| Article by Leah Anstis Welcome to my pity party, I hope you got the memo about this being BYO mini violins! This week, after months of reasonably solid and committed training, I pulled the pin on the target. Historically, this would be a devastating move. Something I’d spent months building up to, talking about , thinking about and worst of all … telling you all about… I’m not going to do it now! Lets wind back about 4 weeks, when I believe the slow chain of events lead to this decision began. |  |
I’d been going along well, training peaks was mostly green, I was doing what I was meant to, managing fatigue, managing that pesky plantar fascia, avoiding the rain, working, mumming, generally surviving with a relatively positive state of mind. Then the speed work started. And with that began my first problem, the involuntary internal cleanse. Every run. About 72,000 times. ‘Runners trots’ has never been a thing for me. It is now. I’ve eliminated food as the main suspect and decided its simply my insides showing me their support by running too.
Next issue to arise alongside the full body evacuation and disrupted sessions was the 100 day cough. You know the one, we’ve all had it. Starts off with a week-long cold, that you can kind of train through because it’s only a snotty nose and a just general blah feeling… but decide to proceed with your hardest run yet, and then you get the tickle. Just in your throat, until it move a bit lower… then next thing you know, you’re coughing and wheezing, you can’t breathe and with every cough and splutter, you somehow expel a every bit of your hard earned fitness until you’re left with your weak body lying next to an empty bag of potato chips and two squares of chocolate (because eating the whole block would be a bit piggy). That was me. So as a result, I missed an important and key week of training. The week I really needed to go well, was simply not possible.
My last 4 weeks have felt inconsistent, disrupted and slow. Partly due to the stomach issues, but mainly due to the different types of sessions each week, and at what time of day I do them. I know for me, being able to do things at the same time everyday is what works best. But I don’t want to do that, because that means missing out on my time with Archer. I frantically try to make arrangements and juggle every day. I juggle to be a good mum and to create opportunities to keep running and to be involved with my crew. Basically try not to miss out. Which is super hard, and actually even as I type this I’m getting upset… its impossible to feel like I have done enough, in every aspect. Why let it upset me? Because I place importance on only a few things in life, I don’t like clutter in this busy world, so family and what makes me happy – running, are what I concentrate my efforts on, and without those things working together, it doesn’t take much for me to feel like a failure. And failure has felt very present for the last few weeks. The hardest sessions for me have been the 800s. Starting off at 6x… and increasing every week. The mental mind f**k that I wasn’t hitting the pace prescribed in my plan has eaten away at my confidence, making plenty of cushy space for my old friend Self Doubt.
I tried my best to get back on the wagon last week. I did my sessions, flew around my 400s, rolled into the weekend ready to knock out a new 5k PB… only for another low blow to strike. I went well over a minute slower *face palm* seriously. I needed that PB. I brushed that shit off though. I knew my legs were really fatigued from the 400s, I’d just talked myself into a miracle. Turns out just wishing for something is a super ineffective way to get results.
Fast forward to Sunday, the day the nail was hit into the coffin. I headed off to Totara Park for a nice easy, good for the soul type run. My head needed it. On the way, I got the dreaded FB notification that I was in line for the prized James Kuegler Coaching Silly Sally doll for my recent run in with the Countdown underground carpark. Totally not stoked and pondering if I was actually expected to take that doll everywhere with me, I headed out. About 10k in, I passed the current keeper of said doll. And for a moment, I got caught up in the logistics again… then boom. Tree root, face plant, tears, OMG hole in my knee. I’ve taken skin off my knees so many times in the last 18 months, and every time its taking longer to heal. This is one of my better effort though. I can deal with grazes and gravel rash, but not holes or cuts. Instant woozy. I was lucky to have my number 1 first aider with me, well versed in cleaning out my injuries enough to get me home via a&e for some advice and extra wound care supplies. Honestly, this shit costs me so much. I’ve had to take some antibiotics for this one, and 3 days later its still really sore. Oh yeah, and I have another sore throat and a snotty nose. Can someone just give me a lead injection already?
So given ALL of these stars not aligning, I’ve decided not to race the Tauranga Half Marathon this weekend. I sure as shit don’t want to start something when I’ll very likely finish with a sub-par result. And while the physical effects, had I chosen to run this weekend, would only hamper me in the short term, I know for a fact that a poor result would absolutely destroy any motivation I have to continue running competitively in the long term. I use expectation as motivation, so this block of training and final build up to the race has become very emotionally charged for me. I expect to go faster than ever, but right now, whether its mental, physical or both, I’m not there. Too much has gone wrong. So I’m going to simmer down, try and grow some knee skin, regroup, select a new race, and calmy rebuild. Then go really fast and you’ll all be like ‘woooah sign my baby’… or something like that.
