Happy Mother’s Day to the woman who has loved me unconditionally since the day I was born. Even when I threw tantrums, embarrassed her at children’s birthday parties, kept her awake when I was sick, learnt to drive, dragged her to Body Attack, and left Melbourne well before she was ready for me to go.
P.S. we were never a great team in the game ‘getting to school’. I may be a couple of decades late, but I get that it wasn’t your fault. And the Corinella Party? Pretty sure I turned out just fine without it. So forgive yourself and realise that you got it right. Three times.
I couldn’t be with my Mum this mother’s day, but I did have some fun running in the Mother’s Day classic:
…a different kind of running. And a big thanks to Kristy for taking this awesome shot.
Sometimes, running and/or walking should just be for fun. No time. No pressure.
And in costume.
We got macarons for being well-dressed.
I am still not running training. Sad face. But, with any luck, Señor Swiss Ball will help me channel my inner awesome runner this week. For the last few days, the rules have been no running, no cycling, no rowing, very light elliptical work, and slow move, high rep strength work.
And if you’re reading this…please make it happen. A girl can only take so much non-catabolic activity. It’s criminal.
When karma gets you for doing something is completely useless to your every day life
Not running also making me batty.
Yesterday, I meant to go to the gym at lunch time, once I finished catching up on the week’s invoicing. At 5pm, I was finally done, and when I left the gym, I noticed that the nail salon across the road was still open. Never one to think things through, I took my sweaty self in and asked for a mani/pedi.
As the kind woman operating the foot spa scraped the crap off my poor runner feet and black toenails, I looked at her in horror.
I’ve left my wallet at home. And my phone. Can I please borrow yours?
She looked at me, got up quietly, handed me the phone, and watched in amusement as I dialled my own number.
That’s right friends. 5 1/2 years into my relationship, I do not know Mr The Rake’s number.
Luckily for me, a very serious man answered
Hello, this is Kate’s phone, [Mr The Rake] speaking.
Hi babe, I was wondering if you could help me out?
So I’m at the nail parlour.
And I don’t have my wallet.
It’s in the hallway.
Could you please bring it down for me?
30 minutes later, Mr The Rake opened the sliding door, looked at me, said
The traffic’s pretty bad
Put my handbag at my feet, and walked out.
Guess who walked home in disposable thongs?
Happy Mother’s Day, and have a great weekend!
Have you ever dressed up for a race?
How often do you have a break from running?
When was the last time you let your purse or wallet at home?
Tonight, Mr The Rake and I had dinner with another couple.
Kate, do you watch Gossip Girl?
Mr The Rake:
Oh, you watched the first half of season one.
Congratulations, that’s 5 1/2 seasons less shit than my girlfriend. Wanna swap?
Play along time! For those who haven’t participated in Mental Monday, it’s a chance to take a negative thought, and replace it with a positive one – related or unrelated. I sometimes find it hard to get going on a Monday, and so it’s my way to start the week off right!
You can join in by commenting or sharing the link on your own page.
Negative thought: I have to cram everything into a stupidly short week – 3 jobs is way too many jobs!
Speaking of moments … get excited. In fact, I got so excited I made Superwoman stop mid-phone call. Because…
I made it through an entire tempo run!
30 mins at 12km/hr. This sounds so pathetic, but mentally, the tempo run has really screwed with me. I have never done a full one without stopping, and adding tempo runs to the routine is pretty new for me.
I loved all of your comments after the Mr The Rake interview. He may not be a runner, but he’s definitely good value!
If you follow me on Twitter, Facebook or Instagram, you likely saw my race today.
Getting our Santa on
It was Santa fun run day.
Superman getting buff
I ran with three girls from the gym, and Superwoman and her husband (Superman?).
Superwoman and Kate making friends with the local Santas
We chilled out and ran together. Except for the bit where we got split into two groups. And the bit where Superman strode out and I thought he wanted to race, so I sprinted to the finish, which was actually the start, and realised I had to keep running another half kilometre.
I ran without my watch, I ran for pleasure, I ran with friends, I let superwoman tell me to forget it for awhile, and I gave myself some relaxed time. And I will again. Until I have the desire to step it up.
And I think that’s a really valuable thing for me to learn. And I’m sure some of you can relate.
A goal is great, but we don’t always have to be reaching for that goal. It’s ok to have an aim, but to let it lie fallow. To wait for the time to strike.
