A Lesson in Sticking with it... (where it all began)

My first running race was our school’s house cross country. I was 7 years old, in grade three and was faced with the epic task of running 1.5km. I did win, but in fairness to the other competitors, I had technically been training for three years without even knowing it. Throughout my first three years of junior school, before cross country races were even known to exist, I found myself strangely obsessed with the game “Cops and Robbers”. I remember so clearly just loving running around, and add to that the competitive aspect of chasing people and I had absolutely found my calling. I just loved it.

After a bit of pestering, at the age of 10, my parents relented and signed me up to the local Little Athletics Club, Camberwell/Malvern. There, I found what can sometimes be a rare thing in sport: a training circle, a friendship circle, that could compete against each other AND could be the most amazing supports to one another. After we outgrew Little Athletics, we all went on to the same senior athletics club, “SSH”, in Hawthorn. Our close friendship still remains 17 years later.

It was quite poetic therefore that I should line up in my first track race for this season, wearing the same club singlet I wore in my very first race for SSH when I was 12. No, it was not a sentimental thing. I actually haven’t got around to purchasing a new singlet in 15 years of racing. It must have been quite the large singlet back in the day… hopefully. To have my running coach there who coached me from the age of 11 until last year was also something quite special. After all, it was him that had had to deal with the torturous years of teenage-hood and training a group that would not stop chatting through sessions. He had been there since the start and despite my stepping up to high level triathlon and therefore evolving to a purely triathlon based program, he remains very much a part of this journey.

Long story short, whilst I had broken 18minutes for 5km a couple of times over the winter “off the bike”, I was yet to record an official track time for the season. Before this past year, mid 18 minutes to low 19 minutes had been the norm on and off for the best part of a decade as I focused on the shorter 1500m/3km. Whilst I was now a dedicated triathlete with ultimate goals and needs of running high 16 minutes to low 17 minutes for 5km, this race wasn’t about that. It was about where I’d come from and it was about fulfilling a once highly unrealistic dream of running 17-something. When I saw 17.44.3 on the official results, it was surreal. The triathlete I am now, of course wants more…but for the runner I was, the highs and lows I’ve been through, for her, running this time was something I’d only ever dreamed about. Of course, it was then back to business and subsequent races through the season were more about getting lower in the mid 17 minutes range…. but that first race, that first official track time of 17.44.3, will always remain a treasured accomplishment. It highlights one old and trusted, but rarely adopted truth: if you find the love for something and you stick with it long enough, you WILL succeed.

My second 5km attempt came on a blustery summer afternoon at Athletics Victoria’s Shield competition. Unfortunately, due to large numbers they decided to split the race into 2 heats: sub 18mins and above 18mins. For the first time in my history, I took the more intimidating option and self-nominated for the faster heat. 3km whizzed by in 10.25, only 5 seconds off my 3km personal best. From there, I was in a world of hurt. I actually felt nauseous from the early pace, and I just wanted it to be over so badly. The last 2km was a battle. My cadence dropped, and I felt like I was running on the spot. I was unable to hide from the wind on any of the laps with the race now strung out and my concentration started to lapse. I achieved a personal best of 17.40 and therefore, another club record for that distance, but I knew I was capable of more. Falling asleep in the last 2km cost me dearly….or was it the pace of the first 3? I had one more chance to find out and to make it right.

My final 5km of the season was a complete misfire but (thankfully) I had a second chance two days later. What is usually a race known for fast times, the Milers’ Club 5km presented a perfect final hit out for the season. What had earlier in the day felt like hurricane winds were, by race time, maybe closer to a typical Melbourne Autumn day but still no one wanted to take the lead. I found myself at the front but didn’t want to be there either.  I stalled, waiting for someone to come around me but no one did. I was almost at a standstill before another runner finally took over. What I hoped would be a “fast” race had now become a tactical one and it showed at 3km as we went through in a relatively pedestrian 10.30. Having been lulled into a repetitive 3.30/km plod for each of the first 3kms, I had no change of pace to go to and stepped off the track at 3.2km, resolved to try again on Saturday. Try, I did. I went out with the boys in a blistering pace (for me): 2.35 for the first 800m and 16.20 5km pace for the first km. The second and third km were absolutely deplorable as I overcorrected following the first km. As I entered km four, I started to lap the girls and this helped. It gave me a target each straight and took me out of the pain I was in, focusing my mind on something external. I finished with a 17.44 so not the final time we were after but I was satisfied that I’d gone out and taken a risk. One day, the risk will pay off. At the very least, I’d managed 3 from 3 sub17.45 5km for the season - a time barely imaginable 12 months earlier.

From the age of 14 to 18, I did not run a single personal best time on the track. That’s a long time to go PB-less…..But I didn’t stop, I didn’t quit. It actually didn’t even cross my mind. I loved it too much. I loved my training group. I loved our ritual of buying lemonade icy-poles at Richmond train station following our afterschool training sessions at Olympic Park. I loved our little competition to NOT be the fastest runner on the sixth run-through of our warm up. I also loved the feeling of racing even when it wasn’t coupled with the feeling of winning. Peter fostered a training environment that whilst targeting high performance racing, was equally focused on longevity in the sport. For juniors, I believe this is vital. Each member of our squad competed at National level but of paramount importance at training was that we trained hard but sensibly… and we had FUN. Testament to this is where I am now, still loving running as much as I did at the very beginning.

