Tuesday, 9 April 2019

Jeremy

Duncans 100k – Value for money ultra



“Is this hill ever going to fucking end?”, intoned Belle. Not for the first time, not for the last time today. 58K into Duncans Run 100k ultra, and we feel like we’ve been climbing long slow grinding hills all day. Except this hill is going down. And our tired legs are no longer enjoying the downs. Every corner brings the expectation of a change; to go up, or an aid station, anything. But each corner brings more of the same, a winding slow descent that you know only too well will end in with an equally long grinding climb up. And no aid station. We knew there was a bit of distance from the start of loop 3 to the first aid station on this section, but now we have no idea how far away it is. And we are running out of water…

This is the story of 2 friends, sticking together for a 100 k race. My story in black, Belle's story in red. Enjoy.

Duncan’s Run opening night. They’re bringing back the 100km!! Opening night special of $100….what a deadset bargain I think to myself, $100 to run 100km….I’m in!! Entry submitted, quite smug with myself at my bargain entry, then it dawns on me…that’s only 5 weeks after Hut2Hut you muppet! A 4,000km elevation event 5 weeks after a 5,500m elevation event….what could possibly go wrong?!!!!

It wasn’t so dire 11 hours ago. Belle had stayed over at my place and we’d got up at 3:45am to grab a quick coffee and breaky before the hour drive to Tara Bulga National Park and the start of our 100k event. 6:00am start with race brief at 5:45. We were both a bit nervous; Belle not having trained and only 5 weeks before competed in the Hut 2 Hut event in the Victorian Alps, me not really having trained and hoping that Cradle Mountain run 7 weeks prior was enough. The drive up was uneventful, the dark streets and built up area flying past as we motored up the Princess Freeway before heading south near Lou Yang power station. We chatted a bit, ruminating on the weather forecast; 31, showers with the chance of a storm. Not exactly ideal, but not much we could do. It was mild outside already at 5:00 am.

Arrived at Balook at 5:30, just in time to park the car, get changed, gear check and attend race brief. Standard race brief, follow the course markings, hydration, etc, etc. Except halfway through the brief, light fluffy snow started to fall, only for about 30 seconds. WTF? Belle and I exchange looks, what sort of omen or portent is that? Brief finished, and then the interminable wait before race start. Anxious, we are both ready to go. Everything prepped, gear, food, training  (well, usually) and now it is just 'get it done'.
The calm before the storm. Minutes before we get underway.

6 on the dot, off we go in the dark. A line of head torches disappearing out of the visitor centre, turn left onto the trail and head south.

Event Day.

I had stayed the night at Les’s in Warragul, which was about 1hr 15mins from Balook where the event would be staged. 3:45am alarm wakes me from a reasonable night’s sleep, enough time to get dressed, fed & caffeinated. 4:15 and we head off to race headquarters. The fog made it very slow going on the windy roads heading into Tarra Bulga National Park, making me nervous we wouldn’t get there in time for our mandatory race briefing at 5:45. We make it just in time to check in at registration and get our mandatory gear checked. Quick race briefing, a quick sprinkling of snow (I shit you not) and it’s start time.

Loop 1, 35k Macks Creek, sweat fest early

How best to describe this loop? 14 and a half k’s down, then a 15 and a half k climb, some of it round Macks Creek was definitely difficult to clamber around, let alone run on. Very pretty, just hard.
The start in the dark was tough for me. The head torch, although quite good, just didn’t cut it against the full beam eye-watering torches of some of my fellow competitors. Chalk up item # 22 in the need to get more running gear category. (Running’s cheap, right?) So I was picking my way carefully over the grassy trail, avoiding the small occasional rocks and general tripping hazards. Belle was sitting comfortably to my left and slightly ahead as we hit the main road down that descends gradually, then even more so. Just letting the legs carry us, don’t worry about the speed, it’s not too fast if it’s comfortable on a descent. 3K in and I’m already sweating under the hairline though and trickling down my back. It is pitch black, I wondered if this was going to be the limiting factor for my day (the weather, that is).

Early on, the pattern for the day for both Belle and me would be set. 4k  hit a forestry plantation and I needed to urinate, badly. Told Belle, peeled off quickly up a side track and did the business. Rejoined the race, about 20 places back and slowly made my way forward to find Belle who’d run up ahead. Around the next corner, 2 guys relieving themselves right beside the track as I run past with 2 women in front of me. Good one guys, it may have been dark, but head torches (as mentioned before) are bright, very bright… Runner in front of me looked like a friend, but I’d never seen any posts about her running here. Pulled up beside her, “Hello Les” yep, it was Veronica! Bloody hell mate, kept that well under the radar. A quick catch up, she’d done no training for 12 months, signed up on a whim to reinvigorate her running, and was in the thick of it as we descended. I was in awe. A quick check on her health after she’d had a few scares in the previous year. All good. I was happy and then moved on to still find Belle who I presumed had sped off down the descent in some glorious haze of speed. About 5 minutes later, head torch stationary on the side of the track. Before I could even make out it was her, she said Hi. “How did you know it was me?”, I enquired. “Was waiting for the silhouette of your calves”. Umm, right….

By now the first faint light is on the horizon. In the near-dark I nearly barrelled off course, missing an arrow pointing left and then the corresponding ‘No way’ sign of the wrong trail. Somebody called out to Belle and I and we retraced our steps to cut through a narrow trail to hit Bulga Park Road and a long, winding and never-ending descent to the flatlands north of Yarram.

It was already humid when we started so pretty early on Les & I were both sweating bullets. Wearing a buff so I could keep my head torch on my head wasn’t helping. This first part was actually really good running…a pretty gentle downhill to get the legs ticking over. Around 9km in the sun started to rise so the headtorch got stowed and I already felt I could regulate my temperature better without the head covering! The descent seemed like it was going forever now, we were on a wider road and I was ready for a bit of a change up of terrain (be careful what you wish for Belle).
One of many muddy hills that just kinda went on and on.
Really sweating now. Remarked to Belle, yep same here was the reply. Very soon it went from gloaming to quite light. Head torch off the head, wrap around the left wrist and continue the trek down. For the most part, hitting 5:30 pace down here. 9K into a 100k ultra that would freak me out, but on this descent, pffftt, just roll with it. 12K down and still the descent keeps going, in some place 2%, others approaching 10. But it generally is a cool 5%. Passed a few runners down here, then came up behind a group who we trailed all the way to the first checkpoint at the 14k mark. Simply a caravan parked on the side of the road, 1 table with water, a bit of fruit and lollies and not much else. Not an issue here, I still had plenty of water and food having eaten a bit, but not needed much on the descent. Hit the flats for a brief period, crossed a fence up beside a private property, then ran through what was once a minimum security prison.

We are travelling well along here, yakking away at times, other times just moving along. There are still a few runners around us, and as we climb up Hobsons Road, a few others join us. 20K in and off Hobsons and onto a path that winds left to right, up and down. There are about 10 of us here, all bantering about the day ahead, full of good spirits knowing it would all be a bit different 10 hours later! At one point we work out at that pace, we are on about 16:30 finish pace. We laugh. One of the runners hadn’t filled up with water, wasn’t even aware there was some at the last aid station. Was getting a bit desperate. Within about 10 minutes we came across another one, quick stop to refill water, then we went down steep steps to start the section alongside Macks Creek and the Conservation Area.
It was fine, I hadn't run out of gels yet. But a few licks of this and the run
would be over in no time.

This section was hard to move through. Climbing, a bit of scrambling, and several tricky creek crossing made for an interesting but slow passage through this section. In one of the creek crossings, Belle got sat on her arse, hard. Slippery rocks the culprit, not her dodgy balance! Thankfully no damage is done, just a bit of embarrassment and some tender ‘areas’.
First checkpoint at 14km we go straight through, passing through a bit of farmland & disused minimum security prison. Little bit of up, little bit of down, repeat for a while, then we hit some technical trails & stairs along Macks Creek. It was slow going through here, I am known for random gravity checks and had no desire to be stacking early on! A couple of creek crossings & I knew for sure I was going to end up slipping….yep, right on queue, I slip on a wet rock, landing firmly on my butt in a very undignified manner. The lovely Aude who we’d been running in a group with helped me up. Lucky for me it was a butt cheek so no damage is done, plenty of padding there!!
We continued on. As the climb crept closer back to Balook, we started to spread out again. Our semi-permanent group of 10 whittled to 6 then 4 then just Belle and I. Walking up a climb (30k, 3:50) I realised Nicky would have started her 21k run by now. Silently wished her good luck.
See, running and smiling!
Photo credit: Burning Harp Photography

Around almost the next corner, in the middle of a section of beautiful tree ferns as we were walking, cameraman sitting in a deck chair pointing a very large lens in our direction. Look at Belle, “Shit, you know what this means”.
“Run?”.
“Yep...”
So off we ran, all the while ruefully smiling at the cameraman. Around the corner and walk again.
We hit one of the biggest climbs of the day at around the 30km point, knowing it was mostly a climb to the aid station now. Mostly walking, we did break into a run when we saw a photographer because that’s just what you do (see, I was running!)
We are conscious of conserving energy early on. We might feel great, but still not one-quarter of the way into the race and plenty of time to crash and burn later in the afternoon/evening. 31k mark saw us hit the start of our trail 4 hours before. In order to have everyone go through the finish line, we had to be diverted to a path that loops through the back of the visitor centre. So, thinking we were 1k from start/finish line, then realising it’s an extra 2.2k was a bit underwhelming. Looked at the watch and the distance run and therefore expected for loop 1 was pretty spot on, so I just kept moving and enjoyed the scenery through here. A bit of open forest, ferns lots of white large fungi on the side of the trail. It was lovely through here, and after 4:52, we entered the start finish area at 34.4k feeling in a good way, and then to be treated like kings and queens by vollies in the transition area.

