In A Beautiful Place Out In The Country

A year ago a seed was planted with regards running Tarawera after a group of runners I know came back talking it up wildly (Ali Moxham, a chief protagonist). Talking to my good friend Caz, she noted 2018 was her 50th, and was planning on a few big events to celebrate the milestone. A plan was hatched.
The following is the Tarawera blog of our most excellent adventure. My thoughts in black, Caz's in red.

Wednesday - holiday to EnZed starts

Straight after work catch up with Chris Langmead for a few drinks. Chris had run Tarawera a few years previously, and some sage advice was given. The weather was hot in Melbourne, but the forecast was for cooler weather on arrival in Auckland. Grab some food then head to Southern Cross, bus to Tullamarine.
Going through border control was shitty. Australian Border Force personnel nothing better than trumped up mini Hitlers, you are all guilty until proven innocent. Forgot my laptop was still in the bag. The rigmarole to go through it etc… Anyway, all good in the end.
The flight left at 11:55. When on board had stupidly realised I'd ordered 2 meals, meant to be 1, and only on the return flight next Tuesday…. Still ate them. (Carbo load?)

Thursday - Land in Auckland and get to Rotorua

Flying through the night not too bad, just difficult finding a good sleeping position in the cramped cattle class in Jetstar. Around 5:20 spotted the first lights of New Zealand and a faint glow on the horizon.
Landed at Auckland Airport at 5:35am, not the ghost town many would expect.
First stop was to get a travel sim for my phone. Spark had looked the best service, but the staff at the counter looked at my phone and said I'd be better off with Vodafone. Went to Vodafone counter, and they had none of the $25 sims left. Bumped into Heidi and Justin Cutler, Brett Tilley and his wife, and Mark and Kathy Swinkels. Really cool to know I'm not the only crazy doing the overnight flight thingy.
4 international flights landed within 20 minutes, customs with their hands full. I had declared my trail shoes, more out of a sense of doing the right thing. Was horrified when I pulled them out to see how much dirt was stuck in the treads. Cheery quarantine officer was like, “No problem, I'll clean them, you go through x-ray and I'll have them for you there on the other side”. Great, except another quarantine person moved a group of us to another room and I'm thinking “Shit, they are my only trail shoes...” A minute or two later, my guy comes strolling through the throng holding up 2 plastic bags with my (now) clean shoes going, “Knew I'd hunt you down, enjoy your stay, sir”. The comparison with my Australian customs encounter could not have been any starker.
Now the wait for Caz and John. They were due in around 1:00, I just had to cool my heels until then. The first step, get that sim. Got it, but not before I stuffed up the pin code on my cash passport. Crikey.

Deb, Ali and Caz at the honour board.
(Photo credit: Caz Donovan.)

Waiting wasn’t too bad, adrenaline got me through the first 3 hours. Food and coffee, more food, more coffee until the inevitable fatigue induced crash happened. Woke up, head on the table hoping I hadn’t snored at all. Check flight boards, their flight still 1 ½ hours away, farkkkk….. Eventually, in the early afternoon their plane arrives, and so does Tony, Jacqui, Deb, and Jared. I am mightily relieved that we can now get on the road to Rotorua. Caz and John take turns driving, chatting as we went. Caz and I try to not just talk about running, and this race in particular, and thinking we get away with it (when we don’t). Into motel at 5:30, unpack, clean up and head out for dinner.
2 incidents after dinner, one funny, one not so. First one, Justin Cutler strolling around the dairy cabinet in the supermarket (called Countdown, as in the ABC music show of the 70’s and 80’s), slips on water pooling on the floor. And lands on an already knackered knee, further damaging it. I was there at the same time, different aisle, and unaware. A minute later, I'm in the same aisle and an announcement on the PA. “If Les Corson is in the supermarket, could he come to the front counter, his mum is waiting for him”! I guffawed very loudly, Caz Donovan's doing no doubt. Get to counter, staff and Caz and Ali Moxham all having a good ol laugh. Very funny guys, very funny.

Friday - Rego and weather watching day

Overslept the alarm, so missed the opening ceremony. Obviously needed the sleep after yesterday. So I headed down to the expo to have a look. The cloudy weather yesterday had now turned to showers, the occasional one quite heavy. Not a good omen. The expo was squeezed into a smallish room, and I circumnavigated several times, trying hard not to spend too much money.
Lunch in town with Caz and John, then back to the unit. The rain was getting more persistent and thoughts turned to how good the mandatory gear was.

All smiles and relaxed(?) at race rego. Great friends.
(Photo credit: Jamie Moxham)

Race brief at 4:00pm where race organiser Paul Charteris proclaimed that Tarawera was a 'very runnable course'. That caused a ripple of laughter through the audience, we shall see seemed to be the consensus.
Home cooked meal (my usual salmon, green vege, and a rice dish for a change). Gear prepped, set up watch to have trail running mode and 15 hour battery life, and then set alarm for 4:00am.

Saturday - Race Day, what we are here for

The alarm went off at 4, I'd had a good sleep but was woken up a few times with rain thundering down on the carpark outside. Shit… Breakfast of muesli, toast, coffee and a Berroca. I dressed in running gear, including thermal and rainjacket and headed out the door at 4:40 walking to Government Gardens to collect the bus to Firmin Field. The rain, currently drizzle, got heavier and heavier as I walked the dark streets of Rotorua. By the time I got to the buses, it was pissing down. I was already soaked. I jumped on the 2nd bus, messaged Caz to tell her I was heading up, only to see she'd already messaged me to tell me the same.

Caz and I in front of the honour board of entrants.
(Photo credit: Caz Donovan)

Now, New Zealand markets itself as the adventure capital of the world.  Travel brochures won't tell you it starts with the bus drivers! Race brief had warned us of the windy and treacherous roads to Firmin Field, drivers clearly thought they were immortal. Throwing the bus into corners, hitting a speed bump at 55 km/h, we were glad to be deposited to our destination in one piece. The lucky bastards were the 102k runners, they ran from there. The rest of us had to board another bus to go to our own start lines. Waiting around, sheltering from the rain was frustrating. But at least we got to see our 102k buddies head off on their run.
Into our bus, and another adrenaline ride to our start line. Our driver didn't know where he was going, managed to get the LHS wheels of the bus on the side of a single lane bridge which has a 2 metre drop into a creek. Matt, Jared, Caz and I joking that given the choice of bus or run back to the start, we'd run. We arrived late, all the buses driving into the road where we started, parking head-to-toe on a one-way road. We clamber out, only to find out that the first bus has parked over the start line (thankfully not over the timing mats!)

Shane Smedley and I at the start line.
(Photo credit: Shane Smedley)

The toilet queue is looonnnnggg. I'm ok, many others aren't. Always a bit tense at the start, but good to catch up with many runners that we knew, all of us just desperate to get underway.
Paul Charteris gave us a pre-race brief/chat, then a Maori Haka, welcome, and prayer. Was great watching this, really brought home that I was in another country racing for the first time.
Minute out from the race start. I'm not nervous, just anxious to start. Turn watch on, HR receiver found, GPS found. All was good, or so I thought at the time… Turned phone to airplane mode. In my pack next to my body as I run, it gets hot and chews through the battery. No or little coverage also means more battery usage. Mentally run through what I'm about to do, how I can help and support Caz.
IN MY PACK: 2 squeezy bottles of VFuel berry flavour, 1.5 litre of water in the bladder, 1 nut protein bar and 1 VFuel gel (maple bacon flavour). The aim was to use the aid station food, these supplies backup or emergency. Also carrying mandatory gear; wearing my VUR THIR and raincoat, carrying the long sleeve thermal top.
3, 2, 1 then we're off. A fast start and then a grinding halt as 20 rows of runners meet single track! First few k's at a snails pace, single file as we are limited in passing. Caz is just behind me, I keep checking for a bit as it is always chaotic at the start, easy to lose a friend. About 1.5k in we hit Tarawera Falls. We'd heard them well before we got there, the water thundering down from a great height. Many of us stopped for a photo and/or selfie. Then headed off again.

