This morning I was moving along a winding trail on Mt Wellington, my office for the morning. I found myself reflecting on a coaching consultation I had hosted yesterday with a mother in her mid-50s. For the purpose of this conversation I will refer to her as Sarah.

Four years ago, Sarah’s two children had flown-the-nest and now her inner-city townhouse where she lived with her husband felt gapingly large. She now enjoys intermittent exercising and travel adventures with her husband, and finds strong purpose in her teaching work in women’s health issues. Trained in Swedish and Thai massage, and with a strong self-compassion routine, in our consult she still sat across the table from me and said, ‘I know I should try to get fitter, loose some of this…’, she slaps her thighs and next her upper arms, strong and quite lean from her swimming workouts, ‘I practice self-compassion and gratitude. But I am just not as dedicated to exercise & wellbeing as someone like you.’

I have come to learn that whenever someone says, ‘I am…’, this is an identity that they have attached themselves too. In a positive application of this, Sarah had exclaimed early in our conversation, ‘I love my role as a teacher. I am good at teaching.’ So, here she holds the identity, values and beliefs of ‘Teacher’, and this enables her to action her teaching with excellence. 

However, there are many instances where the identities we hold are unhelpful. For instances, Sarah slapping her thighs and biceps suggested that she has formed the identity of ‘lazy’. This means that somewhere, deep down, she believes she is fat and lazy, and then as a byproduct of this, she actually values her laziness and weight. Identifying as lazy and overweight has become an excuse to not action fitness, to avoid better health routines & to not set her alarm earlier so she can climb out of bed to pull on her bathers. In many ways, it is an identity that she is hiding behind. 

I know this may sound extreme – that Sarah could actually value her fatness and laziness? Yes, I truly believe this and Sarah is not alone. We all hold multiple identities, some helpful and some hindering. If we hold onto our unhelpful identities, never challenging ourselves to break free from them, we will only be reinforcing the unhelpful actions associated with them. 

Highlighting this to Sarah was the first step in moving her forward. I then asked her, ‘If you had all the time, money and support in the world, how do you see your optimal life?’ Sarah paused for a while, closed her eyes, and let out a big sigh. 

‘I don’t know how to not be a mother anymore. When I was a mother I had routines and I also wanted to be a great role model for my children. I found it easier to take myself swimming earlier in the morning, to make us all a healthy lunch, and spend more time outdoors with the kids in the evening. But now that they have grown up and left home, I know that I am no longer a mother and I am now lazy. I guess if I had all the time, money and support in the world I would just like to be more self-compassionate and maybe to even try some trail running so I can join my friends when they go out on the weekends? I want to feel like I have more invigoration for my work again, and to travel more too. My husband is so supportive and gives me all the support I need, so I feel like I am letting him down the longer I feel like this.’

In response to Sarah’s comments, I asked, ‘Do you still see and talk to your children?’

‘Oh yes,’ she replied and her eyes begun to sparkle, ‘At least twice a week we chat on the phone to share news and what we have been up to. And next week we are off to London to visit Lizzie.’ 

‘Why do you call Lizzie and what made you want to visit her in London?’

Sarah looked back at me perplexed. ‘Because I want to keep an eye on her, I miss her, love her and want to make sure she doesn’t need me. London is such a long way…’

Sarah then paused, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath in, and opened then again to look me directly in the eyes. ‘I am still a mother, aren’t I?’

I didn’t need to reply. A mother will always be a mother. Just because Sarah’s children have grown up doesn’t mean that she needs to lose this identity nor the positive actions that she adopted as a mother. She can still support them and also be a positive role model through exercise, nutrition and her self-compassion, sharing these when she speaks to them on the phone or meets up with them on her holidays.. 

Sarah later left the room with a twinkle in her eye, a spring in her step, and goal to join her friends at a trail running event in 3-months’ time.

In conclusion, it is important to begin to hear those inner voices that say to you, ‘I am…’. Try to understand the identities that are helpful, as well as the ones that hinder. Begin to identify with old identities that no longer serve you, but to also rekindle those that need to remain, that can hold you strong, such as Sarah’s identity of 'A Mother'. Finally, ponder on the difference between self-compassion and self-acceptance. Too frequently I work with clients who take baths, change their diets, have massages and exercise – all in the name of self-compassion. But here I challenge us all, ‘is this for self-compassion, or to make me feel better about myself, to mask an unhelpful identity that still grasps me?’ I truly believe that there is not just a difference between self-compassion, but also a sequential order at play. Self-acceptance must proceed self-compassion. In Sarah’s case, self-compassion was a mask hiding a woman who was not yet able to accept were she was at and where she truly desired to be. 

So, what identities are you holding onto? What need to be rekindled and which can be gently waved goodbye?

I have found more and more frequently that many well-documented training theories are hard to implement with adults without triggering an overtraining complex, leading to unnecessary injury niggles, sick- ness, suppressed mood and more. ​

​This piece is for all the individuals out there who can feel like a zebra - like your stripes are telling you apart from the crowd. It is also for all the individuals who feel a pull to shed their old identities and begin again, and to those who aren't quite sure where to start. It is packed with honesty in the knowledge that you will not judge me for the humanness of these experiences.

A zebra. That is what I kept likening myself to as I wandered in and out of various presentations at the Australian Institute of Company Directors Annual Governance Summit. What a mouthful! As I sat there, surrounded by 1500 other delegates, each in their grey suits, with the occasional blue pop on a male, or a fling of red or white from the women, I honestly felt my stripes yelling to the room. I don’t own a suit jacket, or corporate skirt, or black shiny heels. In fact, I don’t own anything that would help me fit into that room. Add to this my short spicy white pixie cut, youthful looks, my white slacks and turtleneck jumper, yes, I really was the zebra here. Many individuals bravely stated, ‘You don’t look old enough to have done all that!’ when I shared dribs and drabs of my story and how I came to be attending the conference. So, for me, the two-day summit and AICD councillor’s meeting prior to it, has not only provided insights into the principles of good governance in Australia, but also raised one question, should I be trying harder to fit in?
 
My mentor & transformational coach, Alice, has always said that you can find all the answers to our questions in nature. When I sat back to deliberate on my question, this is precisely what I have subconsciously done. Why was it that I picked the zebra as my way to describe my discomfort in this environment? And if I was the zebra, what did this make everyone else? Assume for a moment that they were horses, gorgeous stallions and wild brumbies. Yes, let’s consider this scenario for a second. If you were to put a zebra in the midst of these horses, to give it the same food source, water, love and attention, it will remain a zebra. The horses may try to teach it to trot, canter and follow their lead, but it will still have the traits and qualities of a wild Africa animal, one with white stripes and black. It can act like a horse, but it will undeniably still be a zebra. We could trim its main, shod it, and make it look more ‘horse-like’, but it will retain its stripes… it will still be the zebra. 
 
So is that the answer here? If I know that I am a zebra, and this is a room full of horses, each of various breeds and beauties, I cannot change the essence of who I am by changing what I wear and trying to fit in. No, I don’t believe that I can. I must be proud of those traits and qualities that make me different. Proud of my age, my experiences, skills & my story. In truth, I must be proud of my identities, formed from my values, beliefs, actions and environment. If there are horses in that room who see me and accept me for these stripes, then I am willing to canter alongside them and enjoy the rush of the wind in my face and the new lessons I learn from them as we roam the lessons of great governance. However, to those who turn away, confused by the wild creature before them, then I respect them too. Zebras are not for everyone.
 
The second part to this story is that whilst happily a zebra for now, I too am still trying to understand my complete identity. Even a year ago if someone had asked me, ‘How do you see yourself?’ I would have responded with, ‘As an athlete and a businesswoman, as well as a daughter, a sister, a partner’. And if pressed, I might add, ‘World Champion and young businesswoman’.  However, in truth, I am coming to realise that these identities are changing and I am still wrestling and trying to reconcile with this. This begs another question for me - What do you do with a beloved, love-worn jacket that you now know you need to retire? Should you keep on wearing it because it seems a waste to cast it aside, especially given how much you have trusted & loved it for protecting you from the elements? Now dismiss it after it has shared many wilder journeys with you? Or should you take it off, hang it in the closet, or pass it forward to someone who needs it more than you, someone who can grow into it? Just like this well-loved jacket, taking off an old identity can be terrifying. You can suddenly feel naked, feel the loss of its warmth and protection, forcing you to wrap your arms tighter around you. As you do, you will undoubtedly wonder, ‘How on earth you I find another jacket that is as good a fit as that one?’ Now imagine that you gifted your jacket to the local Vinnies shop, and a few weeks later, as you pop into the supermarket and feel the chill of the refrigeration section hit you, you suddenly see someone else wearing your jacket. This vision brings on a sudden pang of jealousy, a sudden desire to tug it back on and revel in its comfort. Yet deep down, you know this jacket no longer belongs to you. Now you feel sadness as you try to fill your basket with your groceries. You look down at the basket, and the items that you always enjoyed now no longer seem as appealing. For a short moment, you feel cold, alone and a little saddened without your jacket. Your old identity. 
 