Through beautiful cool climate rainforest & ferns, we finally get back to the aid station at 34.5km & just under 5hrs after we left this morning. Inhale some ice cold watermelon, refill the water bottles, quick chat with friends who are volleying and we’re off on our second loop. We are both feeling good & ready to tackle the Mt Tassie loop.

I stopped to fill my water bottle, grab a packet of electrolyte, more food, and gels. (I had eaten reasonably well on loop 1, only a few bits of food left, but I hadn’t started on the gels). Loaded with water and food, grabbed a chocolate brownie at the aid station and a cup of coke. Offloaded head torch, won’t need that until loop 4 and grabbed my power pack to charge my watch as no way would the battery last the entire day. We headed out, yours truly with the watch plugged in and charging. Many of the 50k runners were completing the Mt. Tassie loop (their loop 1) and coming back through our area, was great to see so many familiar faces.

Loop 2, Mt. Tassie anticlockwise. The best part of the day.

Les had run this section previously so knew what was ahead so was able to give me the heads up on what to expect. We headed out of the aid station chatting & moving at an easy pace to let the food we’d scoffed at the aid station to settle a bit. No one likes a mid ultra spew!
Having run this section twice before in 2017 and 2018, I was mentally and physically prepared. I was able to give Belle a pretty good description of what lay ahead as we ran various sections. Having stopped moving at the aid station, we were slow moving out, walking, still eating (in my case, at least) and getting the body used to effort again. Coming out of the aid station, we crossed the Grand Ridge Road onto Telecom Track. Eventual winner Zach Beasley is already returning from Mt. Tassie. We marvel at how far ahead he is (later we console ourselves that technically he wasn’t 21k ahead as he still had at least 2 k to go to the finish, so 17 it was. It’s the little things you hang on to in an ultra). 50k runners streaming back down in the opposite direction, so many people we knew. Out onto Drysdale Road (a logging track), turn right and head towards some of the choicest trails of this loop.
Trying to think about what I need next...
Photo credit: Carolyn Gilchrist
Zach Beasley the eventual winner passes us on his way back to the aid station (yep, he was about 17km ahead of us, you just gotta laugh really!) We pass lots of 50k runners now who are returning after their first loop, including Julie who was tackling her first ultra. Trail runners are always a super friendly bunch & it’s always nice hearing the words of encouragement. We head into a beautiful forest full of huge tree ferns, it had rained extensively the night before so was very wet underfoot. 

Cross the Traralgon-Balook road and descend on the Duff Sawmill Heritage Trail, and through a gorgeous wet forest with some huge tree ferns. The trail is muddy underfoot, always is, regardless of how dry the climate is. It twists and turns and under a thick canopy of trees, the forest floor is dark. We run the descents and most of the flats, but as soon as it climbs we stop to walk again. Not an idle walk, we are hiking at this stage. Even though the legs are starting to feel the constant up and down of the course.

Bumped into a couple of friends along here. Jayne is doing the 21 (aka the 23)k run accompanied by her friend Seema, and 2 friends of mine Chris and Matthew (the 21k sweeps). Stop for a quick chat and a few words of encouragement for Jayne, a selfie then we are off again.

The forest smelt absolutely amazing, who knows what tree species it was but I felt like bottling it. More up, down, up, down of the trail here and careful steps on the more slippery parts. About 40km in we head out of the forest onto a wider road headed towards the towers of Mt Tassie.
Belle and I have a few chats through here, mainly checking in with each other, or just passing the time as we climb up the trail. It is gentle climbing, but there are a few trip hazards and slippery bridges to cross. Occasionally, a deep, strong smell from a grove of trees would hit us, and we’d stop and take it in. Hardly a sound, bird song, the occasional noise from animals away in the forest. But it was calming and tranquil. The trail climbed a bit steeper, dropped down a bit as the forest opened out and it became easier to move on a straighter more stable surface. At about 40k we exited the Heritage Trail onto the Calignee-South Road. Mt. Tassie towers are just over the next climb, hidden behind a grove of trees. It was along this road that Belle (for reasons only known to her) looked down at her legs, and discovered leeches on them just above the sock line. “Fucking hell, bastards, get offffff”. She grabs some bark lying on the road and swipes them off. Finding several more on the other leg in the process. I’m standing there, nonplussed as a quick check reveals none, zip nada on my legs. I don’t know whether to laugh or just shut up. One look at Belle and I just shut up.

Whilst climbing this road I look down at my feet…ummm what are those black things just above my sock line?!! Erghhhh LEECHES!! First time I’d ever been latched on to by these bloodsuckers…and 5 of them got me! I believe my exact words were “Fucking hell bastards….GET OFFF!” as I proceeded to grab the nearest piece of bark to detach them (not the thing to do as I found out later) I don’t think poor Les knew how to react towards me at this point, lol!! Leech encounter dealt with, we continue on to Mt Tassie.

Once they are off, all good and we continue on. Turn off the road onto a path that leads directly to the first southern tower, through a grassy area. The whole area here on Mt. Tassie is devoid of all but the smallest trees, a nod to the strong winds that must buffet the hillside. Past the first tower, still heading roughly north to the next tower. Get to the next tower as a couple of other 100k runners catch us, and we catch up with a 21k runners who are taking their time getting photos of the outstanding view (ignoring the power station south of Traralgon). Belle and I grab a few photos, selfie each other and then head down the path towards the road and another marshal point.
Selfies on the top (but of course!) we then descend down to the road & a marshall point, the drop down a steep single track to a gravel road.
After here the trail descends steeply on a single track and then exits onto a gravel road that mainly descends for about 5k. Along here, the mid-loop curse hit us both, toilet stops. Me first, only after running nearly a k to find enough ground to get off the track and not plummet 50 metres to my death! Then Belle about a k later. She ran even further to find flatter ground, clearly she has more specific needs…

I find I am in desperate need for a loo stop….but on one side of the road there are hills covered in the forest & the other side just drops off into nowhere! I tell Les I’ll keep going ahead to find a flatter part where I’m not likely to fall to my death (men have it a bit easier not having to squat!!) Bush wees sorted, we keep going down the gravel road before hitting a climb that was covered in clay like mud. My shoes were covered and felt like a combination of bricks and ice skates on my feet!

We caught up again and ran together again for a while before we stopped and the road climbed up a very muddy section. Balook and surrounds had 30 mm of rain the night before and the road had pooled most of it here. Cloud cover had kept the temperature down all day, but it was slowly warming up and there was no cover along this road. As tired as we were running down, when we suddenly started climbing steeply, and our quads decided that the angle was just too fucking much.
2 100k runners came running down and turned in front of me to head onto the loop 3 main trail. One of them calls out to me, “Hey Les, how’s the gastro?”. Which was a bit random. Just as I was about to utter the correct reply, his mate did it for him, “Fine, and thanks for asking!”. At which point they both burst out laughing as they headed away from us. Completely fucking random, I was dumb-struck for a few moments, looked back at Belle and she could only look at me as if to say, “What the actual fuck...”

We bump into the 50km sweeps Ross & Julie stop for a quick chat (Ross had had his own leech encounter!) Climbing is tough enough without shoes that feel like they weigh 5km each!

We are now at 49 k,  with about 4 or so k’s to go to get back to Balook. We don’t talk much, just one leg in front of the other, catching a few 21k runners as they climbed slowly. Having come this way 3 times before today, I knew what was in store, but it still sucked more than a little bit. Meet the 50k sweeps, Julie and Ross on their way down shadowing the last 50k runner. Ross has a dried leech bite the size of an inner-city electorate, drying on his foot! It looks ugly as. But we got the climb done. Eventually, the angle lessened and we had views back to Mt. Tassie (looking not that far away), and before we knew it, we were turning back into Telecom Track and a muddy path back to Grand Ridge Road. Cross Grand Ridge Road and then we are directed to the path that leads to the suspension bridge. This path is a beautiful scenic route for day use walkers.
Off the clay fest, we are headed back towards to the aid station, crossing over the suspension bridge, which I thought led straight to the aid station, alas, another couple of kms to go.
56ks in and happy to smile for Megan.
Photo credit: Burning Harp Photography
None on it today as we push on towards the bridge. I get a little ahead of Belle and then catch one of the other 100k runners that passed us at Mt. Tassie, Roger Chao of DTR. Finally hit the bridge, this path seems longer than it warrants on a map, and there is my lovely friend Megan taking photos. I give her a big smile and try not to go arse up on the bridge that sways massively when you run on it. She tells me Nicky has been passed, but not giving her much in the way of a smile! Climb the other side of the bridge, collect ourselves and then run into the start/finish line, 54.k, 8:14. It is party central, many 50k runners finishing, most 21ks have finished (especially those in my club, BBR) and it is them and Nicky who come to greet us.

We finally reach the aid station at 54km in a bit over 8hrs. The aid station is full of 50km runners who have already finished, & also Les’s wife who did the 21, we chat to a few of them that we know before eating more food (ultra running really is an eating competition) & refilling our water again. Spirits are still pretty high, even if the legs are starting to feel it.

Jason Rawlings comes to assist me, asks a number of questions. I must have had a case of the ol “Deer in the headlights” look, as he stopped to wait for me to answer at least one of them! I unplugged my watch from the battery pack, assuming that it was charged enough for the rest of the race. Chat with friends, Nicky, got some photos, etc and eat way too many brownies. After about 10 or so minutes, we exit the aid station and commence loop 3.

Loop 3, 29 somehow becomes 34. Where the wheels falling off took out the undercarriage. (SURPRISE GUYS!! IT’S ACTUALLY 34!)

