Standing On The Outside

Usually as a runner, not being able to run and going to a race is hard, very hard, especially when you are injured. But the weekend of the 13th and 14th of September was spent in and around Anglesea crewing for a team and a solo runner at the Surf Coast Century 100. And it was a fabulous weekend.

A massively sprained ankle 4 weeks previous at the Salomon Race 3 in Olinda had cruelled my short to mid term race plans (including my crack at Melbourne Marathon), as well as my running a relay leg of the 100km race here. In the days leading up I was a bit apprehensive as a small cloud of gloom hovered over my head. I really wanted to be running and sharing in the fun of this event, but it wasn't to be. I resolved to crew for the Dandenongs Trail Runners (DTR) team, and help out Peter Mitchell in his effort to run the event solo. It was one of my better decisions in recent weeks!

A group of us from DTR had hired a house for the weekend in Anglesea. Peter running the 100km solo, Chris, Lauren, Cheryl, and Andre running the 100km as a 4 person relay, with Chris, Lorraine, Nicky, Cheryl, and Andre all running in one of the Salomon Series Race 4 events the following day. What a busy weekend.

Race Start

Saturday was a dark and early start. I wanted to get up and see Chris and Peter off. It was cold at the start line, but great watching as the runners commenced with a faint twilight slowly appearing on the horizon.

First 20+k's along the beach and rocks. Runners treated to a spectacular sunrise as they headed towards Torquay.
(Photo credit: Chris Langmead)

The runners headed up the beach for a kilometre or 2, then headed back towards the start line, to pass through on their way to Torquay. Managed to find Chris's wife Lorraine, and got a lift back to the house, had breakfast whilst updating Cheryl and Nicky about the morning, then Lauren and Andy gave me a lift out to check point 2 at Torquay. This was the end of the beach section at about 21k's. The final section climbed up a concrete ramp, giving us all a good view of the runners.

Chris, coming up the concrete ramp
at the end of his relay leg.

Check point 2 (21k)

Narelle waiting for her runner to come in.

It was here that I caught up with a few running friends that I would see throughout the day. First up John Claridge (a runner from Launceston) came through. A quick shout out to him, a high 5, and he was into the transition area. Johnno was running the 50k, his partner Amy was running the 100k. Next was Andy Turner. Constantly amazed at what this guy can do, 100k solo right up his street in terms of a challenge. Another shout out, another high 5 with Andy, before Amy came through. She was second woman in the 100k at this check point, looking good, and gave me a beaming smile as I shouted out a hello to her. Yet another high 5 and she was in to the transition area. Very soon Peter Mitchell came up the ramp, looking fine, but ready for water and food. Andy helped Peter with food and water, then he headed off again. Chris was not too far behind and transitioned to Lauren who was running the 28k 2nd leg back to Anglesea.

Lauren's partner, Andy, was in the same boat as me. A sprained ankle 3 weeks ago made him miss his part in the team, and it was here we were having a discussion about our injuries, and peoples reactions/comments. Basically we agreed that this was the way people would broach the subject;
Firstly, comment about the weather ("Bloody cold this morning", etc.)
Secondly, comment about the race ("How is <insert runners name> going?")
Thirdly, "How's the ankle?"
At one stage though I thought my last name was "how's the ankle". Really nice of people to be concerned. For the record, it is healing, slowly...

Check point 4 (50k)

Peter loading up on food and drink,
check point 4.

Jumped back in the car to head back to the house to grab Cheryl, Nicky, and Jordan, and head down to the start/finish area. This was the busiest check point of the day. As well as the halfway mark of the 100, it was also the finish of the 50k event. We waited around for awhile for the first runners to appear, catching up with some of the runners who would be doing the 3rd (and hardest) leg of the relay. Friend, Narelle, was nervously waiting on her runner to come in. Even resorting to calling him at one point to see where he was! No pressure. Eventually the runners started appearing. As with check point 2, I knew several runners and yelled out lots of encouragement to them, whether they ran a relay leg, or the whole 50k. Pretty soon Amy appeared and I yelled out to her and once again got a smile and a high 5. Someone behind me commented, "Is there anyone you don't know?". It seemed that race officials didn't know Amy's name, as I was immediately asked who it was. Thankfully Johnno had just finished the 50k and was able to tell them, cause I had a complete mental blank!

James Sketchley (@sketrcher)
getting ready to take off in his debut ultra.

