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| It wasn't all running.... |
This race, for me, was 12 months in the making. Primed and fit for a good race in the inaugural 2015 event, I managed to yet again DNF a race with a rolled ankle. At the time I was gutted, but hit the rehab hard and got myself back to start Melbourne Marathon 8 weeks later. But the intervening 12 months has been a bit of a horror show injury-wise. 3 weeks after Melbourne I ran Marysville marathon. Rough trail, decent elevation were one thing. But coupled with a still continuing recovery from MM, and carrying an adductor injury into the race were not the smartest moves I've ever made. Still, I soldiered on afterwards, training through, convincing myself that the niggles were just that, niggles, not the continuation of recent injury. It all came crashing down at Christmas. Trying to get fit and prepped for Two Bays 56, and after one of many terrible and painful runs where I ended up in tears, I was basically brought into sharp focus where I was at, what I wanted out of running, and the harsh reality that I was not in any shape at all.
So, in quick succession I bailed out of Two Bays 56k, Roller Coaster Run 43k, and a slew of minor events, including my local parkrun. It was not a happy time for me , but at least I got to witness a close friend run her first ultra at RCR. The rest did me good, I recovered, rehabbed, and built my mileage up slowly and deliberately, adhering to the 10% rule in order to avoid a repeat. Which brings me to Wonderland. At the time I entered, it was months off. Wonderland was part of the plan to get myself ready to run a 50k at Surf Coast century with my friend, Chrissy. Plan all set; build mileage slowly, recovery weeks every 4, incorporate trails, increase the pace, recover again. I had it all mapped out. A few things happen (they always do, don't they? No such thing as a perfectly executed plan). Moved house, new job, different working hours coupled with a long commute etc., completely changed my life around. Running no longer was the major part of my day/week/year etc. I had to change, had to face the reality of the change. So, I adapted. Changed the plan to do less mileage, more targeted sessions, with a reduced focus on massive long Sunday runs, but a more consistent approach.
And, just as things were falling into place, injury, yet again. Pulled calf muscle on a trail at Studley Park. Struggle through with reduced training, intensive physiotherapy (I have embraced dry needling in the same way I embrace a '97 Cab Sav….) Just as I recover from that, inexplicably pull up sore after a trail run in Lysterfield, massive swollen area on the top of the left foot. After a week were it just got worse, off to get a scan checking for a possible stress fracture! What next….
Had to chase the scan results up. When I eventually got in contact with my physio he said, “As soon as I got the negative (stressie) result, I thought it would be prudent to wait a few days. Because I knew you would start running again straight away, and I wanted you to have at least another weeks rest”. Knew I would start running again? No shit Sherlock. Funny thing is, I did find out the result before my physio, and yes I did start running again! And this, 2 months out from Wonderland, 10 weeks out from SCC, safe to say my training plan was in tatters. I have at various points in the last 2 months thought of not running Wonderland, maybe changing to a shorter race leg of a SCC relay team. Call it pigheadedness, call it obstinence, call it sheer bloody-mindedness, I don't know. But I never gave up, and with the support of family and close friends I found myself in Halls Gap on Saturday before race day, underdone, but excited all the same.
Originally 5 days out, the forecast was for rain on Saturday, with clearing showers on Sunday. Never has a long range forecast been so different. Scattered showers, sun, wind, cold, showers then sun again on Saturday had us all convinced race day was going to be fine, the really crap weather having gone through on Friday. Therefore, it pissed down all Saturday night.... Every time I woke up, it was just chucking it down on the roof of the cabin we had in the caravan park. Alarm went off at 5:15, dragged my sorry arse out of bed, had some food, coffee, and last minute gear check before heading to the start line. We already had been told on Friday that ALL mandatory gear indicated in the race notes was to be carried the WHOLE way, and it was dutifully stuffed into my hydration vest.
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| Dark, wet, and cold. hadn't even started yet |
“Remember last year where everyone bottlenecked on the single trail in the first kilometre?”
“Not me, I was too fast!”, I cheekily yelled out. Pre-race nerves and over-enthusiasm getting the better of me…. Countdown from the RD's, and off we go. Sure enough, first k's we hit the single trail and immediately start climbing. I was with a friend, Corey, whom I've met through Melbourne Marathon. He said he'd stick with me, but I thought more likely he'd burn me off over that distance. As it was, my climbing ability was better than his on the day, and I was soon running with a bunch of 20k runners. (Only realised when they peeled off at the turn-off, and I found myself as Larry no-mates…)
A kilometre beyond here was where last year I had rolled my ankle. Time and a somewhat selective memory had fooled me into thinking that the section I did it on was a very gentle and smooth section of trail. Maybe it was the rough and technical sections on the rock over The Pinnacle, maybe I'm just getting dim in my advancing years. Whatever it is, as I approached the section (and I sure as shit knew it was the place), the trail was indeed smoother than The Pinnacle, but dropping down considerably more than I remembered, and also a lot rocker in places than I remembered. Ran past “My Spot”, gave a silent thanks that I was still upright, and running, and pushed on to the aid station at the crossing of Silverband Road. DTR runner and friend Warwick King was volunteering here. Nattily dressed in colourful wig, shirt and skirt, taking pics of friends and other DTR runners as we came through. Was good to see a familiar face, as the next few k's were the uncharted territory missing from last year.
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| On the Saturday, Nicky ran the 8k, I volunteered. |
Runners at wonderland reading this may well wonder why I have skipped over the first 10k? Pffft, did it last year, it is the next 26k that really interested me!
