Take It There

Melbourne, Spring: plastic wrap from building sites flutter like orphaned kites in the trees on King Street, discarded coffee cups and detritus swirl in eddies in the endless laneways and alleys, and everyone huddles deeper into hooded overcoats to escape the lazy wind. It is supposed to be warming up, the earth resuming its tilt northwards again, yet the season reminds us that winter is not yet finished in this part of the world.

View on the way back to Anglesea from the south
(Photo courtesy of Surf Coast Century)

With this in mind, we make our way south towards Anglesea for Surf Coast Century 2017 (SCC), the talk invariably steers towards the weather. The rain of the week leading up has churned the trails up. Normally reliably dry well-drained tracks will be muddy, a section of a muddy 4WD track is not looked on with much favouritism at all (indeed organisers divert the course after deeming it too rough and unsafe). SCC in early September is not exactly zinc cream and boardies, but it shouldn't be thick beanies, fluffy hooded coats and thermals either.

I finally ran here last year after 2 previous aborted attempts (both through injury, both from rolled ankles, predictably on both feet), being the second half of a team with Chrissy and I running our first ultras. (read here). Schedule and course change for the solo 50 this year made it very enticing indeed to return. A respectable 10:00am start, and on the same course as legs 3 & 4 where the 100k runners also go through. Added bonus meant that because of the mass start at Anglesea, we didn't have to crawl under the bridge on the Great Ocean Road like the 100k and teams runners (apologies to those, did it last year, know how undignified it really is). Being injured and not running at the start of the year meant that it was going to be a close run thing to get myself prepared for the 50. Through good planning, a comprehensive rehab programme, some astute decision making re running returns and good ol lady luck, I managed to get myself to the start line at Maroondah Dam in April for the first race in the 30k Mountain series. It was an ugly and tough start, my body not really fit and strong enough to cope with the climbing and descending. I was battered and mentally a bit fragile afterwards, but knew it was all part of the journey of the comeback.

Armed with a strength and conditioning plan from my gym at work, and a more targeted running programme to deal with my longer working days, I set about pushing forward to SCC. A month out from the race (and a fortnight out from my lead-up at Wonderland) I ran in the Dandenongs, tacking on another few k to the group run to help prepare me. A run with Vic Ultra Runners from Warburton to Lilydale in early July had also been crucial in getting my endurance back up to scratch. All in all, I thought I was ready. Cue winter head cold the day after Dandies run. Always inevitable this time of year. It wasn't particularly bad, I could run, up to the point it went to my chest, but was never floored by it. Nevertheless, it impacted my training, my health and fitness, and arrested the momentum I had building up to the race, as well as denting the mental positives. Undeterred, I felt I was still in good shape and looked forward to the race.

Things went pear shaped fairly early, as they do. I'm not going to blame the cold, lingering but pretty much gone by race day, or any other issues, other than it just wasn't happening on the day. The following is a bit of a rough guide to my race;

Amanda, myself and Belle yaking before the start
(Photo credit: Samantha Wilson)

Race Day

Alarm set for 7 (how luxurious is that for an ultra start?). Turned phone on and immediately get a notification of a missed call only 5 minutes earlier from friend Caz running the first leg in a relay team. Thinking, “Oh shit, what's happened”, I calmly text back enquiring if everything's okay. Within a minute Caz calls back “Fucking hate this sand, fucking hate these slippery rocks, fucking hate being held up behind runners!!” Pause…. “Just wanted to vent, see ya” And terminates the phone call. People unfamiliar with Caz may think this was a bit wrong, but it made me laugh knowing her as I do. I also probably thought it's nice to know my day might not be that bad. Whoops...

Despite the relaxed start, I was late getting to the start and getting dressed/prepared/focused. Shit, shit, and double shit. Nothing like a bit of mild stress beforehand. Met Chris Spano, who was going to crew for me, and his mate Nick before we headed down to the beach for the start.

Bumped into 4 friends, 3 of whom were all running their first ultras, Michelle Acorn, Michelle Harris, Amanda Lacey the first timers, and the battle hardened Hoka evangelist Belle Campbell, a fave and inspirational trail running friend of mine. Hugs, greetings, a bit of banter with them and a number of others before the countdown and then we were off.

Race Start

Beach start in bright sunshine and a brisk breeze, run 100m to a flag then back through the start arch with the public lined up the cheer us through. Always gets the adrenaline pumping. Within 400 metres though we had to cross an inlet to get to the northern side and the path. My plan was just to barrel through, as it was for 90% of the field. Several others opted to stop, peel off shoes and socks, wade through only to redress on the other side. Each to their own I thought, although considering my shoes and socks were dry within several k's wondered at that wisdom. (And there was more mud and water further on)

Annette and Michelle Harris at the start.
(Photo credit: Samantha Wilson)

First few k's uneventful. Passed eventual women's 100k winner Kylee Woods about 2k in. Poor thing having to trot uphill as the main pack of 50's streamed past. The 100k started at 5:30 am, Kylee, having been running for just over 4 and a half hours, but still looking good (she would eventually catch and pass me when my troubles started).

The first section of the course is a mixture of road and trail, the really sweet single trail not starting until after the 10k mark. Passed a fellow Lysterfield Trail Runner (LTR) Lee Edison as he was walking up the first major climb. Polite enquiry revealed he was not going well. Just said to him to hang in there, still enough time for things to come good, and I continued on.

Along one of the trails had a peek behind to see Belle not that far behind on a climb, thinking she was going to have a good day. Amanda was not too far behind with the Michelles just behind her.

The trails along here were resplendent in floral blooms of Common Heath, aka Epacris impressa. The red bell shaped flowers were in full display as we ran past. Interestingly, it was proclaimed the floral emblem of Victoria on 11 November 1958, the state being the first in Australia to give official recognition to such an emblem. See, you can learn things reading my blog. It's not all fart jokes and pop culture references!

Approaching the 3k climb to (?), I started to notice my heart rate spiking and the slow loss of energy in my body. I was expecting this, but not until at least somewhere near the 40k mark. Immediately stopped, had a gel, ate some food and that helped, but pretty soon I was feeling fatigued again.
Was passed by a huge group of 50k runners, and some team relay runners on the climb up to the trig point, a few of whom I followed into the first aid station.

Distillery Creek

The place was buzzing. Met Chris, time on my watch about 2:20, 10 or 15 behind where I expected to be, but I wasn't worried unduly. Although Chris asked me how I was and my reply elicited his reply of “that's not comforting!” Clearly, my mood and demeanour were written all over my face.