Very early on, note the nice shiny shoes!
(Official photo from http://photos4sale.nz)

The trail climbs significantly as we zig-zag around to climb to the height of the falls. Still plenty of runners around us, the trail is a bit up and down, short sharp rises, steep descents, a few tree roots, and rocks, but still firm underfoot. Eventually, after a couple of kilometres it flattens out and we can get some consistent running in. Caz and I not chatting too much here, just working our way into the race. But others around are having a good ol chinwag with friends, or anyone that comes past.
We approach the first aid station at The Outlet. This is where the Tarawera River leaves Tarawera Lake. The aid station is not on the trail, but off over a bridge about 50 metres away. A vollie hurriedly yelling out, “Trial straight ahead, aid station to your left”. Caz is in front, and suffering the indecision of the runner with momentum, keep going or stop. I make up her mind by yelling out “TOILET STOP!” For the last few k's, a rumbling stomach. I sprint across the bridge to the portaloos.

The Outlet at 5.3k in 53:20

Return to find Caz at the food, picking through the things she liked.
FOOD INTAKE: 2 rounds of peanut butter sangas, a handful of almonds, a few jelly beans, and half a banana. I refill one of the squeezy bottles with Tailwind, already drinking a lot. Cool conditions, but very humid and sweating a fair bit.
A few minutes here, then head off again, stopping periodically to take photos and video with Caz's GoPro. The trail is still winding its way around Lake Tarawera, going up and down, twisting etc. Not savage, but enough to quell any running rhythm. Caz was not really enjoying this section, the terrain not to her liking. I was like a pig in mud (a euphemism I was going to regret later) as it reminded me of the trails around Sassafras in The Dandenongs, my home state of Victoria. At the 8km mark, we climbed again, a few short sections, then for another kilometre that twisted back and forth. Stuck in a line of runners I quipped how Paul Charteris at race brief had said that the trail was essentially runnable for the full length. Cue sarcastic laughter by all.

Somewhere along here the first of the 102k runners came flying through, at serious pace. The section through here very technical as well. Tree roots, rocks, a tight trail. Caz and I took turns in front. Her so she could dictate the pace and keep it within her abilities. Me when she needed a break from concentrating on trip hazards. We swapped 3k outside of Humphries aid station and I immediately caught up with a woman using dual walking poles. Now, I’m an each to their own sort of person when it comes to poles in these races. But…  it was a busy section, still lots of runners on the trail, it was technical and there is a what I consider a valid argument as to their effectiveness. And safety. After nearly copping one in the face as I clambered over a tree root, I thought it time to back off a little bit.

Humphries aid station, 13.3 k in 2:20. 

Disappointed to find no bears, and pants on… Caz needed a toilet, only to find it was a pit type, with a long queue. I headed to find food and drink.
Not being a princess type I opted to take the jungle head on, almost body crawling under a massive fallen tree into the thick scrub. Who’s got time to line up when you’re already under the realisation your goal time is slowly stretching further and further away.
FOOD INTAKE: 2 peanut butter sangas, 1 jam sanga, 1 banana, 4 small choc brownies, ½ handfull jelly beans, 2 handfuls of plain chips, and refill my bottle with Tailwind. Caz was back from the toilet quickly, hmmmm…. It was just a pee Les haha
Back on the trail again and a short climb out of the aid station, hear my name, then Caz’s called out. It was Jared running in a relay team, filling in for Kate who was injured. I was genuinely happy to see Jared doing so well. Descend again to what looked like a continuation of Lake Tarawera, but was, in fact, Lake Okataina and the start of the leg to the next aid station. But it was also getting a bit muddy along here. Trail type still as before with the occasional stunning view across the lake through the mist and rain. Gave a bit of mental relief, but for Caz, her mood was not lifting. It was here I was trying to enjoy the scenery but the rain and drizzle just kept playing on my mind. Still, we chatted about various topics and kept moving forward and that kept a sense of purpose to our run. We both secretly hoped the trail after Lake Okataina aid station would be easier (read more running on a straighter trail, less of the churned up muddy sections).

Me looking good, rain jacket stowed after I got too hot.
(Official photo from http://photos4sale.nz)

Photographer at the 16.6k mark, thankfully around a corner where we were both running. Run on, hoping the pic turns out. I relished this moment, knowing if the photographer was there, it wasn’t far until the aid station, who in there crazy mind would hike kilometres into a drenched forest just to take photos of crazy ass runners! I was wrong unless this guy knew a shortcut. Then another small climb, and walk again. By now the runners are thinning out, only small groups were encountered. The rain, previously drizzle or very light, got heavy. I was getting wet through my raincoat, shoes and shorts were soaked, but I wasn’t cold. But it was where I was at my lowest, not a fan of the heavy rain, and in the forest, it seemed to hit us in big drops. Now I am also concerned about chaffing. I actually had no idea Kate would be here, I’d forgotten all about the team swap between Jared and Braddon. It was so good to see her, knowing she’d helped train me and her having certainty in my ability, gave me the mental boost to stay positive.

Caz looking good early on.
(Official photo from http://photos4sale.nz)

At some point along here, chatting to Caz, I misjudged the height of a branch across the trail and bonked my head a good one. Slightly stunned, pain, and a dull headache but I was okay. Caz was concerned. Later that night I would feel the bump, painful to touch, but be buggered if I could remember it happening. Caz was now always walking the climbs, but still had enough energy to run the downhills and the flats, where running was possible. The final k and a bit were downhill to the aid station. I took off. Didn’t tell Caz, but thought she’d appreciate the time without me to collect her thoughts knowing her good friend and coach Kate would be here.

Lake Okataina aid station, 23.3k in 4:35. 

Out of the forest and into a carpark where the food tents were set-up. Jamie Moxham (following partner Ali around) taking photos, Kathy Swinkels (following partner Mark around) also taking photos and Kate and Braddon there. Headed once again for the food tables determined to fuel up big as the next stop was 16k away. Caz came in a minute or so later and was greeted warmly by Kate. We all chatted, got photos and hung around for quite a while.
FOOD INTAKE: 2 honey sangas, 2 peanut butter sangas, 1 jam sanga, 3 handfuls of potato crisps, ½ my bodyweight in choc brownies, and refill both bottles with tailwind.
Hugs, a pep talk from coach Kate and then we were off again.
Sharp climb out of the aid station as we headed inland (Braddon had warned us about this), and Caz drilling me for info on the climb(s) ahead. I always study a course beforehand. My recollection was 2 climbs, the 1st being the most significant. A few 102k and 87k runners had come through and are in the mix with us as we climb the trail. As it flattened out, we start running, and I immediately have gut pain. The choc brownies, dammit! Then we hit some mud, again. Surely not…
I duck into the forest to toilet, and find it’s just gas. But not before registering it on the Richter scale! Happiness is a dry fart mid-ultra.
Came across a clearing in the forest, many garden type plants around pointing to an old landholding at some point in the past. This section reminded me of a scene out of Jurassic Park, clear fields big ferns, mountains, and big trees, I felt light and a moment of relief from the oppressive darkness of the canopy of forest and incessant and at times heavy rain. Then we climb again, 5k to the summit of our first climb. Quite steep at the start, the trail had serious ruts and washouts, muddy and deceptively slippery underfoot. The rain eased back to drizzle, and the temperature starting to warm up, I stop and take off the raincoat, pack it up and put it in a pocket in the vest thinking it would come out again. It didn’t. Climbing was slow. I was rapidly revising finish times. Even at the last stop, I was thinking 11:30 not out of the question, but up here, no such chance. Over 12 best guess. I started catching, passing and being passed by other 62k runners as I ran ahead, stopped and waited for Caz, then, later on, would do the same. After 1:20 from Lake Okataina, we summit. No trig, no plaque I could see or rock cairn. We just start descending again. Start running again with Caz, then we hit the mud and 10k of the filthiest, slippery mud on the whole course. She’d been hoping for good track down to get some running in and peg back the time we’d lost on the way up. This was almost the final straw for Caz. Totally getting to me by now, but this is my tactic... if I’m not aware of whats ahead I have no assumptions, cant overthink things, and just get to concentrate on foot placing, posture and getting it done. Pre-race I will look at elevation overall, ask advice from others who may have done the course before then just concentrate on enjoying the ability to do what I love.

