This is What you Want.... This is What you Get

September 30th 2016 seems a long time ago. In running terms for an injured runner, it can be an eternity. That is the date where I picked up my latest injury. Yet another. This one a little more troublesome than others. The dreaded Plantar Facitis. Or just PF as most runners refer to it. Pretty much in the way that characters in Harry Potter books would never refer to Voldemort by name. Call it something else, more palatable, easier to spell as well. Months of relentless pain underfoot, hobbling out of bed in the morning like a crippled septuagenarian, seeking lots of 2nd opinions.

But this isn't all about me, other friends have had injuries, longer or shorter, but no less debilitating. Others have given away running altogether, the thought of picking themselves up off the injury mat one more time just as appealing as how the ageing footballer views another round of pre-season training. Sometimes, you just have to let the head do the talking, the heart long since decided it was a forlorn hope.

And I wouldn't be lying if I said there were times when I contemplated the prospect of not running. You've got to consider it at some point in life. Up until now I've had a good run with injuries (or lack of), and you mustn't get disheartened by a recent run of poor form and/or constant injuries.
And today's blog isn't a whinging retrospective of my recent lack of running, but more so an affirmation of the power of pigheadedness! As I once again resume training, I hope this serves as a timely reminder to those of you still injured, that there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

And for those of you reading this, still injured, still not running;
Go and stand in front of the mirror and ask yourself, where do you want to be in 20, 30 years time? How much does the rehab hurt, or bore you shitless, how much does your lack of activity really bug you? What is the long term versus the short term goals? Is the problem mental more than physical? (often hard for you to understand, and harder for others to comprehend). Answer those questions, and hopefully the rest falls into place.

Until next time.

Step On

Run an ultra they said, it'll be fun they said!
It was, especially ticking it off with a very good friend, and having the support of so many of our trail running friends on the day.
But the day, and especially the lead up, were not without some difficulties for the both of us. In the end, it made the day even more special.

Where it All Started

Sometime in 2015, Chrissy Good and I talked about running an ultra together. Initially Roller Coaster Run (RCR) in the Dandenongs, a 43k trail run with over 2000 metres of vertical elevation. I never made it, injury finally getting the better of me at Christmas. We had already discussed doing the 100k at Surf Coast Century (SCC) as a team, 50k each. After my non-show at RCR, suddenly SCC became the focus for us both, a glorious way to both tick off a 50k ultra, and do it as a team.
We had entered under the team name HappyMondays; a reference to our shared love of the Madchester music scene, and also to the fact that we both (used to) have Mondays off work and would often catch up for coffees.

The Roller Coaster of Training and Injury, The Lead Up

We both had training plans set for the June/July/August period, Chrissy basically continuing on from where she left off after RCR, me trying to build back up sensibly after an injury plagued Xmas and New Year.
Through to June I was building nicely. I had run a hard 30k trail race at Macedon and after recovering from that was looking to increase the mileage and consistency. Chrissy was consistently running 3 times a week, going to the gym to do leg strength, and core strength exercises, as well as getting in long trail runs on most Sundays. And just as I was looking to run into some form and fitness, a torn calf at Studley parkrun derailed me. Tear wasn't bad, minor grade 1, but in the middle of an ultra training plan, it was a disaster.
Intensive physio, lots of support from my wife, trail running friends, and especially Chrissy had me feeling positive that I would get back soon enough. 5 weeks went by whilst my training partner went from strength to strength, and I gamely battled back through injury. Finally, I was able to join Chrissy and a large group from Lysterfield Trail Runners for the infamous 'Goat Loop' around the park. (So called as the resultant activity plot resembles a goat, a nod to the resident Lysterfield goat we have named Lenny!)
And.... disaster. Pulled up sore on top of the left foot. A week later I went for a scan to see if I had a stress fracture. Thankfully it came back negative, and over the next 2 weeks, it slowly went away. But not before I lost another couple of weeks of solid training. By now I was getting worried that I wouldn't even make the distance, let alone run a time that I would or could be satisfied with. 50k is no small undertaking, and as the days wore on I privately thought of the options in front of me.
Chrissy was really patient. No pressure, just make your decision when you are ready etc.
Eventually it all sorted itself out, I made Wonderland 36k (albeit on very limited training), ran that well enough to give me confidence that SCC was at least achievable, and then entered the last 2 weeks of taper.
So finally all was going well for #teamHappyMondays. Or so we thought.
Immediately after Wonderland weekend, Chrissy messaged me and said her back was a bit sore after a gym session. Whilst I was a bit worried, we thought it was just a "rest and ease up" proposition. Wrong, on so many counts, a few days later I get the message I had been dreading, "back is fucked". Simple and straight to the point! She'd bent over at home, and couldn't get back up again. In same strange way, it was almost a repeat of Chrissys lead in to RCR this year. (see One of a Kind for more.)
Myotherapy, Chiropractor, lots of stretching, anti-inflams etc. She pulled out all stops to get to the start line. A week off work before the event seemed to do the trick to get it much better, but all that time we had been discussing options for her (tables had turned fully 180 degrees). It was as much her not wanting to let me down, but race rules allowed a team member to DNF and other members to be able to complete their event. Whatever the outcome, we were both confident that somehow we could pull this off.

Race Weekend (more than just a day)

Friday

Weekend got off to a flyer on the Friday (sarcasm) when on the train in to Richmond, Chrissy messaged that she'd tweaked her back again that morning. I was now desperately concerned for her, to get this far and fall short of a goal was just the worst possible scenario. She'd been such a positive friend during my injury, it was almost cruel that this had happened to her. She was giving me a lift to Anglesea, and when she got out of the car at Richmond to greet me, she was slightly hunched over with a rueful smile on her face. We both knew the consequences of trying to run with a stuffed back, but we are both just a little bit obstinate. She would call it on Saturday morning, if she couldn't run, but we both knew that short of her not being able to get out of bed, she would run.

View from Check Point 2, Torquay.

Drove to Torquay, chatting all the way, most likely trying hard not to think about the race, our recent injuries etc. Had lunch in Torquay then went to do some food shopping for the weekend. It was here we had our first lol moment. Checkout operator, as they do, "So, what have we got planned for the weekend guys?". I looked straight at Chrissy, we both burst out laughing and Chrissy said, "Going to run a 50k race each.". Pause from checkout operator, then sudden dawning on her face as to what Chrissy had just said. "OMG, really? 50k? Each?" yes, yes, yes....
We were chuckling about that all the way to Anglesea. Picked up the keys to the house we were sharing, then checked in.
Grabbed the first room we liked, spread our gear out and then waited for everybody else to turn up (8 in all sharing a 10 bed house!). By now Chrissy's back had improved, and confidence was returning. We headed off to race registration at 5 in the arvo, caught up with heaps of people we knew doing either the 100k, 50k solo, or teams events. Photo with all the other LTR runners (we had decided that we were running as part of LTR on the weekend), race brief in the freezing night air, then back to the house to prepare meals, race kit, then nervously try to sleep the night before. A few glasses of wine for me, vodka for the party girl were consumed to help us with that.

Saturday - Race Day (Legs 1 & 2, Chrissy)

Alarm blared out at 4:15! Bloody hell it was loud.... Chrissy had set it for her so she could get up and eat some breakfast before the 5:30 am race start. The idea was that I would have another 40 minutes rest before I got up, as I wanted to see her set off. The reality was, neither of us had a good nights sleep, or much sleep at all. Both very tired, and with that comes the loss of energy, and low morale. But, Chrissy was intent on running, despite her back being stiff. She thought it would loosen up as she ran. We both hoped she was right!

Chrissy and Chris Spano. 5:30am start and smiling!

It was dark and cold at the race start. I managed to lose Chrissy and Chris Spano (a mutual friend who was going to run with Chrissy) on the walk to the beach start, but thankfully found them with about 3 minutes to go. Wished them both luck, watched them head off along the beach, a conga line of head torches disappearing up the coastal trail.
Included in our house was Cheryl and David, both doing the 50k solo, and a team of runners doing the mixed 4 person 100k relay. It was going to be a busy day following them all around.
Went back to the house, had my breakfast, and sorted out the rest of my gear, and the gear I needed to take up to Torquay, the 22k mark and the aid station along the first 50 where I was able to offer assistance.

