when things don’t go as planned during a race

 

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Race pack pick-up and bike racking on Saturday

A couple of Sundays back, I did the Sanfo Jinhai Lake triathlon for the second time. Having done a sprint and two Olympic distance races last year, I was feeling good about this year’s race. I’d trained with a swim coach for a few months, and I was going to do the race in my brand new dhb one-piece tri suit and my new Shimano cleat shoes, hoping all these would help with improving my race time.

As you can see from the title of this post, things didn’t go as planned on race day, despite my familiarity with the race course, prior experience and advanced prepping (training, nutrition, sleep, tapering). Bear with me as I reflect on what and how things didn’t quite go as planned on race day.

A bad night’s sleep

After sleeping like a champ for months, I took for granted that Saturday night would be no different, apart from sleeping in a hotel bed and having to wake up at 4 am on Sunday morning. I got into bed a little after 10 pm and pretty much tossed and turned until the alarm went off at 4 am. As I laid awake struggling to fall asleep, I regretted the late afternoon coffee and the beer I had at dinner, realising these were probably the reasons why I was having trouble falling into deep sleep.

003Bad swim strategy

Swimming has never been my strong suit in a tri, and I haven’t trained swimming freestyle as much as I’d like to, so my freestyle swimming speed is often slower than my breaststroke. I was determined to swim freestyle as much as possible for this tri, and I did end up doing so. But for one reason or another, I ended swimming too close to the buoys and was often squashed between two or more other swimmers. This year’s swim took me two minutes longer than last year, which I wasn’t too happy about. I took comfort in the fact that my friends who did the race also found the swim tough going, though they’re all faster in the water than me.

 

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Still in good spirits in T1

 

Shoelace drama

I’d originally planned to wear my Nikes to run, as I’ve already put elastic lock laces on them. I decided on Friday night to wear my Mizunos instead, as they matched my new tri suit (oh vanity). I went out, bought a new pair of laces and put them on my Mizunos. They worked fine all of Saturday and looked ok on Sunday morning when I was setting up my transition area.

So imagine my horror when I found out during T2 that the ‘lock laces’ on my left shoe had come undone. The only option left for me was to tie it up the best I could and pray they don’t come off. The point of lock laces is that they don’t need to be tied up, which meant they didn’t remain tied for too long. I stopped four times just to tie my laces over the course of the 10k run, which was super frustrating.

 

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Smiling in spite of my frustration

 

Despite this, I still finished the run 13 mins faster than last year. I’d been most worried about running when I first started doing triathlons a year ago and have invested considerable time and effort getting coaching, training and doing marathons and trail runs. To see that my hard work paid off gives me great joy and satisfaction.

With that, I hope that my swimming speed will eventually improve. I’ve been taking swimming lessons to correct and improve my technique for a few months. Progress is slower than I like as the pool I train at has been getting more crowded and I’ve been cutting down my swimming volume.

What is your most memorable race day mishap? How did you deal with it?

My first duathlon – Powerman Beijing

 

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I was right behind the blond wearing the Ironman tri suit 🙂

I’ve always wondered why it’s taken so long for duathlons to come to a land-locked city such as Beijing. I’ve met so many exceptional local runners and cyclists who’d do a tri if only they knew how to swim or had the confidence to swim in open water. Ironically, I found out about Powerman China‘s Beijing race from a local cyclist who DNF’d on the swim leg of the Sanfo tri. He persuaded the organisers to let him do the bike and run legs of the race but didn’t get a ranking. He hasn’t done another tri since then.

I forwarded the Powerman China registration link to my local cycling group in early March. The organisers were doing a Women’s Day promotion, giving women who registered on 8 March a steep discount on the registration fee and a necklace with a ‘PowerQueen’ pendant. One of the girls in the cycling group wanted to do it, and a group of us followed her lead. Most of the ladies registered for the short race (5km run-30km cycling-5km run), while three of us signed up for the classic distance (10km run-60km cycling-10km run). More members of our cycling club signed up when official registration opened for everyone later.

Organising a race or any event in Beijing is usually fraught with uncertainties and difficulties. This race had the misfortune of picking the same weekend as the Belt and Road Forum, when Beijing and its surrounding areas were on high security. The organisers informed us in late April that the race was postponed to the weekend after, which meant quite a few people had to pull out due to scheduling conflicts.

 

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Duathlon transition set-up was such a breeze compared to a tri.

After falling off my bike on a descent in late April, the left side of my body had been so sore and bruised that I couldn’t do any training for about ten days. By the time the pain and aches completely subsided, it was already a week to race day. I decided I will just be content with finishing this race and not concern myself with my time.

