Go West

(Go west) in the open air 
(Go west) where the skies are blue 
(Go west) this is what we're gonna do 
(Go west, this is what we're gonna do, go west)
Go West - Pet Shop Boys

Sometime in 2017, Margaret River Ultra popped its head up like an adolescent meerkat. At first, I discarded it with the classic east coast thoughts of too far away, too costly etc. All the time paying airfares, accommodation and so forth for Tarawera (NZ).

Then, I won a free entry (to it and to Surf Coast Century). Excited, yes, but it was with a restrained air of someone who was understanding of budgets, time off work etc. etc., whilst still in the process of paying for my time in Tarawera (See where this is going?)

Several well-meaning and lovely friends (henceforth known as 'enablers') also expressed a desire to 'Go West'. Group chats, messages, "If we get a group it will be cheaper", all were designed to 'enable' me to take the plunge. I had a free ticket, I thought "Why not just enter. It's free. If you don't make the journey to WA, no problems, nothing lost at all". Informed my wife that I'd entered, giving her the previous reasons of free/nothing lost/it's just an entry.... She favoured me with one of those spousal looks that conveys everything, and nothing.

And then finally the hammer blow of the Qantas Boxing Day sale, and the realisation of just how cheap you can head to the sunny blue and gold expanse of our western state. Margaret River Ultra, here I come!

Wednesday 2nd May

The real start of the story is here. Tegz Angel, Vfuel Aus supremo had asked on our group chat if he could get some banners sent to a business (rather than residential premises) as they were late leaving printers in Sydney. Cheryl had apparently volunteered me. Don't remember that, must have been very subtle. They duly arrived at 1:00pm, in a large box for me to carry back home on the train. Next trick was to pack them all in. They'd been nicely rolled but were too long to put in any of my suitcases. Another suitcase grabbed from the stash, and I carefully folded them, taking care not to have tight creases etc., and packed other loose light items around to avoid them moving around. It was going to be an extra $35 dollars for the extra bag, I didn't mind and would deal with costs with Tegz in WA.
Finally around 10pm I was satisfied I'd packed everything in my bags. Too late if I'd forgotten anything.

Thursday 3rd May

Early start, walk the dog, breakfast then catch my normal train to Melbourne but getting off at Pakenham. Dan and Fiona drive me to the airport, an earlyish start to make sure The Monash Freeway doesn't stall us. On the way in try to check extra luggage in, too late. Need to do it at the airport, where no doubt it will cost extra and take longer to do. We decide to grab all the banners and stuff them in Dans oversized sausage bag. All the extra stuff then gets rammed into my bulging suitcase!

On the plane on the way over to Perth.

Check-in (suitcase still under 23kgs, just...), and catch up with Cheryl and Chris. The flight took just on 4 hours but was uneventful. Arrived just after 2 WA time, coffee, grab hire cars and then head south. Curry in Bunbury, then I drive to MR. Found the accommodation no problems, we all move in and choose rooms. Chris and I wait up for Tegz and Kellie, still flying in from Madrid after Kellie did Madiera Island Ultra Trail the previous weekend.

Friday 4th May

The house crew: Tegz, Fiona, Dan, me, Chris, Cheryl and Kellie.
Photo credit: Cheryl Martin.

Woke up early, still on Vic time. A bit of breaky, head into MR for shopping and coffee and just generally lounge around. Short run on the trail at White Elephant Cafe provided a taste of the trail here, and a means to burn up some nervous energy. Kellie reported that there was a beach further on with soft sand. 24 hours later I'm walking this beach with a wry smile!

In the afternoon we go down for race registration, gear bag drop and dinner of pizza and a pint of local beer at the Cheeky Monkey Brewery. Meet up with lots of friends, VUR's etc. A fair bit of banter, nervous laughter, but we are all in good spirits.
Back home, prep for the morning and off to bed for the standard piss-poor pre-race sleep.

Saturday 5th May, race day

The alarm was meant to go off at 4:50. But at 4:45 the race tracker beeps on mine and Chris's phones to remind us of the race. Like we actually needed that? I stagger out of bed, stumble around and get changed. Breakfast is homemade Museli, Berocca, toast and a strong hot coffee. Everyone else is up, even those running relay legs later in the day. We pile into 2 of the hire cars and head for Hamelin Bay (along with a load of other runners by the looks of the car convey on the road). I'm slightly nervous, a bit wired you might say. Not able to concentrate on anything other than thinking about the run ahead of me. I'm not fazed by the distance, I've done the training, done the prep, but you never know what can go wrong on the day.

Cheryl and I minutes before the start. Cheryl is an 'enabler' for some of my running exploits!
Photo credit: Cheryl Martin.

It is dark, but there is a faint glow on the horizon as we approach the start line. Car parking was chaotic. We just got dumped by the road as Fiona had to drive back out and find a park somewhere else. Gear on, head towards the beach and see the start line for the first time. The light is definitely better, but the wind is blowing firmly on shore. I'm freezing, having elected to leave a warm jumper at home. Lots of other runners are in long leggings, arm warmers or long-sleeved shirts etc. I thought it would get hot later on, had gambled on that in fact.

Milling around before the start.