Yuckkkk, clean those bottles out Les!
(Photo credit: Chris Spano)

The section between Distillery and Moggs is my least favourite. Last year I struggled badly on this section, this year no different. It climbs quite a bit from the dam on the creek. It was here that Kylee passed me back, powering up hills that I was walking. Such an unassuming person, she was just getting the job done, was great to see. Not long after Lee came passed me. Seems a heated phone call with his wife as to which aid station to meet him at was just the tonic to spur him on! I have since been offered her phone number. Reluctant to take up that offer…

Moggs Creek (Party Central)

Coming into Moggs Creek we could hear the aid station from nearly 2k out. When you are really feeling the heat, that sound is the best. And I should have known it would be noisy being staffed by good friend Ali and her husband Jamie, it was the party central of SCC 2017! A huge hug from Ali, questions about my health, how I was going and what food I needed. All was going well until I handed over my squeezy drink bottle for a refill and she spied the black mould growing in the tube. The attached photo is priceless.

Saw Chris again, didn't change shoes as I thought my trails were doing fine. A few quick words, check my watch, 30 minutes off the pace but thoughts of a time were far, far gone by this point. It was survival pace and get it finished.

Heading out of Moggs, the trail once again climbs. This section surprised me last year, didn't quite expect this climb here. By now there are quite a few teams relay runners streaming through, very fresh and energetic having just left the aid station. Friend Drew came flying past on his leg 4 run, quick hello as we crossed paths. Closely followed by eventual 2nd place woman Nicole Paton, pushing well up the hills, but our brief discussion revealed she was REALLY looking forward to seeing the end of them! Weren't we all.

Some friends came to crew and cheer The Michelles and
Annette along. I missed all of this!
(Photo credit: Samantha Wilson)

I found this section the hardest. It was where I really started to cramp in places, it climbs, descends, climbs again, then has a fairly steep (but mercifully short) descent just before Aireys. It was along one of the climbs near the water treatment works that my hammy and my glute both cramped, not hard but it made my leg do weird things. Rather than swing directly through its normal arc, it wanted to veer wildly to the left. Several steps later it subsided, but left me wondering whether it was proving Newtons 2nd law, or making a mockery of it. The final steep descent to Aireys was where my right hammy cramped so hard I came to a shuddering stop. Full stretch on the side of the road, then off again. Final hill on the way to Aireys, another stunning cramp, this time calf… You know things aren't going great when you start talking to major muscle groups!

Above and beyond the normal call of vollies.
A well-timed hug from Vanessa at Aireys
(Photo credit: Bich Jennings)

The climb under the bridge at Aireys is not as legendary as at Anglesea, but for 100k runners it is probably the final straw. Bouldering sideways, trying desperately not to cramp and fall back into the shallow water really gets the adrenalin going. Followed 2 runners under here, all 3 of us laughing nervously, geeing one another along. A steep climb to the footpath, then run into the aid station. Footpath follows the main road, a car driving past has people hanging cow bells out the window, people yelling my name. Didn't recognise the car, or see who it was, but it helped lift me as I ran in.

Aireys Inlet

Never have I been so relieved to get to an aid station. I was travelling okay, could have been a lot worse, but I needed to see friends and get replacement electrolytes into my system. Friends Vanessa and Bich were volunteering here (after sweeping leg 1 in the morning, hats off ladies), and I received the biggest hugs from both. Was a bit overwhelmed, asking what I wanted, telling me I was doing fine etc. etc. A quick chat with Chris, I didn't need anything else, I was struggling, but still going okay. Drink bottle refilled, hug from friend Caz who had appeared out of nowhere (or so it seemed, she and friend Kirsten were in the car ringing cow bells!) and off I went again.

The section along here to the finish is about 14k, give or take a few hundred metres, mostly undulating, but with spectacular views. I walked to the top at the base of the lighthouse, shedding a silent tear, as much from my emotions going into overdrive after being at the aid station. So grateful to have such wonderful friends keep me going. Most of the trail here was a blur to me, most of my endearing memories are of trying to keep pace with other runners, stopping to massage out cramps, ignoring the pleas of the photographer on the uphill to 'run for the photo' (yeah, whatever….), and generally getting my mental state positive.

And for this last one, I just remembered that there were friends of mine not running today, actually unable to run at all at the moment. Chrissy and Chris Langmead, both on the long and torturous road of rehab, Chris well underway, Chrissy just starting. So the mantra started, “Chrissy and Chris”. Whenever things got low, I just repeated this, helped me pick it up and get moving again. 

Around the 45k mark the trail meanders through Mellaluca forest, saplings close to the side cut off about 10 cm above the ground, just the right height for a swinging foot to collect and set off the most electrifying of cramps in my left calf. Sweet mother of God that hurt. I could see the calf pulsing as it contorted, relaxed, contorted again. Spent about a minute massaging, then slowly walking before it behaved itself again.

Dropped down to Urqhuarts Beach at the 45k mark. Along here is 3 1/2k of sand. High tide was at 2:00pm, and I was along here at around 3:45. The sand was soft and spongy in places, but the worst is you can see right the way along to the get-off point, the full horror of the next 20+ minutes revealed in alls its leg shattering reality.

A couple of 100k runners came behind, trying to gee me up and run with them, but all I could do along here was run as far as possible, walk when the cramps hit, count a minute on the watch and then run again. As tough as it was getting, I was okay mentally. Probably relishing the internal mental battle I was having, as well as knowing I was nearing Anglesea where icy cold beer awaited me.

Eventual 4th place women Cecile climbed up the stairs off the beach with me. She was proposed to by her boyfriend at the finish line, that being the 2nd best feeling of the day. #1 probably being getting off that sodding beach! Then a long slow grind up a dirt road. By now we are getting glimpses of houses on the outskirts of Anglesea and there is a steady stream of runners coming through.

One last climb, then down we run past the surf club, and onto the beach where we first started over 6 hours ago. Running along the beach, Trish Yates screaming out my name, giving me a hi 5 before I turned back towards the finish line. As I approached the finish, crowds were lining both sides of the path, clapping and cheering; I felt like a rock star. If only I hadn't cramped 50 metres out, I might have actually looked like one...

Anglesea, and the finish line

Finally, after 6 hours and 24 minutes, I crossed the finish line, a rueful smile on my face thinking about the day I'd just had. Greeted by friends, medal draped over my neck, I was in pain from the effort and cramping, but I was glad I'd stuck it out when it got really tough.

It only took me a few minutes to realise how cold it was. Shivering and feeling very uncomfortable I found my gear bag and started to get changed into something warm. It took me several goes as first Belle finished, then Amanda, then Michelle Acorn. I kept getting up to great them, go back and get another item Belle had spent most of the race battling gamely with ITB issues, surely some of the worst pain to deal with in a race. Amanda had been ill, cramped and nearly pulled out at Moggs, but continued on like me and toughed it out. Michelle Acorn had the run of her life. Finally dispelling all the mental demons and putting together a perfectly executed race, finishing in 7 hrs.

Michelle Acorn and I at the finish. So proud and happy for her after a great run.

Post Race, the wash-up

So, first time cramping in 2 years. What does it tell me? Probably time to rethink nutrition and hydration for these events. I've been using Tailwind and occasional supplement with gels, but recently have felt the taste of the Tailwind has prevented me getting enough in during an event. I had a cold the month leading up, whilst not bad, it may have had some bearing, but I'm not willing to admit that completely. It was warmer than I anticipated. Showering that night I was horrified at the amount of sweat that came out of my hair, and although I'm a 'healthy' sweater, this was slightly out of the ordinary.