Race start, was quite a sight.

Good friend Chris Langmead wasn't running today, so was offering to assist all the runners as we went round the course. He gave me a lift down to Torquay, and we waited patiently for everyone to come in. First was our team, rocketing away very high up in the placings, handover to Josie, and off she went! Next came David, closely followed by Cheryl, both looking in good shape having completed the somewhat technical sections on the beach. Lots of other runners came through, I knew heaps of people either running, or assisting, or spectating. A very social occasion it was at Torquay!

As the time approached that I expected both Chrissy and Chris came and went, I started to get a little anxious. Not hearing how things were going, I could only hope that she was still running. Just before the 3 hour mark, they both appeared. Change of shoes and socks, food and fluids, a brief smile to tell me all was okay (the back was behaving itself), and off they went again. I was happy. Posted a message on Facebook letting everyone know she was fine and through Check Point 2.
Briefly I returned to the house, grabbed my gear, and clothes bags for David and Chrissy, to put in the car. Andre, Chris and I went down to the finish line for the 50k, saw Josie come in and hand over to Daniel in the teams, and then watched as Cheryl, then David finished the 50. Figuring we had plenty of time, we returned to the house where I tried to calm myself by lying on the floor in the living room, closing the eyes and attempting to meditate.
I was aware that my throat was sore, and I had a suspiciously snotty feel to the back of my nose. Initially thought it was being out in the cold at race brief the night before, but as the morning wore on, I realised that I was coming down with a cold; it had ravaged my office the week before....

View from the house we had for the weekend, overlooking Anglesea. Race start/finish just right of centre on the coast.

Around 11:30 we headed down to the start/finish area and awaited Chrissy. She messaged us at the 45k mark. What I didn't know was that she was struggling with the re-occurrence of a knee injury. I waited a while and then spotted both Chris and Chrissy heading up off the beach. Chris peeled off to run through the finish shute as a 50k solo runner, and Chrissy continued on towards me in the transition area. As she got closer, I could see that beaming smile of hers light up her face. She covered up her mouth, a sure sign she was getting very emotional as she finished. Heaps of people called out to her, it was an almost rockstar finish! As she finished, we greeted each other with a hug, Chrissy almost sobbing with relief/delight, whatever it was, it was just brilliant seeing her complete her first 50k. A quick chat, I had to grab our shared first aid kit from her, then as I realised that others around were going to help her, I headed off on my own journey of discovery. Chrissy had been shepherding me away, telling me to get going. Later she confided that it was because she was so emotional, and me being there only made it worse! Sorry mate....

Saturday Race Day (Legs 3 & 4, Me)

Whos idea was this?
Photo credit: Jaye Chin-Dusting

I had no idea what to expect for my first 50. I don't think the brief meditation in the morning had anything to do with it, but I was very calm and relaxed as I set off. First hurdle was crawling under the bridge on the Great Ocean Road! Friend and RIOT member Jaye, was marshalling at this point. (Hence the photographs...) Blue matting had been kindly laid by the organisers, there was less than a metre of height from the water to the underside of the bridge. It really was a commando crawl. I was one of the lucky ones, I'd just started my run, there were 2 women in front of me halfway through their 100k run. If ever there was a high risk candidate for cramps, this was it!
The first 10k was along walking tracks in town, then gravel roads and fire trails as we headed south. The course was already going up and down, not huge elevation gains and losses, but enough to let you know that occasionally it was cool to walk (or strategically hike, as I like to put it!). As I was running strongly at the start of my 50, and meeting up with plenty of 100k runners, it was good to have a chat with many of them as I passed. Passed a fellow LTR, Bich Jennings, running her first 100, on the last of the road climbs. Always great to catch up with a fellow goatling on the trails.

Bitumen is boring, RIGHT?

Almost right on the 10k mark, the course veered right, onto some lovely flowing single trail. From here through to Distillery Creek (20k mark) was some great trails. Along here was the most significant climb of leg 3, 5 kilometres of gradual climbing (4%, or thereabouts). Leg 3 is considered the hilliest, and therefore the hardest leg of the whole Surf Coast Century course. Many people talk of it in awe. but the reality is that it is not too daunting on it's own. Saying that, as the 60 to 77k points of a 100, it is difficult enough! Knowing the elevation for this leg, I was intent on taking it easy, just cruise the pace, keep the HR down to below 145, 150 at worst. For most part I succeeded.
And this was as much due to the number of friends running the 100 that I met along this section, so I would stop and walk and talk with them. For one friend in particular, Shaun Moore, I stopped to take a good look at him, knowing that he'd hit his head on a rock in the first few k's of the run that morning. Lump on his head, a sore ribcage, but he looked in pretty good shape mentally.

And it was.....

At the 17k mark I crested the climb, then had a 3k downhill run to Distillery Creek. lovely section of trail, I just let the legs off the leash, only intent on making sure the feet landed in stable footholds on the way down. Brief stop to catch up with another friend who was walking along here, clearly unable to run due to fatigue. Richard was not looking good, and I told him if I saw any of the persons supporting him, that he needed help.
Got into the aid station here, grabbed some potato crisps, a small piece of chocolate and fruit cake, then headed off again. Feeling good, although I was starting to warm up as the sun had come out. Passed another LTR runner (Zara?), then put my head down to get the next 7k section done, and see my friends at Moggs Creek. I hadn't factored just how much climbing was on this section, and I walked a bit more than I expected. I was trying to work out my expected time into Moggs, but the brain just wouldn't play ball.... I was really looking forward to getting into the 77k mark, catch up with Chrissy, see how she was going after her run. It also meant that I would be over halfway, something to celebrate.
As I approached Moggs, I recognised the trail having run alongside Peter Mitchell in 2014 accompanying him to the aid station. People started lining the trail, giving encouragement and clapping and cheering. always get a boost when you from this. Approaching the aid station, I noticed David Grech standing in the middle of the trail pointing me to a picnic table where my supplies were. Chrissy was there too, showered and changed and looking pretty well relaxed. It was great to see them. Truth be told, I wasn't in as good a shape as I expected to be here, knowing that I still had 23k to go. They both inquired re my health, physical and mental. Mentally I was still up for it, physically I knew I was running low on energy. But 50k isn't meant to be easy, is it? Said my goodbyes to both, they assured me they'd be at Aireys Inlet (36k mark), and off I went. As I exited the aid station, Johnny Horricks from PTR came up beside me for a chin wag. He was amazed that this was my debut ultra, and debut 50, thinking that I had knocked off a few of these over the years! My reply was that I obviously talk up a good game!

After the climb from Moggs Creek, this was the view. Worth it.

The climb out of Moggs was a little unexpected. I thought the bigger climbs were behind me. But as I was to find out, the path to Aireys was still subject to elevation gains and losses. I walked various sections here, mainly as I couldn't keep my HR below 150 if I attempted to climb even the most gentle of rises. But I walked with intent, making sure I minimised any loss of time.
After a few tantalising glimpses of the lighthouse at Aireys, I dropped down off the climbs to run the last kilometre into the aid station. But not before having to go under a bridge on the Great Ocean road for a second time! This was not as tight as before, but was somehow even more precarious. Bouldering along the side on tired legs, fatigued body, and a less than mentally alert state of mind, it could have resulted in falling backwards into the drink! There was a line of us going through here, and we all had a nervous little laugh after getting through. Ran into Aireys feeling that a stop and a feed was on the cards.
This time I was greeted by David, Chrissy, Chris and his partner Elise. Once again it was a welcome sight to see friends. Chrissy asked me a straight and simple question, "How are you going?". My reply was a one word answer, rhymes with ducked, or something like that... And I truly was starting to feel it. My mind was trying to blindside itself and not think of the final 14k left to do. It was that old football adage, one step at a time, one kilometre at a time, just get it done. The stop at Aireys was about 5 minutes for me from memory, part of me not wanting to leave, part of me knowing I wasn't getting it done hanging around. Said my goodbyes again, hug from Chrissy and a few positive words of encouragement, and off I went again, one last section to complete.

This is probably right at the point where David Grech said to me, "That's the hard bit out of the way, it gets easier".
My facial expression and body language says it all....

