Interia Creeps

Run Larapinta - 4-day multi-stage race.

Stage 3

Race start, day 3. At the start of a 14k flat gravel road, everyone getting ready as the sun rises. 

Day 3, 2 down, 2 to go. Wasn't sure how I was going to pull up after yesterday's fun in the sun*, but after the obligatory stiff-legged crawl out of bed and the walk from my motel to the bus pick-up, I was moving reasonably well. For a walk, I might add. Running might be another issue. Nicky was running again today, so we were both up at 5:00am, gear packed, breakfast downed and ready to go for our buses. Walking down towards Crowne Plaza (our bus pick-up point), Nicky realised she was cutting it fine, and the buses don't wait around for stragglers.

"What should I do?"
"Run", was my droll reply.

Our first 14k, this road to Birthday Waterhole. Flat and cruisy!

And run she did, made it with a minute or so to spare. Nothing like a bit of pre-race stress.

Boarding my bus, and glad to see Andrew has made it after saying he'd give serious considerations to backing up after yesterday's nightmare. Today we were going to finish at the same place as yesterday, but running from the opposite direction. The bus trip taking a little bit more, allowed a few conversations to pick up, mostly about how frigging hard day 2 was!

Our bus must have engaged warp speed, as we arrived at our start way earlier than expected. The short course runners were ahead of us, using the portaloos before they were driven 10k down the road to their start line. Being a new stage for this event (covid related issues meant a change for days 3 and 4), the timings were still a bit unknown, so Sam had to hold us back for a few minutes.

He made it!

Eventually, we were able to use the conveniences and start getting ready. So early were we, that around 7:10 Sam decided that we may as well go early (our programme said 7:30 start). That all sounded good, but I was still standing in line for the toilet. Sam called out if we were all ready, everyone was, and I was too scared to yell out, "Noooooo". 😒
So, a 7:15 start it was. Somehow found myself seeded a bit high at the start, headed off at a reasonable clip, and then found myself chugging along at 6-minute pace. 
It was flat, the occasional sandy section (Margaret River Ultra flashbacks notwithstanding), but aside from a few corrugations, it was pretty much like an extended parkrun. And considering yesterday's reference point, anything like this was a welcome change. And it was great to stretch out the legs, let them actually run for a change.

14k of glorious flat road to start day 3.
Photo credit: http://themattimage.com

It was so easy, it took us 3k for the field to thin right out, no single trail to bottleneck the field and hold some back. I was feeling quite good, not super fast, but able to hold a nice comfortable pace without taxing myself. And I was utterly surprised, thought I'd dipped too far into the well of energy yesterday to have a huge amount left for today. Yet, here I was!

Passed through 5k mark in 29 minutes, 10k in 1 hour 1 minute and 14k to the waterhole in 1:30. Can't get more consistent than that. 

The aid station was reasonably quiet when I got there, but within a minute a whole stream of runners came in behind me, many of them friends. Realising that I needed to get out of the way, I hurried up filling flasks and bladder. We were required to take a minimum of 2 litres from this checkpoint, and given my issues yesterday, not wanting a repeat episode of dehydration, I had filled my bladder up and was sliding the clip on. Must have rushed it too much, had it on an angle. It wouldn't close properly. Trying not to make matters worse, I tried to pull it back off, but wet slippery hands made it impossible. In desperation, I jammed it on even harder (relegating it into the "deal with it later" basket). At least it sealed, but good luck getting it off to fill it up tomorrow...

Headed off around the side of the waterhole. We'd been told that we'd have to wade across (decisions about shoes on, shoes off, etc.), but race crew had found a way for us to navigate around it. 15k mark, another dry creek bed. Loose stone and gravel, not easy to run in, so I decided to just walk this section, save the energy. Sun had really started to warm us up, it had started to get a bit toasty on the open road before the waterhole, no shade and the longest continuous run for most of us this event.

Along here, Aaron caught up with me. He had been in a pretty bad way when my group caught up with him yesterday, 6 or so ks to go to the finish. Today, much better and he was content to stick with me for a bit as we approached the climb. Once off the creek, it was a lovely trail through Casuarina and a few open grasslands. The trail twisted and turned so much it was once again hard to get into a rhythm. Aaron and I were having a few chats; racing, yesterdays nightmare (😁), how we are feeling today etc. It made the travelling go quicker. We walked/ran where we could, another few sections of the trail being totally overgrown with grass. Aaron managing to trip on a hidden tree root, no damage, but a timely reminder to be careful. Along here I repeated what had started for me yesterday; having rocks flip up into my ankle. 3k into yesterday, I stood on a rock that I thought was stable (it wasn't), and it rolled sideways and flipped up onto my ankle, hitting right on the nerve. My foot went numb for a minute or 2, I couldn't run, barely walk. But eventually, it came good, although a dull ache persisted all day. Today I managed to do it again. Didn't hit the nerve, but slap bang on the point where it still hurt. 

A few times we nearly lost the path, around about the same time we started catching up with the short course runners. They had been driven up to the 10k mark on the road we ran and commenced their race from there. Also starting early, we might actually get an afternoon to relax today. 19k mark was where today started to get a bit real. The major climb of the day. It wasn't going to be as tough as the previous day, but given cumulative fatigue, it was still going to ask serious questions.

Not as steep, nor quite as technical, it still slowed us right up as we hiked up the zig-zags. Aaron still behind me, the both of us occasionally stopping to take photos. The early climbing is not too bad, you can hike quite easily, admire the views and encourage other competitors around us.

Look closely at the patch of green in the centre of the photo, it is the middle of the forest with the dry creek bed we'd climbed up, 4k previously.

Halfway up the first climb, I passed Jason again. Moving up, but slowly, deliberately. He was fine, just not moving as fast as I was. I wondered if I was burning fuel tickets moving at this pace, but it felt comfortable and controlled. Just keep moving, don't overthink it.