Race weekend finally arrived. The Saturday when we had to pick up our race packs, attend the race briefing and rack our bikes was also the hottest day Beijing’s experienced in years. After a week of receiving confusing instructions about race pack pick-up and bike racking from the organiser, we were not pleased to find out that the race briefing and transition area (i.e. actual race venue) was situated 8 km away from where we picked up our race packs. Due to construction in the park, the most direct route was obstructed and we had to do a detour to get there. We missed the race briefing by the time we arrived, so we just racked our bikes and got on the shuttle to head back to town. We ended up meeting the two Aussie elites who were doing the race and had a good chinwag about Powerman Zofingen, the different between elite and pro athletes and their full-time jobs back in Brisbane (yes, I was over the moon when I found out they were from the same city as me).

 

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We shared the run course with bikes, casual park visitors with their children and dogs.

 

Race day arrived. Classic distance athletes started at 9:30 am and the short distance athletes started at the ungodly hour of 12:30 pm. Thank God the weather had cooled down overnight, but the maximum temperature was still 31 degrees. I started too fast on the run, and heated up very quickly. I slowed right down to keep pace with B, but my heart rate remained in Zone 4 throughout.

I was looking forward to cycling as the weather warmed up. The cycling course was basically a flat 10-km loop that we had to do six times. In preparation for the heat, I’d filled up my bladder with water and froze it overnight, hoping that by the time I started cycling, the ice would’ve melted and I’d get to sip on cold water while having a cool ice pack on my back. As I’ve never been skilled at drinking out of the water bottle while riding, this turned out to be one of the best decisions I made. I was relaxed and well hydrated throughout the race and never had to slow down to pick up one of the water bottles from the supply station.

WeChat Image_20170525161501The last run leg was difficult as I had tummy discomfort for the first 2 km and had to take it very easy. When I got to the finish line, I was very pleased to see that I’d finished 4 minutes before my anticipated finish time of 4:30. When the results were eventually posted for both distances, I was happy to see that almost all my friends placed either overall or in their age groups. There was only an award ceremony for the elites, while the rest of us received prizes sponsored by Northwave and Garmin. I came in third in my age group (10th overall female) and received a pair of Northwave ‘Women on Wheels’ cycling gloves. This was the first time I’ve placed in any race, and I was glad I got a practical prize rather than a(nother) medal or plague.

I haven’t decided if I’ll do another duathlon in the future. Apparently all top three age-group placers will get priority entry and a discount on the registration fee for the Powerman Zofingen race. I guess I’ll decide when I receive the email from the organisers.

 

 

 

The North Face Ultra Trail Challenge – my first ultra

 

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the start of an unforgettable experience

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I toed the start line for the 50-km race at The North Face Ultra Trail Challenge on Easter Sunday. For a month before the race, I stressed out about running in the dark, staying awake during the race, whether doing the race will actually aggravate my shin splints and whether or not I should run with sticks. It didn’t help that I’d been suffering from allergies brought on by torrents of Beijing’s willow catnips and dust and I was on a daily diet of antihistamines, which kept me in a groggy state most of the time, despite sleeping 8-9 hours every night. My long outdoor training runs were cut short by fits of coughing and sniffles.

The evening of the race, I met up S for a pizza dinner, our final carb loading before the race. We then met up with three other acquaintances who were also doing the race at the metro station and took the organiser’s shuttle to the race venue. After an hour or so of prepping, checking and taking a couple of selfies, we took our spot at the start line and began doing warm-up exercises to the loud, pumping pop music and the shouts of the Chinese hosts. The music and warm-up exercises did little to stifle my yawning, and I wondered how I was going to stay awake for the next ten hours of so.

As it turned out, my worries were unfounded. Once Cinderella hour struck and I began shuffling forwards with 1700 other runners, I stopped yawning and was wide awake. It was probably the excitement of doing my first night trail run mixed with the fear of losing my way that fueled my sudden burst of energy.

I faced my first unexpected challenge after running for more than 10 km. I was caught in the middle pack at a narrow uphill climb, and couldn’t continue climbing at my own pace. It was stop-start for at least 30 minutes and I caught a chill when I reached the top of the hill. I suddenly felt a desperate need to use a toilet but was told there wasn’t one for at least another 8 km.  I was on a narrow part of the route and it was impossible to relieve myself in the bushes without being seen by other runners. After taking a painkiller to relieve the cramps, I pushed on for another 3-4 km until I was too much in pain to continue. At this point, the volunteers directed me to the nearby bushes off the designated race route to do whatever I had to do. I’d never felt so relieved (pun intended) as I did at that time.

 

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Beijing’s glittery lights took my breath away

 

After this slightly embarrassing and traumatic episode, I wasn’t sure if I felt up to running the remaining 35 km, yet it was too cold to stay still. So I decided to continue running until the next checkpoint where there’d be sweeper vans then make an assessment if I was physically able to keep going.

I kept plugging on until I got to the 30-km mark, where I bumped into T. I was surprised to see him there as I was convinced he’d be at the front of the pack with the rest of my friends, as he’s a sub-4:00 marathoner. He told me his tank completely ran out when he got to this checkpoint and he’d been resting for the last hour or so. He admitted he hadn’t trained on trails at all and road running fitness was no guarantee of doing well on a trail run with significant elevation (we’d done 1500m out of 2300m). We discussed if we should both call it a day and just get on the next sweeper van, then decided to give it a go until the next checkpoint at the 42-km mark. After we started running, it was obvious T had gotten his steam back, and I told him to go ahead and I’ll try to catch up.