Sun was getting low as I rounded the lighthouse, and I could spot the trail ahead for at least another 3 to 4 kilometres. Once I'd climbed up, I found it easier to get into a rhythm of running the flats, and downhills, and walking the climbs. For the most part I stuck to this, occasionally stopping for a photo, or to adjust my hydration vest as it was feeling loose. Along here the trail stuck mainly to the foreshore/clifftop walk, stunning views of the cliffs and ocean in the late afternoon. Despite my difficulties, I was in a happy place, such gorgeous scenery on a great day.
A couple of little climbs, a short beach section, then a section of about 30 steps (oh FFS, really?), then the trail diverted into a bush section closer to the highway. Along here my watch sounded off another kilometre, and I realised it was the longest I had ever run, racing or training. I silently celebrated this milestone.

Right on dusk I dropped down on the trail and entered the beach at Urquhart Beach. Earlier in the day the tide was up, thwarting Kellie Emmersons attempt at a sub 9 hour. Fortunately for me, and the other runners, the tide was well out, the beach flat and firm, and long as the eye could see. I already had my head torch on, and along here was the first time I really noticed that the light was illuminating the way ahead. After my less than stellar effort from Aireys, I was determined to try and run as much of this beach as I could. And I did, picking up the pace to average around 6 min/k. Suddenly it was dark, dusk had disappeared very quickly, and in front and behind was a sparse line of bobbing head torches. I passed a few runners until there was only 1 in front, a very bright Eye-Up, with another runner beside them. A brief stop at the 45k mark to message Chrissy, let her know I was close, then ran on.

As a Stone Roses fan, I was a little alarmed, to say the least.
Rumours aren't true though.

All of a sudden I realised that I might have missed the stairs off the beach in the dark. I had the course plotted on my watch, and on the beach it wasn't evident if I was on the course or not. I ran on, passed a group of people who cheered me on, but said nothing re if I was on course or not. After about 4k's on the beach I was convinced I had run too far. I'd been following the light in front, thinking they knew the way. Now I wasn't so sure. Ran a bit further then spotted a set of steps off the beach. No sign, no glow sticks, or marshal, but I decided it was time to find the trail again. It was pitch black by now, and getting cool. I didn't want to stop and get cold, lest my legs also seize up. Off the steps then straight into a carpark. No trail markers, so I ran towards the beach, then noticed that the course on my watch was in the opposite direction. After a few minutes of faffing around, I started heading north along a trail and immediately saw one of the pink reflective trail markers. I have never felt so relieved in all my life. Whilst not on the edge of panic, it wasn't too far away.
By now I thought I was only 2 to 3 k away. The path had little ups and downs, run/walk/run through here, all the time on my own. As I approached the Surf club at Anglesea, a very bright light came up behind me. Paul Tsiros, a fellow LTR 100k runner was coming home strong. He recognised me, and we both agreed to stay together for the run in. By now my legs are well and truly knackered, it was becoming a triumph of mental strength over physical frailties. We kept urging each other on, not wanting either to fall behind this close to the finish. Hit the beach with 400 metres to go and in the torch light could see the reflective strips on the traffic cones pointing the way off the beach to the finish shute.
I could feel the emotion beginning to well up inside me. I was going to do this, despite all the problems in training, the stress of knowing I was underdone. People were cheering us on; friends, strangers, marshals. Pauls family were there as we approached the finish line, he was whooping and hollering away, I could barely do anything other than suck huge breaths in! Saw Chrissy on the path, didn't even register until after I'd finished that I'd arranged for her to run with me down the finish straight. I was so in the zone with Paul. If there was one disappointment of the day, it was stuffing this up....
And then, it was all over. Paul and I shook hands and hugged, I then turned and saw all my friends standing there, cheering and taking photos. Chris Langmead, Andre Van Der Westhuizen, and Nigel Hanscomb to name a few. Suddenly beside me was Chrissy, the poor thing having to run behind me up the finish line. It was then that I realised my stuff up. She was fine, was just happy to see me finished. She gave me a big hug, and it was then that the emotion just burst forth, and I sobbed. Relief, joy, pain, who knows all of the above and more. It was raw emotion, but it was as much from my perspective as it was for Chrissy who had also endured plenty of hardships getting to the race, then finishing it.

Left picture, no caption necessary. Right caption, with the medals, all smiles after finishing.

Presented with our finishing medals, a photo of us both in front of the SCC 100k banner, then I sat down and downed at least 5 cups of electrolyte. I needed something to replace what I'd lost. After about 10 minutes I started to feel cold, so we decided to head back to the house. And back there was curry, cake, vodka, and friends to chat with, and a birthday cake for 4 of us who had birthdays over the week. The perfect end to such a great day.

Sunday, post race crash and burn

The Bling!

Hoping that my cold was minor, upon waking I realised it wasn't. And as they day wore on, I deteriorated very rapidly. Chrissy drove us back to Melbourne, dropping me off at Southern Cross to catch a bus home (trains not running on the weekend).
We had chatted all the way back, pinching ourselves that we were now both ultrarunners. Sometimes hard to believe, other times (like when getting in an out of the car), very easy to believe!

So finally after about 9 months of talking, entering, training and doing it, it was all over.
And already discussing about coming back next year and giving those times a shake.

Until next time....

Cry me a River

The normally dry(ish) trail was awash with mud, puddles, in places it resembled a creek. Water cascaded off surrounding rock faces, seeped into my clothing, was on every leaf, flower, piece of shrubbery in the forest. At times as we ran, it wasn't clear whether it was raining , or just drips falling off the canopy above. Yes, Wonderland 2016 version for the 20 and 36k races was what one might call, moist….

It wasn't all running....

This race, for me, was 12 months in the making. Primed and fit for a good race in the inaugural 2015 event, I managed to yet again DNF a race with a rolled ankle. At the time I was gutted, but hit the rehab hard and got myself back to start Melbourne Marathon 8 weeks later. But the intervening 12 months has been a bit of a horror show injury-wise. 3 weeks after Melbourne I ran Marysville marathon. Rough trail, decent elevation were one thing. But coupled with a still continuing recovery from MM, and carrying an adductor injury into the race were not the smartest moves I've ever made. Still, I soldiered on afterwards, training through, convincing myself that the niggles were just that, niggles, not the continuation of recent injury. It all came crashing down at Christmas. Trying to get fit and prepped for Two Bays 56, and after one of many terrible and painful runs where I ended up in tears, I was basically brought into sharp focus where I was at, what I wanted out of running, and the harsh reality that I was not in any shape at all.

So, in quick succession I bailed out of Two Bays 56k, Roller Coaster Run 43k, and a slew of minor events, including my local parkrun. It was not a happy time for me , but at least I got to witness a close friend run her first ultra at RCR. The rest did me good, I recovered, rehabbed, and built my mileage up slowly and deliberately, adhering to the 10% rule in order to avoid a repeat. Which brings me to Wonderland. At the time I entered, it was months off. Wonderland was part of the plan to get myself ready to run a 50k at Surf Coast century with my friend, Chrissy. Plan all set; build mileage slowly, recovery weeks every 4, incorporate trails, increase the pace, recover again. I had it all mapped out. A few things happen (they always do, don't they? No such thing as a perfectly executed plan). Moved house, new job, different working hours coupled with a long commute etc., completely changed my life around. Running no longer was the major part of my day/week/year etc. I had to change, had to face the reality of the change. So, I adapted. Changed the plan to do less mileage, more targeted sessions, with a reduced focus on massive long Sunday runs, but a more consistent approach.

And, just as things were falling into place, injury, yet again. Pulled calf muscle on a trail at Studley Park. Struggle through with reduced training, intensive physiotherapy (I have embraced dry needling in the same way I embrace a '97 Cab Sav….) Just as I recover from that, inexplicably pull up sore after a trail run in Lysterfield, massive swollen area on the top of the left foot. After a week were it just got worse, off to get a scan checking for a possible stress fracture! What next….
Had to chase the scan results up. When I eventually got in contact with my physio he said, “As soon as I got the negative (stressie) result, I thought it would be prudent to wait a few days. Because I knew you would start running again straight away, and I wanted you to have at least another weeks rest”.  Knew I would start running again? No shit Sherlock. Funny thing is, I did find out the result before my physio, and yes I did start running again! And this, 2 months out from Wonderland, 10 weeks out from SCC, safe to say my training plan was in tatters. I have at various points in the last 2 months thought of not running Wonderland, maybe changing to a shorter race leg of a SCC relay team. Call it pigheadedness, call it obstinence, call it sheer bloody-mindedness, I don't know. But I never gave up, and with the support of family and close friends I found myself in Halls Gap on Saturday before race day, underdone, but excited all the same.

