Faded

Over every mountain there is a path, although it may not be seen from the valley.
Theodore Roethke

4 years in a row I've run here, 4 years of running the 30k and getting to know the intricate details of the trails. But this year as race ambassador and in my year of ultras, it felt like time to step it up and do the 50.

Heading out on the 2nd loop of 20k. Still rocking
and rolling here. (Photo credit: Tan Marie)

Lead Up

4 weeks prior, I'd run Margaret River Ultra, 80k. The idea was not to run too much between now and then, emphasis more on recovery as I had plenty of miles in the legs. As the event neared, I considered that I had recovered well enough. But racing is only the ever way to find out.

Once again I decided to stay overnight near Macedon so that I didn't have a long drive at stupid o'clock before a major race. Ate out at the Victoria Hotel in Woodend on Saturday night with Cameron and Megan Wood and Byron Lester. Nice chat, a good meal and a pint of beer to relax the nerves. I was feeling fine, recovered from recenmt racing and still in good shape. My only issue being a grumbling ankle that was a part increase in mileage and possibly not enough downtime on the feet. I also had severely injured it in 2014 and wondered if that was a potential reason. Stopped running a few days early in the last week, a parkrun gently jogged on the Saturday morning seemed to help it. But still, I was going to tape it up for race day.

Race Day

Race day dawned cold and foggy up top. I arrived around 6:30, parked the car and grabbed my gear to head to race registration. Standing around in the dark and the cold chatting with friends, not really making any move to get ready. Basically, I didn't want to get out of my warm clothes and into race kit! Brett Saxon came past to say hello and then launched into his race brief. No surprises for us. But when he finished, we had 10 minutes before race start, and I didn't have shoes on, hydration vest sorted, watch started etc. It was a small race against time, fighting a rising tide of panic as one by one everybody disappeared from the registration area.

Made it to the start line with a few minutes to spare, only just securing my vest as Brett counted down from 10. And then we were off.
As I said before, I've run this race 4 times before in 2014, 2015, 2016 and again last year. Without going into too much detail, this was how the first 30 unfolded for me.

• Kept it nice and easy for first 5 to Camels Hump. Dark under forest cover on a rough track that is chock full of rocks and tree roots.
• Camels hump in fog (see picture). Was great seeing everyone fly back down, shouting encouragement to us hiking up. We all did the same when we ran down.

  

  Pretty much the view from any vantage point for the first few hours of the race.
  Camels Hump lookout at 5k mark.

• Cross Mt. Macedon Road and climb the path towards Days Picnic Ground. run across here and then the lovely section around the Sanitorium Lake and down to the first major aid station. Choccy and fruitcake here.
• The slippery road down to the bottom of our crazy climb was not as muddy as in previous years. Still, I got so out of control I had to run straight into the bush on the side of the road, much like a car on a safety ramp on a mountain pass!
• Crazy climb up, met Tilly Peppers, a quick stop for a selfie, then clamber up the beast.

Tilly and I at the start of the crazy climb up the muddiest section, 11k mark.

• 12k aid station, more choccy, and fruitcake. plus a few potato crisps, then head off into the Pines. Much better through here than last year!
• Back out onto Baringo Road and return back to the same aid station. Another gel, more snacks and then head off to run down a fab piece of single track that leads back to Hells Hole Track. 15.4k in, 1:50 on the watch. Feeling good, certainly better than last year.
• Hells Hole Track is actually a gravel road, probably closed during the wettest of winter months. Straightforward along here, just run the downs and flats, hike the one hill.
• After 2 hours and just over 17k's we come out to the start of the climb over Mt. Towrong. In previous years I've either belted through here at a rate of knots or ambled. This year it was a little bit in between, move with intent whilst holding it back.

The fog was just lifting from Macedon Ranges as we summit Mt. Towrong.

• Mt Towrong is always tough. The track just beyond the summit towards Anzac Road is rocky, the trail hard to follow and difficult to run on without tripping, rolling ankles etc. Last year pulling out my camera for a photo I dropped it, face down onto a rock. Thinking lightening doesn't strike twice, took it out again and trusted to fate!
• Anzac Road represents the lowest point on the 30k section. From here it is basically uphill to the start/finish area. A few runners are still around me, Tilly still just behind as we hit the reservoir on our way to Zig Zag. 
• Zig Zag has tall forests and ferns, very wet through here. It is a hard graft up here, but the scenery makes it easier to deal with. Tilly finally gets past me 1/2 a k before the 22k aid station.
• I get to there in 2:49, very much within my expected time. Stop for a bit of choccy and some potato crisps. Continually snacking, but not overdoing it like I did with the choc brownies at Tarawera.
• Jason Williams catches up with me here and we share the road heading up towards Sanitorium Picnic ground. The 21 and 30k runners are heading the other way. Many hi 5's and call outs, great seeing so many people out supporting this race.
• Around the lake, still more runners streaming past, all keeping left for the 50k runners. We all shout encouragement to each other as we pass. 
• The single trail beyond Days Picnic ground also has a fair few day walkers. It is very busy but thankfully no incidents (that I'm aware of).
• Lost Jason at Days, unscheduled toilet stop! 
• Cross Mt. Macedon Road and head back towards Camels Hump. The 10k runners are coming out of the main path and heading for the lookout that we were at 3 hours, 15 before. 26k+ and the climb uphill to start/finish area continues.
• Belinda Nicholson flies past me along here, on her way to 2nd place in the 10k, setting a cracking pace on the trail.
• Catch Jason again and we run/walk pretty much the whole way into the 30k mark. After 3 hours and 50 minutes, I arrive back at the start line. Interestingly, this was only 1 minute slower than when I ran it last year as a 30k race. And I was completely stuffed then. This year, yeah a bit fatigued but otherwise feeling in good shape.

Beyond The Infinite

Never having run the back 20 at Macedon, I strode off from the aid station at a measured pace. Crossed the road to the carpark and nearly ran down the wrong path. Jason was just behind me and we both had a chuckle. Headed back the way we came to get back on the Macedon Range Walking Trail. A few of us retracing our steps towards Memorial Cross, then we headed down the steep muddy, rocky section on the shady side of Mt. Macedon. Made a mental note down here re the trail, we would return in a few hours time, probably much worse for wear.

Hoods Track, 33k mark.
Worth the entry price alone.

Jason caught up with me again down here, and we caught a few runners on their way down, one girl in road shoes shitting herself she was going to stack on the way down! Peeled of MRWT and onto Hoods Track. And what a lovely surprise this was. Nearing midday and the sun is shining in dappled shafts through the wet foliage. The track has a carpet of leaves in places and along with the sunlight, reflecting off the leaves, it presents a magical view up ahead.

Most of Hoods Track is gently up, run bits, walk bits. As we are walking a runner comes up behind us and we give him encouragement for running past. He says, "Don't worry boys, probably get round the corner and puke my guts up!" We continue along here until we hit the softwood plantation and descend towards Clyde Road. Jason and I are still together, discussing all things UTA (Jason and his running group had just taken a few runners up there 2 weeks ago).