Whilst catching up in the transition area, Lauren ran in and handed off to Cheryl. Little did we know how Cheryl's race was going to go! Around 11;00am Peter arrived (11? felt more like early afternoon), looking tired, but still keen to keep going. Andy got his water seen to, and several of us steered him towards the food. After several minutes, watered and fed, he made his way out of the check point, on to the hard 3rd leg. Next in was Narelle's runner Ben, looking absolutely spent with the effort. a quick changeover and Narelle headed off. Caught up with James Sketchley before he went off, and offered a few well chosen words of advice (apparently, it helped!). After that there wasn't much else to do, so we retired back to the house, this time for lunch.

Check Point 6 (77k)

Cheryl: I'm so, so sorry!
Andre: Where the hell have you been?

It wasn't until we were driving out to check point 6 (77k mark) that we realised how long it was to get there. Driving was long enough, let alone running it. It was here that the true nature of an ultra became evident. Andy, Lauren, Chris, Lorraine, Andre and myself arrived as the first of the solo 100k runners were coming through. They looked in good shape, obviously a little fatigued having run 77k at a good clip, but looking no worse than I would at the end of a 20k Sunday run. (Truth be told they looked better!). Also the first teams looked quite good. Andy Turner came and went without fuss, Amy arrived 2 minutes ahead of Kellie Emmerson, obviously Amy having put in a good 3rd leg, and worked hard on the hills. She looked fairly done over though, and Johnno said she was pretty well stuffed, just hoping to hang on to Anglesea. No high 5 from Amy this time, her look said it all, just want to get this done! After a brief period Cheryl finally arrived, and only in manner Cheryl could pull off! Waiting for her was Andre. As she ran in to the check point, she spotted Andre, ran up and started apologising, profusely! Apparently, less than a k into the run, she had taken a wrong turn after clambering under the road bridge! Added 2k's to an already tough 28, still ran 2:45 though! Consensus amongst DTR, is that Chez is a high risk runner; on her day super fast, but subject to course indecision! (We love you Cheryl, we are going to club together to send you on a navigation course!)

Amy grabbing food at check point 6.

After about 30 minutes the next wave of solo runners came in, looking not so good. Tired, some limping slightly, dishevelled, they stopped, took longer over water replenishment and food intake, then continued on the last 23k's looking like the mind was outwitting the body. Cheryl hung around for awhile, then decided she'd like to go back and have a shower. I stayed with Lauren and Andy waiting for Peter to come in. We witnessed a lot of team runners come and go, some standing around for several minutes (one notable for nearly half an hour), waiting for team mates to turn up for relay legs! Went to call Nicky to let her know where I was and realised the battery on the phone was nearly flat. Then realised I had no signal, and rued the day the blonde with the low cut dress sold me an Optus mobile!

After awhile, we started to wonder where Peter had got to. Had he pulled out? James came in and I headed over to see how he was going. Tired, but focused was the summation. He also told me he'd run/walked with Peter for an extended period, and that he wasn't looking crash hot. In fact Peter had indicated that he was seriously thinking of pulling out as his ankle was really sore (an old injury that never healed properly). I went back and told Andy, and Lauren. Andy rang Pete's mobile, and thankfully he answered. Still running, and probably about 5k away. Went back and had a chat with James, when Lauren came over with a proposition. One of us needs to go up the track and run in with Peter, partly to assess him, partly to just have a friendly face on the trail. Problem was we all had either injuries, or stuffed legs after a run. Long story short, I was the least injured, I was the 'one of us'! So, dressed in jeans, jumper and a pair of Brooks Defiance with over 2200k's on them, I started jogging up the trail, against the flow of runners coming down, and very aware that my knackered ankle should, in no way, be running on this trail.

Andy Turner refuelling, 23k's to go.

Not sure how far I went, no more than a kilometre I suspect, before I saw the (soon to be) familiar sight of the DTR singlet and red cap coming down a hill. A wry smile from Peter and a "Ah, hello Les", then we started running together back to check point 6. Luckily for me Peter was running about 6:00/6:30 min k's here, I would have struggled to stay with him otherwise! Had a chat, he seemed fine although confirmed that he'd considered pulling out. When I asked why he didn't he just said, "I'm nearly there, better to keep on going!". Got into the check point, Andy and Lauren grabbed him and organised water and food and we asked him whether we was going to continue. His reply was, "Well, I've already rung Jenny (his wife) from the 70k mark and told her I was pulling out there". Which didn't exactly answer the question for Lauren and I! Eventually it was obvious that he was going on. The next available check point was at Aireys Inlet, 8k's away. We decided to drive there and wait for him. Was also a good excuse to grab food and drink.