This loop will go down in history as my new measure of how shit things are going in an ultra…ie “On a scale of 1 to Duncans Loop 3”  The wheels, axels, suspension….she all fell off!!

The first issue with loop 3 was that I discovered that although I’d unplugged the battery pack and stowed the lead, the battery pack was still in my vest. Even though I was only 400 metres out, I couldn’t be stuffed going back to chuck in my gear bag. Resigned to carrying it for 29k (hahaha), we walked out, unable to run as our stomachs were full.
Nicky telling me how her 21k race went. This may well be the 'Fucking cramps' story!
Must be an official next to me, has his name on the Hi-Viz.
Photo credit: Burning Harp Photography.
Back out past the marshal point on Grand Ridge Road, cross the road and head up Telecom Track and then turn left at Drysdale. This would be our exact path for loop 4. Heading back down Drysdale, in the opposite direction we’d climbed about 45 minutes ago, we noticed the clouds clearing and the sun hotting up. Bumped into a few DTRs we know, Warwick King, Oliver Mestagh and Veronica May (who I ran briefly with on loop 1). All would not finish, Warwick and Veronica pulled out, and Oliver missing a cut-off after loop3. Such is this race. In Veronica’s case, we met her climbing up a steep section finishing loop 1 as we headed down. She was completely done in but was already content with her decision to not go on. Belle and I stopped with her and the sweep (George Milhalakelis) and chatted briefly. I was bloody proud of her for having a crack. Pulled up short, but not by sitting there wondering.

Up til now, the weather had been warmish, but overcast. Now, the clouds were dissipating and the sun was getting hotter. We headed down the climbs we’d headed up earlier, and thankfully, the thick clay like mud had dried out a little. We bumped into a few of our trail mates who all, unfortunately, would not finish.

This section and a fair bit of the early stages on loop 3 were out on the open road, exposed. We ran the first few sections that descended gently, once again walking the ups. Early on I was looking at a section of trail and wondering why I didn’t remember it from last year. Running the 50, we ran this loop clockwise, not anti-clockwise. It seemed to have a long descent, which would have translated to a long ascent last year and buggered if I could remember that. Pushed the thought away as I concluded that after 59k of an ultra I was not thinking that clearly.

And one point Belle and I are running and she asks me if I have a preferred side to run on. I didn’t. So Belle recounts how a favourite trail running mate of hers is completely OCD and HAS to run on the right-hand side of here ALL the time. If she veers to the other side, he quickly admonishes her and makes her go back to the left. To protect his anonymity, I won't mention that it is Andy Payne. Lest he gets upset about Belle calling him out! (She desperately misses running with you, Andy, really).

The trail continued, we hadn’t seen anyone since the 57k mark, but the markers were still there, every couple of hundred metres. We stopped to take photos of a nice section of the forest on a hillside, then Belle informed me that she was running low on water. I admitted mine wasn’t exactly overflowing, and we both wondered where the hell the aid station was. From my memory, there had been a longish time (read distance) between the last one and Balook last year. But running a 50 you will be somewhat faster. 65k’s+ today and the pace considerably slower, the time longer, and the heat of the day a bit of a worry.

We continued on, running the downs, walking the hills. It was getting continually hotter…which meant I was drinking more water. By about 65km I was all but out & advised Les. Surely there’d be a water stop soon? He got out his phone to check the course & we couldn’t see a water point for quite some time. My energy levels were depleting fast…I was caught between trying to pick up the pace to get to an aid station quicker or conserving energy. Les & I decided on the latter & decided to walk til we got to that aid station. My right calf was also getting a bit tight…put it down to cramping due to loss of salt! Now the mind games began…or as I like to call it the Gollem phase of an ultra. ”What the fuck were you even thinking doing this so close to Hut2Hut?” “You’re ruining Les’s race, he’d be so much further ahead without you” “Let him go ahead & complete the last loop on his own later” “WE HATES RUNNING”!!! 

After a bit of chat, we decided to pull my phone out, check the map on the app. It told us we were on the right trail, but I couldn’t work out how far away from the aid station we were. A bit worried, we decided to not do any running, just walk. That way we wouldn’t sweat any more than we currently were. But, it would take us longer to get there, the lesser of two evils.

67k and the trail climbs again, gently, but relentlessly. By now Belle is flagging a bit. I’m not much better and can hike up the road quicker. This then sets the pattern of the day; faster hiking by me, get to a trail or a hill peak and I wait for Belle to catch up. On and on this trail went. It was basically a road, logging or fire trail, I’m not sure. I got ahead a bit then came round a corner to see a photographer sitting in a deck chair. He points the camera at me, I give him my best smile and thumbs up as he just told me an aid station is around 200 metres away. I could have hugged him, had his babies, whatever…

We finally got to a water point at 72km. 17km since the main aid station…I reckon I must’ve looked like a cast member of The Walking Dead by now. Filled my water bottles..skulled some electrolytes to try to get some salt back in, but the damage had already been done. The next 5km to the next aid station was through beautiful rain forest which I should’ve been taking in…but all I could do was put one foot in front of the other. Thankfully they had the drink of the trail Gods here…Coke. I had a couple of cups to try & give myself some energy. It is here that Les learns from the 50km sweeps that there’d been a 3km diversion at the start of the loop…but doing maths during an ultra is hard so it didn’t compute that this added to our loop, lol!!

72.4k’s, 11:24 (5:24pm) and the aid station a checkpoint on the Grand Ridge Road was a most welcome site. A bit of coke, refill my bottle and bladder, eat a bit of orange and a few lollies as Belle comes in, looking stuffed. Roger Chao is there telling me he hoped I wouldn’t catch him! Another runner (Alex Ritchie?) is also there. He heads off, then Roger, Belle and I follow soon after. A steep short climb on the other side into another section of temperate rainforest. It is beautiful in the late afternoon, a golden hue shines on all the taller trees, and it really feels like autumn. Crest the rise and start the descent back to the Tarra Valley road. It is 5k between aid stations, almost laughable seeing the gap that was between Balook and the first! The final 2k descends steeply through a forest that is a bit muddy, the track winds around a lot and even in daylight, is hard to follow without any marker tape. I hear voices, up ahead, but I don’t think it’s the aid station. Continue on and then realise there is someone ahead of me. Belle is back about 100 metres at this point. I check back every now and then, either see her or hear her progress along the trail. She’s not giving up, just ploughing on regardless.
Just before the end, I catch Ross and the last 50k runner. Follow them to the aid station, scrubbing the mud off our shoes on the bitumen (well, Ross was in sandals, but that’s Ross!) and once again grabbed some coke. Julie ( 50k sweep is there). But this is where Ross says, “How did you like the diversion?”.
“What diversion?”
“The one at the start of the loop.”

It suddenly dawns on me that was the section I was unsure about. But even then I didn’t realise it had added over 3k to our race. I know from here it is about 6, nearly 7, most climbing for the first 5k. The light is now fading deep in the valley. As we start to climb I hope it is not too soon before dark falls. I neglected to take my head torch with me, it will be fun getting back on some of those trails near the visitors centre.

Thankfully, the climb up is lovely. We pass a trickling waterfall, both stop to wet our THIRs and take a drink of the fresh cool water. Spot a burrowing crayfish on the trail, claws open and in a defence pose as I walk up to it. We roll along. No running, the climb is more than enough. As we climb a bit more, spot Roger ahead. Belle and I think that we may play leapfrog with him the rest of the race.
We pass a sign that says ‘Visitors Centre – 6.5k’. “Bullshit”, we both call out after checking the distance on our watches. We reckon it’s about 3 at the most.
We now have what should be a 6km climb back to Balook. Due to me almost self-combusting, we had been out there longer than expected & light was starting to fade. We come to a sign that tells us 6.5km to the visitors' centre….Les says that can’t be right, we should only have 3km to go. I was shattered but tried not to let it make me feel even worse than I already did.
Keep climbing. Lose sight of Roger, see him again, lose sight again. It becomes a bit of a game, how long can I keep him in sight.  I realise that Belle is a fair way behind, so I let him go and slow down to let her catch up. The sun recedes over the horizon, now officially in the twilight. We climb a bit more, then come out to a cleared area where the road has recently been graded and widened. I know this is the trail towards the Visitor Centre. I slow down a bit more, Belle slow on the climbs. Not much chat between us now, just stoic, grim forward progress. A female runner passes us as we approach a checkpoint, 83.6k 13:38 hours. At the time I realised we’d travelled a bit further, but the advertised map showed a direct route to Balook, so not that much time. But when we got to a junction where this morning we’d detoured around the back of the visitors' centre, I thought we should have gone straight ahead. But no, a detour it was. My heart sank. We weren’t going to finish loop 3 with much change left over from 33k, nearly a good 4k over. And, it was now dark. Twilight this time of year doesn’t last. As we turned onto the track, I followed Belle, she had her head torch. But it was difficult to see the trail at her feet. In a bit of frustration, I pulled out the phone, turned on the flashlight app and used it to illuminate the path, not very well, but effective enough for me to navigate. 2.2k of this and then we entered the start/finish area. Neither of us bothering to walk, the photo taken makes us look like we are well over this, can really be honest, both of us were. 87K, 14:28 hours and we still have at least 21k to go. Finish before midnight now starting to look well out of reach.

