The Devil is in the Details

The road at the start of day 3 for Malbunka runners. We are heading towards that notch in photo centre

But Why...

It starts like this as a polite inquiry.

Them: "Your first time doing Run Larapinta?"
Me: "No".
Them: Brows furrow, eyes widen slightly. "Why a second time?" 
Me (hesitantly): "Actually it's my 3rd time".
Them: stares back...

Do I tell them I know someone who has done it 3 times already and is back here for number 4?

And I have to tell them that I love this race, it's bloody brutal and there will be times I will hate it out there, but come to the end of each stage, and the end of the 4 days there will be such a sense of accomplishment, that any pain or hurt will quickly be forgotten. Sounds good in theory, hey?

All photos with RL branding are courtesy of the photographer, James Tudor. (The rest are mine, unless credited)

Back Again

18 months ago I targeted a return to this race. Call it unfinished business, call it returning to a favourite race. Whatever it was, I was drawn to come back. The scenery, the tough course, the company; yes I'd experienced it before, but I wanted to experience it again. One last time. (I'd promised my wife. For safety's sake, I should probably keep that promise!)

Master: Makes me sound like a martial arts instructor.

Initially, I wanted to complete the full long course, including Mt. Sondor on day 4. But Glen Helen Homestead closing, and with little prospect of it opening again, meant that once again we were on the modified course. I was okay with this, having completed it before in April 2021. 

I met Andrew Davies while landing in Alice Springs on Wednesday afternoon. (Runners at the 2023 event would be aware of Andrew, he had a podcast detailing him and his friend Ed's preparation for the event.) I was introduced to Andrew through a mutual friend, Cheryl Martin. Andrew and I had never met, although FB friends and Strava followers, so was good to catch up nd chat about the event.

Early Days

I got off to a flying start by leaving my jumper on the bus from the airport to my accommodation. That was a brilliant start, Les. Thanks to Alice Silver Passenger Service for locating and returning it to me.

As is usual when I arrive on a Wednesday and stay at Desert Palms, I head to the golf club for a meal and invite other runners to come along. Jason, Rachel, Ty, and Rachel (yes, 2 Rachels 😝) came along and it was nice to catch up, swap stories, and generally relax before it all kicked off on Friday.

Thursday was spent strolling around Alice Springs playing spot the runner as I killed time in between moving from Desert Palms and The Mecure. Finally booked in, gear from my bags strewn all over the room, I went down to the 5 o’clock drinks and the meet ‘n greet other competitors. Always nice finding out where others are from, what motivates them to do this event, etc. I met a group from Sydney; Arpit, JP, Andrew, and Siv, and had the pleasure of sharing dinner with them before we all headed off for a night's sleep.

Friday, Stage 1. Telegraph Station to The Mecure

Always the worst day being a long time until we race the twilight run. I spent the morning in Alice, grabbing a late-cooked breakfast in a cafe in Todd Mall. Also, a chance to get a half-decent coffee (or any at all), as apart from the pod coffee machine in the unit, there was no way to make a coffee. It was going to make it interesting in the mornings, coffee part of the routine.

All smiles at the start of day 1.

Back to the unit and sorted out my mandatory gear to take to registration. Standing in the line chatting to a few runners (one being the eventual winner, he was humble about his chances) before finally having my gear all ticked off. Slightly surprising, usually I forget something!

Margaret Wedge: Eventual female Masters winner. 

The rest of the afternoon is spent relaxing after sorting out gear for the following days, I like to be organised as well as not leaving it until too late. Once we start running tonight, it's amazing how quickly it all goes. One minute it’s Friday, the next minute it’s Tuesday and we are flying out!

Bus to the start at the Telegraph Station. It's the first time seeing it in daylight as we normally finish here after starting near The Mecure.

Stephen and Zack, runners from Traralgon,
near my neck of the woods.

Nervous waiting around before the start, we are there for about 20 minutes. Walk around a bit, take a few photos, last minute toilet stop (very important) then we are off!

I’d seeded myself up a bit too high and found the pace hot at the start. I went with it until we were on a road and I was able to slow it down and let a few people come past. I had Andrew beside me for a bit, a sure sign I’d started off way too fast! Consequently, the first 3k felt a bit shit. Managed to get some food and drink in, then as we had a flat or slightly downhill section, found my rhythm and got into the swing of it.

I’d brought 3 pairs of shoes to Alice Springs. An old pair I’d used here 2 years ago that had little to no good tread left, but were perfect for tonight's stage. Note: Mizuno Diaches are nice comfortable shoes, but not tough on rock. 