For me, this is exactly what has been happening, With the love and support of Alice, we have torn down barrier after barrier, peeling off the old jacket to help me uncover what my new identities are, and how my values feed into these. Most of these barriers come in the form of unresolved emotional traumas, and an incongruence with my actions, emotions, thoughts and identities. Unresolved anger, grief and sadness were hidden in the depths of each and every one of my cells. These stemmed from incidences that I had forgotten, dismissed or thought I had already overcome. Often the blocked emotions were not to do with an incident itself, but how I responded to the situation, or how someone close to me responded. It was about the choices that I made, or didn’t make in those moments, with the lessons not yet realised, the growth not yet experienced. So, as the barriers were torn down and reflected upon, at first I grieved, ached from the bruises of experiencing once again, and then rapidly felt myself coming back together, stronger than ever with clarity fuelling the flames of new desires and enhanced purpose.
 
For as long as I can remember I have lived by the identities of athlete, daughter, sister, protecter, hard-worker, talented, achiever, Tasmanian. Proudly so. Fiercely so. They have served me well, and taken me to the heights of sport and business accolades. Yet, despite the successes, lumps, bumps and dips in this road, somewhere along the way these identities had become shaken up - my environment had changed, my beliefs, actions and relationships too. In fact, my values had shifted and until working with Alice and trusting her to take me down deep into my subconscious, I didn’t release just how far I had moved beyond these old identities and how some of them have never actually served me. I had accepted them as a given and never thought to pause and ask the simple question, ‘Is this jacket for me?’
 
Sitting in the huge theatre in Sydney, the distant voices of the presenters floating towards me, I couldn’t help but find my mind drifting. Why? Because I have suddenly realised that there is no part of my identity that is a businesswoman. No, not at all. Despite having won two business awards, business is not a part of my identity… not at all. However, what is, is learning about the people who interact with the business. What motivates them, their dreams, aspirations and how they lead themselves there, or lead themselves away for that matter. It is the why and the how that fascinates me in business, not the what or the outcomes. During the conversations that erupted during the tea and lunch breaks at the conference, I found that my brain couldn’t attach to the stories that people were sharing with me unless we reached the human element at the bottom of their story - once again, their why and how, not their what - the accolades, successes & business outcomes. Similarly, earlier that morning, I had taken myself off to the Ian Thorpe Aquatic Centre to spin my arms and feel my body move silently through the quiet waters of an awakening swimming pool. As I began to ease into the movements, I couldn’t help but feel that athlete is no longer a part of my identity either. I no longer feel like I am competing against myself or others, that I am no longer driven by accolades or results. No. Instead, I feel like with every stroke that I take I am eager to see if I can make it my best stroke, to feel the water catch more firmly on my hand, to feel myself rise out of the water and how the resulting glide can feel more effortless. I can recognise now that this is not the mind of the athlete, but rather the mind of a learner, an explorer… an artist. 
 
With guidance from Alice, I realise too that I now need to move beyond my identity of ‘young Hanny’ - the daughter, sister, and timid, young girl growing up in the big, wide world. At thirty-three years of age it is finally time to embrace my womanhood. I want to now look in the mirror and embrace the curvaceous breasts that greet me, the slight curve on my hips and the skin maturing from exposure to life, sunshine and the elements. I want to move beyond purely the practical underwear and sometimes pull on my big woman panties, the ones that make me feel a little more sensual and feminine. At night I want to go to bed and enjoy the feeling of sleeping in sleepwear that makes me feel beautiful and capable of mature intimacy with my husband. I want to see his eyes light up with ‘that look’, to know that whilst our relationship is absolutely 100% grounded in friendship and indefinite love & respect for one another, that there will always be a romance alive there too. I want to walk into a room and hold my head up high, rather than letting my gaze drift to the shoes of the adults. Then to sit across the table from them and feel empowered to share my thoughts. I also want to sit across the table from my brother and speak as equals, and to take the advice and wisdom that he shares with me as adult-to-adult, rather than simply as his little sister. Further to this, I want to visit my mother as Hanny, and yes, whilst still her daughter, I also want to know in my heart that I am an adult creating my own life and with a plethora of choices in front of me. More importantly, I want to share a meal with her knowing that she feels the same freedom and ability to make choices too. When I speak to my father on the phone I want to know that I can open myself up to vulnerability, sharing the joys, highs and lows of our lives lived, sometimes together but more frequently apart. And finally, to know that within each of my special relationships there is no judgement.
 
Therefore, in the recent months I have learnt that identities evolve. When it becomes apparent that we need to, we must peel off the layers - the athlete, the daughter, the sister, the youth, the businesswoman - and try on some new ones. The laciness of womanhood. The stillness of the writer. The creativity of the explorer. The colours of the artist. The compassion of the healer. The voice of the coach. From this place of strength & understanding, my ‘be wilder’ state, can come the exploration of values, beliefs and actions. 
 
I am sure that many of the things I have discussed here today will change by tomorrow. However, this is absolutely okay and please do not judge me if I do profoundly state tomorrow that I am once again an athlete! Change and evolution, confusion and then clarity, this is all a part of the human experience.  We must wrestle with the known and the unknown, with the feelings & experiences that we can put words to, and those that we cannot yet. We must be willing to be brave in our vulnerabilities so that we can turn these into our vitalities. 
​ 
Like Alice has done for me, today I write to give you the permission to also turn inwards and identify the identities that you are wearing, those that serve you, and those that no longer do. For if we all go on this journey, not only will it be less intimidating and lonely, but we will be helping to make the world a better place. The world needs more zebras. But it also needs more lions, buffalo, hippos and tigers. It needs more cats, dogs, ponies and goats. It needs more plants, grasses, and towering trees. It needs more diversity and individuals living a conscious life.

When you live in a cold environment, acclimatising for an event in hot conditions is incredibly difficult. In 2005 I was heading to the peak of Japan's summer for the World Orienteering Titles. It was expected to be >37 degrees celcius with humidity of over 90%. As I began preparing for the races, snow lay in a thin blanket across the lumpy paddocks of our family's farm in Tasmania.  Without too much experience or guidance, I dusted off my bike, set it up on a friend's spin trainer by the hearth, stoked up the fire, shut all the doors, decked myself out in all my thermals & tracksuits, and began one incredibly uncomfortable 10-day streak of training.

Yes, if you do not have the luxury of arriving well in advance of your race, acclimitisation is pretty tough. Here are my tips:

• The most important thing is to really, really grasp your hydration. That is absolutely critical. If you need more guidance on hydration, revisit my blog on endurance hydration. Begin to understand how much fluid you are loosing under certain conditions.  If you need more guidance on this, revisit my Sweat Rate Test blog. You can also listen to my Nutrition & Hydration Podcast episode.
• Ensure that your base aerobic fitness is in top condition. Fitness will play a role in how well you adjust to the heat. If you need support in development this, review my Base Training Podcast episode or this blog, In the footsteps of our fathers: The importance of Base Training.
• Whilst it will not completely replicate the warmer race conditions, running in the middle of the day under sunshine will still help. Add a pair of leggings and a thermal top to increase the discomfort.
• Then consider how you can replicate some of your race conditions. Just like I did over 13 years ago in front of my wood fire, ask yourself, 'what resources do I have available to me?' For instance, you can start to do things like running in a plethora of layers, even in the hotter gym environment on a treadmill. Warning, this style of training is pretty uncomfortable and you need to keep up your hydration if you are going to do this! I wouldn’t recommend it all the time, but maybe picking a 10 day period about 2-3 weeks before the event. Furthermore, if you never run on a treadmill, be very careful as the running gait does change slightly. You may be better off outside even if it is a few degrees cooler.
• My final warning is, do not overly compromise on the quality of your training & recovery. You will need to factor in greater recovery durations as your recovery time will increase as the body is under greater stress during your exercise sessions. 

For Sports Nutrition that will assist, visit Find Your Feet's Nutrition & Hydration Collection.