 

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one of the less tricky descents

 

I never managed to catch up with T as my own steam ran out at around 40 km. I’d scrambled and clawed up Haohanpo for about half an hour, then concentrated hard navigating a long and tricky descent. I basically walked the remaining 7 km to the finish line. The finish line never felt so far away in my life. I was famished but couldn’t stomach any food. My hands were swollen from water retention and yet I was still thirsty but there was nothing left in my bladder.

I’m happy to say I completed my first 50-km ultra in 11:32:16. It took me quite a bit longer than I’d anticipated and nothing I was worried about actually happened. But considering the circumstances, I was surprised I even managed to finish the race. An experienced ultra runner (who finished in 7:48) advised me to take the race in chunks of 10 km and not stress about pace. It was her advice that kept playing in my mind when I felt like I couldn’t go on. It reminded me to never underestimate the power our words have on others.

For the first time after I started doing races, I actually swore I’m not doing another ultra for the rest of the year, and have not registered for another ultra to date. Memories of the pain and discomfort of the North Face trail challenge remained with me for two weeks until I fell off my bike on a descent and acquired fresh scrapes, bumps and bruises. That’s fodder for my next post.

 

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it’s scenery like this that keeps me running on the trails

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

exercising in the smog

 

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Beijing took our breath away (taken 1 Jan 2017)

Spending any part of winter in Beijing means dealing with varying degrees of smog and pollution. This year, the Chinese government has decided to issue red alerts when heavy smog (AQI exceeding 200) is expected to last for two or more consecutive days, and advise children and seniors to stay indoors as much as possible, people to reduce outdoor activities. Schools are closed and the number of motor vehicles on the roads are restricted. In December alone, two red alerts were issued, each preceding five to six consecutive smog-filled days.

Needless to say, it’s pretty difficult to avoid discussions about the smog in Beijing whether in the real or virtual world (inside or outside of the Great Firewall of China). Old-timers and newcomers alike moan about breathing difficulties, feeling poorly/depressed and the need to wear a mask outdoors and turning on air purifiers for days on end.

The athletic community, on the other hand, obsess about the health benefits (or lack thereof) of exercising (indoors or out) when air quality is obnoxiously bad. Many early morning group rides in the warmer months have been preceded by conversations of personal limits when it comes to AQI levels, and aborted when the northern winds don’t arrive as per the weather forecast.

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The must-have Iphone app of every Beijing athlete: Wake Me Run Run

As you can see from the screen shot of the Wake Me Run Run app on my Iphone, my personal AQI upper limit is 150. I figured if I’m going to forsake two hours of sleep to exercise outside, I’d rather do it in decent quality air. I’ve cycled outside when the AQI hovered between 180 and 200 and found it hard to breathe even with a mask on. When the AQI exceeds 300 outside, I find it tough even running 5 km on the treadmill in the gym with the air purifiers turned on.

I’ve met athletes whose performance seem unaffected even when the AQI exceeds 200 and I’m truly envious of them. But we all know that the PM2.5 air particles we suck right into our lungs stick around for a long time, if not forever, with the potential to give us respiratory problems or even cancer in the future.

All hope is not lost (yet). There’s been quite a few studies conducted overseas about the benefits of exercising outside in polluted air. One of my tri mates (he came in second in his very competitive age group at last year’s Beijing International Triathlon) wrote a piece on this topic, listing his personal limits for exercising and citing a number of articles on these studies. The overall consensus seems to be that it’s better to do some exercise than not at all, but keep it to under an hour when the air quality is poor (150-300) and do nothing when the AQI is higher than 300.

On a positive note, we’ve been getting clean air for the most part since the second week of 2017 as temperatures drop to sub-zero. I’ve overcome my fear of the biting cold and run outside three times, relishing every minute. Now if I can get my hands on a balaclava mask, I might just muster up courage to cycle outside this weekend.

 

 

 

Post-recovery racing: Sanfo Colourful Beijing International Trail Marathon

I’d almost convinced myself that racing season is over for me after the Beijing International Marathon in September. My left leg gave me so much trouble, I’d limp through my pre-run warm-up. I eventually went to see a sports physio about it and he prescribed me exercises and a limit of only two runs a week. This gave me the perfect excuse not to train when I went back to Brisbane for holidays. For two weeks, I cycled with my aunt, uncle and cousins, went on a couple of slow 5-6 km runs and swam a little in the sea at Noosa Heads.

It was bliss.

After 6 months of training and obsessing about metrics, it was nice to just do sports for fun and with family, without having to worry about air quality and traffic congestion.