A smoother section of trail in the late afternoon light.

A newish pair of Saucony Peregrines were good shoes, I love them, but the hard plastic plate around the heel hurt my Achilles. I was worried about doing long technical stages in them. So… a fortnight out from this race, I purchased a pair of La Sportiva Akashi’s, managed to get about 30k into them and prayed they’d be fine if I needed them. Thankfully tonight’s choice of the Mizunos was working out 😉

Whilst basically flat on a macro level, on a micro level it was up and down, twisty, and had a fair few sections of rock that kept you focused. Early stages, only Malbanka runners (long course), about 5 of us, 50 metres apart pushing along at a nice pace. First checkpoint, Annie Knight checks off our numbers as we sail past, and then we turn onto another trail that climbs again to give us views over Alice and the setting sun. 2k later we double back to rejoin the trail we left before to slot in between Namitjira runners (short course) who started after us.

Siv (408), headlight on and smiling.

 

By now it’s slowly getting dark, time to get the head-torch out of the vest (some have run with them from the start, that is being prepared), and wonder when it’s time to turn it on. One serious stumble later, and on goes mine! This is not the time or place to take a nasty stumble after working out how poor your sight is.

Now we are a large conga line of runners, both events, and thankfully we are matched for pace. Which is good, as it’s hard passing anyone along this section. We start to loop back towards Alice Springs and can see the lights in the distance, the last faint glow of dusk on the horizon. Could also see the smoke from a fire at Simpsons Gap.

Hui Harvey from Dandenong Trail Runners.
I trained with her on a few runs.

We start to drop down again, it’s technical and some runners in front are not confident. They step off the trail as we call out we are coming through. Safety first, we all want to get through unscathed. I’m running well, happy with the effort, and thinking I’ll do a good time going on current progress. I also think I’m only a few ks away from finishing. Watch beeps a kilometre split, I take a quick peek at the watch, only 14k down, still a sodding parkrun to go. Shit, shouldn’t have done that, all the goodwill evaporates. An easy mistake to make; and yes I’m the one to make it!

We are climbing again a bit, shadowing the outskirts of a residential area. Thinning out, only a few of us were still together and we stayed that way until we hit the lumpy road. Not an official name, just a descriptive name most of us would have christened it. Large drops that were lost in the head-torch, or just a lack of definition where they were. It was like stepping off a step expecting flat ground, only to find 1 more step down. Conversely, sometimes it was like expecting the drop and hammering into side of the hole on the upper side. Just grumbled and got on with it.

The last few ks alongside the road go past The Mecure and I start to back off the pace a bit. Partially thinking ahead to tomorrow, partially as I’m sweating buckets and think I’ve done plenty tonight. A group passes me, one I suspect is in my age group. So there goes another place (down to 4th, I thought).

It's actually fun running at night with only a head torch to guide you.
This was a constant scene for the last 5k, just beams of light in the distance.

Turn under the bridge and turn into the grounds of The Mecure and finish. 2:13:47, official time. 39th overall and 3rd in my age group (okay, so I’d miscounted). I’d been sweating on course, but now after I stop, out it pours. Time to head back to the room, eat, drink and pack for tomorrow. 

Slight disaster. After packing my hydration vest, I zipped up the main zip at the back, and it un-peels and breaks. Shit. Repack to take out anything I may need during the run, and then close it up using safety pins. Not the toughest of repairs and fingers crossed it survives, not just tomorrow, but the next 3 days.

Then sleep.

Saturday, Stage 2. Standley Chasm loop (amended from Simpsons Gap route)

The worst sleep. Garmin says around 1 and a half hours tops. Already wired after the run the previous night, music from several gatherings in the Todd River meant it was a very restless night. The alarm goes off and I feel absolutely shit. If I hadn’t signed up to a race, I would have just rolled back over and gone back to sleep.

The Trail! 😀

We knew of the course change for today, yet the 14k cutoff from the 42k wasn’t going to translate to an easier day, the replacement trail was still tough and technical. More so than we expected. Always a tough day, day 2, and the heat was beginning to rise each day through to Monday.

David Campbell, eventual male Masters winner.

The bus trip to Standley was uneventful. Dozed a few times to vainly catch up on some sleep. Still a bit before sunrise, gear sorting in the gloaming, making sure I have enough food in the front pockets and enough electrolytes for the expected 6 to 7 hours. (For me, anyway). 