Aireys Inlet (86k)

Whilst sitting in the cafe, and having a view of the path the runners were passing us on, a runner went past wearing a red cap and had a blue shirt, much like Peter. We bolted from the cafe, only to realise it was someone else. Then we joked with each other that at his current pace there was no way we would have been here so soon. Seeing how the day unfolded, re Peters run, we should not have doubted his capacity to find pace in those legs! Meanwhile back at the finish, Amy was overtaken by Kellie, but both girls ran faster than the previous record. Brendan Davies and David Eadie both ran over the line together, a tie for the solo men! Andre finished with a trademark jump, the team finishing in under 10 hours, a great effort.

After a a fairly lengthy delay waiting for Peter, I decided once again to head up the track to catch him for the run into Aireys. I had to cross the highway to get to the trail, noticing that the runners actually went under the road bridge. Didn't give it much thought at the time, should have when I realised how dangerous it was going underneath. Once again bumped into James running along the gravel road beside the inlet. He looked reasonably tired, but was plugging on at a nice steady rate. I was waiting at the bottom of a bitumen road (s'posed to be a trail race?) when, once again, the familiar sight of the DTR top and red cap came into view. It had been nearly an hour and a quarter since we left him at CP6, and he'd travelled 8k's! We ran back to the highway, and it was here that my better judgement deserted me. Instead of ushering him over the highway (reasonably risky given the amount of traffic that uses the Great Ocean Road at the best of times), we followed the 'official' path under the bridge. Well bugger me, how freaking dangerous was that. Tide was up, so it was a clamber, rock bouldering scramble across the 45 degree incline that was the bridge support. At one stage Peter nearly got his hydration pack caught on one of the bridge beams. I could only think what might happen to a runner, exhausted at the 86k mark of a race, missing a handhold and tumbling into the cold water. Instant cramp, struggling to get back out of the water, thankful they didn't hit their head on the way down!

Made it to the check point at Aireys Inlet, Andy and Lauren once again looking after food and water. This time Peter seemed in better spirits, calculating how much time he had to get to the finish and the coveted under 12 hours beer stein! 2 hours to run 14k's, lots of it on sand. We thought he had a chance, but if fatigue, or his ankle had a say, maybe not quite. Once again headed back to the house. It was now 4;00pm, I was tired, but realised that runners had been on the go for 10 hours. Felt humbled. Back at the house we opened up biscuits, dips, and a few drinks and made a plan to head back down to the start line for about 5:45.

He can still smile, despite none of us being there to witness him finish.
We will never live that down!

Finish Line (100k)

Everybody bundled into cars and arrived at the finish area at 5:50. No sign of Pete. No problems. We milled around the finish waiting for him. Watched as the race clock ticked towards the 12 hour mark, then witnessed with slight alarm as the race director counted down the final seconds to 12 hours. So disappointed that Peter had missed the cut-off for the time he so badly wanted. The members of the relay (Team name was Pete's Disciples, take note of that!) started taking funny photos using a Commonwealth games baton Cheryl had brought back from Glasgow. Just as we were in the middle of doing all this a voice from behind us goes, "So here you are!". And yes, there we were... Seems our esteemed leader had grown wings on the final 14k's and come in 20 minutes before the 12 hour cut-off. There he was, shivering, clutching his stein with the finishers certificate inside, looking like he needed to have a good lie down! To say we were suitably chastised by our tardiness was an understatement. Quick photo with everybody, drape a coat over his shoulders and bundle him into the car and back to a warm house. Final indignity of the day when the gas ran out, and the hot water failed, leaving Pete with a cold shower. But he had his stein, and his achievement.

Sorry Peter, the best we could do was get a finishers photo with you,
25 minutes after the event! (Photo credit: Cheryl Martin)

As the loss of gas also meant the stove top wasn't working, a hastily arranged meal of fish and chips was delivered back at the digs, wine was opened, stories were told, yet another ankle came in for medical attention (now 3 of us in the house had knackered ankles, a trend we are keen not to promote!) and plans were made for the future, all of us having been suitably inspired by not just Peter, but all the runners who went solo.

Belle looking bloody happy finishing with friends
and family on hand.

