Always The Sun

Every year our RD (Rohan Day and Race Director, it's all in the initials) prays for snow on race day.
Every year we runners pray for the opposite.
2015, mild and dry
2016, wet, cold with rivers where trails once were, and
2017, cold after overnight rain, wet trails and snow last 36k runners and the sweeps.
Roll on 2018 and what are we served up with? The 'zero bragging rights, zero excuses for a failure' of near-perfect weather. Disappointed indeed...

It's hard when you've been talking up the mandatory gear list and the 101 reasons for carrying it, when a bluebird day greeted us. Churlish? No. But I wonder what we can expect next year. Oh and I will be there next year, the year after that, and every year until the bitter end.

A Bit of History

Wonderland 20 and 36k events run on the Sunday are quite often the focus of the weekend. Many more of us travel to run those 2 events than the 2 and 8k events on the Saturday. But it is good to remind ourselves why the Saturday events are important. Firstly, they introduce many runners to trails. How many young kids running either 2 or 8 will grow up to be our next Australian rep or a budding race director for a new or existing trail race? Secondly, Halls Gap is a bit of a drive for well over 90% of the participants and volunteers. Such a great way to encourage the family to not only make the trip but to run and/or vollie. As such, this event has become a favourite on the running calendar, most of us already pencilling a prospective date for next year and grabbing all the best accommodation around the place.

Pre-race carb load in Beaufort.

My history with this race has been documented before, no need to go over that in detail. But in some respects, I always felt I had a point to prove with this course. It has everything; rock clambering, some decent climbs, stunning views from up top, beautiful single trail, a fabulous flowing downhill (on the 36, c'mon you 20k runners, you know you want to do this!), and a final 14k section that whilst being a bit of a grind, is also very runnable and a great way to test the speed or endurance (depending on how well you've smashed yourself across the top.

Race Weekend

Nicky had decided to join me this year. She came up in 2016 for the rainy shitfest of a weekend and quite possibly vowed never to return. At the last minute, our friend Rachel also decided to come up. They would both run the 8k on the Saturday, and then go off and do their thing on Sunday as I ran my race. As I was volunteering on Saturday afternoon, we left early to try and get there for lunch. And that we did. A few hours to spare, we all checked in at registration and I tried not to smoke the credit card on merchandise and food supplements (just succeeded, just…). A quick bite to eat and then I was off up the track to marshal for the kids 2k run.

(Before I headed off, Dave from Colbric Medics stuck his head out of the First Aid tent, waved and said hello to me and mentioned that he'd book a place for me for tomorrow. Cheeky sod!)

Race start on Saturday for the 2 and 8k events.

I was at the 1k mark, directing everyone across the bridge and hi-fiving kids and adults alike. Kids were great; some slapping my hand with gusto, some barely flicking the fingers, others just giving me a sour look and folding their arms. To be fair, I've volunteered at races where adults have done exactly the same thing. Finally, the sweeps come through, but they've de-marked the course of ribbons. It shouldn't have been, it was the first k of the 20 and 36 courses the very next day. No problems, myself and another vollie grabbed them and walked back and re-marked. Somewhere along here I remembered that a friend Tony O'Connell was sweeping the 36 course, and one of his duties would be to remove the ribbons from the course. Now far be it from me to say Tony is short, just not as tall as me. So I cheekily chucked a few high up in the trees; having to jump up, grab the branch and peg the ribbon so that it hung tantalisingly about 2 and a half metres in the air! Unfortunately, my practical joke was all for naught as it was the 20k sweeps who de-marked this section, and it was the lithe, long-limbed Nicole Paton who had no problems through here. Bugger…

Rachel and Nicky after finishing the 8k.
Photo credit: Nicole Walsh

Back at the start-finish line again, and now volunteering for the 8k race. Many runners who would run on the Sunday were running this event (some also rocked up with their kids for the 2k). Nicky and Rachel were dressed and ready to go in their Baw Baw Runners tops, looking very chipper indeed. My role here was handing out medals at the finish, as well as giving the podium placegetters a card that alerted them to time, and attendance for prize giving. That all went well until after mens 1, 2 and 3 came in, I had to wait for the first 3 women to finish. You'd think that would be an easy task, and it was as I knew 2 of the first 3 women. But before my friend Kerry ran into 3rd place, a young (under 10) child finished. A mop of curly hair, tied in a bun at the back. Being young, the voice hadn't broken. You are probably guessing where this is going… No-one near me who can tell me how many females have placed, my mind in a whirl trying to think through this, I just hope the poor lad wasn't traumatised by my attempts to determine his gender. It was such a relief when Kerry finished and I could hand her the 3rd place card.

Nicky and Rachel finished in 54 minutes, quite a good time on this course, both happy enough with their runs. The sun still shining, even though the temperature was dropping, it was still a picturesque sight in Halls during the late afternoon.