21k and 2:50 hours in we topped out on the first part of the climb. I say the first part, as it dropped down, wound around, then appeared to just head up over the next ridge. Ran and trotted down the path, hit the bottom then started the steeper climb up. This was the real scramble, reminiscent of yesterday in the last 5k before Standley Chasm. I must admit, I hadn't studied the course profile as keenly as previous days, so I thought it was all over when levelled out on to a saddle with some outstanding views. But, to our left, climbing up was the inevitable conga line of runners. And it was pretty much straight up, not a great deal of contour line hugging going on. Aaron and I grabbed some photos, then pushed on. 

Just about at the top of the climb, the real peak, not the one I thought was the top.

Now it was getting tough, the legs burning, the energy starting to wane. I grabbed another gel to get down, hoping the effects kicked in before I finished climbing (dumb waste of another gel otherwise). Halfway up this section, I bumped into Nicky, she was going well, happy and still smiling. A quick hug and a kiss on the way past, it was lovely seeing her, gave me a boost.

Aaron in front of me on the ridgeline as we headed along before descending.
The 'trail' is basically the guts of the ridge.

 

 

 

 

Finally after over an hour of climbing, we hit the peak, I stopped for a few photos, a drink and a bite to eat. Aaron pushed on and very quickly got ahead of me as we started the run along the section of the ridgeline. And it was a rough and ready trail, loose rocks, every one a potential rolled ankle or trip hazard. A cool wind was blowing, making running comfortable, but UV was blasting down. Not the place to hang around.

Most of this section, back on my own again, slowly descending off the ridge, trying to spy where the trail was heading next. It wasn't very obvious. If anyone was to ask me, I would have waved a hand vaguely in the direction of north and say, "Over there, somewhere.". I was not entirely confident 😀

Nicky doing the short course.
Photo credit: http://themattimage.com

Although not moving as quickly as I'd like, I spotted a few runners ahead on the trail, bright coloured shirts standing out against the reds of the surrounding hills. Very slowly I gained on them, which gave me a bit of a boost that I was travelling okay.  Managed to flip yet another rock onto my ankle. Couldn't do it if I tried, but out here, seems to happen with monotonous regularity.

Around the 25k mark, I caught one of the runners, it was my friend, Andrew. Not liking the technical running on the rocks and stones. Unspoken, but we stick together as the path meanders around, heads down on its long slow descent to the finish line. From the peak down to about 3k out, it was like this; exposed, rocky, mostly descending, occasionally a tight sharp climb. there was a bit of running, mainly shuffling, but any climb up was a walk/hike. I was still moving okay, but most of my running was done for the day.

And around here something happened that no runner wants to go through a mid-trail run in a remote area. No, not a fall, nor sickness, not even dehydration. It was the dreaded song stuck in the head on constant rotation. I'd survived 14+ hours so far without the delights of a one-hit-wonder, or shit song from my distant past... But now, as I climbed a short little stretch, Billy Joel's - Uptown Girl sprang into life, and simply refused to bugger off. All I can think of, Uptown was a reference to climbing, going up. I don't know, it just bloody stuck there. Tried valiantly to clear it with another song, Happy Mondays - Kinky Afro seemed to do the trick until I started questioning the lyrics. Then "Uptown girl, She's been living in her uptown world" just smoothly cruised back in. The horror, the absolute horror.

Andrew and I posing for the photographer. This was the view for most of our ridgeline descent.
Photo credit: http://themattimage.com

I battled on, gamely. 

There were a number of hiking groups heading in the opposite direction all day, they are amazed at us, we are amazed back carrying all that weight on this uneven ground must be hard. Now, 5k out from the finish, there are hiking groups heading in the same direction and they are more than happy to step aside and let us pass. It was where we came across Matt, the photographer. He took a few pics, we posed for a few and he told us that it was all downhill from here (where have we heard that before, kiddies!) and it was pretty much 5k. Well, that was news to me. The stage had been advertised as 31k. When I mapped it on Garmin, it came to 32, 5k from here meant 33k. probably splitting hairs, 1k over is within the unofficial guidelines for a trail run, but mentally I didn't need any more setbacks.

Panorama of just some of the spectacular scenery from today

Andrew agreed that 5k would mean 33k. So be it. One final tough little climb up, and then it really was downhill. A race official, the same one as yesterday, was camped at the top of this section with emergency water. I still had enough to keep going, so did Andrew and we headed down. 

Running downhill was slow, the path was better, but the legs no longer wanting to do anything other than walk. A section further down was not steep, so I was able to run down steadily. Heard footsteps behind me, thinking Andrew was happy to push on I stepped aside to let him through. Except it was someone else. 2 guys, Martin and Pat. Both in my age group, and I'd been shadowing them since day 1. A minute on day 1, 3 on day 2. I thought I'd got them today, only for them to gun me down 2k out. I had to laugh. I wasn't really racing, but it was nice to be competitive.

A few other runners came past, just as we hit the final stretch, the almost mandatory dry creek bed. Fuck me laughing, I stood there, hands on hips, and stared down the creek bed, the dry and tricky creek bed. Another female runner ahead was struggling with the trail, but essentially it was just follow the creek down. For some reason, I thought it was straight down this to the finish.

And as I looked ahead, the runner in front turns left and heads up a hill. It's not quite the twin peaks of yesterday, but it seems the only way to get into Standley Chasm is over a climb. Andrew and I, resigned to one last climb, trudge up. Spectator playing music, giving us a razz, "c'mon guys, nearly there", we get to the top, and thankfully spy the cafe and car park ahead of us. 

32. 6k, 5 hours 19 later we crossed that finish line. Whilst nowhere near as difficult as day 2, day 3 still had its challenges. 

Nothing like a finish line photo, full celebratory pose!
Photo credit: http://themattimage.com

The Washup

It probably says something about the mind that we can look at a 32k, 900-metre elevation gain on tough technical terrain and say it was easy. In fairness to us all, the reference point/low bar set yesterday meaning anything looked good. I said to Sam Maffet as I crossed the line that I felt I fought the trail all the way on day 2. Today there was much less of that and a feeling that having survived 3 days, the final day was within our grasp.

Coffee, a vege burger (sure I ordered a bacon and egg roll, but vege burger it was), and waited for Nicky to cross the line. She did, utterly stuffed, but happy with her efforts, and even happier she wasn't running again tomorrow. Only us stoopid idiots...