Mud on the way down, mud on the way up!
(Photo credit: Toni Burns)

I'd been assessing the mud as poo to mentally amuse myself. This section was dark chocolate brown, sort of 'all night on the Stout' kind of colour (possibly texture as well). It was very slippery, lots of puddles of water on top disguising what was underneath. Despite the conditions, my shoes were performing brilliantly. Only the sloppiest of mud would present anxious moments.
Came across a few runners tentatively tip-toeing down some deep rutted muddy trail. As I passed, a quick look at the show model, “Hokas?”. Yep. Seems they weren't good descending in the mud. Maybe certain models better than others, maybe wrong shoe for that person. I passed about 5 runners with this issue.
At one point I decided Caz needed some more 'alone' time, and took off down a long section of seriously rutted slippery golden brown (think breastfeeding baby poo colour). I was starting to worry I was holding you back (knowing you could do the course so much faster) and here I was really starting to feel my blisters, however knowing the state of my shoes and feet there was no way in hell I was removing my shoes, I’d never get them back on again. I started slow, then gained confidence, and speed and then was barely on the edge of control, legs, knees, elbows in all directions searching for grip, stability and above all else, staying upright. At the bottom was a creek that we had to wade through (shin deep), so washed the shoes and socks. And then looked up to see another 50 metres of golden brown slop (shoes immediately filthy again). I waited, Caz came down just as 2 girls were crossing the creek. A brief chat between Caz and one of the girls resulted in them hugging one another in solidarity of 'we just want to get out of this fucking mud!' This poor girl was totally over it, I understood her feelings but what could you do, there wasn’t any point on standing, waiting for a chopper to get us out, it wasn’t going to happen. I hoped my hug gave her the boost she needed to just remember we were all feeling the same. We are now about 32/33 k's in 6 ½ hours and I'm still feeling fine. On my feet a long time, but the pace was well within my comfort zone. Not for Caz, but I was able to be around for her. Cue feeling of broken toe. 

Mud, shitloads of it.
(Photo credit: Toni Burns)

Start of the 2nd climb on this section, and more mud, more trashed trail. Caz is sucking down another gel, searching for any assistance she can get. I still have the gel and the protein bar in the pack, yet to need either. She has a Kit Kat strapped to the top of her pack. We share it walking up the trail (“Have a break, have a Kit Kat”). The cumulative effect of the climbs makes it slow going. The forest has opened out a lot, and soon we see cleared paddocks on the hills adjacent the trail.
37k mark, and descend again. Different mud type here, less Stout, more IPA. Quite a few 102k runners along here, and once again I travelled forward of Caz and ran with a few of them, keep them company. They wouldn't talk much, probably just happy to have proximity to another human for a period. Wait for Caz again, and we continue on, still running the downs and occasional flat sections, but only where the mud is not overwhelming. A few runners enquiring as to how far to the next aid station. As everybody's watch is showing different distances (GPS error, inaccuracies etc.), a few were excited, a few were under-whelmed, a few were pissed off.
And finally, the unmistakable sound of music through the forest. Seemed like Drum and Bass, a bit hard to tell. But I estimated we must be at least a kilometre away! Soon enough a sign saying the aid station is just 200 metres away. Yeah, heard it! Waited for Caz, but when she caught up she was content to walk in, so I ran in.

Millars Aid Station, 40k in 8:12. 

OMG, what a sight. It reminded me of the Du Long Bridge scene from Apocalypse Now. Music blaring, weird hallucinations (okay that was me seeing all the fluro on display), just needed the spaced out soldiers with no comprehension of what was going on (okay, that was the runners). But they were a very enthusiastic and supportive bunch of volunteers. Caz came in, grabbed some food then told me she was off to the toilet. A minute or so later I look towards the portaloos to see her being consoled by a vollie and clearly distressed. Everyone has a revelation during times of physical and mental fatigue. I distinctly remember (and will never forget) picking up some peanut butter sandwich squares and looking over to the paddock, then uncontrollable tears, not crying just tears. This totally threw me, I remember thinking what the actual fuck is happening to me. I walked away from the hustle bustle of everything to collect my thoughts, only to have the vollie keep following me asking if I was ok. I assured her I was but by now I started to verbalise I wasn’t sure I could finish it, which caused more tears. In an instant this girl turned my head around by some simple words of encouragement..... you’re through the hardest and longest section, it’s downhill from here and only 7k to the next aid station. This mental strategy allowed me to focus on breaking the rest of the course down. 7k I could do!!
Decision time, one of 2; Ignore and let her deal with it, or confront head-on. I chose the latter. If anything was going to go pear-shaped here I needed to know I'd done everything I could to help Caz. As it was the chat with the vollie had helped. A quick hug from me, and back to the food table.
Got talking to the head vollie (who shall remain anonymous, although his real name is David Massey!), he asked “Where you from, how are you going?” etc. Told him I'm fine, but my friend was doing it hard. He looks at me with a face that conveys “I've got this!”, and launches off after Caz before my semi-wasted brain can grab him and plead “No, please don't!!!” But too late, I can only watch through fingers of hands pressed against my face expecting fireworks as Caz responded. But thankfully all was good, events not inflamed. This guys enthusiasm was personified! Although I was mentally back on track, it was heartwarming to listen to his words. He noticed I was wearing a rhino pendant necklace (a gift from Kate) and started reminding me a rhino never backs down, it only ever goes forward, they’re tough and not afraid of anything. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I actually work in Africa with orphaned rhino’s of all ages, and for the most part they’re afraid, unsure and rely on reassurance, and will back down if you stand your ground. Mind you when they do feel threatened or scared they will charge, and if you don’t move quickly will cause some serious damage. I don’t feel charging towards anyone would paint a picture of understanding, so I just kept eating (another favourite thing for a rhino to do).
FOOD INTAKE: more potato crisps, 1 peanut butter sanga, 1 honey sanga, refill of bottle with Tailwind, and another handful of choc brownies (previous issues forgotten/ignored/in denial).
Back on the road (actually), a gently descending gravel road, Millar Road. Caz and I walked for a bit, digesting food, composing ourselves. She hadn't wanted me to see her in that state back at the aid station. Sorry mate, your issues were my issues, we were in this together. We started running and met a woman walking her dog back up the road. Caz (a vet nurse) stopped to see if the dog was friendly, and give him a pat. She was able to pat him, and I think that helped her immensely. It did help a great deal. I ran on and caught up with a 102k runner. I'd seen her remove her shoes at Millars, not a pretty sight I can confirm. Actually, it was a horror show. Mine weren't in great shape, constant mud and water had made them swell and I could feel them pinching in certain places. I'd already loosened the laces twice, but still, the shoes felt snug.*

Trail shoes aren't meant to be clean!
This scene greeted me the following morning after I'd
dumped them outside the unit the night before.