​Preparation for our athletic dreams requires a harmony of focused recovery combined with enough strain to see gain.  Baby steps. 
 
However, in the face of injury we need to respond quickly. Baby steps don’t suffice. When injury strikes, there is no such thing as ‘meeting in the middle’. We either want to listen to our body or we don’t. We either want to get better or we won’t. We must acknowledge the weaknesses that led to the injury. We must take responsibility for the road back.
 
Whilst it is imperative to hear the wisdom of the gurus around us, at the end of the day we are the ones who knows what is at stake. We are the ones who knows what our body wants to say to us… We set the dream. We take the steps. We reap the rewards.

An interview with Find Your Feet Australia.

In 2013 you broke the women’s record by around 75mins that year and finished 4th overall. Describe the run that you had – was it more mental, physical, strategical or all of the above?
To be honest, this was a hard year for me. In the leadup to the event, and even during it I had this real knowing discomfort in my knee.  A month or so earlier I had been racing in China and tripped, knocking my knee on a rock. I found out weeks after the Overland event that I actually had a hairline fracture in my patellar.  So, I guess I explain this because I don’t think my best races come from physical. The UTA100km in 2017 was a classic example of this. In that circumstance, I was super physically prepared, but not there mentally or emotionally at all. It made it a very, very long day out.  In the 2013 Overland Track event I was just so eager to be at the event and running down the trail which transects my favourite regions of Tasmania. I had been living in Canberra for years and really missed this pristine landscape. It is where I feel most at home. Where I feel my love of mountains and the intimacy of all the natural elements combines with the rhythm of running.  So, toeing that start line I was filled with eagerness, albeit a little apprehension.  I had no strategical plan other than to run by the feel of my body, to monitor it carefully and listening to it, just as I was listening to the landscape and its own rhythms as the day unfolded. As it turned out, I ended up continuing to bump into Matt Cooper who was one of Australia’s top male ultra-runners at the time. He was having a tough day in the office but there was this quiet companionship and admiration at play. I didn’t ever run with him for long, but it was like a yo-yo, his coming and going as he found energy and then lost it again. I found that emotionally keeping an eye out for him and wanting to help him gave me strength too, and I ended up feeling on cloud nine all day.  I certainly didn’t know anywhere near as much as I know now, such as about nutrition, hydration, equipment and strategical racing. I just ran with heart, spirit and tingling toes. I am so stoked still with that result. It was just a wonderful, long day outside.
 
(NB. Hanny finished 4th overall that year in a time of 8hrs13mins. In the last three years, no woman has come within fifty-five minutes of this time.
 
How did you focus your preparations in the last week before the event?
In the week before the event I was conscious of not overloading my body nor mind. I was doing a lot of coaching at the time so that made it quite tricky. I was also living in Canberra where it was really hot. Therefore, I did a little more swimming, early morning gentle jogs, tried to focus on consuming more electrolytes and simple foods, and generally just enjoying the excited nervousness that comes before a race.  Sleep is critical and that should always be your number one priority pre-race. After travel, I like to also lie with my feet up a wall as it takes away a lot of my lethargy and is proven to help reduce cortisol levels.
 
What do you think is the optimal mindset for long distance races?
You need to be able to tune into your emotions, hear what they are saying, and then utilize this knowledge to your advantage.  The importance of this is to be able to stay strong but still be human. I find that when I am too ‘switched off’ to what I am feeling when I am out there, it leads to not enjoying myself. I become robotic and unable to appreciate why I am out there and what I am seeing. On the other hand, when I am too vulnerable and ruled by my emotions I can find it hard to stay strong and lean into the discomforts. So, it is a very fine balance. I personally work a huge amount on understanding ‘self’ and ‘my story’. I want to know what sits below the surface of me and to feel the vulnerability & strength that comes from this knowledge. I then find I am really able to tap into the adventures and missions that really are making my toes tingle… easily able to answer the question, ‘Why am I doing this?’  This is so important. Knowing you are out there for the right reasons will definitely give you the strength to lean into the discomforting moments, which are always prevalent when you are walking towards the edge!  The other thing that is important is to understand what your definition of success is. And be warned, in Tasmania, this cannot be about time or places, or otherwise the raw wildness of the landscape will chew you up and spit you back out again!
 
What is different about racing & ultra-running in Tasmania?
I know we always use the word, but Tassie is definitely wilder. The trails are more remote, with many points of no return.  The tracks are usually rougher too, with more roots, rocks, mud and sometimes, exposure.  Therefore, I think you have to approach running in Tasmania with a slightly different mindset.  You can’t easily say, ‘well, I’ll start and see how it goes’. You have to be far more prepared for that. To know that when you toe the start of a trail you are 100% ready for that. I think this is why I became one of those athletes who never raced half-baked. I always needed to be 100% confident in all my process – from my training leading into the event or mission, to my nutrition, recovery, equipment and psychology. I guess this is where Find Your Feet has grown from – a really willingness to highlight the importance of preparation and preparedness with our community of eager trail enthusiasts.

What final tips or tricks would you have for anyone preparing for this year’s Overland Track Ultra or another upcoming event?
I have come to learn that the half-way mark of an ultra-distance event is definitely not the half-way mark! I find that the game really begins sometime after the 2/3rds point of the event.  Therefore, I like to determine a point that for me heralds this ‘true ½ way mark’. In the Overland Track race, I had the half-way mark as when I reached the northern shores of Lake St Clair which comes at around 62km into the event. Even though I had run the event previously and really enjoyed this section, I knew that most participants mentally & physically struggle in this section. So I knew it was important to pace my race so that my energy tank was still more than ½ full for this remaining 20km of the race.

​​As a performance coach specializing in trail and ultra-distance running, I am frequently asked about the use of caffeine a supplement to performance.  With almost every sports nutrition brand providing caffeinated options, from gels to chews to beverages, I believe it is important to address the question – to caffeine or not to caffeine?  Sadly, as you will soon find out, whilst there are some good rules to abide by, everyone is different.  Using caffeine requires you to understand the science, your own body’s response to this common stimulant, and then to deliberately practice and observe its effects during exercise.
 
Caffeine is a stimulant
Let us begin with the most important concept. Caffeine is a stimulant.  It acts to give you a false sense of energy, helping to heighten alertness and enhance wakefulness.  In trail running, these effects can help someone to feel more responsive to the challenges of the trail, overcome fatigue (both physical and mental), and to also mask pain (more on this soon).  However, herein lies the caution.  If caffeine is a stimulant and can help someone to feel like a relative of Superman, then it is likely that this individual is working at a heightened level of physical and mental exertion.  Underlying this is still the same body requiring the same amount of energy, if not more, to maintain its level of performance.  If you are someone who uses caffeine, then it is highly likely that you are chewing into energy reserves faster than you would in a non-caffeinated state.  Unless you are ruthless about putting this energy back in whilst on your caffeine-high, then you can be digging your own energy hole that may be difficult, or near impossible, to return from.
 
Caffeine is a diuretic
The same concept holds true for the effect that caffeine has on our hydration.  As caffeine is a mild diuretic, it can give an athlete the sensation of needing to stop behind a tree, all the while thinking,‘great, I must be hydrated’.  If you are zinging along the trail on your caffeine high, it is also imperative to keep on top of your fluids, preferably using an electrolyte higher in sodium.
 
Caffeine has different effects on different people
I am a tea drinker and even a small influx of caffeine will hit me hard, so hard in fact that my mind begins to race and I begin to feel a little bit jittery.  My husband on the other hand loves a coffee, or two, or three.  Whilst I opt for the tea leaves, he will grind, filter and create an espresso with negligible effects on his physiology or psyche.  Out on the trail, the enormous difference of caffeine’s effects on our bodies continues to be evident.  For me, even a portion of a caffeinated gel is like putting a firecracker in a tin can.  The nearly instantaneous pulse of caffeine resonates throughout my body, causing me to feel zingy, jittery and uncomfortable.  However, for my husband, he will really, really notice the lack of caffeine in his system if we begin early in the morning or are running for extensively prolonged periods of time.  For example, if he skips his morning coffee, or those later in the day, the lack of caffeine leaves his normally caffeinated body feeling lethargic and stagnant. Utilising a caffeinated gel during these lower periods makes a lot of sense, albeit carefully ensuring that enough energy is also replaced to combat its stimulating effects.  This is imperative to avoid crashing and burning later. 
 