Will I come back? Halfway through the race I was “Never doing another ultra again”, “Stuff this for a joke” etc. After a few days, I'm already plotting a return campaign for next year! But the day wasn't a complete loss. It is still my fastest 50k time, mentally I was able to use strategies to keep going, and every time I complete one of these I improve from the one before. It's all a learning path, we never truly know it all, never truly find our upper limits. Indeed, as I type this on my laptop on a Wednesday afternoon on the train home, a friend is two-thirds through a 320km running odyssey in France, with 24000 metres of climbing thrown in. He's been running since late Sunday our time, still with 100k to go. The mind is truly a beautiful thing if it can help sustain a physical entity through such a journey.

Finally, well done to all who ran 100, 50, teams, crewed, volunteered, and organised Surf Coast Century 2017. It was a wonderful event. I would particularly like to thank Chris Spano for following me around at all the check points, Ali Moxham, Vanessa Hueser and Bich Jennings for the personalised support at the aid stations, Chris J and his family for having me at the most excellent of digs for the weekend with Ash, and Caz for friendship, entertainment and banter. Finally to my wife Nicky for having to put up with my borderline obsession with running, thank so much xx

Winners are grinners! And check who's already got post race beverage in hand 😀

Until next time...

Fitter Happier

Another Wonderland race completed, another bright shiny medal to go with the other bright shiny medals in my collection.
But this race is more than just bling collection. Run by Rohan Day, Michael Clarke and Matt Bell (through the Big Long Run company), the attention to detail, the support of the runners and vollies, the vibe that is created and the area it is held in (the magnificent Halls Gap and Grampian Mountains area in Victoria), make this a must do event. But be warned, it's not for the faint hearted. The 36k (with a little extra...) goes over Mt. Rosea, and the rock scrambling in places will slow the progress, max out the quads and hammies, and batter you before the long flat sections on the Bellfield run home. Every year I turn up knowing that when I finish I will wish I had trained harder and more specifically for the event. And this year? No different.

An outstanding view on our climb up to The Pinnacle. (Photo credit: Caz Derby)

Friday Night

Got a lift up with Matt and Caz. road trips to races are usually uneventful affairs, get on the road, make sure the car and occupants are fueled and in good shape. This trip not exactly so. Stopped at the BP Ballan, bain-marie and Maccas being to only options available. Caz, having to watch her diet for particular foodstuffs, opted for a Maccas without onion and potato cakes. The best of a bad lot. Unfortunately, they didn't agree with her. The 3 of us were sleeping in bunks, at 2:30 in the morning I was woken up by Caz telling me she was unwell and going for a walk. Half asleep I briefly wondered why walking might help, then fell asleep again. Woke up the next morning to find Caz asleep on the couch having been up half the night vomiting. Whoops... Sorry mate. Thankfully it was food related, rather than good ol' gastro.

Saturday

Volunteers get into the spirit of the weekend. Jacqui, Tony,
and Sue on Saturday (Photo credit: Warwick King)

The weekend is more than just my race. In an acknowledgment of the fact many families make the 3hr trek from Melbourne (and a few more from elsewhere) to Halls Gap, there are 2k and 8k races on the Saturday for the kids and adults not crazy enough to take on the 20 or 36 on the Sunday. the Saturday, setting up the start/finish, and then handing out finishers medals (my absolute favourite vollie role). Getting to hand out medals is great in that I get to meet so many runners, many of them friends, but also to see many first timers complete their first race, and first trail race. Watching the kids run the 2k event is fantastic, so many enthusiastic children with supportive and positive parents.
Interestingly though, there are a number of runners who double up with races. Either the 2 and the 8 on Saturday, the 8 on Saturday and the 20 on Sunday, or if truly really keen, the 8 and 36 double! I elected to help Volunteer on

One of my fave friends ran on Saturday
(Photo credit: Tan Marie)

Unfortunately, the weather wasn't kind to us on the Saturday, as the rain and cold hung around and then finally engulfed the area in the mid afternoon. But still it was held in good spirits, most if not all realising it is winter, it is the Grampians, weather like this is always to be expected.
The rest of the afternoon spent back at the accommodation with Paul from Baw Baw Runners watching the Wallabies nearly spring a surprise on the All Blacks in the rugby, only for the wretched bastards to score a try with 3 minutes left. Oh well, run angry tomorrow I thought.

Sunday

Last year, the weather was atrocious. On the Saturday night the wind blew, the rain poured, and we all probably awoke at some point and what the hell we'd got ourselves in for. The Sunday dawned calmer but the rain persisted and it will go down as a very wet and cold run. Roll forward a year and the weather overnight is similar. Wind, rain in buckets, but thankfully the day dawned clear and cold, with the promise of a mainly fine day.

Mandatory gear check before the start with
Matt Bell (Photo credit: Kim Day)

Having secured a house close to the start line, Paul and I packed our gear and walked down to the start area to drop bags off for safe keeping and get ready for a 7:00am start. As happens at these races, they turn into a massive social event. Meeting many friends and acquaintances, and people I know through Facebook and running forums. Pushed my way into the starting chute, nervous banter and laughter from all of us. Moved forward to catch up with a few other Dandenong Trail Runners (DTR), and decided to stay there in the first wave of runners going out. This is reserved for those of us who think they will be doing a faster time. Last year I deliberately held back to the 2nd wave, knowing full well my interrupted training plan was going to leave me struggling on the climbs. This year I was confident, the training had been consistent, and I had run plenty of hills and long runs to get me through.
Finally, the countdown came, the horn went off, and the first wave went on it's merry way. First few k's have bottlenecks, single track that is impossible to pass, with a couple of sharp climbs that slow runners much like traffic slows near an accident. I was followed along here by Karl and Andrew of DTR, and Karl and I chatted about how we were both running Surf Coast Century in 13 days (13 days! Sheeeet… ). He the 100, me the 50. And many other runners were also going to backup in 13 days time. For all us, getting through unscathed was likely to be target #1. Once the trail widened out and the runners started to sort themselves out, we could run patches, walk others and generally make solid progress towards The Pinnacle. Chatting to and passing a few runners (my climbing was on point for the day), made for a nice climb to the first peak. It was uneventful, or so it seemed.

