Inside the World Champs..
..and reflections on race execution
Summary: ->
An amazing event, on incredible trails. The fitness was there for a good result, but bad decisions early on left me with a pretty disappointing result of 92nd. Hanging back at the start, getting caught in the queue of people who went out too fast and then not working hard to push past them all was my critical error. A lot of it walking behind queues of 20 or so people. I kept telling myself this was fine, just to be patient and I can start running my own pace soon. This took until 16k to actually happen, and by then I had flushed away 45-50minutes needlessly. On a course like that you can’t make up a lot of time, you can only run the pace you are able to. I felt strong, was flying up the hills, and was constantly passing people until the finish. You never want to end an event like this with lots more in the tank. I stood at the finish line thinking “damn, I would love a do-over”. You only got one chance to play your cards. I managed to throw my cards on the floor in those first 16k.
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In a bit more detail: →
Lots of extra bits & pieces to WMTRC compared to your local trail race. Technical meetings the day before. Team meetings and logistics. The entire country team must enter the call-room on event morning at the same time and have gear & kit checked including weighing everyone’s jackets on a scale. Good to see them taking all this very seriously, and later on actually enforcing penalties. Once through, there are toilets & a short lap where you can warm up. There were also rules of how you line up as teams. We arrived in plenty of time and no stress. The line up turned out to be a bit of a shitshow with lots of pushing, and officials being ignored 😂. I was happy to stand back and watch it happen, which I didn’t realise at the time was a big mistake, with most of the male & female field jostling ahead of me.
The first 1k was a sprint along supporter lined streets, to the first climb where the trail quickly narrows to tight single trail switchbacks.
I was way too nice to the 100 or so aggressive early runners along that road and first few wider switchbacks, and soon realised I was stuck behind a huge train of people. I was aware I was not running my own pace, and having to stop and walk whenever a minor obstacle came up ahead. When you are at an easy hiking pace & not breaking a sweat but the runners next to you are gasping for breath, you know you are in the wrong group 😂🤦. This continued for the entire first climb which never allowed much space to pass (8k and 1600m vert). The climb also gifted me with 9 angry wasp stings (the same for many others - at least one lady having to drop out). The screams ahead warning of a wasp zone that you had to try and sprint through (again impeded by others moving at a slower pace!). Coming out of the treeline, scrambling up some rocks and the final climb to summit La Moleta at 2572m in the early morning light was awesome. Such a spectacular place to be. We immediately started descending on loose rocky jagged limestone, down a single track mountain pass and around a basin. Again, most of the this next 8k of descent was too narrow to comfortably pass. I seemed to be stuck in the top 30 women and my shouts of “on your left” or “can I pass please” were ignored. So much aggressive elbowing and unnecessary overtaking or blocking, as well as several falls from those making bad decisions. I got knocked by a Spanish lady coming from off course on my right as I was leaping between rocks and took a forward tumble onto sharp loose rocks, bruising my ribs, cutting my left side, and re-breaking my already bent dodgy finger. Getting back up and dusting myself off, I remember thinking “well, this isn’t going great 😅”
Finally I reached the 16km crewed aid station, restocked my gels from the awesome team NZ whilst they tried to stop me to dress my bleeding arm & hip, and then began the next long climb (900 metres over 6k). From then on I could thankfully finally run freely. Here on out it was a grand day. Being able to run your own pace, control your efforts, and have space to move felt so freeing after the contrast of those first 16k, and more like what I came here to do! I was passing people for the rest of the race and felt great (other than the pain from the many stings & the fall). Three more big ascents and descents to go. I was definitely going the fastest around on any climbs and descending well (though always impressed by the daredevil descending of many of the euro athletes). So many moments looking around in awe at the stunning course. Great technical challenging mixed terrain, huge support throughout, well marked, perfect conditions, pure running happiness. It felt like a mix of running in the Dolomites, Southern Alps & Norway. The final 7k is a long 900m descent via constant switchbacks, with many obstacles, loose rocks and sharp drop offs. A long way to descend back to Canfranc station. The main trick being to take the bend fluidly and then immediately accelerate back to speed. Again, still passing people, with a few who’d saved something for the end working hard to pass me. This felt like the last descent from la Flagere at OCC. Only this time, my legs felt way too good for the final stages of a race.