We assembled at the start for a 7:00am start. Numbers checked off for safety, a quick race brief, and then off we go. Having run the short course here 2 years ago where we started in the same place, I was well aware of the 2 short but sharp climbs within the first k and a half. It was a gentle climb to the 2k mark before we descended into my favourite section, one I’ve nicknamed Jurassic Park. A dry creek bed for the next 2k that eventually flattens out at Millers Flat.

I’d been pushing along from the start, not totally hard, but enough that I was keeping myself honest. Followed a runner (Megan) through Jurassic Park until just before the end when I knew a more runnable section was coming up. Walked/ran through here, crisscrossing the creek bed as we gently descended. But that was short-lived, a turn left seemed to take us on another creek bed odyssey! Running gives way to rock-climbing, scrambling, and swearing. The last one, I’m guessing, is not solely restricted to me.

Scott Orchard, long time follower on Strava.
He is all cleaned up after a fall on the first night.

I was keen on holding onto the age-group 3rd place. Knowing it was due to get even hotter, the plan was to see if I could put as much time in between us as I could. I didn’t fancy being able to compete in high temperatures. Approaching the trail where we would turn right, I was sure I was in 2nd place. Not really looking to push up the placings, but I was wondering where the other runner was. Within 5 minutes, I had my answer: passing me on the trail heading towards our 1 and only aid station. As he passes, he turns and asks if I’m a master (60+ runner). “Yes, I am”. He introduced himself as Robert and thus began a bit of friendly rivalry as we would often be there or thereabouts on the trail together.

Spot the runners!

A few ks later the front-runners in my event came past, heading back towards the climb. Moving well, all of them  giving us encouragement, “Well done”, “Keep going” etc. Such a great thing, the camaraderie on the trail. We may be racing, but that doesn’t mean we don’t/can’t acknowledge everyone else.

As I’d run this section (albeit in reverse) in April 2021, I thought I’d be familiar with it. Nope. Completely forgot the long river section with all the sand. Such a shit to try and run in, I just hiked hard through here, hoping the slower pace was offset by the saving of energy. I was utterly mystified that I’d come through here only 3 years ago. (Note: I went back and read my blog from 2021 and sure enough, I talked a fair bit about this river section. The mind, hey?)

Just north of Standley Chasm, it looks green and verdant, it must be heading towards Jurrasic Park.

It was good to see the other runners, gave me a boost and put a pep in my step. Finally came into the aid station about 5 minutes earlier than I expected (so really, on time), and was good to stop, have a chat with the vollies, and fill up my water. I still had a bit of food left, so no need to graze off the table, not much I wanted to eat either. I’m beginning to think I need to have more savoury food along for these types of runs. Head back out, lots of runners heading towards the aid station, a few chats and hellos to friends. Soon enough, the sweeps come past and there is no one else around until we rejoin the trail where the Namitjira runners are coming out from. 

Brett Godden, leading the charge in the Namitjira.

A few ks before that, (having questioned my life goals as I trudged through the river bed), I once again questioned life goals when I managed to line up a rock and give it one almighty bloody kick. I hasten to add I didn’t mean to, it just happened. Trailing leg came through and lined that bastard up as if I was punting a football to win a game after the siren! The pain was exquisite. Say goodbye to that toenail! I hobbled on for a bit until the pain subsided, then found that it was okay to run on again. Eventually, other aches and pains and fatigue set in enough that I forgot about it.

Hit the climb for the day. I know this from previous events as being the hardest of the 4 days*. But still, climbing is what I usually do best. Although early days into this climb, I seem to be missing a lot of energy. And I suddenly hear voices behind me, forgetting it’s Namitjira runners joining the trail and climbing up behind me.

Stefan; met on the bus, spent time on the trail at 
various points. 

I sneak a look up, people receding into tiny dots the higher they are. Shit, that looked a long way. I could spy Robert high up, his hat quite distinctive. 

I plod on, playing a game of PAC Man as I see a runner ahead, and see if I can catch them, and how long it takes me. The idea is to catch them, then stay with them for a bit, letting them pick the path as I slow for a bit and recover ever so slightly. But, each runner casually steps out of the way, “Oh you’re going much faster than me” (No I’m not), “You’re looking strong” (Not really),  “You go ahead” (Please don’t…). We all have our own race to run and ultimately we are going at different paces. 

Some people stop to sit, eat, drink, and take in the view. I stopped briefly to take photos, but truth be told, I just wanted to get off this climb. I know it has several false summits (more than 2, less than 10 I once described to a fellow runner!), so wasn’t getting too excited when the trail flattened out a bit. A few runners join me and very soon we are at the water point, once again getting numbers checked off to make sure no one is lost and off-course.