Alas, I had to return to Beijing to work in mid October. When I exited from Beijing airport around midnight, I saw the smog and tasted it in my mouth. I wished I was back in Australia right then and there. The smog (which enveloped Beijing for 10 days prior) hung around for the next 7 days, which meant I couldn’t work out outdoors. In a vain attempt to feel better and hopefully alleviate my depression, I set up my trainer and joined a gym so I’d at least be able to do some exercise. With winter coming and more central heating coming on, the forecast is more cold smoggy days in Beijing for the next 3 months. Not a prospect I’m looking forward to.

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All wrapped up while waiting for the race to start

Probably out of desperation to run outdoors and against my better judgement, I decided to do a 21-km trail race in the northeast hills of Beijing with some friends on the last Sunday of October. (There were also 42 km and 10 km options.) It’d be a great way to enjoy the autumn scenery without enduring the crowds at Fragrant Hills. My left leg was feeling stronger after resting for close to two months. I just had to make sure I don’t push myself too hard on the run.

After doing two trail runs making do with a cycling camel backpack, I decided to finally invest in a running hydration pack. To make sure I got one that fit me, I went to a shop to try on several before deciding on the Ultimate Direction Women’s vest. It was so comfortable and worked so well during the race, I wondered how I survived without it in the past.

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glorious autumn colours along the trail made the pain worthwhile

The 21-km and 42-km racers started together at 8:30 am. The first 9 km was along a flat concrete road while the next 12 km comprised of 5 hills with a total elevation of almost 600 m.

I was very careful to maintain my negative split for the first 9 km, conserving energy for the later part of the run. Looking at my metrics from the organiser’s app, I’m pleased to see that I’d executed my plan quite well. The climbing wasn’t necessarily easier but passing people on the uphill climbs was a confidence-boosting and satisfying experience.

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The trail was even more beautiful than what I’d seen in the advertisements, adding to my enjoyment of the race. Scaling an almost vertical part of the hills past CP2 was particularly tough past the 15-km. I had to hug the wall while gingerly inching my way up step by step. That was when I fully appreciated my brand new running hydration vest which sat snugly on my back.

I finished the race in 4:39:45 in 30th place among the women. I could’ve pushed myself and run a little faster, but I decided not to risk it. I still have to train for the Nagoya Women’s Marathon in March, and I’d like to do more and longer trail runs in the future.

My first full marathon – Beijing Marathon 17 September

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On the final 2 km.

Winning the lottery

I wasn’t planning on running a full marathon this year, so I haven’t been training specifically for it. I applied for a spot to run the Beijing Marathon without actually believing I’d get one, as it was one of the most popular events in China. The organisers upped the bar this year and only allowed runners who have completed certified full marathons in the last two years and half-marathons in the last 18 months to apply. I was vying one of 30,000 spots with over 60,000 applicants and I could only provide my half marathon result from February this year, so I had serious doubts I’d get a spot.

So imagine my surprise when I received confirmation that I’d won a spot to run the marathon in early August. Many of my local colleagues who loved running more than I did missed out.  I later found out foreign passport-holders were subject to a different quota than the locals (read: it’s easier to get a spot if you’re a foreigner).

I knew the Beijing International Triathlon (BIT) was exactly six days before the Beijing Marathon even before I applied, and there was no way I could devote as much time to training for the marathon as I’d like, as I was doing a 9-day cycling trip around Taiwan in late August. When I told my triathlete friends about this, they warned me about potentially getting injured doing two races almost back-to-back. So I wasn’t even sure if I was pleased about winning the lottery, let alone excited to be running my first full marathon.

Post-tri, pre-marathon

Completing BIT marked the last tri race of 2016 for me. I had so much fun racing with old and new friends, and was very happy to see many of them placed in their age groups. I came in 8th for my age group, having shaved 10 minutes off my run and 8 minutes off my total time, and was pleased with this little improvement I made from the last Olympic distance tri.

I only realised the next day when my inner left thigh felt stiff that I’d forgotten to stretch straight after the race. For the next six days, I foam-rolled, stretched and went on easy runs, testing out day by day if I was up to running 42 km. I’d swing from elation after completing a 14-km run to anxiety when my colleagues and friends noticed I walked with a slight limp. I still wasn’t sure if I was running even after I picked up my race pack.

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Pre-marathon gear check (promptly discovered I was missing sports bra and heart rate monitor)

Marathon day

I woke up bright and early on 17 September, having decided the night before I’d run the marathon for as long as my left leg allowed me to.

The good thing about doing a local race is that I could take the metro and be at the starting point in 20 minutes. There was an air of anticipation as I moved with the throng of other bib-wearing runners towards Tiananmen Square. This is the first time I was taking part in such a huge event, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. Even though I knew people who were also doing the marathon, it was impossible to find them in a sea of 30,000.

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At the starting point

In the general chaos, I managed to find my starting zone, heard the gun go off and began shuffling my feet with the moving crowd. As I’ve already decided  I’d start at a conservative pace, I was happy to follow the 4:30 pace, and speed up later if I felt up to it.