* Irony, massive irony

Stage 4

Just over a kilometre into the race, runners stringing out on the single trail already.
Photo credit: http://themattimage.com

One final time, drag the body out of bed, breakfast, gear ready, and off I go. Nicky has volunteered again today, she left at 5 to help set up, so I was pottering around for a while before I thought I'd better get moving and walk down to the bus. As it was, the bus I was taking drove past my motel, picked myself and another runner up, and took us straight to Crowne, 15 minutes early! It was a long drive out to the start point, and our latest race start at 8:00am. The start point was the Ochre Pits. Ochre was used by Aboriginals for face painting and ceremonial purposes. I couldn't see the pits from here, but once we climbed I could.

Selfie with Duncan and Em before the start. 

The usual chit-chat, people queueing for the 1 of only 2 toilets and last-minute slathering on of sunscreen. I'd caught a bit of the sun on day 2, and day 3 only made things a little worse, my face and neck copping most of the sun. Emptied half a container onto me. Race official came round with more and I couldn't even hold the container, so slippery were my hands 😂 Last minute instructions from John Jacoby, and then we assembled on the start line (looked suspiciously like a dry creek bed to me, might have been mistaken, then again there are a few around here!)

At the start line. Note how 'stable' the surface looks. Maybe
it's another dry creek bed?😉
The photo was taken by Kylie Carmichael.

Right on 8:00am we were off. And it was a bit of a rough start, single trail, rocky as shit, and not many opportunities to pass slower runners as we immediately climbed over a small hill. Not wanting to tax the cardio this early, I held back and got caught in a long line of slow runners. Bided my time for about 5 minutes until I lost it, and overtook a group on a particularly rough section of trail. Once I was able to set my own pace, I settled down and ended up in a group of 5 or 6 runners. It wasn't easy along here, none of this flat 14k gravel road, it was rocks and stones and steps and none of it flat. 

And once again, Aaron settled in behind me, using me as the early pacesetter. I was behind Pat and Martin again, shadowing, waiting to pounce. Not really, but they were mirroring my start style; run the flats and downs, hike the climbs. It's a conservative way to start a long-distance race, and especially here where it's such a rough trail, you expend energy just negotiating the rocks. There had been a funny story at one of the awards nights about 2 runners who had an agreement that if one of them tripped and fell, it was a slab for the other. So the story goes, 1 of them actually tripped, fell over but planted both hands down, and held it in a plank position, the chest mere centimeters off the ground! I was reminded of this as I tripped along here, my arms pin-wheeling around as I took several steps with my body at a 45 degree angle, expecting to face plant any second. It was the fear of shouting a slab to at least 5 others that kept me upright 😏

Our first aid station was only 6k in. Most of us barely touching water or food before arriving here. Nicky was volunteering, helping to tick off bib numbers of runners passing through (safety to make sure no one left out on the course), and the large groups of runners made it chaotic at best. A quick bite to eat, a hurried hello to Nic, and off I went. (Later on, she told me runners were asking for Tailwind and were bitterly disappointed when told they didn't have any!) Through some more Casaurinia forest before we met a race official who had some Coke and cups, offering us some before the climb. I was feeling a bit flat, so grabbed half a cup and took some with a gel. It did the trick, caffeine and gel kicked in just as the climb started to get some steepness to it. A few of the group who I'd been with had got ahead when I stopped, but slowly I picked them off one-by-one on the way up. The climb was the easiest of the 3 days, short and gentle. About 1 hour 50 in, I hit the top before the short trek up to Counts Point, the lookout where we were to get our bib numbers checked off, again.

But the trek to the lookout was once again on a very rough track, you almost had to hop from one rock to another if you wanted to do anything other than walk. I was keen to keep moving at pace, so rock hopping I went. Probably not the most energy-efficient forward motion, but to hell with it, I felt good and the day was still young. Was good here, seeing the runners ahead of you coming back down, everyone giving a cheer and encouragement to everyone else. Heaps of camaraderie on the trail, we may have been racing one another, but the general vibe was we always look after each other.

Counts Point lookout. Very much a wow factor moment, seeing that view as we approached it.
Photo credit: http://themattimage.com

Counts Point had the most stunning views (see pic above). A quick stop, a photo was taken, and then I headed back down the way I'd come, spotting all the runners behind me. 7 minutes for 700 metres back down to the trail I'd climbed (and it was a descent) gave an indication of the trail surface condition. From the peak, until we got off the ridge, was about 4k and no issues with working out where the trail went, just follow the ridgeline. But, like the trail to the lookout, it was rough and tricky with the occasional easy section that could be run. I was feeling good, so kept moving as quickly as I could over this terrain (truth be told, just wanted to get off this section). 

This literally was the 'trail' along the ridgeline. In other words,
"Runnable, quite runnable if you're nimble on your feet" 😂
Photo credit: http://themattimage.com

A few other runners were not so confident, or not having the same energy and they let past as I came by. Once again, came across Andrew, also picking his way over the rough terrain. Not a lover of the more technical sections, today he wouldn't be sticking with me (well not at the moment) and I continued on, spying a group of 4 ahead of me.

17k mark (exactly on my watch) marked where the descent proper from the ridge started. Fairly gentle and winding around, you could go down at a slow jog, every now and then having to stop after the inevitable half-trip/stumble. Regain confidence, start jogging again. Caught the group in front, by now just 3, and it's Darian, Matt, and Mark. Mark is vying for a podium in my age group and pushing along nicely to hold his overall placing. By now, passing the back end of the short course runners, the 4 of us are moving down at a safe, steady pace, knowing full well, even after the next aid station, it is at least 12 to 13k to the end. Halfway down the descent, and it steepens up dramatically. On one of the steps down, I half trip, flailing arms and nearly, just nearly faceplant. So close. Mark has a quick look around and checks on me. I'm fine, but the heart rate has hit the roof...

On the gentle section of the descent. In front of me, Mark, Darian 
and Matt. runner in black had just flown past us.