My junior days are now well and truly behind me. I am now a triathlete (well trying to be), not a runner. I am in a new, but equally supportive and brilliant triathlon (not running) training program. But none of these facts stop me from remembering where I started. Nor do they make it any less exciting when I run a personal best time, break an athletics club record or achieve a National athletics ranking. I found the love for running and I stuck with it. It’s as simple as that.   

How Perceptions Change... (the season that was)

It was the evening before the final Xosize Triathlon Series Race of the season and I found myself nervous. I had started the season, my first racing as an Elite, also nervous. But there was a difference. I hadn’t minded what place I came in those first few races, I was simply desperate to justify my place in the Elite field. That meant finishing within a respectable margin to the leaders. That was all. But here I was, now finding myself nervous about who was my greatest competition for the win. I had experienced what a good race felt like, and secretly I wanted more.

My first season competing in triathlon “properly” can essentially be divided into 2 chapters: Before FC and after FC. Of course, FC stands for Falls Creek. When I look back at the season that was, THAT was when it all changed. I’m not just talking about my end results, but it was how the results manifested. I was racing with a completely different attitude. I was no longer racing defensively (my only concern being hoping not to humiliate myself), I was actually starting to believe I belonged (somewhere) in this sport. Something in my mindset had evolved, and without me even realizing it.

I remember my first ride at Falls Creek. The ‘coach’ had described what our first morning would entail the previous night. He made it sound so easy. An ease in to camp if you like. My naïve interpretation couldn’t have been more wrong. And what I didn’t realize that morning was that this feeling would be revisited almost daily. As awful as all these reality checks were, it made me realize something. It made me realize exactly how “green” I was in this sport, but most importantly, it made me realize that I had so much to learn and, hopefully therefore, so much to improve on. I realized too, that I was maybe capable of more than my mind had previously allowed me to believe. If someone had told me prior to Falls Creek that I could sit on my bike for 5 and a half hours, including an ascent of Mt Hotham, I unequivocally would have laughed it off. My first Falls Creek experience had been nothing short of an enormous eye opener and, therefore, it had been a resounding success.

Whilst Falls Creek instilled a small sense of “self-belief” in me, I certainly wouldn’t go as far as saying I was now a “confident” athlete. I don’t believe it’s in my nature to really be “confident,” and I actually hope that never changes. In any case, I was quite surprised to be able to string together 3 straight wins in the Xosize Triathlon Series for the Elite category upon returning from Falls Creek. Each of the 3 races gave me some encouragement but the encouragement came not at all from the end results themselves.

The first win came on very tired legs following Falls Creek. I went into the race having spent the entire prior afternoon in bed and had woken with a bit of a sore throat. I showed myself that less than ideal preparations CAN be overcome. I had a mental victory that day. It was one baby step in the right direction.

The second win was an all-out bike race. I had exited the water ahead of arguably the strongest rider in Victorian triathlon (and I would seriously vouch for her strength against any short course triathlete in Australia).  Essentially, I waited for her. I knew she’d come past at some point, and quite honestly, I needed to be ready to get on her wheel when she did. Her strength was such that I knew we could reel in the rest of the field and fend off any attacks from behind. But any weakness and I’d be dropped instantly. I drank up, spun the legs, and primed myself for the attack. From 5km when she caught me, to 15km, I was attacked over and over again. It was more brutal than any crit race I’d done, but if I could just hang on and take some turns myself (to preserve the friendship), I’d be over the moon..…….and luckily I did. We dismounted our bikes in perfect unison next to one another and ran into T2 side by side. For me, that was enough of a victory there and then. The cyclist I was 8 months ago would have been absolutely decimated, and the fact I wasn’t, well that was a win for me (and, quite possibly, a small miracle).

The third win came about following my best swim of the season. Normally the fields are relatively strung out and you see maybe 2 athletes, then another 2 etc. exit the water. But this time, there were about 5 of us out within 2 seconds of each other. For me, this was huge. I was actually in a full-on drafting RACE.    

Finally, my last main race of the season came at Port Arlington in arctic conditions. Training had entered the ‘maintenance’ phase signaling the wind down to the season end and I was fresh. I was too fresh and I felt flat and unfit (irrational after really only a week of wind down, I know). If I had taken 2 steps forward in my swim the previous week, then this felt like 100 steps backwards. BUT, I got on my bike and played whatever mind games I could to drive myself through the roaring headwinds and down the wide, baron (slightly boring?) country roads with barely a soul in sight. Dismounting the bike, now in second place, I gave 2 and a half minutes to an absolute class act of an athlete ahead. I was sure that’s where the margin would remain. To my surprise (and apparently the officials too who were quite perplexed as to where I’d appeared from), it didn’t. At the finish, I came within a slightly frustrating 30 seconds after an hour and a half of racing. But, at this stage, whilst I love to be able to stand on a podium after a race, it really is the little things in a race that excite me …. Or irritate me. To have such an underwhelming swim was a disappointment, but to not fall off my bike on the seriously intimidating hill out of T1, was a huge relief.