Hit the aid station at 36k in 4:42 and I decided to run through, first one of the day that I did. Energy levels were still good, but I was wavering into that dangerous area where I don't feel like eating or drinking anymore. Cross Cameron Road, and then the start of a long downhill section. The first part was pretty cruisy, but then the descent angle increased, the trail became rocky and it was hard to find a good rhythm down here. Hard left onto Chute Track and then the fun really begins. The track (or road as it is wide enough for a truck) is badly rutted and rocky. And every now and then, a sharp steep descent that smashes the thighs appears, leading up to a just as steep ascent. Legs are definitely feeling it now and not just fatigued, but a little bit sore.

Jason has slowly moved ahead, alongside the potential puker from Hoods Track. Back on my own again after nearly 2 hours, but I was okay. Mentally still in good shape knowing I still had a good couple of hours to go. 2nd placegetter in the 42k event came past along here, looking strong on the flats. I try and keep him in sight for as long as I can, but eventually I have to concede he is way too fast. 37/38k's in and the tough course is taking its toll. I'm travelling along more on mental strength than physical strength and wondering how long I can do this.

First tunnel approach, more aqueduct than a tunnel.

The 40k aid station was a welcome sight. I'd caught up to another runner and we ran in together. Good to see a friend, Mark here. Having ultra runners at aid stations, they know what you need and how to read your face when the going is getting tough. I ate some chocolate and got my soft flask filled up with electrolyte. It had been warmer running down here than during the first 30k and I contemplated taking off the thermal top I was still wearing. But 5 minutes after leaving here I was feeling cool again.

Don't be fooled by the light in the picture, it was quite dark
in here. And negotiating those steps was fun!

This is the section that leads to the tunnels under the railway line that runs past the boundary of the park. Mostly road, mostly downhill but it seems like the biggest slog ever. Another runner comes up behind me just as I'm catching a runner in front of me. We are about 50 metres apart as we come upon another small aid station at the 44k mark. I stop, grab some water and just reset, physically and mentally. I acknowledge to myself that I am physically spent, and mentally only just hanging in. Margaret River Ultra was 4 weeks before, but I wasn't giving in to the thought that I had not recovered. This was just a tough as course, and even though I'd paced well early, now I was running on very little. just get it finished, in any way possible.

My 'Pennywise The Clown' moment.
Don't look into the deadlights....

My friend Sabrina was there, having already completed the tunnels loop and was heading back towards Bawden Road. She looks in good spirits, always does!

The trip through the tunnels was a bit of relief. We only run through these sections if the ground is dry enough. There is water in parts of the second tunnel, a nod towards its purpose of funneling water into the top end of Kitty English Reservoir from the other side of the train tracks.

The first tunnel has steps that go up in our direction. It is very dark and I use my phone torch initially to scan the path. Then turn it off for a bit of atmosphere, and pick my way carefully towards the exit. Halfway through this tunnel, a VLine train rushes past and the vibrations in there are quite telling.

There is a small section of trail, about 400 metres, then we approach the 2nd tunnel. Later on, a friend told me they have exceptional acoustics. Sing away in there and you are a Pavarotti, or anyone famous with a half decent voice! Exit the 2nd tunnel and then climb a short section of road back to the aid station set up on the side of the road.

2nd tunnel to cross back under the railway line.

The run back to Bawden Road on the course profile is predominately down, before a final climb to the aid station. But my memory is of some running, but just as much walking uphill. Maybe I'm not remembering the good parts... I just remember it taking a bloody long time to get back to a familiar trail. The same runner I'd caught before the 44k mark, I've caught again, and we hike up the last k's, chatting away about the run, our legs, but most importantly how we'd managed to keep going.

Back to Mark's aid station, now officially the 48, 49 or 50k* aid station. A quick stop and then we both head over the road, climb the stairs and start on the solid 2k climb back to Memorial Cross. It is up here that the real struggle begins. And not just me, most people I spoke to afterward had real issues grinding their way up here. Apart from a few small sections of trail that were relatively flat, it was all up, and up, and up, and up.

Usually, a course profile exaggerates an incline. Not here, I think...

All I could do was walk up here. even then there were a few sections where I had to stop, stretch out the legs and take stock of everything. Families and groups were hiking down from the top (sensible), and probably wondering what the hell these people were doing. After a long 36 minutes of climbing, I arrived at the path that leads to Memorial Cross, and the scene of the start some 7 hours before**. I still had to negotiate the trail around the back of the tearooms, up past the comms towers and down to the finish line. Another 1.4k's. I ran as much as I could.

And after 7 hours, 21 minutes, and 24 seconds I finally crossed the line. I'd estimated before the race that anything between 7 and 7:30 hours would be a pass mark, and I was happy to have achieved that. But geez it was a tough gig to get there. I was given my medal, photo taken and said hello to a few friends who were still there. I went in search of my dry gear to get some warm clothing on. Mid-afternoon and it's already getting quite cold around the start area.

I waited around for a few friends to finish, and was mildly surprised at the number of runners that came in behind me. I could have sworn that I was a long way back, but no, close to mid-field. A large hot coffee later I was dressed, warm and on my way back down the Calder Freeway to Melbourne.

On the way home, dealing with cramps whilst driving, stopping for food as I was finally hungry, I wondered if I'd do it again. Of course I would, who am I kidding.

The Rest of the Year

Training

A few 50k+ runs in training, 1 on hills, the other reasonably flat. Surf Coast Century is not particularly hilly, so I'm expecting a fair amount of running. Training plan for SCC starts June 18th and hoping to average around 70k a week. At least 3 runs a week specifically targetted for quality, the others to help build strength and resilience in the legs.

Races

• Trails Series Westerfolds long course (possibly)
• Trails Series Silvan Dam long course (possibly)
• Wonderland 36k, and
• SCC100 on September 15th.

Until next time...

* The run is officially 50k, this aid station 2k roughly from the finish. But depending on the course (whether we do the tunnels or not), the course can be 51 or 52k's!)
** Usually in the last 2k's of a race, particularly an ultra, the pace you have run over the preceding k's doesn't change much. Not at Macedon 50. At the bottom of the climb, I was averaging 7:54 min/k. 2 and bit k's later and it's blown out to 8:19 min/k. And I'm probably not alone in that.

Go West

(Go west) in the open air 
(Go west) where the skies are blue 
(Go west) this is what we're gonna do 
(Go west, this is what we're gonna do, go west)
Go West - Pet Shop Boys

Sometime in 2017, Margaret River Ultra popped its head up like an adolescent meerkat. At first, I discarded it with the classic east coast thoughts of too far away, too costly etc. All the time paying airfares, accommodation and so forth for Tarawera (NZ).

Then, I won a free entry (to it and to Surf Coast Century). Excited, yes, but it was with a restrained air of someone who was understanding of budgets, time off work etc. etc., whilst still in the process of paying for my time in Tarawera (See where this is going?)

Several well-meaning and lovely friends (henceforth known as 'enablers') also expressed a desire to 'Go West'. Group chats, messages, "If we get a group it will be cheaper", all were designed to 'enable' me to take the plunge. I had a free ticket, I thought "Why not just enter. It's free. If you don't make the journey to WA, no problems, nothing lost at all". Informed my wife that I'd entered, giving her the previous reasons of free/nothing lost/it's just an entry.... She favoured me with one of those spousal looks that conveys everything, and nothing.