We were on bitumen here. I stopped around a corner to wait for Caz and then we ran together for a bit. Nearly cleaned up by an erratic motorist on a corner, not in any hurry to get over to let us past. 2 hours previously I'd switched off my phone after hearing a warning tone that I was at 15% battery. I would leave it off so that I had juice left at the finish to text Nicky. Just as we left the road and went back on the trail around Lake Okareka when my watch beeped an unfamiliar tome; low battery. It was my 2nd and last warning (ignored previous one). 30 seconds later the time is showing on my watch and the GPS signal receiver has been shut down. Perplexed, I couldn't work out why at 8:41 the battery dies when I'd set it up to last at least 15 hours. Using HR chews more battery, I knew that. Later I would work out that I'd used the wrong activity setting.
Caz and I ran for a bit, walked for a bit around the lake, then back into a built-up area of holiday homes, back to lake trail again. Then back to the road again, we stopped running and walked across the road. Then we spy 4 women ahead, spectators. But dressed up in bridal gear, a bridal party or hens night getup. As we approach, “You have running shoes on” (emphasis on 'Running'). “You know what people with running shoes should be doing?” I look back at Caz, she mutters under her breath “Oh for fucks sake. C'mon then...” and we start running. The women jump up and down, whooping and hollering, hi-5 us as we trot past. Bloody hell, not sure we needed that. Looking back on this it brings a smile to my face, they were the sweetest most fun loving girls.
Off the road and into another trail that was dark as buggery. By now it is late afternoon, on a cloudy day, under a dense canopy. Very Lord of the Rings, although more Mordor than Hobbiton for my liking. More mud, more twisty trail, more sharp climbs (Caz well and truly over it), but the thought of another aid station ahead was pushing us on. Climb around a water reservoir, then descend a shitty worn out trail that eventually came out at the aid station at Lake Tikitapu. What a great aid station, lots of spectators lots of food. The theme of this aid station was Zombie Apocalypse. I stared at a vollie for an extended period, before I realised I wasn't hallucinating, she did, in fact, have a bullet hole in the middle of her forehead. Saw Jacqui O'Connell and wondered over to see if she knew how Tony was doing. Pretty good was the response. Through this section was the hardest for me, I’d gone into a really dark place in my mind, it wasn’t anything I can describe it wasn’t sadness, anxiousness but a feeling of just nothingness. I likened this to being sucked up by a dementor from Harry Potter.

Lake Tikitapu at 45.7 in 9:32

FOOD INTAKE: 2 peanut butter sangas, 2 handfuls of potato crisps, multiple pieces of cold pizza, and 1 choc brownie (lesson learned) and fill up a bottle with Tailwind.
After a few minutes, we headed out across the road over the timing mat and that's when Caz spotted her husband, John. She was so pleased and a little bit surprised to see him. He walked with us a bit, chatting about other runners he'd seen, many we knew. Asked us how we were going. I was totally surprised to see John and grateful for him being there, although I think I was still in another domain in my mind, I later found out he waited at the aid station for 4 hours!! Knowing John loves meeting new people and chatting, I was at first worried he waited so long but then happy knowing he would’ve revelled in the large group of spectators and been impressed by the runners. It definitely gave me a bit more of encouragement knowing we were closing in on the finish.

Caz and I at Lake Tikitapu.
(Photo credit: John Donovan)

A quick photo, goodbyes, then we were off again. The side of the lake, then turn right up along a grass slope, roped off from an adjoining parking area. A group of spectators clap us and then tell us that it's “all downhill to the finish after this hill”. I called this bullshit. Been caught too many times before with well-meaning spectators giving me info they think I want to hear, rather than need to hear.
A gradual climb up Tarawera Road on a tight shoulder with cars whizzing past. Turn left, then immediately right onto a trail just as Caz's watch shows signs of dying. Unlike mine, hers will lose the whole plot. So she stops and saves it, then sets up Strava to record the remainder. Came out into an area of recent logging, the trail/gravel road running parallel with the road we'd just been on. Came across a marshal at a fork in the road, barely a teenager. After several dodgy or unbelievable info re distance run and left to go, Caz asked him how far, and he assured us that it was most definitely only 13k to go. Caz, ecstatic, demanded a hug! Got one from him! We suddenly worked out that in the next k Caz would have run 50k, another milestone (44k being her previous longest distance, we noted it at the time). Stopped to get the photo, un-logged pines in the background.
Thought it was going to be flat here. But no, a few more climbs to grind out. I was doing the run ahead, then stop and wait, consequently leapfrogging the same runners. They must have been getting sick of me by now. Came across a female runner, 2 ITB straps on her knees. Couldn't have been working, she was walking as if on crushed glass.

Caz at the 50k mark,
celebrating the milestone.
(Photo credit: Caz Donovan)

Finally hit a downhill and more washed out, muddy trail. Also started spotting houses on the outskirts of Rotorua (Owhata actually). Caz caught up with me and we ran/walked through here. A few chats about what it takes to run ultras, mentally and physically. Caz doubting herself, but I was assuring her she has what it takes. I mean we are basically 53/54k's into a 62k ultra. Even getting to that point is an achievement. Run on a bit and came up to a Marshall pointing us down a road, “1k to Redwoods aid station”. I look back for Caz, but she is still coming. I start off down the hill on the road. Slowly at first, then as it turns to bitumen I gain speed. Very soon I am barrelling down at 5min/k as it twists and turns. Through a gate at the bottom, then a 400 metre flat section to the aid station. I ran all the way in, happy to be able to stretch out for a short period. Spectators still here waiting for their runners, clapping and calling out names. Such a hoot. Hit the aid station, surrounded by vollies wanting to help us get food and drink.

Redwoods Aid Station at 56k in 11:40? (Watch dead, didn't know, didn't care)

Even here, being so close to the finish I'd had enough, I was metabolically spent, mentally I felt ok, but cardiovascular felt completely depleted. Started sweating again. (Sweating or swearing?)
FOOD INTAKE: Handful of almonds, a handful of potato crisps, 2 cups of coke, 1 cup of ginger beer. Refill my bottle with coke. (had enough of tailwind).
Caz in soon afterwards, only stayed a short time, then we set off, walking at first until she was ready to run again. The trail went into a parkland, where we turned left after a k. A woman in our race ahead, power walking rather than running. We start running, catch her then stop again, she strode ahead. Now heading west alongside SH30 (the road that goes to the airport), and we are joined by a 102k runner with his pacer (pacers allowed for the last 20k of their run). All of us come out to a bridge to cross Puarenga Stream, the sulphurous smell of Rotorua quite strong here. Marshall, another young girl, assures us 2.5k to go. Marshalls on the other side of the bridge (no greater than 50 metres in length) assure us it is 2k to go. (See previous about dodgy race instructions). Sign at the path as we go under the bridge on the path to the finish line says 1.7k to Government Gardens, our finish line. We all have a laugh, yep we'll take that one!
On the other side of the bridge, we all start to run again. Caz and I for about 600 metres, walk for a bit, run a bit more. We are approaching the sulphur flats, areas of active geothermal activity including steam vents, sulphurous yellow rocks, and a barren landscape where nothing grows. As we run into these areas Caz is concerned (she has sulphur allergies). She pulls her VUR THIR over her mouth, holds her hand out for me to grab and we run through this area hand-in-hand. Clear that area, walk again and a woman in our race slowly trots by, very cheerful and chatty. We run again, pass her back, run across another area of sulphur. By now we could see the lights of Government Gardens and associated buildings. It is getting dark, but we resist getting out our head torches. Cars are streaming down the road to our left, headlights sweeping across the tops of the bushes there, and we run again until we are to turn right at a hotel/convention centre. We are so close now, we know it. The stench through the sulphur flats was the worst part of the entire day for me, already struggling to get some breath I felt like I was being asphyxiated, kept dry retching.
Caz pulls me aside and says she doesn't want the woman we've just passed to beat her. Nothing more than a small mental battle to keep her going on, keep herself focused. “No worries”, I say, “I'll keep an eye out”. We continue on around a carpark, but as we exit and hit paths in a park again I glance back and spy the woman only a 100 metres behind us. Tell Caz, “Oh fuck..”, and off we run again. Passed a thermal pool, we can hear the PA, music, lights from the finish line blaring away.
We are close enough that adrenaline takes over and we just keep running. A short path, then turn right, the finish line straight ahead, spectators clapping and cheering. We cross the first timing mat 100 metres out. It is there as a backup if the main fails, and also so the PA can call up facts about us to read out. Hear my name called out, then we hear our friends Kate, Matt, Braddon, John and Stacey calling out to us, clapping and cheering as we both run up to the finish.

Caz and I finishing. Woman photo left was our power walking friend
from Redwoods. (Official photo from http://photos4sale.nz)

Finish Line, 62.4k's in 12:32. 

