happened – the inevitable crash down to earth when I realised the swim season was over and it was time to focus on running again. Erk. Suddenly, here I was running five or six days a week and really just grinding it out. For several weeks, I ran around a circuit with about as much joy as one of those polar bears that dementedly goes around in circles in a dodgy zoo. I didn’t feel like I was getting any better at it, I wasn’t having any fun, and I spent a lot of time wondering why the hell I was doing it. I was miserable.
That’s when I realised there’s something else I avoid doing because I’m not very good at it – asking people for help. I’ve always done my best to sort things out for myself, but this was one mess I didn’t know how to fix. Eventually, I messaged Vicki, the editor of Kiwi Trail Runner and said, ‘I’ve been really struggling over the last couple of weeks. I feel like I’ve bitten off more than I can chew and I’m wondering what the hell I’ve done.’
Her reply turned things around for me. ‘This quarter is about head down and training – it’s the grind quarter where it all feels unglamorous, hard, monotonous and unrewarding: it’s all about the build so you don’t get much of the feel-good stuff going on – you’re just grinding away, logging hours and miles. It can be pretty depressing and it’s where a lot of people throw in the towel.’
Bloody hell. I hadn’t expected that. The boredom and the frustration I was feeling were normal. When I eventually let on to James how I was feeling, he tweaked my programme so that there’s more room for going on longer trail missions with friends, as well as making sure there a couple of swims and a deep water running session each week to vary things a bit. The polar bear was free!
Funnily enough, I then started to notice the small gains I was making. A wee reduction in my kilometre time, nailing a hill that used to stop me in my tracks, running a bit more and walking a bit less – all things that I wouldn’t have noticed before because I was so focused on what a bad time I was having.
Then I saw a Facebook post by my friend, Laurie Wilson, about her run at the T42. In it she said, ‘When I started this lark being on my own for so long would have been hard. The voices in my head kept telling me I was too slow, too fat, too old, people were laughing. Blah, blah. Now I've pretty much shut them up. I have peace and quiet and could hear all the beautiful birds, the wind in the trees and the running rivers and waterfalls along the way.’
That right there is what I aspire to. I want to be able to hear the birds, the wind, the rivers and waterfalls. I want to feel the same peace out running as I do when I swim. And as the logical part of my brain reminds me - the only way I’m going to get there is by running more.
Copyright © 2015 Kiwi Trail Runner Magazine. All rights reserved. Reprinted with permission from Kiwi Trail Runner Magazine.