Saturday night out for dinner with other runners from my local running group, Baw Baw Runners (BBR). Running the 20k event were Paul, Catherine, Dave and Leonnie. Another BBR Gines was running the 36 with me, but not dining with us. The conversation turned to running (no surprises there), and about eating and drinking before an event and how to avoid the dreaded early race pit stop. Shane Winzar from LTR was sitting behind me at another table with his family, but unable to contain himself added his observations on this illuminating topic.

Home by 9, spent the next 30 minutes sorting through gear and placing it piles on the floor in our room so that I could grab it all in the dark the following morning and not disturb Nicky.

Myself, Nicky, Rachel, Leonnie and Dave from
 Baw Baw Runners.
Photo credit: Nicole Walsh.

Race Day

Unlike previous years, it was dry. But quite cold. The alarm went off at 5 so I could get up and eat at least 90 minutes before the race. To not disturb both Nicky and Rachel I attempted to do everything using my phone torch app. Not easy, but I managed to cook my porridge, toast some bread and brew a strong coffee. Then it was get dressed in the dark and wait around for the time to wake everyone up and head to the start line.

Before the race, calm but a tad cold.
Picture credit: Nicole Walsh.

Never one to get really nervous before a trail race, but even by my standards, I was very relaxed. Focused, but just ticking over the time before we headed off. Dry gear bag dropped off in the hall, chat with a few friends, wish them all the best etc. then head over to the start area to get ready. Caught up with other BBR's ready to run, quick photo then into the start chute. Chatting with friend Karin and she asked me what time I expected to do. I paused, then told her I was hoping for around 4:30. And in all seriousness, this was the first time I'd really told anyone that time. I'd thought about it prior to the event, wondered if I was capable, but kept it all to myself. I've made bold predictions before but then seen them dissolve in a sub-par performance.

More photos and then countdown (Matt Bell nearly missing the start…) and we were off.

Always up for a selfie with Caz!

Climb to Pinnacle

Some people went blasting out of the start area. Not sure whether that was nerves, over-enthusiasm, or a need to get in front to avoid bottlenecks on the stairs and climbs. I was content to run a very comfortable pace in the early stages. Been here before, know the course can trash all and sundry on the first 2 climbs, and it's 20 or 36k, not 5….

Sure enough, first stairs were slow, other steeper climbs were at a very casual pace. It wasn't until we were a few k's from The Pinnacle that the runners started to get some distances between them and we were able to run our own pace. Then you would get to another hard section and close up again in an attempt to hold the pace and maybe pass a few people. Met a number of friends on the way up here, all of us remarking on how great the weather was, and even though cool it was nice to run in.

Early in the race, and loving the scenery as we run through some spectacular areas.
Photo credit: Supersports Images

Hit the Grand Canyon and we slowed up again. Nobody really frustrated here, we all just kept moving and respectful of each other's needs. By now I can sense we are near the top of this climb, I'm going well, time to the top similar to last year. And that was the plan, easy across the top of both The Pinnacle and Rosea, then push the pace on the sections beyond if I had it in me.

View from The Pinnacles Lookout. Fog and/or low cloud in the adjacent valley.

As we approached the top, I passed Stuart Hughes. Not sure if his recent race in Western States was still taking its toll on him, but he ventured that he was struggling a bit. Knowing Stuart he would put in a solid 2nd half performance and probably catch me along the way. I stopped at the platform to take a few photos of the view, cloud and/or fog in the lower valleys outside of Halls Gap, and then continued on my way.

Descent to Rosea Carpark

The descent of Pinnacle isn't hard, but you need to pick your line to run and trust your footing. Falls here can be catastrophic. The sun now shining on us, the temperature was a few degrees warmer and very comfortable to run in. A few rock scrambles later we hit the single trail on the way to the next aid station. By now numbers have thinned out, and it is only a few others around me as we ran. Felt good here, it was nice to stretch the legs out and actually doing some consistent running after the climb. Most of this was downhill, which is an added bonus. (Although it does mean we then climb again later…)

Hard going on some of the stone steps. Trying not
to go arse up in front of the camera #focus
Photo credit: Supersports Images

Hit the aid station at Sundial and I ran through. Still had heaps of water, hadn't even had a gel at this point and we are over an hour in and around 7k (such was the slow pace of the climb). A quick wave and thanks to the volunteers as I ran through, and then started the climb towards where the 20k runners split off to the left. Thought I was hallucinating at this point, could have sworn I saw an undertaker on the side of the trail. But no, it was just Rohan Day chatting with the marshal here! He called out to me alluding to the fact I was still going and not to repeat 2015's aborted attempt. I assured him I wasn't going to…

After the split from the 20k runners, it was down to 3 of us climbing up before the descent to Rosea carpark. Didn't realise it at the time, but fellow VUR Amanda Meggison was up ahead, I followed her as we climbed, taking the opportunity to have quick drink and a quick breather.