Caffeine and women
Fascinatingly, studies are now coming to light about the role of caffeine on a woman’s body, and how the effect varies depending on her hormonal status.  For example, information is coming to light to show that the metabolism of caffeine during the first two weeks of a woman’s cycle is similar to that of men, but then in the second two weeks women show higher peak levels following ingestion, meaning that the caffeine will stay in her body for longer.  This is also true for many women using certain forms of birth control.  I would recommend that if you are a woman and are sensitive to caffeine, begin to notice and document its effects on your body at different times of your menstrual cycle.  You may observe that your sensitivity to this stimulant may go up and down with the changes in your hormonal levels, thus requiring you to adapt your approach during exercise.
 
Caffeine and stress
Some athletes are highly susceptible to pre-race exercise stress or anxiety.  For these athletes, I would strongly recommend steering clear of caffeine prior-to, or in the early phases of a race as it has the potential to enhance the cortisol stress response.  Too much stress too early on can lead to burning more calories than desired, leading to a potential deficit later in the event.  
 
Caffeine for pain
Interestingly, one of the greatest benefits of caffeine during exercise is that is becomes a potent masker of pain.  That is, during exercise, it can have an effect of similar proportions to that of taking two Panadol tablets.  There have certainly been occasions when I have had to tap into this during the depths of a long, difficult ultra-distance run.  For example, on one such adventure I had a sudden, sharp onset of ITB syndrome with symptoms of jabbing pain in the front of my patellar. No amount of hobbling helped and deep down I knew that this compensation would only make the problem worse. Within 10 minutes of consuming a caffeinated gel, I had not just climbed out of this hobbling hole, but the pain had completely disappeared!  I believe that this was also due to my heightened ability to improve my motor patterning, once again tapping into the strength of my gluteal muscles that had become lazy and non-responsive due to mental and physical fatigue.  Amazingly, I experienced no more knee pain for the remaining 6 hours of this long mission. 
 
In summary, caffeine certainly does have a role during exercise.  It can help us to feel alert, agile and responsive to the demands of the challenges we have set ourselves, and not to forget its effects on pain.  However, it is imperative to remember that it is a stimulant.  For these reasons, I would urge all athletes to develop insight into how it affects them on an individual level, and also to consider keeping it up your sleeve as a trump card for later in the race.  This will help you to experience that sensation of finishing with fire, whilst also helping to prevent digging energy deficits due to overexertion too early in an event. 

​I am running along a wild trail in Japan, entering into the Zen state that occurs soon after the ‘I am getting a little tired’ point, and shortly before the second-wind gusts you back onto your feet.  In this internal bubble, time loses all meaning, and thoughts come and go like the breeze that hits me each time I crest onto another jagged ridgeline. Sweat is dripping down my forehead, seeping down my neck, before finally making it into my undies. Moving along this trail, far from the wandering crowds, and well beyond reach of emails, phones and all that ‘life’ stuff, I think I am in heaven.  And, from the depths of this meditative state, I feel completely connected to my rawest self.
 
This experience in Japan is my first multi-day, lightweight mission.  All I am carrying on my back is a small five-liter running vest pack. It contains only the bare essentials – a change of undies, a singlet, shorts, thermal, rain jacket, toothbrush, electrolytes, sports gels, cash, phone and a few tea bags. (As I learnt last time I visited, even in Japan I can find myself in tea deficit mode.  On that occasion, I had reached a teahouse surrounded by tea plantations only to find that they only served coffee!)  On each day of this spontaneous adventure I am aiming to cover anywhere from 35 – 55km through relatively remote, mountainous terrain on the Kii Peninsula which lies to the south of the mega cities of Osaka and Kyoto. As I would later find out, I had been all too dismissive of the word ‘mountainous’, which in Japan really does mean huge, sharp climbs in excessive of 1000m, followed be slippery freefalls back down the other side, only to repeat again.

​On rare occasions the trail dips into the valleys that gently cup small, remote villages where a rural life of rice paddies, tea plantations and persimmon trees adorn.  Here, I am greeted to a hospitality unlike anywhere else in the world. Stooped women eagerly grasp my empty water bottle, or offer me some, ‘chocolate, just for you’when I step into their home, which also serves as a café. When the time comes to stiffly stand back up and bid farewell, she will stand at the hearth of her home, waving madly like I am her daughter.  I feel so connected to them even though our homelands are waters apart, and our native tongues struggle to express our gratitude.
 
In this rural region of Japan there is also attention to detail simply everywhere I turn.  Small rest stops enroute are cleaned to 5* hotel standards, with the toilet paper carefully folded into a ‘V’ shape to highlight just how carefully prepared it is for my sweaty bottom.  And when I finally arrive weary, muddy and salt-crusted at my ryokan (traditional Japanese inn) for the night, I am greeted by unphased, cheery smiles, along with a pair of slippers and a white fluffy towel.  Later, as I soak in the healing onsens and revel in the warm fuzzy feeling of a day of adventuring, little do I know that my futon bed is being carefully prepared by Japanese pixies.

​​Prior to this personal four-day adventure, I was leading a group of trail runners on one of our Find Your Feet Trail Running Tours. Each day of the tour, we host a tradition of sharing our highlights of the day with one another.  This is a beautiful insight into the small moments that can, at times, be life changing for our guests.  It provides not only a connection with one another, but also allows our guests to connect with a side of themselves which may feel unfamiliar and nuanced.  At the end of this particular trip, we also asked each guest to share the one element of Japan that they wished to return home with.  It was, without a doubt, the most remarkable conversation as unanimously, collectively, the group’s highlight of the trip was the Japanese custom of generosity and compassion, given so freely and with no sense of entitlement in return.  Yes, it is this missing sense of entitlement, replaced only by unwavering generosity and trust, that connects me to this unique country and continues to prod me in my heart me as a plod, huff and puff my way along the weaving trails.  
 
Out here, on a trail to somewhere, I love to watch the way neighbors connect in the street, chatting gaily to one another. To marvel at the lack of fences and their community gardens.  To watch them sweep, clean, and live alongside one another.  Individual lives, connecting together and being enjoyed collectively.  And yet beyond this camaraderie, there is another Japanese custom that profoundly strikes me – self-compassion! 
 
In many of the small towns which provided my bed of the night, the onsens are also frequented by locals who would tug off their gumboots at the entrance, and pad their way down carefully cleaned corridors in a pair of slippers.  Many of the women would be stooped from years of toiling in the rice paddies, tea plantations or vegetable allotments.  From labour to self-love, the onsen is where they come to nurture, preen, show mindfulness, and leave renewed.  When I step into this steamy environment at the end of the day, my dirty feet padding a contrasting pathway across pristine white tiles, I cannot help but observe the relaxed nature of the Japanese women sharing this space alongside one another… and me.  We are all nude.  We are all different, some with more curves here, and some with less there.  Taller, shorter, rounder, smaller, it doesn’t appear to matter.  These women will look at themselves in little stumpy mirrors whilst poised on small plastic stools.  They appear to observe themselves with a peacefulness that could only come from a lack of self-judgement, and a lack of judgement of others.
 
Contrastingly, back home many of us are warriors in the bathroom.  I, for one, am far too quick to judge and rush through a routine of in, out, dried, clothed and on my way again. It is about time… time… time… or lack thereof.  But in Japan, there is always time. Somehow, the days feel spacious, the heart fuller, the body more capable of brimming with self-gratitude. And of course, connecting to both oneself and others.
 
My adventure has now passed and this morning I am back in the more concreted landscapes of Osaka, awaiting my flight home. I cannot help but pine for those hazy memories of steep mountains and unknown pathways still to come.  So, in the shadows of dawn, I pull on my running shoes one last time and slip from the hotel, weaving my way out onto the foreshore overlooking the manmade island now forming the impressive Osaka Kansai International Airport.  Rain clouds are boiling with potency around me, and as the sun begins to bead light onto the earthen walls where families and fisherman throw their fishing lines into the sea, a bold rainbow manifests. I pause briefly, revel in the fact that I have had this glorious experience, and continue onwards, never once occurring to me to share this moment with the unfamiliar faces around me. However, I am soon pulled from my inner glow by another jogger.  He is waving madly at me and then madly at the sky, all the while hosting a broad, goofy smile. ‘Rainbow, rainbow!’He is calling to me, connecting with me, wanting me to see what he has seen.  We pause together, two individuals connected by an appreciation for nature’s finery, each exchanging unfamiliar words of excitement before continuing along our solo pathways.  Moments later, just as two nattering women in broad, floppy hats are wandering towards me, the rainbow has spread into a two-layered beauty with an arc from ocean to ocean.  I wave madly at them, and then up at the sky.  I know I am sporting a goofy smile but I cannot help it.  They stop in their tracks, conversation now on pause, and look up. Then they are squealing, pointing, waving at all the other wanderers as they wander.  We become bundled together, connected by an arc of colour, all pointing and cheering. ‘Rainbow! Rainbow!’
 