I had my head torch but Les didn’t…so we made do with the light of mine & Les’s phone light. I now told Les to continue on & do Loop 4 ahead of me…he said no, we agreed to do this together & we will. I zombie death marched into the aid station at 87km in the pitch black…we’d been out there for almost 14.5 hours. Watermelon, soup, refill water bottles…my beautiful friends Em & Caz tried their best to lift my spirits, feeding me hot soup & Coke. Right, let's get this fucker done. I grab my poles as I know I’ll need them to get me through this next loop and we head out.
86k at what should be 79k of or run. And this pretty much sums up how we both felt.
Zoom in and check out Belle's 'Death Stare' towards Matty V!!
Photo credit: Burning Harp Photography
Before we’d reached the end of the loop, Belle had told me to head on and leave for loop 4. It had echoes of Caz and myself in Tarawera last year. And like then, my reply was that we were sticking together. We’d made a pact well before today, we would finish together, whatever was to come.
Once again, Matt was there to greet us. Megan taking photos and coming over to chat. I also remember Em Fisher and Caz Donovan, mainly because I’ve seen photos. Helen Orr got us both some pumpkin soup. Beyond that, I don't recall anyone else, or anything else other than Belle and I  ourselves out of that little bit of an oasis. That was the toughest part, leaving that. But worse was to come…

A lighter moment before we headed back out into the night. (Lighter
moment being that we realise we are not dead)
Photo credit: Burning Harp Photography.
Halfway through loop 3, I’d noticed that my feet were hurting. Then I’d thought it was just time on my feet in newish shoes. Now I was sure it was from having wet feet earlier in the day. The pain wasn’t bad, but I was quite uncomfortable, the more I moved, the more I could feel it. Belle had grabbed poles, her calf was really sore and she thought she might have strained it. As we were about to leave, I hoped none of this would derail our progress.

Loop 4. Mt. Tassie clockwise. In the dark; mentally, physically and in reality.

We walk out, Belle decides to call her husband to check and to let him know about our progress. Comatose would be a good summary. I kept moving, slowly so as not to leave Belle, but enough that I wasn’t standing still. Got to the marshalling point, crossed Grand RidgeRroad and headed up Telecom Track, just as the female winner came back in the opposite direction. Certain that Belle knew where to go, I headed up Telecom for a few hundred metres and then waited as a runner came down the track towards me. It was Jason Rawlings, pacing for Annie Darcy. My friend Annie was going to podium in 2nd place, I was ecstatic, gave her a hug as she ran off.

I’m not in a good way. I decide to stop & message Paul back home a couple of km in once I get some reception to let him know I’m still a fair way off finishing. I get to the marshall point & they tell me to “head up the road”. I’m pretty sure I was delirious at this stage & started heading up the road., passing the trail I should’ve gone on. I knew we didn’t come down a road when we did this loop in reverse so why I headed up I don’t know. I really started to panic now….calling out Les’s name. After a couple of hundred metres I head back down the road… totally overwhelmed & in tears by now. I finally find Les at the start of the trail I should’ve taken. The poor bastard is beside himself with worry & blaming himself. After a few deep breaths, I calm myself enough to keep going, reassuring him it wasn’t his fault. After this little meltdown, I actually start to feel better…well except for that tight calf that is now really giving me grief.
Belle smashing coke and soup!
Photo credit: Em Fisher

Then I heard Belle calling my name. Called back, but she didn’t hear me. I started walking back, expecting to see her coming up around the corner. Nope. I kept going, on the edge of panic. I turn the last corner, the entrance to the track I’ve just run up ahead, the road just beyond when I hear her call out again. This time from behind me and the urgency and panic in her voice cannot be masked. I run as fast as my fatigued legs could carry me back to the marshal point and tell them a runner is missing. They immediately grab torches and we head up the road. I call out her name, and she replies. Thankfully closer as she is heading back towards us as we stand at the foot of Telecom track. She comes into view of the torches, face screwed up, in tears and trying hard not to cry. A part of me broke inside. I was supposed to be looking out for her, and I stupidly let her go off-course. At night,  with over 20k to go there was a fair amount of “fuck this shit”, this wasn’t in the script of our day, and certainly not now, not at this point of the race. She assured me she was fine, and we continued on. I vowed to myself not to let that happen again.



We turn left onto Drysdale, one last time today. Now in the dark, so different to 6 hours previously. The trail has dried out even in that short amount of time, and with the cooler nighttime air, we feel better and a little more energetic. Quite possibly also having food and soup back at Balook. Pass the turn to loop 3, but keep going on our now clockwise path towards Mt. Tassie. Hit the bottom, then we know we have a 5k climb. By now, no running at all, just hiking on this section. I stride up, slowly peeling away from Belle settling into what I thought was going to be a straightforward last loop. Then, headtorch went dead. I was in total darkness with only the faint silhouette of Belle's torch behind me. It was if I'd turned it off. Hit the switch, it turns back on, stays on and I wonder why it did it. Think no more of it. Until 30 minutes later, darkness again. Shit, what's going on here? A kilometre later, my watch beeps low battery. Usually, this gives me a clue that within 30 minutes I will run out of battery completely. No way are we going to finish in that time. So, looks like I'll have to get the rest on the app on my phone. A bit mentally pissed off at this point, wait for Belle to catch up, needed to just walk with her for a bit. Then almost immediately, watch beeps one final time and that's it, all over Red Rover. 95k's. Stop, grab the phone and start up the app to record me. And discover I'm still carrying the battery pack from loop 2. Still forgot to get shot of it at the last stop at Balook. A minute later, head torch goes out again. Spiffing, just spiffing. Fucking technology...
With one of my besties, Caz.
I look half asleep. I probably wish I was tucked
up in bed at this time of night.
Photo credit: Em Fisher

The poles are definitely helping me keep a better pace though. We hit the bottom of Mt Tassie and get ready for the 5km climb. Lots of hiking the shit out of here. 

After a long time on that road, we reach the turn-off, and a short section of single track that leads us to the marshal point adjacent to Mt. Tassie. 96k, 10:18pm and the wind is blowing briskly up here on this exposed section where the marshal point is located. A voice calls out to me, Becky Matthews, BBR and Duncans vollie co-ordinator. She comes over to see how I'm going. Okay, is pretty much the summation. Tired, getting cold at the aid station.
At 96km we hit the marshall point, cross the road & start the climb up to the towers. Umm, where the fuck is the trail? We can’t see any markers. We decide to go up a very steep trail & hope for the best! Eventually, it links up to the trail we’re meant to be on and we reach the towers. 
We head off, one of the vollies shining a torch down the road we have to cross so we can locate the path on the other side with the reflective tape. I knew where we were going but thanked him anyway. Well, I thought I knew. Got off the road, turned the corner on the trail and then completely lost sight of any markers at all. Reflective or otherwise. Belle and I stop, shine our torches around, but can't see shit. There is a path directly in front of us, but no tape. I climb up and spy a path heading right, and directly at the top of the hill is the first tower. "This way", I tell Belle, and we climb directly towards the tower. As we near the top, a path on the left appears and we see directional arrows. Yep, off course for about 300 metres! The wind is blowing vigorously up here. I'd stowed my thermal top in the pack for this loop, contemplated getting it out and putting on, but knew it wasn't long up here before we would descend and get shelter. Across the top, past the second group of towers and then we were heading back towards the Calignee South Road. We were about 20 metres apart when this terrific noise of an animal crashing through the bush on our left. "What the fuck was that?", Belle asked. "Marsupial" was my quick reply. In truth, it sounded like a fucking Bison. Not the characteristic sound of a kanga or wallaby thumping the ground.
Some beast of the night in the long grass scares the shit out me…as Les said it was probably a “marsupial” but at that point it sounded like something that was coming to eat me! 
Turn onto the road, pass the point of Belle leech incident of many hours before, and head roughly east before turning off into the forest. So different through here at night. Mt. Tassie is the highest point on the course, not just this loop, and we know it is basically a straight descent towards Balook, albeit with a few climbs chucked in for good measure. My head torch goes off again, for the tenth time in the last hour. Turn it back on. 30 seconds later it goes out again. Fuck, really? Just so over this shit. Turn it on, it lasts for maybe a minute, goes off again. Next 10 minutes this pattern is repeated so much that I eventually take the shitty thing off my head and wrap it on my wrist with my thumb poised on the on/off switch so I can keep the light going. I finish the race this way. But once I get moving again, and I'm in some sort of rhythm of moving, light off, light back on again, I calm down and just immerse myself in the surroundings. As the path twists and turns and descends, the forest canopy closes in, and it really is dark, and very silent. I can see Belle's head torch behind me, anywhere between 50 to 100 metres and I can clearly hear her footsteps and poles hitting the ground. I move on, let my mind wander for a bit, taking away the feel of the pain in my feet, which by now is quite painful.

At some point I know I have been daydreaming, or the nighttime equivalent. My mind has taken to making dumb sayings like "I run, long run" in much the vain of "James, James Bond". Shit, at one point I even did it in Sean Connery's voice... I must have either closed my eyes or got so distracted I suddenly came to, standing in front of a whole bunch of hazard tape that marked the approach to a wooden bridge. I was just standing there, but it was like I'd been jolted out of a dream. I realised where I was and was scared I'd left Belle again, shot around to look behind me, only to see her head torch 30 metres behind. I was a bit shaken up but moved off before she saw me and my face betrayed the fact that I was shitting bricks, just casually. Across the bridge, and the path steepens up again and I think we are not too far away from the end. I hear voices again, but thankfully not in my head. An aid station up on the Traralgon-Balook Road, music also pumping out. But, as is the case in the bush at night, those voices and music were at least 1k away. Or so it seemed.

The next few kms I don’t remember a whole lot, except that I just wanted to finish. I keep hearing voices in the forest thinking I’m losing my tiny mind….turns out they were aid station voices, the trail twisted & turned that much that we’d be in line with it then away from it. We finally get to that aid station at 103km, I remember pumping music & the guys there being awesome & trying to lift our spirits, telling us we were looking strong! LIES!!! 4km to go still and we were just near midnight.