Originally 5 days out, the forecast was for rain on Saturday, with clearing showers on Sunday. Never has a long range forecast been so different. Scattered showers, sun, wind, cold, showers then sun again on Saturday had us all convinced race day was going to be fine, the really crap weather having gone through on Friday. Therefore, it pissed down all Saturday night.... Every time I woke up, it was just chucking it down on the roof of the cabin we had in the caravan park. Alarm went off at 5:15, dragged my sorry arse out of bed, had some food, coffee, and last minute gear check before heading to the start line. We already had been told on Friday that ALL mandatory gear indicated in the race notes was to be carried the WHOLE way, and it was dutifully stuffed into my hydration vest.

Dark, wet, and cold. hadn't even started yet

It was dark at the start, spits of rain reminding us that the weather was not to be ignored. First wave went off, then the second wave that I was in moved up to the start line. Race Director, Rohan Day, explained the reason for the 3 minute gap between waves.

“Remember last year where everyone bottlenecked on the single trail in the first kilometre?”
“Not me, I was too fast!”, I cheekily yelled out. Pre-race nerves and over-enthusiasm getting the better of me…. Countdown from the RD's, and off we go. Sure enough, first k's we hit the single trail and immediately start climbing. I was with a friend, Corey, whom I've met through Melbourne Marathon. He said he'd stick with me, but I thought more likely he'd burn me off over that distance. As it was, my climbing ability was better than his on the day, and I was soon running with a bunch of 20k runners. (Only realised when they peeled off at the turn-off, and I found myself as Larry no-mates…)

A kilometre beyond here was where last year I had rolled my ankle. Time and a somewhat selective memory had fooled me into thinking that the section I did it on was a very gentle and smooth section of trail. Maybe it was the rough and technical sections on the rock over The Pinnacle, maybe I'm just getting dim in my advancing years. Whatever it is, as I approached the section (and I sure as shit knew it was the place), the trail was indeed smoother than The Pinnacle, but dropping down considerably more than I remembered, and also a lot rocker in places than I remembered. Ran past “My Spot”, gave a silent thanks that I was still upright, and running, and pushed on to the aid station at the crossing of Silverband Road. DTR runner and friend Warwick King was volunteering here. Nattily dressed in colourful wig, shirt and skirt, taking pics of friends and other DTR runners as we came through. Was good to see a familiar face, as the next few k's were the uncharted territory missing from last year.

On the Saturday, Nicky ran the 8k, I volunteered.

Runners at wonderland reading this may well wonder why I have skipped over the first 10k? Pffft, did it last year, it is the next 26k that really interested me!

The climb up to Mt. Rosea is not without some challenges. The climb alone is enough to get the HR up and running, but as you approach the summit (or several as it seemed), the trail became more technical, the rocks more slippery, and the turns harder to see in the gloaming. It had rained more or less constantly all the way to this point, when I realised that near the summit, it stopped. We had climbed above the rain. Whilst myself and a fellow runner rejoiced in this, the reality that we would descend back into it made us smile ruefully as we moved forward. Low cloud obscured all the views, the wind was mercifully light, but the cold was starting to get to the serious point. I was still running in a rain jacket and THIR, with gloves and dry thermal still in the pack.

Along here I was mainly on my own. A few people passed me, I passed a couple of runners, but it wasn't until I stopped to take a photo on a bridge over a ravine/gorge, that a bunch of SCTR runners came past. I tagged on the back, as much to just pace myself, but also thankful for the (mostly) silent company they were to me. Nearing the descent they all got away from me, but not long after the rocky technical section gave way to the flowing single trail, I caught up with 2 of that party. They ushered me past, but I was content here to just cruise down to Borough Huts. As we descended a group of runners came up behind me, and we also caught up with 2 other runners heading down. At one stage there was at least 7 or 8 of us in a single file, loving the ability to stretch the legs and get some speed back up, our average paces smashed to bits by the climb over Rosea.

I could hear one of the party behind me chatting away merrily with other runners. Turn around and realise it is a friend from PTR, Bec Howe. She says hi, then pulls up behind me to chat with me all the way down to the bottom. Nearing Borough Huts Bec and I ran ahead of the group as I started to get my legs rolling along nicely. (Bec reckoned I was trying to run away from her as she was talking too much! Not true, I'd been trying to do that 3 k's before, I just wasn't fast enough! #joke)

Views were to die for.

Pulled into Borough Huts where my wife Nicky was volunteering. She grabbed the tag off the bottom of my race bib (proof that a., I had run through there, and b., that I was safely out of the mountains). A quick chat, she asked me how I was going, stuffed if I can remember what I replied, then I grabbed some gels, fruit cake and walked down the road to collect myself, get the HR down (was a little high for my liking) then started running again once I turned onto the trail for the run towards Bellfield. (later Nicky would ask me where I got to, she was expecting me to stop and have a chat. Sorry…) Bec had disappeared into the distance, in search of other runners to chat to no doubt! I was on my own again.

Along here is where the mental side of trail running becomes important. Gravel road, long, straight vaguely uninspiring sections, interspersed with some decent pinches that stopped you dead in your tracks, made for a relentless slog. The rain started up again (had it actually stopped?), and the road was just slop in places. I had run through a creek on the descent to Borough Huts, and been alarmingly surprised at a sudden deep spot, potential ankle roll/sprain/break territory, so I was a little bit more cautious along here. Also, puddles on this road were muddy, you had no idea how deep it was, and what was submerged. A few other runners came and went along here. I eventually caught up with a runner from Naracoorte, Naomi, and we shared a fair section of the trail along the back of the dam, chatting along the way. It didn't dawn on me at the time, but that was a fair effort for a flatlander to get over that course. Have you ever been to Naracoorte? Billiard table flat is my best description!

The last section along Boronia Trail was very wet. Water across the road meant you adopted the “bugger it, shoes are already soaked” mentality and ploughed through dead centre. Legs really getting tired here, and I can feel the pace bleed off as energy levels drop off dramatically. This was as much a reaction to the lack of long hard training runs caused by injury. Approaching the final aid station along here, you could hear the cow bell ringing from a kilometre away! Ran past here, no need for nutrition, plenty of water still in the pack, I just wanted to head to the finish line. Last section of single trail behind the back of Halls Gap was just stunning, but was also my hardest section. Passed by many runners along here as I hadn't the energy to keep ahead of them, or up with them when they passed me. Finally with Delleys Bridge almost in sight, 2k's from the finish I took a tumble, first and last of the day! Muddy puddle on path, not wanting to step in it (see previous about deep, murky puddles), I aimed my foot at the side, the intention being to get stable footing in the mud there. Only problem was, it wasn't mud, it was granite, and my foot slipped straight out from underneath me and I fell face first onto the trail. Put my arm out instinctively to break the fall and smacked it on the granite wall that was beside the trail. Amazingly, no harm done; dirty legs, hands, and a graze on the right elbow. Picked myself up, and just kept on going.

Just one big climb really.

Suspicious looks from couples walking out along here. They must have thought we were all freaks. Got to Delleys Bridge, and 3 vollies I all knew. Jacqui O'Connell, Belinda Roffey, and Carolyn Donovan. Big hug for Carolyn, ask me how I was. Stuffed, yes, stuffed was the answer. The final run along the main road back to the Community hall seemed to go on forever until we turned the corner and could see the hall. It was here, with people lining the footpath cheering you on, kids holding there hands out for hi fives, I felt like a rock star, or elite athlete, finishing the event. Emotions nearly got the better of me along here.