It's all over. Amazingly, Paul Charteris is there to hand me my medal and give me a hug. Same for Caz. We get a photo with our medal on the finish line, then we both hug, long and hard, words exchanged, a bond formed, memories forever. Hard to believe I’d finished, I was still overwhelmed physically, but so grateful my body held up, especially my ankles! I mentally felt ok but medical staff must’ve thought otherwise, I don’t really remember what they said, but weighed me (probably to assess dehydration) and I was shocked to see I’d lost over a kilo through the day!

Caz with her finisher's medal. This photo, more than others, makes me
the proudest. (Official photo from http://photos4sale.nz)

Physically I'm fine, felt great, mentally and emotionally I'm spent, nothing left after 62k. Medical staff greet us, assess us and see how we are. I tell them I'm fine, and honestly, I was. Caz felt a bit off, had a chat with medical staff and was weighed as a precaution. Slightly underwhelmed by the food in the recovery area (really looking forward to hot savoury food, maybe some Turducken?). Chat with Matt and Kate, Matt had a great run. Tony O'Connell comes in, ran a fantastic race in the 102, so happy for him, inspires me as a runner.
We had a wristband strapped on at race rego day before. It was for a free beer after we finished. All cock-a-hoop I decided to have one. Then it all went a bit downhill for me. Went from hero to zero in 30 seconds. Hunched over, hands on knees as wave after wave of nausea hit me. We'd talked about heading home, but I was not keen on vomiting in somebodies car, let alone the recovery tent. I suddenly announced I was going outside and just took off. Matt came and sat with me and chatted. He'd had a similar reaction after finishing his race. We sat for a period, and it took my mind off things and eventually, the feeling passed. I was (and am still) very touched he did that. Helped me considerably in the aftermath.

Shaking the hand of race organiser, Paul Charteris as I collect my medal
from him. (Official photo from http://photos4sale.nz)

Matt and Stacey drove me back to the unit. I felt better, just needed a shower and a lie-down. Muddy shoes dumped outside the unit, I'd deal with them in the morning, race kit thrown in the bathroom. Lie down, Facebook for a few hours (so many notifications, so little time…) until about 1:30 in the morning when I was suddenly hungry enough to eat a muffin and have a cup of green tea.
Slept till 8:00 am

Sunday - There's got to be a morning after.

Got up and immediately check the phone for the progress of a friend doing the miler. Bec still hadn't registered a time at the 2nd last timing mat. Little did I know she was finishing pretty much as I got up. My Facebook feed still in meltdown (All Tarawera), trying to keep up with all. Had breakfast, coffee and then laze around for a bit. Body felt fine, legs a bit tight, overall fatigue etc., but I was good. I cooled down fairly quickly and started to get cold, John wanted to get me back to the hotel but I was worried about you, however, Stacey assured me they would look after you. I slept well apart from my legs being hot. I also recovered really well, apart from a pus mashed up toe, but grateful it was only one!!
On reflection, I couldn’t have asked for a more supportive, passionate and sincere person to run my first true ultra with. In those conditions you judged me perfectly, allowing me to experience my own journey, and to feel every emotion that comes with it but just being ahead of me for reassurance it was all part of becoming an ultra runner.

A bit of fun on the Monday after the race, Luge at Stratosfare
in Rotorua. Jamie, Ali, Dazza and Trish.

Go to Fat Dog café with Caz and John, caught up with Trish and Ali and co after they ran the 102 and 87k races. We swap war stories, I hear about Mark Swinkels having to pull out of the 102k race after helping an injured runner for several hours.
Back to the unit, spend an hour cleaning the shoes, race kit, hydration vest etc. With the wet weather, I'm concerned they won't dry before I fly back on Tuesday.
At 4pm we head off to the miler presentation to see my friend Bec standing on the podium in 4th place. A fantastic achievement from such an unassuming and humble person. A great speech from Paul Charteris, who promptly bursts into tears afterwards the strain and emotion of running this event there for all to see.

A Shoutout to all who fronted the start line, and all who supported/cheered us on the day 

62k

Caz Donovan – My partner in crime. We talked about this nearly a year ago as a joint venture. Despite you telling me repeatedly it was okay for me to run ahead (read, head off and run your own race), I refused to do so. My word was my bond, we would finish together.
Shane Smedley – Fellow VUR/DTR/LTR who has come a long way, and continues to improve immensely.
Jared Skull and Braddon Atkinson in a 62k relay team -  The boys did well as a throw together team, neither noted as trail runners. Was great seeing them on the course.
Matt Blashki – You ran a fantastic race in appalling conditions. And I will never forget our little chat after I'd finished my race.
Justin Cutler – Despite torn meniscus and a stack in the dairy aisle at Countdown (supermarket, not the ABC music show...), completed the course. Gutsy effort.

87k

Ali Moxham – guts, determination and always with a smile. Never fails to impress me. And great fun on the luge Monday evening, what a hoot.
Heidi Cutler – smashed the first half of the course to catch Justin, and consequently ran herself into 4th place woman overall. Just sensational.

102k

Trish  Yates – What more can be said about you, Trish. Since I've met you you've gone from strength to strength. And such a wonderful supporter of me and many other runners. Was fabulous seeing you there.
Tony O'Connell – What a fabulous run, a great friend and someone who impresses and inspires me constantly.
Brett Tilley – Is there nothing you can't achieve Brett? 102 here, then backing up for Shotover? And such a friendly and assuming runner, teamwork with Trish helping her achieve her goal.
Mark Swinkels – Just massive kudos for sacrificing your race to help an injured runner. We would all do what you did (I hope), but I sincerely hope that the race organisers recognise your efforts in some way. To Vic ultra and trail runners you are a legend.
Deb Sharp – Mate, really bummed your race turned out the way it did. But you got Shotover done (albeit with a medical emergency thrown in!).
Stuart Hughes - Always great to see you running so well, and such an understated performer.

Miler

Bec Howe – Another runner who through deeds and actions inspires me as a runner. So humble and unassuming, your dedication to training and preparing for this race gave you the deserved result.
Simon Neale – Such a strong run on that course, and like Bec unassuming, yet dedicated.

Supporters (It can't be easy waiting for us, hours on end)

John Donovan – Caz's partner, waited patiently for us at Lake Tiktapu and helped Caz considerably there.
Jacqui O'Connell - You do so much supporting and volunteering, you deserve as much recognition of Tony's result as he does.
Jamie Moxham – The awesome Jamie of the Jamie and Ali show! Great seeing you at Okataina, why my smile was a mile wide. Your support on-course for Ali going well into the night (and following morning) was fantastic.
Kate Atkinson – A wonderful supporter of all runners, so great seeing you at Okataina, bubbly and chatty and confident for Caz. Know how much you've help Caz in the lead up to Tarawera.
Kathy Swinkels – What a tough day, not knowing where Mark was, and what might have happened to him. Thanks for the shout-out on the day at Okataina, was greatly appreciated.
Darren Yates – The irrepressible partner to Trish. Pacer for her for the last 20k and such a genuinely happy person to have around. Great seeing you.
Stacey – Lovely to meet you Stacey, and thanks for the lift home after the race. Sorry if this feral runner stank your car up! See you again somewhere around the traps.
Lou – Simons partner. Crewing for a runner from 4:00am on Saturday to the early hours of Sunday morning is above and beyond the call of duty. Well done.
Suzi Smedley – Shane's partner. Followed Shane around the course. Lovely bumping into you at Firmin Field, sorry if I didn't immediately recognise you, I was zoning into race mode. And in my defence, you had the hood pulled up on your rain jacket!
And I'm sure I've missed people. To all who shared the journey and the weekend, thanks. Even without writing this blog, I have been reliving moments, times and emotions for the last 2 weeks with such a smile on my face.