Aid station had a fire pit, that alone was making it a struggle to leave. It is 10 minutes to midnight, we are about to clock over 18 hours. We beyond my bedtime. Belle looks done in, but as we leave to climb back up to Drysdale Road, she just gets her head down and hikes up the climb. I wait for her at the top, then we continue up the road towards Telecom Track. I didn't know it at the time, but we are already at 104k of our 100k race, but I do know we have about 3k to go. One final trek down Telecom, my head torch on and off like a strobe light. If it wasn't for the fact that I needed it to get home, it would have been smashed against a tree and thrown into the pack. Grand Ridge Road, marshal point and then we are heading to home via the suspension bridge.
Forward is a pace, forward is a pace was my mantra now. Back over the suspension bridge, we just walk now. Neither of us feels any need to run.
The climb back up from the bridge is in silence, we just walk and get ourselves back to the finish. Then, after 18+ hours we spot the lights of the finish area, hear the music. Just before the last corner, we decide to run it in. No more than 50 metres, but it was enough. Then, it's over. 107.1k, 18:38 hours, and 2 stuffed and sore bodies. We stop, I pull the phone out to turn off the app, glance over at Belle who has stopped her watch and then turns and gives me a look as if to say, "What the fuck...". The finish line video shows this little by-play.

Finish line video and that stare by Belle!
Video credit: Matt Veenstra
Finally, we see the finish area lights & hear the music & run the last 50m in. 18:38hrs & 108km later we are DONE. Legend Matty V is there to present us with our finishers haul…belt buckle, finishers towel, stubby holder & buff (extra goodies for extra kms is fair right?) Duncans’ mum Helen comes & gives us a hug…I in my delirium ask if we’re last, lol! No, still 5 people out there! Helen then gets us some soup which tastes like unicorn tears. We change out of our feral stinky gear (that towel came in handy creating a little “modesty” screen!) into some warm clothes. Thank God for Matt who is driving us back to Warragul. WE ARE SPENT.

Matt is there to present us with our finishers towel and buckle (tastefully wrapped in a stubby holder), a shake of the hand from Travis (RD) and Helen Orr came and gave us both a hug. First question Belle asks is, "are we last?". No, we aren't, still 5 others out on course. But there has been a reasonable DNF rate, a testament to this course and the day. My feet are killing me, I'm scared to take shoes off. A: the smell, B: to see what state they are actually in. The answer to both is the same, horrible. Thankfully we have arranged for Matt to drive us home, after a long day (few days) for him, we were and are still mightly grateful that he did this.

Drive home, get back there at about 2:00 am, I don't sleep until 3:00am, nearly a 24 hour day. And I don't surface until 11:30.

The Wash-Up

  • 100 is not an easy undertaking. Add in a serious bit of climbing, and the effort required increases significantly. Add in the extra unplanned and unknown distance, and the mental side takes a hammering.
  • Not preparing for a 100 shows up very quickly. Belle and I knew that long before race day.
  • We both have bucket loads of mental toughness.
  • 18 plus hours and we are both still talking to one another. And in spite of the tough day, I'm sure both of us wouldn't hesitate to front up again and support each other.
  • Belle has come up with a new term to describe the level of how shit things get in an ultra. 'From a scale of 1 to Duncans loop 3!"
  • As stupidly tough as that was, in the following days we both messaged each other and said pretty much the same thing, "So considering how long we took, and the fact that we are not dead, makes a miler look not so daunting...". We have both at various times said that if we talk about doing a miler, to slap each other. There is a reason that form of comedy is called slapstick.
  • A week and a half later, I can finally run again.
Reflecting on the race, it was brutal & certainly didn’t go to plan. Should I have done it so close to Hut2Hut? Probably not, but I did. And it ended up being the longest distance & time on my feet so far, which I guess is a pretty epic achievement. I couldn’t have got through it without Les and I’ll be forever grateful he stuck with me. And that tight calf? No injury, just a little old bacterial infection from the leech bites! Turns out you shouldn’t pull them off as they leave their mandible behind, causing said infection. Doc thinks poison travelled up to the lymph node behind my knee, causing my whole calf to swell. It took a week for the swelling to subside but I’m back running. 
ULTRA RUNNING IS FUN GUYS!!! AHA HA HA!!

The Rest of the Year

Puffing Billy
Some Trails+
Maybe Surf Coast Trail Marathon
Some Trail Running series
Wonderland 36
SCC 50 in a team relay
Melbourne Marathon (and probably a few road races leading up to focus on road running)

Until next time...
Baw Baw Runners group shot before the 21k race.
Photo credit: Carolyn Gilchrist.

Friday, 8 February 2019

Darling it Hurts

Panorama from our start line. Marions lookout is dead centre of the picture. Cradle Valley.

Cradle Mountain Run 2019

Where do I start with this run? So many stories within stories.
In the mid-2000’s I was running with a club in Launceston. One of the runners, a talented runner, but mid-pack would be descriptive of him (like me) would always regale us with tales of him competing in this thing called ‘The Cradle Mountain Run’.
Me: “So you have a run around Cradle Mountain, from Dove Lake perhaps?”
John: “No, the whole length of the Overland Track”
Me: “You f%$&(*@ what?
Then I’d walk away shaking my head.
At that time, as a 5k to 21k runner (road); that distance, on a trail, was inconceivable. But it must have set my mind wondering. Roll forward a decade and in the midst of an ongoing litany of injuries I heard of another friend running at Cradle, and the seed firmly planted in my head.
Never told anyone at the time, not even my wife (Nicky). I needed to just get through rehab, get running again and see how I was in a years time. After the final injury in late 2016, I quietly decided to target Cradle as my long term goal. A couple of reasons. Having lived in Tassie I had walked sections of the track with Nicky, knew the beauty of the area, the stunning vistas, and probably not realising at the time, the difficulty of the track. Also, having transitioned to trail running in the last 6 years, it seemed to be the perfect event to aim for.

Capped to 60 runners (Parks and Wildlife set the cap), and proudly retaining its status as a run (not a race; no sponsorship, no razzmatazz, no gaudy bling, not even an event t-shirt), this is a much sought after entry. It sells out in around 4 to 5 minutes after entries open, the adrenaline rush of the entry night overshadowing any adrenaline felt on the day! I am reliably informed that I was in the top 10 to enter, a speed never to replicated in any event, ever… It is self-supported, no aid stations, you carry all your food, water (fill up where possible), and mandatory gear in case of an emergency. Cradle is quite possibly the oldest Ultra in Australia, kicking off in 1981 after a couple of local Tasmanian runners decided to find out what it would be like to traverse the Overland Track in one day. 39 events later it holds a special place in many an ultra-runners heart as a wish list item. It is special because of its beauty, the community feel of the event, the friendliness of the runners and vollies, and its remoteness. And it’s hard to get into…

The Lead Up

Training was going well through November and December. As noted previously in Two Bays account, a cold flattened me at New Years. The subsequent recovery, then the vain attempt to finish the race, meant that I had a sudden loss of confidence and a question mark over my fitness and possibly health. 3 weeks between Two Bays and Cradle meant that making up for lost time was out, and ticking over to make sure I was rested was the only option. In the fortnight leading up to the run I was also conscious of the fact that apart from the 28k at Two Bays, my last long run was 100k at Surf Coast in September. Was I going to have enough endurance in the legs come Saturday?

Monday of run week was a public holiday. I took my local running group on the 14k course I’m helping to organise for a local run in Rokeby. It also served as a test with the new vest and full mandatory gear packed to simulate my run. It felt a bit heavy and unwieldy, but only one soft flask bottle in the front meant it wasn’t at it’s heaviest, but it was also a bit unbalanced. I hoped it would feel better on the day.

The start of this week also marked a rise in anxiety about this run. Unusual for me for a trail run. Normally fairly calm and only get the jitters on the morning, probably just wanting to start and get it done. But this was pushing myself out of my comfort zone, running into an area genuinely remote. (Between Pelion Hut and Narcissus there is no other way out except by helicopter). I voiced my fears to a few close friends and Nicky. All assured me I’d be fine. Wish I had their confidence!

The Weekend Commences

Thursday: Fly from Melbourne to Launceston and stay with a friend, Peter Johnson. Flight delays meant I arrived an hour later, justifying my reasons for not flying in on Friday morning. Having lived in Lonnie, I knew the issues that flights had coming in and out of the state. Settled into bed after Peter and I had caught up and discussed the run at length. I had a lot of information swirling around in my head, but thankfully a clear plan. One I intended to stick to, no matter what.

Friday: A bus was organised to take us to Cradle Mountain and our accommodation. Leaving at 12, but mandatory gear check started at 11. I was almost the first one there. #eager Only thing missing was lighter (or matches). Ducked over to Coles and grabbed some bananas, lighter and various other food items for breakfast on Saturday. One by one other runners and run organisers turned up until there was quite a crew on the grass at Brickfields. Meet fellow VUR’s there; Gabor, Kez, Siqi, Kath and Andy. Kath and Andy are long term veterans of this run, combined finishes either 11 or 12 (Andy not too sure on his number of finishes). 12 o’clock we boarded the bus and set off for Cradle, one stop in Sheffield for a leg stretch and grab a bite to eat. I sat by myself and watched the countryside go by, reminiscing about living here 5 years ago. I miss Tassie, but circumstances mean Victoria is our home. And I don’t regret that, having met some wonderful people there. Best of both worlds Possibly…
The start. Boardwalk, which is narrow
and single file only.