Unfortunately for me, the race didn’t go as I planned, nor did I enjoy it. Even though there were rubbish bins, the locals threw paper cups, sponges and plastic bottles everywhere, so I could only walk when I got to the aid stations, fearing I’d trip and fall.  At the 7-km mark, I saw a middle-aged man shout and throw a 1-litre water bottle at a volunteer for running out of paper cups, even while the volunteer was telling him there were more cups 200 m ahead. That incident left a bad taste in my mouth, and it was at that point I put in my headphones and began listening to podcasts in a vain attempt to alleviate my mood.

At the 27-km, I did trip and fall, scraping my right knee and hands. Some runners kindly helped me up and directed me to the medical aid station to get my wounds cleaned up. My left leg was beginning to feel weak at that point, and now my right knee and left hand were bleeding. Most importantly, I wasn’t having fun. I had every reason to quit and go home. The medical volunteer told me I could continue running but if I didn’t feel like continuing, there was a shuttle just around the corner. It felt like everything was conspiring to make me quit and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel tempted to do so. But before I realised, I said to the medical volunteer as I pushed myself up that I’d like to continue for a little while longer. With that, I hobbled/walked/jogged to join the throng of remaining runners.

As I put one foot in front of the other, I kept asking myself why I was doing this, especially when my legs got heavier and heavier. I reminded myself:

  • I’m no quitter, and I always finished what I set out to do, regardless of the end result.
  • If I didn’t finish this race, I’d be put off doing full marathons in the future.
  • I definitely didn’t want to run the Beijing Marathon again after such an unpleasant experience, so why not get it done and over with?

When I finally caught up with the 5:30 pacer, a surge of confidence welled up within me as I realised I could very well finish this race before closing time. I jogged/walked as fast as my legs could take me and crossed the finish line with a time of 5:28.

For days after the race, I nursed conflicting emotions about this whole experience. I was relieved to have completed my first full marathon, but not happy with my time and how things worked out. After talking to several of my friends who’d done marathons and triathlons, it became apparent I’d underestimated the difficulty of running a full marathon, especially so soon after completing the BIT.  I prayed for another chance to redeem myself and God has kindly blessed me with a spot to run next year’s Nagoya Women’s Marathon. Winter marathon training, here I come!

 

My first trail race – Beijing Xishan Cross-Country Running

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Our brief encounter with Jeff Galloway during the Beijing Cross-Country Running race in June

As part of my training for the Beijing International Triathlon, I signed up to do my first trail running race held at Beijing Xishan National Forest Park on the last Sunday of June. It was advertised as an introductory 21-km race for trail running virgins and Runners World‘s staff writer, Olympic 10K legend and the inventor of the Run-Walk-Run method, Jeff Galloway, would be there running with us. It sounded like the perfect way for me to get a taste of trail running. The only minus was, it was one week after the Beijing Sanfo Jinhai Lake Triathlon, and my third race in as many weekends in June. I figured I could always pull out if I was still knackered after the triathlon.

Then I made the unintentional mistake of mentioning this race to my friend, WD, who decided to do the trail run too. She wanted to use the race to motivate herself to restart running training after stopping for upwards of six months. I remembered telling her about elevation and the variety of running terrain, which were the reasons for the generous closing time of seven hours. But being a trail running virgin herself, she was confident about finishing the race by the closing time. As a result, I no longer had the option of not doing this trail run.

Race day turned out to be the hottest summer day in Beijing history, with a maximum temperature of 37 degrees Celsius. Still knackered from the tri, I rocked up reluctantly to Beijing Xishan National Forest Park with WD, pretty certain I was going to get my first DNF.

Things got off to a bad start. When we got to the park entrance about an hour before the start time, there was no race packet pick-up table to be seen.  Our race registration fee was meant to include park entry fee so many of us stood resolutely at the entrance waiting for the organisers to get us into the park, while the impatient ones coughed up the fee to get inside. Someone eventually came to get us into the park. Then the organisers couldn’t find WD’s race bib until 5 minutes before the race started. I began worrying how the rest of the day would pan out.

The runners started in two waves. I managed to go in the first and WD went in the second. I kept up with the middle of the pack, which turned out to be both a blessing and a curse. Due to the poorly marked trails, we all got lost 2 to 3 times over the course of the first 10 km, which meant retracing our steps and spending time finding our way. WD and I met up about 3 km into the run, as WD was catching her breath. I stopped to check up on her and she told me to go ahead and not wait for her, as she’ll need more time for the climb.

When I got to the 15-km mark, I received a call from WD saying she had lost her way as she couldn’t seem to find any trail markers and she couldn’t get through to the organiser’s emergency number. From her description, I worked out she was at the 8-9 km mark where multiple Tibetan prayer flags were strewn over almost every tree. I’d gotten lost with a group of runners at the exact same spot until some of them eventually found the well hidden trail marker. Knowing it was impossible for me to give her directions to get out of the area, I told her to stay where she was while I made my way to the next checkpoint or supply station and get help for her. Ten minutes after getting off the phone with WD, I climbed up the rest of the hill and saw the first aid volunteers. I told them about WD’s situation and stayed until they assured me the organiser was sending someone to go get WD.