Robert at the bottom of the descent.

From here I know it is a short squirt across the ridge, then the gnarly descent down towards Millers Flat and my fave Jurassic Park 😀

I was descending fine, albeit with stiffening legs. I was in control and trusting of my shoes, the La Sportivas holding up well. As it became steeper and harder to navigate, a group in front of me stopped to check the maps. Really only one way down, via this gully and a ‘pick-your-own-path’ to the bottom. I moved past them and then, cramp! In the adductor, the worst possible muscle to stretch out, in the toughest possible place of the day. An ‘Intimate Area-Only’ muscle, as a physio once described it to me. Managed to find where it was knotting, bored the knuckle right in ignoring the pain and got it to release. Sweet screaming Jesus; I was relieved. Keep heading down, it threatens to cramp again, but thankfully doesn’t. I get to the bottom in one piece, Annie Knight at Millers Flat taking bib numbers (she seems to be everywhere this weekend!) and then I head back up the river bed. 

Not many runners around, but it’s so quiet I can hear voices fore and aft, as they say. Quite clearly. Amazing what some people chat about on the trail!

At the bottom of the descent, thankfully the cramps
had subsided, for now...

It’s hot down here, with no breeze, and by now it’s midday and the day is starting to heat up dramatically. I catch a couple of runners, and we exchange a few pleasantries, swear words, whatever. We are all dealing with fatigue and the heat. Made it out of there in one piece and back onto the runnable trail, 3 to 4 k out. One last climb that zig-zags up and was very exposed. Then the final push towards the entrance to the chasm. Catch another Namitjira runner as we passed about 3 families, sitting in the river bed, plates of food spread out for the family luncheon. Very tempting, but I had a race to finish!

The blue arrow shows the 'route'

We go to turn right, off the river bed, and back onto the trail (the chasm further on is a sacred site, no one is allowed down there). The other runner waves me through, “You’re faster than me”. Once again: “Well, no”. But I start climbing up first and then, cramp. Again. Same muscle, same bloody adductor. 

Her: “Are you okay? “Need a hand?”

Me (through gritted teeth): “NOOOOO”.

For the 2nd time, massage out the cramp, then continue on. I catch her as we descend the first climb, just to contemplate the 2nd, and last of the day. It’s a slow and weary trudge up, the twin joys of heat and fatigue. A brief chat with a medic walking up towards us, then we descend to the final path to the finish. 

Arpit, emerging from 'Jurrasic Park'

It’s 400 metres to the finish, but I was not keen on running it in until I absolutely had to. Thankfully the other runner was the same, so we walked down, chatted, received praise from walkers, and generally kept it relaxed until we could spy the finish chute. 

“You ready?”

“Yes”, and in we run. 6:22:38, 38th and 3rd place age-group.

30 minutes after finishing, still sweating profusely, I was sitting around chatting with a few other runners. The post-race debrief, we all seem to need to unpack what we've just done and make sense of it.

One major mistake I made was not getting lunch here, grabbing the next bus back to Alice as I didn’t want to wait around any longer. By the time I got back to my room, I was starving, and not a lot of food in the room. Junk food purchases from the Mecure only partially helped…

Late afternoon light on one of the last climbs of the day 2 course.

Having already sorted my gear into 4 piles (for the 4 days), it was easy to repack after pulling out the empty bags, gel packets etc. Shower, then back down to the pool to sink a few beers and chat with other runners. 

Tonight’s presentation was a combination of the first 2 days, some insane times from the front-runners. We didn’t stay long, most of us heading off early to get a good night’s sleep.

Sunday, Stage 3., Birthday Waterhole turn off to Standley Chasm. 

Up even earlier today (longer drive to the start). Cereal, get gear ready, and head straight to the bus. Our start at the Birthday Waterhole turn-off takes us past the grass fire near Simpsons Gap. Except it’s now in the trees as it roars up some of the lower slopes adjacent to the road. So glad we changed courses yesterday, a nice tick regarding the safety provided by the organisers.

The morning sun rises on yet another day. Day 3 start and it's hotting up.