Sheffield, and the cafe has no sandwiches left. So pastie and a large coffee it was! Usually a bit more particular with my food before an event, I just wanted calories and heaps of them. I got it, that slightly overfull feeling when back on the bus, on that windy road, all the way to Cradle.
Arrived safely (guts intact…) and we transfer our bags from the large bus to 2 smaller 22-seater buses with trailers that would be our transport within the park here. We were allocated rooms at Waldheim and I was to be sharing with Andy Hewat and another runner Lachlan, whom neither of us had met. The first thing we all do is unpack our bags and start sorting gear out for the run.
Mandatory gear list was the following;
2 thermal tops,
1 thermal long johns,
1 rain jacket,
1 overpants,
1 beanie,
Gloves,
Lighter or matches,
Map of the Overland Track (1:100,000)
Compass with dial size minimum of 40mm,
Emergency bivvy bag, and
Emergency food to 1800 kilo-joules. In my case a 200g block of dark chocolate. Others used 120g of Macadamias.
In addition were food and drink for the run, phone if you wanted to take photos and any other items you deemed ‘necessary’.

All clothes in dry bags, or snap-lock bags to keep them dry. Useless if wet and you are putting them on when you’re cold. Food in bags and stowed in the main pocket, gels in the side pockets, clothes in the bottom pouch, and soft flasks of Vfuel and water in front with phone and bag of food (chopped up Clif Bar). It all looked a bit huge. Andy, Lachlan and I comparing packs, amount of gear, fuelling strategies etc. I reckon for 60 runners, 60 different approaches.

Late afternoon sun on the pandani. Cradle Valley.

At 5 the buses turn up to take us back to the resort at Cradle for run brief and if anyone wants to eat at the bistro. Run brief was informative, but nothing out of the ordinary. It’s all common sense, but nice to have it fresh in our minds. Always part of this run is an address by a PWS ranger about looking after the park, no littering etc. And of course discussion about fires, and snakes. Always snakes, just to put the wind up some people! Around 6:30 we returned to the huts to prepare for a night of interrupted sleep, as is the norm before an event. A few of us strolled down to the start line to survey the boardwalk, Marions (our first and steepest climb) looming out of the late afternoon light. The chat was lighthearted, a bit of banter, we were all probably a bit hyper with excitement.

Saturday: Alarm goes off at 4 after my estimated 4 hours of disturbed sleep. I’d left the phone on charge on the other side of the room, so it was a comical dismount from the bed trying to stay reasonably quiet, whilst banging my knee on the bunk stairs and muttering “fuck” under my breath. Eventually turned off the alarm, fired up the head torch and set about getting breakfast. Pitch black outside, and cool. Thermal on at the start seemed to be my thinking. Lachlan got up at 4:30, Andy at 5. By then there is also a bit of movement from the other huts. Doors banging, last-minute trips to the toilet etc.

As with Two Bays, the queues were for the male toilets, being only a handful of women in the run.
After breakfast I climbed back into bed for 20 minutes, trying to calm down an already pumping HR. Anxiety, nothing else. Pack the bags then struggle with both of them down to put them on the bus, hoping that we will both be reunited (bags and me) at Lake St. Clair. I walk back to the start line, trying to recognise faces in the dull light. I’m aware of the feel of the pack on my shoulders and back. It is not overly heavy, water has helped it balance better than last Monday's trial. But there were a few lumps and bumps. Take it off, stuff hand in and move things around a bit, and that did the trick.
VUR at the start. L to R: Gabor, Kez, myself, Andy, Kath, Siqi and Sophie.
5:50am, 10 minutes to go, roll call and run brief. Runners are called out and ticked off. All 60 are present and ready to go, a cheer goes up. I grab my fellow VUR’s and we get a group photo, light still dark enough that we needed to use the flash. A minute is announced as we all start to line up in single file to hit the boardwalk at the start. Self-seeding here, in other words, if you’re slow, don’t go to the front. The start is on a narrow boardwalk, no passing until we get well on our way to Crater Lake. My plan for today was to start very conservatively. I needed to get into Pelion (33k) feeling like I had plenty left in the tank. If that meant being at the back for a fair portion of the start, so be it. Not looking back, I thought I was in about 50th place, Gabor standing right in front, giving a few words of encouragement/pep talk as the last 10 seconds were counted down.

Video of the start (Too big to embed in the blog).

Cradle to Windermere Hut.

We are off. First section downhill, trotting at the start and trying to ease into a pace. A volunteer is counting each runner to make sure all 60 start. Not sure he counted me as 54 or 55. But I thought, “Shit, if I don’t haul arse I’ll be chatting with the sweepers!” drop down, cross Ronney Creek and head further up the boardwalk towards Crater Lake. Lots of chat, the pace is slow because it is still very low light and none of us wants to go arse up this early. Plenty of time for stacks when we are fatigued to buggery. A wombat, startled by the thundering of shoes on the boardwalk scurries under it, back to safety. They can move quickly when they want to. Boardwalk ends, trail starts and the first section of rocks is encountered. It would get much worse later on. But there were some of us that thought this was easy, this wasn’t going to be as hard as we imagined. Some of us would learn that lesson the hard way in about 6 hours time…
On the way up to Marions Lookout. Stones on the ground pretty much the trail all the way up here.
Light is just getting a bit brighter when we enter the first section of the forest. Immediately dark as, again. Eyes adjust slowly, the pace slows a bit. Crater Falls is trickling with not much flow, then we climb s few steps exit the forest into button grass and the light is far brighter. A quick look towards the ridge we will run on in about 30 minutes reveals low cloud moving quickly, suggesting a bit of wind at our backs. Running in groups here, about 6 or 7 of us walk/run up to the turnoff to Marions. Phil Beeston is with us, I’ve known Phil on Instagram for a few years, but this weekend is the first time we’ve met. We are all chatting away before we hit the steep climb up Marions. For those who’ve never climbed up Marions, it has chains to hold onto. It’s a heart starter and a half. Top out and then a bit more climbing before we hit the section towards Kitchen Hut.
If anybody wants to know why sections of the track weren't exactly easy to run, Exhibit A.
Video credit: Phill Beeston.
This trail undulates gently and gives us our first bit of constant running. I’m at the head of a group of runners and slowly drift away from them. Partly because they were setting their pace, partly because I was in a bit of a hurry to get to the hut. Toilet there, and for some reason, despite going at 5:00 am, I now needed to go fairly urgently. And I mean urgently. Shit. Figuratively, shit… Turned towards Kitchen Hut and only needed to run about 300 metres before I saw the hut and the toilet just beyond it. There were campers there (not supposed to be), and sure enough, there was someone already in the toilet. Dance up and down like someone attempting Riverdance and watch a stream of runners go past. As is run etiquette, if you ever leave the trail, for whatever distance, you drop your pack beside it. That way the sweepers know to stop and wait (they must always be behind the last runner). Finally, the camper exits and says “good on ya mate” (presumably because I’m running in the event, not because I’m about to dump. But really, I don’t know…) I’m in and out in record time. 2 runners are standing at my pack, waving me on before them. The sweeps. Bugger, I’m dead last.

As we climb, we enter the low cloud sweeping across the valley.
No panic, we are only 5k in, still another 75k to rectify things. Although my brain at the time tried not to process it exactly like that. One of the sweeps had a familiar face. I’d seen him on the bus the day before and couldn’t put a name or context to the face. But out here, with the bulk of Cradle Mountain on our left, hidden behind a uniform grey cloud, I suddenly worked it out. Vaughan was a friend of a friend who we went whitewater paddling with 18 odd years ago when Nicky and I first moved to Tasmania. Small world, 2 degrees of separation etc.

Moving along this section towards Waterfall Valley Hut the path was a bit rocky, occasional root and overgrown so you had to be careful of footing. The wind is howling in places. It’s not cold when you’re running. But stop for a few minutes and the chill would go right through you. The reason we carry so much mandatory gear was very evident along here.

Following a few slower runners, Vaughan and Brad (the other sweep) still behind me I was content to bide my time. The occasional glance at the watch to check HR revealed still in the high 130’s, low 140’s. Perfect. It needs to stay this way until at least the 45k mark. If not a bit longer. Eventually, we start descending towards the hut at the waterfall and I feel I need to move past some runners. I’ve been nipping at the heels of one poor runner for about 15 minutes and am aware that it can cause pressure to build up and make them rush, resulting in an accident. Running around Cradle Cirque the wind was really gusting. Boardwalk is old and is 2 parallel planks of wood with a 30mm+ gap in between. Running is a bit awkward with the feet splayed out slightly, and balance is not quite right. A gust of wind nearly blows me off the boards onto the vegetation. I only just stay in control. Temperature is plummeting along here and I’m glad I still have the thermal on.

Coming in towards Waterfall Valley Hut are a number of steps going down, twisting and turning left and right. Another runner comes up behind me, calls herself through and we both end up running past the path entrance to the hut. 2 girls are there, clapping and giving us encouragement as we pass. They will be the first of many walkers we encounter, all courteous, all getting off the path to let us through and give us good wishes as we go past. In return, I always thanked each and everyone, no matter how I was feeling. We are all comrades on a journey, some slower and carrying heavier packs, some faster and carrying the bare minimum.

Away from Waterfall Valley Hut and the path climbs again. More boardwalk and I must say I was pleasantly surprised at this. Expecting far more sections of rough trail along here. I look back and see the campsite at Waterfall, probably 8 tents pitched there that I could see. By now the clouds are breaking up and the odd patch of blue can be seen. The temperature is still cool, but I’m just nice with the thermal on. Somewhere between Waterfall and Windermere, I stop to take off the gloves and stash them in the back pouch of the vest. I notice I haven’t drunk much water, and have only had 2 small pieces of Clif Bar. Now about 13k in and 2 hours, I decide I need to force a bit more food down. Hit a big debt in the next 2 hours and the last 30k will be horrendous.