Whilst we were having dinner, Narelle messaged me to find out where her jumper had got to. She'd thrown it to me when leaving the 50k mark, and now needed it after having an ice bath! She also told me that our friend Belle was expected in at around 8:00pm, 14 hours on the trail! Chris and I decided to go down and see her come in. The irony of us witnessing Belle finish, but not Peter, wasn't lost on any of us! Thankfully we got down in time to see her and Andrew Shaw come up the finish line in 14:09. It's a pretty emotional moment watching someone finish an event that would normally defeat the rest of us; the tears, the laughs, the absolute thrill of finishing is rolled into one.

The Wash Up

Crewing for an event like this is full-on. Most runners have family or friends doing it, and it is a big commitment. You spend most, if not all of the day, following your team and/or runner around trying to not be late, but at the same time having to spend a lot of time waiting patiently for them to arrive at a check point. We noticed some runners (most likely from interstate) had no support crew, just relied on bag drops. One thing Andy, Lauren, and I agreed, is that many trail runners not competing would be happy to crew for an interstate runner, that is just what we'd do.

As for me? It was the perfect antidote to not being able to run. A real blast watching runners of all levels compete in a seriously tough event. Am I inspired to run a 100? Not sure, but there are plans afoot to do something of significance next year. Stay tuned. And to share the day with friends from DTR was just brilliant.

Hope everybody is still awake if you've read this far. Rather a long blog about a long and epic day!

Until next time...

What's the Frequency, Kenneth?

A note from the older Les, to the younger Les, asking why he ever got into this running thing...

What was going through your mind when you entered that sweat-box of a flat in Brisbane, late on a stiflingly hot afternoon in 1985, and decided to go for a run?
Was it the "condition" you carried, the need to remove yourself from the extravagant weekend alcohol binges that was, laughingly, your social life?
Changing into the cotton rugby shorts, the cotton T-shirt with 'death before disco' emblazoned on the front, lacing up the Dunlop KT26's, teethed clamped on a cigarette, whilst trying to avoid the smoke curling up into the left eye. Must have been the heat, nothing else could explain the sudden change in lifestyle.

Lace the other shoe, squint the right eye. Didn't you stop to think how ridiculously incongruous that scene must present to anyone?
Was it the confines of the flat and the neighbours having sex 24/7 that drove you outside on that afternoon?
Stub out the cigarette, a couple of stretches (might have read about those in a men's health magazine) then depart the flat, heading north. To Stafford Heights. Not called that for a reason. Stop to wonder why it is called "Heights"?
First run is not flat, it climbs, it is blindingly hot, everything is chaffing because of the sweat. Some wanker leans out of a car less than a kilometre in and asks you if you need help. Piss... off...

Didn't you realise that 7 years later you would be treading in water about to start an Ironman race? Not just shitting bricks, but cinder blocks? What were you thinking?
The endless hours of training, swimming, riding, running in Brisbane summer heat. Joking that work was just an interruption to your training schedule (boss didn't laugh at that one at the Christmas party), falling asleep at lunch time, one step removed from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome....
Couldn't you have at least taken up a nice easy sport, fishing perhaps? But no, you had to go and do the hard shit, never one to take an easy option in life...

You gave up on the endless summers of triathlons to take up running only. The diets, the endless books on training, amino acids (anyone else remember that 80's fad?), the neon coloured clothing, the short shorts, the really short shorts, the longer shorts, the short-lived experiments with one piece tri-suits? The insane early morning wake ups, with the long drive to yet another race? The training plans, the re-drafted training plans, the "stuff it, just wing it" training plans, the high mileage training plans, the low mileage/high intensity training plans? You couldn't make this stuff up!
What was the point, you were never going to win a race, not even in your age group?

Your friends mocked you. Well the ones who stuck by you long enough to ignore the only things you excelled at; talking about training, and steering the conversation around to talking about training. The injuries, the insecurities (I haven't done enough miles, I've done too many, and tired etc. etc.), the weight loss, the weight gain, the sunburn from the long runs, mucus freezing in the nose in winter, the endless race T-shirts you never wore?
Was it the paper thin walls and the metronomic squeak of the bed of the couple from hell next door that drove you to this point?

Halfway through your first 5k run, you realise you might be a bit unfit. Well hallo understatement!!! Nice dose of reality there, pal. Didn't stop to think that years later you would start religiously measuring each run, record times, and log the bloody lot of it in journals, only to later leave them all behind at one of the many houses you lived in? Then someone invented the GPS watch, and at that point, all hope was lost.