The descent is just under 2 and a half k, and the further we drop, the warmer it starts to get. No longer a breeze to cool us, the heat slowly rises the longer we are in the open.  The last k and a bit in has a few good sections we can run, Matt out the front dictating pace. We'd hike the climbs but run everything else. Not far out from the aid station, a runner comes up behind us, fast, and puffing hard from the exertion. She tucks in behind us for a bit, then next climb that we hike, she runs past, but working really hard. If she keeps that up, she'll smash out a great time. Or go bust very quickly. It's a massive gamble, this far out. 

Aid station at 20k, Serpentine Gorge. There isn't much here, except the aid and vollies. Once again, Kylie is here, a welcome sight on this long hot day. Another volunteer here spies my hat and asks if I was one of the volunteers from Hut 2 Hut. Even out here, that race has notoriety! Fill up on cake, Coke, grab some Hydralite and put in my flask, and make sure they are filled up for what looks like 13k to the finish.

Kylie volunteered all but 1 day of the event. An Alice
Springs local, she was cheerful and bubbly every time
we saw her on course.
Photo credit: http://themattimage.com

 I'm feeling okay, good to get in here, but knowing how far to go with the heat rising somewhat, I was not really looking forward to this section. Martin and Pat came in with a couple of other runners, just as I was leaving. Knowing they were close made me focus on heading out and getting started again. Crossed the ubiquitous dry creek bed, up a road for a short distance before turning right back onto the Larapinta Trail again. I was back on my own and drifting in my thoughts again. Just trying to work out how I was going to attack this section. Go hard for as long as possible and hang on? Or keep it conservative and see if there is enough left for a crack near the end? 

I was still mulling this over as I climbed a steep little pinch that was more rock-bouldering and scramble than run. When you guessed it, Billy Joels Uptown Girl sprang back into my head for a 2nd day running (excuse the pun). Oh, bugger off, as if I don't have enough on my plate currently? Round and round it went, like some demonic 7-inch vinyl. To try and blindside it, I played hopscotch on the rocks on the next descent. Kinda worked, it also helped me focus on the terrain and keeping safe.

As the next section of trail opened out and I was up for a run, I noticed a runner slowly coming up behind me. As we would often wear completely different kit to the day before, it wasn't until a runner would get close that we would recognise them. But as he got closer, I could say I'd never seen him before during the event. He could have been way ahead on all 3 previous days, having a shocker today, or keeping it easy. He could be having a great day today, where previously he'd been well behind me. Neither. He'd been holidaying in Alice and was spotted by another competitor who went up to him and asked him, "You running Larapinta?"
He'd replied, "What's that?". 15 minutes later he's enquiring about signing up.

WHAT? Jesus, I entered this race 18 months ago, been training for it for the last 5!
"And you guys are awesome, 4 days straight, backing up. You're looking real strong!"

Looking back over what I just came through.
This was one of the many rocky outcrops we 
navigated on the final 13k.

 I know he's not being deprecating, he is genuinely in awe of what we are doing. But man, signing up the day before, for even today? Brave, foolish, or both! I take my hat off to him. And on top of that, he'd hardly run during 2020, nothing to race for, etc. He acknowledged that the lack of running may come back at him later, but at the moment he's happy to stick with me as we push along this section. His name was Darius (not to be confused with my friend, Darian) and he had a good pedigree running ultras, so no stranger to pain, suffering, and despair 😉 It was nice to share the trail, chat a bit. Billy Joel finally consigned to a straight-jacket in a padded cell of my mind, for the time being.

My recollection of most of this is that it had flat runnable sections, interspersed by hard rocky outcrops that were difficult to scramble over. It was hot too, the hottest I'd felt of the 4 days. I had enough water but was conscious of rationing it in case I was about to have a major slowdown. And after nearly 20 hours of competition, I eventually get a visible injury. Not a stack, but a cut on the leg from a tree limb, sticking out of the side of the trail as I turned around a sharp corner. Never saw it, just felt the slicing on my shin. As is the want of the body, mid-activity, it bled profusely. Looked much worse than it actually was. But a week later, taking a long time to heal, it was a bit deep...

30k ticked over on my watch. Sometime before this, my body had indicated that was it for the day. I'd come over a bit cold and clammy, shivered in the heat of the day. A sign I'd well and truly hit the wall. All there was to do for now was hike it in. I tried eating, but my mouth was drier than the surrounding landscape. A gel just stuck to my mouth, my hands, my face. Hydralite, or water it was from now on. As we descended one of the small outcrops of rock, I spotted a runner ahead that we were catching fairly fast. I recognised him as a runner in my event, not a slow runner back-of-pack in the short course. He was favouring a leg, and sure enough, when we caught him, found out he'd rolled an ankle on the big climb. That was a long, long time ago. He was okay, just soldiering on. Nothing we could do except alert race officials when we finished. Darius and I pushed on. But within a kilometre, he was coming back up behind us again, having worked out he can trot fairly well on the easy trail that descends.

Pretty soon he's run back past me again. We are 2 k out, I can make out the cliffs of Ellery Waterhole. My thoughts drift again. Thinking that Martin and Pat should have caught me by now, I'm going slower than a month of Sundays. Hope they're okay. A runner does come up behind me, Jacqui, so no, not them. We are just starting a gentle 1k descent towards the finish line and I notice Darius has dropped behind (cramps, his calves finally giving up). I'm getting a second wind as I near the end. Soon enough, the car park comes into view and the trail drops down to cross a dry creek bed, for one last time. (Motto of this race: dry creek beds will continue until morale improves!). In front of me are Jacqui and the runner with the buggered ankle. I cross the creek, climb up the other side, and can hear the clapping and cheers of the finish line as the 2 in front cross it. Hit a paved path that leads to the waterhole and is lined with flags and markers. As I approach, I'm trying to work out how we go through the finish chute. Then I work it out, we run down to the water's edge, then turn back up. I'm tempted to just run straight into the water but don't as I need to stop this watch, finish the race and complete the event.

