BenRunsPlus

The race that should not have happened. Why? because I wasn’t ready and lacked volume, strength and funds to give the mountains what they demand….respect.

Personal circumstances and lack of enthusiasm left me on very low volume  training. How low? Only two trail runs in months. Some strength work, stairs at work and long runs that rarely even hit double digits. My run streak barely counting as training. I bumped into Tony Smith before parkrun one day and said I had committed to going back to the mountains “Are you hiding an extra 200km a week in training?” “No mate, going to run what I have.” “Ouch, let me know how that goes!” I already knew it was going to be rough and  doubted I would make the finish.

My race plan was stupid and simple, even had a catch phrase.

No training, no crew, no pacers and no drop bags - “I’m gunna die!”

Tuesday - Travel Day arrives and after a stressful start I’m in a seat at close to 2am trying to get some sleep.

Wednesday - I find myself on the floor at Tullamarine airport behind a baggage carousel with an alarm set. After almost three years exactly, I am catching up with my little brother Rowan. We had not ran together since he paced me for the last 40km at GSER 2019. We had missed each other and no matter how the race panned out, catching up was going to be the highlight.

We link up and catch up as we make our way to the illustrious Jucy camper van. A regular Toyota Tarago, with 1.5 full grown men to live inside of it. It was tight, but it drove reasonably well, was affordable and most importantly had us reunited.

We make the nearly four hour drive from Melbourne to Harrietville and set up base camp at the caravan park, which involved putting our bags in the front seats and opening the rear door. Pretty basic. A 5km shake out run up the Bon Accord Spur together to make some mental markers and dinner at the pub.

Thursday – We take our time rising, poke about a little while then go in search of coffee and a 23km  drive to Bright for internet and an extension cord. Jucy didn’t come with a way for us to charge our kit for the race, so off we went. While there, we fit in our streak run along the very full, Ovens River, supplies and prepped our race kit in the park. Lunch was a fluke as we wandered into a boutique burger joint to be greeted by Joseph, a local running legend and all round mountain goat, who cooked us our lunch!

Back to Harrietville for race check in, our gear already pre-checked a week earlier made this easy with just a couple key items, some photos and stock up on some event merch before once again heading to the Snowline Hotel for dinner and WIFI. It’s almost race day.

Friday – 4am the alarm goes off, but we were already both awake. Rain, cramped conditions and excitement has neither of us sleep all that well. We tooled up our kit in the rain and got to the start line. In the dark drizzle it was a hum of anticipation. We move into the start corral and after just a few words from Co-Race Director Matt, we were trotting down the cycleway for the 5km path section to the trout farm.

Rowan and I shoulder to shoulder in our first race together. He was prepared and eager, I was undercooked and jovial as we stayed together for the opening section. It didn’t take long for Rowan to quietly move ahead, and two steps soon turned to twenty as he got smaller and smaller into the distance, keen to hit the first long and infamous climb to the peak of Mt Feathertop. 1600m of climbing single track in 10km. I shared a some trail with his Brisbane friend and eventual winner of the women’s race Jalna.

We passed the trout farm, and I could only occasionally get a glimpse of Rowan as he forged ahead. I settled into a small group of runners and soaked up the vibe as we worked the ascent. At one point all four of us stopping to remove leaches from our calves. Blood free flowing, feeling a bit hardcore already. I would remove at least two more leaches through the race.

The climb gets more and more technical as we spread out and pass the lookout hut and I falsely believe that was the peak, nope…more to come!

I pass a marshal and hit the final out and back leg to bag the peak. The wind is howling as I climb through thick mist, snow drift building to my right side. Runners are coming back down, and I see Todd and Rowan close together. Both looking great as they hurl encouragement my way. I won’t see either again for many hours. I hit the peak and turn back down, detouring to a snow section. I was tempted to try my hand at glissading but I see how steep the drop off was on the other side, and decide those few steps was more adventure than I needed at this point. I could not even see how far it fell away vertically, so I got back onto the rocky trail and made my way back down, cheering on the oncoming runners to hide my grimace of just how painful descending was already. 18km in and I feel the unfamiliar cramp creep in the quads. I expected it to be tough, but this early was a bit ridiculous. I slow down and shuffle the easy bits and walk the more challenging sections.

Forging along the Razorback track I let runners past whom are moving better than I as I start to slide back in the field. First half marathon complete and I’m trying to find an easy paced groove, but that self preservation voice in my head is working overtime. It reminds me how underprepared I am, how I don’t deserve to be here, how badly I’m already doing and if I just turn right down the Bon Accord Spur in a couple km’s it will be over quickly, and I can just crew for Rowan and help him have a great event. The pull to quit was strong. If I had been offered an out right then I would have taken it.

From behind, I am caught by Zoe. We get chatting and she tells me about how she fell in this race once, broke her knee and just kept at it until it was done. She finished this with a broken knee….and here I was having a massive pity party over being slow and tender. The kicker, Zoe says “some of my stops will take a while as I have to breast feed my baby.” Great, I can’t just turn off course in front of this awesome woman and quit. I steeled myself just a little and stayed on course a while longer, hoping the road section would at least let me move ok and feel better. I could quit at the next aid station. Blowhard. The first of very many deals I cut with myself.

At almost 27km we pop out onto the Great Alpine Road section, met by marshals who make sure we wear out hi-vis vests, and also put out headlamps on low beam. Visibility is so poor we can barely see the other side of the road. The marshal says, “2km on the right side then you hit the aid station.” I leave with another gent but once again we soon spread out. I really liked Zoe, but her bubbly and optimistic chat was making it hard for me to sulk my way out of this race, so I didn’t wait for her. She soon caught me and we talked of kids and her baby Winter, called Winnie for short.

Blowhard was busy, the first aid station, and accessible by crews on a bitumen road. Felt like people everywhere. “Do you have a drop bag? I can’t find it” asks a volunteer. “No, I don’t have a drop bag.” I felt a little badass every time I said that. I couldn’t get a hashbrown as the little cookers couldn’t keep up with demand of runners coming past. The fire pit was crowded by people, I took a cup of noodles and stood right back, took my time as I assembled my excuses to drop out here and find a ride back down the hill. I couldn’t think of something solid enough, and I was soaked, so figured I would hobble my way out to the next aid station, put some dry socks on from my emergency bag and quit there, where it would be quieter. A 15km hobble and I knew what that section looked like. I was in for some personal torture if these legs don’t free up. Mt Saint Bernard, The Twins and Barry Mountains await.