By this time, I really believed I wasn’t going to finish the run by closing time since I still had 6 km to go and less than 45 minutes until closing time. I decided to finish what I started and do my best to complete the race anyway. It’s the journey that counts at the end of the day.

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Experiencing relief and joy when I crossed the finish line

It was with great relief and surprise when I crossed the finish line and found out I’d actually made it right on closing time (5:00:35 to be exact) and saw WD waiting for me there in one piece. It turned out the sweepers had removed the trail markers half an hour before she got to the spot where she called me. This made me so angry, I wrote a long complaint message on the race webpage, adding to a long string of complaints by other racers who were frustrated and pissed at the poor organisation of the race. To date, I still haven’t received a response from the organisers, who’s probably busy doing a bad job organising the next trail run.

When I downloaded my final result three days later,  I was pleasantly surprised to find out I came in 23rd among the women. This was a small race, with total registrations limited to 400. The exact number of participants and their genders were not published so there’s no way I’d ever know what my ranking actually meant. But this result gave me confidence to register for the next trail run — the Chongli 100 Ultra Sky Trail Challenge 30-km race.

To be continued….

My first Olympic distance tri – Beijing Sanfo International Triathlon

 

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All lined up, waiting for the race to start. The guys got white caps, gals pink and relays orange.

A week after my first Sprint distance tri, I did my first Olympic distance tri race at the very scenic Jinhai lake in the outskirts of Bejing. With lessons freshly learnt from doing the Wuxi tri, I threw myself into the preparations for the Sanfo tri, which I perceived to be harder not just from the perspective of distance, but also elevation of the ride and run courses.

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Unlike P, I wasn’t looking forward to this much elevation straight after swimming 1.5k.

On Friday evening, my tri girl friends and I drove up to the race venue straight after work to pick up our race bags and check out the race course. My hopes of cutting my swim-bike transition time were dashed when I saw the long transition area and the long flight of steps we had to climb straight after swimming 1500 m.

On Saturday morning, we woke up at 4 am to get ready (while grumbling about why we do this to ourselves) and got to the race venue at 5 am to set up our transition area. I was surprised to see nothing set up around quite a few of the bikes before the transition area closing time of 6 am. I later found out we’d get 5 minutes to go back to the transition area before the start of the race, and that’s when the others will be doing their set-up. I take my hat off to them.

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The organisers required all racers to wear orange buoys for ‘safety’ reasons.

After waiting for what seemed like ages, we were finally sent off in waves for the swim. All the men were sent off in age group waves, then all the women were sent off in one wave (there were only 55 of us in total) and then the relay guys went in. Compared to Wuxi, swimming in Jinhai Lake was a dream. The water was cool and clear, the swim course was a simple out-and-back, and there were practically no waves. I enjoyed the swim so much, I was a little sad when I got to the deck and was pulled out of the water.

I surprised myself by recovering from the swim within 30 seconds of getting out of the water, and jogged at a steady pace up  the steps (past others who could only manage to walk) and along the long transition path to where my bike was parked.

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Helmet – check. Sunnies -check. Shoes – check. Ready to ride.

The cycling route was a 20-km loop that we had to do twice over. It was fun riding up to friends, calling out their names and riding parts of the way with them. I found it even more amusing passing racers with TT bikes on slopes, who obviously thought just riding a fast bike will make up for minimal or no time spent in training. My assumptions were confirmed when I read fellow racers’ WeChat posts about their experience doing this triathlon. More on that later.

After completing my favourite parts of the race, it was time for the run, an activity I neither enjoyed nor looked forward to. For the first 3 km, I ran in the company of a rather loud, talkative American man who kept asking me questions on physics and biochemistry in between huffing and puffing up the slopes. After humouring him with my thoughtless answers, I told him I had to push ahead and did just that, thankful that I could focus all my energy on running.

Sanfo tri finish

The run was the hardest part for me not just because of the elevation but also the relentless heat. Kudos to the organisers who had drinks and cooling stations every 2 km. For such a short distance, I went through my own packet of coconut water, drank water and Pocari at every second station and took a cold sponge at every station I passed. I was thankful for volunteers who sprayed water on us along the way and the organisers who put out an ice bath at the finish line, especially after reading about a 37-year-old female relay runner who collapsed and later died from heatstroke about 50 meters from the finish line. Discussing this incident with my friends who did the race, it made me realise how fortunate I’ve been to have athlete friends who’s generously offered advice on how to prep and survive a triathlon in different weather conditions, and helped me the newbie enjoy the process of racing.

As an added bonus, I came in 8th in my tiny age group, smack bang in the middle of the pack. I’m happy with this result for my first Olympic distance race, but am motivated to work hard on improving my performance for the Beijing International Triathlon in September.