Medals and podiums aside, I am just so excited to finally be able to sit in packs on the bike, find feet in the swim (on good days) and to be able to use my run from near the front rather than playing catch up from behind. Things are slowly, slowly, slowly, starting to fall into place. But I’m under no illusions that there remains a long, long road ahead. This season has simply been a prelude to the hard work ahead, and I know that.      

A New Beginning (the intro post)

The first day of my new life as a triathlete began on an icy morning in the middle of winter last year. A count down from 5 – 1 signaled the start. I was standing pool deck, fully clothed and completely bewildered by the mass of 12-16 year olds who apparently knew what this count down represented. As time would tell, whether you were in the pool on 1, or out, was the only thing that mattered at 6am, 5 mornings a week. A gesture of leniency given it was my first day and I was soon enough amongst the other swimmers…. Who were at least 10 years my junior!

Just 3 days earlier, I had been sitting at my desk on the top floor of 101 Collins Street – also known as the hub of finance and Investment Banking in Melbourne. Now I was swimming in a lane with 12 year olds, in Geelong, Victoria with no desk job to attend to. It was a weird feeling. There was no client in London hastily requiring an update of our BHP model, or research sales in Hong Kong needing a sensitivity analysis done pronto. It was definitely an odd feeling and to be honest, I still feel like I’m simply on annual leave… a really long annual leave. Morgan Stanley had been as supportive as an Investment Bank possibly could be of my outside endeavors and for that, I thank them. If it weren’t for that, I would have had to make this tough decision earlier. That, or I possibly never would have been able to achieve what I did whilst working, which then would never have prompted the cross road that it did. Either way, I owe a lot to Morgan Stanley and the close knit team in Melbourne in particular. Maybe it’s separation anxiety (that remains 7 months later?) but I am convinced of returning there one day. Yes, the hours are long, 80+ hour weeks are not out of the ordinary, but the work is fast-paced, fun and rewarding (yep, I’m a finance nerd)….. But nonetheless, I found myself sans Blackberry, and my corporate attire had been replaced by bathers and running gear. My “gap”  year/s had begun….

Fast forward 7 months and I sit here having been through the most amazing journey, and one I hope will continue. I certainly miss my ‘other’ career but do not regret for one moment, the decision I have made to give myself every chance of reaching my triathlon potential (whatever that may be). I can ‘work’ the rest of my life, but for now, it’s all things triathlon…with my Chartered Financial Analyst (CFA) study on the side.

There have been a plethora of awkward, embarrassing, EPIC fails along the way and I know there are so many more ahead. Make no mistake, I am every part a total rookie as I sit here writing this 7 months down the track….which makes what I have been prior to now….well….a complete and utter…RUNNER!

There was my first group ride, which included “efforts” in which we had to stay in a line behind none other than super triathlete, Pete Kerr. Seriously! At that point, I had barely ever ridden more than 60mins, and was not known for anything even close to a strong bike leg. Naturally, I was dropped within about 30 seconds and given my shocking sense of direction, got lost and sat, peeling grass somewhere between Geelong and Torquay….for 30 minutes! I ride by that patch of grass at least weekly now, and silently salute the girl that sat there 6 months earlier. Everyone has to start somewhere. It’s remembering that starting point that makes me appreciate so much more when I don’t get dropped by known cyclists, whose mission it is to drop “the runner” in draft-legal races.  

There was my first crit race. I got dropped on the neutral lap, not realizing that we rolled through into the race itself. I had just sat happily off the back for the entire lap, thinking we’d regroup before setting off for the race. That was awkward, but my lesson was learnt and NOT repeated at the following race.

There was the time I put a rib out whilst diving in at a swimming carnival in Colac…against 10 year olds. That was embarrassing, and I couldn’t sleep for 2 days due to the extraordinary pain. A chiro visit later, and I was back on track…and working on my dive starts.

Then, there was my first ‘elite’ Gatorade triathlon. I solo’d the entire bike leg and I have no shame in saying that I was solo off the back, and ultimately, 3 minutes down into T2. Luckily, I ran the fastest time by a few minutes and recovered what would have otherwise been quite a memorable entrée into elite racing. It was, at the very least, a perfect example of draft legal racing and the huge importance of swimming well. I had only been 15 seconds down out of the water but whether it’s 1 second or 1 minute, if you miss the pack or even a wheel, it makes for a tough tough day!

Thankfully, despite the above, my general trajectory is definitely up. I am learning so much every day, and it’s starting to come through in results. I’ve been fortunate enough to get a few podiums and even a few wins this season in my first as an ‘elite’. Essentially, this is representative of the amazing training environment I’m part of down in Geelong, and the expert guidance of Jarrod Evans. If anyone can turn a ‘runner’ into a rookie triathlete, and then a rookie into (hopefully) something better, it’s him! Here’s hoping the improvement continues at the same rate.

S