I peel out from the aid station and turn left, the road heavy with fog. Something nags at me about the course, and I check my watch as I move down the road, and it shows me drifting off course. I double back to the aid station and asked for directions. A busy volley says, “turn left, stay left and well off the road, you will see the track.” Ok, so there is a track? I missed that part in the runners booklet. I head back out again and stumble into some tape and marking on the ground pushing me left and further off the road. Back on trail I am actually a bit excited, I really don’t like that road section, with almost no shoulder in sections, cars, fog and wind it’s one of the more dangerous parts of the course. I remove my vest and headlamp and get going again. Pushing along with a really low gear and often walking.

As I round a corner, I bump into a photographer getting shots with Hotham in the background, if only there wasn’t so much fog! After about 1km I pop back on the road, disappointed to have to put my vest and lamp back on for more Great Alpine Road running for a further 4km. I make the turn to Mt Saint Bernard and more dirt. 2km of track before the left turn up the no trail section to The Twins.

Amazingly, I can climb ok, a steady hike and my little legs drive me through the scrub, and I catch a lady whom I didn’t catch her name and another runner Tim who doesn’t have the course on his watch. Moving slowly, he works tape to tape. We link up and he follows my lead as I use both the watch map and the tape to find the way to the exposed grass covered peak.

I crest the steep climb and make my way over the grassy top towards the survey marker at the peak, hiking a steady hike but also dreading the next descent and climb. Two tough bits on legs that don’t like me very much. As I head down, I take my time, moving so slowly I am soon caught by Tim and the lady, we work down together. We hear two voices off to our right, off course by a hundred meters or so. We try call them back towards us, but they don’t respond. We forge on ready for the gnarly climb back up the other side to the ridge of the Barry Mountains. Again, climbing I make a little ground as I fight my way up the technical rocky climb. Just how steep and sketchy this is, is really hard to describe. Photos and video just don’t do it justice. Not that media would be any good today with visibility down to mere meters.

I crest, finally and claw my way along the ridge. Certain I’m moving forward to quit at the Mt Murray aid station. Currently 39km in and every step feels like pointless drudgery. The negative self talk is a roar in my head as I find reasons to stop the moment I get to that aid station.

Zoe catches me and we hike along the grassy yet lumpy ridge for a while. “Yay that’s a marathon!” she joyfully declares. I check my watch and it says 40km. “What’s your watch say? Mine is only at 40, maybe I bumped it or something?” “Oh, I don’t wear a watch, I just look at it all the time, so I just go with the flow. It feels like a marathon though.” I laugh to myself thinking ‘feels much further than a marathon to me sister!’ keeping my plans to quit to myself.

The terrain opens up and Zoe has a little run. Leaving me to hobble downhill to myself.

A few more people come past, kindly check in on me as I walk along a faint single track that is just screaming to be run along. I hit a reception cell and my watch reads “RILEY – Good luck dad.” I stop, and take my phone out, read my youngest sons text message. A fire burns as I reply “thanks son, it’s really tough out here.”  The weather is kind enough to shoot a selfie video, I talk of how my legs feel, how a breast feeding mum just dropped me like a stone and how I will assess continuing a the next aid station. In my heart I already know I want out.

I continue at a painfully slow pace down the Barry Mountains, threading my way along a beautiful single track, pulling to the side to let others past as what feel like most of the field rolls me up. Wet feet soaked through, the fun and adventure well and truly worn off. If I quit quick enough I can still get back to the van and help Rowan.

The trail opens up to the track and the aid station is laid before me. At least it’s not raining. A helpful vollie asks for my bib number, “Can I get you anything mate?” “Yeah, some scissors to cut this thing off” as I hold up my wrist band. “Can I get you anything else? This is a really bad place to quit, you won’t get out of here for hours, best you just walk to the next aid station, it’s only 6km, better chance of getting out there”

Well, isn’t that just wonderful news.

My feet are already trashed at 44km, the only saving grace I felt was at least I had revalidated my ultra-distance for the year. Just once. I was going to have to dip into my emergency bag to change shoes and socks to make it to the next aid station with the least damage to my feet. I feel defeated having to touch it when I really didn’t want to, but I was having a terrible day. Fresh shoes and socks on my hooves, a cup of coke and a bag of lollies to go and I was sadly making my way to the next location to drop out. 6km of walking to think of a more assertive way to quit. My brain already paving the way with the best excuses.

This leg was exclusively four wheel drive track, some ups and down but in military speak, essentially and admin move. I shot another selfie video about how that guy was really nice but also really mean to not let me quit. If a car drove past at any point on that leg and offered me a lift, I would have taken it. No doubt. I could hear foot steps in the distance, and had two pee’s along the way with a few moments of clear skies between Mt Murray and Selwyn Creek Rd aid stations.

My mood is still as low as my feet as I wander into the aid station. My mind comparing how in 2019 I got through here in 6 hours (granted it was 42km in the old course) and this year and here I was dragging ass in 11 hours 30 minutes. Lucky I didn’t trip over my bottom lip walking in. My least favourite hill facing me ahead.

I call my bib number as I walk in and get marked off. I wander to the aid table and a nice man asks me if I have a drop bad “No thank you, I don’t have a drop bag” I admit, that feeling gives me a little strength. A young man who I later learn is named Rowan, rolls out his practiced speech offering the aid station wares. He gets to the offer of a cheese toasty. My ears perk up, “cheese toasty you say?” He excitedly dives into the cheese toasty menu, a wide array of breads, butters and cheese to suit most. “So, what kind of bread would you like?” “Square bread please buddy, what ever cheese you have and if possible, an unhealthy amount of salt.” I catch him off guard. “Huh, square bread?” Confused as it wasn’t on his planned list of items. “Yeah, thanks buddy, any kind of bread, it really doesn’t matter to me, but a cheese toasty anyway you make it would really help.

Rowan jumps to action flexing his cheese toasty might. I load it with my own very unhealthy amount of salt and neck the whole thing so fast it wasn’t funny. It lifts my spirits. I look around, there are no crews here and Rowan’s face is beaming as he watches me devour his hard work in a few bites. I can’t bring myself to quit in front of this guy. So, I have my bottles topped off, grab a bag of lollies for the road and wander back out. I can try quitting at Van Dammes aid station. It’s only 25k more, with three notable climbs along the way.

I’m quickly mowed down by a pacer chasing after his runner, they must have been late to the aid station and the runner got going before the pacer arrived. Every crews worst nightmare. He was moving well and I’m sure he caught him quickly. My pace was very slow coming down the first descent. I am caught by a train of gents as we start the scrub fight up Mt Selwyn.