The start line is 2 flags, 4 portaloos, and not much else except the long, flat gravel road we will run on. It’s mild, not hot, but certainly not cold that we would need to keep jumpers on. The sun slowly peeks its way over the horizon just before we start. I eye off the queue for the portaloos and decide I don’t need to wait. Lets see if that comes back to haunt me 😐

Today's start is a flat 14k on the gravel road to the one and only aid station at Birthday Waterhole. As we head off, I remark how much more sandy the road is this year. 2021 had coincided with a massive rain event 2 weeks before, it probably flattened the sand or washed it away. No problem, only small sections, but already I’m electing to walk these early on. And about 5k down the road I noticed my HR climbing a bit too much. Try to slow down, but HR remains stubbornly high. The only answer is to stop every k, walk for about 30 seconds (good opportunity to refuel), and then run again for another k. A few runners around me must have got more than a bit pissed off as I yo-yo’ed all the way with them along here.

Although a road, in places it was very sandy and soft,
hard going when we just wanted a straightforward start to day 3.

Get to the aid station and make sure I fill up with the full 3 litres and eat a bit before heading off to the next section. Catch up with a group of runners on the other side of the creek wondering where the course goes. I’m sure I know the way having run here 3 years ago (although having forgotten yesterday's river bed section, now not as 100% sure as I would normally be) and point casually towards an information booth just up the track. And sure enough, there is a marker. I am a genius (not really…)

Running alongside another runner, Stefan, for a bit, we are chatting about the race generally, and the current course. It’s fairly runnable along here, once we exit the river bed, and it is nice to have this reasonably easy and straightforward section. We run for a bit more together, until I dive off to the side having spotted a nice copse of trees for an emergency toilet stop. Seems I should have used the portaloos at the start. Sigh.

Reemerge on the trail and nearly get mown down by the first 3 runners in the short course. Forgot the faster wave was starting later. Friend Brett was in the group, running fast. A quick “G’day” from him, and off they flew. I tagged in behind, now feeling much better having toileted, and followed as they disappeared into the distance. I knew the next group wouldn’t be too far behind and I wanted to make as much progress as possible before I needed to step off the trail to let them through.

And soon enough, first group, then another, then another. They were all thankful. After a few more groups I detected the pace was a tad slower, so I was able to slot back in again and keep pace at the back of a group. 

We turned a few times towards the left, then again to the right as the massive of Brinkley Bluff started to tower above us. By now I’m on my own again and the trail starts to climb up. All of a sudden we are on the lower slopes and you can spy runners a long way away on the cutbacks as they close in on the first saddle.

Panorama of runners on the road, heading towards Brinkley Bluff on photo right.

My energy levels were low. I tried to eat as much solid food and gels as I could on the climb, but the damage was already done and I just had to grit it out and keep moving.

Noted on this climb is the massively false summit!! You climb, and it’s hard. Then you drop down a section only to climb even steeper. Cresting at the saddle and gazing at the valley below you think, “Thank Christ for that, now we can get in with it”. Except it is only the respite before the real climb starts. As you look up you can see the runners diminishing to dots as they snake their way up to the top. I knew this was coming (prior experience and all that), but it was still daunting given the lack of energy I was experiencing.

I was worried, I genuinely felt shit. The breeze that was cool and in our faces down below had now swung around slightly and warmed up appreciably. This was no longer fun, and threatening to go beyond type 2 fun. And I know the trail across the top is technical and tricky, not a place to deal with increasing fatigue.

The climb was torture and took an age. Many others in the same state, a lot more than happy to have a reason to stop and let me pass. 

The view from Brinkleys Bluff, is worth the long haul from the valley below.

Finally, oh God finally I reach the top and the massive rock cairn and John Jacoby there ticking off numbers. “That was fun!” I quipped as I trudged past. Gallows humour, can’t beat it. Stopped and took a few photos, the view up here is outstanding and I didn’t want to waste the opportunity. 

Maybe it was the relief of finishing the climb, or maybe finally all the eating was having an effect. As I started off again, I felt much better, even had a bit of run in the legs. This was promising. I’d convinced myself that it was going to be a sodding long day. The breeze was cooler up top, but the sun had a sting to it, and I could feel myself getting uncomfortably warm.

Back on my own again although I could see people ahead and behind. Caught up with a few, a few caught me and although we never really formed a group, we were never more than about a 100 metres away. In a few places along here the trail is not obvious, had to stop and take a good, long hard look for either a trail marker, course marker, or even a well trodden path. At one of these, met up with Christina, a fellow long-course runner and we swapped turns at the front. Chatted a little, but mostly just kept a physical presence as we toiled along the technical trail in the hot midday sun. Good to have company; sometimes it’s not the chat, it’s just to share the magnificent scenery with someone else.

Indication of the trail on the ridge on day 3. Undulating, rocky, exposed.