And then finally the hammer blow of the Qantas Boxing Day sale, and the realisation of just how cheap you can head to the sunny blue and gold expanse of our western state. Margaret River Ultra, here I come!

Wednesday 2nd May

The real start of the story is here. Tegz Angel, Vfuel Aus supremo had asked on our group chat if he could get some banners sent to a business (rather than residential premises) as they were late leaving printers in Sydney. Cheryl had apparently volunteered me. Don't remember that, must have been very subtle. They duly arrived at 1:00pm, in a large box for me to carry back home on the train. Next trick was to pack them all in. They'd been nicely rolled but were too long to put in any of my suitcases. Another suitcase grabbed from the stash, and I carefully folded them, taking care not to have tight creases etc., and packed other loose light items around to avoid them moving around. It was going to be an extra $35 dollars for the extra bag, I didn't mind and would deal with costs with Tegz in WA.
Finally around 10pm I was satisfied I'd packed everything in my bags. Too late if I'd forgotten anything.

Thursday 3rd May

Early start, walk the dog, breakfast then catch my normal train to Melbourne but getting off at Pakenham. Dan and Fiona drive me to the airport, an earlyish start to make sure The Monash Freeway doesn't stall us. On the way in try to check extra luggage in, too late. Need to do it at the airport, where no doubt it will cost extra and take longer to do. We decide to grab all the banners and stuff them in Dans oversized sausage bag. All the extra stuff then gets rammed into my bulging suitcase!

On the plane on the way over to Perth.

Check-in (suitcase still under 23kgs, just...), and catch up with Cheryl and Chris. The flight took just on 4 hours but was uneventful. Arrived just after 2 WA time, coffee, grab hire cars and then head south. Curry in Bunbury, then I drive to MR. Found the accommodation no problems, we all move in and choose rooms. Chris and I wait up for Tegz and Kellie, still flying in from Madrid after Kellie did Madiera Island Ultra Trail the previous weekend.

Friday 4th May

The house crew: Tegz, Fiona, Dan, me, Chris, Cheryl and Kellie.
Photo credit: Cheryl Martin.

Woke up early, still on Vic time. A bit of breaky, head into MR for shopping and coffee and just generally lounge around. Short run on the trail at White Elephant Cafe provided a taste of the trail here, and a means to burn up some nervous energy. Kellie reported that there was a beach further on with soft sand. 24 hours later I'm walking this beach with a wry smile!

In the afternoon we go down for race registration, gear bag drop and dinner of pizza and a pint of local beer at the Cheeky Monkey Brewery. Meet up with lots of friends, VUR's etc. A fair bit of banter, nervous laughter, but we are all in good spirits.
Back home, prep for the morning and off to bed for the standard piss-poor pre-race sleep.

Saturday 5th May, race day

The alarm was meant to go off at 4:50. But at 4:45 the race tracker beeps on mine and Chris's phones to remind us of the race. Like we actually needed that? I stagger out of bed, stumble around and get changed. Breakfast is homemade Museli, Berocca, toast and a strong hot coffee. Everyone else is up, even those running relay legs later in the day. We pile into 2 of the hire cars and head for Hamelin Bay (along with a load of other runners by the looks of the car convey on the road). I'm slightly nervous, a bit wired you might say. Not able to concentrate on anything other than thinking about the run ahead of me. I'm not fazed by the distance, I've done the training, done the prep, but you never know what can go wrong on the day.

Cheryl and I minutes before the start. Cheryl is an 'enabler' for some of my running exploits!
Photo credit: Cheryl Martin.

It is dark, but there is a faint glow on the horizon as we approach the start line. Car parking was chaotic. We just got dumped by the road as Fiona had to drive back out and find a park somewhere else. Gear on, head towards the beach and see the start line for the first time. The light is definitely better, but the wind is blowing firmly on shore. I'm freezing, having elected to leave a warm jumper at home. Lots of other runners are in long leggings, arm warmers or long-sleeved shirts etc. I thought it would get hot later on, had gambled on that in fact.

Milling around before the start.

Started the tracker o my phone, then moved into position with 5 minutes to go. And by now the nerves are really starting to kick in. Just want to get going and get it done. Cheryl, grabs Chris, Dan and I into a group hug to thank us for our friendship, and wish us well on the trail. Emotions go through the roof, I try hard not to shed a tear. (Would have explained it as high pollen count, WA being famed for its wildflowers…)

Hamelin Bay (Start) to Boranup Campground (CP1)

3, 2, 1 and go. We head along the sand, up the short jetty and through the carpark towards our first section of trail. Finally off running, we are able to relax and ease into our pace. Chris Langmead is with me, we have agreed to run together for his first leg. There are many runners around us, chatting, a bit of banter, even a bawdy joke as we approached the 1k mark! (The punch line was worth the wait). Some of the banter is with fellow VUR's Chris Wright and Shaun Moore, discussing what we've ordered for food at checkpoint 1. Very soon we start climbing up a rough section of trail. My first walk, need to conserve the energy early on.

Leg 1 is a mixture of road (bitumen), trail, rough track with some constant climbing. Eventually, after running through a section with lots of low growing shrubs, we came out to a vista of sweeping land with the sun still low in the sky. Conditions couldn't have been better. On the climb up I have left Chris L behind, but that was ok. Before that, I would periodically check back on him. He was doing brilliantly, on the comeback after 2 years and it was for me the perfect start to the day.

Course deviated around the top of a sand mine. Our
first taste of sand for the day. Not the last.

At the 9k mark, we came across the first sand of the day. This was a late change to our course as it ran through a private property, a sand mine no less. Stop for a photo, climb up the sandy road, then bomb down the other side. A quick check of my watch, right on schedule to do 1:20 for the first leg. Back into the bush again on some downhill single trail then we can hear the PA at CP1.

Run in right on 1:19. Fill up drink bottle with VFuel, grab half a banana and some oat slice and stand around bantering with Chris Wright. Actually, we were both taking the piss about food not being there for us. (About an hour later as I replayed this, I suddenly hope that no-one overheard us and thought what a bunch of wankers these bloody Victorians are!). I waited for Chris L to arrive to hand over to the next runner. He came in a few minutes later, puffed but clearly elated to be running again. A quick toilet stop, then off again.

Boranup Campground (CP1) to Contos Campground (CP2)

Leg 2 was touted as the best leg, and it didn't disappoint with firm, formed tracks through the forest. I caught up to Chris Wright again, running with his client Matthew and runner #2 Magda. Ran with them for a while before I pulled away. The plan through here was to run very conservatively, save it all for leg 3 where the 4k of beach was. But the running here was too good to just loiter.

13k mark a girl in front of me trips, hits the deck then bobs up like a demented jack-in-the-box to prove she's just fine, thank you very much! I caught up with her later and we have a chat, she is actually fine, just a tad embarrassed. 15k mark I trip, hit the deck, try to roll over elegantly (and sort of succeeding) and run on. No damage, although a few days later my left knee is sore and stiff.
By now we are starting to thin out. Relay runners come past at pace, but there are still little groups of solo runners travelling through the forest.