Through Rosea carpark aid
station.
Photo credit: Warwick King.

Hit the descent to Rosea carpark and I was content to tuck in behind Amanda. She descends better than me, not hard really, I'm pretty crap at descending. At one point a runner comes up behind us, descending faster. Trail etiquette dictates that you call out if you want to pass, he did. Then promptly took 2 steps, tripped and hit the ground, at pace. We had barely slowed when he bounced back up, dusted himself off and continued on his way. I was reminded of the difference between trail runners and Brazilian footballer Neymar's histrionics at the recent World Cup. As we approached Rosea carpark aid station, I ran over the spot where I rolled an ankle in 2015. Barely registered this year, just a memory.

Climb to Rosea

Friend Warwick once again dressed up for the occasion was volunteering here. I asked if there were toilets here (couldn't remember from the race notes), as I was a bit desperate. No was the reply, bugger was mine. Nothing to do but run on and hope I make it to Borough Huts before an accident occurs (too much info?). On the other side of the aid station is a gentle climb. Previous years I've walked a fair bit of this, but feeling stronger I decided to run as much as I can, knowing that it gets steeper and less likely to be any running on the final climb to Rosea. This is what is commonly called douche grade hill, enough to know you are climbing, not steep enough to justify a walk. It went on for a bit, probably a k and a half before we turned hard left and commenced the hardest climb of the day. Now, 10.5k in around the hour and a half mark and the rock hopping commences, again. There are some sections you can trot, probably last about 50 metres, then it's clambering again.

I take the opportunity to have my first gel of the day. I was carrying 2 gels and a cliff bar along with some sports drink and about 1 and a half litres of water. I might have overdone the water, it was a bit of weight in the pack, but I didn't want to have to refill the bladder for a 36k race, just sports drink flask (much easier and quicker).

Looking south towards Dunkeld region. Climb to Rosea summit.

Nearing the summit of Rosea, views looking north.

As we climb, the views behind us towards Dunkeld and surrounds come into view. Another stunning vista, I stop for a photo. In doing so I lost track of the 4 guys I was following. Most, if not all had indicated they were running Wonderland for the first time. I hoped they wouldn't get lost across the top. Despite near perfect conditions, sections of trail here are hard to follow. PWS markers missing or faded paint on rocks makes it a bit of a lottery in places. I pushed a steady pace up, aware I was a bit faster than previous years but keeping it in check knowing the final 14/15k from Borough has always been my nemesis in previous attempts. Close to the top and I started to catch a few runners. Some are being cautious, some are stopping to take photos, and possibly rest breaks, others are confused by the trail.

Descent to Borough Huts

Precariously close to the edge, Rosea.

Eventually, we summit Rosea then start the descent. Firstly on lots and lots of rock. The trail twists and turns, you have to crouch down and clamber through rock crevasses, jump down off metre high rock ledges and then occasionally you get some running again. Only to have another section of rocks. But, it's fun. It keeps you guessing, you have to focus intensely to stop accidents, and there is really never a dull moment across here. There is one final rock staircase to descend until we hit the single trail 5+k descent to Borough Huts. A runner behind me, we get the legs working again, slowly picking up the pace until we are going fast enough to stay in control. We don't say a word, just head down and enjoy the run down. Picked up a few runners down here, and then had 2 come barrelling past me 2k out from Borough. 1 of them the guy who stacked in front of me (I'd passed him climbing Rosea). Blood streaming down his leg from his knee to his shoes! A k out from Borough my quads were feeling the descent. I peeled back the pace and cruised into the aid station.

Borough is always my fave aid station. And it didn't disappoint today. Friend Nicole and her friend Jacqui were dressed up in Alice in Wonderland themes. Nicole helping me with drink refill and telling me I looked in great shape. Actually, I felt pretty good. It is 21k to there, a good ol fashioned half mara, albeit a pretty friggin tough one! But previously I've got here, felt like shit and then had a shit run back to the finish. I was a bit fatigued, I won't lie, but I still felt I had plenty of running in the legs. A quick pick of a few lollies from the table, downed a gel (only 2nd of the day) and then headed off down the road and into the single track that takes us to the trail/road around the side of Lake Bellfield.

The Long Flat(ish) Road around Bellfield

Along this track, came up behind another VUR, Jonathan Ennis-King. It wasn't until we turned off the single trail and on to the road was I able to run up beside him. We'd bumped into one another on Rosea last year, so it was nice to have a synchronous moment. This time further along, about 7k further along. Having a chat as we ran about respective years, what we were both doing Surf Coast 100 and that if we kept the pace up, sub 4:30 was on the cards. After Jonathan said that I took a sneak peak at my watch, we were running between 5:15 and 5:30 pace. I was a bit surprised, but the straight and flat road allowed us to settle into a groove and it wasn't until the first of the small climbs along here did he put some distance between us.