Had that first gentleman not taken that moment to connect with me, I would never have learnt that generosity can be as simple as sharing an arc of colour as it seeps across a sky. Had I not connected with those women in the onsens, I don’t think I would have ever fully understood the gift of self-compassion when I now turn on the taps in the quiet of the bathroom. We need connection, both to ourselves and to others.  It makes the rainbows shine brighter, judgement to seep away and compassion to rise to the surface.  It allows us to stand on a set of steps and wave goodbye to someone we do not know.  And it gives a sense of having more time. More time to to greet a neighbor in the street.  More time to share a random act of kindness, with no sense of entitlement in tow.  More time and excitement to explore wilder trails, knowing that you will be taken care of, both by yourself and by others.

Lee walks softly through the sliding doors into my living room, a converted 1960s garage which we rent from generous friends who live above.  For three years we lived humbly since we sold our home in Canberra and thrown everything into our Find Your Feet adventure business here in Tasmania.  Lee meets my outstretched hand with a quiet confidence and yet boyish nervousness.  I feel like I am looking in a mirror.  ‘Well this should be interesting!’ he remarks with a husky smoothness laced with an accent I cannot place.  
  
I flick on the microphone and watch the sound bars jump up and down as we begin to reminisce about adventures along Tasmania’s remote wilderness trails, the escapades which have profoundly shaped us.  Frenchman’s Cap with its landmark Lorax cliff face plummeting into Lake Tahune hundreds of metres below.  Federation Peak with its wallowing hippo-friendly mud.  And our local icon, Mt Wellington with is plethora of rabbit-warren trails etching a runner’s paradise across her north-eastern flanks.
  
For fifteen years Tasmania has been my home to a wicked combination of adventurous runs, heavy-legged recovery days and interval repetitions up brutal climbs. It shaped me as a person, elite runner and ultimately, a World Champion.  The mountain’s beauty has always helped to spark a belief in my dreams during times of adversity and has become a place for celebration after moments of accomplishment.  As stories unfold during my conversation with Lee, I realise that we are sharing a deeply profound moment of, ‘me too!’
  
Today Lee is a sixty-nine-year old recreational athlete whose greatest claim to fame, aside from the significant accomplishments in cycling to triathlon, running to trail running, is the fact that he has never been injured.  How is this possible?  A celebrated ecologist with an inquisitive mind that allows him to ask the deepest questions of humanity, Lee has adopted a belief in a theory called Punctuated Equilibrium.  Tasmania is his Petri dish.  I am rivetted.
  
“It is not the external world that needs to change. Transformational shifts happen from upgrading the internal world – your patterns of both thoughts and actions. These pattern shifts might just begin with moving beyond the drive for high performance; beyond the search for peak experiences; beyond being able to do more in your life. While the peaks are important and wonderful, the transformation of living more fully daily begins with a fundamental commitment to organize your life to be you at your best more often; to be more present, more grounded, more joyful, more playful, more focused — more “switched-on”. That way of living requires an investment in recovery: proper sleep, proper hydration and food intake, plenty of movement and an optimal way of thinking.”
  
This year, Federation Peak formed a huge punctuation mark in my life.  Over eleven hours of wading through mud and scrambling through a maze of horizontal scrub I overcome fear after nervous fear, driven by the knowledge from an early podcast guest, Dr Clive Stack, that fear serves the purpose of highlighting what is of greatest importance to us.  Being out there on that back-jarring trail, running and wading my way to the summit, was vitally meaningful to me.  And in the depths of one mud-hole, at a moment of ‘what am I doing!?’, I found a heightened realisation that we can only reach our greatest performances, our wildest ambitions, when we are grounded by a strong sense of self and what we love. Yes, discomforts aside, I love this side of Tasmania, and it helps me to uncover my truest self.   
​  
As a performance coach and consultant, time and time again I have observed the phenomena that when individuals have a profound understanding of their values and an ability to empower themselves; when they are then willing to play wilder and find the child within; only then do they reach their greatest levels of mastery and to strive for performance. Be wilder, play wilder, perform wilder.  Stability. Fun.  Perform… a constant cycle of self-exploration, playfulness and striving after which it is critical to return to our inner foundations and to ensure that they are still serving us. 
  
“Regardless of what you are aspiring towards, you do need elements of stability” 
   
As Lee explains, we grow in waves, with internal and external forces pushing us to rapidly adapt.  And if you are aware of how we as a species grow like this, then you can self-inflict the punctuation marks. From his steady home-base, this is how Lee has come to grow as an athlete.
   
“We have to be careful of not all heading for the middle ground. I think we need to pick up on our strengths and at times, create the punctuation marks.” 
   
In summary, it is vitally important to learn to be more to do more.  For me, I know that the old way of do more to be morehas passed and now been replaced with a desire to be wilder, play wilder and perform wilder.  In doing so, I slowly believe that I am finding the pathway to finding my feet.

​Listen to the full Find Your Feet Podcast episode with Lee Belbin.

As featured in Travel. Play. Live Magazine, Autumn 2018
 
Mud between my toes.  Mud etched into the lines of my hands.  Mud spots on my cheeks, both facial and I am sure, other.  Mud masking the scratches across my legs, the downside of this dense south-west Tasmanian scrub.  I have pain in my lower back, jarred from all the ducking beneath and leaping over the maze of toppled trees, their lifespan shortened by the roaring forties that rip through here.  If I am not buried in this confusion of fallen limbs, I am vaulting from button grass to mud bank, trying to avoid the deepest holes.  I can hear Dale behind me.  Deep breaths expired, the squelch of his shoes and the occasional humorous remark at our predicament as he flings himself across, and sometimes into, each muddy void.
 
Just four hours earlier I had lain, clean and cosy beside my husband listening to the rain beating onto the metal roof of our van. Surrounded by absolute darkness, the only indication of our remote location was the sounds of wind in the ancient Gondwanen forests and the swollen, rushing river.  Into this dark night I had uttered, ‘I am scared’.  Despite the knot of anxiety in my stomach, I had clambered out of the down parlor, the beam from my head torch highlighting the breadth of the growing puddles.  As I had tugged on long scrub socks, shoes and raincoat, set a match to my stove and prepared my tea pot, I went through a mental checklist:

• Do I have the right gear for these conditions? – ‘Yes’
• Do I adequately know the route? – ‘Yes’
• Have I prepared beyond all reasonable doubt? – ‘Yes’
• Do I have the skills for this adventure? – ‘Yes’
• Do I trust myself? – ‘I think so’

​As I poured the boiling water onto the tea leaves and finished preparing my vest pack, I knew that the only failure in this adventure would be not leaving the comfort of this van.  Fear should never be the barrier to our dreams.    
 
In May 2017, I had taken a giant step back from competitive sport.  Ready for a change in attention, I was forced to address the questions, ‘Who is Hanny and what does success really mean for her going forward?’  My new normal became playfulness and it was on the silly adventures, most notably in the wilder environments of Tasmania, that I slowly came to a very important realization - success is not about reaching summits, winning medals or hitting business targets.  Rather, it is a willingness to walk to, and then along, the edge of discomfort.  To be willing to be uncomfortable in the pursuit of the meaningful.
 
By the time I had hugged my husband one last time, rain beating down and my watch reading 4:30am, I was completely committed.  I followed Dale into the dense, saturated undergrowth, our torches dancing together.  Whilst the summit of Federation Peak was our aim, twenty-two kilometers along this overgrown hiking route, I knew that I had already succeeded by being 120% engaged in this adventure.  That is, success had been emotionally checking in for today despite the adverse weather conditions.
 
Now, four hours into the mission, I feel nervous.  Dale and I are ‘running’ towards the base of Moss Ridge, the notorious 1000m climb onto the plateau that marks the start of the final precarious ascent to the summit of Federation Peak.  We can see the clouds boiling above us, the summit’s sheer beauty obscured by their wet contents.  I have noticed the temperature has dropped again and I find myself needing to stop to pull on more layers.  I am wet to my skin, my shoes filled with the fine silt from the mud and every time I bend over my back is jarring.  Deep down I can distinguish that my emotion is not so much fear, but rather vulnerability in the face of the challenge ahead.  
 
