The Good Coast and the Bad Coast (my GC race update – long post warning): let’s start with the bad and get it out of the way, shall we?

Despite a really solid build in the lead up to my 2024 ‘A Race’ the last two weeks before race day rotted into a puddle of shit (literally and figuratively) and self-pity. During an innocuous late night drive my insulated cup that was filled with green tea tipped and spilled onto my arm, causing the skin to blister and split. I was later diagnosed with a second degree burn which required a new dressing every few days, and I was forbidden to sweat for fear of causing an infection. Which was really solid medical advice but really awful to hear with so much riding on the day.

But the descent into self-pity didn’t stop there. As a precaution, the hospital gave me a tetanus injection and I had an unusual and painful reaction to it, with a swollen and angry upper arm for the next ten days or so. Honestly, the reaction site hurt more than the burn.

But just as I thought I was emerging from the morass I woke up sick. I suspect I picked up the bug by going in and out of the medical clinic for my frequent dressing changes. With a thick throat, a bad cough, a heavy chest and a bad headache. I waited and watched the clock tick down to race day and felt my optimism seep down the proverbial.

So race day itself was scary. I had a quiet cry on the start line as I farewelled my hard work and my intentions of a PB, but I also pep talked my way out of it knowing that it was not my fault, that there would be many more races, and that I could still make the most of a really special occasion. And as the gun went off, I picked my race day manta, which would be ‘that many people would love to have my bad runs.’ So as the gold sun crested the glittering beaches, I decided I was going to do my very best, with whatever I had available to me, and know that it was enough.

Of course, it was tough going. The coughing meant I’d had almost zero sleep and the flu meant my tummy was unhappy from the start and I had to stop (actually, lets make that scramble!) to the toilet at the 8km mark. It was a close call. I tried to spend as little time in there as possible, but you know, some things can’t be rushed. But I felt lighter and better for a while, and continued to focus on my mantra and the joy of movement. Until the nausea became too much at about 20km and I had to lean over the edge of the road and deposit the murky contents of my stomach on a strip of grass. Huge apologies to the runners behind me. Then on I went, until mother nature demanded another unceremonious scramble to the toilet again at about 36km. Seriously, where was this stuff coming from? So with both ends feeling raw, I clawed my way along the never ending road to the finish line and brought it home with an ugly cry.

But there was one more thing to my indignity. Despite running in a very trusted bra, I had changed the straps from straight over the shoulder to an x back, and for whatever reason the new configuration caused mega chafe. I had used body glide and physio tape (this is a problem area for me, and I’m familiar with it) but still I chafed to bleeding across my chest and you can see the blood (with a special garnish of vomit) in my finish line photos. It was agony. Yes, I know. I’m the poster girl for why not to take up marathon running.

Which brings me to the good stuff:

By far and away the best thing about this amazing race was the support. I honestly didn’t know how far the borders of slow coach land had extended, until I saw the messages, PMs, texts, calls and kudos flood in. You have no idea how this lifted me up, maybe even changed my outlook, and I think it made all the difference.

I had cheers from participants and spectators, some who knew me and many who didn’t, but the goodwill creates a kind of wave that enabled me to surf.  I was also running in a new-ish pair of Hoka Mach X shoes and I absolutely loved them. They were both functional, comfortable and pretty, and they gave me as much ‘cruise’ as it was possible to find on a day like that.

I had had great training, and my coach Anne-Marie had prepared me physically and mentally, and she lived in my head during the run. I stuck to the race plan, such as it was, and was genuinely gratified to find I could maintain pace despite all the challenges. That’s a total credit to her training and clocking up the PB despite three stops and a mountain of inconvenience was a bonus too beautiful to comprehend.

But finally, the biggest and bestest and most overwhelmingly good thing about the day was having my family at the finish line. My two sons, Seb’s beautiful partner Erica and my husband Wayne piled on in a group hug and the force of their love literally transformed me from a soggy and self-pitying puddle to a happy, proud and empowered runner all in the space of seconds. It was one of the best moments of my life. (My husband Wayne also ran the marathon. But he’s annoying in that he’s fast, talented and athletic and had more than an hour’s wait for me to finish. But he looks good in running pants so I’ll allow it.) 

So anyway, if you’ve read this far, thanks for the journey. As always, the transformation is not in completing the marathon. Its in becoming the person who can face the challenges, embrace the day, look fear in the eyes and do it anyway. Make no mistake, it was a team effort. And you were a big part of it.