Every year I wonder why it takes me 30 minutes to get to The Pinnacle.
Every year I see these photos and understand why.
(Offical event photography: SuperSport Images)

As we approached the Pinnacle, a droning sound became evident. Bec Howes husband Steve, was flying his drone and taking video of the runners as we climbed and continued on our way to Sundial carpark. There was quite the crowd up here, people heading on to the viewing platform for selfies and group photos, the rest of us heading along the trail. It was here that disaster (or so I thought at the time) struck. The trail goes towards the base of the viewing platform then turns right at 90 degrees. I had peeled slightly right to take a different line, turned my left foot to take the next step when the foot just slipped and shot out behind me. I plummeted face first towards the granite, only just getting my hands down in time to break my fall. Nothing like kissing the rock at speed! All seemed okay, even though my left knee had clattered into the rock. Stood up, Karl asked if I was okay, said I was, and we descended on the trail. A quick look at my knee revealed a nasty gash, blood flowing supremely down towards my shoe. I was shattered, to say the least, more so thinking of SCC50 rather than this race. But after a few minutes of running there was no pain at all, only the feeling of the open wound and the warm blood seeping out.
We strode on, Karl and Andrew still with me as we passed Sundial (the first of several aid stations), then ran on to where the 20k runners split left, and we 36'ers headed right to Rosea carpark. I was finding it very comfortable along here, chatting with Karl about SCC and other running related stuff. It passed the time. Ran over 'my spot' where I achieved the dubious honour of being the only runner ever to complete the unadvertised Wonderland 10k event in  2015 (read here). Hit Rosea carpark aid station. Friend and DTR Warwick was volunteering here, encouraging us and taking photos as we passed through. Beyond the road is the start of the climb to Rosea, winding single track that steadily climbs enough that the walk/run strategy is in place. Stopped along here for my first gel and Karl and Andrew ran ahead. By the time we hit the rocky climb to the summit, I'd caught them and Stephen Davis, a line of 4 DTR crew snaking their way to the top.

DTR invades Rosea carpark. Karl, myself,
and Andrew. (Photo credit: Warwick King)

The weather, whilst still fine, turned decidedly colder on this stretch. The wind was the main factor. Not enough to make you stop and put a jacket or thermal on, but enough to know that if you had to stop, you would get very cold, very quickly. The views though were outstanding. Take my word because I didn't stop to take photos, just wanted to get to the top asap and get the descent underway. As we approached the summit, it was mostly walking, with the occasional burst of running. It wasn't so much the ascent, as it was the path. Rocky and uneven at best, a bit of scrambling at the worst. Run and slip here, almost certainly a disaster of a high magnitude. It twisted, and turned and in places you had to duck under a rock, then stop and peer around you to make sure you had the trail in sight. As interesting as this section was, the best was yet to come!
Just before the summit of Rosea, I was caught up by another runner, someone I didn't know, but he looked familiar, and I looked familiar to him. We chatted at length about running, future events, this event etc. So much so that we both ran past a rather large sign pointing us towards the track to Borough Huts. Half way to Rosea lookout we realised our error. Turned around to trudge back down, turning back a couple of other runners but also watching a stream of other runners get in front of us. More rock hopping, a bit of running then we hit the section of stone steps that mark the top of the descent to Borough Huts and a well-anticipated aid station. This section is worth the entry price alone. 6k of flowing trail on a mild gradient. After the slow and ponderous progress of the last 2+ hours, it was great to stretch the legs out. Down we went, DTR friend Stephen Davis in front of me after a few k, we steadily dropped back down towards the back of Bellfield. Last year I was in and around a large group, this year only a few of us, so not much chat (missed you, Bec Howe!).

Across the top was less running, more scrambling. The path at times becomes vague and indistinguishable from everything else! (Photo Credit: Alan Cleveralias!)

Arrived at Borough Huts in good shape. Certainly better than last year where I arrived thinking that now would be a good time to finish. Grabbed another gel (Vfuel, of course), aid station coordinator extraordinaire Bernie offered to clean up my bloody knee. I kindly declined, knee was fine. Taz from Phillip Island runners was there, taking photos of my damaged leg, but also giving words of encouragement (they were not forgotten, thanks Taz). After a few minutes, I pulled out of there and started on the long trek back to the finish.
Having done this last year, I was well aware of the mental toughness needed here, and that if I was done physically, it was a long way to home. First few k's out, I felt good. Nice steady pace, we were on the side of the road until we turned towards the eastern side of the lake on the dirt road. The road climbs very gently here, enough to let you know, but not enough that running is difficult. I had Stephen in front of me again shortly afterward along here, and it made me keep up and keep him in my sights. I was steeling myself for the first of 4 'pinches'. Number 1 arrived. I'd vowed that I would walk it, regardless of how I felt. No problems with that decision, what a bastard of an incline at that point of the run. Knocks the momentum out of everything.
Crested the hill and set off to start running again. And that is when I discovered my legs had decided, “bugger this” and had disappeared off to Rio, leaving me with a pair of useless stick-like appendages, not good for much else. But, the mind was still willing. I shuffled on, the pace pretty much gone, but I moved forward out of sheer pigheadedness.

See photographer, suck it up and pose
(Offical event photography: SuperSport Images)

Caught up with Stephen for the next 'pinch', and we adopted a run/walk strategy through this and the next 2. We chatted a bit, ran a bit, walked a bit, but really we were both just moving as fast as we could towards Halls Gap. One pleasing feature was the weather was still nice, even a bit warmish at times, and the views over the lake we lovely. Whilst not the most inspiring section of the run, the sounds, the smells, the squelching of mud under the shoe, all make it a rich and rewarding experience.
As we approached Brambuk and the wet grassy plains, the track goes downhill quite rapidly. My legs, sore and tight after all the climbs, weren't happy here. They'd returned from Rio just to complain about it. Stephen got away from me here, I nearly caught him at the aid station, but beyond that point my race was pretty much me on auto-pilot just getting it done, ugly and nearly effective, but done all the same. Photographer around the corner was the cue to run again, then I had to stop, compose myself and get going again. I forgot about the steps along here, coppers logs, about a metre across, very difficult on tired legs. It seemed like an age to get to Delleys Bridge, and any thoughts I had about doing a 4:45 started to seriously evaporate along here. And then the heavens opened. I hadn't even spied the cloud coming across. One moment it was sunny, the next raining and cold.

Don't like the weather in Victoria? Come back in 10 minutes!
Left to right: Kylie (sun), Sue (sun), Paul (sun), Narelle (sun), Tim (light rain), Me (pissing down), Diana (rain easing)
(Photo credit: Belinda Roffey)

Hit Delleys, finally. Greeted by a friendly face of Belinda Roffey, taking photos and urging me on that I was nearly there. I knew it was close, but I was cooked. Hit the concrete footpath beyond the bridge and gave myself a mental spray to just get on with it. Once I started running again, I was okay. Mentally picking up, knowing the finish was just over a k around the corner. 2 women passed me, Kerry Schilke, and Jennine. Both gave me brief words of encouragement, as I gave some back. Trail runners are incredibly supportive, why I love this sport so much. Turned the final corner, recognised many familiar landmarks, and mapped out the path home.
Many friends along here yelling and clapping. The finish is up the main street (on the footpath), and it is a great way to finish a race. Tired legs and minds somehow pull out one last mighty effort to bring it home strong. And I did, 15 minutes faster than last year and with the feeling that despite the late race fade, I was much stronger and fitter than this time last year.
Finish, bling draped over my neck, then the most awesome hug from friend Narelle (has become a bit of a Wonderland tradition!), and then I smashed down 4 cups of coke. Don't normally drink it, but after this, give me sugar and caffeine, and give it to me NOW!