It’s clear there has been a lot of work on this track, 2017 it was a real fight to not only find the way but to also get through the dense bush. This year there was notable clearing and even a faint line to follow.

A bunch catch me, two boys sticking together no matter what, Jon and Dave. Real nice guys who laughed about this very much being type two fun. Also with them were two other gents Chris and another Jon.

They were deep in conversation as we all fought our way over Mt Selwyn. I gave the advice for everyone to try beat sunset over this and the next climb. That would land us on four wheel tracks again and be easier going than wrestling with the bush in the dark. We all made it over both hills and beat the darkness.

Jon and Dave pushed ahead, solo Jon fell behind and I found myself in a steady hike with Chris. We had some interesting and humorous conversation to pass the time as darkness wrapped itself around us. We talked of death, separation, children, happiness and ebikes brought along to group rides. At a steady rate we ate a few miles of track on our way to Van Damme’s, until a long downhill section saw me need to slow down, and the 65 year old, tall silver fox strode away from me with ease while heading down a long track descent. Broken only by a couple of runners already on their way back from the turnaround….40km ahead of us.

 Passing through the valley I start the 5km long climb to the aid station. A very boring hike, and I manage to hike well and catch Chris, Liz and her pacer. Liz and her pacer tell me Rowan has had to get help for his back. Terrible chaffing that needed to be strapped. It was the first time I had even thought he might be in trouble of any kind. I just assumed he was out there smashing without a hitch.

An eternity passes and the lights of the aid station are upon us, a small fire trying in vain to be a much bigger fire under wet wood. 17 hours since I set out from Harrietville. About 11pm. It’s busy with Warren, Todd and another runner heading for home. “It’s tough going up the Viking, but bloody slippery coming down mate.” “Be careful up there mate.” “The wind is howling up top.”

Todd says “I know you like the Viking mate, always talked of it, but it’s F*&ked!” Not a lot of positivity coming from those guys. As they set off, I’m asked if I have  a drop bag, they can’t find it. “No thanks, I don’t have one.”

I peel my shoes and socks off and sit in the mud next to the fire, a feeble attempt to dry them out. I’m offered food and drink while the guys there apologise that the fire isn’t better. The rains wet all the wood. It’s certainly better than nothing.

I put my shoes back on, I stand back. I eves drop on the call about a runner that needs evacuation. A car is leaving town at first light, will be here by 8am to get him out. A very long wait. Chris had already told me he quit with a dislocated thumb and torn leg at 7am in 2017 from the closest aid station to here, he didn’t get out until 3pm. I would be in for a long wait.

Dave and Jon beat me there by about 10 minutes. Dave sees me standing with my tracker in hand, “don’t do it man.” “Nah, I think I’m done man, I have tried to quit so many times, I can get out with the young guy there.” “Just come walk with us, Jon and I are walking really slow. Just hang in there a bit longer. We are going slow, you can tell us about the Viking, you have done it before.”

I look around the aid station. It has just a couple of seats, bums already in them. Not a lot of shelter for an extra body to just lay about. It would be very uncomfortable to wait that long wet. I fill my bottles and agree to go when the boys go.

Liz, Zoe and their pacers had already left.

I push my tracker back into its holder and fill my bottles and set out with the boys. That’s when Dave admits he knows me from Rowan’s 2019 video. We share a good talk, but when one of the guys needs a rest stop, I try push ahead. I realise my good headlamp may not make the night, mental maths says if I take too long, I could find myself on the Viking, in a storm with my back up light. I decided to fight on, if I push hard enough, I can be back in Van Damme’s aid before 8am, safely off the Viking and in a car heading out. At least I made the turn around point.

In that moment, a bright light is coming back, it’s Rowan, cheering and celebrating. He had just seen another runner who said I didn’t look good and was ready to drop. He was as thrilled to see me moving as I was, he. A quick chat and once again, we were separated. I was beaming on the inside seeing him push on.

Only the Barry Saddle lay between me and the talking point of the race. The Viking. This leg was only 10.6km each way, and the gnarly part is less than 3km up and 3km down. But don’t let the short distance make it sound easy. The 5km in took me 2 hours 14 minutes, the five out took 2 hours 19 minutes. Everyone talks about it for good reason.

After the Barry Saddle the climb starts, steep single track to begin with, but only getting steeper, tougher and more technical. Any steeper in some section and it would be an overhang. The trees, roots, leaves, branches and rocks all slick with wet mud from the field ahead. Poles sometimes helped, often a hinderance. 20 hours deep into this and I’m fighting my way once again through the bush, rock, mud and navigating the course, with two way traffic. After the first tough section and before the second one, I hear swearing, screaming and all round pissed off voices, smashing through the bush to my left. Chris is just a head of me, trying to call them back to the course. “This is so f*&cked, the bush just destroyed my shoes.” “Why isn’t this marked better.” Yells another voice. “Where is the f%^cking trail?” declares a third, and well, there was plenty more in there too. Runners seemed to have followed each other off course and found themselves fighting even harder on the Viking. They made their way down and Chris let me past. I had a slither of determination now, not to be caught on here with a back up light. I had been here before and a bad light was a bad move.

I made some ground on him and caught the back of Liz and her pacer as they too were forging along trying to find the way. I offered what I could. “Two km to the summit.” Later when asked again I said “1 km to the summit.” I think Liz must have misheard me the first time, as she didn’t seem too impressed it was still 1km and they stopped for a rest and to take in some calories. I just wanted to bag this peak and kept moving ahead at a steady pace.

Eventually popping out on the grassier section. I can smell woodfire, but can’t see it, that smell of a fire being put out. I make the peak where the red light is flashing away. A turn around sign there and one runner says “Welcome to The Viking.” It’s calm and cool, the feeling of expanse comes over me as I look out into blackness. After transferring some fluids from my back up bottles to my front bottles I turn back to head down behind him.

The descent is as hairy as always. I see Liz and her pacer not too far away from the peak themselves and as I make my way back down, my stride opening as I check the time of day. Hoping I am moving fast enough to beat the familiar blink of my light saying ‘almost done.’ I catch Fiona and two other guys, and we try work together down the treacherous slippery mountain. Fiona and I end up following the two guys down a false trail and lose precious time bush whacking our way back to the trail. My watch taking me the shortest way possible. Liz comes past as I balance speed and safety. Fiona and the guys are left fighting, talking among themselves not hearing me call them to the trail marker. I can’t be caught here on my back up light, so I leave them to it as I see them steadily making their way over. I soon catch the back of Liz again and quietly tag along with them as the trail slowly begins to flatten from mountain to saddle and we hike along, thankful my lamp made it this far.

