PARIS 2024 RECAP

On Sunday July 7th we boarded our flight from Brisbane to Zurich, with St. Moritz being our final destination. With two young children and multiple suitcases in tow, my husband Dylan and I strapped ourselves in and took a deep breath as the wheels left the runway. We started the travel with open minds and came out the other side feeling sleep deprived but proud of how both Billy (4.5 years old) and Ellie (10.5 months old) had managed the plane and train travel. Two days earlier I had raced the Gold Coast Half Marathon – one of my favourite domestic running events. Two months prior to this race I received a phone call to say that I had been selected for the 2024 Paris Olympics; a moment that evoked great happiness and also a few tears when sharing the news with my family and coach.

When assessing the Paris Olympic Marathon course elevation profile with Adam and the South Australian Sports Institute’s exercise physiologist Eileen it was clear that high-altitude training should be included in my preparation if possible. The course featured 436m of climbing and equal descent which was about 100m more than the hilliest Marathon I had ever run. Ideally I would undertake a three week high-altitude block to achieve the desired physiological benefits and to align with what had worked for me in the past. Despite being slightly cooler and further from Paris than some other options, St. Moritz was our location of choice because of its familiarity and family-friendly setup. I had spent three weeks training there in 2017 ahead of the London World Athletics Championships and again in 2022 before the Birmingham Commonwealth Games Marathon. Rather than race five days after my altitude block as I had done previously, we made the decision to attend the Athletics Australia team staging camp in Montpellier two weeks prior to Marathon day. This would not only give me the chance to adjust to the warmer conditions in France but was serve as a valuable opportunity to immerse myself in the team environment and train with my Marathon team mates.

BELOW: 1YR RUNNING LOAD GRAPH - VOLUME PEAKED 3 WEEKS BEFORE RACE DAY IN PARIS

CUTTING TO THE CHASE - RACE DAY

On Sunday August 11th I woke at 4am to the all-too-familiar phone alarm melody. Unlike other mornings, this was race day and my body seemed to know it. Despite taking a long time to settle to sleep the night beforehand, I felt alert. My roommate Sinead and I had enthusiastically watched Australia’s Jessica Hull claim silver in a thrilling 1500m race, which some of my family members and athletes in our apartment had been able to enjoy amongst the electric atmosphere of Stade de France. In contrast we were lying in our beds in a dimly lit bedroom watching the action on Sinead’s phone screen. We were squealing with excitement when Jess crossed the line and then had to calm our nervous systems as swiftly as possible to get some sleep before toeing our own starting line.

My first job upon waking was to express as much milk as possible - meeting Dylan and Ellie outside of the Village at 4:30am to feed Ellie would have been a logistical nightmare. I knew that Ellie would be fine as we had spent the past week practising this routine. After a quick shower I pulled on my team Australia uniform and tied my hair back, wondering how matted my pony tail would be in a few hours’ time. Before collecting my bag which I had carefully packed the day beforehand, I wrote four words on the back of my hand to focus on throughout the race.

Less than twelve hours earlier we had met with the three Aussie Marathon men; Pat, Liam and Andy to hear their tips and feedback from their own race experiences on Saturday morning. Key takeaways were to grab a bottle of water and pour it on your head to cool down as often as possible – water tables were located halfway between every personal drink station. Given that our race day forecast was three degrees warmer than the men’s, I felt that this tip was an important one. Two days earlier we had driven over the course as a team (minus Pat who had seen it earlier in the year) and we noted details such as shady areas on course, surface changes and of course the gradients of the three key hills located between 15 and 32 kilometres. Another pearl from the men was that the steepest and most difficult climb at the 27.5km mark was going to be brutal no matter how fresh or fatigued we felt at that point. They recommended not holding back in the earlier stages of the race in anticipation of the big climb. I got the sense that it was going to be more a case of surviving rather than thriving on that hill and pocketed their words of wisdom.