It doesn't get much better than this. In the Kauri forests of the south-west of WA.

Came out on a road where the Kauri forest is dense and tall. It is breathtaking, and I slow down to take it all in. Easy to take it for granted that these places still exist in Australia, and I was privileged to be able to be here and experience it. Around the 22k mark, the trail descended gently towards Contos. I stopped for a gel and water. The sun was climbing in the sky, but we were still protected by the canopy. I was worrying what it would be like when we hit leg 3 and the exposed sections. 27K mark the trail hit Contos campground, and then abruptly turned right and headed uphill to CP2. This was the only 2-way section on the course and you get to see faster runners speeding downhill as you walk up. Quite a few runners giving us encouragement as we climbed, made a note to myself to do the same when I descended.

3 hour 22 mark I crossed the timing pad and entered the transition area. I wasn't really sure what to expect here. Knew I hadn't made plans to see Chris or anyone else here, so I stopped, gathered my thoughts and then headed towards the food table. Michelle Edwards, the 3rd runner in Chris's team immediately jumped through the fence and came in to see if I needed anything. I'd only just met Michelle the day before, and was a bit taken aback, but accepted her help all the same. She filled up my soft flasks (both, this was a long leg and potentially slow with the sand) and my water bladder. I grabbed some oat slice, savoury shapes (oh that salty MSG goodness!) and a few bits n pieces before heading back out.

Contos Campground (CP2) to White Elephant Cafe (CP3)

On the way down I did indeed repay the encouragement to those climbing up. Saw Chris Wright, Magda and Matthew as they climbed up. Chris ran over for a hi 10, I obliged but later on thought that could have gone terribly wrong (think potential headbutt, carnage… 😂). As I got to the bottom of the hill another runner in a VUR shirt was turning up towards CP2. We spied each other and started chanting; VUR, VUR, VUR… Probably annoyed the shit out of everyone else, but we had a good laugh as we crossed paths.

The climb out from CP2, and the first heat of the day hits as there is little shade.

Leaving the two-way section we started to climb again on a rough bit of road. Little shade along here and the sun was starting to climb in the sky (10:30ish for me). But when we broached the top, the view was stunning and endless. I stopped for a photo, along with about 20 others then headed off again. I've ticked over 30k and still feeling pretty good. Very soon Michelle catches up with me at the start of her leg. “Fancy seeing you here”, she quips and we run together for a period. The trail gives way to a series of rocky outcrops. Tentative over this, don't want to trip and faceplant the rock. Michelle and I stop to take pictures of one another with the ocean backdrop. Life is pretty good. (Well it is along here).

Others stopped to take a photo of the stunning
backdrop to leg 3.

Off the rocks, onto a sandy, dusty road past the carpark on Redgate Road and then back onto the trail. We dip down then climb back up to the headland. Outstanding views of the beach below as the waves gently roll in from the Indian Ocean. This is a mostly coastal trail, short shrubby plants, prickly and growing partially over the trail. This is also the start of the limestone coast, and bits of limestone poke out of the ground, trip hazards and ankle turners! About the 36k mark, the trail stops climbing and start becoming gradually downhill. I say gradually, it goes up and down, but the downs become longer if that makes sense. Past some limestone caves, travelling in a line of 6 people, 4 of us have or are still living in Tasmania. We chat about our experiences there, laughing at the 6 degrees of separation as some of us knew mutual friends.

Once we climbed, we were treated to some
outstanding views.

By now it is warm, but thankfully not hot. I'm drinking water and electrolyte regularly and having gels and part of a cliff bar every 40 or so minutes to keep energy up. Michelle has got ahead of me a bit, but I can still see her up ahead. We climb a steep rocky section, steel chain on the side for assistance and then one final trail through the bush before we came across the first real sand of the day (leg 1 sand mine being a whimpering pathetic excuse). I knew what was coming, 4k of soft sand, but still my mind was wondering how I was going to go along here. As I descended to the beach I could see people in front of me clearly walking, that wasn't very encouraging…

Start of the 4k beach section. Coming down from the trails
where the limestone cliffs were.

Hit the beach and walked. Sand was soft and spongy, all the way down to the tide line where a gentle swell was lapping the beach. I consoled myself, it was a beautiful day, surfers were out in the waves, family groups were lying on the sand or playing. It was an idyllic spot. So what if I had to walk the next 4k to Prevelly? But, it was tough going. I remembered Kellie Emmerson's tips on sand running (small steps, lean forward, minimise ground contact time etc…). Every time I started to run the HR just told me what a stoopid idea that was, so I walked. But I did so purposefully, striding along in the footsteps of runners before me. One girl ahead of me (a relay runner) decided that the run till ya drop, walk till recovered approach was for her. I kept pace with her for over 3k, each to their own I suppose. I knew I was still doing ok, passed a number of others along here. Indeed, later on, looking at results I'd pulled back 20 places in the general classification.
But along here I started to wonder if I'd misjudged the distance. We had been going for a long time but my watch still only recorded about 45k, still another 3 till CP3. You're shitting me. Michelle still ahead, I couldn't catch her along here. We exited the beach (hallelujah!!) and ran along a road and paved path section, and then yep, you guessed it, hit the beach again. Only short, then around a headland, up a path then bugger me if White Elephant Cafe was right there in front of me. A short run down to the front of the cafe, Chez there greeting me, holding up her hand to point me in the right direction across the beach at the front of the cafe and up the other set of steps. I'd noticed a bandage on her arm, and dark brown spots under her chin and neck, but my mind didn't seem to register any understanding of what that meant. Hell, my mind didn't even register at that point why she was standing there directing me when she should have been at least 4 to 5k ahead of me. Then again, 48k mark of an 80k ultra, my brain was somewhere behind me towards Contos.

Somewhere along the beach section before Prevelly. It looks picturesque. It was,
just a bloody slog to get through it.

Hit the transition area. Chris, Chez and Michelle all there. I'm asked a barrage of questions (Are you alright, what do you need etc. etc.) and they get me sorted. Chez filled me in on the bandage, a stack on the trail, lots of blood and a potential stitching job on the cut. The dark patches being dried blood. I was feeling the need for Coke, of the liquid variety but couldn't see any on the tables. I was also craving potatoes but settled on some couscous salad instead (Melbourne hipsters jokes aplenty over that). Refilled bottles, bladder again, emptied out my shoes thinking how very happy I was to be off the sand. Michelle grabbed me a sandwich, but it was Vegemite so I knocked it back, but she offered me her VFuel gels in return (win/win). After about 7 or 8 minutes I headed out again. Happy to spend time at aid stations if it helps me reset.

White Elephant Cafe (CP3) to Ellensbrook Homestead (CP4)

This was the path we'd run in training yesterday, so I knew what was on offer for the next couple of k's. Nearly trod on a blue tongue lizard sunning itself on the path, nearly shit myself when I thought it was a snake…

Art installation too much for some, modesty
bikini sprayed on!

