A week has passed since Two Oceans 2015.
Seven days and each one of those bearing forth a little progress in the recovery department, both physically and mentally. My fourth consecutive participation (six if you include my "crash-and-burns" of the late 1990s) in the thirty five mile adventure was no easier than any of the others, my “trashed” legs last Sunday testimony to that. The cumulative effects of hard asphalt, unrelenting climbs and descents, and the sheer distance are hard on any athlete, whether gold medallist or back-marker. But then Two Oceans is not classified as an ultra-marathon for nothing.
You could say that I wear two hats when it comes to my thoughts of long-distance events of this magnitude. Ironman events, week-long mountain bike races or ultra-marathons, I am conflicted as to the sanity and health risks that such endeavours imply. That said, I revel in the challenge, adventure and the sheer joy of the process of getting ready for such undertakings. A sort of hesitant sage meets buccaneer I guess, with no small amount of existentialist in there! Speaking of which, let's take a closer look at the origins these three alter egos:
Hesitant sage
My work in the realm of sports therapy and wellness has afforded me the greatest of educations. Observing and working with athletes of all levels has been a great experience, but at times also a stark and raw view at the pitfalls of pushing too hard, too long and for reasons impure.
I don't want to be like that I have often thought to myself whilst kneading the legs of an overextended, cooked and thrashed Type-A athlete.
Buccaneer
I am a wanderer at heart. Most likely inherited from my grandmother, this thirst for adventure, wanderlust and literature has been with me for as long as I can remember. My father would often roll his eyes at my stating that “I'm going behind enemy lines” when leaving for a long run in the mountains.
A long, hilly, solitary “yomp” has always appealed to me, whether on foot or by bicycle and even by vehicular transport (read: road trip).
Existentialist
Perhaps the greatest thing about a long-distance endurance event is getting ready for it. Enjoying the process rather than focussing on the outcome has long been sound advice from many a coach to his or her charges.
I wouldn't trade my daily exercise regimen for any race result, that is for sure – it is just too much fun. This daily rhythm is far more than just exercise; it is an integral part of my life as a whole. A former professional cyclist once told me that he now rides his bike purely for enjoyment and meditation. Sure, he can show up everybody at local group rides but he doesn't need to. Each ride is as hard as he makes it, with his ritual coffee stop being time to pause and reflect amid the high pressure demands of his current profession as a directeur sportif.
With such conflicting traits as the above, it may be a surprise then to hear than I do aspire to certain athletic goals, or aspirations as I prefer to call them. One thing I have – and continue to – pursue is a silver medal performance at the Two Oceans. Sub-four hours. Anything less than two-hundred-and-forty minutes. I got closest last year, falling short my around eight minutes. There were those who assumed I was crushingly disappointed but surprised my jubilation of that result. I was really happy and felt that my 2014 performance was a good reflection of my preparation. My 10km races were good in the lead up and given my nagging retro-calcaneal bursitis, that even-paced effort made me proud.
This year was different. Whilst an increased workload and busier life no doubt contributed to less than desirable flow, perhaps more importantly was my lack of hunger for the 2015 journey. I remember chatting to current elite cyclist late last year who commented that, as soon as he noticed his results were plateauing, it was time to depart the paid-ranks and move on to something else. This statement resonated with me and there were times this year where I questioned my own desire for silver-glory. Maybe I was just getting a little stale, always a sign to pause and take action. Then there were other times where the pure joy of the activity of running overrode any thought perhaps scaling back a little.
Lining up in Newlands early on Easter Saturday morning was a pivotal moment. I realised that I was really happy to be there, fit, healthy and embarking on another great adventure. Being around throngs of other athletes definitely has a positive effect on me. Many travel far and wide to be on the start line of the Two Oceans whereas I'm privileged to have such an event in my backyard. One athlete commented how, upon hearing of the route change, soured his resolve for a peak performance; he was just there because he had entered. What kind of attitude is that, I asked myself? Another guy was there for a Comrades training run, excited at the prospect of the long day ahead with a distinct glint in his eye. Revelling in the fact that his home was around the corner and that he had had eight hours of sleep, his casual and positive demeanour reminded me of the joy of sport.
This is a not a race report – I find them crushingly mundane and uninteresting. Suffice to say that I had a solid outing on a challenging course. I could not have gone any faster or done anything else that would have got me to the finish line any quicker than the four-and-a-quarter hours I was out there. Seeing as I eschew watches or any other form of measuring device, I was alone with my thoughts and intuition. Whether observing the fluid running style of Eloi de Oliveira or marvelling at the poise of the elite female athletes, there were perhaps dozens of instances where my mind wandered or my eyes noticed something extraordinary. The first time I saw a clock was at the standard marathon mark, and I knew silver was out of the question. There are those who would give up at such a realisation but for me it is the opposite. A case of making the most of what you have and getting to the finish line as quickly as possible and, like last year, my performance was immensely satisfying. When you are honest with yourself and acknowledge your ability on the day, you cannot ask for anything more.
Ultras are great time for reflection, particularly afterwards. I always seem to learn something from such an experience, and this year was no different. My take home point in 2015 is that I need to back off a little and revitalize the body, mind and spirit. Seasons are there for a reason and sometimes we need a gentle reminder to embrace them. Funny thing is is that I can already feel the hunger coming back – talk about a fragile psyche! Good sense reigns though, and my daily exercise regimen, whilst in no danger of ceasing, will be on the more conservative side this winter. And I'm sticking to that.
Although I must admit that watching Caroline Wostmann storm to victory with a smile on her face has added even more fuel to fire.
Hurry slowly.