There was a calm silence when we stepped out of the lift into the Team AUS common area yet a nervous energy engulfed me. It was 4:45am. The Australian dining room that was usually buzzing with athletes either going about their pre-competition routine or chatting with team mates whilst watching the Olympic coverage was empty, aside from a few support staff. Our team coach Collis checked in to make sure that we had packed the essentials - race bibs, a left and right racing shoe (a very wise thing to check) and our accreditation. I was impressed when Gen arrived at breakfast with immaculately braided hair, which she had done herself that morning. I had a quick pod coffee and a bowl of rice bubbles with honey. Gen remarked how disappointing it was to drink coffee for function not enjoyment and I agreed. I grabbed two pieces of toast with honey for the road and we set off towards the bus. My stomach was feeling a bit queasy and my food wasn’t going down as easily as I would have liked - I put it down to nerves and took reassurance from the fact that I had consumed the targeted amount of carbohydrates on my pre-race fuelling plan. Sinead, Gen and I spent the 45 minute bus trip to the start line chatting about topics unrelated to the race. I read a letter that my coach Adam had sent to me – a major championship tradition of his. His letter reinforced was how involved my family had been in this preparation and how much it would motivate me to see them out on course cheering. He also said that if there was a gold medal for preparation we wanted to win it. I loved this thought and stepped off the bus with a sense that we had left no stone unturned in preparing for this race.

FOLLOW THE BLUE LINE

The starting area was located next to the spectacular Hôtel De Ville, which is where the Women’s March on Versailles started from in 1789 - a key moment from the French Revolution. We arrived at 6am and went through our pre-race routines which for me included a series of my favourite mobility exercises from Alice Bacqui’s online classes that I had been doing at least weekly since pregnancy. One hour before the starters gun Gen, Sinead and I commenced our cooling protocol. After a short jog warm up we sat and sipped on icy slushies whilst Avish, Collis, Adam and Brent repeatedly dunked large towels in iced water-filled eskies and draped them over our upper bodies. Within ten minutes we had goosebumps and by the end we were starting to feel shivery. There was a moment of chaos as we had a final toilet stop, pulled on ice vests and made our way to the call room, which closed half an hour before the starters gun. I lathered my toes and feet in anti-friction balm to reduce the risk of blisters, which I thought were inevitable on this hilly course. After a couple of very short strides in a small area outside the tent, the eighty eight (or so) competitors were herded past an identity check scanner into the final call room. Within this cobbled square surrounded by high stone walls, Gen, Sinead and I exchanged some final words of reflection on the significance of this occasion and wished each other all the best. Sinead had been dealing with relentless muscle spasms in her thigh since the beginning of her warm up. It was clear that she was very uncomfortable but her bravery and desire to avoid inflicting stress on those around her shone. 

Sinead, Gen and I found ourselves at the back of the pack on the starting line. Rather than jostle our way towards the front we felt comfortable easing into the race with space around us. I looked down at the back of my hand. The four words that I had written on it almost four hours earlier were barely legible after our pre-cooling routine. I took a moment to go over the plan in my mind that I had discussed with Adam on race eve.

SMOOTH. CONTROLLED. BRAVE. FREE

My plan for this race was to run as smoothly as possible through the first 15km. I hoped to switch off mentally and move with the main pack as efficiently as possible. Adam told me not to be afraid of sitting at the front of the pack to keep things rolling if the pace felt particularly conservative early. My word for the first long, gradual climb from around 15 kilometres to the 20 kilometre mark was controlled. My aim was to find a good rhythm and run within myself. The section from 20 to 30 kilometres featured a gradual downhill segment followed by a steep 800m climb that we had likened to a rollercoaster during our course recon a few days earlier. A couple of the Australian men post-race said that in hindsight they would have pushed harder to stick with the runners ahead of them during this segment, rather than holding back to save themselves for the hill. This is where I would need to be brave. The final 12 kilometres featured a steep descent and then a relatively flat run along the River Seine to the finish line in front of the Esplanade Des Invalides. With less technical elements to consider during the final 10 kilometres, I decided to focus on running free. My friend Eloise Wellings had used these words when we chatted on race eve and they seemed fitting. I knew that the crowds would be thick from the Eiffel Tower near the 40km mark to the finish line and I wanted to draw upon this energy.