Started the tracker o my phone, then moved into position with 5 minutes to go. And by now the nerves are really starting to kick in. Just want to get going and get it done. Cheryl, grabs Chris, Dan and I into a group hug to thank us for our friendship, and wish us well on the trail. Emotions go through the roof, I try hard not to shed a tear. (Would have explained it as high pollen count, WA being famed for its wildflowers…)

Hamelin Bay (Start) to Boranup Campground (CP1)

3, 2, 1 and go. We head along the sand, up the short jetty and through the carpark towards our first section of trail. Finally off running, we are able to relax and ease into our pace. Chris Langmead is with me, we have agreed to run together for his first leg. There are many runners around us, chatting, a bit of banter, even a bawdy joke as we approached the 1k mark! (The punch line was worth the wait). Some of the banter is with fellow VUR's Chris Wright and Shaun Moore, discussing what we've ordered for food at checkpoint 1. Very soon we start climbing up a rough section of trail. My first walk, need to conserve the energy early on.

Leg 1 is a mixture of road (bitumen), trail, rough track with some constant climbing. Eventually, after running through a section with lots of low growing shrubs, we came out to a vista of sweeping land with the sun still low in the sky. Conditions couldn't have been better. On the climb up I have left Chris L behind, but that was ok. Before that, I would periodically check back on him. He was doing brilliantly, on the comeback after 2 years and it was for me the perfect start to the day.

Course deviated around the top of a sand mine. Our
first taste of sand for the day. Not the last.

At the 9k mark, we came across the first sand of the day. This was a late change to our course as it ran through a private property, a sand mine no less. Stop for a photo, climb up the sandy road, then bomb down the other side. A quick check of my watch, right on schedule to do 1:20 for the first leg. Back into the bush again on some downhill single trail then we can hear the PA at CP1.

Run in right on 1:19. Fill up drink bottle with VFuel, grab half a banana and some oat slice and stand around bantering with Chris Wright. Actually, we were both taking the piss about food not being there for us. (About an hour later as I replayed this, I suddenly hope that no-one overheard us and thought what a bunch of wankers these bloody Victorians are!). I waited for Chris L to arrive to hand over to the next runner. He came in a few minutes later, puffed but clearly elated to be running again. A quick toilet stop, then off again.

Boranup Campground (CP1) to Contos Campground (CP2)

Leg 2 was touted as the best leg, and it didn't disappoint with firm, formed tracks through the forest. I caught up to Chris Wright again, running with his client Matthew and runner #2 Magda. Ran with them for a while before I pulled away. The plan through here was to run very conservatively, save it all for leg 3 where the 4k of beach was. But the running here was too good to just loiter.

13k mark a girl in front of me trips, hits the deck then bobs up like a demented jack-in-the-box to prove she's just fine, thank you very much! I caught up with her later and we have a chat, she is actually fine, just a tad embarrassed. 15k mark I trip, hit the deck, try to roll over elegantly (and sort of succeeding) and run on. No damage, although a few days later my left knee is sore and stiff.
By now we are starting to thin out. Relay runners come past at pace, but there are still little groups of solo runners travelling through the forest.

It doesn't get much better than this. In the Kauri forests of the south-west of WA.

Came out on a road where the Kauri forest is dense and tall. It is breathtaking, and I slow down to take it all in. Easy to take it for granted that these places still exist in Australia, and I was privileged to be able to be here and experience it. Around the 22k mark, the trail descended gently towards Contos. I stopped for a gel and water. The sun was climbing in the sky, but we were still protected by the canopy. I was worrying what it would be like when we hit leg 3 and the exposed sections. 27K mark the trail hit Contos campground, and then abruptly turned right and headed uphill to CP2. This was the only 2-way section on the course and you get to see faster runners speeding downhill as you walk up. Quite a few runners giving us encouragement as we climbed, made a note to myself to do the same when I descended.

3 hour 22 mark I crossed the timing pad and entered the transition area. I wasn't really sure what to expect here. Knew I hadn't made plans to see Chris or anyone else here, so I stopped, gathered my thoughts and then headed towards the food table. Michelle Edwards, the 3rd runner in Chris's team immediately jumped through the fence and came in to see if I needed anything. I'd only just met Michelle the day before, and was a bit taken aback, but accepted her help all the same. She filled up my soft flasks (both, this was a long leg and potentially slow with the sand) and my water bladder. I grabbed some oat slice, savoury shapes (oh that salty MSG goodness!) and a few bits n pieces before heading back out.

Contos Campground (CP2) to White Elephant Cafe (CP3)

On the way down I did indeed repay the encouragement to those climbing up. Saw Chris Wright, Magda and Matthew as they climbed up. Chris ran over for a hi 10, I obliged but later on thought that could have gone terribly wrong (think potential headbutt, carnage… 😂). As I got to the bottom of the hill another runner in a VUR shirt was turning up towards CP2. We spied each other and started chanting; VUR, VUR, VUR… Probably annoyed the shit out of everyone else, but we had a good laugh as we crossed paths.

The climb out from CP2, and the first heat of the day hits as there is little shade.

Leaving the two-way section we started to climb again on a rough bit of road. Little shade along here and the sun was starting to climb in the sky (10:30ish for me). But when we broached the top, the view was stunning and endless. I stopped for a photo, along with about 20 others then headed off again. I've ticked over 30k and still feeling pretty good. Very soon Michelle catches up with me at the start of her leg. “Fancy seeing you here”, she quips and we run together for a period. The trail gives way to a series of rocky outcrops. Tentative over this, don't want to trip and faceplant the rock. Michelle and I stop to take pictures of one another with the ocean backdrop. Life is pretty good. (Well it is along here).

Others stopped to take a photo of the stunning
backdrop to leg 3.