To help remain positive, Dale and I begin to break the adventure down into smaller moments.  We encourage one another to keep fueled, warm, and to continue for another short period of time before we decide on the feasibility of a summit attempt.  We cut through the tension with laughter for what else can you do when you are soaked to your undies, muddier than a hippo and running like a wombat?  As it happened, this was the exact moment in this adventure where success occurred. Our willingness to persevere and laugh in the face of our discomfort created a positive spiral that soon after had us whooping and huffing, puffing and clambering all the way to the plateau. From there we had gingerly scuttled up and then down steep scree-filled gullies, teetered our way around narrower ledges and then, with frozen fingers, pulled our way up the final rock faces towards the summit where cold and dangerous conditions had us hightailing downwards before even a happy-snap could be taken.  Not once, in those uphill endeavors, did we consider turning back. Success at the base of the mountain had helped us to realise our dream of summiting.
 
It was a long, muddy waddle home.  However, high on the adrenalin of accomplishment, we giggled, found tranquil silence, experienced peacefulness in our deepest selves and then finally bumped into my husband Graham.  After 11.5hours and 43km, we popped back out of the undergrowth to the welcome sight of the van.  The sun was shining.
 
Every element of that adventure to Federation Peak should have been miserable and yet, when I reflect on it, all I can find is joy.  I am so proud that we overcame the temptation of comfort to embrace the conditions, that we found delight in the discomforts, and that we didn’t turn around in the face of fear or vulnerability.  It just makes me even more empowered to share what I know about success – that it is not the outcome.  It is about your willingness to walk to the edge of discomfort, and then remain there.
 
Adventure can truly be your avenue to self-development. It can strengthen you in moments of weakness and showcase what you truly love.  Adventure can highlight where you have room to grow, and where you have already grown.  It requires patience and perseverance, preparation and planning, humility and humour. And if the stars align, you will walk away many memories richer. ​

In the last weeks of my twenties, I can honesty testify that I thought nothing needed to change.  I was a happy Tomboy, chasing dreams and living life as I had always done – a car cruising along the highway on automatic pilot.  However, as I turned the corner into my thirties, I suddenly felt like I was confronted with an enormous junction, a confusion of dead-ends, back roads, and stop signs.  It was overwhelming and I was afraid to look back to where I had come from for fear of what I may see. At the end of 2016, I wrote a reflection of this experience titled Planting My Feet.  This piece was a very personal account of the journey I went on after I turned 30 and how I navigated this crossroads, discussing how I began working on ‘self’ to find greater purpose in my relationships, sport and career. 
 
As I moved into 2017, my greatest intention, call it a new year’s resolution if you must, was to consolidate the positive experiences and hard work of 2016.  I think I can honestly say that I have done so, and here is what I have learnt from this wild ride of the year just gone:

1. My greatest fear is failure:

Two years of internal work, exploring the actions of my past to enhance future experiences, has led me to understand that I have a massive fear of failure.  Most surprisingly, learning to rock climb this year has highlighted this to me.  Fingers and toes delicately holding onto a sheer wall, the land far below, this exposure brings up many emotions but a fear of heights or falling is not one of them. No, I simply have a fear of not making it to the top.  To me, this would mean failure and in these moments fear squeals at me in a higher pitched, feminine voice – ‘Don’t fail!’.  As I began to realise this, I began to look at other areas of my life.  Sport, business, writing, academia – ‘Don’t fail!’.  Here I pause.  Please do not get me wrong, I am not competing with you.  No, this is an internal competition with myself, a fear that I will not succeed with the challenge I have set myself. 

What has helped me to overcome this fear of failure has been to rewrite my definition of success, which has slowly become to ‘seek craftsmanship and strive for beauty’.  And my modality for achieving this is, ‘be wilder, to play wilder, to perform wilder’.  Gone are my days of butchering onwards, thinking more is better and rushing for outcomes. I now strive to find ways to feel more beautiful in my intentions, so that I experience more joy in my actions, so that I can, in turn, strive for mastery in the outcomes I aspire for.  I believe that this has to be the order of priorities… Be, Play, Perform.

2. Ego is the elephant in my room:
After turning thirty, I spent twelve-months working with a performance psychologist.  After a few sessions, he suggested that there was an elephant in the room with us.  I knew he was right.  I could feel the beast lurking in the corner, poking me occasionally with his trunk and occasionally stomping on my toes.  This year I have finally come to identify him by name and to bring him out of the shadows.  Everyone, meet Ego!  For the most part, Ego likes to take long naps and doesn’t bother me.  However, when the high-pitched, feminine Fear squeals, ‘Don’t fail!’, the dominating, male presence of Ego the Elephant heffalumps to my rescue.  ‘Just do more.  Train more.  Work harder.  Try more.  Say yes!  Don’t say no!’  And so the tug-of-war starts, feminine Fear on one side and Ego the elephant on the other.  Until we all get so damn tired that we put down the rope, call truce, and make a cup of tea.

3. Honest ends the tug-of-war
Honesty is, and has always been, one of my strongest values but I actually didn’t realize its quieter, positive influence in how I live my daily life.  Whilst I find it easy to be honest with others, this year I have come to truly understand that I am the best version of Me when I am truthful with Hanny.  This is because it halts the tug-of-war between Ego the Elephant and my feminine Fear. 

It is definitely easy to drift from the truth, sometimes slightly and other times wildly.  This usually happens when Ego is winning the war and I find myself saying to myself, ‘She’ll be right…’  The most frequent example of this is when my body is pleading with me to be kind to it and instead Ego encourages me to battle on through.  This has resulted in a few injuries, such as currently with my Achilles.  Sometimes I find that the truth feels shameful, like realizing you are not as strong as you thought you were.  And it can be uncomfortable, like admitting you were wrong in your judgment.  Other times I find the truth confusing, especially in relationships. And sometimes, like when you stand alone on a remote peak, it is wildly exciting.  What I have discovered, using wilder adventures and business as a method of discovery, is that to live truthfully is to live in the NOW.  When I am in the moment, not thinking about my past or future, I am being honest with myself and finding positive outcomes.  When I am in the NOW, there is little room for Ego who is forced to return to his corner, trunk between his legs.  And amazingly, as he does, fear abates too.

2017 was beautiful, albeit busy.  The highlights have definitely been:

• Standing on a patch of white sand pledging to remain by my best friend till death do us part;
• Overcoming a trepidation of the vast unknown to traverse the South Coast Track of Tasmania on the eve of my 31st birthday;
• Guiding a group through the Overland Track on a 65km wild adventure in wooly Tasmanian weather;
• Crossing the finish line at the Ultra Trail Australia 100km and feeling a rich sense of completion;
• Completing my first, large solo, remote adventure on a trail run to Frenchman’s Cap in Tasmania;
• Beginning the vertical journey in the sport of rock climbing;
• Seeing Find Your Feet continue to succeed my expectations and in doing so, foster a wilder community around Australia;

 
With the new year now upon us, my intentions for 2018 are to:

• Live more in the NOW;
• Practice more gratitude;
• Write frequently;
• Nurture my body with wholefoods and appropriate exercise;
• Play unforgivingly;
• And to seek craftsmanship when I ‘Dare to Play Wilder’. 

I hope that you are also looking forward to a wholehearted year ahead!  May it be the ride that you wish for.

​I really appreciate all your continued support.  If you haven't already done so, please check out:

• Find Your Feet Retail
• The Find Your Feet Podcast
• The Find Your Feet TRAIL RUNNING GUIDEBOOK
• Find Your Feet Tours incorporating Wild Missions with Hanny Allston

Hanny

​Written by: Joonas Pääkkönen.

Reading Osho’s When the Shoe Fits, while having breakfast felt like a nice way to start my day off at a hotel in Tampere, Finland last July. It was time for the Junior World Orienteering Championships (JWOC), a busy week filled with competitions. Later that day, though, I only had one meeting scheduled on my calendar: an interview with Australian JWOC team manager Hanny Allston. 

I have been fascinated by the mental aspects of endurance sports all my life, alongside with the Eastern traditions of inner work, including various forms of meditation. Interestingly, my conversation with Hanny turned out to cover many such topics.

At the lobby of a hotel located in a picturesque Finnish landscape, Allston, known to be the only non-European to ever medal at the World Orienteering Championships, sat down for a chat. 

“Can I offer you a cup of coffee?”, asks Allston with a friendly Aussie intonation when I enter the lobby where we were to meet. She seems more than ready and happy to talk about her various endeavors. 

I was all ears. I kept nodding while listening to her talk. It was obvious that running was not just a pastime for her. Neither was it just a competitive sport. She definitely had a deeper connection with running, with competing, with confronting herself, and with being alone in the wild. Alone in the wild for hours. Where nobody can find you. 