If you’re down to these last few line, thanks for sticking out my rant, I feel better for penning it. Not my knee though, that’s still sore.
Article by Leah Anstis
Next issue to arise alongside the full body evacuation and disrupted sessions was the 100 day cough. You know the one, we’ve all had it. Starts off with a week-long cold, that you can kind of train through because it’s only a snotty nose and a just general blah feeling… but decide to proceed with your hardest run yet, and then you get the tickle. Just in your throat, until it move a bit lower… then next thing you know, you’re coughing and wheezing, you can’t breathe and with every cough and splutter, you somehow expel a every bit of your hard earned fitness until you’re left with your weak body lying next to an empty bag of potato chips and two squares of chocolate (because eating the whole block would be a bit piggy). That was me. So as a result, I missed an important and key week of training. The week I really needed to go well, was simply not possible.
My last 4 weeks have felt inconsistent, disrupted and slow. Partly due to the stomach issues, but mainly due to the different types of sessions each week, and at what time of day I do them. I know for me, being able to do things at the same time everyday is what works best. But I don’t want to do that, because that means missing out on my time with Archer. I frantically try to make arrangements and juggle every day. I juggle to be a good mum and to create opportunities to keep running and to be involved with my crew. Basically try not to miss out. Which is super hard, and actually even as I type this I’m getting upset… its impossible to feel like I have done enough, in every aspect. Why let it upset me? Because I place importance on only a few things in life, I don’t like clutter in this busy world, so family and what makes me happy – running, are what I concentrate my efforts on, and without those things working together, it doesn’t take much for me to feel like a failure. And failure has felt very present for the last few weeks. The hardest sessions for me have been the 800s. Starting off at 6x… and increasing every week. The mental mind f**k that I wasn’t hitting the pace prescribed in my plan has eaten away at my confidence, making plenty of cushy space for my old friend Self Doubt.
I tried my best to get back on the wagon last week. I did my sessions, flew around my 400s, rolled into the weekend ready to knock out a new 5k PB… only for another low blow to strike. I went well over a minute slower *face palm* seriously. I needed that PB. I brushed that shit off though. I knew my legs were really fatigued from the 400s, I’d just talked myself into a miracle. Turns out just wishing for something is a super ineffective way to get results.
Fast forward to Sunday, the day the nail was hit into the coffin. I headed off to Totara Park for a nice easy, good for the soul type run. My head needed it. On the way, I got the dreaded FB notification that I was in line for the prized James Kuegler Coaching Silly Sally doll for my recent run in with the Countdown underground carpark. Totally not stoked and pondering if I was actually expected to take that doll everywhere with me, I headed out. About 10k in, I passed the current keeper of said doll. And for a moment, I got caught up in the logistics again… then boom. Tree root, face plant, tears, OMG hole in my knee. I’ve taken skin off my knees so many times in the last 18 months, and every time its taking longer to heal. This is one of my better effort though. I can deal with grazes and gravel rash, but not holes or cuts. Instant woozy. I was lucky to have my number 1 first aider with me, well versed in cleaning out my injuries enough to get me home via a&e for some advice and extra wound care supplies. Honestly, this shit costs me so much. I’ve had to take some antibiotics for this one, and 3 days later its still really sore. Oh yeah, and I have another sore throat and a snotty nose. Can someone just give me a lead injection already?
So given ALL of these stars not aligning, I’ve decided not to race the Tauranga Half Marathon this weekend. I sure as shit don’t want to start something when I’ll very likely finish with a sub-par result. And while the physical effects, had I chosen to run this weekend, would only hamper me in the short term, I know for a fact that a poor result would absolutely destroy any motivation I have to continue running competitively in the long term. I use expectation as motivation, so this block of training and final build up to the race has become very emotionally charged for me. I expect to go faster than ever, but right now, whether its mental, physical or both, I’m not there. Too much has gone wrong. So I’m going to simmer down, try and grow some knee skin, regroup, select a new race, and calmy rebuild. Then go really fast and you’ll all be like ‘woooah sign my baby’… or something like that.
If you’re down to these last few line, thanks for sticking out my rant, I feel better for penning it. Not my knee though, that’s still sore.
Article by Leah Anstis
