Is it meant to be comforting? When people say “oh that’s completely normal”, is that meant to make me feel good or ok about the shitty thing I’m feeling or going through?

Why do they say that? It’s not remotely helpful.

Yes I know that for me it’s normal to gain an entire kg when I eat Thai food (thanks MSG)

Yes I know that I feel insane anxiety leading up to a race

Yes I know that everything feels really expensive right now (should probably stop comfort spending on gear!)

While all these things may be “normal”, do we just have to accept them? Is that what they are saying? Stop being so dramatic, you’re not special, that’s “normal”?

With three weeks until my last Tarawera, the pre race nerves are well and truly in full force.

I’ve watched so many shoe reviews that YouTube has stopped offering me Taylor content and only feeds me running shoes.

I’ve started foam rolling (call the psych ward!) at night.

I’ve increased my “for immunity” supplements for extra fluorescent pee.

It’s a weird thing, the nerves and anxiety that present in the weeks leading up to a race. Apparently it has something to do with the additional time and energy you have as you start to taper down. But I’m not convinced, I think it’s just the sheer terror of doing something you haven’t done before and that you might epically fail at.

I recently read a post by Devon Yanko on her Substack as she described the lead up to a 100 mile race she was running as a training run for another big event.

As someone who had run and podiumed at an insane about of races, she still felt that pre race anxiety and it centered around the unknowns. For her, racing without a crew and racing tired.

For me, I guess it’s all a bit unknown. I’ve only made it to the start line once, I didn’t make it to the finish line.

Despite the fact that it’s been physical things that have taken me out, I’m more stressed about the mental things, being tough enough, finding solutions on the fly to all the problems that might pop up.

I’ve been relying on practicing as much as I can. Practicing running on tired legs and in the heat and humidity. I’ve practiced with the gear, with the fuelling.

Last week my long run was a basic rhythm run as my old coaches at SquadRun would call it. I focused on a long run with no reason to stop and walk because Tarawera is really runnable.

This week, I focused on climbing, I ran with the dogs for 6k on the flat, jumped in the car and did four repeats of Flinders Peak stairs, focusing on hiking all the way up and bombing all the way down. Then I did another flat 5k later in the day. Was it a conventional way of logging 3 hrs 3 weeks before the race? No, do I care? Nope.

I wanted to push the legs on the climbing (mental weakness detected: I see rocks as chairs, perfect for a pity party!) and see what it’s like to run after.

It was humid and I felt like I was running in a soup.

But nothing makes you feel more hard core than laps of the peak.

It’s a regular spot for tourists and instagram fitspo influencers to hike the 350 odd stairs to the top and call it a day.

So regular non running folks are flabbergasted by someone doing repeats.

I had one little boy, maybe 7 years old, race me down. It wasn’t until I turned to go back up that he yelled back up the stairs “she’s coming back towards you” to his brother. “You’re fast”, he puffed. I chuckled and kept on going. I should have told him to google Killian.

I caught the eye of an older man too, hiking with a backpack and no doubt the original Stanley cup (a thermos with cups on top). “How many are you doing?” He said the first time I went passed, “maybe 4 or 5” I replied and kept chugging up.

When I saw him again, “are you training for something?”. “A 100 mile race in three weeks”, I yelled back. His eyes widened, yep I’m hardcore.

It’s funny how you normalise it, I’m sure people who do other “extreme” sports get the same thing.

I didn’t see him again after that.