*Confession Time: My shoes were purchased 3 weeks prior to Tarawera with the thinking I would break them in on a couple of trail runs. Usually like to have at least 50k, if not triple figures on a pair of shoes before racing. Didn't happen. One hurried parkrun the weekend before, and front up with a measly 5k on them. But before I talk up the brilliance of my Brooks Cascadia 12 (for the benefit of the sponsors, that I don't have…), I select shoes for comfort above most other criteria. It worked, not one blister or rub point. And they got a serious thrashing in the mud, tree roots, rocks etc., but survived it all.

Next race is Roller Coaster Run, 21k. Probably completed by the time this blog gets out! I will either have worked out I've recovered well enough to have a crack at my PB, or have crashed in a screaming heap somewhere.

Until next time….

Blog title is taken from Boards of Canada - In A Beautiful Place Out In The Country.

Breakin' Down

A Brief Summary

The last time England cricket team toured Australia, they were wiped 5-0. It was the 2103/2014 summer and in mid-January, I was introduced to trail running at Two Bays 28k.
Roll forward 4 years, England tour again (this time 4-0), and I once again toed the start line (this time the 56k).
Frustratingly though I have not competed in the intervening years. All lost through injury. If it means I can only get to Two Bays in an Ashes year, so be it. But gee that is gunna be tough if it means every 4 years. They say your first is always the one you hold closest to the heart, and this race has that hold on me.
To say my build-up has been bigger than Ben Hur would be an understatement, except that while the Ben Hur thing (the movie) was anything but an understatement, it was grande, on a grande scale.
Anyway, what was I saying? Yes, the build up. Early bird entries opened in July, special pricing after 9:00pm on a weeknight. Might have been slightly overexcited and jumped in to enter the 56. I didn't have a qualifier, no problems, been here before. So many friends were in parts excited or anxious, but supportive; this was going to a big 6 months lead-in.
As previously blogged, I had a pretty good last 6 months of 2017. Wonderland 36, Surf Coast Century 50k, and Melbourne Marathon. A break after MM, then a slow build-up with the intention to hit peak distance in mid-December. Never quite got there, new house taking up a lot of time. But still, as the New Year rolled in, I felt I was ready. A 41k training run on the flatter sections of the course 2 weeks out was a real confidence booster.

Race Day minus 1

Stayed with my friend Grace in St. Andrews on Saturday night. Rain belting down most of the night, wind howling through cracks in between the window and the sill.  This was not the summer weather I had been training through for the last couple of months.

Race Day

Morning dawns a bit calmer, although the weather still very unsummery.

Drive to Cape Schanck, meet lots of people, many wishing me well on my return. This has been talked up a fair bit. But I'm quite calm, trail races don't hold the same fear factor as a road marathon.

DTR crew ready to roll at Cape Schanck. Stephen, Nick, Narelle, myself,
Ross, Cassandra (reporter extraordinaire), Majid and Belle. Photo credit: Cassandra Gash

Jumper off, race kit on, watch fired up, countdown and then off we go. Well for 30 metres before the first bottleneck gets us! Lots of chat, nerves, ego, attention deficit, whatever, as we make our way along the path with Bushrangers Bay over our right shoulders.

Race start, and off we go. Photo credit: Cassandra Gash

The First 16

The first photographer on the trail, people jumping, me thinking I'm not wasting energy that early!

Down the steps at the newly named Stairs of Spontaneous Poetry (love your work Cam Baillie), everyone laughing how they wouldn't be (laughing) on the way back.

A beautiful single track, still in large groups but most of us content to stick to the group pace, plenty of places to pass later on. The pace is fine, 6 to 6:30 pace. We are mostly in a long line, the occasional overtaking manoeuver to keep everyone on their toes. But mostly it is all good, no incidents, no-one getting upset, we are all settling into the rhythm of the race.

Hit Boneo Road aid station at the 34-minute mark. I knew a few people here, and it was here that my great friend Chrissy had a massive smile, and her arms spread wide for the BIGGEST hug ever! I'd only run 6k, what was the return in 5+ hours going to be like? It was a great way to send me on my way. Chris and Michael from Lysterfield Trail Runners also here, as well as Kim Day, Race Director Rohan's wife. She had chatted with me at Wonderland last August about how happy she was going to be seeing me come back through there on the way back. Trusting I would be happy too! 

Exiting Boneo Road, 6k in.
Photo credit: Andrew Ross.

Cross the road, lots of peeps spectating, several friends there shouting out, photos being taken etc. Back into the bush and onto the diversion. This is in place to avoid congestion, head-ons etc. as the 28k runners run south, and we run north. Another friend Nigel is marshalling here to direct us up the correct path. Another hug (Nigel has had a torrid 2017 for him and his family, was just brilliant him and Jacinta came out to volunteer), and off we head up Long Pt. Circuit. The first section is through a climbing single track, a bit overgrown in places such that we get sprayed with wet foliage. A right turn, sharp left then we are on to a graded road, come rough track.

By now the groups are thinning somewhat. Some of us are electing to walk some of the steeper sections, knowing what's coming up, many others keep running.

The next aid station at the 10k mark pops up around a corner. Although we could hear them a mile away. Kerry Schilke was there spectating, cheering us all on. She would keep bobbing up all over the place during the run, following a group of runners from the very popular 'Running in the Burbs' group. They were ahead and behind me for most of the day, hence why Kerry was there lots.

Started finding empty gel wrappers along here. One looked old, maybe from our run here a fortnight ago, another was clearly today's. I stopped to pick them up when I could, fully intending to get rid of them at the next aid station (or the one after that, or the turnaround, or maybe on the way back, or ..... Yep, carried them all the way to the finish line). The weather has cleared after early drizzle and the sun is warm but race conditions are near perfect. Second gel, more sports drink. Stop 5 minutes later to eat some Cliff Bar and then think I should have done it at the aid station, that is, had a yak with the vollies (dumb...)

Roads and Suburbia

Hyslops aid station marks the start of the roads, bits of suburbia, sections of small reserve before we get to the back of Arthurs Seat. A couple of friends here at the aid station, Grace who I stayed with the night before, and Kat, one of the founding RD's at Inverloch parkrun. Both ushering the runners to the marquee, telling us what was on offer. I decided I had enough water and food, so went running through. Only to bump into Danny Burgess. He'd stopped to get food in and realised he'd started a bit too fast.

Danny (far left of picture) and I travelling well down
Duells Road. Photo credit: Toni Mackinlay.

Danny and I ran down Hyslops together, across Browns Road where there were lots of spectators and into the bush section beyond. Nasty little climb at the end of this bush then back out on to a gravel road again, heading towards Coolgowie Bushland Reserve. This is the back end of Rosebud, and a bitumen road looms ahead, a few cars, spectators (Nicole and Toni from Victorian Ultra Runners, VUR, taking photos, calling out names). Most of us are still having a few chats with one another, the pace is deliberately cruisey as we have a fair few k's left to run (and a double date with Arthurs Seat).

Through Coolgowie Bushland Reserve, past the Aid station here (someone telling me my board shorts were great, matching my legs, or some such statement..) and more bitumen as we climb Coolgowie Road to turn right up Waterfall Gully Road, heading to Arthurs Seat NP. DTR Diana was marshalling at the entrance, taking photos, accepting hugs, and then we were through and our first date with Arthurs.

Up and Then Down...

But before the date proper we had to deal with his bastard brother 'The hill at Maclarens Dam', a short pinch of 1.4k that starts very steep, then flattens out. So steep at the start, that as soon as the gradient gets to about 10 degrees, the natural tendency is to run. Then stop when you realise you can't really run this. It dips down, you think "Bewdy, climbing at an end", but no. Fecker goes on a bit longer, on road, all the way. Views across to Sorrento and Nepean Point on this day are wonderful (excepting those darkish clouds over Port Phillip Bay).

Climbing finally stops. By now Danny has got ahead of me, Mark Liam is with me (another VUR) and we are chatting with a girl doing her first ultra. What a great way to tick that one off. Turn into the trail proper and now is the waiting game to see when the front-runners return in the opposite direction. Wasn't long before on a section of flowing single trail runners in front were calling out "RUNNERS!!" Well yes, we were runners, but... Then Ash Bennet, Francesco Ciancio and another runner came flying around a corner. Myself and 2 other runners neatly side-stepping off the track before rejoining it. Closely followed by Majell Backhausen and then the first women, Lucy Bartholomew flying past and looking super strong.