About half way along the saddle I realise my stride is working ok, as the ladies stop for a quick break I push ahead. For the first time in almost a day, I feel positive. Like I could make some ground before the sun rises. I set a goal to push as far as possible on this lamp.

Before the sun rises, the next storm hits, I pull my storm shell on quickly, and as the morning sky begins to lighten, fighting through the storm cell right over me the cold makes its way inside. My hands shake as I pull my hood over my head, and I do the zip up. Breathing into my jacket for warmth, don’t waste it. The smell is as you can imagine as I have covered nearly 100km in 24 hours in the same t shirt.

Saturday - My mud soaked feet feel like porridge as I trudge along. The steep mountain pounding giving me more blisters in places I had never had blisters before. The strain of the climb causing old injuries to reappear. Knowing that issues won’t get better with time and distance it all starts to fall apart for me. My hike slows to a crawl. I hit a more developed trail, stop to put on my wet weather pants. I’m now in full wets, but wet and not generating heat. The cold is inside, and my hands quiver and I put my vest back on. I am miserable once again. As I walk, I am passed again by Fiona and others on approach to Van Damme’s. I am in before 8am, and I am done.

I have my number checked, I stand by the fire and scan around. The medic truck is gone, the young guy is gone, there are no seats as the storm continues to dump itself on me.

“How long until I can get out from here? Wasn’t there a young guy going at 8am?”

“He left already, soonest you can get out from here is when we pack the aid station this afternoon.”

“Oh man, I just want to go home, I’m so done.”

“Honestly mate, the fastest way out is to walk to the next aid station.”

“I really don’t want to walk 25km in this.” My hand upturned to the rain. I thank them for volunteering, fill my own bottles and set off down the 5km road descent. Pretty sure I did trip over my bottom lip but manage to stay upright.

My body is still wrapped in plastic, the rain breaks for a moment in the early morning light and a wave of fatigue comes over me. I stagger sideways as my eyes close. I think of how much the downhill is hurting my mashed potatoes. My blinks are getting longer as I wander down the seemingly level and flat gravel road. It’s so boring I’m once again falling asleep on the move. My brain is shivering in it’s empty holder, I decide I need somewhere dry to put my thermal on. I have never had to wear it in a race before, but it was now a case of time to layer up or I was not going to make the 25km leg. As I wonder about a place to dress, I look to my left and think ‘why don’t I stop in that big white hut, it’s perfect.’ and as I stare at the hut, I see it’s not a hut, it’s a fern. I laugh, and moments later I see an even better looking hut with walls. ‘oh that’s a good one.’ Then I laugh again, as I realise it’s a guide post. I’m tripping balls for the first time. As funny as it is I also realise I still have about 23km in this leg and kind of need my brain to work. I open my vest and dig out a No Doze tablet, a hand full of lollies, a gel and load up my system. I wash the lot down with VFuel and force myself to shuffle from one guide post to the next. Run one, walk one and thought about what was happing in my body that was good and tried to block the downhill pain.

I pictured the caffeine working, the running generating heat, the sugars filling my muscles. Run one walk one as it all worked for me, I was proud of myself to have got myself moving again. To fight the sleep and problem solve my way out. I felt like my old self. I began the hike up the other side of the valley. The side I fell asleep on in 2017 before East Buffalo Rd. I forced myself to run some more, and my body responded.

As I reached the old East Buffalo aid station location, I removed my wets and had a toilet stop. Two people came past while I was out of view. I got moving again. The rain now gone and the sky clearing. The views were returning. For the first time in the race, I did the mental maths of finish time and distance. I had just under 12 hours to cover just over 50km for a sub 40 hour finish and coveted silver buckle. The edge of impossible. I soon caught Fiona. We talked a while but as we climbed Selwyn South, I made some ground on her and she slid from my rear view mirror.

As I passed over the summit I came across Adrian on the descent. We stayed together a while talking and covered Selwyn together, inching closer to the aid station. I slowed my pace a little as to keep working together. He was moving well but I felt a fire burning to get to the next aid station. On approach to the final climb, I could hear dirt bikes. As a rider myself my ears always prick up at the sound of a bike, but these were close. A few ride past me from behind and stop at the base of the next climb. Pink course markers flapping in the breeze. A runner already halfway up the climb.

Surely not. As the KTM fires back up and hits the climb, tearing past the runner and screaming his way over the top. I keep running right past the other three riders waiting their turn. I keep running, my legs fuelled with desire and some anger. We may not have the park to ourselves, but every rider knows they toss rocks out the back wheel. It’s not like the runners can go a different way. The next rider tears past me, I brace to wear a rock as he bounces over the middle of the track and the bike slides out from under him. He goes down hard on the rock slope. His bike stalls on its side, his mates calling to him, but as I am still running, I get to him first. “You alright mate? First guy to come help you has ran 120km beforehand.” His goggles hanging from his helmet. “Yeah I’m fine, you buggers are crazy.” He fires up his bike as I keep jogging past. Legs raging on fire. His bike fires up, but the slope is so steep he can’t get moving forward, back tyre spinning. He rolls the bike around and descends. He tries again and soon after fires past me as I am about to summit the long grind. Rocks flying. I walk as more bikes come past, another can’t make it and has to turn back before crashing out in front of me.

I shuffle over the top and descend the mirrored side of the hill into the aid station. I still hate the hill but am distracted by more bikes riding the other side. They are coming up from the front and a side trail. It’s hard to believe with a park this big they all choose to ride this track with people on it at the same time. The anger is short lived though, I’m eager to see my little mate Rowan and his square bread.

30 and a half hours after starting, I roll my body back into Selwyn Creek Road aid station with 120km in the pegs. Rowan’s little face beaming. I had an order already planned out for him. I take a few minutes to stop and eat, fill one bottle for the next leg. I notice a few people sitting near their drop bags. It starts raining again, unsure if it will stay around or not, I pull my storm shell back on, thank the team once more and hit the dirt, picking up a few more places on my mission for sub 40 silver. I run the hill out of there as far as my little wobbly Bambi legs will take me. Feet on fire. Next stop, Mt Murray and dry socks.

6km four wheel track hop to Mt Murray. As the sun returns and can actually see it, I decide to stop and remove my shell before overheating in it. I get moving again and wonder if I can hear voices behind me, or if my brain is playing tricks. I force a little shuffling when the terrain suits. Flat or slight uphill and I could run, downhill was tough on the feet and quads, so I saved them as much as possible.