If you're going to finish, finish in style!
Photo credit: http://themattimage.com

Nicky is there, holding one side of a banner as I run through it, thinking I'm winning a prestigious major marathon, not mid-field, day 4 of an ultra 😂 I hunch over, the effort and energy burnt over the last 4 days finally catching up with me. A wave of emotion comes over me; not sad, nor happy, nothing really. Probably just an overreaction to finishing. It quickly passes and I acknowledge the race officials as they hand me my pannikin with an ice-cold can of Coke in it. 

The photo was taken just as my brain was saying,
"Get the hell out before extremities
fall off!" Karen on my right, female vintage age group winner.
Photo credit: http://themattimage.com

And that was that, all over. 34k in 5 hours 33 minutes. 4 days of racing, 4 days of mentally preparing and backing up. (It took me about 3 days for it to really sink in, what I'd achieved. What we'd all achieved, to tell you the truth). Despite warnings that the waterhole was F cold, I went in anyway. Why not, I'd imagined finishing here since they announced the stage changes, it would have been rude, not too. And yep, it was freezing!

The Washup

It's fair to say I found this grueling and a real test for me. But I finished it and was more than happy with my efforts. I know there are more difficult events around, longer, steeper, harder terrain; but this was my Everest. Day 2 being the hardest single day I've had, and then having to back that up for another 2 days made cumulative fatigue a real issue. But hey, I didn't die! Today was probably tougher than day 3, but not by much. It just felt damn harder as the body ran out of energy with about 10k to go. 

Would I do this again? On every one of the last 3 days, I would have said no. But now, in the comfort of home, and looking back, maybe is the answer. Certainly would like to head back and see the scenery again.
And like the pufferfish in Finding Nemo after they escape the aquarium in the dentists, 'wot next'? A few races penciled in, but not entered as I wait for the mind and body to recover before deciding what I want to achieve. Until then, bask in the glory of the most recent race.

One Final Note

I shared this experience with a great bunch of wonderful people. Many were friends that I have known for years. Many others that I only met on Wednesday, and may never see again. But we shared a bond and a common goal, and you made it a memorable event. The following is a selection of photos of the runners that I remember sharing the trail with, some banter, or post-race chats, whose paths we crossed briefly. If you are reading this, and don't see your photo, apologies. But you were all part of the wonderful vibe of the event.
Note: All the following images courtesy of Matt Hull from http://themattimage.com

# 32 Jacqui from Westerfolds was always close by. As was # 40, Aaron. we spent 3 of the 4 days pretty much together for most of the day. #43 Mark, also a Westerfoldian was in my age group and vying for a podium. 

Got to admire a runner who signs up the night before an event! Darius hung in on day 4 went it got tough.

Casie, a fellow 605 runner. Actually met her at the race!

#35 Pat, and #36 Martin were in my age group. And just quietly, we were probably racing each other without acknowledging as much. In the end, 14 minutes separated us after 4 days and 21 hours.

Chantele is a good friend, but I hardly saw her as she was racing the short course. Her rusty first aid skills desperately needed on day 2, patching up a fellow runner after a nasty fall.

Kylie, best friend of one of my best friends. She had a great event, and lovely to catch up. We also worked out my boss and her husband are friends. Small world...

Judy (left) and Steph (right) talking to Sam Maffet (RD). They ran the whole way together, even had matching kit. But were always up for a chat, and so enthusiastic to not just me, but every other runner.

Shared a large part of day 2 with Jacqui (#51), especially over the big climb. An accomplished ultra runner, we chatted about mutual races we'd done and their relative difficulty compared to this day!

Tani was always there or thereabouts on the days we were close to each other. But invariably came home stronger, always running with a smile.

Like Tani, Lonneke was always somewhere around me as we raced. 

Jackie was racing at the rear of the field, but I shared a table with her at the awards night after day 3. Training in Echuca did not prepare her for the climbs here.

Sarah and I played leapfrog on a number of days, particularly day 2 in the endless hamster wheel of dry creek beds!

The song that the blog title is inspired by. Inertia creeps pretty much described the last 10k of both of these days.

Stone in Focus

Run Larapinta - 4-day multi-stage race.

How did we get here?

Where do I start with this one? Sometimes I wonder where I got the idea into my head that I would do a multi-stage race. After completing Margaret River Ultra in May 2018 and bitching wildly about all the sand, I somehow found my name on the mailing list of Marathon Des Sables (suspecting a prank from a friend there). A quick look at it, and a big fat NOOOOO from me.

But 4 months later I also completed Surf Coast Century 100 and knew that all I needed was Run Larapinta Long Course (The Malbunka) to complete the Triple Crown, a concept devised by Rapid Ascents to generate an event that is tough to attain, but not out of the reach of the common person. (I should know, I've just completed it! Whoops, spoiler alert 😮)

If my memory serves me correct, it was an idle conversation with Em and Annie in early 2019 where we talked about all doing it together; safety in numbers, or more likely let us make it a bit of a party. I suspect the latter...

Being too late to enter the 2019 event as it was already sold out, we decided to target 2020 when entries opened in October 2019. Then COVID hit and all our plans went into disarray. It's now late April 2021, and we have just completed our Triple Crown. The following is my thoughts and impressions on one of the toughest events I've ever done, so far.

Stage 1 - Alice Springs twilight run

Victorian runners at the start of stage 1. The first day, and an afternoon start in the warmth.
Photo credit: Matt Hull (https://themattimage.com)

Mandatory gear check and race brief completed, We all trooped up the road towards the Botanic Gardens and our race start at 5:00pm for Malbunka, and 5:30 for the Namatjira (short course race). It was warm, but not too hot, although we were sure that would change once we started running. Lots of greetings, hugs, and general banter as we waited around for Sam Maffet (Rapid Ascents RD) to start us off. Nicky was there for a few minutes before she headed off to run her race which started about 3k away from our start. Most of us not actually believing we were finally getting to run. A group photo (one above), a few words from Sam and then the countdown.

Sunrise occurred just as I climbed to the highest point.