Post Race

The DTR Memorial First Aid Room at the Halls Gap community centre!
Myself, Stephen, Karl (just visiting), and Shawn.
(Photo credit: Helen Jane Davis)

Having run 33k of the race with a bloodied knee, I decided maybe it was time to get it cleaned up. Saunter into the first aid room only to be greeted by the staff there, “Hello Les, welcome back!”. Bastards know me by name. And in here were 3 other DTR members, 2 of whom were requiring attention. Indeed, the chair I was sitting in had just been vacated by a former DTR Naralle! The DTR injury squad was in full swing. CJ from LTR stuck his head in briefly, alarmed after hearing I was once again in first aid at Wonderland, saw the cut on my knee, laughed and buggered off again! On the way out I got a “See you at Two Bays” send off from the first aid guys. Very funny boys, very funny...
Sunday night at Wonderland is curryoke, curry and karaoke. A great night some great entertainment, some terrific singing (not from me...), and the best way to wind down after a hard race. Slept well that night.

Monday

Lift back to Melbourne with Caz Derby (a different Caz 😄), great chat and banter to wind down after the weekend, and then back to reality for all of us. Another weekend in the Grampians over, already talking about coming back for 2018. No DOMS really, just that guttural groan every time Caz and I got in and out of her car! Knee feeling good too, just the pain of the cut, no bruising of flaoting kneecap to really put a dampener on the weekend.

What Next?

This was the first race in a block of 3 covering 7 weeks. Next is Surf Coast Century 50 on September 9th, followed 5 weeks later by Melbourne Marathon. It's an ambitious plan, and recovery sessions the key here, far more important than any hard and brutal training runs. Given where I was on 1st January, not running and in pain, it is simply enough that I can make the start line of these events, let alone do well in them.

Post this image every year, never looks any easier!
And notice the "37.5 km at 0%"? Distance is value for money, and it's a flat run (elevation gain = descent!)

Until next time...

Long & Lost

Macedon 30k Trail Race

They say the darkest hour is before the dawn, and I approached my own dawn here. Midway through my latest race, the self-doubts started to creep in, negative thought piling on negative thought until I wondered what the fuck I was doing out there.

Brett Saxons touch I'm presuming.
PborWall is replaced (temporarily)

Usually a fairly positive chappie (have to be running trail races and ultras), I fell to every runner's nemesis, the inner demons. And sitting here, laptop on hand, heater going, it's hard to fathom why it all started, and why it hit at that particular point.

Race brief, a large crowd on a very cold but clear morning.

Sunday was race day. One of my favourite races, the Macedon 30k. Fourth year back to do this, and considering my horrendous run of injuries over the last 2 1/2 years, it is utterly surprising that I've had such a continued presence here. Macedon is tough, really tough. Elevation profile alone is impressive, but add in the technical, and at times twisty trail and the factor of difficulty increases substantially. And I know this, having documented this firstly here (Ground on Down), and then here (Wave of Mutilation), and if you've really nothing else to do, here (Short Memory). I know how hard this is (why I come back), also because it's such a fabulous place to run, and it is a well organised and fun event. Brett Saxon and his team put on a great event, always a joy to participate.

So, how did I get to this dark place? I'd started the run well, conservatively trying to pace myself for the distance, and knowing there was a significant climb (runnable) back to the finish line. I had memorised some time splits of sections of the course (Camels Hump, Aid Station #2, #3 etc.) mainly to gauge my progress. I wasn't trying to beat any previous time, just a way to see what was happening on the day. The first 8/9k's was fairly unremarkable, give for seeing the frontrunners in the 50k event come flying past in the opposite direction between Macedon Road crossing, and Days Picnic area. Whilst running an hour and a half before me, they were running faster than I was at the present....
Passed through Barringo Road. aid station (#2) roughly on time from last year. Feeling good, had a chat with a few people along the way, then ended up coming up behind friend Andrea from DTR, and another female runner (Sabbrina?). All 3 of us heading towards the first steep descent, having some fun 'negotiating' the path down. Basically trying to go as fast as we can, whilst maintaining some semblance of control. Once again, bottom out, then the even steeper incline towards aid station #3.

The pine forest; mtb jumps, twisty technical trials, and where my dark mood took hold.
Photo credit: Chrissy Good

Here was fine, it was once I exited the station and headed into the pines that things started to unravel, somewhat. Always an interesting section to run, it twists and turns, and parts climbs, then drops down again, then climbs. First time I ran here in 2014, I hated it. But subsequent years it grew on me. But on this day I just felt as if this was the start of my struggles. Physically a bit, mentally a lot. Self-doubt crept in as I thought forward to races I've already entered, Surf Coast Century 50, Tarawera 62, thinking that there was no way I could do them. "Couldn't even get through 11k of a 30" etc etc. Didn't help that I'd run myself into a lone position, no-one really around me. At the end of the pines was a Baringo Road, a gentle downhill section back to the #2 aid station. Normally an easy run down, I found it was just not happening. Passed a few runners down here, and normally I would exchange a few words with them, whether I knew them or not. But I didn't, and that told me what frame of mind I was in. Beyond here is a favourite section, single track downhill bash towards a fire trail, which then leads back onto Barringo Road again. Previous years I have flown down here. It can be fun, and also a little bit hairy as you gain speed then have to negotiate the turns, right where a tree is strategically placed to arrest your momentum, should you not actually turn...

And still, down here my mood persisted, just felt low. Started on the climb on the road to Mt. Towrong, and it was along here that I decided that I really needed to get my shit together and stop bitching inwardly about everything. I should have been celebrating the glorious weather, sharing the trail with some wonderful people, being able to do what I love to do and had missed during my long time out injured. It was halfway up this road, not a fave section, but necessary to get to one of the best sections over this side of Macedon ranges, that I bumped into Tim Fleahy. We had crossed paths at SCC, Tim doing the 100, me completing legs 3 & 4 in a team. We shared the road along here, chatting about all things running, training programmes missed or light-on, races to be run. Whatever it was, maybe taking my mind off things, but my mood lifted considerably. Run through the single trail beyond the summit of Mt. Towrong, then for the first time in 4 years we (all the runners), were treated to an outstanding vista across the south of the park towards Melbourne.

Weather couldn't have been better. And it made the trails look brilliant.
Photo credit: Chrissy Good

Drop down to Anzac Road, 18.5k's in, 11.5k's of mostly uphill to finish. Hit the road, and put my head down. Energy was low, but I was digging deep to keep going as much as I could. realising that I wasn't in the same shape I'd been in previous years meant that I probably walked a bit more here than I normally would. Intent on surviving and being able to finish in one piece, no injuries, ready to train for the next event was the sole focus now. Zig Zag can always be a bit of a chore, long and winding uphill, much of it at a gradient you could run it, but by now fatigued legs have made sure that isn't possible. But with the sunny conditions, and with timing the key, the sun was in a perfect position as I was running up here, giving me a glorious photo opportunity.