​She is now, among other things, a successful business woman. With her company Find Your Feet, a multi-faceted company specializing in tours as well as education and outdoor retail, she goes running with people like me and you, to some of the most spectacular places on the planet. 

"...it’s lovely to win a gold medal but at the end of the day, I want be able to do this forever. Again, when we were talking about “Do I want to support this system in Australia in orienteering?”, my heart struggles with that question because my husband doesn’t orienteer, my life is in a state which is not an orienteering location and I have these opportunities to use my skills for both myself and for other people in other ways..." 

... Read more by downloading the file below. 

Joonas' is a freelance writer, an orienteering and running coach, a Taoist qigong instructor, and a Ph.D. student in telecommunications.  

​Joonas is available for contact via email: 
joonas.paakkonen@yahoo.com 

​​I’m lying on my back on a scratched, leather lounge, trying to block out the intrusive airport intercoms announcing the next departure.  Two hours down and only three hours more to go till my flight home to Hobart.  My brain is filled with jetlag and my previously clear thoughts have been replaced by a murkier mess.  Somewhere between Finland and Melbourne self-doubt has crept into my grey matter, leaving me wondering one of the big questions in life, ‘Where does empowerment come from, both my own self-empowerment and the ability to influence others?’ 
 
Today I am returning from Finland where I was assisting the Australian Junior Orienteering Team with their preparations for their World Championships.  Amongst the forests and lakes, I had felt my skills, academia and life experiences uniting to support each team member to perform wilder.  I would start each day with an early morning explore, cruising along the lake’s edge, finding animal paths through the forest undergrowth.  The lake was often mirror calm so after the run I would slip into the gleaming water.  For one week, this was my shower.  And after rewarming myself with two or three cups of tea, I can honestly say I was ready to empower anything, even the moose and giant slugs populating the forest!  My team fondly nicknamed me ‘Nanny Hanny’ after the copious cups of tea I enjoyed as well as my early-to-bed habits.  I am confident the nickname does not reflect me driving.
 
Interestingly, the word Empower actually has two meanings: To give (someone) the authority or power to do something; and, to make (someone) stronger and more confident, especially in controlling their life and claiming their rights.  The origin of the word is slightly more complicated, with the ‘em’ thought to actually come from either the Old Frech or Latin word “en”, meaning “in”, “to look” or to “come”.  This suggests a word derived from the Old French or Latin meanings of looking or coming for power.  Today we see a hugely prolific use of the word, from personal development to business.  It feels like everyone wants us to be empowered!  So, how does this occur and who has the permission to influence me finding this inner power?
 
I believe we give ourselves permission to be empowered by someone when we gain a sense of their authenticity and self-connectedness.  If I think back to those who have touched my life in ways that enabled me to achieve beyond what I had dared to dream alone.  Max Cherry jumps to mind.  At 80 years of age, bumbled under an old track suit and a tartan beret, it was his bellowing voice from his car whilst we ran alongside, his handshake at the start of training, his gentle hug when we ‘did good’, that taught me there is no such word as can’t and to see my talents in distance running.  Jackie Feathweather nee Gallagher also helped to highlight the importance of vulnerability.  One hell of a listener, she allowed openness, demanded honesty and coached me to strength as a marathon runner.  Jeremy, with his bike shoes under the table, empowers me to seek authenticity in my own marrow.  So many amazing individuals, all with authenticity visible bubbling from even the smallest of handshakes, nods or eye contact.
 
In Finland, the natural environment inspired me outdoors.  Mornings in the sunshine, forest scarps stuck to my hair, mud spatters up my calves, this is where I connect strongest with myself.  This is where I find inspiration and self-connectedness.  And I took this empowered-self to the competition arenas where I truly believe I passed the empowerment through to these young athletes.  I saw them begin to dream bigger and perform wilder, seeing physical, mental and emotional strength unite to create optimal performance. 
 
As I boarded the first or many flights home I began conceptualizing an article on the beauty of empowerment.  And yet here I am now, face up on an airport lounge questioning my ragged attempts to do so.  I feel as stale and unexcited as the airport terminal itself.  So, I do what I know best – rip open my bag, scrounge for my slightly stale smelling running attire, draw tight the laces of my shoes and go exploring.
 
To my great surprise Melbourne Airport has the most fabulous trail running on its doorsteps.  Out past the smokers’ precinct, round behind McDonalds, down around the runway lighting, across a ditch and ‘pop’, into an open parkland I find myself.  As the noise of the airport begins to fade and the evening light dapples through the open eucalypt forest with dancing grasslands beneath, I begin to shake my head.  How can I possibly conceptualize empowerment from a stuffy, crowded airport lounge where alcohol and donuts are readily consumed?  I run with my thoughts through an old gate, parallel with a fence line with more holes than wire and upwards towards open skies.  Where does empowerment bubble up from? The realization comes to me as I summit a small hill and confront a 360-degree view of Melbourne and its outlying suburbs.
 
The process of empowering others is a reflection of our ability to empower ourselves.  I choose the word process carefully because I believe that empowerment requires a slow building of trust, not just with the other person, but with yourself.  Out on this hilltop with aircraft skimming overhead and rusty rays streaking across a darkening sky I feel inner strength and confidence returning.  I am breaking the norm, escaping the concrete and in turn empowering myself.  A quick decision to do something that makes me feel good about myself has switched me from moping mess to excitable adventurer.  I could have had another cup of tea, or indulged in some smarties (my traveler’s Achilles heal).  I could have opened my laptop and tried to strategically think my way out of my muddle.  But this simple act of inspiration has replaced the negatives with positives, the internal critique with a gentler voice of compassion, and restlessness with excitement.  I feel like racing back to the airport to grab my husband Graham and drag him out here with me to experience this too.  And therein lies empowerment.  Au natural, bubbling up deep from within.
 
I guess the moral of this muddled story is that we cannot empower others unless we first empower ourselves.  This empowerment comes from taking daily actions, (as well as perhaps the occasional big F$%k-Off adventure!) that inspires you.   Recently, I have tried to focus on the small things that uplift me, from a plant-based diet to early nights, time camping under the stars, and my mini-morning missions before opening my laptop.  I also find creativity, fostering rich friendships, and self-nurturing also stimulate richer thoughts of authenticity.  With guidance, I have spent time thinking more consciously about my values and reflecting on these in my journaling.  I have also launched my Find Your Feet Podcast because I love the act of learning from others and the act of freely sharing this with our broader community.  All these little things add up!
 
When I first started Find Your Feet back in 2009 I was simply trying to find my own feet.  I had fallen out of love with my running and had let my health tip into the unhealthy, ‘underweight athlete’ zone.  However, I was super eager to help other adults fall in love with the sport of running and meet new friends at the same time, using both running groups and life coaching as my means to do so.  After around six months one of my regular clients and someone that I am now proud to consider a friend pulled me aside – ‘Hanny, you have the potential to give us all a beautiful this gift.  But if all we see is someone who doesn’t nurture themselves then we will never be able to truly appreciate the gift you are trying to give us’.  After all these years I finally, truly understand his words of wisdom – empower yourself to empower others.

​Look backwards to where we have come.  We are anonymous.  No one knows our pathway more than they know our future.  A sodden trail leading upwards, substituting the sparse understory of the lower forest for a non-existent canopy.  Frozen, white fingers mimicking the silent stags guarding the history of this forest. Tarkine.  Our Tarkine. 
 
The buttons of the Buttongrass dance a silent tango, intimate and yet rarely touching.  That’s where we belong… intimately a part of Tarkine’s waltz.  Observing without touching, admiring without desiring.  Tarkine.  Our Tarkine. 
 
Opposites attract.  Light rain feeds the vegetation whilst we shrug deeper into our jackets.  Grey undergrowth to grey skies on grey alpine soils.  Red raincoats a reminder of our differences.  Tarkine.  Our Tarkine. 
 
Roads dug through deep culverts, winding us from one sensory overload to another.  A white bridge spanning a rusted river, jade moss clinging to its edges like the silvery mist clinging to the ridgelines.  Once again, we look to the white stags spreading their fingers towards an inconspicuous sky.  If we could take flight like the Currawongs we wouldn’t need the roads.  Tarkine.  Our Tarkine.
 
Her peat soils hide her wealth.  Gold, tin, iron and more.  She produces beauty so heightened we often rip off her surface to expose her emotions.  Inevitably she will bleed her pain into the surrounding waterways as slurry is dug from her heart, feeding outside investments.  Tarkine.  Our wounded Tarkine.
 