Now I had planned this event for months, each day had a strategy. Day 1 was to stretch the legs, keep a good pace but not get sucked into racing hard. But with the surge of adrenalin, we were all off charging down the path that followed the Todd River. Lots of chat, still a bit of banter going on. It was a pacey start that would soon have the field stringing out, the chat stop, and the pace settle down as we headed away from Alice and towards the trails. I suspected I was comfortably midfield as we commenced what was a series of undulations all the way to the finish line. Most of the trails here were walking trails, wide enough to pass a runner, mostly soft sand, but easy to run on. The temperature was cooling, but we were all getting hot, sweating away as the kilometres ticked off.

At the 6k mark, we turned onto a road that gently swept around back towards Alice Springs before we headed off on a trail again and the longest climb today (Considering what we climbed over the next 3 days, it was minor)

A few locals out walking must have wondered what was going on, a congo line of red-faced, sweaty runners huffing and puffing their way around the course. A marshal waved us towards a different trail and the climb that took us towards the photographer. He'd forewarned us at the race brief that he'd be on the top of a climb in order to get the stunning background in the picture. You can only help but smile as you struggle up past him to get THAT shot!
Passed friend Ingrid. "How are you going?", I ask. Was not expecting her answer, "I've fallen over, bashed my knee and hand but have bruised a rib and it hurts to breathe". Oh shit, not on the first day... She was still running, but I was putting distance between us as she slowed up.

Nicky running day 1, short course. 
Photo credit: Matt Hull (https://themattimage.com)

By now I've stopped to put the headtorch on, waiting for the light to get dark enough that the beam works. and no sooner had I got it on and it was dark, Central Aus not mucking around with twilight, straight into inky blackness. So far the trail has been straightforward to run on, even though the rocks spaced at regular intervals made it a bit of a lottery with foot placement.

Now, in darkness with only the beam of your headtorch to light the way, it became a bit more tricky. I had been following a friend Karen for a while, slowly catching her. As we hit a road at the 15k mark, I realise her torch is a bit dim. She'd changed batteries that morning, but no go, it was next to useless. I ran close behind her for a while, trying to light the trail before we realised it was better if I was in front, calling out obstacles as we passed over them. That seemed like a good idea until I realised just how many obstacles, trip points there were.
"Rock left", "rock right", "tree root", "step up", "rocks, many of them", "step down", "rocks". After about a kilometre Karen called out that she was using her phone torch, probably taking pity on me having to narrate our way to the end. We hit a road briefly, then turned left onto the path. (Nearly missed the path, and I reckon a few others did miss it).

Very soon I was aware of bright lights coming up behind me. Thinking it was a runner with 700-lumen Ayups, I turned round to let them pass. Only to find out it was 6 cyclists, out burning up the MTB trails we were on. With lights on handlebars and their heads, it was like something out of Close Encounters of the Third Kind! They were incredibly apologetic, "Sorry, sorry" etc. I was dripping with sarcasm, "No worries, we only race here once a year!" 😀

Suspect I was the first competitor with my headtorch actually on. 
Photo credit: Matt Hull (https://themattimage.com)

The last few k's, I slowed up a bit, trying to conserve energy for the big run tomorrow. I was sweating a fair bit and although I'd been sucking down the water and electrolytes, I was still a bit dry-mouthed. A few runners starting to come up behind me at the same time as we are catching the tail end of the short course field. They are happy to step aside for faster runners, as I do too. We all give encouragement to each other, we may be competing, but we also support one another.

And before I know it, a brief snatch of the finish line PA system can be heard, a row of illuminated lights appears and our final path to the finish shute starts. 2:15 for 20.6k. Probably about 10 to 15 minutes faster than I planned. But I wasn't fatigued at the end, sweaty though. As soon as I stopped the sweat poured out, rivers of it 🤮

Nicky was there, having finished her race not long before I came through. Another 30 seconds and Karen finished phone in hand, bemoaning her bad luck. Thankfully we wouldn't need torches again for the rest of the event. A few other friends were already finished; tales of near misses with tripping, actually tripping with minor cuts, and a few with some hefty cuts.

A quick drink and eat at the finish line, then we joined to queue for the buses back to our accommodation. It was nearly 8:30 by the time we got back into our unit, shower, food (2-minute noodles to the rescue), and a cup of tea as I sorted through gear for tomorrow, finally setting the alarm for 4:30. It wasn't an especially early start in the morning, but I wanted to make sure I was up, alert, and fully fed before heading out again. That was day 1 done. We were underway and, with very little recovery, it was going to be our biggest day tomorrow.

Stage 2 - Simpsons Gap to Standley Chasm

Startline at Simpsons Gap.
The Marquee and equipment were for a Masterchef episode they were filming there. 
It was the coldest morning of the 4.

Bleary-eyed and a bit stiff, we boarded the bus for the short trip out to Simpsons Gap. We'd been warned this was the hardest day of this event, so we were a bit apprehensive as we readied ourselves for the day ahead. Arrived at Simpsons Gap to find a stunning array of marquees, tables, toilets etc. Rapid Ascent really pulling out all stops with race details. That is until we find out it's for a Masterchef episode they are filming today. good luck with the flies, contestants 😂 Ingrid was on the bus, thigh heavily bandaged and saying it hurt to breathe. But she was determined to start and see if things eased up as she warmed up into the run. 
The prep was the same each morning. Keep the warm clothes on as long as possible, make sure everything is tucked safely into the hydration vest, check the bladder is connected properly, slather on the sunscreen. We get photos in front of the start line, linger around chatting about last night's race and about what to expect from today. Even now, you are talking to other runners who aren't your friends, but in most cases are your direct competitors. Drop out gear bags into the support vehicle, head down onto the sand between the flags, and at quarter to 7, we were off. 

The grass in the foreground was the culprit that covered the trail. This was taken about
2k in, from memory. Certainly early in the day.
Photo credit: Matt Hull (https://themattimage.com)

The first section, through the car park, then onto a stony single-track that winds its way towards the distant hills. I'm acutely aware of the sound of a thousand bees and am wondering if I'm hallucinating early today. No, it was the photographers' drone. A conga line of runners snaking along, some trying to pass in impossible parts, others like me content to hold back and not get caught up in the fast start. We eventually sort ourselves out after about 2k, ending up in pairs or groups of 4. The trail is difficult to follow (make that impossible in parts). As noted before, recent rains have greened up this area, more so than the race organisers have ever seen. As a result the grasses are growing right over the track, both sides so that at times, the merest hint of a shadow of a trail can be seen. That might sound inconsequential, but given the very rocky nature underfoot, foot placement was critical. And when you can't see where your foot is going, it becomes a lottery.