Off the rocks, onto a sandy, dusty road past the carpark on Redgate Road and then back onto the trail. We dip down then climb back up to the headland. Outstanding views of the beach below as the waves gently roll in from the Indian Ocean. This is a mostly coastal trail, short shrubby plants, prickly and growing partially over the trail. This is also the start of the limestone coast, and bits of limestone poke out of the ground, trip hazards and ankle turners! About the 36k mark, the trail stops climbing and start becoming gradually downhill. I say gradually, it goes up and down, but the downs become longer if that makes sense. Past some limestone caves, travelling in a line of 6 people, 4 of us have or are still living in Tasmania. We chat about our experiences there, laughing at the 6 degrees of separation as some of us knew mutual friends.

Once we climbed, we were treated to some
outstanding views.

By now it is warm, but thankfully not hot. I'm drinking water and electrolyte regularly and having gels and part of a cliff bar every 40 or so minutes to keep energy up. Michelle has got ahead of me a bit, but I can still see her up ahead. We climb a steep rocky section, steel chain on the side for assistance and then one final trail through the bush before we came across the first real sand of the day (leg 1 sand mine being a whimpering pathetic excuse). I knew what was coming, 4k of soft sand, but still my mind was wondering how I was going to go along here. As I descended to the beach I could see people in front of me clearly walking, that wasn't very encouraging…

Start of the 4k beach section. Coming down from the trails
where the limestone cliffs were.

Hit the beach and walked. Sand was soft and spongy, all the way down to the tide line where a gentle swell was lapping the beach. I consoled myself, it was a beautiful day, surfers were out in the waves, family groups were lying on the sand or playing. It was an idyllic spot. So what if I had to walk the next 4k to Prevelly? But, it was tough going. I remembered Kellie Emmerson's tips on sand running (small steps, lean forward, minimise ground contact time etc…). Every time I started to run the HR just told me what a stoopid idea that was, so I walked. But I did so purposefully, striding along in the footsteps of runners before me. One girl ahead of me (a relay runner) decided that the run till ya drop, walk till recovered approach was for her. I kept pace with her for over 3k, each to their own I suppose. I knew I was still doing ok, passed a number of others along here. Indeed, later on, looking at results I'd pulled back 20 places in the general classification.
But along here I started to wonder if I'd misjudged the distance. We had been going for a long time but my watch still only recorded about 45k, still another 3 till CP3. You're shitting me. Michelle still ahead, I couldn't catch her along here. We exited the beach (hallelujah!!) and ran along a road and paved path section, and then yep, you guessed it, hit the beach again. Only short, then around a headland, up a path then bugger me if White Elephant Cafe was right there in front of me. A short run down to the front of the cafe, Chez there greeting me, holding up her hand to point me in the right direction across the beach at the front of the cafe and up the other set of steps. I'd noticed a bandage on her arm, and dark brown spots under her chin and neck, but my mind didn't seem to register any understanding of what that meant. Hell, my mind didn't even register at that point why she was standing there directing me when she should have been at least 4 to 5k ahead of me. Then again, 48k mark of an 80k ultra, my brain was somewhere behind me towards Contos.

Somewhere along the beach section before Prevelly. It looks picturesque. It was,
just a bloody slog to get through it.

Hit the transition area. Chris, Chez and Michelle all there. I'm asked a barrage of questions (Are you alright, what do you need etc. etc.) and they get me sorted. Chez filled me in on the bandage, a stack on the trail, lots of blood and a potential stitching job on the cut. The dark patches being dried blood. I was feeling the need for Coke, of the liquid variety but couldn't see any on the tables. I was also craving potatoes but settled on some couscous salad instead (Melbourne hipsters jokes aplenty over that). Refilled bottles, bladder again, emptied out my shoes thinking how very happy I was to be off the sand. Michelle grabbed me a sandwich, but it was Vegemite so I knocked it back, but she offered me her VFuel gels in return (win/win). After about 7 or 8 minutes I headed out again. Happy to spend time at aid stations if it helps me reset.

White Elephant Cafe (CP3) to Ellensbrook Homestead (CP4)

This was the path we'd run in training yesterday, so I knew what was on offer for the next couple of k's. Nearly trod on a blue tongue lizard sunning itself on the path, nearly shit myself when I thought it was a snake…

Art installation too much for some, modesty
bikini sprayed on!

Through some carparks at the mouth of the Margaret River, onto another stretch of beach and walk across it spying the cameraman at the other end. Honestly couldn't be stuffed running. Consequently, there are multiple shots of me walking in the sand, wry smile plastered on the gob. Over another headland, sandy trail underfoot making it hard to run, and then back down on to another section of beach. Really not loving the soft stuff now… Met up with a Brisbane based runner, who knew of me through mutual friends. Jaimi and I both bitching about the sand, and about how our target times had long since gone out the window and that we'd stopped even projecting a finish time, other than under cutoff. Finally off the beach, but the trail is sandy and soft. We wind our way through coastal heathland and scrub, climbing up slowly to the last highpoint before we descend to Ellensbrook Homestead and CP4.

Cliffs with orange lichen, on yet another beach section!

Jaimi pushed on as I stopped to take in a gel, and a few other runners caught up with me. 55K's in and by now I'm admitting that my legs are starting to suffer, but mentally I'm still very positive. The main thing was not having any more sand to deal with. Hadn't prepared for so much sand, and it was really getting to me. Caught up with another Brisbane runner and we both descend towards CP4 together. Cross a creek that runs out from some rocks, clear pools of water running under the bridge and then seemingly the worlds longest paved path on a trail using domestic paving bricks (Guinness Book of Records candidate). It ran almost 600 metres before rounding a corner and there was CP4.