Kathrine Switzer (the first female to participate in the Boston Marathon and a trailblazer for female runners) performed an official welcome and within minutes the runners were off. The opening kilometres were some of the untidiest of any race I have run. Frantic runners on narrowing roads with sharp corners and the odd pothole seemed a recipe for disaster. Elbows and heels flew, clipping and tripping athletes in their midst. I sighted Gen’s bright yellow top ahead and found comfort during the chaos by running near her. New Zealand’s Camille French, whom we had spent much of the last two weeks with in Montpellier and Paris was also there. I later found out that our first kilometre split was 3:35 which was slower than it felt given the concentration and energy required to stay out of trouble. Up ahead I could see Domenika Mayer from Germany (who I had got to know in St. Moritz) and Malindi Elmore from Canada. Kenyan athletes Sharon Lokedi (who won the 2022 New York Marathon that I also raced), Hellen Obiri (2023 Boston Marathon winner), Peres Jepchirchir (defending Olympic Marathon champion) and Ethiopia’s Tigst Assefa (World Record Holder) were near the front line with Sifan Hassan sitting a few metres back.

After crossing a roundabout at The Louvre in a thick pack, we started to position ourselves for the 5km personal drink station. The tables were arranged in alphabetical order which meant that Australia was near the front. We had two representatives at each table (other than the 30km mark at which Rhydian Cowley held the flag solo) who had woken at the crack of dawn to be waiting at the table with our drinks and a cold towel in hand. We were all very grateful for their dedication and support. Gen and I passed the table in single file and were able to safely collect our bottles. I squeezed cold water from the towel onto my head and lower back, then drank the entire contents of my bottle – water with a Maurten drink mix. I was relieved to tick off this first part of the process and to see that Gen had too. I couldn’t see Sinead but hoped that she was somewhere nearby. The next ten kilometres felt more comfortable than then first five. I found my Marathon-effort rhythm and tried to stay near Gen and Camille. We alerted each other to upcoming cobblestones and drink stations. After having spent weeks running together there was an uplifting sense of familiarity. As recommended by the Marathon men and Avish, I grabbed a bottle of water at the midway point between our 5km personal drink stations and poured it on my head. The water on my skin and the gentle breeze immediately cooled me down.

Soon after the 8km mark I heard a familiar voice in the distance over my left shoulder. I took a quick look back and saw a huddle of white 'Allez Jess' t-shirts; their wearers waving ecstatically. The voice belonged to my younger sister Abbie. She was hanging over the fence next to her daughter Soph who was born when I was at the Rio Olympics eight years earlier, as well as my parents, my friend Cassie from Adelaide and her husband. I was pumped to see them all and threw my arm in the air to show that I had spotted them. At the 10 kilometre station I collected my next bottle and gulped down the entire gel attached to it which contained 40g of carbohydrates. I was going to need that energy for the hills to come. Soon after throwing my bottle to the side of the road I heard more familiar and fervent cheers. I looked to my side and saw Dylan holding Billy in the air, both wearing big grins. I smiled on the inside and out. A cute video that Billy’s ELC had sent a few days earlier of Billy’s classmates chanting “Go Billy’s Mum” popped into mind. At this point I was sitting in 26th position (not that I knew my position at the time).

