It was supposed to be redemption, coming back after a 2-year absence AND dropping back to the 50. It didn't quite pan out that way, but that's the beauty of ultras, you just never know how your day is going to end up. And having a trusted friend by your side? Well, that means the day was just fine.
Duncans 50k
Belle and I did the 100 2 years ago, signed up in 2019 for the 2020 event (COVID saw to that, and every other bloody race for nearly 11 months in Victora), and then a year later finally fronting up for the event. We went in with a good deal of confidence, training going well, no injuries or any concerns (although I was nursing a bruised rib, more about that later), and a positive mindset that no matter how hard it might get, it wasn't the 100, there wasn't going to be any Loop 3 disasters (see Jeremy for 100k report) and none of the climbs was 4 Mile (see here for that reference)!
We had also run together at Warburton, the Donna Double. A 22k run with 1000 metre of vertical climb up, then, of course, the reverse for the descent. It was a calf and quad smasher, but we both ran well, had a good time and were really happy with our racing.
As days go, it wasn't the worst. It wasn't the best either. 😃
It all started well. Lift up with my friend Caz; in the dark driving up the Monash Highway looking at the splats of rain on the windscreen, the low cloud reflecting the lights from Lou Yang power station. It was a bit eerie. On the drive up the Traralgon-Balook Road, we came across a dead wombat. Fresh kill, too. Caz stops and we get out to check. Unfortunately, a mother and a fairly old one too. She was a fair size, but in good health, no mange at all. But, she had a very young bub in the pouch and there was nothing we could do for the poor bugger. Too young to nurture back to health to grow to an adult. So maybe not the best start to the day...
Arrived at Balook, it was cool, infrequent showers would sweep across and we all tried to keep under shelter and dry before the race started. As with most events in Victoria in 2021, it was a reunion of sorts. Many of us catching up for the first time in over a year with conversations falling back to how well we'd prepared and how much we looked forward to getting out on the course. Oh, we were so young and naive!
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| How it started! All smiles with about 10 minutes to go |
Around 10 minutes before we were to head off and after we'd stowed bags in the bag drop area, some of us smothered ourselves in insect repellent (if there'd been a bath, several would have dived full in, like a sheep dip) and checking we had all our water, electrolytes and food in the pack, we were called to the start line. The idea to head off in waves of 40. 2 waves. Not wanting to start too near the front, I wandered a fair way back and Belle followed. We soon realised we'd put ourselves into wave 2 (we wanted wave 1, but I wanted to start near the back). Before we could jump in, the wave was off. Never mind. But we ended up 2 rows from the front. The mantra of "Don't go out too fast" kept rolling through my head. The 3 minutes in between waves seemed to go at light speed. (My law of time states that as you near the start of a race, time increases exponentially. One minute you're casually pulling gear out of your kit bag, yakking with mates, next minute you're running over the start line, stuffing crap into your vest, trying to start the watch and making sure you don't trip on the start mat)
Start, Loop 1
Timer clock ticks over to 8:02:50. Matty V gets on the mic;
"Ready to go folks, start in 5, 4 ,3..."
Belle screams, "Look at this fucker, Les". I peer at the minuscule leech dancing on her finger. "It's an omen!", she says.
Matty V, ".. 2, 1, GO!"
Off we go. All I can hear is Belle behind me going, "Get off me. Farrrrkkkking thing, OFF!". I can only think what the start line photos will look like, me laughing my head off, Belle looking cranky, waving her finger around in the air!
The first part has us exiting the start/finish area and heading down south to do a loop around the eastern side. The "don't start fast" mantra still in my head.
So anyway, after the first 2k of sub 6, barreling down to where friend Geoff Markley is marshalling, we finally settle down and get into proper ultra race mode; run the downs and the flats, hike the hills. After 4k we return briefly to the start line, barricades lined with runners and supporters, calling our names out as we run past. Then we head down Link Track towards the main road then up Telecom Track on the first loop, known as the Mt. Tassie loop. We run/walk this section up to where Caz is the marshal. Fellow BBR, Nick Gregory has been running near me most of the way so far, as we head up the top end of Drysdale Road. Belle has cleared out to about 70 odd metres at this point and I thought she was feeling strong and carrying on. I was happy to let her go if she was up for a race.
Right on 6.5 k, viewing each tree as a potential toilet, I ducked off to relieve myself. Doesn't matter how often or how close to the start I go, I often need to go again. A quick look behind revealed a runner about 15 or seconds behind. Beauty, I only need 10 seconds. 20 seconds later he passes as I pop out of the bush. Push on up Drysdale only to see Belle waiting for me. Seems Nick told her I'd ducked off for a slash. We head down the trail to cross the main road again and descend to the Duffs Sawmill track, the scene of many a leech encounter here 2 years ago.