I was pretty glad to get there, it was getting on in the afternoon and I was worried about the next leg to the finish. Arrived at CP4 to be greeted by Chris, Fiona who'd just finished her leg from White Elephant, and Michelle my compatriot from leg 3. Chris had my drop bag, I grabbed gels and cliff bar and then searched in vain on the tables for a Coke. Red Bull by the truckload, Vfuel Gels and drink, but no Coke… Finally got my long awaited potatoes, and then had some Minestrone soup, the noodles and most vegetables removed. It was great having the 3 of them there helping me out. I was in reasonable shape, but my brain was slowly losing its pizzazz and it was taking me a bit to process thoughts and actions. Not a great place to be. Finally, I feel I'm ready to push on.

Ellensbrook Homestead (CP4) to Cheeky Monkey Brewery (Finish)

Walked out of the transition area, eating some food and getting the legs moving again after standing around. Noticed my left knee was sore, a result of the fall 47k and about 6 ½ hours ago. Skirted the carpark and back onto trail again as we went through the grassy dunes and back towards the beach (again 😞). I was beyond worrying about the sand, it was the same for all of us, just keep moving and get it done.

By now I know that my watch is completely inaccurate in its distance measurement. By how much? 3 to 4 k by my estimation, but trying to work out how short I would be by finish was out of my current abilities. I just continued on, the song playing at CP4 when I went through now on a continuous loop in my brain. Really don't need that shit at this point. I can feel tight spots in my hammy, behind my knee and in my left calf. The prospect of negative thoughts starts to be entertained. So far no cramps, and no real issues apart from the knee that stiffens when I stop. Note to self; don't stop until the finish.

I turn my mind to the task ahead. The last leg is 18k, a mixture of trail types, sandy, well-formed, a rocky scramble in one section and an uphill finish on a gravel road. Right now I'm back on the sand, a short beach section then sandy trails. The cloud cover that was high and very thin around lunchtime is now thicker, lower and there are dark clouds way out over the sea towards the west. A cold front is forecast to hit later tonight, and it doesn't look great. Light is also starting to fade, although plenty to see where I'm running.

Light fades as I'm still on the Cape to Cape track. Behind me the clouds looked thick and dark grey
as a cold front approached out of the south-west.

On my own, running downhill, on the flat where the trail is reasonably firm, and hiking the uphills. A few runners come past, I pass a few others, we all say hello, pass a few comments re the race (the sand understandably being topic numero uno!) and push on. About 11k from the finish we hit Gracetown, a short section through streets lined with holiday homes, a similar feel to SCC100 at roughly the same part of the race. I stop, empty my shoes of sand (again!), down the last gel I will have that day and continue on. A k later running through a carpark on the northern end of the town we are confronted with a rock scramble. Thankfully there are some people up the top guiding us up the best way. Most of us are just more than a little battle weary and look like we don't know what we are doing. Climb up was fine, getting down the other side was a near disaster. Trying to bring my leg around to stand on another rock, a lug on my shoe caught on a rough piece of rock, and my body pitched forward with the momentum. In the nick of time, I got the foot unwedged and got it down onto another rock before jumping off onto the sand below. A few deep breaths, not trying to let the brain visualise what might have happened and keep going. That was a sure sign my legs were getting close to the end of their useful life for this race!

In a few places along here the trail markings are indistinct or a long way apart. As I approached one section a woman in front of me has stopped and is scanning left and right for another marker. I join her in searching, and eventually see one way in the distance, draped over a rock. We run together for a bit as she is a bit unsure of her navigation through her. I have the course on my watch, it's isn't great at a fine coarse level, but will alert me if I go way off course.

A small climb, a short section of trail where it was dark in the melaleucas and then another rock climb up to the top of a headland, waves crashing into a massive boulder in the bay, a 'BOOM' every time a wave crashed in. The climb up is not too bad, but I would have hated to do this in the dark. More trail along the headland, still part of the Cape to Cape walking trail. The light now getting a little dim, the last of the suns rays had disappeared over the horizon a while ago, and I realised that I wasn't going to get to the finish before it was dark. I'd harboured a small chance that I could make it but now realised that was not going to be the case. And it was in the knowledge that I didn't have a head torch…

Team VFuel 1, Dan, Tegz and Kellie (relay team order)
picking up their winnings.

You see, the night before checking in the drop bags, I'd managed to swap CP2 bag with CP4. And earlier in the day I'd totally missed grabbing CP2 bag. If I had, I would have realised the error then and grabbed the torch, if only to give to my crew at CP3. I didn't say anything to Chris, Michelle or Fiona at CP4. Embarrassment, chutzpah thinking I could wing it? I don't know, but now I'm approaching the turn east with 3.5k to go and it is what I would call The Gloaming, more dark than light. This is the start of the long uphill finish on the road. I can make out runners in front of me on the road, and one by one head torches get switched on. I kid myself it's road, I can run on it but when I start I realise the road corrugations are tough to navigate. Walk a bit, run a bit and then realise, it's dark. None of this long slow romantic twilight shit we get in Victoria. It's like a light switch, much like Queensland. One moment it's light, next it's dark. A guy behind me is having problems getting his Ayup going, then when he does it is like the day. I run in front of him for a bit, poaching his light as we zig zag on a section about 2 k out.

