Well well well, if it isn’t the end of the selection period and I haven’t qualified for the Tokyo World Championships by time or ranking points. I came out the other side of my last three races with a season’s best and a sense that things were finally heading in the right direction if only I had a little more time.
Surprisingly, I’m struggling to be disappointed in myself. This equanimity I think comes down to acknowledging the things that contributed to this outcome:
A year of constant injury & illness
Changing squads & training methods
Living in another country over summer
Changing my antidepressant medication
Having competed at the last five major championships, I’ve reached a point now where if I don’t think my body is in a position to make an impact on the final, then it doesn’t spark the same passion in me. I don’t need any more major championship experience. I need to get fitter and faster and close the gap between me and those at the top. Changing my set-up, doing the tough thing, getting pummelled by the best in the world: this year was the first of a multi-year experiment that excites me, and I had already accepted the risks that came with embarking on it.
Another part of this inner peace is not having the same critical eye on me this year. My group is huge and successful as a whole, so my performance isn’t as impactful to the happiness of the coaches.
It’s also been 18 months off Instagram. My brain has rewired. I used to find more pleasure in posting about my performances, and the online praise and attention that came with it, than I did actually experiencing them. Sometimes my last thoughts before I fell asleep the night before a race would be composing the caption I would include under my victory photo. Ridiculous. Naturally I have only made myself even more punchable by reminding people that only by renouncing this great evil can they reach the Kingdom of Heaven (less anxiety).
A piece of context I haven’t discussed yet is item 4 on the above list: my change in medication. This year I added an anti-anxiety drug to my regular anti-depressants. While my original meds have been a lovely chill stabilising presence in my life for several years, these new ones helped curb my vibrating mind and dissociation that came with racing. They really worked. However, the catch was that they made it harder for me to recover between sessions. I only realised this a few weeks ago and stopped the new meds and felt better immediately.
It took me a long time to figure this out because I had changed so much this year that it wasn’t clear what was affecting what. And the meds were doing their job, so why would I question them when so many other things could be making me tired? Brain meds are exhausting in this way: it takes roughly six months to understand their effectiveness, and finding the ones that work for you can come down to dumb luck. As a track athlete, I’m dealing with fine margins and time frames. Even small-percentage changes can mean no team, no final, or no career.
Let’s recap the races since my last newsletter.
My first race in Olsztyn, Poland, a cute and picturesque town, was a shambles. I was passive and didn’t commit to the race. I had my first cry of the season (I don’t know how I held out so long) on the phone to coach Jenny and vowed that in my next race I would “smack it”.
Leading up to my next race at the Diamond League in Silesia (also in Poland), I had my best training all year. I felt so grateful for this race opportunity set up by my group and agent that I had a panic dream the night before that I had slept in and missed the whole thing.
Standing on the start line, looking out at the packed crowd, I felt like a million bucks, like a PB was back on the table. I ran a great 700 metres. Then I hit the wall, dragging myself to the finish line. It was still my fastest time of the year, but I was undercooked in my post-meds body.
Two Australians took a sliver off my Australian record in the same race. I received some well-meaning messages of commiseration afterward but I simply didn’t care: I was just so happy to be out there again, hopeful of the future and loving of my team.
Nathan always recasts “failures” like this, or missing out on national selection, as more tasty plot points for my future memoir. It always astounds me how partners can simultaneously be your biggest supporter and biggest hater.
A favourite part of this meet was the pizazz of the race organisers. Silesia is a new Diamond League on the scene and there is a noticeable stink of desperation to prove themselves. Some initiatives were better than others. For example, as Keely crossed the finish line in a new World Lead, a wall of flames erupted alongside the track, blasting heat on the losers like me running in behind her. A final indignity.
There was also the traditionally dressed man and woman holding trays piled with Polish doughnuts, who offered them as we stepped off the track. Imagine that you’ve just run so hard you can barely stand, you’re so lactic you can feel bile rising up your throat and are probably suffering from mild heat stroke, and a cheerful Polish lady offers you a doughnut. I wanted to ask them “I’m sorry, but has a single athlete taken you up on this offer? Whose idea was this?”
My final 800m was at the Lausanne Diamond League in the B race. Everything was a contrast to the Silesia meet: it was raining, cold, with limited shelter and facilities. I was standing on the start line in the drizzling rain wrapped in a large white towel I’d brought with me from the hotel. The race itself was similar to the Gold-level meets early in the season in that it was over-stuffed, messy, and slow. I was able to pick off some people in the last 300 metres but the conditions were not conducive to fast times. It was my last shot at running the qualifying standard. Luck wasn’t on my side.
However, as discussed up top, I’ve had to reinvent myself and my expectations this year, so I was quietly happy to feel at home in my body again.
It was my fourth time racing at Stadion Śląski. It’s one of my favourites. I set my personal best (and then Australian record) here in 2021. Like London Stadium, it’s considered a “fast track” due to its Mondo surface and the wind shelter of the surrounding stands. And stadiums always feel faster to me because they’re a stage, providing a psychological boost.
The day before the race, athletes are permitted to familiarise themselves with the facilities. It feels like a dress rehearsal before the show with lighting, cameras, and all the other set dressings.
Outside the stadium we saw a man preparing remote control cars. These are used to collect the throwing implements during competition and return them to their owners.
The warm-up track was extremely well-equipped. It had a huge marquee tent on the in-field for treatment and recovery, shaded seating, snacks and drinks, ice, air-conditioned toilets, and a large viewing screen. The adjacent parkland has beautiful looping trails, a zoo, water park and theme park. A cable car connects the stadium to the centre of the park. You really can’t get much better than this as a track athlete.
Thank you all for your patience with my erratic publishing schedule. I fly back to Melbourne in a few days after a pacing job at the Diamond League Final in Zurich. In my next issue, I’ll give a season wrap-up, and then we can look forward to deeper design discussion, sketches, and more regular issues.
xoxo Trina
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