Through some carparks at the mouth of the Margaret River, onto another stretch of beach and walk across it spying the cameraman at the other end. Honestly couldn't be stuffed running. Consequently, there are multiple shots of me walking in the sand, wry smile plastered on the gob. Over another headland, sandy trail underfoot making it hard to run, and then back down on to another section of beach. Really not loving the soft stuff now… Met up with a Brisbane based runner, who knew of me through mutual friends. Jaimi and I both bitching about the sand, and about how our target times had long since gone out the window and that we'd stopped even projecting a finish time, other than under cutoff. Finally off the beach, but the trail is sandy and soft. We wind our way through coastal heathland and scrub, climbing up slowly to the last highpoint before we descend to Ellensbrook Homestead and CP4.

Cliffs with orange lichen, on yet another beach section!

Jaimi pushed on as I stopped to take in a gel, and a few other runners caught up with me. 55K's in and by now I'm admitting that my legs are starting to suffer, but mentally I'm still very positive. The main thing was not having any more sand to deal with. Hadn't prepared for so much sand, and it was really getting to me. Caught up with another Brisbane runner and we both descend towards CP4 together. Cross a creek that runs out from some rocks, clear pools of water running under the bridge and then seemingly the worlds longest paved path on a trail using domestic paving bricks (Guinness Book of Records candidate). It ran almost 600 metres before rounding a corner and there was CP4.

I was pretty glad to get there, it was getting on in the afternoon and I was worried about the next leg to the finish. Arrived at CP4 to be greeted by Chris, Fiona who'd just finished her leg from White Elephant, and Michelle my compatriot from leg 3. Chris had my drop bag, I grabbed gels and cliff bar and then searched in vain on the tables for a Coke. Red Bull by the truckload, Vfuel Gels and drink, but no Coke… Finally got my long awaited potatoes, and then had some Minestrone soup, the noodles and most vegetables removed. It was great having the 3 of them there helping me out. I was in reasonable shape, but my brain was slowly losing its pizzazz and it was taking me a bit to process thoughts and actions. Not a great place to be. Finally, I feel I'm ready to push on.

Ellensbrook Homestead (CP4) to Cheeky Monkey Brewery (Finish)

Walked out of the transition area, eating some food and getting the legs moving again after standing around. Noticed my left knee was sore, a result of the fall 47k and about 6 ½ hours ago. Skirted the carpark and back onto trail again as we went through the grassy dunes and back towards the beach (again 😞). I was beyond worrying about the sand, it was the same for all of us, just keep moving and get it done.

By now I know that my watch is completely inaccurate in its distance measurement. By how much? 3 to 4 k by my estimation, but trying to work out how short I would be by finish was out of my current abilities. I just continued on, the song playing at CP4 when I went through now on a continuous loop in my brain. Really don't need that shit at this point. I can feel tight spots in my hammy, behind my knee and in my left calf. The prospect of negative thoughts starts to be entertained. So far no cramps, and no real issues apart from the knee that stiffens when I stop. Note to self; don't stop until the finish.

I turn my mind to the task ahead. The last leg is 18k, a mixture of trail types, sandy, well-formed, a rocky scramble in one section and an uphill finish on a gravel road. Right now I'm back on the sand, a short beach section then sandy trails. The cloud cover that was high and very thin around lunchtime is now thicker, lower and there are dark clouds way out over the sea towards the west. A cold front is forecast to hit later tonight, and it doesn't look great. Light is also starting to fade, although plenty to see where I'm running.

Light fades as I'm still on the Cape to Cape track. Behind me the clouds looked thick and dark grey
as a cold front approached out of the south-west.

On my own, running downhill, on the flat where the trail is reasonably firm, and hiking the uphills. A few runners come past, I pass a few others, we all say hello, pass a few comments re the race (the sand understandably being topic numero uno!) and push on. About 11k from the finish we hit Gracetown, a short section through streets lined with holiday homes, a similar feel to SCC100 at roughly the same part of the race. I stop, empty my shoes of sand (again!), down the last gel I will have that day and continue on. A k later running through a carpark on the northern end of the town we are confronted with a rock scramble. Thankfully there are some people up the top guiding us up the best way. Most of us are just more than a little battle weary and look like we don't know what we are doing. Climb up was fine, getting down the other side was a near disaster. Trying to bring my leg around to stand on another rock, a lug on my shoe caught on a rough piece of rock, and my body pitched forward with the momentum. In the nick of time, I got the foot unwedged and got it down onto another rock before jumping off onto the sand below. A few deep breaths, not trying to let the brain visualise what might have happened and keep going. That was a sure sign my legs were getting close to the end of their useful life for this race!

In a few places along here the trail markings are indistinct or a long way apart. As I approached one section a woman in front of me has stopped and is scanning left and right for another marker. I join her in searching, and eventually see one way in the distance, draped over a rock. We run together for a bit as she is a bit unsure of her navigation through her. I have the course on my watch, it's isn't great at a fine coarse level, but will alert me if I go way off course.

A small climb, a short section of trail where it was dark in the melaleucas and then another rock climb up to the top of a headland, waves crashing into a massive boulder in the bay, a 'BOOM' every time a wave crashed in. The climb up is not too bad, but I would have hated to do this in the dark. More trail along the headland, still part of the Cape to Cape walking trail. The light now getting a little dim, the last of the suns rays had disappeared over the horizon a while ago, and I realised that I wasn't going to get to the finish before it was dark. I'd harboured a small chance that I could make it but now realised that was not going to be the case. And it was in the knowledge that I didn't have a head torch…

Team VFuel 1, Dan, Tegz and Kellie (relay team order)
picking up their winnings.

You see, the night before checking in the drop bags, I'd managed to swap CP2 bag with CP4. And earlier in the day I'd totally missed grabbing CP2 bag. If I had, I would have realised the error then and grabbed the torch, if only to give to my crew at CP3. I didn't say anything to Chris, Michelle or Fiona at CP4. Embarrassment, chutzpah thinking I could wing it? I don't know, but now I'm approaching the turn east with 3.5k to go and it is what I would call The Gloaming, more dark than light. This is the start of the long uphill finish on the road. I can make out runners in front of me on the road, and one by one head torches get switched on. I kid myself it's road, I can run on it but when I start I realise the road corrugations are tough to navigate. Walk a bit, run a bit and then realise, it's dark. None of this long slow romantic twilight shit we get in Victoria. It's like a light switch, much like Queensland. One moment it's light, next it's dark. A guy behind me is having problems getting his Ayup going, then when he does it is like the day. I run in front of him for a bit, poaching his light as we zig zag on a section about 2 k out.

It's along this section that I pull out the phone, fire up the flashlight app and check for trail markers. I know at some stage we divert into a property with vines, but in the dark, it's hard to see anything. I message my crew to let them know what is going on. They reply and I realise I have no reading glasses, so message back (I can type blind, as I know the keyboard layout by rote, but can't read. Yep, cock-up!) to get them to call me. Cheryl calls, her first sentence “What the f#@% are you doing out there without a head torch?” delivered in that Glaswegian accent of hers… I mumble an explanation, feeling much like a naughty school kid, hauled up before the headmistress. My concern is either I run over the line without a torch (DNF), or my crew gets caught giving me one (DNF). The result, I'm screwed either way unless I can get a torch on course. Her next statement is “Where the hell are you?” Which was a surprise. Whilst I didn't expect everybody to be glued 24/7 to the tracker, I thought at least most would have some clue as to where I was (Later on found out the tracker hadn't worked all day for me. Almost like I'd never turned it on.)