It's along this section that I pull out the phone, fire up the flashlight app and check for trail markers. I know at some stage we divert into a property with vines, but in the dark, it's hard to see anything. I message my crew to let them know what is going on. They reply and I realise I have no reading glasses, so message back (I can type blind, as I know the keyboard layout by rote, but can't read. Yep, cock-up!) to get them to call me. Cheryl calls, her first sentence “What the f#@% are you doing out there without a head torch?” delivered in that Glaswegian accent of hers… I mumble an explanation, feeling much like a naughty school kid, hauled up before the headmistress. My concern is either I run over the line without a torch (DNF), or my crew gets caught giving me one (DNF). The result, I'm screwed either way unless I can get a torch on course. Her next statement is “Where the hell are you?” Which was a surprise. Whilst I didn't expect everybody to be glued 24/7 to the tracker, I thought at least most would have some clue as to where I was (Later on found out the tracker hadn't worked all day for me. Almost like I'd never turned it on.)

No sooner had I got off the phone to Chez, and I heard the PA from the finish line faintly through the trees. What a great feeling that is, and I picked my pace up knowing the end was close. As the road flattened out (no more climbing), a marker up ahead reflected in the light and then I saw an arrow pointing left, into the paddock. I could see the glow of lights from the finish area to my left, the PA now much louder and I could pick out words, hear other runners as they crossed the line. Got to the arrow and realised I had to hurdle a wire fence. Even with my leg length, it was a stretch. For others, this must have been the final straw!
Run through the vines, friend Fiona has run out to check on me and runs back with me for about a kilometre. Such a small gesture, but was very lovely having her just sit off my shoulder as we ran back, chatting a bit, but mainly just having a friendly physical presence next to me in the dark. We ran alongside Caves Road, Fiona stopped and let me run on as she ran back and alerted my crew that I was coming in. One small climb as we approached the point where we cross the road and then run back down to the finish. There is a runner ahead of me, and another runner has just caught me. We cross the road, I nearly trip on one of the runners' heels as we jostle for position, then turn right and head for the finish line.

Not much elevation to speak of, but it doesn't convey the nature of the terrain, the sand,
and sections of trail littered with limestone. And that distance is so wrong!

The Finish

There is a sea of light, PA is pumping out tunes, and commentators are calling runners in. The 3 of us pick up the pace, cross a grass area with cars parked then approach the finish chute. One final ditch to hurdle then we barrel down the finish chute. I spy all my housemates at the end, phones out taking photos as I finished with my arms held aloft in celebration. Cross the line, stop running, stop the watch and then think to myself, “Thank fuck that's over!” I was utterly exhausted but extremely pleased to have got through. I find it hard to describe the finish line emotions. Always raw and honest, these emotions sometimes threaten to erupt in tears, hugs to random strangers etc. But tonight it was just satisfaction. I'd missed my time goal by over an hour, but on that course, I'd take that any day. And the watch registered 73k's. I felt more than a little ripped off with that. No fault of race organisers, my watch just recording at 60-second intervals misses vital details on twisty tracks.

And finished. Without weighing myself, but
looking at this photo, reckon I shed about 4kg
during the race. Photo credit: Tegz Angel.

Hugs from my housemates and crew (never quite sure I thanked them enough, never sure I do, to be honest), and then that Coke that I'd kill for just under 6 hours before suddenly appeared before me. Never does Coke taste so good during or just after an ultra. Spent a bit of time catching up with friends before I was hustled back to the accommodation by everyone. It was getting cold and I think they wanted to make sure I was home asap and fed curry.

Kellie and Tegz drive me home, seat pushed way back to stop my hip flexors from cramping. I must have smelt like a wild animal, both of them too polite to comment!

Back at the house, I wasn't allowed to drink alcohol until I'd downed an electrolyte drink, sick to death of electrolytes I managed it anyway. Alcohol warrants sacrifices!

Sunday 6th May

Drink, eat, drink, eat again, yoga, drink eat....

The Washup

I was asked afterwards if I'd trained on any sand. I said yes, but not really 'trained' for this. There was far more than I expected, and it made it far tougher than I was anticipating.
I was also asked if I'd do it again. Still considering this one!
What else did I learn?

1. My use of electrolytes and gels is working. Just enough to fuel, not too much to make me sick.
2. Still unsure that I am eating enough solid food, and early on. I need to try some different foods in training.
3. Training regime is working. By using the ultras I've done as the 'long' component, and using other activities to hone speed and build endurance through constant running, I have struck a good balance for my lifestyle, work and family activities.
4. A crew was vital. Before this race, I had not really thought crew much better than at least seeing a friendly face at a checkpoint. They are more than the sum of their abilities and my needs. I had previously thought I would do SCC100 without a crew. Not now. (And yep, positions available if anyone is interested!)
5. Better care needs to be made when organising gear drop bags! (Maybe #4 could help with that? 😀)
6. The maxim that an ultra is more mental than physical I can now truly appreciate. Long after the body started to give way, the mind kept me going.
7. I couldn't do these without the help of some close friends, and my wife Nicky who allows me the luxury and freedom to get runs in on weekends.
8. If Coke is not mentioned in the race notes as being at checkpoints, bring your own!
9. Distances to finish by spectators are now in units of parkrun. Since when did this happen?
10. No matter which event I'm in, I always come across someone who knows me or knows of me, yet I am completely clueless as to who they are. Apologies if you are reading this, and it was you...

Training will be about managing recovery, ticking over and getting myself to Macedon on June 4th, then start the programme for Surf Coast Century in September.

Until next time...

Hymn Of The Big Wheel

Race History of Duncans

Duncan Orr, was a spirited young man born and raised in Traralgon, Victoria. He developed a passion for long range running and ultra marathons as a young adult, fulfilling a lifelong dream in 2010, running his first ultramarathon in Peru. Duncan was also a committed and influential member of the Traralgon Harriers running club.
Duncan passed away in a tragic accident in 2013 and this event, founded by his widow Anna with friends and family, is run in memory of his life and passion for running.