Final k's at Delleys Bridge.
(Photo credit: Belinda Roffey)

Hard turn right through the hall, managed to stay upright on the plastic laid down on the floor (a few others didn't…), and got that all important bling, and yet another THIR. Immediately greeted by fellow DTR's Narelle, Shawn, and Stephen, and a quick interview from Matt Bell
MB: “You hated me last year?” (In reference to my dark mood, post race.)
LC: “No, I hated everybody!”
Chuckles all round. Ironic(?) cheer from Kellie Emmerson (“You made it!”), and drank my first can of coke in years. Man, that was great!

I was sore, very fatigued, and pretty much brain dead, but very happy. This race wasn't really a demon for me, or getting a “Monkey off my back” sort of race. The DNF was just shit luck, it happens all to frequently in trail races, but that is the risk/reward we get from running these events. My phone battery picked a crucial time to die, just as I finished! Couldn't contact Nicky to see where she was, or even if my son was still in the cabin (and I wasn't locked outside). Thankfully fellow Inverloch parkrunner Kirby Ireland and her family gave me a lift back to the caravan park. She had run her first ever trail race (nice initiation there Kirbs!), having been sick for the week before, but was thoroughly happy with her effort.

Postscript: Beer, curry and Karaoke on the Sunday night was a great way to catch up with everyone, and celebrate a great weekend. Following day revealed very minor DOMS, little or no issues with recent injuries, and the knowledge I had just completed a very decent hitout for Surf Coast century 50 in a fortnight.

Until next time….

Short Memory

The Lead Up

'That was one of the hardest races I've ever done!". So said my friend Nigel, minutes after crossing the line having completed the Trails+ Macedon 30. Although conditions were much better than 2015, the course was still wet, muddy, and slippery after rain in the mid-week. And the terrain never changes; some sections of tough rocky, slightly technical tracks, some serious vertical challenges (up AND down!), and the long, slow, grind back up to the finish line.

Adding another to the collection.

I can only comment on the 30. all I've ever done, all I've ever contemplated. It is more than enough. Anyone who takes on this course needs to understand the definition of success and failure. Twice before I've climbed into the saddle here, twice I feel like the mountains and the course have won, flat on my arse at the finish line looking for the horse that has left me for dead! But I will always come back. Masochist? maybe. Trail runner with a point to prove? most definitely. But it is such a great place to run. A well organised race, staffed by the usual crew of awesome vollies (who else would spend hours in biting cold, just to serve us snacks, drinks, and yell encouragement), and fast becoming one of the must do trail events on the calendar.
Originally this wasn't on my race radar. A litany of injuries over the last 5 to 6 months meant I was on yet another comeback (something I do extremely well at), and intent on nailing the rehab and return to running without breaking down, my original plan was to start back with the one of the trail running series that offered shorter distances (with little to no vertical extremes). Cue an approach from Jon Lim, and before I know it, I've signed up for #3.... Considering the feedback re conditions and the course from last year, I was definitely taking a high risk approach.

Pre-race selfies with friends: Tony, Cheryl, and Rhianna.

In the lead up, I didn't really start any sort of serious training until early March. And even then, no better than 30k a week average right through until the end of April. May saw a sudden increase to 50k/week with a couple of runs in the Dandenongs to strengthen the legs, and sharpen the blunt edges to my fitness. I never ever felt I was completely ready for this race, I mean, who ever does? But I was confident having run here twice before.

Race Day

As usual, a small group of DTR (Dandenongs Trail Runners), convened in a hastily organised house (thanks Chez) overlooking Hanging Rock. Cheryl (Chez), Chris, Peter, and myself spent an evening relaxing with a roaring fire in the background, it was a tad cold....
Next morning was cloudy, cold, but thankfully dry. The drive up to the top of the range was quick, and very soon we were parked, rugged up, and heading off to race registration. Race Director, Brett Saxon, came over to say hello, and comment that I was fast becoming a regular at this event. In its 6th year, not too many have done more than 3. This being my 3rd (in a row), I was in exalted company indeed. After finally getting my kit sorted, getting dressed, watch ready etc. It was time to head to the start line. Or so I thought. Cheryl had other ideas, needing me to help her set up the route navigation on her watch. A self-confessed technical klutz (her words, not mine), we spent several minutes getting it all set to go. This is crucial for Chez, her bush navigation skills often found lacking when 'in the zone', the hope being that this would prevent her from wandering off course.

First 10k, fast starts, and vollie chaos

Everybody starts too fast at Macedon. Downhill, slightly narrow technical track where you don't want to get caught behind other runners, and adrenaline coursing through the body make for some slick first couple of k's! Knowing what is coming up, and that my fitness was a little bit behind where I wanted it to be, I held back. First 4k's averaging 6min/k, even thought the trail was downhill. Lots of chat with other runners, kept bumping into people I know, always a very social occasion.

30k course in painful colours! (Image courtesy of www.veloviewer.com)

Camels Hump is the first and only chance we really get to look at the race leaders. And they were flying! Saw lots of friends, placing high up and running well, hi fives with a number on my descent from the hump. I'm still keeping the pace low, and more importantly my heart rate (145/150 bpm tops) through here. Climb up briefly to cross the Mt. Macedon Road, then some sections of single track, road, single track again as we cross the top towards Days Picnic Area and The Old Sanatorium.
Arrived at the aid station at the top of Zig Zag to stop for a couple of nibbles of food (2 pieces of chocolate, and a square of fruit cake). The poor vollies here were tasked with recording the race number of all of us who passed through. Scribbling furiously on a damp piece of paper, as we shouted out our race numbers and took off into the softwood plantation. Slightly thankless task for the girls here, but 2 hours later they greeted me with unbridled enthusiasm when I breasted Zig Zag. Can't thank them enough.

Middle 10k, descents, climbs, mud, and a runfie!

Sharee, showing the angle of ascent on
Baringo Track (Photo credit: Oliver Mestdagh)

Having entered the softwood plantation, and the overgrown 4WD track/fire trail, I knew what was coming up next. Baringo Track (aka, that crazy descent, followed by the crazy #$&^$ climb!). Chatted with a fellow competitor along the flatter(?) sections here about the upcoming sections. He runs regularly around the Mt. Macedon area and was trying the mess with my brain re the climb. No problems, brain already messed up....
Before I knew it, down we went; muddy, very wet and slippery, skid marks evident (always make me picture a Looney Tunes cartoon), and pace slowed to avoid catastrophe. A few runners came past me, either technically superior on the downhills, or totally out of control. Then we hit bottom, turned right, and straight back up again. It seems cruel, almost criminal to plan courses like this. Who knows what goes through the mind of a race director, then again best not ask. 12th kilometre has taken me 11 minutes, and I have gained the princely sum of 30 metres! Really? Get to the top of Baringo and the 12k aid station in time to see some of the faster runners complete the MTB loop section before heading past here at what is for them, the 14.5k mark. More choccy, more fruit cake, and I walked out of the aid station area, preparing for the next section, several loops through the pine plantation. It is the trail condition, and the elevation here that makes this tougher than the course profile and description indicates.

Oliver, and Sharee with me at the 12k aid station,
14.5 for me (Photo credit: Oliver Mestdagh)

Briefly met Oliver and Sharee from DTR as they hit the aid station the same time as me. Quick photo of the 3 of us, a few words of encouragement for all of us, and then we parted ways.
Met up with a runner from Lilydale area, (Jeff or Geoff, or if you have hipster parents, Xgeth...), and we ran and chatted as we plodded around on Baringo Road, and back to the aid station again. Beyond here we descend through a great section of single track. get a bit of speed down here. 2 years ago I hugged a tree down here, not out of any environmental awareness, just a method to arrest a potentially out of control descent that was looking like a train crash in progress. Jeff (or Geoff, or Xgeth) caught up with me again, and we stayed together along Hells Hole Track. What a lovely reassuring name this is, mid way through a trail race.
By now we have descended to the 2nd lowest point on the 30k course. We climb again as we turn on to the Mt Towrong Walking Track, and a small section of single track loveliness that exits on to some outstanding views of Macedon township, the surrounding flat countryside, and if you peer very closely, the Memorial Cross where started (and will finish) way way across the hill on the other side. It is much higher than where we are presently, and we still have to descend to Anzac Road.
Descent here is tricky. Very rocky and slippery in my luggy Salomons, and the legs are starting to get fatigued. Hit Anzac, then I push on past the aid station on my way to Zig Zag, and the way back to the finish.