No sooner had I got off the phone to Chez, and I heard the PA from the finish line faintly through the trees. What a great feeling that is, and I picked my pace up knowing the end was close. As the road flattened out (no more climbing), a marker up ahead reflected in the light and then I saw an arrow pointing left, into the paddock. I could see the glow of lights from the finish area to my left, the PA now much louder and I could pick out words, hear other runners as they crossed the line. Got to the arrow and realised I had to hurdle a wire fence. Even with my leg length, it was a stretch. For others, this must have been the final straw!
Run through the vines, friend Fiona has run out to check on me and runs back with me for about a kilometre. Such a small gesture, but was very lovely having her just sit off my shoulder as we ran back, chatting a bit, but mainly just having a friendly physical presence next to me in the dark. We ran alongside Caves Road, Fiona stopped and let me run on as she ran back and alerted my crew that I was coming in. One small climb as we approached the point where we cross the road and then run back down to the finish. There is a runner ahead of me, and another runner has just caught me. We cross the road, I nearly trip on one of the runners' heels as we jostle for position, then turn right and head for the finish line.

Not much elevation to speak of, but it doesn't convey the nature of the terrain, the sand,
and sections of trail littered with limestone. And that distance is so wrong!

The Finish

There is a sea of light, PA is pumping out tunes, and commentators are calling runners in. The 3 of us pick up the pace, cross a grass area with cars parked then approach the finish chute. One final ditch to hurdle then we barrel down the finish chute. I spy all my housemates at the end, phones out taking photos as I finished with my arms held aloft in celebration. Cross the line, stop running, stop the watch and then think to myself, “Thank fuck that's over!” I was utterly exhausted but extremely pleased to have got through. I find it hard to describe the finish line emotions. Always raw and honest, these emotions sometimes threaten to erupt in tears, hugs to random strangers etc. But tonight it was just satisfaction. I'd missed my time goal by over an hour, but on that course, I'd take that any day. And the watch registered 73k's. I felt more than a little ripped off with that. No fault of race organisers, my watch just recording at 60-second intervals misses vital details on twisty tracks.

And finished. Without weighing myself, but
looking at this photo, reckon I shed about 4kg
during the race. Photo credit: Tegz Angel.

Hugs from my housemates and crew (never quite sure I thanked them enough, never sure I do, to be honest), and then that Coke that I'd kill for just under 6 hours before suddenly appeared before me. Never does Coke taste so good during or just after an ultra. Spent a bit of time catching up with friends before I was hustled back to the accommodation by everyone. It was getting cold and I think they wanted to make sure I was home asap and fed curry.

Kellie and Tegz drive me home, seat pushed way back to stop my hip flexors from cramping. I must have smelt like a wild animal, both of them too polite to comment!

Back at the house, I wasn't allowed to drink alcohol until I'd downed an electrolyte drink, sick to death of electrolytes I managed it anyway. Alcohol warrants sacrifices!

Sunday 6th May

Drink, eat, drink, eat again, yoga, drink eat....

The Washup

I was asked afterwards if I'd trained on any sand. I said yes, but not really 'trained' for this. There was far more than I expected, and it made it far tougher than I was anticipating.
I was also asked if I'd do it again. Still considering this one!
What else did I learn?

1. My use of electrolytes and gels is working. Just enough to fuel, not too much to make me sick.
2. Still unsure that I am eating enough solid food, and early on. I need to try some different foods in training.
3. Training regime is working. By using the ultras I've done as the 'long' component, and using other activities to hone speed and build endurance through constant running, I have struck a good balance for my lifestyle, work and family activities.
4. A crew was vital. Before this race, I had not really thought crew much better than at least seeing a friendly face at a checkpoint. They are more than the sum of their abilities and my needs. I had previously thought I would do SCC100 without a crew. Not now. (And yep, positions available if anyone is interested!)
5. Better care needs to be made when organising gear drop bags! (Maybe #4 could help with that? 😀)
6. The maxim that an ultra is more mental than physical I can now truly appreciate. Long after the body started to give way, the mind kept me going.
7. I couldn't do these without the help of some close friends, and my wife Nicky who allows me the luxury and freedom to get runs in on weekends.
8. If Coke is not mentioned in the race notes as being at checkpoints, bring your own!
9. Distances to finish by spectators are now in units of parkrun. Since when did this happen?
10. No matter which event I'm in, I always come across someone who knows me or knows of me, yet I am completely clueless as to who they are. Apologies if you are reading this, and it was you...

Training will be about managing recovery, ticking over and getting myself to Macedon on June 4th, then start the programme for Surf Coast Century in September.

Until next time...

Hymn Of The Big Wheel

Race History of Duncans

Duncan Orr, was a spirited young man born and raised in Traralgon, Victoria. He developed a passion for long range running and ultra marathons as a young adult, fulfilling a lifelong dream in 2010, running his first ultramarathon in Peru. Duncan was also a committed and influential member of the Traralgon Harriers running club.
Duncan passed away in a tragic accident in 2013 and this event, founded by his widow Anna with friends and family, is run in memory of his life and passion for running.

From Duncans Run website

The race first stated in 2013. Initially offering a 100k, 50k and a 28k race held in December, it changed to late April/ early March after the 2015 event was cancelled because of dangerous bushfire conditions. The 100k was also dropped to ease the burden on what was a small but enthusiastic organising committee, and the 21k introduced, being the first section of the 50k. Building on the success of the intervening years, the 2018 event boasted the largest number of runners, across all events (6k, 21k, and 50k). Talk of returning the 100k event is gathering momentum.
As a local event, it was important that I support it in any way I can. Being my year of ultras, the 50k was always only the ever distance I would do here this year.

My History with Duncans

2017 started with me plowing through a rehab programme attempting to overcome a persistent case of Plantar Fasciitis. A comeback 10k run on Mornington Peninsula proved that whilst I could run, my fitness was somewhat lacking. It was a hot day for that 10k, I secretly hoped Duncans was a bit cooler. Always be careful what you wish for...
A fortnight later, I fronted up at Duncans to do the 21k. I have documented it here (along with the 10k and a 30k race after it). Duncans that day was memorable on a number of fronts. Firstly I was 10 minutes late starting, getting a personalised race brief from Travis, the weather was so unlike the 10k 2 weeks previous, and I learned what a wonderful place Tara Bulga was to run in.
It was the only time I'd run here, previously I'd entered the 2015 event, only to have it cancelled.

What Happened on Saturday.