I love this section, it's hard in places to get rhythm running, but the ferns, the mosses, the smells of the damp undergrowth are worth the entry price alone (Loop 2 tends to make allowances in the other direction). A group of us are travelling through here, Nick, Carl Kouldelka and we caught up with Diana from DTR. Windy section, many cutbacks, slippery track with dud camber then pop out onto a logging road. Several years ago this road was a track, now it's gravelled, the sides trashed to widen it as forestry operations are happening in the area. I know forestry is important, we need timber, but gee it's depressing seeing the aftermath of an operation.
Turn back onto some single trail again and head towards Callignee South Road. So far, everything going well for both of us, a nice pace, no leeches for Belle and the weather is still cool. Humid as all feck, but fine for running in. On Calignee South Road and Andy Payne catches up with us. His first race since August 2019, was a bit of unknown territory for him and the poles out to assist. We tracked together, the 3 of us along the track across the top on Mt. Tassie (highest point on the 21, 50 and 100k courses. But don't ever say it's all downhill from here because it definitely is not!).
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| View from Mt. Tassie, our highest point today. |
Off the top of Mt. Tassie, down a grass track, that sounds appealing, but I always think it's a trap to invert or break ankles. Aid station across the Traralgon-Balook Road again and then the first of several quad smashing descents for the day. This one lasts 4k and drops us 300+ metres down into the valley. Downhills are fun, until you realise that you will have to go back up again. When Belle and I finally get to the bottom I say to her, "Didn't think that was going to end". Her unprintable reply was probably not the first time I was going to hear that today. Walk up a short section, back down a bit more (Seriously? Like we are now at 400 metres, we need to be at 640...)
Andy passes us again on the up and it's the last we'll see of him until the finish line. And we start the long, slow trudge up Drysdale Road again. The first runner comes back the other way (50k course goes up, then comes back down again. I know, sadistic, isn't it!). It's Corey (aka Junkyard dog on the socials, well not Facebook, Corey doesn't do Facebook, or maybe Facebook doesn't let Corey on there...). Before I can ask him his place, he tells me John Dutton (eventual winner) has gotten away from him. So 2nd it is, atm. Who knows how a race pans out though.
Drysdale Road is exposed, long and just a bit sucky. We climb a cool 250 metres in 2k before it flattens enough to run. A number of 50k runners coming back down towards us, all giving us a cheer as they pass, we return the cheer back. Past Caz again at her marshal point. She has a balloon shaped into what she calls, Larry the Leech. (Vollies, getting into runners minds since the dawn of time). Back onto Telecom, which is a welcome descent. Cross the road, round the trail that goes over the suspension bridge and back into the start/finish in 2 hours 57 minutes for 23k. I'd hoped for 2:40 for 21, so we were pretty much on time, and feeling pretty good about proceedings so far.
Loop 1 finish, Loop 2 start
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| Corrigan Suspension Bridge, end of loop 1. |
Quick stop, Belle grabbed her hiking poles from my bag, I changed over drink bottles, grabbed more gels and ate a bit of homemade date loaf. Walked out of the transition area eating and letting any food and drink get settled in the stomach. For a brief period, back going the same way we had gone before, heading up Telecom Track towards Caz. Except for this time, turn left and head down Drysdale Road towards the turn-off for what Belle and I remember as Loop 3 from the 100. Only it's now Loop 2, and we are doing 50. Plenty of 50k runners still coming down Telecom, many of them friends or runners I know. Veronica and Jennifer could be heard well before they were seen, such was the conversation they were having!
Must admit to taking a few deep breaths as we started heading down. Just getting myself into a positive frame of mind. And then the realisation that we were continuing on yet another long grinding descent. this one packed a 300-metre loss in 4k. All of it runnable, but shit the legs felt good to stop the pounding as we hit the bottom and headed up. A quick look towards Belle, and confirmation that the last descent could take a flying jump. Maybe it was the look in her eyes, maybe it was the angry face, maybe it was because she said, "that was farked". Never die wondering with my trail mate! Very soon we hit a crossroads and I immediately recognised where we took another trail in 2019 that added several kilometres to our run. At this point in the 100, it was 60k, only a cool 28 here. This climb only 2k and 110 metres of vert. Pffft, nothing really (that was sarcasm). Belle and I hiking up here having a good ol chat and a half. The cloud had cleared a bit, it was warming up and the scenery was quite lovely through the forest. It was still mainly undisturbed (well, from recent events; fire or forestry). Despite the fatigue in the legs, we were ok, just moving one foot in front of the other.