I round a bend and come up on Ash. His head low as I grind up on his six. “Wow, you really came back from the dead!” as I approach his shoulder. He stops to dig into his pack. I ask how he’s doing and it’s clear he is in a tough spot. “Keep at it mate, I’m told you can’t wear the shirt if you don’t finish!” He laughs and gets moving again. After scanning the rear and not seeing anyone coming, I turn forward. I dig the tips of my poles in and drive myself ahead.

As I hit the junction where the 50 and 100 mile courses re-join, 126km in, I cross paths with a 50 mile runner. He must be up the pointy end as he is still moving really well as he heads to bag the Mt Murray turn around point. “Looking solid man.” I say, he says I’m looking good too. Usually, lip service but for the distance I was actually feeling good. A far cry from dawn the same day. I can hear the cheers from the aid station. I plan my stop to be efficient as possible.

As I wheel in, I call my number and find my own drop bag. Socks, lollies to go, swap main headlamp, ginger beer, fill two bottles and get out of dodge.

I open the bag, grab brand new GSER branded socks, stuff the lollies in my vest, neck a can of ginger beer, swap my head lamps and then stare and my still shod feet. Do I really want to see what I have felt since I last sat here. I fear if I see how bad they are, I will lose this momentum I have finally built, however if I don’t change my socks now, I will be pushing into the middle of the night, and they will only get worse.

I get brave, undo my gaiters and laces. Peel the  mud-soaked shoes off, carefully unwrap my soaked socks and ignore all that I see. I tear open the brand-new socks, breaking the rule of no new things race day. A 50-mile runner sitting next to me says, “oh you’re not are you?” I reply “yeah, not a lot of choice, brand new socks out of the bag what could possibly go wrong!” As I spread the GSER socks wide to look after those mangled things I proudly walk around on. Careful not to tear anything worse than I already see. I back the laces off to allow for the swelling and close the ugly mess back up, gaiters on and stand up. I will do all I can to make sub 40. I walk to the water drum, top off my own bottle and hit the road, Jack.

The trail up the Barry Mountains took a very long time to grind up. Seemed much longer than the hobble down yet I was moving much better. My third climb of this exact trail and it seemed the longest yet. 50 mile runners now streaming down, every few minutes they come bouncing down the trail full of compliments and smiles. One dude, bib 566 had the maddest massive smile he could have been in a toothpaste commercial!

I see faces I recognise, including Marc, Jess and Martha from WA as we exchange a quick chat. I come up on a gent in a union jack shirt heading the same direction as me. Runners coming down the trail call to him “Looking great Sarge!” As the big man sweeps his tired frame over a thick horizontal tree trunk, I ask him “Sarge by name or by rank?” and he tells me both. Ex UK signaller, a reservist that served in the Ghan. As I scoot by, I tell him I’m a vet too, ex Australian Army, RAEME boy. I would usually take the chance to share miles with another vet but hanging for conversation was not part of my current mission. My mission was sub 40, so I continued to push.

After what seemed like forever, I reach the end of the range, and catch a glimpse of The Twins ahead, and the steep trail less descent and climb directly opposite. As I approach, I see Tim chatting with a 50 mile runner. I confirm the way with him, and we both start to pick our way down. He tells me he was surprised to see me again and I joke that he will catch me on the descents, I’m still really slow going down. He confesses he wants to really go hard on the Bon Accord, so he is taking his time to save his quads, going to take a long stop at Blowhard. I promised to run hard and make him work for it.

As I pick and choose my path down, I see a woman ahead. I admit she seems familiar but could not place her at the time. I now realise it was Katherine. Long ago, in 2017 we sat opposite for the pre-race dinner. She talked to Jez about local moose on the roads. She was running the 50 that year and won it. We talk that the best way down is the way you feel most comfortable at a pace you feel most comfortable with. We pick and grind our way down, I am conscious I am a little reckless with my footing, I feel my heel blister on my right foot rupture as I finish the descent. The others some distance back.

I pull my sticks out, flick my watch to the map page and start the gruelling climb to the survey marker upon the top of The Twins. My feet screaming at me, I stride ahead, chewing some lollies for a quick hit of energy to get over this beast one more time. Sub 40 or bust. 133km in and 5 hours 30 minutes remaining. Some tough stuff still ahead. With pace as low as 36 minute per km climbing 36% grade, it was going to be tight.

The Twins and I duel once more, I stop briefly before descending the other side to shoot a quick video, a poor attempt to capture the enormity and ruggedness of the steep drop. I fight my way down, relief as I tell myself it’s the final off track descent of the race. I won’t lie, I was cursing the effort as the downhill seemed to drag on for ever, “just let it be done already.” I cry out loud to the openness that is the high country.

I throw myself over and under a tree Jenga section before I step onto a track leading to the Great Alpine Road once more. Poles out, tips in and open the stride. On the fly maths tells me I need to keep my 5k laps under an hour each. 4 hours 40 minutes to get the final 25km done. Easy right? 7km road climb towards Hotham, an aid stop and a killer descent down the Bon Accord. 10pm finish was going to be tight.

I thump along the track and come up on two people walking and talking. It’s clear a 100 runner and his pacer. A brief chat about getting it done while powered by snakes. I am now so focused I am driven to push the effort as hard as I can sustain. As I round a bend at a shuffle there are another two gents hiking. I keep the shuffle going, the pressure on myself to keep moving as fast as I can on the terrain underfoot. I shuffle past them, and they give me a cheer as I again pay thanks “lets just get this done gentlemen” and I press down to the bitumen.

As I pull up on the roads edge, a car drive past, a guy hanging from the window “hey ya wanna beer hahaha.” no, not really champ. A runner passes me from behind, weird as I had a pretty good clip on, but it was a familiar face from 2019, this year running the 50. Andrew. As we throw our hi vis vests on, we exchange a quick chat about NZ and 2019 before he presses on with his much fresher legs. The only runner to pass me since my body woke up at 8am.

I consider what’s left. The dreaded bitumen, a long grind, small trail, aid stop, then 2km grind again. The Razorback Trail, then drop down the Bon Accord for home.

If it was down or flat, I ran it, if it was a long climb, I ran between guideposts to break up the hiking. My hammies sending me cramp signals when I was long striding uphill. I had to be careful to keep that in cheque. I ate and drank my way along the road. Side stepping when I could hear a car coming. Visibility much better than the way out, but still no where to go if a car wandered too close.