Baw Baw Runners represented at Duncans.
L to R: Nicky, Carolyn, Linda, Michael, Lea, Matt, Becky, myself, Linda, Sheryn, and Pete.
(Photo credit: Michael Winterton)

Determined not to be late again, Nicky and I set off at 6:05, only to have Google Maps send us on a very odd route. Eventually pulled the car over, stopped and restarted the GPS (just making sure I took the right turn-off from the highway). Arrived at Balook about 45 minutes before race start. Not late, but not ideal. As is customary these days, I know lots of runners at these events. Along with the 2 big groups I run with (Lysterfield Trail Runners LTR, and Dandenong Trail Runners DTR), it was really pleasing to have a group of runners from my local running group in Warragul. Baw Baw Runners (BBR) comprises runners of varying abilities, experiences, and interests. Much like any other regional running group. Through the enthusiasm for trails that a number of us show, many members who have never run them have recently decided to have a go. With mixed results I must add, some courses are not easy by any means. And Duncans 21k is not your average flat track road half marathon! It was great they were there to have a go. And this was my first race running in a BBR shirt, I wanted to make sure it was a good one.

Mark, getting some serious air, back of Mt. Tassie
(Photo credit: Burning Harp Photography)

Changed, toilet (very important), and a quick group photo and then race brief with Travis. Thankfully this year, not a personalised one as I quickly get kitted out.
At 8:00am we were off. 35+ runners heading out in mild but dry conditions. The forecast was for late rain. How late we would find out. Early pacing is the key in an ultra. Too fast and you will surely burn up like an uncontrolled satellite re-entry, too slow and it can set the scene for a long day out with no zip. Conscious about running to effort, I let the group in front of me drift away slowly, so even by the suspension bridge, I was a good 80 odd metres behind the runner in front. But as we climbed back out from the creek, I caught several guys in front, all of us taking turns to run and hike the hills.

First 2k on Scenic Track, the main walking track from the visitors centre, then cross Grand Ridge Road to take a nice piece of single trail to get to Drysdale Road, a 4WD track. A gentle climb before we crossed the Traralgon-Balook Road. I started catching a few other runners along here, I wasn't concerned as I was running comfortably, HR was within a good range (for me). But then I was concerned as I came up behind Stuart Hughes. Normally I would see Stuart at the start, and maybe at the finish, never mid-way through a race. Either I was a. Going out too hard, b. Stuart was taking it easy, or c. I was hallucinating. A quick hello as I ran past and on I went. The next 4ks took us along the wonderful Duffs Sawmill Heritage Trail, a glorious single trail of ferns and wet forest. Through here the first of the 21k runners (starting 10 minutes behind us) came plowing past. Happy to let them go through, get off the trail if need be.

Nicole Vaughan and I, selfie at Mt. Tassie.

Running conditions were near perfect, mild, not really muggy like my last 3 races, and the trail was fairly dry after the recent lack of rain. Exit the forest onto Callignee South Road on our way to Mt Tassie. Less than a kilometre of gentle gradient up this road, but it seems to go on a bit. Last year this was like the descent into hell with the eerie light shining from the gloam, this year we would be blessed with uninterrupted views. 10k mark and we are at the peak at Mt Tassie, the highest point of our run today. Along here I'd caught up with a friend Nicole Vaughan and we stopped to take photos of the view, a few selfies, and just generally take in the good feeling you get from a lookout. Drop down off the back of the peak, a photographer on the bank to our right as Nicole and I run together. We both plaster our biggest smiles hoping they show in the photo.

And now the long descent begins, from the top of Mt. Tassie to the bottom of the road and the chance to pick up some time lost after the initial climbs. The road was good, so I was able to let the legs stride out and cruise down at around 5min/k pace. Caught Nicole again (I'd stopped for water when we crossed the Traralgon-Balook Road again). A quick peek at the watch, revealed that I was about 10 or so minutes ahead of where I was last year doing this as a 21k. Then we hit the bottom, and I knew what was ahead. A long, slow grinding climb with some gradients that just weren't built for running. A few more 21k runners joined me as we hauled arse back up to Balook.

Most of this climb is not runnable at all. Lean forward, sometimes with hands on knees we hiked as fast as we could go. Hard turn left into a cleared area and I could run here, but 100 metres later the gradient climbed again. Hike again. From here for the next kilometre it is mainly hiking. Finally the gradient levels out, still climbing, but I start running again. 21K female passes me, and we turn back onto the trail that leads downhill to Balook and the start/finish area. She takes off, along with several others. My legs not quite up to that speed but I ran down all the same. Crossed the  Traralgon-Balook Road and back onto the day use trails, across the suspension bridge and finally at 2:20 back into the start finish area.

Panorama from the top of Mt. Tassie. Last year, just low cloud and wind howling through the TV towers.

Back to Balook

Ran through the finish chute and straight round to the transition area (not before spying a runner under a space blanket in the recovery position). Nicky came up to greet me, ask me how I was. And honestly, I was feeling fine. Legs were feeling the climbs, but aerobically I was in good shape and more than happy to continue. Spoke to Cecile, asked how Chris was going and was surprised when she said he'd just left the transition area. Stuart Hughes was also just leaving, once again I was surprised to still be seeing him. 

Warwick finishing the 1st loop.
(Photo credit: Nicky Walsh)

Returning after the 1st loop.
(Photo credit: Nicky Walsh)

Changed over soft flask of electrolytes, grab rain jacket from kit bag as the skies were very grey, grabbed some food from the aid station (the Mars Bar slice to die for…), quick kiss from Nicky (sorry honey, I was probably feral at that point) and then I headed off for the 2nd loop of 29 k. I walked for a bit, eating, collecting my thoughts and wondered if one or two of the runners in the 50 I'd run in with would be joining me. After about 5 minutes the course returned to the trail and a started running again. Legs initially a bit lazy, but as the gradient was gently downhill, I slowly gathered momentum and was going at a pretty good pace.

Even though I'd studied the elevation profile for this loop, not having run it was going to be a challenge, knowing when to run and when to hike etc. The first loop was good for me like that. Crossed Bulga Park Road where there was a marshal point and headed back into the forest. The first drops of rain hit me, then disappear again. Lots of logging in this area, and it would have been pretty crappy to walk through here, but it was the start of a very long gradual downhill section, and the pace returned to my run again. A few twists and turns, in and out of some unlogged and fairly undisturbed areas, a beautiful cascade of water on my right at one point providing cool relief over the THIR and the back of the neck. I was wondering where the other runners were, thinking that some of them should have caught up with me by now.

DTR crew before the start. L to R: Warwick, Jennifer, Karin and Diana.
(Photo credit: Jennifer Rickards)

The descent continued, on and on. Only a few occasions did the trail climb upwards, but for more than 90% of the 6k down, it was just plain down. Finally at the 29k mark as the forest closed in and the temperature dropped the trail abruptly came out onto the Tarra Valley Road. And now there was a climb, all the way up beside the road. I was thinking a marshal point was close by, and sure enough at the 30k mark one appeared in the car park at the start of the West Loop trail. And here I bumped into Cecile again, with Chris. One look at Chris made me realise he wasn't having the happiest of days. A shared look between the two of them almost confirmed their concern for him. A quick hello to Chris before he headed off and I filled up my soft flask with water and electrolyte tablet. And it was here the rain belted down. Has done every time I've ventured into the Tarra Valley, why not now?