Climbing Zig Zag Track, the sun in our faces.

Beyond the aid station at 22k, I was just pushing as hard and as long as I could. Heart rate spiking on hills, I would keep running until it launched itself above 160. Stop running, wait for it to drop to under 150, then start again. It seemed to be the right decision at the time, and looking at previous results, my time along the last 5k's was pretty much as per those years. And it was along here, finally after 27 odd k's of trail, that I started to feel warm. By now though I couldn't be stuffed stopping and taking the thermal off! Just push on and finish.
The final run to the finish line, shout out from some friends, medal presented by Kim (thanks, such a lovely welcome back), then shuffle off and find Nicky. She had run the 10k earlier in the day and loved it. Much nicer trail than Maroondah Dam, although hillier. Get changed, yak with friends, grab a sausage, yak again, few photos, yak again, then hang around the finish line waiting for Chrissy to finish. And she did, albeit in a bit of pain, her ITB flaring again. But she loved the course, which I was thankful for, seeing as it was probably me who convinced her to do it.
So, 13 minutes slower than last year, and my slowest ever here. But I've been reminded by a few people that I haven't just come back from nearly 4 months off with injury, but my previous 30 months of running have been constantly injury hit. I, therefore, should be happy with my progress and look forward to the next one. Which I am.
And a big shout out to everyone running at Macedon, and To Brett and the volunteers who make this such a great event. (Even scored a bottle of wine, noice!)

Some interesting Statistics

As I said, I've run this event (same course, the 30) 4 times now. And it has been interesting to see how it has evolved over that time.
My first year there in 2014, I ran 3:31 and placed 14th out of 42. Roll forward to 2017 and I run a 3:49, placing 63rd out of 126. The same time as 2014 would have placed me in 39th position.
These stats relate purely to the 30k course.

Categories	2014	2015	2016	2017
Quickest	02:45:53	02:32:51	02:37:59	02:21:46
Slowest	05:25:40	06:01:45	04:53:42	05:06:03
Average	03:52:10	03:58:32	03:49:28	03:52:34
Median	03:43:50	03:51:34	03:51:25	03:49:06
No. men	27	72	90	85
No. women	15	25	39	41
%Women to Men	55.56%	34.72%	43.33%	48.24%
My time	03:31:15	03:31:47	03:36:36	03:48:49
Time Behind Winner	00:45:22	00:58:56	00:58:37	01:27:03
My Placing	14	31	47	63
Total Runners	42	96	129	126

You can take whatever you like from that brief summary I've given. But here is my take;

1. Despite the dramatic increase in numbers, the average time has stayed relatively stable. Interestingly, the slowest average (and median time) coincides with the bragging rights shit storm of a day in 2015 where it was wet, cold and miserable, and snowed on Monday afterwards.
2. 24:07 minutes have been shaved off the course record in 4 years, that is quite an increase in pace.
3. Men have dominated the number of runners (2014 being the exception), but in recent years the women have clawed their way back. C'mon girls, you know you want to run it!
4. My time has slowly tapered off over the years. A combination of age and injury no doubt.
5. And exacerbated is my time behind the winner. As they get quicker and I get slower, that time stretches out further and further.
6. With the introduction of the half and full marathons in 2017, the 30k numbers plateaued. But overall numbers would have increased quite a bit. A factor many race directors will look at to maintain the viability of smaller events.
7. My time has fallen within the median range in all 4 races. Maybe that is all I aim for next year, or at least plan C, after plans A and B get mown down. Maybe I'll harden up and do the 50.... 

Race Calendar:
July 23rd - You Yangs 30k, Trails+
August 6th - Bunyip State Forest (fatass event)
August 27th - Wonderland 36k.
September 6th - Surf Coast Century 50k.
Until next time....

Three

Race #1: A run, a beer, a beer run.

First run back, and it was hot. The temperature,
not the running from me! 

An idea of running between two of Mornington Peninsulas well-known brewery's for a friends birthday gave rise to the idea of a beer run. What exactly is a beer run? It can be anything, really. No, not a beer mile, although that event could be incorporated in future events. No, the concept is simple enough. Have a trail run, several distances, starting from a pub, major sponsor being a brewery. Have the race events start after liquor licensing laws allow the pub to open, so that you can have a drink (or 2, or 3) before the run. Supply beer at the aid stations or have a beer at the finish (2 cans as part of your entry). Run an event called Pints for Prostates, have events before the main races where contestants chug a beer, have a gel and run up the finish chute and back... You get the drift. It's an event that has the emphasis on FUN. But if you want, you can get serious and hammer either the 10 or the 21k events.

March in Victoria can produce any type of weather. Well actually, any month, any time in Victoria can produce any weather. At any hour...
Look, what I'm trying to say is that it can be mild, or it can be hot in early Autumn. March 18th was a warm one. Bright sunny skies, a warm northerly wind to heat the trees, trail and runners. Lucky it was a beer run, refreshments weren't going to be an issue. I had chosen this run to return to trail racing. Short distance for me, 10k, an event with minimal elevation and descents that were not going to flare my injury up, and as mentioned above, a non-serious event that allowed me to be relaxed and also indulge in the social side of things.

Mr Gippsland parkrun himself,
Tony O'Connell

I arrived about an hour before race start, picked up my bib from registration, stood in line for the toilets (a very popular activity, it seems!), and then got myself ready for the start. A few pre-race activities made for some entertainment, and then we were ready to go. Standing at the start, I was already sweating, not nervous, it was just bloody hot....
Thankfully the first few k's were narrow, I was caught behind many runners which stopped me from taking off too fast. After a k and a half, it thinned out and I was able to find my pace, slow was the best description! Passed and was passed by many, even had a brief stop to get HR down again, fitness being a little bit on the light side of things. Into the single trails and some respite from the sun. At some point we met runners coming the other way, still don't know which event, presumed mine, but the were way, way in front.

Hit the one and only aid station on my course, staffed by friend Cassandra, a most welcome sight as I was already feeling the energy draining out of me. There were beers on offer here, whilst tempted I reckon that would have been the end of me. About 500 metres past the aid station, the trail veered left. Or so it seemed. There were no markers on the ground, or in trees. My rudimentary knowledge of the course made me believe we needed to continue left, but as I stopped to take bearings, so did about 5 other people. Being the only one with the route stored in my watch, I was able to call it up and confidently call the correct path.
By now we are returning to Peeves Road to return to the Pig and Whistle. As we climbed towards the road, a shout-out from behind from a friend Caroline spurred me on to keep following her. Recently returning from the birth of her first child, Caroline was also struggling in the 10k where normally she would be running the longer distance with greater ease. She was being paced by a couple of male friends, and I made to hang on to the back of them as we ran back down Purves Road.