We are slowly descending as we approach Standley Chasm. A few sections climb, and are fairly steep at that, but mostly we are dropping down from the summit at Brinkley. Come across 2 volunteers. They are 5k out, they say this to us, and I know it’s true, I remember having photos taken here 3 years ago. They are there purely to make sure we are safe and give us some positive words as we come past. It’s amazing how good it is to see them.

5k to go. The ol “just a parkrun to go”. But probably one of the harder parkruns then. We still had a bit of rough and rocky trail to negotiate and the obligatory dry creek bed to finish on (a feature of this event, for sure). This last section was 2k out, went forever and even though under cover, was still pretty bloody hot. I was followed into this section by a Namitjira runner. I’m sure he was just content to follow my lead, navigate when it looked right, run when it was fine to do so. By now I was just fine finishing, I really didn’t have much run left in the legs and watched as other runners came past. Christina, whom had fallen away behind me, now came back again and ran past. My Namitjira runner decides she’s the one to follow, so alone again I was for me.

Hugging the side of the hills less than 5k out from the finish at Standley Chasm.

Turn off the creek bed onto a trail and I know after a short climb, it’s a drop for about 400 metres to the finish. Walk the climb, I could hear voices nearby, not sure if they are runners or tourists. Start to run on the last bit to the finish and take a mighty tumble. Didn’t hit the ground, but that was a near thing.

Finally, finished. 5:28:32 (which was only about 8 minutes slower than 2021, I was surprised).

Happy with that, I thought I was staring down a 5:50 or thereabouts. 44th place overall and I’d managed to grab another 3rd place in my age group. All that remained was to see how long before 4th place came in. Didn’t have to wait long, 34 seconds to be exact. Shit, that was close!

Unlike yesterday, I was not going to miss having lunch here. Prepared to miss the next bus, I managed to miss 2 buses as there was a stuff up with my order. Worse places to stay put at… Bus back to Alice and then the same routine as the day before; shower, pack for tomorrow, beer in the pool. I was feeling okay, but not looking forward to the increased heat forecast for tomorrow.

After the presentations, went out to dinner with JP, Arpit, Andrew Siv, and a few others at an Indonesian eatery in town. Nice quality meal at a pretty good price. I sat next to a girl called Eva, who upon being introduced to me asked, “Are you the Les from the podcast that Cheryl mentioned?”. And yes I was. Long story, short; Andrew Davies had a podcast in the lead up to this race last year, a friend Cheryl was asked to come on and talk all things trail running and my name was dropped, repeatedly, as I’d been a multiple runner here. Small world, Eva is a massive fan of both Cheryl and Andrew. Saunter back to the accommodation and straight into bed, really needing a good night's sleep.

Monday, Stage 4. Ochre Pits to Ellery Creek Big Hole.

Reasonable sleep, it is better than none. An even earlier start as we have well over an hour and a half to travel to the Ochre Pits. Getting out of the bus, we all note how warm it is. Most mornings have had a slight crispness to them. Not today.

Yes, that's me (#71). But this is about Julie (#59, brown shirt). Julie is 17 and about to complete the 
long course, on her way to completing the Triple Crown. That's right, she's already completed both
Margaret River Ultra (80k) and Surf Coast Century (100k). Outstanding. What were you doing at 17?

I queue for one of 2 pit toilets. Not making the same mistake I did yesterday. Just as it seems like we might need to forget it and head to the start line, Sam approaches and lets us know they will delay the start until everyone is at the start line. I was 2nd last getting there 🤣

Knowing today was going to be the hottest and knowing that the last 14k was on a flat, exposed valley floor, I wasn’t looking forward to it. The race plan was to push it along at the start, push up the climb and descend as fast as possible to Serpentine Gorge at the 20k mark. After that, all bets off as it was reliant on how much petrol was left in the tank.

At the start, find myself behind Robert. He was about 20 minutes ahead on accumulated time, and barring a disaster from him, we weren’t going to trade places. His method of starting conservatively and then pushing through the field appealed to me. Also good for me to hold it back a little, a super fast start today would surely backfire. I shadowed him for a bit; it was the revised race plan for today.

Very rocky from the start, we are single file with not much chance to pass, but the pace is fine, no need to worry about blowing up. Nice to seed myself properly. It’s always a lottery; too far back and you get caught behind slower runners, too high up and you feel compelled to move at a pace way to high too early.

Early on day 4, a conga line of runners on the rocky trail. Mt. Sonder is far away in the background.

Just under 4k in, we join the Larapinta Trail and it is surprisingly easy to run on. Mainly flat, very few rocks and many places to pass, or let pass. The crew of runners that I’d started with had thinned out and it’s only Robert ahead, slowly getting further away. We pass the Namitjira start line. There is an aid station here, a chance to fill up, stop for a chat, or just roll on past. 