As I neared the third drink station at the base of our first significant climb I noticed a pack of cyclists to our left in bright yellow t-shirts shouting out “Go Gen” - I took a moment to appreciate the effort that so many people had gone to for this day. We were very exposed to the sun at this point but fortunately I didn’t feel hot – the humidity if anything was starting to drop. We had finally entered the segment of the course that we had driven on a few days earlier, so I was aware of the challenge ahead. At the 15km mark I was in 23rd position and was 25 seconds behind the lead pack with Gen and Camille. I felt calm and hoped that the hills would provide an opportunity to start narrowing the distance between us and the leaders. There was a buzz in the air as we started to drive our bodies up the rise. I was delighted to notice how light and bouncy my legs felt. As I moved towards the back of the lead pack, I planned to tuck myself in but quickly realised that doing so would involve disrupting my natural rhythm. I made a quick decision instead to keep my pace going towards the French girl, Julien, who had been sitting ahead of the main pack. I heard Gen’s husband Ryan Gregson on a bike calling out words of support – his voice was full of passion and respect. For a moment I ran alongside the French girl and listened to the voice in my head which said “Don’t take the lead!” I started this race knowing that some of my competitors had personal best Marathon times that were ten to twelve minutes faster than my own. The girls in the pack behind me would undoubtedly wind up the pace in the final ten or so kilometres and I needed to play to my strengths to have a chance at being competitive. I remembered Adam’s words, “Don’t be afraid if you find yourself in the lead in the early stages”. This was still early and I felt comfortable with my effort so in a split second I decided to keep moving forward fearlessly. I tried to forget that this was the Olympics and visualised myself on a training run at the Samedan airport in St. Moritz. Once I had exhausted that mental strategy I thought of myself as a little girl running cross-country in Naracoorte, S.A. I had received two folders full of letters and drawings from the Naracoorte Primary School students prior to leaving for Europe which I absorbed and stored in my memory bank for inspiration during for moments like this one.

After about 3 kilometres the steady climb levelled out and at this point I expected the pack to start clipping at my heels. I allowed my legs to flow at a relaxed effort on the gradual descent. As anticipated, I started to hear the sounds of feet tapping the road to my left but the pace was not as aggressive as I thought it would be at this point. The next drink station was located just before the 19km mark. I enthusiastically tore open my next gel and consumed it along with my water and electrolyte mix. A pack of women surged towards a short but sharp hill and became my target for the second of three notable climbs. I passed through 20kms in twelfth position and slowly but steadily edged my way back to the main pack. At this point Hassan was sitting just behind the main group and it was hard to tell whether she was carrying much fatigue from her recent 5,000m and 10,000m races. I crested the hill with the pack close behind. The athletes in it seemed to be taking a conservative approach to the sharp descent and I questioned whether to drop back and tuck into the pack or to allow my legs to flow down the hill. Seconds later I heard the uplifting sound of my teammate Gen’s voice. “It’s me! I’ll lead the next km and then we can rotate so you don’t have to work on your own up the front.” Essentially she was saying, “You can have a physical and mental rest for a bit”. What a gem. I was so happy to be running next to Gen and told her that the pack had been surging and slowing so I had been trying to keep the pace even.

It wasn’t long before the pack accelerated towards the 22.5km water tables. A small breakaway formed with Dakotah Lindwurm from the U.S leading the charge. The sudden change of pace didn’t surprise me but felt a bit hot. Instead of going with it I tried to maintain an effort that felt right for me at this point in the race. By the 25km mark I was sitting in 20th position (1:26:45) and was 11 seconds behind the main pack. I exchanged a few words with Gen along the lines of “let’s stay as smooth as possible through here”. At one point we also said “how cool is this : )”. Ryan shouted words of encouragement to both of us from his bike. We both new that the ‘rollercoaster’ hill was approaching. Fatigue was starting to trickle into my legs but I thought of the Aussie Marathon men’s words – “Its going to be hard for everyone. You just have to find a way to get up it.” We rounded a bend and the climb ahead of us emerged. It stood boldly as a symbol of the Marathon event itself. It demanded respect. I didn’t know whether to look up at the road ahead or down at my feet. Gardadi from Morocco, who I remembered from the 2023 Budapest World Championships cruised past me at the base of the hill and Woldu was in the near distance. I needed to run within myself and focus on maintaining a steady effort. Alice Bacqui had suggested I used the “posterior pelvic tilt” cue uphill and that is what I did. It felt as though I was barely moving forward at some points but as long as the gap wasn’t growing between me and the other two women ahead, I was happy. Both sides of the road were lined with roaring spectators and I also noticed the occasional cyclist or runner testing themselves on the climb along the footpath.