 

My first half marathon of 2016 – Guishui River Women Half Marathon

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Enjoying the view

After running my first trail half-marathon in Inner Mongolia last year, I’ve been looking forward to running another race for a while. I signed up for the Guishui River Women Half-Marathon while I was in Washington D.C. for work and feeling very sorry for myself that I’d missed out on the Beijing Run. I also needed motivation to work on my running in preparation for two triathlons (one Sprint and one Olympic distance) in June.

I was really looking forward to this race for a number of reasons. Since March this year, I’ve been training with a triathlon club in Beijing, learning new running techniques, and upping my running mileage, so I was keen to put it all to the test. After cycling in the mountains of Yanqing on many previous occasions, I wanted to experience what it’s like to run in a park situated at the foot of these mountains.

On race day, I woke up a little after 5 am and cycled over to the bus stop to take #919 express to the starting point of the race, Xiadu Park. After an hour and a half, I got off the bus and walked for 20 minutes, following the signs to the starting point. The park was awash in various shades of bright pink and other neon colours and there were queues in front of both the fixed and mobile female toilets. The race organisers had set aside a number of spots for male runners accompanying their partners on the race, and they were kept very busy taking pictures and minding bags before the race.

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What is it with Chinese runners and neon pink?

Planning

At 9 am sharp, the gunshot sounded, and we were off! I made a conscious effort to run at a slower pace than usual, heeding the advice of both my running coach and a colleague who’s an avid marathon runner. I had no intention of repeating my mistake last year by running too fast in the beginning and bonking at the 15-km mark, right when I needed to speed up. It took all of my self-control to maintain my pace and let the other participants overtake me. I kept reminding myself to run my own race and trust my training and strategy. I checked my heart rate almost religiously to make sure I wasn’t pushing myself too hard for the first half of the race.

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We were escorted on the race by members of the China Police Marathon Club (yes, they wore those hot pink heart balloons the whole way)

The almost completely flat course turned out to be as pretty and pleasant as I’d expected, with half of it along the river and the other half through the forest. I enjoyed the scenery so much I hardly paid attention to my heart rate or my pace for the first 10 km, as long as I was still breathing comfortably. My plan was to gradually pick up my speed from the 15-km mark and hopefully go as fast as I can for the last 4 km.

Hydration and fueling

As forecast, it was a very warm day with the highest temperature hitting 27 degrees Celsius. Instead of carrying my own water bottle (like I did for my first half marathon), I decided to drink as much water as I could stomach before checking in my water bottle with my bag, and rely on the water stations, the first being at the 5k mark and the latter stations about every 2 km afterwards. The race pamphlet indicated they would provide some beverage in addition to water from 7.5 km onwards, which I’d assumed would be a sports drink. To my dismay, it turned out to be Vitamin Water. I began worrying I might get cramps, and drank at every water station, whether or not I felt thirsty. Fortunately the leg cramps only came after I finished the race. I told myself never again will I run a race without my own bottle and electrolyte powder/tablets.

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Can’t do much about the ugly tan lines on my legs (from the Beijing Sportive)

After seeing Vitamin Water being served, I was relieved I’d made the last-minute decision to bring an energy gel (secured on my race belt) and an Oaty Slice (in the back pocket of my brand new Adidas running shorts) for the race. I’d had my breakfast of a homemade muesli bar and three peanut butter Rice Crispy treats on the bus ride up. Even though I didn’t feel hungry, I decided to heed my coach’s advice and took my energy gel after running for 45 minutes. The first fueling station was at the 10-km mark. The table was laden with trays of cut-up bananas, cucumbers and cherry tomatoes. Not a piece of energy bar or chocolate in sight. *Cue dismay* I took half a banana even though I wasn’t hungry or tired and continued running. As I passed the 15-km mark, I debated briefly whether or not I should take my Oaty Slice. I still felt full from all the liquids I drank but I knew better than to wait til I was hungry to eat something. I took a couple of bites of the Oaty Slice, shoved it into my back pocket and upped my pace, determined to hit my goal of finishing within 2:30.

Finishing well

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The very feminine looking finisher medal


Despite my best intentions, my legs seemed to have a mind of their own after running 15 km. I hunkered down, increased my speed gradually, and ran as fast as my legs would take me for the last 4 km.

After crossing the finish line and picking up my finisher medal, I checked my mobile phone. As I was checking my time on Strava, I received an sms from the race organisers, informing me my chip time was 2:26:38. I finished my second half-marathon 4 minutes within my goal! Yay!  I also achieved a 10k PR of 1:06:06. Later, I was pleasantly surprised when I saw on my certificate I was ranked #560 out of 2019 participants. Not bad for a newbie runner.

It felt good to see that my hard work and prep over the last 4 months had paid off. I felt especially grateful for my running coach’s training and advice on race strategy and fuelling.

Armed with this very positive experience, I feel ready for the next challenge — my first Sprint distance triathlon on 10 June.