I can see the bulk of the climb ahead, Coutts Point almost directly to my left, we still had to run about 1 and a half k before we turned up towards the start of the climb. Pass Liz Woodgate taking photos (“At least run for the photo”, I ran for the photo) and prepared for the climb by trying to eat some food. Try, being the operative word, my stomach did a slow forward roll, not liking it one bit. Thankfully I still have gels.

Although the climb is nothing like days 2 and 3, it still packs a bit of a punch. It kinda zig-zags, a bit. But really, it just goes straight up to the ridge. And rocky. Not easy underfoot. It’s a mixture of long and short-course runners snaking our way up and our group of 3 is slowly picking off the back markers as we approach the ridge. 

Counts Point lookout, day 4 highlight.

This is one of the best parts of the course. We climb up to the lookout, about 700 metres as all the runners in front of us are heading back down towards Serpentine Gorge. The trail is rough as guts. It’s one thing to focus on foot placement, it’s the other thing to be saying hello to others at the same time. The risk of ankle roll or tripping is high. Thankfully I stayed upright today.

Friend, Caroline. We met through various running groups and trained
together along the way. Always with a smile 😊

The lookout is busy. And for a very good reason, one of the best views from up here, a spine of the West MacDonnell Range spreading out as far as the eye can see. Obligatory selfie, one with Robert, then off I go.

I wasn’t thinking I’d stay ahead of Robert, he had a habit of coming back and passing me, I just wanted to get going as quickly as possible. Heading back down the ridge line, I spied Edmund in 4th place. Quick calculation of about 6 or 7 minutes behind. Game on! Realistically I needed to still be in front of him at least 10k out from the finish (I think, must admit mental arithmetic in my foggy brain was prone to inaccuracies) given the 22 minute gap, plus today's amount.

The course along the ridge is rocky and undulating, but in many places you can get some running in, before it gets too hairy and you risk a trip or 2. 

I met Jason at dinner on Wednesday night. He had prepared very well
for this event, running on the course in the weeks beforehand.

We have thinned right out and it’s a longish time in between seeing anyone ahead that I could catch (either course). Still pushing along as hard as I could, knowing it’s getting hot already and will get hotter. About a k before we started the steeper descent, Robert caught up with me but neglected to pass, just tucked in behind me. We both were descending well; picking the points to run (not many) and the points to err on the side of caution.

A few passed us, but we passed many more on the way down before it flattened prior to the aid station at Serpentine Gorge. Along here I really started to feel the heat and commenced a walk/run strategy. I met Siv and JP on the way down. JP is still managing to be going after feeling many resignations about not being able to finish the event.

Descending towards Serpentine Gorge aid station. Feeling okay
and in control here. It would all go to shit later on!

Got into the aid station at 3:28, (only about 10 minutes slower than 2021), but I felt much worse. The plan was to fill up all flasks and bladder, drink a bit whilst here, and try and eat, the latter I was having difficulty with. Still, I wasn’t in the same boat as one runner, she’d taken a fall on the descent and was having a bloodied face patched up by medical. 

Satisfied I was right to go. Get my pack checked for mandatory minimum fluid, then head off up the road, trying to chew some fruit and half a sandwich. JP has caught up and headed out with me, he is travelling okay, as well as any of us at this point on day 4.

Heading away from the aid station, I begin to feel a bit shit again. Sun? Heat? Lack of food? All 3, I suspect, but I still have a way to go and need to stay on top of things.

Another runner, Reid, caught me. He knew I’d run this before and was asking what the next 12k was like. I mumbled, “mainly flat, a bit technical, gunna be hot”. Not the most detailed of replies, I reckoned he’d work it out later on!

Ran a bit more until the trail popped out onto a slight ridge. The wind is blowing, it feels cool and hot at the same time. By now I feel crap even drinking electrolytes, switch to the water in my bladder (ooo, lukewarm and plastic tasting!) and spray a bit on my buff and put it over my head, hoping that it cools my head a bit and protects my ears.

Stumbling along a few sections where seams of iron protrude. Funnily enough, I probably need iron, although not inserted under the kneecap from a trip.

Start thinking about food, real food. Not helpful.