I approached the top of the climb with great relief and burning glutes. Pat had spoken about the sudden change in muscle groups required for the downhill versus the uphill section. I noticed a marked shift in load from my hamstrings and glutes to my quadriceps muscles as I let my legs roll down the uncomfortably steep descent. I enjoyed this section of the course and tried to relax as much as possible, thinking “run free”. I made an effort to take in my surroundings and particularly enjoyed spotting Australian flags and supporters. The final 10kms went by in a blur and before long I could see the Eiffel Tower ahead. My legs felt weary but powerful. When I captured the odd kilometre split on my Garmin, I noticed that it lined up with the Marathon pace that I had been practising in training. At 35.5km I looked out for Dylan and the kids as I knew he had planned to cheer at this point. Whilst I didn’t spot them I felt some particularly loud cheers at one point. The familiar faces of my team mate Matt Clarke and his wife Annie emerged in the crowd as I descended into a long and dark tunnel. All I could only hear was the sound of my feet hitting the road and my breath. It offered a rare opportunity to gather my thoughts in silence and make sure I savoured the final six kilometres of this race. The crowds cheers erupted on the other side like a wave striking the shore. I guessed that I might be in about fifteenth place but had no idea. The Eiffel Tower loomed above and whilst I didn’t have the energy to look up, I felt its magical presence.

PHOTO CREDIT: ANTONIN COTEL (@antonin_sans.h)

2.2 KILOMETRES TO GO

At the 40km drink station Collis yelled out “you’re coming fifteenth”. I saw a runner in the distance. I was determined to catch her and hopefully secure fourteenth – one of my favourite numbers. I decided to consume half of my ‘only if you feel like it’ gel and to focus on my form. As the mental demands grew I started reflecting on the sixteen Marathons that I had run since 2012 to distract myself from the discomfort. The crowds started to deepen and the roars grew. I edged my way into 14th and realised that the runner ahead was also within reach. With a couple of minutes to go I was able to sneak past the Spanish runner. I couldn’t see the home straight but hoped it was around the next corner. I stepped onto the blue carpet and knew the finish line must have been near. As we rounded a bend I felt someone move past me. The shock kicked me into gear and I found a quicker pace that I didn’t know I had in me. With arms swinging hard and a laboured breath I moved towards the grand finisher’s arch as swiftly as I could. I had been visualising this finish in front of the Esplanade Des Invalides for weeks but in the moment I couldn’t appreciate the spectacular view.

PHOTO CREDIT: STEPH DRIVER (@a_cupful_of_hearts)

13th place.

A big team effort.

A course that I will remember forever - for all of the right reasons.

It was a moment of bliss when I hugged Gen at the finish line and heartbreak when we heard that Sinead had not finished the race. Conquering 42.195kms requires a lot of variables to line up, which is why the Marathon has the potential to provide great satisfaction. On the flip side, preparation for this event demands so much from runners without guaranteeing the joy of chasing the blue line right to the finish.

I felt a strong sense of fulfilment when I spotted my elated family members in the finisher’s area - they had all played a significant role in this result as had Adam, Team Tempo and my entire support team at home. I was happy with the way I had competed and even happier to have been able to share the experience with so many loved ones. I left the finisher’s chute with an even greater love for the Marathon event and the city of Paris.

Thanks for your support.

Jess Xo