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.