And then it was a steady stream of runners coming back. A few saying hello, people I know, and people who know me. Gave me quite a boost. Then finally hit a pop-up aid station, a VUR had set up with coke, potato crisps and lollies. On the way back I would avail myself of this.

Then the descent towards Dromana. had a female runner pass me down here. She knew me, knew my name (wasn't on the bib), knew my running and injury history and my history with this event. Which was great, except when it came to her it was 'bar of soap' territory. I'm really sorry if you're reading this, I'm shithouse with names (and faces in reality), and feel terrible. Halfway down bump into fellow BBR runner Colin Hart gamely climbing back up. A quick hello, he tells me I'm looking strong (well thanks, but I am going downhill at this point!) and down I go. Start seeing lots more runners now, many I know on their way to PB's, strong runs etc.

Finally, I come to the end of the trail and hit the bitumen section on Lachlan Parade that leads us directly to Dromana. Now I have an issue with this section. As discussed with Nick Cimdins, why does it seem to take longer to run downhill to Dromana, than it does to turn around and hike major sections of that back up? The run down took forever. Those black clouds out over Port Phillip Bay 25 or so minutes ago? Materialised as a light shower along here. My mood darkened accordingly, and I just wanted to get into Dromana and see friends and refuel and get off the sodding road (and have a piss, busting most of the way down Arthurs, too many other runners to stop. Then HELLO suburbia...)

That Was the Easy Bit

Entering the aid station at Dromana. Slap on the arse from Matt.
Closely followed in by friend Drew Dunstone. Photo credit: Paula Pettingill.

Then after a millennium of running, Dromana aid station came into sight. Baw Baw Runner Carolyn was there directing us left to go across the timing pads, Matt Veenstra was there (slap on the arse probably needed when I was leaving aid station, not entering 😁 ) and Jamie Smith, all there to help me out. One of the icons of Two Bays is ringing the bell at the turnaround. And gee I gave that bell a bloody great bash! Stopped, grabbed some replacement sports drink (thanks, Warick King for the help there), gels and ran off to the toilet. Crucially I didn't pick up a spare bottle of Pickle Juice, thinking I was right. Would later pay dearly for that decision.

Colin Hart just before Dromana aid station.
Photo credit: Paula Pettingill.

Mental state better, partially recovered I left Dromana and headed back up Arthurs Seat for the 2nd of 2 dates today. Still lots of runners coming in, hi-5s and greetings as we all passed. Passed Kate Smith along here. She was volunteering, ringing a cowbell loudly and cheering us all on. Was a nice throwback to me, don't really know Kate well but met here through a mutual friend in 2014 when she ran the 56, and I ran my first 28 here. Further up at the end of the road before we returned to the Arthurs Seat trail, gun ultra runner Kath MacMillan was also there with a cowbell. But I was walking this section, "bell only rings for walkers!" I was told. "Douche grade hill" might also have been mentioned. Thanks, Kath...

Back up the trail and bumped into fellow DTR's Majid and Stephen. Majid looked like he wanted to get on with it, Stephen looked like he was picking his way deliberately and slowly up the trail. We soon all separated again. The most I remember about climbing here was hoping that my legs would be able to run again when the gradient flattened out. When it did I was able to run, but the sections over Arthurs had taken their toll. Still with 24k's+ to go, things weren't looking flash. Nevertheless, I've been here before, I knew I needed to just keep moving as moods change, the body adapts etc.
Exited the trail, then the downhill section that was the bastard uphill section that was (still is) the road to Maclarens Dam! The final steep section involved a number of us tip-toeing down on the road. Either that or run on the grass verge, but that didn't look any better, to be honest. Finally onto the dam wall and then back out onto Waterfall Gully Road. Backtracking to Coolgowie on roads that gently descend was fine for my legs, but on Coolgowie Road I felt the first tentative twinges of cramp in the right hamstring and left calf. Suddenly realised I hadn't grabbed the extra Pickle Juice but thought if I keep my gels and sports drink up I would survive. Stopped at the aid station at the bottom, friend Lou helping me out, everyone asking me how I was going. One of the frontrunners of the race had pulled out here. Franky was hanging around issuing orders, encouragement etc.

Through Coolgowie Busland Reserve, then back onto another road. It was along here, and into the next reserve that I was spying more empty gel packets. Picked a couple up before working out that I couldn't bend over to pick them up. Actually, barefaced lie. I could bend over, standing up was going to be the weak link in the chain.

Just Plugging Away

The section from Duells Road to Browns Road is a phytophthora free area. Wash down pads at either end for us to scrub our shoes and for me a reminder of the fragility of areas we run in and the impacts we can have. Crossed Browns Road and then contemplated the climb up Hyslops. I was well aware when Danny and I ran down this 4 hours previous how steep and long it actually was. Running back was just confirmation really. Ran/walked until it got too steep, then walked all the way into the aid station. Grace and Kat and Bernie Hughes all here, all checking us out and giving us what we needed. I stopped here for just over a minute and a half, recovering and mentally preparing myself for the next section through Greens, and my favourite section on this course.

Baw Baw Runners finished the 28k. L to R: Ash Buchanan, Paul Myers, Catherine Mckenna and Paul Fallon.
Photo credit: Linda Myers.

It was in here that I ran alongside several runners, leap-frogging one another for most of this section. Jason, Kay and one who I shall refer to as 'Runner in yellow shirt'. Actually, his name is Andrew, I just didn't know that at the time! This section gently descends, for the most part, through the beautiful bush. Lots of tree ferns, eucalyptus, bird life. The dappled sunlight streaming through the canopy made it humid in here, but it wasn't hot, just a bit warm. But it really was perfect running conditions. Just a pity my legs decided this was the section to pack it in...

Cramps came and went. Run, cramp, massage, walk it out, run again, rinse repeat. It was a slog. All the way through here was the same. But still I pushed on, every step is a step closer to finish, every time you run it happens quicker. Our little group leapfrogged, we chatted, encouraged one another and just kept moving forward. Andrew (from Brisbane, did I mention that?) were side-by-side in sections here, nit chatting, juts running and getting it done. As I've said, this section is wonderful, and it helped to salve the mental battles I was waging. There are a couple of short steep little climbs, not much, but these really started to make the cramps come on strong.

It took me 1:15 to get from the top of Hyslops to Boneo Road. All that time running, walking, running again. Keeping our little group in sight. Sometimes getting ahead (as we were all battling some issues of either fatigue, cramping or injury etc.), but we never got too far ahead or behind each other. There was a small aid station somewhere near Long Point Road that had coke, water and various goodies. Stop here, a quick chat with Jac who I met at Wonderland, and then on I pressed to Boneo Road. I was really setting my sights on getting to Boneo. I'd been using each aid station as little markers to aim for. No more than 10k apart, their appearance a blessing, the leaving a sad but necessary fact if I wanted to get this done. About 2k from Boneo, I lost sight of my friend in yellow (Andrew, from Brisbane, apparently we'd met before!). We'd been urging each other on for the nearly an hour, but he was clearly stronger and was running faster.

Now Boneo was next, and a bit special. Last aid stop before the finish, set in a pleasant grove of trees just off the road, and I have special memories of this place. First Two Bays in 2014, 22k mark of my 28k run and I hit this station having run strongly through Greens. But I had needed water, and or sports drink desperately. Grabbed the first cup I saw downed it, then realised that it was coke. Not normally an issue, but I was 2 months into a no added sugar diet, and the combination of sugar and caffeine had the required effect as I mowed down 20+ runners on the way to Cape Schanck! Following year, as a volunteer there I witnessed the (what I thought then as) superhuman feats by many runners in the 56. And I was on hand to help my friend Chrissy in her first Two Bays after she'd had a pretty bad race. 2018, and roles are reversed as she is there, and I'm running in.