I couldn't stomach a beer at the aid station, some could though!

Throughout the race, I had kept bumping into another runner in an LTR shirt. I had never met him, but we both greeted each other when we passed by. Less than a kilometre from home he was slowing down, looking behind and spotted me. Caught up, and we ran in together as an act of Goat solidarity! A few yells from friends, some high fives, at the finish, then it was all over. I was stuffed, but more than anything I was close to overheating. Really glad I hadn't attempted to do the 21, would have been a long a difficult day, with an extended recovery period thrown in.
The best part was the social gathering afterwards. Included in race entry was 2 cans of beer from the Mornington Brewery, made good use of that and caught up with quite a few friends who I haven't seen for a long long time.

Always a delight catching up with Tan.
Photo credit: Tanya Marie

The drive back home was long and hot, and I was hungry, neglecting to eat anything substantial until I got home. A great event, and kudos to Deb and her team for putting together a great event, lots of fun.
Having got through this race unscathed (injury, whilst sore that afternoon was fine the following day), I decided to sign up for Duncans Run, 21k event in a fortnight's time. My preference was for something around 15, but either a 6 or a 21 was the choice, the 50 being not remotely on the radar!

Race #2: Hell not quite freezing over

Which brings me to April 1st. April Fools day, no doubt. The weather at Tarra Bulga is distinctly polar opposite to a fortnight ago. Polar being the significant word here. Rain, wind, low cloud/fog (call it what you like) whipping across the top of Mt. Tassie.
The drive up from Warragul had indicated mild weather. High cloud obscuring the sunrise, temperature fairly mild, but promising good running conditions. Having taken the time to get my kit together the previous night, I felt confident that I was well prepared for what could be a tough course. Nicky was coming up with me to run the 6k event, and we were chatting happily as we barrelled down the Princess Highway. As often happens, the best laid plans and all that….
Took the turnoff to Churchill, somehow thinking the drive to Tarra Bulga was on this route. After driving for a while I thought the surrounding countryside didn't look right. Pulled the car over, consulted the GPS to work out I needed to turn around, head north to the highway again and keep going to Traralgon. GPS eta was saying another 51 minutes, it was already 7:10 with race briefing for my race at 7:45.

After a bit of fancy driving, foot a bit harder on the pedal than usual, I got onto the road to Ballook. By this time though, it was quite obvious I was going to be late, and miss my race. Pissed off didn't quite capture my mood. I was fairly calm though, at least I could change events and run with Nicky. Arrived at the start line at 7:57, watched everyone head off in the 50 and the 21k event, then I sauntered into race rego to work out what I could do. Halfway through my pissweak explanation of why I was late, the kindly woman on registration said, “You can still run it”. She threw me my bib, a quick kiss and a “see you later honey” to Nicky, and I careened out to the start/finish area. As I was getting changed, RD Trav came and gave me a personalised race brief (basically, don't get lost, if you do stay where you are, look out for snakes….. #theusual). Still thankful I'd pack my hydration vest the night before, watch on, satellite acquired in 30 seconds (thank you Suunto), I headed off to the start line, only 10 minutes late!

Not the greatest way to start a race, but off I went anyway. The first section is through the walking tracks adjacent the information building, heading towards the suspension bridge. My race plan had always been to run this by HR, keeping at 145 or under as an average, but to keep the high peaks to a minimum. With this in mind, I picked an early pace of around 6:00 to 6:15 pace, trying to run by feel, conscious of HR and breathing. It took me nearly 4 and half k's to catch the first runner. Joy, 60+ veteran of 17 Ironman events, 6 of them at Kona. I was in elite company! A quick chat, then off I went. Crossed the Ballok/Traralgon road and headed downhill through some of the loveliest single trail. It was a walking track to Mt. Tassie, but clearly not used much, and lacking in upkeep. The trail was very lumpy, and soft underfoot, at times prone to giving away as you foot came down hard. Lots of wet forest, tree ferns growing over the path, I was soaked by the time I was only 5 minutes in. Passed Warragul parkrun ED Lea and her husband doing the 21, then I continued the climb up to Mt.Tassie.

Spooky path to Mt. Tassie

Eventually, the path came out on a road where we turned left to head towards the communications towers. At the highest point, and the weather that we'd been shielded from, suddenly burst upon us in a flurry of showers, high wind and biting cold. Sharpys Beer run a very distant memory….
I was still running in just shorts and Tech T, but counting down the minutes when I might pull the rain jacket, thermal and gloves out of the pack. Thankfully we dropped back down towards the Ballook road (from the other side this time), and conditions calmed somewhat. My wide path, then narrowing trail again, before coming out on to a fairly extensive road used for logging. This was that start of the descent that would go on for a bit longer than I expected. At approximately 5k, with a gradual enough decline that it was very runnable. By now, at the start of the descent, we've covered about 13k. I wasn't fatigued much, my recent injury was behaving itself, but I was conscious of the effort I was putting in. HR still under 145 average (actually under 137 here) and considering the terrain, I was really happy with that.

Great to be back.
Photo credit: Burning Harp photography.

Apart from 3 dirt bike riders and 1 other runner, I saw no-one along this road. Thinking it was good mental training, I put the head down and got on with it. As every k ticked by, and still descending, and with the knowledge of where the finish line was in terms of height above sea level, I knew we were in for a pretty wicked climb. And at the 18k mark, we hit it. A quick, short climb before turning left and then 2+ k's of an unrelenting slog up an old fire trail. Passed a few runners up here, most taking it easy walking up. I was hiking/striding, keeping the pace up as much as I could without breaking into a run. We were still in forestry areas for most of this climb, then suddenly we were back into the wet forest area surrounding Ballook. The climb behind us, it was just a kilometre and a bit left to get back to the finish line. Spotted several girls running together ahead of me, and made a point of trying to firstly keep pace, secondly make ground on them, and lastly see if I could catch them. Points 1 and 2 covered, point 3 seemed a bit of a stretch! As we crossed the suspension bridge they were about 100 metres ahead of me, we had less than 400 metres to go. I effectively gave up. Then on the run in to the finish, one of them decided she needed a quick breather before the finish, stopped mid track enabling me to catch up. As I did they spied the photographer, started running again so that we all finished together, with me urging them on from behind!

Finished at Duncans.
Photo credit: Nicole Walsh.

Watch time said 2:42, effectively 2:52 with my late start, but it was a great hit out. Nicky was there to greet me, having run her race, then waited patiently for me to return. I was soaking wet, fatigued, legs sore, injury finally starting to complain after the long descent, but I couldn't be happier, out in the elements again testing myself against the course.
Duncan's is a great little event. Low key, minimalist, but as always supported by enthusiastic volunteers, and friendly racers. The course has a mixture of trail types, with a splattering of the usual fire trails and logging roads, but the single trail is worth the effort. All reports the 50 was just as well loved.

Race #3: What goes up, must surely come down!