From Duncans Run website

The race first stated in 2013. Initially offering a 100k, 50k and a 28k race held in December, it changed to late April/ early March after the 2015 event was cancelled because of dangerous bushfire conditions. The 100k was also dropped to ease the burden on what was a small but enthusiastic organising committee, and the 21k introduced, being the first section of the 50k. Building on the success of the intervening years, the 2018 event boasted the largest number of runners, across all events (6k, 21k, and 50k). Talk of returning the 100k event is gathering momentum.
As a local event, it was important that I support it in any way I can. Being my year of ultras, the 50k was always only the ever distance I would do here this year.

My History with Duncans

2017 started with me plowing through a rehab programme attempting to overcome a persistent case of Plantar Fasciitis. A comeback 10k run on Mornington Peninsula proved that whilst I could run, my fitness was somewhat lacking. It was a hot day for that 10k, I secretly hoped Duncans was a bit cooler. Always be careful what you wish for...
A fortnight later, I fronted up at Duncans to do the 21k. I have documented it here (along with the 10k and a 30k race after it). Duncans that day was memorable on a number of fronts. Firstly I was 10 minutes late starting, getting a personalised race brief from Travis, the weather was so unlike the 10k 2 weeks previous, and I learned what a wonderful place Tara Bulga was to run in.
It was the only time I'd run here, previously I'd entered the 2015 event, only to have it cancelled.

What Happened on Saturday.

Baw Baw Runners represented at Duncans.
L to R: Nicky, Carolyn, Linda, Michael, Lea, Matt, Becky, myself, Linda, Sheryn, and Pete.
(Photo credit: Michael Winterton)

Determined not to be late again, Nicky and I set off at 6:05, only to have Google Maps send us on a very odd route. Eventually pulled the car over, stopped and restarted the GPS (just making sure I took the right turn-off from the highway). Arrived at Balook about 45 minutes before race start. Not late, but not ideal. As is customary these days, I know lots of runners at these events. Along with the 2 big groups I run with (Lysterfield Trail Runners LTR, and Dandenong Trail Runners DTR), it was really pleasing to have a group of runners from my local running group in Warragul. Baw Baw Runners (BBR) comprises runners of varying abilities, experiences, and interests. Much like any other regional running group. Through the enthusiasm for trails that a number of us show, many members who have never run them have recently decided to have a go. With mixed results I must add, some courses are not easy by any means. And Duncans 21k is not your average flat track road half marathon! It was great they were there to have a go. And this was my first race running in a BBR shirt, I wanted to make sure it was a good one.

Mark, getting some serious air, back of Mt. Tassie
(Photo credit: Burning Harp Photography)

Changed, toilet (very important), and a quick group photo and then race brief with Travis. Thankfully this year, not a personalised one as I quickly get kitted out.
At 8:00am we were off. 35+ runners heading out in mild but dry conditions. The forecast was for late rain. How late we would find out. Early pacing is the key in an ultra. Too fast and you will surely burn up like an uncontrolled satellite re-entry, too slow and it can set the scene for a long day out with no zip. Conscious about running to effort, I let the group in front of me drift away slowly, so even by the suspension bridge, I was a good 80 odd metres behind the runner in front. But as we climbed back out from the creek, I caught several guys in front, all of us taking turns to run and hike the hills.

First 2k on Scenic Track, the main walking track from the visitors centre, then cross Grand Ridge Road to take a nice piece of single trail to get to Drysdale Road, a 4WD track. A gentle climb before we crossed the Traralgon-Balook Road. I started catching a few other runners along here, I wasn't concerned as I was running comfortably, HR was within a good range (for me). But then I was concerned as I came up behind Stuart Hughes. Normally I would see Stuart at the start, and maybe at the finish, never mid-way through a race. Either I was a. Going out too hard, b. Stuart was taking it easy, or c. I was hallucinating. A quick hello as I ran past and on I went. The next 4ks took us along the wonderful Duffs Sawmill Heritage Trail, a glorious single trail of ferns and wet forest. Through here the first of the 21k runners (starting 10 minutes behind us) came plowing past. Happy to let them go through, get off the trail if need be.

Nicole Vaughan and I, selfie at Mt. Tassie.

Running conditions were near perfect, mild, not really muggy like my last 3 races, and the trail was fairly dry after the recent lack of rain. Exit the forest onto Callignee South Road on our way to Mt Tassie. Less than a kilometre of gentle gradient up this road, but it seems to go on a bit. Last year this was like the descent into hell with the eerie light shining from the gloam, this year we would be blessed with uninterrupted views. 10k mark and we are at the peak at Mt Tassie, the highest point of our run today. Along here I'd caught up with a friend Nicole Vaughan and we stopped to take photos of the view, a few selfies, and just generally take in the good feeling you get from a lookout. Drop down off the back of the peak, a photographer on the bank to our right as Nicole and I run together. We both plaster our biggest smiles hoping they show in the photo.

And now the long descent begins, from the top of Mt. Tassie to the bottom of the road and the chance to pick up some time lost after the initial climbs. The road was good, so I was able to let the legs stride out and cruise down at around 5min/k pace. Caught Nicole again (I'd stopped for water when we crossed the Traralgon-Balook Road again). A quick peek at the watch, revealed that I was about 10 or so minutes ahead of where I was last year doing this as a 21k. Then we hit the bottom, and I knew what was ahead. A long, slow grinding climb with some gradients that just weren't built for running. A few more 21k runners joined me as we hauled arse back up to Balook.