If there’s anything I’ve learned over the last few months, it’s that humans are incredibly adaptable. Our minds and bodies can do amazing things, and it’s absolutely worth just going along for the ride.
Running is a wonderful teacher in that way. Bodies change, adapt, and bounce back. Two and a half weeks post-marathon, I am back into speed sessions – the kind that leave me on the railings, trying not to throw up (oh to be a runner – that fine line between ‘push on’ and ‘find a bathroom, stat!’).
My time in Florida taught me that we can conquer fear and anxiety, and stand up tall, face our competitors, and come out smiling (this was a law trial competition – I know you were confused there!). It also taught me that even after eating weeks of terrible food, working through the night and battling jet lag, bodies can deal with short-term stress, and within weeks my jeans fit again, and I was able to get through my exams.
A very jet-lagged Kate in a very sunny garden at Stetson Law School, Florida
Finally, I have now.
It’s pretty obvious that I’m working stupid hours getting this thesis ready for Monday’s submission. It feels like the last 10km of a marathon – painful, fuzzy and slow.
From time to time, it’s ok to chill.
To chill about what you’re eating.
To have some fun.
To study with friends.
Lil and the Law Man
To work until 2am.
To take an unplanned rest day!
Be the chameleon – what have you got to lose?
When we ordered a pizza tonight, I asked them to draw love hearts on the box, because I needed a smile, and maybe they’d like one too.
Inside the pizza box
How do you ‘be the chameleon’?
When is it time to chill, and allow some things to slip to the back burner?
What has running taught you about life?
*To my lovely blogging friends – I am so sorry I haven’t been able to do as much reading and commenting lately. I’m trying to make sure I get everyone every few days. I haven’t forgotten you! I’m coming back – I’m just staring into the abyss of words and it’s a little all-consuming!
Ready for an epic race recap? I’ll do my best not to make it too drawn out
Time to go!
I feel like I could not have been any more prepared for this race. I was ready to go – plenty of carbs, well hydrated, well-rested and feeling … springy.
Some time before 6am, my fabulous Mum and Dad drove me to the MCG (Melbourne Cricket Ground – our huge Melbourne sporting arena) along with my cousin Emily, who was running the 10km.
This was Australia’s biggest marathon in history – 7000 people lined up for the marathon, and 30 000 people participated across all events.
Emily and I before the race
All too soon it was time to line up, find the 4 hour pacer, and chat to the people at the start line.
Some douch-bag with a microphone blathered on about pacing and being a smart runner. It may just be me, but seriously, if you aren’t running, shut the hell up.
There were 3 4 hour pacers. I followed the first one I saw. To get through in 4 hours, we needed to run each km at about a 10.6km/h pace.
This guy was running well over 11km/hour.
I dropped back to the second pacer (with Cait on my shoulder telling me to run my own pace and chick ‘em later!) – this guy was also going quickly, but at a very comfortable pace. Until 30km, I think I averaged around 10.7/10.8km/h. Each 10km was around 57 mins.
Finish time and splits
As I moved back, an older man came up behind me:
You aren’t doing much chicking. Looks like you’re getting bloked.
Stuff ya mate! He wished me luck as he moved on, and just for kicks, I passed a few more blokes.
At the 10km mark, I freaked out – my foot was tingling.
What the hell? This was something I hadn’t experienced before. I toyed with the idea of loosening my laces. But reminded myself I had intentionally kept them loose (and tightly knotted!). Passing through a drinks station, I quickly forgot, and after that my feet were totally fine (you know, for someone pounding the pavement for four hours).
I passed some people, and others passed me. There was a lot of luck and lot of smiling.
At this point, my fuel plan was flawless.I wanted a gel at every 8km, and a drink at each station (whatever I felt I needed).
At 16km I was 2 gels down. My stomach twinged, and I figured I should listen to it and let the stuff dilute a bit. I intended to split my gels after this, rather than to take them all at once.
Totally prepared with the gels!
The 20km mark was magic – I felt great, I hit the line at 1:53:00 and everything was good. As I hit the half marathon point, I thought of our friend Jes at rUnladylike – last week she ran a half iron-man (you know, a couple of weeks out from her marathon – no biggie Jes!). When she hit the ‘half-marathon to go’ point, she had swum AND just been on an epic ride.
That’s it Kate, imagine jumping off a bike, this is just the beginning of the run – go for it!