You've have thought it would get easier with time, the shambling uncoordinated shuffle turning into a gait that was smooth and effortless. But no, there you are, post run, face beetroot red, sweat pouring out of every pore, trying not to look the woman from next door in the eyes as she engages you in idle chit-chat.

Did you not think ahead to the family you had not yet started? Clearly not, or you would have pursued softer options. You were compelled, weren't you? It wasn't your fault, or so you kept telling yourself. And now, at age 51, injured yet again, you ask your older self to ask the younger self, why? The fame, the fortune (clearly not), the lifestyle? Well, maybe the lifestyle.

When you think back to the friends you have made, the runs you have shared, the coffee, the cake, the wine, the laughs (and sometimes the tears), the experiences, the successes, the failures (or so you thought they were, they weren't really), the camaraderie, it is easy to understand the allure, and why you kept doing it, year after year after year. Running is tough, but rewarding, and despite a few absences away, you came back for more; each time getting a bit faster, and running longer.

Were there any regrets? I reckon not, seeing as you are currently planning your next race/training plan.
So, no regrets then. Except one...
Maybe you shouldn't have offered the couple next door a can of WD40.

Until next time.

I Know it's Over

Well, trip to the physio on Thursday last week resulted in the confirmation of the news that I thought was most likely; no marathon at Melbourne in 2014 for me this year. Given that this whole blog was set up to chart my (hopefully triumphant) return, it now has to deal with the disappointment that I feel that I can no longer make it. Given the effort I had put in during the first 6 months of the year, I should be really shattered about not going. And given that only 7 days ago I was talking up my chances about hitting the start line, and possibly running with friends, it has suddenly become plain to me that it just won't happen. And yes, I feel gutted, sad and just a bit empty, but I've had a few days to contemplate this now, and once I overcame the initial raw feeling, I settled down to a quiet resignation.

Initial diagnosis was grade 1. Think it was more like grade 2. 

At least now I am not in some mad rush of rehab, pushing the envelope of recovery to get myself to the start line in some form or another. With the decision made, I can concentrate on getting myself 100% and looking towards future goals. Will I tackle the marathon again? Never say never, but I must admit it is not just any marathon, it is Melbourne that has got me hooked. Can't quite explain why, just seems to be the race that I'm compelled to nail as a marathon. Many tell me there are other, better races to run, but Melbourne is the one I want to come back to. Oh well, see what the future brings....

Interestingly, it was the physio who was talking up my prospects of getting to Melbourne. And I was the one going, "Nah, don't think so". See a few days before, I started doing the maths; how many days and sessions I had missed, how many I was still going to miss, how soon before the race was I going to be back to some sort of level of fitness etc. It looked like some crazy hi-octane, drug-fuelled Vegas gambling long shot; replete with high stakes win, or financial ruin, but minus the statuesque blonde and George Clooney in a supporting Oscar nominated role. The more I crunched the numbers, the less likely it was I was going to have good odds, or any odds worth laying money on. Despite the continual improvement in the injury (yes, some days are better than others, the full roller coaster ride of rehab), the fact is I am still not sure when I can resume running of any nature. Could be next week, could be 3 weeks, could be longer. (Potentially up to 6!)

Not mine, but it looked very similar!

Once the physiotherapist accepted that I wasn't pushing any more for October 12 for the marathon, he suggested I drop back and do the half (teeth grind here, must call it a 21k race!). Another friend also suggested the same. And my answer to both was the same. It was always about the full, not the half. All the preparation, the long races, the trail runs and races were aimed at preparing for the full. But, as I alluded to in my last post, tying my fortunes to one race is dangerous. But, this race has got its hooks into me. Can't explain it. My wife commented, "so now you want to do another one?!". Well, yes, but I haven't done this one!

In the interim, I am on the organising committee for the new Inverloch parkrun, essentially as one of the Run Directors. It will keep me occupied, as well as serve to remind me of what I am missing. Gives me a great incentive to keep pushing for a return. So where does this leave this blog? Well, I still have a marathon to nail (somewhere, hopefully Melbourne), and there is the lure of doing an ultra next year. Haven't decided on a course/distance yet, but there are several candidates being lined up. Mostly though, the short to medium term is about rehabbing and returning to running. Long term race plans can then be made. And rather than this blog turn into one giant injury rehab report, I intend to report on what some of my friends are up to running wise. Haven't got rid of me just yet!

Andersons Inlet, the view from the finish line at Inverloch parkrun.

Until next time....