So it was slow going. Run a bit, trip on a rock, walk a bit, gain confidence to run a bit, trip a bit. Rinse and repeat... If that wasn't enough to put us off, periodically we would lose the trail altogether. Like, just run straight off it and suddenly realise you were just in the middle of a grassland. 

Go on, find the trail! Yes, there is pink ribbon,
but where is that trail?
Photo credit: Duncan Gillis

At one point, running in a group of 4, we split up like an aerobatics formation team. Each one of us then stopped, yelling to each other, 

"See the trail". 

"No".
"Pink ribbon, blue marker? Anything?"
Finally, "Over there". We were all less than 20 metres away from it. Rejoined it and it looked like a highway; how could we have missed that? 100 metres later it peters out again and we blunder around for a minute retracing our steps. It eventually got better, but the mental and physical energy required to push through was taxing. 

So far the temp is cool, even with the sun climbing around the peaks over our right shoulders. I'm now just travelling along with one other runner. He is content to stick behind me; I run, he runs, I walk, he walks. I don't mind, company, even fairly non-verbal along here is appreciated. But after a period he gets a little too close and starts stumbling on every little rock. I have a theory, you have only so many half-trips/stumbles before the big one arrives; the face-plant. It's a bit like the warning signs before a volcanic eruption 😀 After a period I contrive to take a photo and let him go. Then wonder if I'll find him face down an hour later...

The trail is obvious from the air, naturally!
Photo credit: Matt Hull (https://themattimage.com)

Conscious it's a long day ahead, I start eating early. Mainly cliff bars, but also a gel. The first aid station is about 10k in and I want to refuel there as well as eat on the run. Nicky is also volunteering today, at this aid station, so something to look forward to. A few runners come past, I pass a few as we play leapfrog along the trail. 8k in and I'm already doing the maths on my watch re ETA at aid stations, finish line etc., and already looking like a long day. I figured maybe it wasn't going to be my day, getting left behind.

Kylie and Nicky, a welcome sight at the first aid station.
Photo credit: Nicole Walsh

Hit the aid station about 1 hour 20, not too bad. But I felt a bit stuffed already. Kylie and Nicky were busy as there were already a few people here as I pulled in. Love a fully stocked aid station. On today's menu; watermelon, orange quarters, bananas cut in half, assorted lollies, cake (Coles brand light and dark) plus water and Tailwind if you needed it. I was self-sufficient with electrolyte, so just needed water. A few pieces of dark fruit cake, watermelon and orange, then off on my way again. For some reason, I find myself running at the back of a small group again, and although we thinned out over the next 18k, we still managed to hit the next aid station together again. 

As noted, it was 18k to the next checkpoint. The trail has opened out a little and is gently climbing. In fact, it's been climbing gently since the carpark at the start, and 22k in climbing over a largeish hill, we have already clocked up about 500 metres of elevation gain on what looks like a flat trail. The temperature is now getting warm. But it's dry, so you don't sweat anywhere near as much as you would normally (well I would be sweating heaps by now).

One of the many smaller climbs we encountered before the bigger climb
that shot us to pieces later on.
Photo credit: Matt Hull (https://themattimage.com)

Along this section I had my own period of mini trips and stumbles, wondering if the next one was going to be the Full Monty. managed to stay upright, more arse than class. Kilometres 23 to 27 were downhill, descending off a peak. You'd think we could speed up a little coming down the path, but it twisted and turned enough and was littered with loose rocks and stones that it was dangerous in parts, impossible to run in others. 

Along here, I passed Jason. He'd fallen and cut his hand badly, was patched up but taking it easy getting into the next aid station. I wondered how many others had tripped along here.

A couple of female runners were ahead, about 500 metres, I'd catch sight of them on a climb, lose them on the other side, catch sight of them again. It was a nice game to play, seeing if I could stay close enough without overdoing it. As we approached the 27k mark, we came to a section of the trail that just ended up on a dry creek bed. Admittedly the trail beforehand had the subtle appearance of a dry creek bed, this was the real deal. I'd caught up to one of the women in front of me, and we walked down, at times just checking the path actually did run down here. The trail curves around to the right (on the map it is marked as a ribbon of blue, but now it's just dry and dusty), and eventually we can see cars parked and a marquee on the other side of a waterhole (with real water, what we'd give to swim across that). Red and white marker tape blocked us from entering the waterhole, and instead, we were diverted up another dry creek bed, this one more of a scramble than before.

Wondering where this was going (sighting the aid station then being diverted was like running away from the MCG during Melbourne Marathon, RD's can be bastards at times...). I hear other voices, look around and behind, no-one there. The runner behind me says, "Look up to the left". I look up and see runners snaking their way over a sharp little hill.

"You're shitting me".

"I shit you not" was the reply.

So the final 200 metres sees us trudging up a steep hill then down the other side. Alarmingly, we spot a massive blood splatter on the rocks on the way down. Not so much a cut knee as a violent murder. Later on, we found out it was just tree sap, but for a second there...

28k aid station, never been so happy to finally arrive there. A ute had been pulled up and water containers placed on the back for us to fill up. Marshals were taking down numbers of runners, a safety precaution more than checking if we were cheating. The usual array of food and I ate a large amount. We still had 14k to go and already I've been on my feet for over 4 hours. A couple of friends here, Darian and Matt, have walked in with another runner who has tripped, banged himself up a fair bit and is considering whether to pull out. The vollies are desperately trying to convince him to carry on, "You'll regret it if you don't finish, you can walk it from here and still beat cutoff", etc. (Spoiler alert: he did continue and made it!).

The path is directly ahead!