Most of this climb is not runnable at all. Lean forward, sometimes with hands on knees we hiked as fast as we could go. Hard turn left into a cleared area and I could run here, but 100 metres later the gradient climbed again. Hike again. From here for the next kilometre it is mainly hiking. Finally the gradient levels out, still climbing, but I start running again. 21K female passes me, and we turn back onto the trail that leads downhill to Balook and the start/finish area. She takes off, along with several others. My legs not quite up to that speed but I ran down all the same. Crossed the  Traralgon-Balook Road and back onto the day use trails, across the suspension bridge and finally at 2:20 back into the start finish area.

Panorama from the top of Mt. Tassie. Last year, just low cloud and wind howling through the TV towers.

Back to Balook

Ran through the finish chute and straight round to the transition area (not before spying a runner under a space blanket in the recovery position). Nicky came up to greet me, ask me how I was. And honestly, I was feeling fine. Legs were feeling the climbs, but aerobically I was in good shape and more than happy to continue. Spoke to Cecile, asked how Chris was going and was surprised when she said he'd just left the transition area. Stuart Hughes was also just leaving, once again I was surprised to still be seeing him. 

Warwick finishing the 1st loop.
(Photo credit: Nicky Walsh)

Returning after the 1st loop.
(Photo credit: Nicky Walsh)

Changed over soft flask of electrolytes, grab rain jacket from kit bag as the skies were very grey, grabbed some food from the aid station (the Mars Bar slice to die for…), quick kiss from Nicky (sorry honey, I was probably feral at that point) and then I headed off for the 2nd loop of 29 k. I walked for a bit, eating, collecting my thoughts and wondered if one or two of the runners in the 50 I'd run in with would be joining me. After about 5 minutes the course returned to the trail and a started running again. Legs initially a bit lazy, but as the gradient was gently downhill, I slowly gathered momentum and was going at a pretty good pace.

Even though I'd studied the elevation profile for this loop, not having run it was going to be a challenge, knowing when to run and when to hike etc. The first loop was good for me like that. Crossed Bulga Park Road where there was a marshal point and headed back into the forest. The first drops of rain hit me, then disappear again. Lots of logging in this area, and it would have been pretty crappy to walk through here, but it was the start of a very long gradual downhill section, and the pace returned to my run again. A few twists and turns, in and out of some unlogged and fairly undisturbed areas, a beautiful cascade of water on my right at one point providing cool relief over the THIR and the back of the neck. I was wondering where the other runners were, thinking that some of them should have caught up with me by now.

DTR crew before the start. L to R: Warwick, Jennifer, Karin and Diana.
(Photo credit: Jennifer Rickards)

The descent continued, on and on. Only a few occasions did the trail climb upwards, but for more than 90% of the 6k down, it was just plain down. Finally at the 29k mark as the forest closed in and the temperature dropped the trail abruptly came out onto the Tarra Valley Road. And now there was a climb, all the way up beside the road. I was thinking a marshal point was close by, and sure enough at the 30k mark one appeared in the car park at the start of the West Loop trail. And here I bumped into Cecile again, with Chris. One look at Chris made me realise he wasn't having the happiest of days. A shared look between the two of them almost confirmed their concern for him. A quick hello to Chris before he headed off and I filled up my soft flask with water and electrolyte tablet. And it was here the rain belted down. Has done every time I've ventured into the Tarra Valley, why not now?

The next section of trail from here I will have difficulty in explaining, other than it was a complete sod! It was indistinct, to almost impossible to see. So much bark and leaf litter, the trail twisted and turned sharply and if not for the occasional parks triangle marker and event tape, it would have been easy to just get completely lost. And the climb was pretty savage. After a bit, the navigation and gradient were easier and I spied Chris ahead, eventually passing him. He was in his own space at that point, nothing for me to say except a few brief words of encouragement, and I climbed on. I was still feeling good, although the first real signs of fatigue were showing. Legs tripping on tree roots, stumbles that threaten to turn into falls, that sort of thing. I remembered I had a double caffeine shot gel in the vest, pulled it out and downed the lot. It actually had an immediate effect. 

Some of the gorgeous trail we ran on and surrounded by
 stunning groves of ferns. (Photo credit: Michael Cardiff)

Rain still coming down, but lighter now. I was wet through from the rain at the marshal point, I wasn't cold so I left the rain jacket in the vest. 33k mark saw the climb finish and another descent. The trail suddenly went from wide open track, almost 4WD road, to single track, and steep down. The rain had made it very slippery in places and I could see some very impressive slide marks from the runners in front of me. Heard voices and thought that runners behind me were catching up. But no, it was the vollies at the 34k mark. Impressive setup, Ham radio, generator, lots of other electrical devices squished under a marquee. As I approached, the rain came back with vengeance.