Then another descent. This one a 3 and half k losing 200 metres along the way. We could still run these, but every time I looked at my HR, it was in zone 4, trying desperately to creep into 5 and blow me to pieces. I was pretty much on the edge, Belle seemingly much better. It was on this down that a recent rib injury started to make its presence known. My initial conversation with Belle was that I'd start and if after the first loop it was ok, I'd continue on. And it was. But now, 33 odd ks in, it was going beyond mildly uncomfortable, to reasonably uncomfortable to sore. Not much I could do, grin and bear it I suppose. It was a silly injury; sweeping at Sharpies Beer on the previous Saturday, I'd tripped on a rock on a set of stairs and landed on my chest. Winded me and bruised a rib in the process. The funny thing is, though, I've stacked 3 times since December, and Julie Azzopardi was been witness to 2 of them, and in the general vicinity for the 3rd (Mt. Buller). Now, not trying to draw conclusions, but...
At the bottom was a water drop, could have done with one in 2019 when we started running out of water. Topped my water up, and then we moved on to the next climb. This one a nasty 5k with 385 metre of vert, 123 of it packed into the last k beyond the aid station at the 39k mark. At the 36k mark, I could hear voices behind us, 3 runners catching us. One was Diana from DTR, the other 2 were a male runner, approximately my age, and a young kid. A few hellos as Diana went past, she was pushing up the hill better than we were. The other 2 were in front, or near us for another k before they too got ahead on a shallower climb. Belle and I discussing (after they were out of earshot) the age of the kid, he looked very young. I said 15, Belle thinking similar, maybe a year younger. We were surprised, but watching him push his dad (an assumption there, we didn't really know the connection at all) it looked like he was the stronger of the 2.
Hit the aid station at 39k where we crossed The Grand Ridge Road. Stopped as Belle grabbed some water, I downed a gel, knowing the steep shitty climb coming up. And we headed off. Should have saved the gel, did nothing! Belle climbed up that bastard like a Sherpa, whereas I looked like the overfed, unfit paying client she was working for. Stopped a few times, get my breath, lean on the legs. I felt the worst I'd felt all day. Shit, still 13 odd k to go. I was worried. Finally hit the top and it levelled out, and bugger me if it doesn't just slope down again, albeit gently. Belle has waited for me (thanks) and we walk off, then commence a shuffle that eventually increases to a slow jog. Grassy path, another of those "looks good, probably fuck your ankle" sections. And once running, all is good in the world again. I'm such a fickle bugger.
Passed a runner who is walking, and quite obviously cramping. In an inspired moment packing the night before, I chucked in a cramp gel that I'd grabbed at Two Bays (when I cramped for nearly 14 bloody shit ks), even though I know they don't really work for me. I'd run about 30 metres past him when I remembered, stopped and offered it to him. He took it, grateful that it might help. As I went to head off, he asked me my name.
Me: "Les".
Runner: "You know my sister".
Me: "Umm, do I?" (wondering where the hell this conversation was heading)
Runner: "Yeah, Meg Robinson. I'm her brother".
Me: "Oh yeah, I know Meg" (Shit, thank God for that. 40k into an ultra is no place to have those sorts of conversations. Not that I would or should be or could be, and gee look at me prattling away...)
Anyway, back to the race...
More fun, another longish descent, hoo boy, loving these little babies (sarcasm, again). 2k, 250 metres lost and the first section was littered with bark, leaves and slippery underneath all that. On tiring legs it became treacherous. Numerous times Belle and I caught bark around ankles, in her poles. And then the trail twisted and turned, track camber all over the place. It was dark and cool through here, hard to see some sections. You had to step down from tree roots onto slippery sections, worrying all the time about foot placement. Soon enough, I could hear whoops and hollers through the trees, we must be nearing the aid station on Tarra Valley Road.
And sure enough, as the trail approaches the road and swings back alongside, there is the marquee, just down on the road.
"Go you champion!" yells a voice. "I can see you through the trees!", yells another. "Okey-dokey", I think to myself. Hit the road and jog down. The 2 women vollies are cheering us both in, checking off numbers as we approach.
"5023. Number 23, my husbands' favourite number!". It sounds like some weird chat-up line. But didn't matter, I'd spied the 2-litre bottle of Coke on the table, and had instantly fallen in love. Its tall dark curves luring me into a lifetime of living together, damn the doubters... Some may think it's just Coke. Not in an ultra is it ever-just-Coke. It is simply... life. A few cups later and we were off down the road. Belle had grabbed a can to go, burping all the way down the road; you can take the girl out of Heathmont...