This was my longest stay at aid so far, I needed to cool down a bit and needed to fill up with a minimum of 3 litres of water. (We were only going 14k, 3 litres? Oh, how we laughed. We were young and naive!) I headed out at a walk, Darian and Matt following me out and we chatted along the way. Eventually, Matt wanted to push on, tired of walking and I let them go through. They ran/walked sections, I hiked along behind them. By the time we approached the major climb, I was still within sight of them. I look up and spy the trail snaking its way to the top of the climb. It didn't look easy, and my flagging energy levels didn't fill me with confidence. But climbing is my thing, I can hike the shit out of a climb and go as fast as someone running slow. 

Just as the climb started, I pulled into the bushes to urinate. To my horror, it was chocolate brown and smelt awful. Shit, dehydration. Never had this before. Slightly alarmed I stopped and thought through the situation. I wasn't feeling ill, I was about to climb so no walking meant I could probably drink a bit more frequently than usual. I carried on, firstly draining my soft flask dry, then starting on the 2-litre bladder. I left the flask that had electrolytes in it alone, just wanted as much water as I could safely take on. 

On the climb on the way up, smiling. And why not, look at the view behind me!

There were a few runners ahead of me, high up on the climb. Even though I thought I was moving slowly, I started to catch up and soon we were a group again. Darian, Matt, and another runner.  It was a slog though, the surface had loose rocks, it twisted and turned enough, then occasionally just decided not to follow the contour and go straight up. Legs really feeling it now, body fatiguing and the heat starting to rise into the mid 20's. Hit the top around 5:50, 33k in. Still 9k to go, and a good chunk downhill. I had no illusions that it was going to anything but hard, but at least thought it would be straightforward. A runner I'd been around earlier in the day, Jacqui, was helping out another runner near the top. He'd cramped severely and was struggling just to stand. Whatever Jacqui did, it worked, he could at least walk. Darian and Matt had stopped, then continued on, I stayed with Jacqui and Gareth to help him through until Jacqui continued on, then it was just Gareth and myself. Once we started to descend, Gareth moved a lot easier. clearly downhill less painful than up. He assured me he was ok, so I ran on, seeing if I could catch the others again.

Then we hit the descent. And OMG. Rocky, steep, stunning views, but a trip here and it would have been catastrophic. There is a Strava segment here, called Freefall. It's not ironic. Kilometre 36 had a 220-metre elevation loss, all on a hard rocky trail. I caught the group, a few others also caught up and around 6 of us ended the descent, only to turn up into another dry creek bed. 

This one was a real scramble. At times we lost the trail going around boulders and rocky overhangs. We knew it was straight up the creek, but at times it was tough finding the way. We all took turns losing the trail for others to find it for us. Slow going, but we kept moving, the only way to get to the finish. Just before a particularly hard section, we came across another runner in distress. Aaron had cooked himself badly, was moving, but at an almost snail's pace. 

We had to climb around a dry waterfall, anyone with a fear of heights might have hated this (might? would have...). Aaron tacked onto the back of our group and started to move better, probably nice having someone else around. Nothing worse than being ill and on your own. 

I'd started looking at my watch way too frequently; it wasn't going to make the finish line come quicker, and it wasn't pacifying me that we were making good time. All our target times, long since blown away on the major climb, maybe even before it.

Yes, there is a trail, of sorts. It's a dry creek bed and getting pretty bloody warm at 2 in the afternoon.
L-R: Tani, Matt and Darian.

The trail moved away from the creek for a small climb where a race official was positioned with emergency water. He advised us it was about 3k to go, with 2 hills to climb to get to the finish. 2 more? Fuck it... Then we were descending, hitting a creek that led directly to Standley Chasm. As we approached we could see the cleft in the rock, the stones leading down along with course markers, my watch ticked over the 40k mark. 
Hallelujah, nearly home. We hadn't bargained on the hills though. A short way in and we turn right from the creek bed, and once again look at a trail that climbs sharply over a hill. As we climb up, came across a runner throwing his guts up, friend Andrew. I stayed with him until he was capable of walking, and we trudged up the first hill. I could hear voices across the other side, spectators urging the runners in front of us to keep moving. As Andrew and I got to the saddle and looked across, there was an even steeper and longer climb on the other side. 
We walked down, started the climb and Andrew said he'd take a breather. He was fine, just needed to take it in stages. He was okay with me going on, so I kept going up the climb. It took me 2 goes; several stops with hands on knees, quads, calves aching and body stuffed, to get to the top.  I had to remind myself that I sign up for this shit, no one forces me to do it! A little chuckle to myself, then down the last steep descent. It, at least, is a well-formed stone path/steps and I can move down at a reasonable pace.

At the bottom, a marshal or spectator (can no longer remember) says it's downhill all the way. Now, where have we heard that before, kiddies? It's a well-formed path that just screams day-use area, we must be close. An official walking up says it's just around the corner. Now, where have we heard that before, kiddies? And bugger me if it was. Probably a tad over 400 metres along the path I could hear the music playing and then see the finish shute, never a more glorious sight. I was stuffed and pretty well done in. Finish time of 7:50:09 was so far outside my original target time, it's not worth noting.

If ever a finish photo sums up my day perfectly, this is it.
Photo credit: Matt Hull (https://themattimage.com)

A few minutes later Andrew came through, having battled away over the last k. His first thoughts were that he wasn't confident about backing up tomorrow. Wait and see, was my reply. Walked around in a daze for a bit, eating, drinking before finding my clothes bag and getting the wallet to go buy a chocolate milkshake. On top of the coke and all the other wildly nutritious foods I'd stuffed into my body throughout the day, a milkshake couldn't be any worse. In fact, it was just the best, ice-cold, full of chocolate and cream and ice!

As a few other runners came in and we compared notes, it was heartening to see we all had taken much longer than we'd anticipated, even given the warnings by the race directors of how hard this stage was. But by then, we were already thinking ahead to tomorrow and whether we could back up, and how would the body respond if we did.

There endeth day 2 😌

Postscript: Thankfully the dehydration was short-lived as I was fine later that afternoon. 

Elevation profile just doesn't do this justice!

In case you're wondering about the blog name, it references a song by AphexTwin. The song title a hint to the terrain we ran over. This is a most unusual video set to the song.