Last 10k, The grind back to the finish line.

As stated before, this is the 3rd year here. Last 2 years the section up Zig Zag has broken me. to the point were I would walk sections that normally I would happily run. Chatting pre-race with Cheryl, I declared that I was going to get to the start of Anzac with enough in the legs to run the length of Zig Zag. She also was intent on running the full length. Alas, my legs were not co-operating as hoped, and the climb up Anzac was slow and relentless. But, as I neared the reservoir here, I spied 2 people alternately walking and running. I made a pact to at least catch them. Found out it was 2 friends, Danny and Gabor. Quick walk to have a brief chat with them, then off I went.

View looking over Macedon township. We are heading back to the top of that mountain, just off the photo right.

Approached the bottom of Zig Zag with another runner, took in a deep breath, gritted my teeth, then found an appropriate pace to tackle the climb. Other runner was running sections, walking others. At one point we stayed close together. Then eventually I got in front of her and kept on going. Passed several other runners as I ground on out a slow pace, but I kept on going. Pigheadedness: one of the items I list on my CV under 'Good'! After what seemed like an interminable time, I made it to the top, and the aid station at the 23k mark. Same aid station that was chaos 1:40 before. Very quiet here now, more nibbles, then I mentally prepared for the return to the finish line.

Daniele Foto, descending from Mt. Towrong, 19k mark.

In previous years, the last 7 to 8k's here has taken me nearly an hour. The way I was feeling, it was going to be 'programming as usual' today! Finally got going again, the legs carrying a weary body back to the top. For most part along here I ran by myself, having left some runners behind, but not seeing any in front of me. At the 25k mark, good friend Nigel Handscamp came up beside me. We ran together for a few k's, both planning on finishing with one another, but as we got to about 2k's to go, I couldn't keep up the pace up and fell back. passed another friend along here, didn't recognise him, as I was internalising the pain here. My lack of long hard runs over the last 4 months was finally taking toll. Christian came back and passed me after I 'woke him up'. His words, not mine!
At 3:36:33, I finally crossed the finish line. Spent, incredibly so, but happy to have survived the run intact. Hug from Race Director, Brett Saxon, as he gave me my finishers medal, another hug from friend Narelle (she competed in the 10k), then stagger off in search of other friends, warmth, dry clothes and caffeine. (and found the lot...)

Post Race

Bling! Per k, probably the hardest earned
medal I have ever received.

Thanks To Chris Langmead, I was back in Melbourne by 2:30, and on a train home within 10 minutes. Exhausted, yet happy, I managed to sleep for most of the journey.

Pretty content with how I raced, setting a pace early that enabled me to get the distance done, and most importantly, no injuries. This was the first test at the start of my programme to get me to Surf Coast Century in September. Safe to say, all systems go.

Postscript: Got a few PR's on Strava segments after I uploaded the plot. Seemed I was racing in parts on the day.

Next up, Race 1, Hoka One Trail series (formerly Salomon series) at Studley Park on June 5th. Yep, only a week after Macedon, easy week of training, hit the race in good form.

Until next time...

One of a Kind

So this blog reawakens. Like Smaug, the gold hoarding dragon from The Hobbit, one eye opens as changes are detected in it's environs. And the change here? A chance conversation with a friend of a friend about what we get from running, and giving it back. Which prompted me to think back over the last 4 to 5 months.
Saturday 27th February was Roller Coaster Run at Mt. Dandenong. I have run this twice before, the single loop race which is 21.5k's of no flat running, and about 1100 metres of vertical elevation. Run on trails, it is probably the toughest course in and around Melbourne. I was meant to be running the 2 loop 43k race, with a friend who I set a plan for 4 months previous (more on that later), but instead find myself dressed in clown garb, standing at the finish line handing out finishers medals. Not the gig I was expecting, but pretty good all the same.
The conversation was actually away from the start line as I was filling up water bottles for the finishers area. Steve Brennan, well known and respected runner/coach in the Melbourne area came up to say hello. We have a mutual friend, and he came over to inquire how I was going. Seems my injury woes were the subject of speculation across the wider trail running community. Steve commented on how wonderful it was that so many people were happy to volunteer, and wasn't it great to put something back to the running community. See, he coaches a number of athletes, takes no money. As he says, "I have a paid job, don't need anything more". He just gets the enjoyment from seeing the improvement of other runners.
Talking to Steve reminded me that I was also here on this day to see a friend of mine finish her first ultra. Chrissy Good has been a friend for the last couple of years, having met when I offered to pace her at Run Melbourne back in July 2014. A successful day (sub 1:45 for the first time for Chrissy, and another friend Chris), it made me feel like I was finally ready to put something back into running. I have got a lot, and will still get plenty of enjoyment from a sport that has captured my heart and soul, but it feels great to help others out.

Chrissy and Belle after finishing. Thrilled for Chrissy,
and loved that Belle stuck with her the whole way.

Around Melbourne marathon last year, Chrissy and I discussed a number of things running; doing an ultra together was one of them. We had both signed up for Roller Coaster run 43k, and it seemed an ideal opportunity to train together, and then maybe run together. I say maybe, we run at different paces; one of us would feel the pressure to pick the pace up, the other feeling the frustration of slowing down. Regardless, it never happened, as injury finally caught up with me. But Chrissy stuck to the plan, with a couple of detours along the way and was getting into the best shape of her life. A rolled ankle 3 weeks out dented the confidence, and as her mentor, my work was to focus her on rehab, make sure she understood that a rest here wasn't a disaster, and generally just be a positive companion. All was going well, then.....
Her parents arrived the week before from interstate for a holiday, where they would also come up to Skyhigh to see her finish the race Unfortunately for her and her family, her Dad had a significant heart attack in the terminal at Melbourne airport. The following week was a blur of emotion for anyone close to her family. As close as Thursday night she still hadn't committed to running the race, and whatever her decision, I supported her all the way. We hadn't come this far to make a rash decision, family came first, and unless they were happy for her to run, and Chrissy felt okay, she wouldn't toe the start line.

Great to be there at the finish.
Couldn't help but get emotional.

History shows she did, and ran all the way with a good friend Belle Campbell. Finishing 20 minutes within cut-off and getting that all important medal to show her Dad, who was recovering in hospital. It was an emotional moment for all of us, plenty of her trail running friends staying back after their race to watch her finish. And although I couldn't run, I was so thrilled to be there at the finish to present her medal and see her achieve a goal.

It's the giving as much as the running that attracts me to this community. So many other people volunteered that day to help make the race a success.

And Finally....
When I mapped out my training plan, it was a series of long slow weeks of build up. Get the legs and body back into shape before taking on any of the difficult races. My first race initially was planned to be at Plenty Gorge in the Rapid Ascents series. But cue an approach from Jon Lim, working on behalf of the Trails+ team for Macedon, and an offer to blog about my previous races there, and what I am doing for the up and coming 30k event I have entered. Last year was a freezing mudfest, interested to see what awaits us on 29th May.

Until next time....

Paint a Vulgar Picture

Never poke an angry snake in the eye, and never start a marathon with an injury. 2 pieces of advice that every child growing up should have drummed into them at the earliest possible moment. I'm too scared to mess with snakes, but was perilously close to starting on Sunday with an injury. My ability to derail marathon attempts is well documented in this blog (2 years in a row, rolled ankles, on almost the same weekend of the year...). 7 weeks out, and I pushed rehab and the return to running with evangelical zeal, the result; a previous adductor injury flared about 3 weeks out. My final week of training consisted of a 5k run completed but as a series of minute on, minute off intervals. I didn't really declare myself right to go until Thursday evening, and even then, there was a degree of uncertainty. Race day dawned, I felt good to go, with the idea of running at a decent pace, to see how far I could get.

Catch-22: According to the novel, people who are crazy are not obliged to fly missions; but anyone who applied to stop flying was showing a rational concern for their own safety, and was sane. Ergo, they could fly missions....
Marathon Catch-22: People who are crazy are not obliged to run marathons; but anyone who decides to not run is showing a rational concern for their safety, and is sane. Ergo, they should run....