After nearly 4km I spot the right turn to go around Blowhard hill and take the single track, thankful to be off the road. A click later I’m jogging down the trail into Blowhard aid station. Rubbish in hand and plan in my mind.

I hand off my rubbish, two bottles and have my collapsible cup at the ready. “Hi, two bottles of VFuel and a cup of coke or ginger beer please.” and a runner next to me says “Where did you come from? I haven’t seen you all day?”

“From down the back mate, I think I was second last going into the Viking, was a long day yesterday.” “You must have passed at least twenty people!” and I reply, “I think so, maybe. I really don’t know.” I drink my coke and stow my bottles, eager to get moving. I ask the other runner Chris, “ Do you want to shoot for sub 40?” he looks at his watch, “nah that’s not going to happen.” “Ok mate you have a good day.” and I turn to leave. I was keen to have someone to work with, but he seemed resigned to take it as it comes. I only had eyes for that stupid silver buckle.

A cheer from the station as I roll myself out. A minute later I hear another cheer as Chris leaves behind me. I run the flats and hike the hills, closing on a runner ahead over the 2km section of bitumen. Determined to reach him before the Razor Back Trail turn. As I reach him, I see him look back, he doesn’t seem bothered and I realise it’s because Andrew is in the 50 mile race. We stop after the timing mat and remove our hi-viz vests, I take a drink and  a few lollies fuelling for that last long 16km bomb down the spur.

We chat as we get moving. He is moving well, and I tell him I have a goal to go under 40, we do the maths together just over 2 and a half hours, seems like plenty of time. The alpine rocks though are killing me, the sharp rocks and trips and stumbles igniting the pain sensors in my feet. My legs ready to unleash, but my feet holding me back. As we down bubble and begin the drop, Andrew takes off pulling away and I’m forced to conserve my feet.

I have to be patient and wait for the good trail that I know is coming, stay upright and move as best my feet allow until I’m out of the rocks and below the tree line.

The light is fading, the clock is ticking, and I will be finishing on my old headlamp. It’s not the best but it’s better than my back up light. As I hit the trees I can run faster. My legs now firing to go. Every open section either down or up I’m firing away, only slowing for rocks. I can’t afford to go down now and do myself a mischief.

As the light fades and the trees get taller it starts to sprinkle. I beg the heavens for a dry finish. I picture climbing into the van with all wet gear, a wet night and trying to dry gear. Out loud I beg for it to stop again.

It gets darker, I slow to a walk and remove my lamp, stick it on as the heavens open. I swear and run again. My lamp on but useless in the twilight. Hard to see I’m forced to slow a little as the rain pounds down, the trail turning to a river. Rocks and stumps hard to see.

Caution is washed away as my desire to really run this trail hard takes over, and I thunder down the trail, my heels throwing mud over my head, my poles in the carry position, both arms pumping. A smile on my face as I am amazed to feel my legs turn this fast after 150km. I really did come back from the dead.

A bright light ahead. It’s Andrew, as I come up on him from behind. His lamp much more powerful than mine. He lets me past and I carry the pace further down the trail, He stays with me a while, but the gap slowly grows as I forge the way with my candlelight compared to his light house. My body casting a shadow directly where my feet need to land. I stumble near the edge and have to slow as it is now so reckless in the mud, rain and darkness. Lightning and thunder boiling the sky overhead. Hundreds of meters below the Ovens River is roaring. I let Andrew back past, and admit his lamp is much better and it’s best he takes the lead. I run his pace and we can work together to get this done. I’m the navigator and he’s the sun. My lamp showing me the frogs, his lamp showing the way.

The rain is relentless, the mud flowing fast, but also softening the way under foot. The pounding of the feet and knees lessened, but the sting of water in torn blisters was sharp. 8km to go, 7km to go. We are counting down the meters to drop to river level and the distance to finish.

Andrew tells me it’s his first ultra and I compliment him on how strong he is running. He really is moving well for his first crack, and he picked a hard race to tackle. I keep him pumped up as we hit the switch backs dropping more and more each time. More water, more lightning, more cracking thunder overhead. Some sections of single-track showing signs of barely holding up to the water flow.

We hit river level and cross the large bridge and my watch tells us we are off course. We double back to be sure and seems to be an alignment issue. We press on, avoiding the frogs. Neither of us keen to mention that the rain stopped for a few moments. My old lamp showing signs of it’s age, dim and yellow I’m forced to stay in the rear. Glances at my watch say we should make it, but a wrong turn or tumble could risk that happening. I stay patient and decide if I’m really worried, I will light the afterburners once we hit the final couple kms of track to the finish. Andrew is doing great.

Ahead we see a lamp, then another. I don’t even have to hint at chasing them down and he picks up the pace just a touch. Instinct between pilot and navigator.

We reel in the first light quickly, a lovely lady in the 56km, fretting a little that she is too slow and going to miss cut off. “I’m just too slow.” she declares. “I won’t make it.” She has the same cut off as my goal time, and about 30 minutes left for a few km. But again, a wrong turn on the edge of town, or a tumble and it could be all over. I want to sling her over my shoulder and carry her in, but that’s just not possible. (note, we bumped into her the next day and she did make it home with 8 minutes to spare!) Andrew seems to hover close a moment too, but I apologise and say I have to go. Andrew gives her some encouragement and presses back on to catch me. I am closing on the second light ahead. Leaping logs to prevent the trail being washed away. My candle beam casts over the runner as he turns to look. It’s Oliver from Berlin. I had not seen him since the great leach train of Mt Feathertop the day before. He did not seem happy I was coming past, or happy I didn’t stay with him, or perhaps he was just so tired he wasn’t happy at all. I just know the clock was ticking and the visual markers Rowan and I found all seemed foreign to me. My foot plunges into the cold water and I feel the cold water flush my torn skin. Flashes of stinging pain but I know we must be within 2km of the final arch.

I picture the BTF boys chatting in our chat group. Wise words from Coach Tim “just run faster.” So, I did. I pulled away from Andrew a couple of times, the gap slightly opening and decided we had enough spare time I could hang with him. He was working well and had helped me with his light. We stayed together, pounding our way beside the Ovens River towards the lights of the finish.

The rain starts again as we hit the chute, side by side. His first ultra-completed, and 39 hours 39 minutes and 30 seconds reading on my watch.

9:39pm, I look around and am greeted by some vollies and Co-Race Director Matt. A finishers towel, medal and buckle. That glorious silver buckle. I make a remark about how hard I drove to make it back under 40 hours, and I learn all the buckles are silver, there are no bronze ones left. Ha! I’m glad I didn’t know that 12 hours ago when I cranked up the pressure on myself.