Post race analysis, looks like I lost 45-50mins in that first 16k from my planned race time, and then kept exactly on my planned race times for the remainder. In the end, you can’t make up time. Too little too late. I do feel pretty stupid for doing this, and my naivety at how it would play out early on. The guilt at letting my kiwi team down, and not providing a stronger performance for the team points. In retrospect, should some of the kiwi men have worked together on that first climb and descent to pull each other along through the chaos? Again, my own fault for not doing this. It is a horrible sensation arriving at the end aware I didn’t get the best out of myself. I love the sensation knowing that I’m absolutely spent and have played a race well. This was not it.
Mixed feelings afterwards, of having a great run in a spectacular place (I had a lot of fun out on course and will have great memories), but feeling terrible for wasting the opportunity for a better result for myself and the team. You only get one chance to play your cards. I played mine poorly. Retrospect can be a painful thing: I should have been more aggressive at the startline and sprinted for those narrow trails to get a good position, I should have fought my own up those switchbacks, I should have taken less shit from the aggressive front of the female field, I should not have been an overly polite kiwi, I shouldn’t have fallen, I shouldn’t have went into it too chilled and thought It would space itself out.
Looking at the positives: the fitness was there. I’ve been off my best fitness recently and had some bad races for the first time in my running career this year. I’ve built back over the past 12 months to a place I am proud to be again. The last 30k of this race was spot on and would have got me around the top 20 if I hadn’t messed the first 16k up (though who knows how it would have played out). Fuelling was good, stomach was great, legs never tired or cramped, it felt like I could keep powering up mountains strong. However, as all athletes know: you can be the fittest in training, but it does not matter if you mess up on the day.
I’m aware I should be more aggressive in races like this and put my needs first, but it is hard when everyone there is the top of their country/world and racing in a world championship event. Everyone is doing the same. Trail running is generally super friendly and kind. It’s not until you do a world champs or UTMB finals, that you can experience the cut-throat nature of the sport (especially if you position yourself poorly like me). Those out there that are people-pleasers know that this trait is often to your own detriment, in life and as it turns out, racing.
I had an excellent time nonetheless and felt so proud to represent the country I love, by doing the sport I love, in an incredible place. Running that course on a perfect conditions day, with the support I received, was the stuff of dreams. Team NZ was fantastic, with the crewed aid stations perfectly smooth & easy. There was also brilliant kiwi support throughout the course!
So stoked to see the other team NZ athletes/legends representing and absolutely smashing it out there in all the mountain and trail races.
The world champs atmosphere was a pretty special experience, with huge support on course for all the teams, epic finish line, excellent livestreams, and media. It felt more competitive than UTMB OCC, with the best from every country showing up. Brilliant to see the growth of the sport. WMTRC felt like the pinnacle for trail and mountain runners, with all the legitimacy, organisation, doping control, challenging courses, and atmosphere you’d hope for and expect. It felt like trail running had made it to the mainstream! 😂
The following day, legs feel way too good. The ribs hurt to breath in fully, I can’t lift my left shoulder, the wounds are dressed and the elbow gash glued shut, the broken finger is in a splint, I am taking many antihistamines for the massive splotches around each sting (the ones on my head the worst, feeling like my head is a balloon).
I’m a big believer in positive/growth mindset. Whilst I would love to have a do-over, all I can do is find my peace in what happened, take the lessons learnt on board and become better & stronger for the future.
Kia kaha, and my utmost thanks to all those who supported/watched/read/messaged me. I shed a few tears after the finish in big part due to this backing. I’ll be competing and playing my cards again soon enough …