Regular readers of this blog (and a hardy lot you are, waiting since 2022 for this entry) will recall my issues of getting a song stuck in the head on permanent rotation during races, particularly ultras (See here for the ultimate one-hit wonder). Today not an ultra, but nearly as long in time as one, and of course as the mind wanders off, the vacuum is filled with a song. Today it was an oldie, but a goldie. Ladies and gentlemen say hello to U2's Red Hill Mining Town, a song from their superb album, The Joshua Tree. Now, not wholly unexpected as for some reason I rediscovered this album only a matter of weeks out from the event. But why this song? The iron deposits, mining, a song about a mining town? Those are the links in the chain that I now recognise had fallen into place in my brain as I staggered along! Oh to be the jukebox of jumbled thoughts that is my brain in a long-distance race! It lasted about an hour, then as mysteriously as it appeared, it disappeared.

I’m drinking lots, but not really sweating. I’m hoping that’s because it’s so dry, not because I’m severely dehydrated. Most of this section is just a blur. Writing this now it’s just a series of random images as my brain had withdrawn to the core; left foot, right foot, drink, repeat.

It is blisteringly hot, no shade, and the breeze is just hot. Bumped into Arpit at the stile (we all had to climb over it, don’t you remember?) and we briefly chatted as we carried on. He is feeling trashed, as we all were.

Yep, gone to shit. Couldn't even be arsed running for the photographer.

2k out, and just as I thought I might once again take 3rd place, 4th place comes running past. Inevitable, really. I was almost at a standstill and he was still strong in the latter stages. I panicked and tried to stay with him, then realised there was no way he was pegging back 22 minutes over me in 2k. Not unless I trip and don’t finish. Thankfully sanity prevailed and I decided to cool my jets and walk it in and take in the surroundings.

Sometime back along this horror stretch (for me, at least), I’d decided this was definitely the last time. I’d achieved what I set out to do and was happy to finish on a high. Sure as shit I’ll get FOMO next August, maybe reading this back will convince me why I won’t be there (maybe not!).

The last section is another fucking river bed. Christ, I’ll be glad if I never have to struggle through another one soon. Photographers on the far side, lining up that all-important shot. Normally I’d pick it up, and run for the camera, but not now. Now it was just conserve that smidgen of energy for the final run to the finish line. In fact, I was exhibiting the symptoms of heatstroke, or heat-related conditions. Cold and clammy, goosebumps, light-headed with an approaching headache. This last section was such a struggle, but I trotted down and got to that finish line and that finish line photo. Finished, hunched over sucking in breath as I try to recover as quickly as possible.

But, when it's the finish line, make yourself look a million dollars 🤣

Ellery Creek Big Hole looks inviting, but also looks cold as a polar bear's bum. It’s both as I dive in, fully clothed. It punches the air out of my lungs, but that is just fine, I need the cold water to get my core temperature down, it feels high and I feel less than 100%. Food (sausages, onion on bread rolls) and more drinks, I have quite the thirst!

Robert finishing, similar finish line style to me!

Bus on the way back to Alice, having a nice chat with a fellow runner, we are glad we’ve all got through without any major issues. The aircon not working on the bus, so on it went in the unit when I got back, first time all weekend. Shower, more food, quick pack of the bags before heading home tomorrow, then a brief sleep before presentations tonight.

Presentations: a celebration for all the podium places, but really a celebration of all the runners who come here to run this event. Not all will finish, every year someone fails to complete a day (and consequently, the event) because of a mishap. No guarantees on this course. Andrew and I sit next to Rachel (50-59 female Malbunka winner), share a few drinks, swap stories, and generally unwind.  Do the rounds of the tables, trying to catch up with as many people as I can, knowing for most we will never meet again. But still nice to have met, if only briefly.

Some ask me that perineal runner question, “What’s next?”. For most people, it’s rest then some race a number of months away. For me, it’s going to be Wonderland 20k in The Grampians in 6 days time.**

Finally back off to bed and catch up on the lost sleep of the last 4 days. 

Leaving Day

At breakfast: Why do I have an unquenchable thirst?**

On the plane: sit next to someone coughing and sneezing. Praying that I don’t catch it, but in a plane, it’s all bets off.**

Myself and Brett, awards night.

It was good to get home, unpack, and not live out of a couple of suitcases.

After a period of hindsight, would I do this race again: Yes.

Will I do this race again: No! A promise is a promise 😀

* Excluding climbing Mt Sondor. Never climbed it, so I can’t compare.

** Somehow it all conspired against me; caught the cold, at a low ebb after the race, and throw in a mild case of heatstroke and there was no racing in 6 days time. There was no running for about 10 days as the body needed to rid itself of the cold and regenerate after racing. Why do we do this to ourselves?

Finish line at Ellery. So good, but so cold.