I ask Matt about Rowan, “He took a nap, hasn’t come back.” “But how did he go? What was his time?” “35:25.” Says the co-race director “Yeew!” I cheer, pumped to hear he clocked me by over 4 hours. I think back to when I was on the track. As I was almost at the Great Alpine Road, talking about getting it done, powered by snake lollies and soon to be offered a beer from a random guys window, Rowan was crossing the finish line. I get my finish portrait photo and wander to the big screen tent to watch the tracker and see if I can get my muddy hands on another cheese toasty. A gent there makes me a double cheese toasty as I sit in a chair and wait.

Later we hear the news there was a landslide on the Bon Accord, just after I went past. A section of trail washed away. Co-Race Director Megan went out to inspect it and mark it. A runner had slid into it and was pulled back by the runner behind. I have no doubts it would have been sketchy, I know how I was moving down there and if it was me I would not have been able to react too quickly. They closed the course at Blowhard aid station. Anyone that left Mt Murray for Blowhard was awarded an Inclement Weather finish and time. Some were upset but seeing the photos the next day and hearing the stories, it was a smart move for the new owners of the event.

Rowan finds me happily munching on my toasty and we make our way back to the van. He has done well with the extra time. Showered, moved the van, ordered pizza and got a nap in. He held up the pizza deal, and it was good to get back, shower and sit in the back of the Jucy van. A stubbie and pizza with my little brother after knocking out 100 miles each.

Those things were a first time for us to share together, and worth the pain and expense to be sitting there, totally wiped out yet content in life, sharing stories of our journey before stretching out for a night of restless legs, twitching and a thunder storm rolling over the van that was now two silver belt buckles heavier.

It’s 12:10 in the afternoon, 18th November 2017, I’m 31+ hours deep into Great Southern Endurance Run with over 11 hours still to go until I finish and a helpful aid station angle asks “Will you do this again?” and in front of my crew, I admit “no, I will never do this again. I came here to test myself and find my limit and I’ve done just that and there is no need to come back”

Well, like Dory the fish I have a short memory. After running just short of 43 hours with a bronze buckle finish in 2017 I thought I was happy. I thought I had given it everything, but as the weeks passed and the pain and misery of these events faded, I found myself wondering what I would do differently in an attempt at a silver buckle finish in 2019. That damn race and the damn nice people involved with it in every aspect had sat in the corner of my brain preparing me to sign back up in 2019 with a new plan. When regos opened, I admitted I had to go back and have another shot at a sub-40-hour finish.

2019 was different in the lead-up. Alicia and I decided to take the kids, a camper van and take more time away together to see old friends, try to take some stress out (ha!) I also had my brother coming down from Brisbane to help crew and pace the final two legs. It was the first ‘A Race’ that I didn’t have a fixed pre-written training program which I meticulously would stick to. I changed my nutrition and dropped just over 9 kilo’s which is a lot given my small size. I gave myself some flexibility but committed to just train like the race, loads of hiking and smash as much climbing into life as I could. The only structured training I did was ‘Peak Week” where I replicated an aid station leg a day. Eight legs, eight days and 181km with 11,500m of vert over the eight days, almost all done in 140m hill repeats on local mountain bike trails.

The race finally comes around, and after the heavy weather shake-up, we end up having an out and back course from Harrietville to Mt Speculation. Of all the possible combinations I didn’t consider this one, but it really was a stroke of genius, cutting about 64km of fire trails from the Bright leg had it started there. We had a race, and it promised to be tough as the original point to point having to complete the toughest section twice!

With the change in course we had to rise a little earlier to make the journey over to Harrietville, we also pick up Zoe another runner in need of a lift to the new start line and we gather in the early morning darkness, final preparations, photos and gasps as the RD Sean informs us it’s minus 6 degrees C at the top of the Bon Accord Spur just 14 or so km’s away.

Before I know it, we are counted in and we are moving away, a glowing snake of expensive high-quality headlamps following the edge of the Ovens River, and Hunter drops in beside me. We share the first couple of kilometers as I do a couple of practice ankle rolls for later and it seems in a blink, we have covered the first five kilometers and reach the bridge to start the climb proper. The snake stretches out and I lose contact with Hunter. The snake breaks into groups and there is a bit of chatter and we climb on some fantastic single trail, as the sky begins to lighten in the pre-dawn glow.

The groups are now just twos and threes and I put away my lamp and stick my BTF hat on, backward because I don’t want it blown off above the tree line and I chug my way up the long climb. As I turn onto the Razorback Ridge I notice we had climbed 1400m in 14km and I can see the most spectacular views. A quick stop here to throw on my hi-vis vest and I link up with Darren. As we descend the road leg, he casually informs me he just won the Adelaide 6 Day ultra, with 834km…. dang, am I at the right pace?! It felt good so I just rolled with it into Mt Saint Bernard (Aid 1 & 7) to the awaiting family. “007 in” oh did the vollies have some fun with that bib number. A few laughs and before I knew it, I was out the door on the next 16km leg to Selwyn Creek Rd aid station (Aid 2-6)

This leg starts off easy, four-wheel-drive track, considerably downhill with amazing ‘tree coral’ views before a left turns takes you off the easy stuff and onto the AAWT (Australian Alpine Walking Track) and our first section of ‘no trail’ A steep climb to one end of Mt Saint Bernard and I am joined by first-timer Andy and we enjoy a chat as we work the climb. I would end up sharing quite a bit of time with Andy as often our paces matched. We cross the ridge along the top of Bernard (smile for the photographer) and then descend steeply down an alpine grass-covered rocky slope before continuing almost straight up the first of The Twins, a rocky steep climb to a similar height that we are just on and has just as faint trail line to follow. A bit of experience, pink course marking tape and the GPX file on my watch really helps save time in sections like this.

Following the climb is a relatively easy-going grassy section, weaving through fallen trees following the rolling ridgeline to the second twin before descending the long less technical section. I found this easier going than 2017 as more trees had been cut, and the trail more defined with less weaving than the first race. Another solid ankle roll attempt saw Andy catch back up to me and we completed the country road section together into Selwyn Creek Rd aid station, where Rowan and Riley greeted me.

A short stop at Aid 2 saw me pick up supplies for the night, including my headphones (which I wore around my neck for 94km without using!) and off I marched straight up a pointless hill. Up the hard side of Mt Selwyn, a thick no trail climb where again, the watch and experience helped navigate this tree fallen scrub fight the section before passing over the summit, the point where the 50-mile runners would turn back when they started the following day.