Turning off the road onto Diaper Track (who names these? Really?), the first 100k runner comes past. looking strong, he calmly cruises up the trail, leaving us behind. We hiked on. Very soon we came across our Miracle Unicorn Waterfalltm. Ok, short explanation. We came across this little waterfall on the track about 2k from the Tarra Valley aid station 2 years ago. But today, Belle was wondering if that was an illusion, considering she'd shut out all memories of what was Loop 3! Hence, like an oasis in the desert, the Magical Unicorn Waterfalltm appeared right on the 45k mark. Splash of the face, wet the THIR and grab a good drink. Almost better than Coke, almost...
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| Miracle Unicorn Waterfalltm Picture Credit: Julie Azzopardi |
Around the next corner, passed a sign proclaiming Balook being 6.6k away. 2 years ago, we saw this, look at our watches and burst into maniacal laughter, "Absolute bullshit that is 6.6k away. Bloody Parks Victoria signage is WAY wrong!" (Narrator: no it wasn't). Older and potentially wiser, we knew that given we were a tad under 46, that was just about correct on today's money. We continued on, hiking mainly, there was no flat or descent yet. I was often in front, 10 or so metres, occasionally drop back, exchange a few words with Belle, drift forward again. caught sight of a runner ahead, then lost him as he went around a corner, just as Tom Dade came up behind us. Pushing nicely on the up, we wished him well. There was a fair gap between Tom and 1st, but it's an ultra, never in doubt until much closer to home.
Followed the runner as we approached Bulga Park Road and the last checkpoint before home. Might not have mentioned this before, but we are in the middle of another 5k climb. Only a piffling 245 metres of vert, but by now the legs have well and truly checked out on a beach in The Whitsundays and I'm left with these uncooperative lumps of flesh. Managed to pass the runner ahead, he is cooked, but at least still moving forward. One last final section of ravaged forestry and we cross Bulga Park Road, numbers taken one last time and we are left with the loop back to the finish on Forest Track and Lyrebird Ridge Track. We have 1 kilometre of down, but it's more a shuffle than a fluid run along here, then walk up the final kilometre to where it joins Ash Track.
I stop at this point, 350 metres to go and wait for Belle to catch up. Turn to her to announce with a flourish that we only have 350 metres to go as she looks at me and says, "How much bloody further on this fucking course do we have to do?". I announce with said flourish. She favours me a look that implies, get on with it. We get on with it.
Finished
And so, 53k later (54 for the Coros fan-girl) and 7:34:38 later we cross the finish line. With a certain irony, the 50k men's podium is being awarded. Plenty of people around, we get a slightly bigger cheer and clap than would normally be afforded. Better than 2019 finishing with no-one in sight except Matty V, whipping up an invisible crowd as we crossed the finish line at 1:00 am in the dark and cold. Good times, Belle, good times!
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| And, finished. Photo credit: Rebecca Handscomb |
Presented with stubby cooler, THIRtm, medal, and a bottle opener (loving the drinking theme). We have a beer thrust into our hands from RD and mate, Matt Veenstra. It was lovingly downed.
And so, another event ends. It can be lonely in an ultra. Long distances with only yourself for company. Some people love that, and indeed I've spent many an ultra, happy in my own little world of thoughts. That sometimes includes getting one-hit wonders stuck in the head (read here for my last 50 at Duncans for that one-hit wonder). But honestly, it was a joy to have someone along with me the whole day. We didn't always chat, didn't need to, their presence simply enough. But never a bad word between us, always a pleasure, Belle.
And, at the end of the day, this event is all about Duncan Orr and his legacy of trail running in Gippsland, which we are so proud to support and celebrate.
Postscript: Bumped into the young kid we'd seen earlier. Asked his mum his age. 12. Belle and I gobsmacked. Might be a name to keep an eye on. Can't remember what I was doing at 12, sure didn't include running ultras. Didn't include running, full stop.
Second Postscript: On race day I told Belle, no more events until Larapinta in late April. Recover, train a bit more and then taper with a few weeks out. But, Nicky signed up for GoldRush Trail run and it would be rude of me not to go up and support her by running the 24k. Oh, and there is a fundraiser for Good Friday appeal running from Rokeby on Friday, 18k. I'm officially hopeless.
Third Postcript: Miracle Unicorn Waterfalltm 😍It's our name, no-one else's.
Until next time...