Walked out of here, eating half a cliff bar, drinking some water to wash it down, and then run off again. Still on our downhill slog, there was another 5k of it, a parkrun of gentle pace! I was travelling well, still on my own but quite confident that my energy and strength was holding up. But, somewhere along here (don't really remember, lost in the mists of time…), every ultra runners worst nightmare came true. That one-hit wonder of a song that drags itself from the record library of your brain and hurls itself onto the turntable of constant repeat. Yep, couldn't get it out of my head, all the way down here, all the way back up to the climb. Shit, even now writing this it threatens to come back for a repeat performance. And todays #1 with a bullet? REO Speedwagon – Keep on Loving You. Despite the pure genius of the song as a radio-friendly power pop ballad, it has never been a fave. Probably as it was (and still is) played to death. And so it was, after 5 unrelenting k's downhill, through a really shitty forestry area with a graded road that made the clay stick to the tread on my shoes that I came close to yelling out at the top of my voice;

“And I'm gonna keep on lovin' you
'Cause it's the only thing I want to do...”
Turned a corner at around the 40k and started climbing again. Realised that song had gone, “what song, oh that one”, and realised it was still there;
“I don't wannna sleep,
I just wanna keep on loving yoooouuuuu”

The elevation profile makes this look like a beast of a climb, but in reality, it is what some would call douche grade, sharp enough to know you are climbing, shallow enough to think hiking is taking the easy option. My strategy here was to run until the HR either spiked, or the climb did steepen enough to warrant a hike. What I ended up doing was using landmarks to run to, “the second stump on the left, 80 metres”, then walk a bit, “the last piece of pink tape beyond the left fork in the trail”. I knew at some point I had to descend again to rejoin our path from the first loop, just not exactly where.
I was trying not to look at my watch along here, but a quick check of time and a hasty calculation and I thought sub 6hr was possible. My natural inbuilt cynicism decided I was hallucinating or the calc was stuffed, but it spurred me on to keep going. 43k saw the final bit of down. I was still surprised that I was running freely here. Previously in ultras with this sort of climbing, my legs would be fatigued, and cramps threatening to make an unwelcome appearance. But no, all was good. And looking back, I have also recognised that I had very few, if any, dark moments during the race. Here I was, nearing 45k, the last 16 on my own and I was in a very positive frame of mind. Except for that bloody song;

Love this slogan.
When I try to explain at work my weekendactivities, well.... 

“And I'm gonna keep on lovin' you
'Cause it's the only thing I want to do...”
Argggghhhhhhh, just no. Please go away….

Marker tape and a sign pointing right, and a very steep pinch as the trail rejoined the first loop. I turned my watch on to HR for the climb. Partly so I couldn't see the stopwatch and put undue pressure on myself for a sub 6, but also to monitor HR on the climb. It was a carbon copy effort of 3 hours ago, slightly slower but not by much. My watch was set to beep at kilometre intervals, and it was climbing up here that I started to think the course was going to be long. As it levelled out and I was able to run, 47k ticked over, long before I reached the top of the climb, 48k ticked over. Shit, I thought, this is going to clock over 52k at this rate. The over-distance doesn't bother me. You start, you run the course, you finish. If it's 49.5, 50, or 50.5 it doesn't matter. But my slim hopes of sub 6 faded.

Turned back onto to the downhill trail and started walking, slightly demoralised, slightly upset. Watched ticked over 49, and I swear we still had 2.5 to go. But, I thought I was still going to do a significantly good time, so I started running again. And as the pace picked up, I felt good again. It was actually wonderful to still be running this well this far into an ultra. Crossed the Traralgon-Balook Road, expecting to be ushered towards the suspension bridge. But NO! Pointed to my right, and a trail I knew was a shortcut back to the start finish area.

Turn the watch back to stopwatch, 5:57ish showing, and just gun it. In no time I could see the tops of the tents and the finish chute, follow the witches hats around to the left, Dave Sutherland walking alongside with his kit bag yelling at me to just GO GO GO. Turned the corner, finish chute straight ahead and ran down in style, the biggest smile plastered on my face. Stop the watch, 5:59:22. Considering I was targeting 6:30 at best, more likely 7:00, I was over the moon. Travis McKenna had to catch up to me to place a medal over my neck, congratulate me. Michael Cardiff, Shane Winzar, Dave all there, having just finished their race and still getting warmed up and fed. I walked around for a bit, collecting my thoughts, coming to terms with just how well my race went. Chatted with a few other runners, women's winner Nicole Paton and I swapped war stories. Changed, dry, hot soup in my stomach I watched as a number of runners came in behind me. Was really glad to see Chris come in, with Nicole Vaughan. He'd battled hard, but no DNF, awesome result. Presentations of women's place-getters, then Karin and Warwick gave me a lift home to Warragul.

The Debrief

I think Duncan would have been proud to have this race named in his honour. Well organised, a stunning location with some fabulous trails, it now sits somewhere between small rural event to one that is fast gaining a reputation as a classy and challenging run. Add the 100k next year and it will be the full running festival again.

No race is ever perfect, not for me. Always looking to improve, maybe that's what drives me to perform the way I do? But this was as close as I'd expect to do in an ultra. Last year doing the 21k, my watch time was 2:42 (officially 2:52 with the 10 minute late start). This year, 2:20 and I was in much better shape. The benefit of 12 months injury-free training. Maybe I can go faster, certainly on a course with less climbing. Whatever, the confidence boost for 80k at Margaret River in May was terrific. So, for the next 6 weeks, recovery, then build back up for Margaret River.

50k results

"And I meant

Every word I said

When I…" Oh, piss off...

Until next time...

In A Beautiful Place Out In The Country

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

Wednesday - holiday to EnZed starts

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

Thursday - Land in Auckland and get to Rotorua

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

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

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

Friday - Rego and weather watching day

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

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

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

Saturday - Race Day, what we are here for

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Outlet at 5.3k in 53:20

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

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

Humphries aid station, 13.3 k in 2:20. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Millars Aid Station, 40k in 8:12. 

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

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

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

Lake Tikitapu at 45.7 in 9:32

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finish Line, 62.4k's in 12:32. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

62k

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

87k

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

102k

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

Miler

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

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

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

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

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

Until next time….

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