The next section of trail from here I will have difficulty in explaining, other than it was a complete sod! It was indistinct, to almost impossible to see. So much bark and leaf litter, the trail twisted and turned sharply and if not for the occasional parks triangle marker and event tape, it would have been easy to just get completely lost. And the climb was pretty savage. After a bit, the navigation and gradient were easier and I spied Chris ahead, eventually passing him. He was in his own space at that point, nothing for me to say except a few brief words of encouragement, and I climbed on. I was still feeling good, although the first real signs of fatigue were showing. Legs tripping on tree roots, stumbles that threaten to turn into falls, that sort of thing. I remembered I had a double caffeine shot gel in the vest, pulled it out and downed the lot. It actually had an immediate effect. 

Some of the gorgeous trail we ran on and surrounded by
 stunning groves of ferns. (Photo credit: Michael Cardiff)

Rain still coming down, but lighter now. I was wet through from the rain at the marshal point, I wasn't cold so I left the rain jacket in the vest. 33k mark saw the climb finish and another descent. The trail suddenly went from wide open track, almost 4WD road, to single track, and steep down. The rain had made it very slippery in places and I could see some very impressive slide marks from the runners in front of me. Heard voices and thought that runners behind me were catching up. But no, it was the vollies at the 34k mark. Impressive setup, Ham radio, generator, lots of other electrical devices squished under a marquee. As I approached, the rain came back with vengeance.

Walked out of here, eating half a cliff bar, drinking some water to wash it down, and then run off again. Still on our downhill slog, there was another 5k of it, a parkrun of gentle pace! I was travelling well, still on my own but quite confident that my energy and strength was holding up. But, somewhere along here (don't really remember, lost in the mists of time…), every ultra runners worst nightmare came true. That one-hit wonder of a song that drags itself from the record library of your brain and hurls itself onto the turntable of constant repeat. Yep, couldn't get it out of my head, all the way down here, all the way back up to the climb. Shit, even now writing this it threatens to come back for a repeat performance. And todays #1 with a bullet? REO Speedwagon – Keep on Loving You. Despite the pure genius of the song as a radio-friendly power pop ballad, it has never been a fave. Probably as it was (and still is) played to death. And so it was, after 5 unrelenting k's downhill, through a really shitty forestry area with a graded road that made the clay stick to the tread on my shoes that I came close to yelling out at the top of my voice;

“And I'm gonna keep on lovin' you
'Cause it's the only thing I want to do...”
Turned a corner at around the 40k and started climbing again. Realised that song had gone, “what song, oh that one”, and realised it was still there;
“I don't wannna sleep,
I just wanna keep on loving yoooouuuuu”

The elevation profile makes this look like a beast of a climb, but in reality, it is what some would call douche grade, sharp enough to know you are climbing, shallow enough to think hiking is taking the easy option. My strategy here was to run until the HR either spiked, or the climb did steepen enough to warrant a hike. What I ended up doing was using landmarks to run to, “the second stump on the left, 80 metres”, then walk a bit, “the last piece of pink tape beyond the left fork in the trail”. I knew at some point I had to descend again to rejoin our path from the first loop, just not exactly where.
I was trying not to look at my watch along here, but a quick check of time and a hasty calculation and I thought sub 6hr was possible. My natural inbuilt cynicism decided I was hallucinating or the calc was stuffed, but it spurred me on to keep going. 43k saw the final bit of down. I was still surprised that I was running freely here. Previously in ultras with this sort of climbing, my legs would be fatigued, and cramps threatening to make an unwelcome appearance. But no, all was good. And looking back, I have also recognised that I had very few, if any, dark moments during the race. Here I was, nearing 45k, the last 16 on my own and I was in a very positive frame of mind. Except for that bloody song;

Love this slogan.
When I try to explain at work my weekendactivities, well.... 

“And I'm gonna keep on lovin' you
'Cause it's the only thing I want to do...”
Argggghhhhhhh, just no. Please go away….

Marker tape and a sign pointing right, and a very steep pinch as the trail rejoined the first loop. I turned my watch on to HR for the climb. Partly so I couldn't see the stopwatch and put undue pressure on myself for a sub 6, but also to monitor HR on the climb. It was a carbon copy effort of 3 hours ago, slightly slower but not by much. My watch was set to beep at kilometre intervals, and it was climbing up here that I started to think the course was going to be long. As it levelled out and I was able to run, 47k ticked over, long before I reached the top of the climb, 48k ticked over. Shit, I thought, this is going to clock over 52k at this rate. The over-distance doesn't bother me. You start, you run the course, you finish. If it's 49.5, 50, or 50.5 it doesn't matter. But my slim hopes of sub 6 faded.

Turned back onto to the downhill trail and started walking, slightly demoralised, slightly upset. Watched ticked over 49, and I swear we still had 2.5 to go. But, I thought I was still going to do a significantly good time, so I started running again. And as the pace picked up, I felt good again. It was actually wonderful to still be running this well this far into an ultra. Crossed the Traralgon-Balook Road, expecting to be ushered towards the suspension bridge. But NO! Pointed to my right, and a trail I knew was a shortcut back to the start finish area.

Turn the watch back to stopwatch, 5:57ish showing, and just gun it. In no time I could see the tops of the tents and the finish chute, follow the witches hats around to the left, Dave Sutherland walking alongside with his kit bag yelling at me to just GO GO GO. Turned the corner, finish chute straight ahead and ran down in style, the biggest smile plastered on my face. Stop the watch, 5:59:22. Considering I was targeting 6:30 at best, more likely 7:00, I was over the moon. Travis McKenna had to catch up to me to place a medal over my neck, congratulate me. Michael Cardiff, Shane Winzar, Dave all there, having just finished their race and still getting warmed up and fed. I walked around for a bit, collecting my thoughts, coming to terms with just how well my race went. Chatted with a few other runners, women's winner Nicole Paton and I swapped war stories. Changed, dry, hot soup in my stomach I watched as a number of runners came in behind me. Was really glad to see Chris come in, with Nicole Vaughan. He'd battled hard, but no DNF, awesome result. Presentations of women's place-getters, then Karin and Warwick gave me a lift home to Warragul.

The Debrief

I think Duncan would have been proud to have this race named in his honour. Well organised, a stunning location with some fabulous trails, it now sits somewhere between small rural event to one that is fast gaining a reputation as a classy and challenging run. Add the 100k next year and it will be the full running festival again.

No race is ever perfect, not for me. Always looking to improve, maybe that's what drives me to perform the way I do? But this was as close as I'd expect to do in an ultra. Last year doing the 21k, my watch time was 2:42 (officially 2:52 with the 10 minute late start). This year, 2:20 and I was in much better shape. The benefit of 12 months injury-free training. Maybe I can go faster, certainly on a course with less climbing. Whatever, the confidence boost for 80k at Margaret River in May was terrific. So, for the next 6 weeks, recovery, then build back up for Margaret River.

50k results

"And I meant

Every word I said

When I…" Oh, piss off...

Until next time...