And then I got to 23km and everything fell apart.
This is also where we go into TMI.
I have stomach problems, and have had since I was 10. Generally I have them under control these days, but if anything is going to set it off, it’s running.
I downed 2 immodium before even staring the race, but at 23km I had that horribly urgent thought -
I need a bathroom. NOW.
Naturally, as soon as I finally saw a bathroom, the pain went away, and I hit my pace again. I downed my third immodium and moved on.
I was so prepared for this – oh dear!
At the next drink station, I pulled out my gel.
Nope. It wasn’t going to happen. I was sure that it would be the end of me, my breakfast and my race if I tried to swallow any more. I chucked it aside and hustled to get powerade at the aid station.
Until about 32 or 33km, everything was ok, I was on pace, and apart from an occasional twinge, all was dandy.
However, I knew my wall was coming up, and yet there was no way in hell I could get another gel down. All I could hope for was as much powerade as I could get.
St Kilda Road is a long stretch, and it was a looooong time until I found my drink. By this point I was slowing down dramatically. I was running on empty and I knew it.
Around 35km, some poor sod in front of me let one rip in a BIG way. Poor guy, I think he might have sharted (best word ever), and feeling sick, I wasn’t sticking around to find out. I chicked him.
In the high 30s, Mum and Dad were there, cheering me on. It was awesome to see them, knowing that I had run further than I ever had before.
Dad photography (thanks Dad!)
All of a sudden, we were in the botanic gardens. Giving up on my 4 hour goal, I just focused on chugging along, one foot in front of the other. Single digits left, one drink station to the next.
Run your own race, go your own pace.
Then it happened. The terrible choice – run, or follow in the poor sod’s footsteps. I was furious with myself. I looked desperately for a porta-loo, but none in sight.
Instead, I walked for about 200m and concentrated on breathing. A man with the best of intentions encouraged me along – I didn’t have the heart to tell him that if I ran, he did NOT want to be behind me.
I picked it up again, only to have the same thing happen at about 40.3km. I gritted my teeth, had a quick walk, and figured there was a drink station within the next km.
When I first saw the course map, I was shocked that there was a drink station so close to the end.
Holy crap was I glad it was there.
At this point there was no turning back. Somehow, some way, I made it into the MCG.
We had about 300m to run once inside. I thought I had nothing left, but then I saw the clock – 4:08:45. I have no idea why I could push then, but I did. I crossed the line a little after 4:09, and immediately lost the plot. I don’t know what I looked like, but a volunteer grabbed me immediately after I crossed the line. Embarrassingly, she sat me down at the first aid tent, where I was told to sit still and drink slowly.
None of that! I tried to get up as soon as I could, only to find my legs wouldn’t work. With no thought other than ‘get out’, I shuffled down the ramp slower than I thought was possible. I cried.
I looked up, and saw Mr The Rake and Chelsea banging on the glass. I waved, and continued shuffling.
I finally got through the medal carriers, the drink stations and the clothes pick-up (which I didn’t use) and found myself outside.
Mum, Dad, Chels and The Rake were nowhere to be found.
I walked toward the expo, found a doorway, sat down, and bawled. I had nothing left. Nothing.
After what seemed like an eternity I stood up, and shuffled directly into Chels and Mr The Rake. I have never been so glad to see anyone in my life! They had phones. I could sit.
Realising I was in bad shape, they offered the world’s best advice:
You’ve just run a marathon! Feel free to shit yourself.
I loved them so much at that point (and no, I did not).
You know what? I finished. I finished a freakin’ marathon.
With Mum at the end
Anyone up for the Gold Coast half next July? Or the Rozelle 10km in December?
Give me a few weeks - this runnerchick is a runnerchick for life.
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I am Kate, a 24 year old Aussie living in Sydney. During the week, I run a business and spend time with my other half – Mr The Rake. In every spare second in between, I run.
I started Run With Kate to track my progress as I worked toward running the Melbourne Marathon.
I ran it. And I kept running. Running has helped me to overcome anxiety and disordered eating. It’s given me new friends, new goals, and a totally new outlook on life. Join me as I share my running adventures (and stupid stories) and share your adventures in return.
The Goal Getter Challenge : At the start of each month, choose a goal to aim for. On the last day of the month, post a photo with your progress to instagram or twitter using the #goalgetter2013 tag. See you there!