Three

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

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

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

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

Mr Gippsland parkrun himself,
Tony O'Connell

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

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

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

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

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

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

Race #2: Hell not quite freezing over

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

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

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

Spooky path to Mt. Tassie

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

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

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

Finished at Duncans.
Photo credit: Nicole Walsh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until next time.

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...