The climb up to Mt. Rosea is not without some challenges. The climb alone is enough to get the HR up and running, but as you approach the summit (or several as it seemed), the trail became more technical, the rocks more slippery, and the turns harder to see in the gloaming. It had rained more or less constantly all the way to this point, when I realised that near the summit, it stopped. We had climbed above the rain. Whilst myself and a fellow runner rejoiced in this, the reality that we would descend back into it made us smile ruefully as we moved forward. Low cloud obscured all the views, the wind was mercifully light, but the cold was starting to get to the serious point. I was still running in a rain jacket and THIR, with gloves and dry thermal still in the pack.
Along here I was mainly on my own. A few people passed me, I passed a couple of runners, but it wasn't until I stopped to take a photo on a bridge over a ravine/gorge, that a bunch of SCTR runners came past. I tagged on the back, as much to just pace myself, but also thankful for the (mostly) silent company they were to me. Nearing the descent they all got away from me, but not long after the rocky technical section gave way to the flowing single trail, I caught up with 2 of that party. They ushered me past, but I was content here to just cruise down to Borough Huts. As we descended a group of runners came up behind me, and we also caught up with 2 other runners heading down. At one stage there was at least 7 or 8 of us in a single file, loving the ability to stretch the legs and get some speed back up, our average paces smashed to bits by the climb over Rosea.
I could hear one of the party behind me chatting away merrily with other runners. Turn around and realise it is a friend from PTR, Bec Howe. She says hi, then pulls up behind me to chat with me all the way down to the bottom. Nearing Borough Huts Bec and I ran ahead of the group as I started to get my legs rolling along nicely. (Bec reckoned I was trying to run away from her as she was talking too much! Not true, I'd been trying to do that 3 k's before, I just wasn't fast enough! #joke)
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| Views were to die for. |
Along here is where the mental side of trail running becomes important. Gravel road, long, straight vaguely uninspiring sections, interspersed with some decent pinches that stopped you dead in your tracks, made for a relentless slog. The rain started up again (had it actually stopped?), and the road was just slop in places. I had run through a creek on the descent to Borough Huts, and been alarmingly surprised at a sudden deep spot, potential ankle roll/sprain/break territory, so I was a little bit more cautious along here. Also, puddles on this road were muddy, you had no idea how deep it was, and what was submerged. A few other runners came and went along here. I eventually caught up with a runner from Naracoorte, Naomi, and we shared a fair section of the trail along the back of the dam, chatting along the way. It didn't dawn on me at the time, but that was a fair effort for a flatlander to get over that course. Have you ever been to Naracoorte? Billiard table flat is my best description!
The last section along Boronia Trail was very wet. Water across the road meant you adopted the “bugger it, shoes are already soaked” mentality and ploughed through dead centre. Legs really getting tired here, and I can feel the pace bleed off as energy levels drop off dramatically. This was as much a reaction to the lack of long hard training runs caused by injury. Approaching the final aid station along here, you could hear the cow bell ringing from a kilometre away! Ran past here, no need for nutrition, plenty of water still in the pack, I just wanted to head to the finish line. Last section of single trail behind the back of Halls Gap was just stunning, but was also my hardest section. Passed by many runners along here as I hadn't the energy to keep ahead of them, or up with them when they passed me. Finally with Delleys Bridge almost in sight, 2k's from the finish I took a tumble, first and last of the day! Muddy puddle on path, not wanting to step in it (see previous about deep, murky puddles), I aimed my foot at the side, the intention being to get stable footing in the mud there. Only problem was, it wasn't mud, it was granite, and my foot slipped straight out from underneath me and I fell face first onto the trail. Put my arm out instinctively to break the fall and smacked it on the granite wall that was beside the trail. Amazingly, no harm done; dirty legs, hands, and a graze on the right elbow. Picked myself up, and just kept on going.
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| Just one big climb really. |
Suspicious looks from couples walking out along here. They must have thought we were all freaks. Got to Delleys Bridge, and 3 vollies I all knew. Jacqui O'Connell, Belinda Roffey, and Carolyn Donovan. Big hug for Carolyn, ask me how I was. Stuffed, yes, stuffed was the answer. The final run along the main road back to the Community hall seemed to go on forever until we turned the corner and could see the hall. It was here, with people lining the footpath cheering you on, kids holding there hands out for hi fives, I felt like a rock star, or elite athlete, finishing the event. Emotions nearly got the better of me along here.
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| Final k's at Delleys Bridge. (Photo credit: Belinda Roffey) |
Hard turn right through the hall, managed to stay upright on the plastic laid down on the floor (a few others didn't…), and got that all important bling, and yet another THIR. Immediately greeted by fellow DTR's Narelle, Shawn, and Stephen, and a quick interview from Matt Bell
MB: “You hated me last year?” (In reference to my dark mood, post race.)
LC: “No, I hated everybody!”
Chuckles all round. Ironic(?) cheer from Kellie Emmerson (“You made it!”), and drank my first can of coke in years. Man, that was great!
I was sore, very fatigued, and pretty much brain dead, but very happy. This race wasn't really a demon for me, or getting a “Monkey off my back” sort of race. The DNF was just shit luck, it happens all to frequently in trail races, but that is the risk/reward we get from running these events. My phone battery picked a crucial time to die, just as I finished! Couldn't contact Nicky to see where she was, or even if my son was still in the cabin (and I wasn't locked outside). Thankfully fellow Inverloch parkrunner Kirby Ireland and her family gave me a lift back to the caravan park. She had run her first ever trail race (nice initiation there Kirbs!), having been sick for the week before, but was thoroughly happy with her effort.
Postscript: Beer, curry and Karaoke on the Sunday night was a great way to catch up with everyone, and celebrate a great weekend. Following day revealed very minor DOMS, little or no issues with recent injuries, and the knowledge I had just completed a very decent hitout for Surf Coast century 50 in a fortnight.
Until next time….
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