She cannot hide.  Vast Myrtles a true giveaway of her affluence.  She cannot escape.  Let her beauty not face the fate of the Thylacine and Tarkine people.  Tarkine.  Our trapped Tarkine.  
 
Flick off the leech, swat the marsh fly, wave away the mosquito and wash the mud off down spinning drains.  We barely belong here but we are Tarkine’s caretakers.  Stave off those bearing down on our Tarkine! Wave them away like an insect.  Tarkine.  Our Tarkine.
 
If we can learn to run we can learn to say no.  Say no to her helplessness. 
 
If we can learn to speak we can learn to say yes.  Say yes to her protection. 
 
Without a voice, she needs our help.  Stand up for her freedom like we avidly protect our own.
 
Tarkine.  Let her become your Tarkine.

How much of an endurance challenge is mental or physical?  I have always been at a lost for an appropriate response and grabbing at random numbers.  Seventy percent physical?  Forty percent mental?  Or should this be fifty-fifty? Or…  Just days away from the my first 100km trail running event I can now respond with more conviction.  Breaking down any endurance challenge into only mental and physical components is over simplified.  Right now I can testify that there is a huge emotional element to endurance performance too and I believe that we often overlook the incredible power that our emotions hold over us.  This begs the question - are we putting enough emphasis on emotional intelligence as we strive to succeed in endurance challenges?


But what is success when it comes to endurance? For me now, success defines my willingness to sit on the edge, to lean in to the discomfort that is inevitable and to accept whatever the outcome is.  Conversely, to fail is not a failure to reach the summit, but to shy away from this discomfort and seek an easier way out.  Therefore, success is not a result that I find on the finish line but rather an experience I undertake during the journey to the summit.


So what stops us from perching on the edge of our comfort zone?  I see this ‘edge’ as the point at which success and failure merge and where some of our greatest self-growth occurs?  As I prepare for tomorrow’s daunting 100km run, undeniably what has me begging to step back from this edge is fear.  For me, fear normally kicks in during the last few weeks as the big day approaches.  It replaces my sense of control and focus, leaving me filled with self-doubt and the inevitable question, ‘why on earth am I doing this??!’ 


During a recent Find Your Feet Podcast episode with Dr Clive Stack, we found ourselves discussing the concept of fear, especially in relation to my impending run at Ultra Trail Australia.  Dr Stack has devoted his expertise to researching human emotions and the purposes these serve.  He has come to believe that fear highlights a moment when things are about to change for the better and that instead of running from fear we should lean into these moments, finding courage to strive for another week, day, hour or even minute until we finally break through to the other side where empowerment, personal growth and success lie.  So, when intimidation has us withdrawing into ourselves and self-doubt wakes us at 5am in the morning… that is when we must disregard our fear and crawl to the edge.  In this moment of self-doubt we need to have faith to lean in.


I think too often we set a goal and then focus on our physical and occasionally our mental preparedness.  But I firmly believe we need uncomfortable experiences to foster emotional resilience.  Emotional preparedness comes from experiences that hold us in a space beyond our comfort zone.  I find my greatest strength when I am active outdoors in a foreign location or immersed in the elements.  During the depths of my 100km, when the sun sets and I am alone on the course, I know that I will not be relying so much on my physical fitness, but rather I will be drawing strength from past adventures and the tougher moments in life that I have experienced.


As we strive for new summits, I implore us all to begin acknowledging the presence of our emotions and the role they play as we near ‘the edge’.  If we are able to accept their involvement then we will be less surprised as emotions emerge, especially during those critical last weeks or when we are digging deep on ‘summit day’.  If you are experiencing fear, hold tight for another day, hour or even minute.  For things are about to change for the better.  Back yourself.  Trust yourself.  Take faith in your preparation but especially in the moments when you have been physically, mentally & emotionally challenged. 


In summary, I truly believe that fear and emotional turmoil will be intricately involved in any preparation when we strive towards new summits.  After all, we seek these hefty challenges as an opportunity to grow, learn and frighten ourselves a little.  I know that my 100km run through the Blue Mountains tomorrow will be an intricate blend of physical, mental and emotional resilience.  And if that fails me, then perhaps it will become a spiritual experience as I pray to the gods for the finish line!


Listen to Dr Clive Stack on the Find Your Feet Podcast:
https://findyourfeet.com.au/pages/dr-clive-stack

​This year I hit the big 30. I had really been looking forward to this milestone in my life. On the day I turned thirty, I stood atop the final summit of my ‘30 peaks in the year before I turn 30’ challenge. Whilst it had come down to the wire, I felt wind-chapped & glowing from the inside out. That was until injury hit and I took a visit to my GP. 

I walked into her sparsely furnished consulting room in urban Hobart with a few concerns. Mainly girl stuff. I expected a stethoscope, perhaps a poke and a prod and in the worst case a jab to steal some blood. What I didn’t expect was for her to quietly look me up and down, tuck back her hair and say earnestly, ‘Hanny, I think you need to embrace your femininity’.

‘My what...!’ 

Ninety dollars poorer and none-the-wiser, I sat in front of Dr Google. What is femininity and what relevance could this possibly have for this 30-year-old tomboy with a phobia for dresses and lipstick? 

For a few days, Dr Google became my morning reading and I studied the topic religiously. I learnt that we are all a unique blend of masculine and feminine traits. Our masculine traits are related to strength, independence, stability, focus, competition and self-confidence. Our feminine traits are related to empathy, compassion, sensuality, nurturing, patience, loving and living with ‘flow’. Males can display greater feminine traits and women may express more masculine traits, neither or which are right or wrong. 

The more I learnt, the more pressured I felt. I must become more feminine! The harder I  tried to be feminine, the more I resented the skirt I was wearing. 

I never found what I was looking for from Dr Google but I have through honest self reflection and inner work found some answers. Nothing can prepare you for the discomforts of looking deep inside yourself and pulling apart your personal assumptions, barriers, rules and truths. I enlisted the support of a performance psychologist to ask the difficult questions you are never really prepared to ask yourself. After a few sessions I was still grappling with the concept of finding femininity. I had somehow evaded the most difficult questions until one day we journeyed into foreign territory. 

‘What do you do for self-compassion?’ he enquired with that intense focus that makes you squirm. ‘I had a massage last night,’ I mumbled in reply, grateful for this worthy evidence of my self-com- passion practice. After a few minutes silence he replied, ‘For self-compassion or physical recovery?’ 

That was my possum-stuck-in-car headlight’s moment. My wake up call not to sit on the road and play chicken with the truck roaring towards you. A truck carrying a whole load of.......femininity.

As I was paying the bill for this perplexing session, he quietly drove the nail into my understanding, ‘Hanny, femininity is not just about wearing dresses’. 
​
It was days later on my frosty Mt Wellington, solo run and scrunching my thermal around my frozen fingers that I found enlightenment. The lone burrawong’s chorus cut through the sharp cries of the yellow-tailed Black Cockatoos. Light was dancing off the water as it gushed through healthy streams. Whilst fatigue had plagued me  when I laced my running shoes, I eased back the effort and became acutely aware that my stunning surroundings were leading me into a state of flow. I felt like I could run forever! And therein lay my first true awareness of femininity – self compassion, sensuality and living with flow. Femininity felt amazing! 

Through a lifetime of athletic & academic practice and a hobby farm upbringing, the tomboy has lived strong inside me. The masculine traits of goal setting, competitiveness, independence and pushing through when ‘the going gets tough’ have strongly dominated my persona. These traits were reflected in my daily routines, exercise habits, nutrition and meal preparation, business, athletic racing style and even the way I showed Iove as a fiancée, daughter, sister and friend. 

But I have breasts. And when a family member hurts, I want to wrap them in a bundle of compassion. I love to listen and believe empathy is one of my stronger virtues. I find peacefulness when I am in nature and my greatest creativity when I don’t force it. These are some of my many feminine qualities. 

My GP sent me away to ‘embrace my femininity’, not ‘be more feminine’. I don’t have  to wear a dress or apply lipstick. I just need to love being me, a unique mix of ferocious tomboy, compassionate sister, fun loving fiancée, empathetic friend and loving daughter. I am a young woman just learning about self-compassion and embarking on a long pilgrimage towards womanhood. 
​
If you too are struggling with femininity and if this notion also feels foreign to you, here are my words of advice. Stop trying and start with self-compassion. I have found the easiest place to find my femininity is outdoors on a mountain trail, with the wind in my face. Where will your femininity take you?