A few of us have regrouped along here. It undulates, only the occasional steepish (relative to the rest, mind you) climb, but we are all hiking the climbs, running the downs and the flats. All is going well until a girl at the head of our group trips up on a rock and crashes to the ground. She is fine, shaken and probably more embarrassed than anything. She tells us to go on, so then there are 3 of us. The other 2 obviously know each other and are chatting away. I’m content to listen in and then throw my two bobs worth in at irregular intervals. Into another patch of forest, short and sweet, then exit onto more boardwalk and button grass plains. The first of a bunch of tarns is on our left, and before we know it we are descending towards Lake Windermere. It is a gentle descent, but we manage to trip and stumble a few times. Remind ourselves to pay more attention…

Windermere To Pelion Hut

Windemere Hut is the first one that, if not actually on the trail, is close enough to duck in quickly to grab water from the tanks. This was going to be an issue throughout the day, knowing when to stop and grab water, when to push on and hope there was reliable water further ahead. I was fine, so kept going. Noticed a pack on the sign to the toilets and thought to myself, “Sweeps will get you!”. Cloud now really starting to break up and the sun was poking through. The temperature rising and I’m still in my thermal. I stop to grab a gel from zip pocket on the left. Mini-disaster, zip breaks as I zip it back up. Shit, not what I need. I’m standing there with 3 gels in my hand as friend Lance rocks up behind me (his pack at Windermere). He stashes them for me in the pouch on my left and thankfully I was able to grab them throughout the day.

Hit the first really rocky section of track at about the 22k mark. Normally these either;
a. Shit me to tears,
b. Freak the living daylights out of me, or
c. All of the above.
But today I fell light-footed, confident and dance down as if I’m playing an extended game of hopscotch. Pass a runner who gleefully steps back telling me he is feeling like option b! I am feeling good, and the closer I get to Pelion Hut, the more I bury the doubts I had after Two Bays. This section continues a gradual descent towards the Forth River. It is really nothing more than a creek here, at its headwaters. But it is still flowing enough that I decided to stop and grab some water. By now I’m drinking a bit more and have emptied my single water flask at the 25k mark. In hindsight, I should have peeled my thermal off and stowed it away. I was warm and knew I had a bit of a climb out before we ran towards Pelion Hut, but thought I would stop properly and do it at the checkpoint there. Through here the occasional smell of Sarsparilla, the scent coming from groves of Sassafras trees. It's a most unusal smell to suddenly bi hit with in the Australian bush.

Panorama of Pelion Plains. On the left, Mount Oakleigh. Under cloud on the right, Mount Pelion West, and in the middle background is Mt Ossa.
The runner I passed on the rocky downhill runs over the bridge as I’m upstream collecting water. After I sort myself out and continue on it takes me a while before I glimpse him again through the trees. Away to my left is the bulk of Mount Oakleigh, and I know that Pelion is close, don’t need the distance on my watch to tell me. The final 2 k’s into Pelion roll along next to grassy plains and just before we got there I came right up behind the runner (who I now know was called Weston, we would cross paths several times today.) Hit the checkpoint, 33k in 4:58. probably my slowest ever time over that distance, but not because of lack of effort. I wasn’t a bit fatigued, but I knew I’d been working reasonably hard. Finally, stop and have my timing chip scanned and I stop to get the thermal off. By now it is really warming me up and is absolutely rank. The ranger is there chatting with the vollies, looks at my legs and goes, “Geez, you’ve got some pins!”. My first thought, “You’ve been stationed here a bit too long, sunshine!”. Unfortunately saying the word “legs” suddenly throws ZZ Tops - ‘She's Got Legs’ into the turntable of my mind. Oh great. I’d already seen off Billy Joels - ‘It’s Still Rock and Roll To Me’ and The Meanies - ‘10% Weird’ in the lead up to here, now as I climb towards Pelion Gap ‘She Got Legs’ swirls round and round and round my head…. But, not before I’d run 50 metres up the path and realised I’d left my sunnies on the camping platform. Run back, grab them then head up towards the gap.

Pelion to Windy Ridge Hut

I was back on familiar territory here having camped at Pelion and walked up Ossa with Nicky and Jordan the year before we moved to Victoria. But in my mind it was a short couple of k’s, then the steep climb, then the gap. What my mind refused to accept was that it went on for a lot longer than that. A long slow grinding climb that for the first time today did my head in. Crossed Pelion Creek, another runner grabbing water (you could from the Hut at Pelion, but it was a bit out of the way, many of us electing to push on to the creek.) I kept going, then finally hit the steep section. I was hiking up here, purposely I thought, chatting to a group of walkers, and noticed they were keeping pace with me. They were carrying packs, 15 to 20 kilos. That was not a good sign. When I hit the gap I stopped, took a few photos, grabbed another gel and then composed myself for the next section. Whatever I did it worked, the descent towards Kia Ora and onwards to Du Cane Hut was the best section for me for the whole day.
Du Cane Range as seen from the trail at 37k mark.
It was boardwalk and well-formed trail for good sections along here and I made good time, but better still felt really good. Stopped at a creek a few k’s after the gap as the water looked cool and inviting. Sun was well out now and warm when we were in the open. And here was where troubles later on, would start. Filled up my flask and then only a km later realised I was soaking wet down that side of the body. The nipple was leaking and I couldn’t work out how to stop it. Knowing that water was a premium along this section, I didn’t want to empty it, so I put up with it. Stopped again before Kia Ora to take a photo and realised the phone was a bit wet. Shit. Cleaned out the bag it was in, resealed the bag and continued on. The flask kept leaking. Normally I’d worry about chaffing, but now I was worried about the phone.

Stopped in at Kia Ora to refill a bottle and put more Vfuel in it. 2nd packet today, I had one left. A runner there I’d passed before here, and he was struggling a bit, but still pushing on. Later on, I’d find out he was a friend of a friend, Tassie again…. Pushing on after stopping here I was noticing the temperature was warming up, not hot, nowhere near it, but enough to let me know that water was going to be needed. Running was generally good along this section to Du Cane. A mixture of boardwalk and formed track, it felt either flat or slightly downhill. In and out of short forest sections, the occasional rustle in the bushes beside the track being either marsupial (not likely), bird (only possibly), or snake (most definitely). I got somewhat in the zone though, not really taking in the surroundings as much as concentrating on running to effort. Still keeping the HR in a respectable zone. Passed another runner casually squatting on a log on the side of the track, having a bite to eat as if it was picnic time. Enquired to his health and such, he was just fine. Needed to stop and eat.

Du Cane Hut. Just past the halfway point, and the warmest part
of the day.
At 6 hours 34 minutes and 41 kms in I hit Du Cane Hut. I must have still been in the zone as I sailed straight past the sign pointing to Windy Ridge (in my wafer-thin defence it didn’t say Overland Track, nor was it in good condition having been bleached in the sun for many a year) and continued on straight. Only about 50 odd metres down the track and it petered out. Turned around and met my picnicking friend standing at the sign asking which way. “Can you read the sign”, I ask.  “Yep, To Windy Ridge”, he says. A wry smile on my face I head down the correct track and hit the most beautiful forest. Tolkenesque was my best description. An abundance of moss on trees, dappled light struggling through the canopy, and the gnarliest tree roots covering the forest floor, and ultimately, the trail… It was tough going. The momentum gained from Kia Ora to Du Cane evaporated in a flash. I’d been guilty of looking at the watch thinking if I hit a few time marks I’d be in with a shot of a sub 13 time. Stop thinking crap was now my thoughts.

After about 10 minutes I spied another runner ahead through the forest. Running much like me; hit a good section and shuffle along, then walk the worst bits (a little too steep up or just too many ankle tripping tree roots). It took me about 1 and a half k’s to catch up with her. But as I caught her I decided not to overtake. Mainly to slow myself back a little bit (was getting a little out of control on this section chasing mythical split times), and partially as I thought the company would be good. I’d been running on my own practically since the 22k mark (now around 45k mark), and whilst I am content with my own company (Christ knows I need to be!) I felt like a friendly physical presence would be fine for a while. Her name was Carolyn and she was a runner from Launceston. I’d never met her, but the name was familiar from a few running forums I’m linked to. We chatted a little bit as we started the long slow gradual climb towards Windy Ridge (our last true climb for the day). But then run and walk for a distance before striking up a conversation again. In some way, it helped take the mind away from the task ahead, and made the time go quicker (just not our pace, unfortunately). More rough trail, although getting better the longer we ran on, and then a bunch of bushwalkers eating what we supposed was lunch off the side of a track to Hartnett Falls. They didn't even appear to register that we ran right past them.

Some old signs still exist on the track.
We knew the climb to Windy Ridge was on when the ascent suddenly increased and then the occasional section of boardwalk appeared. The forest opened out, drier more Eucalyptus than Fagus or Myrtle and the temp was now at it’s warmest of the day. As we climbed, a creek trickled tantalisingly close but camouflaged behind the dense undergrowth. I hoped we’d cross it soon, needed to refill the bottles and to wet my THIR around my neck to cool off. Turned a corner to see a runner walking, very slowly. In fact, he looked pretty crook. Stopped to talk to him, ask him how he was. Cooked, was the short reply. His name was Dan and he seemed determined to finish. “Get to Narcissus” was my advice, then he could decide what next. There was nowhere along here to get out, the only way is forward.