 

 

My very first cycling race: Beijing Sportive 200 Liuhong Rd race

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One of the participants racing on his city bike

On Saturday 7 May, I took part in my very first cycling race, the Beijing Sportive 200 – Liuhong Road.  I wanted to do the last Sportive race in Pinggu last year but couldn’t get a spot. It turned out that Beijing Sportive races are super popular here and registration spots are gone within a day or two after registration opens. I only managed to sign up this year because Serk secured 30 spots for its members.

I took part in the short course race, which was 118 km with an elevation of 1000 m, with seven others from Serk. The other 20+ cyclists (including two women) from Serk did the long course, which was 186 km with an elevation of 2000 m, in three teams.

My Saturday started at 4:30 am when my alarm went off. I heated up my breakfast of oats, raisins and cashews, packed my bag, changed into my cycling gear and headed to Serk HQ. Bikes were loaded onto vans and we set off for the starting point of the race. Heeding my coaches’ advice, I ate my breakfast at 6 am in the van, two hours before the start of the race.

We arrived at the starting point at around 6:30 am. We then took turns pumping up our tyres, put on sunscreen, loaded our jerseys with energy bars, gels and other essentials, picked up our race numbers and chips and took pictures. We couldn’t have asked for a more glorious day for the race — sunny, blue, cloudless skies with a mild breeze.

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Serk teams getting ready for battle

The long route racers took off right on 7:15 am. S and I thought we had another hour before our race started so we went for a toilet break. On our way back, we saw a queue had formed behind the starting line. By the time we got to the queue, the race had already started. There was no gunshot, no announcement. All we saw was the dust left behind by the other cyclists who had gone before us. I helped S fix her phone to her handlebar so she could follow the course and fired up my Garmin Edge 510 before I started riding. This was to be the first of a number of annoyances I’d experience over the course of the race.

As my sinuses were still clogged up due to my allergy to willow catkins, I rode at a comfortable pace in the beginning, and didn’t stress about keeping up with S and the other riders. I kept my eye on my watch and made sure I ate at least half a muesli bar every 45 minutes or so, regardless if I was hungry. The uphill climb I dreaded turned out to be almost flat. Before I knew it, I’d reached the halfway mark. I was surprised at how quickly and easily I’d completed half the race. The organisers took a reading of my chip and handed me a banana, a bottle of water and three energy bars. I took the banana and the water but turned down the energy bars, as I didn’t recognise the brand and still had my own bars. After a quick chat with one of the Serk riders doing the short route, I went for a quick toilet break and got back on my bike to finish the race.

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Just one of many scenic spots I rode past on Saturday

Over the course of the race, I’d encountered fellow participants on MTBs and hybrids with baskets in the front or back of their bikes. I only worked out they were doing the Sportive when I saw their participant number stickers on their helmets. While I admired their spirits, I also found them a curious sight, especially as the racers on their super fancy roadbikes whizzed past them at double or triple their speed.

At about the 90-km mark, I witnessed the second thing that annoyed me at this race. A heavy-set cyclist, obviously unable to carry on, hired a local villager who took him and his bike on his motorised cart up the hill. As I rode past the tractor, I felt some sympathy for the cyclist, having had to get on a support van or some other vehicle in the past because I couldn’t carry on. I’d initially thought this guy had given up on finishing the race and was sitting in the tractor all the way to the end. Instead, to my horror and disgust, as I was huffing and puffing up the hill at around the 110-km mark, this guy got off the tractor and continued riding! I was so pissed, I was going to stop and take a picture of the guy just so I could show it to the organisers. That’s when I noticed none of the other cyclists seemed to care and I decided it was more important I finish my own race than to do the organisers’ job for them. Others who’s done the Sportive races in the past had told me stories of similar incidents, but it was quite another thing to actually see it with my own eyes.

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My first cycling race finisher medal

Before I knew it, I rode past the finish line. When I went to hand in my chip and get my time, I was handed a slip of paper with the name ‘Fred’ printed on it and told my time was 4:40. Thankfully, before I pointed out my name wasn’t Fred, the kid told me to write my actual name on the slip of paper and typed it into the computer. By this time, I’d seen enough and was pretty certain whatever time the organisers had me down as finishing the race was probably going to be wrong. When the official times came out on Monday, I was ‘allocated’ another participant number and my official time was 4:57. A few of the other cyclists had the same issues, and some didn’t even have an official record of their time. It’s a good thing almost all of us used either Strava or Garmin to record our rides.

Despite all my misgivings about the race, I’m still super pleased I did it and finished the race half an hour faster than I’d originally anticipated. At the end of the day, it’s about achieving my personal best and experiencing and learning new things in the process. I’d experienced the difference proper fueling at regular intervals made to my riding performance and learnt what my body was capable of even when I’m suffering from allergies and other minor ailments. S finished 50 minutes before me, proof that the extra two to three early-morning weekday 40-km rides with faster cyclists could really do wonders to improve one’s cycling performance. I can see myself sacrificing sleep in the coming weeks to join S on these rides, while training for my next race on 22 May — a half-marathon in the outskirts of Beijing.