An aid station that was an oasis in a world of hurt for me. So great seeing these guys and girls.
My 3 friends are from far left, Chris, Chrissy and Michael. Photo credit ?

After the gentle descent through Greens, the path comes out of the forest into open plain grassland, and then the trail climbs to Boneo Road. Traffic noise becomes evident, then still a kilometre out, the noise from the volunteers can be heard. Shouting, yelling, a horn of some description, cowbells; a grin spreads across my face. That last climb was a struggle, but before I knew it, the exit to the road appeared, and across the road I ran to the aid station.

An Oasis in my World of Pain 

Finishing.
Photo credit: Tony O'Connell

The noise was full-on. Spectators lining the path in, my friend Rose who I haven't seen in years is there, having run the 28k in the morning. Friends Chris and Michael were there on hand to greet me as I got to the table. Other vollies came over, offering water, sports drinks, coke etc. I was a bit dazed here but in good spirits. But I was also hurting pretty hard, the cramps and the fatigue really getting to me. Chrissy was busy attending to another runner, but was soon there to see me and get me all that I needed, give me the biggest hug and send me on my way. Was just the boost I needed. A few kinds words from Michael and Nigel, and zooper dooper from Kim Day and off I went again.

Finishing.
Photo credit: Rose Fuller

I'd had high hopes that I could run most of the way to Cape Schanck, but 2 minutes down the track, another eye-watering cramp hit me. More sports drink, one last gel and I continued on. In my mind's eye, I was slowing down and being passed by plenty of runners along here. And that may well have been the case, but a look at the results shows that I pulled back many places over the 2nd half of the course! Finally, I reached the horrid steps up the far side of Burrabong Creek and hobbled up them. By now even walking up these steps raises the heart rate.  From here it is 2.5k to the finish. I don't care about the distance, I just keep going until I start registering markers like the first sighting of the lighthouse, the several benches along the way, the road that comes in from the right.

Then, as with Boneo, the noise of the finish line can be heard. Is it a trick of the south-westerly breeze making it seem closer? Another runner looms up on my right and passes me. She looks stronger, but we both walk the next hill, I stay close behind, using her as inspiration to keep going. Hoping she doesn't think I feel slighted that she's passed me. I'm beyond that, finishing is the only thing. Kate Smith appears from around a corner, cowbell still going, still yelling encouragement to me.

One Day Son, This Race is Gunna End

Smiling, at the end of an ultra...
Photo credit: Matt Veenstra

And all of a sudden we enter the wide open area just before finish line. People are still lining the path in. Lots of yelling of names, people holding out their hands to hi-5 me and other runners. Such a great feeling, all the pain suddenly forgotten, all the cramps suddenly disappeared (I hope...), and the speed picks up as we turn right and climb the final stretch to the finish line. The sun is out, people are yelling out, a volunteer is there waiting to place a medal around my neck. There is nothing I wouldn't give at that very moment to be bottled and brought back at times of trouble.

Cross the finish lines arms aloft, then stop the watch and receive the biggest hug from friend Karen who'd been getting anxious wondering where I was. She placed the medal on my neck and then directed me to food and drink on the table. Honestly couldn't eat or drink anything, but an ice cold can of coke did the trick. The only time I'll ever drink the stuff, during and post ultra. I was walking around for a bit, under cover of the finish line, mainly because I didn't think I could sit without cramping.

Standing in the finish line area, can of coke in hand, my friend in yellow comes over to say hello. Turns out we'd met before. He'd run Warragul parkrun several weeks back, then the 2 of us had met on the Two Towns trail between Warragul and Drouin 3 weeks before the race. His sister-in-law recognised me from parkrun on the day. Small world indeed.

The Aftermath

December 2017 marked my biggest ever distance and vertical climbed since I've kept records. Yet that alone wasn't enough to get me through Two Bays 56. Yet I don't think I'm too far away in terms of strength and conditioning. Continue training, strength work in the gym, and avoid over-training injury and the gains will come. And eat early in the race, I'm still leaving it far too late, when the point of no return has passed.
Such a great event, I will be back next year for sure.
A big thank you to all the organising crew, Rohan Day, Michael Clarke and Kate Ablett. As well as all the volunteers (the aid stations are the best), and lastly all the other runners. Always run in the great spirit of companionship, and friendly rivalry it is the perfect start to the racing calendar year.

Next event is Tarawera 62 in New Zealand.
Then Roller Coaster 21 2 weeks after that. Recovery the key between events.

Until next time....

Victorian Ultra Runners (VUR) group shot. Big representation will look great
when VUR colours are on display.

Optimistic

The Year Ahead

(Although hindsight is a wonderful thing, it's good to try and look forward to forecast the journey)

In 2013 I fell in love with trail running. Funny really, as I'd bushwalked for years with my wife, and was a reasonably handy road runner. But yet I never connected the dots. It took a series of events leading from me finally having a crack at a marathon, meeting other runners through the running forum, and a shared desire to 'change it up a bit' that brought me to the start line of Two Bays.
So technically it was 2014, but that is hair-splitting of the highest order, in my humble opinion. That race was documented in 2 parts, so enamoured of the experience was I, and was really the start of this blog, to some degree.

First trail run. Posing alongside the Two Bays car, our legs covered in the dust from the trail, the 'Two Bays tan' as we affectionately call it! And a lifelong love affair with trail running had commenced.

Unfortunately, that's where the good story ends. The following 3 years I trained hard, I got injured, I bailed out of the race. It was a cycle that I was doomed to repeat in 2015, 2016, and 2017. 3 years, all passed me by as I either volunteered or spectated. I still had fun (not running in the blast furnace of 2016 was nothing less than bittersweet), but I always vowed to return.
But roll on 2018. Sitting here, typing away on a balmy summers evening, I am in taper mode. No injuries, illness, nothing is looking to get in the way. And I am ready, having prepared for the best part of 6 months since early bird entries opened.

But this is only part of my racing programme for the year. Currently, the calendar looks like this;
January- Two Bays 56k, 
February - Tarawera 62k (or possibly 65.4 if race organisers reroute some of the course), 
February - Roller Coaster run 21.5k (basically a sprint 😆), 
March - Duncans Run 50k.
May - Margaret River Ultra 80k
July - Macedon 50k,
August - Wonderland 36k (another sprint...), then 
September - Surf Coast Century 100k.
Get the picture, it's a busy year with some big races. For the most part, it will be minimal training as I roll from one race to another, but that is what is needed for this ageing body. Recovery as important as training.

Long range forecast for Dromana as of 6 January. I'll take that.

But, back to Two Bays. Weather forecast looks like it could be anywhere between 18 and 25 degrees. Always a talking point in the lead up to the race, but in reality, there is nothing we can do, just race to the conditions. Oh, and I'm doing the 56, a longheld ambition to run the distance that this race was founded on. A 41k training run there last week showed me what was needed, but also gave me confidence that I have the ability and the mental capacity to run it well.
I'm looking forward to testing myself on this course. A few hills (Arthurs Seat the main biggie), but plenty of sections that are ripe for running. And there will be heaps of support along the way, friends cheering us on, plenty more volunteering at the many aid stations along the way.

The Year Past

I keep a written diary for running. A bit old school, but it documents some of the things that online diaries don't always allow you to do; weather, diet, feelings etc. As I flicked through 2017's, I came across an entry on January 1, a series of goals for the year. To be honest, I've never been one to do the whole New Years Resolution bit, but it must have been my frame of mind last year that made me put into writing the things that I needed to focus on. And I managed to do all 6;

1. Stay injury free,
2. Get back to racing weight,
3. Continue strength and core training,
4. Reduce race goals and expectations,
5. Enjoy my running, celebrate the social side, and
6. Give back to running what you have got from it.

I haven't set any goals or promises for 2018, and maybe I don't need to. I have an ambitious year ahead, the main thing is to be sensible, take it in my stride and enjoy the journey.

Until next time...