Carolyn and I continued on. I was behind her, but a few times she asked if I wanted to get past and run on. No, I was content to stay here and have the company. Very soon we had finished the climb and started the short descent to Windy Ridge. Nice to be going downhill, and on a gentle slope. But it is very rocky. The delicate ‘dancing down’ of about 25k ago long since lost with the growing fatigue in the legs. Still moving down at a steady pace, but slowing up rather than coming a cropper on the rocks. All was going well until we hit a section of track that suddenly turned hard right, went down steeply and turned hard left again. Carolyn was momentarily confused, the track appeared to go straight ahead. She stopped, then turned right, only to trip on a rock. It was one of those moments you play over and over in your head, could I have moved quicker to grab her? It was slow motion, it was over in the blink of an eye. Pitching forward on the steepest section she crashed down right on top of the rocks, right cheek taking the bulk of the impact. It was heart in the mouth stuff. She lay still for a second, a very long second I might add. Then moved to sit back up again. Thankfully not knocked out, but there was still the possibility of a concussion.  I immediately raced down beside her to check her out. It clearly had shaken her, tears were nearly close, but within a minute or 2 she’d composed herself and was ready to run on. I lead this time, and without further incident, we made it to Windy Ridge in 8 hours 24 (51k's).

Windy Ridge to Narcissus Hut

Timing chip checked again, we fill water bottles at the tank, and head off towards Narcissus. Trail more open, still rough in places, rocks, tree roots etc. Several snakes scatter quickly out of our way, we slow down to give them room to move, and our HR time to recover! We run another couple of k’s along here, the Traveller Range high on our left, The Acropolis and The Parthenon away to our right. This results in a very hot valley to run through. Not a hot day, considering recent weather, but it is still warm enough we are aware of our need to keep the water up. Carolyn stops at a creek to get more water, and I stand for a minute, then keep on running. And this will bug me for a long time to come, but I never told her I was going to do that. Just head off. There was no agreement to keep together, no understanding that we were looking out for each other, but I should have said something, anything. And probably karma, but 2 k down the road I stack, very heavily. Right foot trips on a rock as it trails through and I don’t get the left foot down quickly enough. As with Carolyn, slow motion and lightning quick at the same time. One second I’m upright, next I’m horizontal staring at the dirt and grimacing at the pain in my ribs and knees. Elbows took a lot of the impact, saving the rib from a tree root, but the risk of popping a shoulder is off the charts.

The picturesque run into Narcissus with Mt Olympus as a backdrop. The runner is VUR, Kex McT
Video credit: Phil Beeston.

The suspension bridge at Narcissus River. Get here and you know
the checkpoint is a few k's away
And definitely my own fault. I’d started doing mental calculations re getting into Narcissus (pretty much guaranteed to be completely wrong, mid-ultra) under 10 hours and that would give me a shout of sub 13. As I picked myself up, I uttered a few chosen oaths to the surrounding countryside, then told myself to calm the fuck down, just get into the next checkpoint in one piece.  Ran on again, keeping a keen eye on any tripping hazards as the path flattened out and then the boardwalk started, a sure sign I was getting close to Narcissus. The last km before the suspension bridge over Narcissus River is flat and winds through button grass and sedge. It is warm, but the sun is now passed the highest point in the sky. Hit the bridge, stop for the obligatory bridge shot, and a selfie and then run in the last k to the checkpoint. (Not before seeing a woman step out around a corner and grab a few photos as I ran past. And I was running here, thankfully). And then, almost out of nowhere, Narcissus Hut appears and the 62k checkpoint.

Narcissus to Cynthia Bay, and the finish.

It was Marsh fly heaven (or nightmare). Buggers were swarming (like flies?), and getting into the food and under the skin of the vollies. Served with coke and watermelon, never having tasted soooo good. Refilled my water bottles, ate more watermelon and drank more coke, then headed out to complete the last 18k. I was an hour inside cutoff, plenty of time to finish, but in the grey area of whether sub 13 was achievable. At this point, stepping away from the checkpoint, I felt confident I could do it. Later on, I would understand why 3 hours for 18k along here is quite good going. A small section of boardwalk before the path turns south to head down the western side of Lake St. Clair, then back into the dark and cooler forest. And though this track (and all of the Overland Track for that matter) was very dry this year, this section of trail was going to be difficult. There is a reason most walkers just catch the ferry from Narcissus rather than walk the final 18k!

Only a few minutes into the forest and I spy a couple of runners ahead. Andy Hewat, my roommate at Waldheim, and another runner Paul from Sydney. Andy waved me passed as soon as I caught him, he’d decided he’d raced enough and was saving his legs for a race in WA in a few weeks time. A lazy 360k run on the Bibblimum Track in the south-west! Ran with Paul for a while, chatting about our respective race day experiences so far, chatting about the pros and cons of living and working where we did etc. Was nice to while away the time in this twisting and turning sod of a path. Then Paul suddenly stopped and pointed to track left, a snake. A rather large jet black one! No stripes, so the assumption was a copperhead. But never seen any that big in Tassie. Immediately after that, we both blundered off course. Trail in the gloam was indistinct and we had mistaken a bunch of tree roots in one direction as the ‘official’ bunch of tree roots that was the trail. Started to backtrack only to bump into Andy who spotted a trail marker and off we went again.

As hard and crappy as this section can be, it had some lovely paths
and forest. Lake St. Clair, 68k mark.
At the 66k mark, a sparrows fart under 11 hours, my watch beeped for low battery. I knew this was going to happen, so had packed a power pack to recharge it. I stopped, Paul telling me to catch up with him, and off he went. I didn’t take too long to get the charger out, connect it and start moving again. But in the interim, Andy passed me, and another runner, Weston, who’d I’d first encountered at Pelion. Not having anyone to run with, and lacking any energy to ‘run hard for a short bit’, I lost the mental battle to push hard, and found myself walking a lot more than I should have. But, quite frankly, I was completely stuffed. I was also wondering where the hell Echo Point was. In my vague and failing memory, I thought it was about 3k from Narcissus. Wrong. Later on worked out it is about 5k. And still, this trail continued to give and give. Give me the shits, give me hell, give me the feeling I was going to be out in the dark. I really got into a bit of a hole along here.

Passed Andy again. He had his poles out and was walking along, then using the poles to massage his quads. Nobody, I repeat nobody was going anywhere near my quads, or hammies, or anything from the waist down. It all hurt. Was hoping it would just go numb and be done with it. Got to Echo Point, stood dumbfounded at a sign that just said ‘Toilet’ until a girl in a tent said, “Yep, that’s the way. And good luck, you’re looking good!”. Nice sentiment, but she could lie for Australia. Just past Echo Point was a creek. I stopped to refill my bottle and drape the THIR in the water again. Glad I did, there was no more water to be found until a few k’s out from the finish. Along here I started to do some mental calculations again; based on current distance and overall time, current pace, trail condition, something about the angle of the sun, something else about the hypotenuse of a triangle, more shit about the probability of teenagers doing Morris Dancing… Yeah, my brain was about 30 seconds to 2 years behind reality and I was struggling to work out basic math. Somehow, from the dark vortex of my brain, I reckoned I was good for 13:30. Fuck it, I thought, just keep moving.

Kez and I at the finish, proudly sporting our VUR shirts.
Photo credit: Kez McT
And move I did. It was essentially run anything that I was able to. Downhill was 50/50, depending on rocks and tree roots. Flat the same. Uphill was only achievable if I’d been running downhill and momentum took me part way back up (and zero rocks and tree roots!). Sections of forest were quite dark, no doubt the shadow of surrounding hills playing a part, but my mind would think it was actually getting late. Then I’d see the lake and know there was still plenty of daylight. Tripped a few times along here but managed to stay upright and not spasm the hammy into a massive cramp. Another look at the watch, another fruitless mid-ultra calculation. Give up son, just move forward.

Then I noticed the track surface was better, more light through the trees and changing flora. Turn off to Playtipus Bay appears, and I know I’m around 4 odd k to the finish. The track flattens out, but I’m really only good for about 100 metres of running, then a walk break, then another 100 metres of running. The first signs to Watersmeet appear and I pick up my pace, somewhat. Hit Watersmeet and know it’s only 1.5k to the finish. But the trail just seemed to go on and on and on. Every corner a bit hopeful of a glimpse of the finish line, each corner just showing my trail. A bit of a hill, a cleared area, another corner, another brief flash of disappointment. And then sweet relief, veering left I spied a green hut, interpretation signs, a line of witches hats and then the 2 finish flags. About 2 dozen people, runners, vollies, friends of both are there as I run the final 50 metres to cross the line. My timing chip is scanned. It’s over. I feel the usual mixture of emotions; relief, happiness, and a sense of achievement. Friend Kez is there having finished about 40 minutes before me. Great to see her, she grabs me a can of Solo from the esky, and I smash it down, doing justice to an advert from my youth. And I am utterly spent.
And... finished. With that look that conveys a thousand emotions, most of them thank F...
Video credit: Phil Beeston.

Aftermath

Went in with a slight tear in the upper
fabric. End result: The Last Race...
It didn’t take me long after the run the realise what I had done was of so much significance to me as a runner. I entered knowing it was going to push me out of my comfort zone, and it did. But I survived, I had fun for the most part, but more than that I proved that I could set my mind to a task and get it done.

Already talking about going back. Not sure I ever said this was a one and only, or it would be an ongoing event for years to come. But not just the race, but the entire weekend captivated me. And the plan is to go back, this time armed with the knowledge of how I need to train, and what I need to train on trail wise to better this result.

Postscript: Met Carolyn back at Derwent Bridge Hotel after she'd finished. She gave me a big hug as I tried to explain that I should have told her that I was continuing on. She immediately told me it was okay. And I'm glad that she felt that way. But still it bugs me, I'm not like that.

Next race, Duncans Run. 100k with 4000m of vertical elevation. 7 weeks after Cradle. Just enough time to recover, briefly train then taper again.

Until next time...

The Devil is in the Details

The road at the start of day 3 for Malbunka runners. We are heading towards that notch in photo centre But Why... It starts like this as a p...