The marathon. Why? 42.195 kilometres, on-road, anywhere from dead flat to quite hilly. It has lured runners for many decades, for some, the ultimate running goal. For me, for many years, it was never a goal. Early 2013, running with some friends on our regular long Sunday runs, a whispering campaign started up to get a mate to run Melbourne that year. Little did they realise it would miss it's mark, and lob firmly in my brain! I ran 2013, this blog came about because of the result from that race. Whilst it wasn't a disaster, it fell short of the expectations I had set myself. The blog was to document my return, for redemption/revenge, call it what you like. Did I achieve redemption? Not quite, but then again, maybe. Read on....
(Section headings are paraphrased quotes from the film, Apocalypse Now)

Everyone gets everything he wants. I wanted a marathon, and for my sins, they gave me one.

Race day, 18th October, 2015. 7 weeks previous, my chances of getting to the start line looked very remote. But here I was, walking in the dark from my digs in East Melbourne to the MCG, the G lit up, cars parking in the surrounding grounds, other runners strolling towards the epicentre. As I walked, I was conscious of the tape applied to my inside thigh, and hamstring, the result of a physio visit the Thursday before. It identified issues with my hamstring, that were overloading muscles around the thigh, the adductor longus being the the problem child.

Got to the bag drop, last drink, catch up with a few LTR members, and take on a gel as I head off to the start line. I had arranged to meet some friends at the Rod Laver statue outside the arena that bears his name. As I has decided to leave my phone in my bag, I was a bit clueless as to where the others were. What the hell did we do before mobile devices? Finally caught up with Chrissy, Nigel and his daughter, and Belle. Photos, hugs, farewells and good lucks exchanged, then I went off in search of the 3:30 pace group.

Andre, Fiso, Cheryl and myself at the start line, all smiles!

Excitement already building, standing around at the rough point where the sign indicated they should be, I heard a shout behind me. Andre and Cheryl, 2 good trail running friends, were on the other side of the barrier, also looking for the 3:30 pacers. There was some irony in Cheryl spotting me. In 2013, we had never met in person, but had chatted through Facebook (specifically, the Melbourne Marathon group). That year, she was late to the start line, immediately spotted me, but was unable to say hello as the gun went, and we were off. This time, we were able to say hello, hug, and banter about the race ahead. Soon we were joined by another friend Fiso, who, like me, had an interrupted prep for this race. We had agreed a few days earlier to start together with this pace group, and see how we went. On such subtle decisions, do race strategies fail....

National anthem, countdown, then we are off. First k of the marathon goes up Batman Avenue, a gentle climb, but a nice heart starter for a marathon. It is congested, and it is easy to lose contact with the pace group. Fiso and I negotiate the chaos, and sneak ahead of Kellie and Ruth (2 women pacing this group, along with Brett), as we turn at Fed. Square onto St. Kilda Road. Rather than trying to stay close to them, like everyone else was, we ran our own pace, along the undulating road, chatting at intervals, saying hi to fellow runners we knew etc. Always love going down here, relaxed, bundles of energy, the anxiety at the start line replaced with the relief of just getting on the road. I watched Andre and Cheryl slowly wind it up, and head off in search of a 3:15 time.

Just before we left St. Kilda Road, and headed into Albert Park, I had the first of 2 encounters that left me thinking that I either have a distinctive running style, or am easily identified from behind! As I am crossing Queens Road, a voice on my left shoulder says, "Les Corson?". I nod vacantly in his direction, my mind a complete blank, nothing, no memory of this person. Turns out Michael and I follow each other on Strava, but how he recognised me from behind? Mystery. The 2nd was a female. About a k into Albert Park, same thing, off the left shoulder, "Les, is that you?". Turn and see an old friend from Launceston, Debbie Pauna. For years, Debbie would banter with everyone who ventured north to the marathon, "Why would you want to do that, are you people crazy?". This thought floats through my mind, as she runs past me. Found out later, she'd run one 10 years ago....

Albert Park saw the crowds thin out a bit. Along here I started to pay more attention to my HR. Initially along the first 5k, it was safely in the 145 zone, very happy with that. But here, it was climbing towards 150+. Far too early in the marathon, for me. I felt good, relaxed, but also noted that conversation with Fiso was reduced to shorter, and shorter sentences. Soon it would be phrases, then monosyllabic grunts. 10k aid station was the first one I didn't grab a drink from, far too congested, and chaotic. No problem, my bottle drop station was at the 13k station. Whilst a lot of runners dislike the section here (it loops around several times), I love it. You get to see other runners, shout out to your friends etc., gives you a boost. Spotted Andre and Cheryl, they looked great, and they gave me a huge yell in return. In fact, it was one giant meet n greet of friends for the the entire 8k's in the park!
As we turned onto Fitzroy Street, and the one section of good downhill for the last 24k's, I was starting to come to the realisation that the pace was not sustainable for me. Turned onto Beaconsfield Parade, spotted the Spirit of Tasmania way in the distance, and realising that was close to my turnaround point before heading south again, that I was going to have to slow down, and still dig deep for the remainder of the race.

The only notable thing that happened along here, was that the 3:30 pace group that Fiso and I had gradually moved ahead of, now ploughed me down, with ruthless efficiency. Quick word with Kellie Emmerson as she ran passed, to let her know I was okay, just throttling back my pace (and thus, my expectations). Passed under the 20k banner in reasonable shape, then the official halfway, 21.1k, in a tad over 1:45. At this stage though, finish time was not important, just finishing was....

One final moment of triumph though. In 2013, at the 22k mark, I had cramped, and hit the wall, all in one go, marking the start of what was a horror 20k slog back home. This year, albeit going slower, and not exactly pretty, I sailed through 22, no cramps, no wall, just the onset of fatigued, and stiff legs.

Tailwind, son. Nothing else in the world smells like that.

So, where was that aid station with the bottle drops? Having collected one at 13k mark, drunk most and ditched the remainder, I had survived on water (small sips), on the subsequent aid stations, but was struggling enough now to realise I needed my next bottle of Tailwind. Watching the runners come back up from Elwood, along Marine Parade, I was recognising a number of faces. The shout-outs had been replaced by nods, and grunts, but the sincerity was all the same. 

Beaconsfield Parade, starting to get a bit serious along here.

Travelling by myself, unable to keep pace with anyone as they slowly streamed past, my head dropped, as I stared at the few metres of road ahead, not daring to look how far into the distance I had to go to Elwood. Fiso had left me, swept up in the 3:30 pace group, and I was happy for him to do that. He'd been very encouraging along the first 15 or so k's, but I didn't want to hold him back, and I didn't want to push myself so hard I couldn't complete the race. A few minutes later, Chris Burton from DTR came up beside me, and enquired as to how I was going. Not great was the reply, but thanked Chris, and told him to have a good run.

Another shout-out, this time Andre and Cheryl again, so good to see familiar faces as they passed in the opposite direction. Andre asked if I was okay. Most likely because this was the first time they had seen my behind the 3:30 pace group, and significantly behind as well. Cheryl peeled away from Andre, ran across the traffic island, frown plastered all over her face, to eyeball me from close range. "I am fine,", I said, "just fatigued, I'll be right". I marvelled at her selflessness as a friend, and later on found, just how far that selflessness extends. A quick hi 5, and she was on her way, both still within the 3:15 pace time. Another runner, Glenn Sullivan, fellow RD from Inverloch, ran past, called out. Later on he told me, he had yelled out to Tony O'Connell (Inverloch parkrun Event Director), "5 parkruns down, only 3 to go", as a bit of banter. He was going to do the same to me, took one look, and decided best not! I looked that good, did I Glenn?

Along Marine Parade, I had made the decision to run aid station to aid station. Break the race down into small chunks, stop at the station, grab water, or my bottle drop, and move on. But either the organisers stuffed up, or more likely in a haze of marathon stupidity, I missed my bottle drop of sports drink. It wasn't until I turned back at Elwood, did I realise I may have run past an aid station. Heading back up Marine parade, I realised just how many runners were still behind me, thousands it appeared.
I gamely ran on, stopping at aid stations, or trotting through with cup in hand. As I approached St. Kilda, Luna Park on the horizon, fellow DTR, Warwick King, started running beside me. He could see I was doing it tough. Subtle encouragement, offers to grab water for me etc. He ran until I was close to Fitzroy Street, then said see ya later as I continued on my way. Remember Fitzroy Street, that nice downhill at the 14k mark? At the 30k mark, it is a complete prick, hated it...

