The Zone:
This is going to sound bizzare coming from a rank amateur athlete with no hope of being anything more than a mid-field muppet, but in the lead up to a race I start to get into a bit of a zone. I have to add at this juncture that its not me that has assigned the label 'athlete', but rather people like the dietian that I consulted and even Coach G - it doesn't quite sit comfortably with me yet, but maybe one day I will consider myself to be an athlete. Anyway, back to the zone...
For me the zone is when everyday activities start to take on significance for the race and training starts to be a little more focussed. For instance, walking along the street last Tuesday evening I started to visualise finishing the race. I focussed on the what my running form should be like and adjusted my posture and cadence as I walked. The same has happened during my 400 metre intervals over the last couple of weeks; concentrating on form and stride over anything else, while visualising various parts of the race.
I have to be careful, because on longer, slower runs I also start to slip into this and my pace starts to creep up when I know I should be moderating it. This also happened when out riding with James on Friday; what should have been a nice easy ride to Portobello and back turned out to be a ride at over 30km/hour.
Pre-race Ritual
I am not sure when this started or why, but for at least the last 12 months, I have taken to performing a little ritual the night before any significant race. This race was no different and I performed every detail as I for the last dozen or so big races.
From Thursday I deliberately refrained from shaving, so that I had three or four days' growth come the eve of the race. On Saturday evening before retiring to bed I set out all my race gear, pinned my race number to my race shirt, put the timing transponder on my laces and the very last thing I did was shave off the stubble so I'd be clean shaven in the morning.
I have no idea how, or indeed if, this helps. Perhaps it just calms the nerves. That being said, you'd think that calmed nerves would help me sleep.
Restless Night
I went to bed this evening with Dean Karnazes' Ultra Marathon Man. Its a great read and I am astrounded about what that man puts his body through and some of the parallels I observed between him and I (e.g. his working class upbringing, his sister's death at about the same time in his life as mine had died in mine and his work situation and the sorts of things that drove him to run). I read for about an hour and I set the alarm on the Garmin that I had borrowed for the race, checked it, checked it again, turned the light off, turned it back on again and checked the alarm again and connected it to the charger (it had 83% left on the battery, but I wasn't taking any chances). When I finally turned the light out at a little after 11pm I tapped the end of the bed with my foot 7 times just in case the alarm didn't go off (Mum told me when I was a kid, that if you tap the end of the bed the same number of times as the time you want to wake up, you'll wake up at that time).
I fell asleep pretty quickly, but woke abruptly at 12:30 having had a very strange dream about soiling the bed. It was very bizarre and very vivid. I could even smell the stench that I had made in my dream (perhaps I farted in my sleep and couldn't stand the smell). I got up to the loo, just in case.
I then woke again at 2:40am, 3:50am (when the heavy rain started) and finally at 6:10am. I just gave up on the idea of any further sleep at that point and turned on the bedside lamp so that I could switch off the alarm that I had so dilligently set (three times!) the night before. I hadn't been nervous about the race at all as it was my 13th half marathon, the second time I'd run this particular race and not a real target, just part of training. There must have been something that wasn't obvious to me that was in fact creating some tension for me and this finally came out in the last night before the race.
I picked up where I had left off with Ultra Marathon Man and discovered that the next chapter was entitled 'Soiling the Lexus'. Perhaps, I'd glanced at this just before turing out the light last night and it had triggered the bizzare bed-soiling dream. More than just a coincidence, I think. I read until 7am, got dressed and headed downstairs in the dark for breakfast. I navigated the stairs well even though it was pitch black and seeing a dim light coming through the kitchen window I confidently strided towards the kitchen door. WHACK! I walked straight into a piece of furniture and I could feel the bruise instantly welling up in my right quad (thigh). I couldn't yell out as at least one of the household (Mikey, my old boss and good friend) was still asleep and the other two (Jody, Mikey's wife and Cooper, their child) were just rising, but I can tell you I said a few very choice words under my breath. I did the very same thing last year and I was pissed off that I hadn't remembered the unfortunate positioning of the furniture.
Breakfast was hastily prepared and eaten (4 weetbix with milk), I had a breif chat with Jody and Cooper and I headed out the door into the cold and very wet morning for the 15 minute walk to the start line. I arrived with 90 minutes before race start and started to prepare myself.
To be continued...
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