Travelling well, smiling.
Photo Credit: Supersports Images

The first climb along hits about 27k in. Some call these a 'pinch'. This is more a slap in the face. Just as you've settled into a nice rhythm, the legs suddenly feel exceedingly heavy, the HR spikes and you are reduced to a walk. I'm still picking up runners along here, not so much on the flat sections, but any climbing I was able to hike faster. There are 4 or so small climbs on this section after the big initial climb. We are approaching the northern end of Lake Bellfield and the dam wall. Soon the trail descends towards Fyans Flat. I vowed not to look at my watch here until I reached Delleys Bridge, just run and get it done. Legs starting to feel the fatigue, but I'm still running.

Passed a friend, Steve just before the drop to Fyans. Bent over heaving his insides out. Sports drink, litres and litres of the stuff. He'd felt ill most of the race. Finally, it all came up. Nothing much I could do except tell him to just get some water in and continue on. (He amazingly finished not too far behind me).

My hand isn't patting his bum, it's a trick of the perspective of
the camera, the photographer was lying on the ground,
somebody help me here...
Photo credit: Supersports Images.

I forgot how long the descent to Fyans was, seemed to take a long time until I hit the flat grassy areas. Previous years it was like running through a swamp. This year basically dry with occasional puddles. Caught up with a few of the runners I'd been climbing Rosea with. Stretching out cramps, some fatigued and walking. Now about 31k in and I ran past the aid station here. Plenty of food and water on me, I just wanted to keep running. Stopping would arrest momentum and make it hard to get going again. Photographer here, just as I caught up with LTR Aldonio, as I ran past. Hit the single track back to Delleys and just put the body into automatic, get a pace of around 6 min/k and hold it on the flats. Walk most of the hills, but otherwise kept going until I could hear the traffic crossing Delleys.

Warwick and Jacqui with me at the finish.
Photo credit: Nicole Walsh.

35.2k on my watch as I crossed the bridge, 4:19:50 elapsed. You beauty!!! Knowing it was just under 1 and a half k to the finish, I knew I could get in under 4:30. That last section is on a bitumen footpath, hard on the legs in trail shoes after a punishing race. I felt slow, in reality, I was holding mostly 5 min/k and under for large sections. Passed Nicole Paton, sweeping the 20k with a few runners in front of her. Turn the corner and the main street is in full view. There are crowds lining the run in, friends and random strangers hi-five you and you do feel like a rockstar/elite athlete finishing.

And then it's all over. Warwick, who was up at Rosea carpark, is now back down at the finish and hands me my medal, which was a nice repeat of Saturday where I'd done the same for him in the 8k race. Watch says 4:27:26, a whopping 23 minute PB. I could not be happier. Nicky was there to see me finish. She takes a few photos and then I go in search of coke, and smash down 3 cups worth. I was tired, fatigued but feeling very good. Usually, I can't eat for at least an hour after one of these events, but within 20 minutes I was searching out coffee, then a large lunch of bacon and eggs at Livefast cafe.

Caught up with my fellow BBR's and they all finished, some not as happy with their result as others. But already there is talk of coming back next year.

Aftermath

It's taken me a few days to realise just how well I ran that course. It's had the better of me on all previous occasions. I won't say I bested it, always feel there is room for improvement; what drives me on, to better myself. Stronger, faster.
Running along Bellfield, Jonathan had asked me what was my best run this year. I gave it some thought and said Duncans 50k. It was the first ultra I felt I nailed a great time and a great result. An hour and a bit later having finished here and I have to admit that it is now replaced with Wonderland. The result is not wholly unexpected, I've been training well, very consistently and keeping injury free. But race days can throw up many unexpected issues; food and or drink disasters, injury, just feeling not right after a bad sleep etc. But on Sunday it all came together.

That finish line feels!! Absolutely delighted to go under 4:30 for this course.
Photo credit: Supersports Images.

On reflection, the race should have been the last try out of nutrition for SCC. It didn't work out that way, and I'm trusting that I will be right on the day. Main thing knowing that I can stomach solid food, because over 100k I will at some point need to eat solids, having been sick of sweet liquids and/or lollies of some description.

And now I need to look after myself, attend to a few niggles, and plan ahead for SCC100 on Saturday 15th September. I'm in great shape, positive mental attitude and looking forward to the challenge. And it's really only 20 parkruns, back-to-back. Or so I keep telling myself.

PS, and in a nod to my friend Michelle Edwards who always post "Things I learnt.." in relation to her races. Things I learnt at Wonderland, never shake Michelle's hand if she's been racing with gloves on.

Until next time...

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...