As I write this, I’m back in Melbourne instead of continuing on from Potch to the European indoor competition circuit. My Achilles injury hasn’t progressed as rapidly as hoped, so I’ve put racing plans on hold. The primary aim now is to qualify for the World Athletics Championships in Japan, being held in September, a mind-boggling seven months away. I’m actually looking forward to building a bigger base of fitness before tackling the long outdoors season. How does that sound? Mature and inspiring enough? There was a bleak and deranged first draft of this opening update that won’t be shared publicly.
Track of the week: NWU Synthetic Track
The main meal: let’s talk about Potch’s synthetic track connected to the university.
My first session here was running in torrential rain with the inside lanes flooded. This was unpleasant but the photos were cool.
Shade and protection is a big deal in this climate, which serves up harsh sun and flash storms. Like many tracks, the shelter offerings at NWU are dinky and makeshift: some interesting club rooms with thatched roofs, trailers filled with I-don’t-know-what, and vacant spaces beneath the stadium seating.
The track is a universal frame or symbol, neutral and mathematically perfect, so it felt surreal when a monkey popped up. It was like a koala had walked into our office building. The flora and fauna around the track suddenly places the track in the world.
Also, there was a hot dog man.
This track might have the best collection of random stuff that I’ve seen so far on my travels. And with many camps to come in the future, I’ll inevitably form a bond with this track through the brutal training I’ll be doing on it.
Sketch of … the sponginess/baseline wellbeing matrix
Being on camp with dozens of athletes reminded me of a matrix I came up with in Budapest during the 2023 World Athletics Championships. The matrix captured my feelings about interpersonal relationships and helped me understand energy dynamics in sports settings, while also creating a new and fun way to judge people.
The competition space is emotionally extreme for me. I’m nervous then happy or sad about my own performance, then happy or sad or nervous for everyone else too.
In my matrix, your susceptibility to the feelings of others is called the “sponginess” factor. This is different from empathy because it’s about whether you have a choice to absorb those feelings or not. For example, if your teammate runs poorly and brings weird vibes to the dinner table, and now you also feel like shit even though you’re racing tomorrow, you probably have a sponginess factor of 1.5 or 2. If nothing affects you, even when it probably should, that’s a -2.
“Baseline wellbeing” is a clunky term for where you fall on a spectrum from naturally happy and positive to a certain melancholy to an outright sad sack. You could also call it something like “personality” or “resilience” or “mental health”. I think you get the idea.
Someone in the Goldilocks zone is generally a great time. Like my fellow 800m runner Adelle Tracey, who is so genuinely radiant and unflappable that she actually does skincare modelling on the side. The wet blanket zone has the people who can make your life hell if you’re a spongy person (like me). A person there is easily flapped, doesn’t seem to care how you feel about it, and can’t be easily placated. My mum sometimes entered this zone back when I was a teenager and she had menopause and a divorce to deal with at the same time (she’s great now).
I’m in the top left quadrant because I’m obviously mentally ill but also tender like a fig. I need to be protective of my energy when I’m in big groups, but hopefully these camps are inoculating me from the pressure-cooker team environment at major championships. One day I hope to enter the Goldilocks zone and join the likes of my infuriatingly trauma-resistant partner. I just have to keep working on that serotonin regulation (watch this space).
Bye,
Trina xx