St. Kilda Road... shit; I'm still only on St. Kilda Road... Every time I think I'm gonna wake up back in the G.

in 2013, this was my Hearts of Darkness moment, crawling up St. Kilda Road, wondering why the climb up wasn't recognised as any sort of descent on the way out a few hours earlier! Quick check of the GPS activity after the race, revealed the elevation changes along here. No wonder.

Runners were streaming past, as if I was stranded in quicksand beside a busy motorway. My legs ached, not just tender to touch, but seriously aching. At one stage I stopped to massage my quads, only to find that any physical manipulation created more pain, ran on (well shuffled), trying to recall how far it was to the Arts Centre. On St. Kilda Road, the marathoners were on the main road, the half-marathoners separated on the service road. Despite having run nearly 15k's more than them, we were going faster, as this was near the back of the pack for the half runners.

So far, my only stops were really at aid stations, but along here I had to stop several times. Rather than sheer exhaustion, it was the fact my legs were losing power, and the relentless slog up the road was taking it's toll. I just couldn't get going properly. After what seemed an indeterminate time, I finally spotted the tower that marked the Arts Centre on St. Kilda Road, and the point we turned off to go back through the Domain. There is something perverse about a course that will take you close to the finish, then direct you away (or back the way you came), to add kilometres to the run! In addition to this, was the inclusion of a nice little rise up Birdwood Avenue to the 37k aid station. On Alexandria Ave. I passed by someone who knew me (hi 5'ed me), but to my eyes was a total stranger. Call it mid-race marathon brain fade, later on when he ran past me supporting another runner, did I realise it was ultra runner Andy Turner! I really was shrinking my brain down to the very primal core, dealing with finishing....

Turned off Alexandria, and onto Birdwood, and the climb up. And again, along here, my friend Warwick popped up. Running beside me, once again giving me encouragement as I started the climb to the aid station. Desperately wanted to grab my bottle of sports drink, if nothing else, than to think that I was trying something, anything to keep me moving, and get me home. I took heart that the 4:00 pacer group hadn't passed me yet, a small but vital victory, so far.

Do I detect the hint of a wry smile as I finish?

Finally got my bottle from the 37k aid station, and really couldn't stomach much of it. Somehow it seemed far more concentrated than the first one. Drank as much as I could, as I ran up the last of the climb in the Domain, then thankfully, the run down Domain Road. I say, thankfully, but the pain in my quads made my legs useless going downhill. Brief stop to grab some Gummy Bears from Catherine Hocking of LTR, (and a lovely smiley face), and then finally St. Kilda Road, and the final push for home.
Just before I reached Princes Bridge, I became aware of someone running and talking. This can only mean another pace group, the 4:00 pacers, bugger.... Sure enough, the human tide of runners passed me by on the narrowest section of road before the bridge. All I could do was hold my pace, such as it was, and not get buffeted, and pushed around. Fed Square was next, and a group of photographers was stationed here. Every year they are there, taking pics of runners with iconic Flinders Street Station in the background. Lots of spectators along here, gave all of us a boost as we turned the corner into Flinders Street. Mug for the camera, then push on up the road, only 2k's to go!
 
The final turn off Flinders into Wellington Parade South, the street either side now lined continuously with runners from other events, clapping and cheering us on, I had one final stop. Turning the corner into Jolimont Road, I cut the corner with other runners, and stumbled on the kerbing. Nearly fell over, stopped, collected my thoughts, and then set off, one final push to the finish line.

Myself and Andre dwarfing Cheryl!
Despite my tough race, this was a great moment.

And finally, after what seemed an eternity, I crossed under the entrance to the MCG, and entered onto the hallowed ground. Plastic mats on the grass had been placed for the runners, strict instructions to run on them, not the grass! I spied the finish line chutes, and gritted the teeth to get home. As I approached the finish, above the general noise of the crowds, I heard familiar voices. My friends Chrissy and Belle were screaming their heads off, cheering me on. It was so wonderful to hear above the noise of everyone else. 

Finished, and strolled away from the finish line, utterly exhausted. Met Kellie again, had a brief chat and then went off in search of food and water. Bumped into Andre, and heard a story that reaffirmed my faith in the human race. Both he and Cheryl had been zeroing in on a 3:15 finish, when a fellow runner collapsed and hit his head on the road. Cheryl, a medical doctor, stopped immediately to administer first aid. 20 minutes later, they rejoined the race, finishing around the 3:35 mark. This selfless act was the best story on a day full of great stories.

Fiso was there, having come in 12 minutes ahead of me. Could have sworn he'd gone on with it, hanging in with the 3:30 pace group for a sizeable chunk of the race. But no, his race was a mirror image of mine, pace then dramatic slow-down! We were both very happy to have finished...

Collect medal, photo with Andre and Cheryl, food and drink, then head back topside with other friend Josie, to catch up with many other runners. I was walking like Frankenstein, and the thought of a kilometre trek back to my unit was amusing. Thankfully Chrissy offered to give me a lift back, where I was able to collapse in a cold bath, beer in hand, finally off my poor weary feet!

Sir, I am unaware of any such Strava activity or operation ... nor would I be disposed to discuss such an activity if it did in fact exist, sir.

After the dust had settled, and I was able to look at my plot on Strava, it was very clear how my day had panned out! First 15k, nice even pace, bang on 4:55/5:00 pace for the entire way. Then a gradual decline after I had decided to voluntarily slow down, then, as the body slowly shut down, an increased rate of decline that ended up in the visual representation of de-fibrillation! At this point I had struggled to hold any pace whatsoever. A 2:20 second 21.1k resulting in a 35 minute positive split! Not what I had bargained for.

The decline of my pace, the race ran....

But no wall to speak of, nothing that points to a catastrophic failure, just an interrupted training plan, and a half-arsed race plan!

Are my race plans unsound? I don't see any plan at all, sir

Some would say I should have run conservatively. But having the interrupted prep, meant I didn't really know where I was at. I could have run a conservative race, come in around 3:45, and then spent the next period of time wondering “if only”. So, race it I did. And I came unstuck, not worried, it was my plan, and my result, I will live with it. But, as I found out later, I wasn't the only one to have a day that didn't go to plan. 
1. Dion Finocchiaro was racing for 2:22, but collapsing within sight of the MCG, being stretchered away to first aid, on a drip for an extended period, then gets up from his bed to complete the race and finish in 4:01.
2. My friend Cheryl stops for medical emergency and sacrifices 20 minutes. She is adamant that she would do that again, and we all believe her. I know others who would rue(?) that decision. 
3. Another friend Serena, aiming for sub 3:00, gets a 3:10. Chatting to her after the race she said she’d had the best preparation ever, felt good leading in to the event, and despite really good weather conditions she just had “one of those days”.

There were countless others having days to forget, along with those who had a day out. It is the beauty of the marathon, there is no easy path to success.

End Credits

So, have I found redemption? I think so. I no longer feel the need to go back to the marathon, nothing really to prove to myself. No, I didn't hit any targets, and no, I didn't run a strong second half of the race. But I made the start, when all seemed lost, and I finished, a victory in itself. Mentally this was the toughest race I've ever done, nice to know I can tough it out.
That is not to say I may do one again at a later date; only if I want to, not because I feel I need to. And the next year and a bit look to have some changes work wise, where I live etc. Running will be interrupted, racing will be throttled back as a result. Stay tuned...
This blog will live on, other races, other targets to hit. Maybe not as constant as it has been in the past.

Apocalypse Now Quotes

The real quotes from the movie, in case you were wondering.

1. Everyone gets everything he wants. I wanted a mission, and for my sins, they gave me one.
2. Saigon... shit; I'm still only in Saigon... Every time I think I'm gonna wake up back in the jungle.
3. Napalm, son. Nothing else in the world smells like that.
4. Sir, I am unaware of any such activity or operation... nor would I be disposed to discuss such an operation if it did in fact exist, sir.
5. Kurtz: Are my methods unsound? Willard: I don't see any method at all, sir.