Never having run at Maroondah Dam before (training or racing), I fronted a month later on a cool and sunny morning on April 30th to tackle this as the first run in the Trails+ Mountain series. When I entered nearly 7 weeks ago, I had assumed (rightly) that this would be more a time on the legs race, rather than a full tilt, pedal to the metal attempt. History will show I got that correct!
Maroondah events of 30k and above climb over Mt. St. Leonards. The 42 and 50k events add even more climbing (and the associated descending too) to their distances. And climb is not an understatement. Whilst not a Skyrun by any imagination, the climb up can destroy calf muscles, the descent back down will shred all but the most steely of quads. It was on this particular section of the trail that my race, and my energy, fell to pieces.
My intention all along had been to run a controlled pace, run gently on the downhills and flats, walk any climbs that required it, and get to the turnaround in okay shape with enough left in the tank to descend reasonably well. The theory was good, the application was sound, just the body wasn't up to it on the day.

Nicky finishing the 10k. Photo credit:
Michelle Knoll Photography.

Trails+ events are a very social affair for me. Well organised, very well supported by runners and vollies, but low key enough to escape the razzmatazz of larger concerns. Being the first major race back for me, and over distances that I'm more accustomed to running, I found myself meeting lots of friends I hadn't seen for ages. It's a great feeling being welcomed back by many, and just as good knowing I was donning racing gear to get out and have a crack. Nicky was with me today, running the 10k event, a course that would follow mine for 5k's out and back. It was going to be her longest run in nearly 2 years, and in new shoes too (Salomon Speed Cross 3's, noice!).
A quick goodbye and kiss to Nicky, hug to several other friends running the 21 or 10 events (and hearing a comment about “fan club”…?), I ran off to the start line, seeding myself way back to avoid early race white line fever.

Because of a track closure, RD Brett Saxon, had devised a start that had us run through the start/finish area several times before heading out on the course proper. For a brief period we were all rock stars, fresh-faced in the early stages as we passed family and friends at the start area. Another section back and forth over the dam wall, and then we were away. Early stages I noticed my HR was spiking a bit too much on the climbs, so resorted to walking. A sure sign I still have a way to go with fitness. For the first 7 or so k's a group of us ran together, Chantelle and Jon (2 friends), and 4 other guys. It was remarked that it was more like a road marathon bunch than a trail race! Beyond the 5k aid station, the trail started to get into the initial climbs, nothing spectacular, but enough to make us thin out. Chantelle and Jon had run ahead, but I slowly pegged back Jon. I was finally in a good groove. I wasn't finding the run easy, but I had found my default pace and was sticking to it. At the 40 minute mark, first piece of nutrition, a protein ball. I was testing my hydration and nutrition plan, seeing how it would stack up for an ultra.

Caught up with another runner I have crossed paths in trail races, Skye, and we had a chat/moan/whinge about how we didn't seem to have any climbing legs today. As we were chatting, Chantelle had stopped in front of us to take photos, then joined in the chat. She was coming back from giving birth to her first and remarking on how she would have previously eaten this distance for breakfast (my terms, not hers!).
After what seemed like a very long time, finally made it to the aid station before the first big climb to Mt. St. Leonards. And it didn't look easy…, the climb that is. Quick chat with a vollie I met at Sharpy's Beer run, then off I went, keen to get this climb out of the way. And shit, what a climb. I was a bit unprepared, the course profile giving me no indication of its pitch and rockiness. There was no point running here, in fact, there was no way I was running here. Having been thinned out by the previous 10k, this section seemed to bring us all back together again, some of us stronger than others. And just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, turn a corner and it gets steeper and rockier. And one point I stopped walking, HR was showing 167 here, and I just had to get my breath back. Filmed Ash Bennett flying back down, actually was in awe of all the front runners descending ability. It was a sight to behold.
And finally at the summit. Knackered, out of breath and knowing that I was severely spent didn't help my mood, which was a bit low. But I continued on to the turnaround point, grappling with a short sharp descent which I knew was going to be a short sharp and hard climb on the return.

Rounding the bend at the end of the dam wall,
knackered. Photo credit: Michelle Knoll Photography.

Chantelle caught up with me at the turnaround, and we ran together until the climb back to the summit. She was obviously stronger and kept going as I stopped to walk. Once I summited, it was with a big sigh that I started the descent. By now we have run about 16k, and whilst there were a few climbs left, the majority was downhill or flat. The hardest part on the steep descent was trying to break the speed, without smashing the quads. At one point I dislodged rocks and they continued to tumble behind me, threatening to overcome me!
Arrived back at the aid station at the bottom, crewed by Paul Todd and Kim. A quick bite to eat, chips and fruit cake, then push on to home. It became apparent very early along here that I had not much energy left for the 10k. Shuffling and walking, pace very slow, I was being overtaken with ease by many in my race. Eventually, Jon caught and passed me. Then the 42k runners and the 50k front runners came past. I could have let myself get disheartened here, but stuck to my goal of just moving forward.

Final aid station with 5 to go was back on the road. Following another runner along here who looked to be doing it as tough as I was. Made a point of hanging with him, albeit about 50 metres behind him. This section was a slog, interrupted by the creek crossing (socks only just dried after getting wet on the way out!), and I was mentally flat. Turned up the trail back into the Yarra ranges National Park, an MTB rider passed me and told me I was doing well, "only one climb and about 1400 metres to go!" It was lovely of her to say this, but I knew it was still about 2 to 3k's left. Lots of people walking along here, looking with more than a little amazement at the runners struggling back up the climb and heading towards the finish. With about a k and a half to go, I made a pact to myself to run it all the way in. Past the guy in front, and on to the dam wall for one last time. I could hear loud music, thinking our entrepreneurial RD had stoked up the boom box for some inspirational finish line music. But no, it was a Greek festival in the same park.

A selection of pics of runners I knew doing a number of events. Photo credit: Michelle Knoll Photography.

At the end of the dam wall, there was a tight turn right, with a path or stone steps to get to the finish. My brain just registered the steps were closer, so down I went on very tired and stiff legs. And then the finish line appeared, Nicky and friends there to cheer me over, and I was done. 4:01 on the watch, which surprisingly was my estimated time for me. I just didn't think it was going to take so much out of me in getting it.
Normally full of emotion at finishing, I was strangely flat, none at all. Apologies to everyone who saw me at the finish, it was uncharacteristic of me, but it was just one of those days. They say the hard and shitty runs are the character building ones, and on reflection they are right. It has taken me a while to recognise that, and the positive was that I pulled up with no injuries, very little DOMS, and the confidence that mentally, at least, I can handle that and a bit more.
I couldn't eat straight after the race, just not hungry. On the drive out we stopped at Four Pillars Distillery for some gin tasting and purchasing. That made me very sleepy until we hit Cockatoo, then I had to stop for food and drink, my appetite finally returned.

Next race, Macedon 30k, race 2 in the Trails+ Mountain Series. (My 4th year in a row for this event, this distance).

Until next time.