What Else am I Capable Of? My UTA22 Journey

A year before lining up at the start of the UTA22, I had never run a kilometer in my life. What followed was a whirlwind of postpartum recovery, grief, breast implant surgery, sleepless nights, trail running firsts and a whole lot of self-discovery. The UTA22 didn't go exactly to plan, but it gave me something I wasn't expecting…….proof that I'm capable of far more than I ever imagined.

In March 2025, I had a VBAC (vaginal birth after caesarian) and it changed me in ways I wasn't expecting. Of course I was incredibly grateful for the birth itself, but what surprised me most was the overwhelming sense of confidence it gave me. For the first time in a long time, I felt truly capable. I felt strong, resilient and connected to my body. After years of infertility, IVF, pregnancy, recovery, breastfeeding and navigating motherhood, I suddenly found myself wondering what else I might be capable of if I stopped putting limits on myself.

I remember sitting at home with my newborn, scrolling through social media and watching videos from the Ultra-Trail Australia weekend. As I watched runners making their way through the Blue Mountains, tackling impossibly long climbs and incredible distances, I found myself thinking, I could do that.

Looking back, it was a fairly outrageous thought. At that point I had never run a single kilometer in my life. Not one. Yet the idea lodged itself firmly in my mind and refused to leave.

Just a few months later, life took an unexpected turn. In June 2025, shortly after his 60th birthday, my dad passed away suddenly from a heart attack. His death was a huge shock. He was someone I had always seen as strong, healthy and full of life. He had plans for the future, things he wanted to do and places he wanted to go. Losing him forced me to confront how fragile life really is.

As I worked through my grief, I felt a growing need to make some changes in my own life. I wanted to prioritise my health and wellbeing. I wanted an outlet for the sadness and shock I was carrying. I wanted something challenging to work towards. The UTA22 felt like the perfect goal. It would help me heal mentally through physical activity while also giving me a reason to keep showing up for myself.

Postpartum recovery had not been particularly straightforward. I was dealing with significant diastasis recti and a hernia, both of which caused a lot of back pain. I had also gained around 25 kilograms during each of my pregnancies. Thankfully, I was fortunate enough to lose that weight within about eight months both times through normal daily activity and breastfeeding, but I was still rebuilding strength and confidence in my body and this time, it felt much harder than the first time around.

As soon as UTA entries opened, I signed up.

I started training around November, my body hadn’t felt ready until then. Not long after, I hit an unexpected hurdle. My breast implants which were around ten years old didn't appreciate my new running hobby. My right implant migrated towards the centre of my chest and I ultimately needed surgery to have them removed in December. To make things even more interesting, I was still exclusively breastfeeding at the time (awch).

The surgery meant taking a few weeks off from the training I had only just begun but once I was able to return to running, I got straight back into it.

I was slow. Very slow. But with each run I became more confident. My pace hardly mattered because every week I was discovering I could go a little further than I thought. I still vividly remember the first time I ran 16 kilometres. I was so proud of myself that I cried… like, actually cried. It wasn't about the distance itself, it was about what the distance represented. Less than a year earlier I had never considered myself a runner (or sporty at all), and now I was running 16 kilometres!

A few months later, after roughly six hours of very broken sleep, one of my mum friends and I decided we'd attempt our own self-directed half marathon. Looking back, it seems slightly unhinged but we did it. Crossing that arbitrary 21.1 kilometer mark gave me a huge boost in confidence. For the first time, I really TRULY believed I could finish the UTA22.

This confidence existed despite the fact that my entire trail running experience consisted of exactly one 14-kilometer trail run 3 weeks before the race.

Two weeks before race day I developed significant pain in my right knee and hip. Unsure what was causing it, I decided the smartest thing to do was rest completely leading into the race. I hoped that whatever was brewing would settle down before I reached the start line.

Race morning arrived and I felt amazing.

The atmosphere in Katoomba was electric. Everywhere I looked there were runners, spectators and volunteers buzzing with excitement. Standing at the start line with my husband and brother-in-law, who were both tackling their first trail race too, felt incredibly special. We were all nervous, excited and ready to see what the day would bring.

The first kilometer felt fantastic……….

Unfortunately, every kilometer after that became progressively more painful.

My right knee and hip started complaining almost immediately. As the course went on, the pain became more intense with every step. By the time I reached the aid station around halfway, I was still moving at a reasonable pace but I was already feeling nauseous from the pain.

I knew the second half of the race would be slow. I could already feel myself struggling to bend my leg properly on the downhills. Despite that, I made the decision not to stop. I worried that if I sat down for too long, the temptation to pull out would become too strong. I had worked too hard to get there and I wasn't willing to risk a DNF.

So I kept going.

Despite the pain, the race itself was absolutely stunning. The Blue Mountains holds a special place in our family's heart. As I ran through Jamison Valley, I found myself thinking about our second son, whose middle name is Jamison. I thought about holding him as a newborn while watching UTA videos and imagining what it would feel like to be one of those runners. It felt fitting that the baby who had unknowingly given me the confidence to pursue such a daunting goal was somehow with me in spirit as I ran through the valley that shared his name.

Eventually I reached the infamous Furber Steps.

Somewhere around 1,000 stairs stood between me and the finish line.

By that stage my leg no longer struggled only on the descents. It barely wanted to bend at all. I climbed every single step for the rest of the race leading with the same leg, one slow step after another.

Then I heard it.

Cowbells.

Cheering.

The finish line!

I felt tears immediately well up in my eyes. In that moment I knew I had done it! It didn't matter how slowly I was moving or how much pain I was in. I was going to finish!

My husband, brother-in-law and sister were there cheering as I limped across the finish line. It was one of the proudest moments of my life.

Not long afterwards, some very kind physiotherapists collected me and escorted me to the medical tent. They explained that the excruciating pain was most likely caused by my ITB and worked their very painful magic to get me moving again. They reassured me that with some rest and the right strengthening work, things would improve, and they gave me advice on preventing it from happening again.

The race didn't unfold the way I had imagined. I hadn't planned on hobbling to the finish line or spending time in the medical tent afterwards. But in some ways, that made the experience even more meaningful.

UTA22 was never really about running the perfect race.

It was about grief, healing and growth.

It was about proving to myself that I am capable of doing hard things.

It was about showing up anyway, even when things don't go to plan.

A year earlier I had never run a kilometer, I was recovering from childbirth, navigating postpartum recovery, breastfeeding a newborn and healing from surgery. Yet somehow I found myself standing at the finish line of one of Australia's most iconic trail races.

Once again, my body amazed me.

And as I reflected on everything that had happened over the previous twelve months, I found myself asking the same question that has driven this whole journey……

What else am I capable of?

I guess time will tell.