Down the easy side of South Selwyn and I am slipping and tripping over the branches and long bark littering the single trail when Canadian Mike comes past, as he declares he took a wrong turn and was off course. Clearly, this poked the bear and he was trying to make up some time as I watched his red jacket pull away into the distance.

Off South Selwyn and Andy and I cross paths again, we chat some more during the 6 or so km leg to Riley’s hut along rolling fire trails. We pass another runner and his pacer but during a quick stop we are separated. I’m now stitching together solid running blocks along the easy-rolling trail sections as Andy catches up to Mike, I trail them both a couple hundred meters behind before again overtaken at speed as David Chiew makes the most of the runnable section, bombing past a number of runners into Riley’s Hut (Aid 3-5)

Dave has a quick stop; Andy seems slower and I leave Riley’s with Mike for the trudge back up the other side of the valley following East Riley Rd. The going is easy but would be foolish to run the 6km climb past Van Dammes to the turn off towards the Barry Mountains. Mike and I hike together. He tells me of his experience in ultras and it seems like he has some great races under his belt, but this is not your average ultra-picnic, this is GSER and after a few km’s shared we slowly part company as Mike decides to settle into a more sustainable pace.

After the long climb and passing Van Damme’s I made the left turn onto Selwyn Track, described as a four-wheel-drive woodcutters track. Two-wheel ruts but littered with low branches and fallen limbs. Easy to run on, but you need to be present of mind with changing lanes and avoiding obstacles. Soon after passing the Barry’s Saddle sign and turn off where the trail again takes a reduction in size I catch up to Dave and we share a few more rolling miles. Dave asks “Do you think we will make Mt Speculation by sunset?” to which I reply “I just want to get over The Viking by sunset” “but we still have four hours light” to which I genuinely reply with “I know, but this is  a pretty serious section.”

As we got closer I asked Dave “Do you want the good news or the bad news?” to which there was a very long pause before “uummmmm” “well, the good news is we are nearly there, the bad news is that’s it ahead” and ahead of use looms the rock topped mountain face known as The Viking.

We begin the ascent, where it’s most steep at the bottom. Hands, feet, poles, slip, slide, grunt sweat, drink and stare deep down into wombat tunnels carved into the mountain by industrious creatures. Dave falls behind a little as I focus on just getting past the ladder before the light fails, these three kilometers took me ninety minutes and I wasn’t dawdling about. Cresting the false summit, I stopped to transfer some water from my back bladder to a front bottle and mix a Spring Electroride, grab a snack and a quick photo as Dave, Andy and Mike join me. We cross the peak and descend the ladder as a group of four before picking, slipping and sliding our way down the steep yet ‘easy’ side of the Viking and about two hours light left. Quicker than I thought.

Working together we pass the Viking Saddle, a glade popular with campers clocking 74km of the outbound leg. Morale seems high in the late afternoon and the four of us keep a steady pace playing tree Jenga as we pick our way towards Mt Despair, via the sloping side of The Razor. This leg is by far the heaviest with fallen trees, even though we could see some fresh cuts it was still slow going. A brief admin stop to put my watch on charge and go to the toilet saw Dave get ahead of the group, he seemed to be climbing slower than the other three, so he forged ahead of Andy, Mike and myself. The leg between tree Jenga and Mt Despair follows the side of The Razor and has some sections that could land a tired person in a bit of mischief should they slip, so I was glad to be part of a threesome for this section as 2017 I did it solo in the fading light and I had to be very cautious, which made it take even longer. Working together was give and take, they could keep the pace moving with safety and I could share information having done it before. It worked well but as we cleared that section and began the climb up Mt Despair, we passed Dave and slowly the group separated as we forged ahead along the scrubby overgrown single trail. Just as I hit the top of the climb I bumped headlong into Joseph on his return leg. The leader was smiling and flying! We ran together in 2017 for a while and was great to see him crushing it now. “Looking good mate” “nice headphones Ben” oh yeah…forgot! On I press alone, wading through the bush I heard behind me as the other guys cross paths with Joseph I find myself playing the game ‘when will I see second?’ (turns out it would be a while; Joseph really was killing it!)

The trail now clears as it descends Mt Despair and I know there is a long woodcutters type track climb coming so I let the pace go a little and enjoy coming off the mountain, feeling the pull of the turn around point. I set a mini-goal of making it before fully dark.

The final track is about 4 or 5km push, mostly clear but some muddy patches, some fallen trees to work around, all uphill. Second and third come by having completed the outbound leg and as a light drizzle falls, darkness sets in and no fourth returns. All race I had not considered a position at all, I push it away as it’s totally out of my control until late in the race but for the first time, I wonder just how far up the field I am? The rain and darkness get heavier I am determined to make it to the aid station before stopping again, it just takes time to stop and gear up or down, so I wanted to do it all at once. The last two or three hundred meters were almost proper dark and I could start to feel a chill through my damp T-shirt.

A super-fast stop to layer up and get my lamp on, “how many are up there” I ask, enquiring about the final out and back to cover the 1200m to bag the peak of Mt Speculation “four...no wait, there are five up there right now.” I leave the aid station to hit the turnaround doing soggy mathematics in my head and as if it was some kind of twisted confirmation I slide into a muddy flow of stomped in runoff water. My socks which had so lovingly stayed dry were no longer dry.

I count off the runners as they come back down, all in good spirits and polite. I hear a bunch of girls camping nearby cheering and laughing. Torches flashing all over the place “good job” giggle giggle. Full darkness, rain, wind and now cloud cover increasing. A runner reports “almost there buddy, just past the green flashing light.” I hit the peak of the mountain, the wind is roaring, and I can’t see a thing beyond the reflection of my headlamp in the cloud. In some form of vengeance, I turn my lamp off, surrounded in the darkness I pee “take that” I giggle to myself before descending back to the aid station for the return leg home. 15:46 to the turn, leaving 24:14 to silver buckle.

Mt Speculation aid station re-visited was now more chaotic. Space was limited as some runners heading back stopped and some runners coming up stopped. I just tried to get turned around as quickly as possible before the chill set in, I was confident I had a single-digit place and didn’t want to just throw that away sitting down in front of the gas heater. I got out and stopped down the trail to put on my rain pants to keep some heat in. While stopped Dave passes me by, but he seems distant, so I let him go ahead. Maybe he could count noses too. I pass Hunter as he is climbing the final section to the aid station, a brief as we go our ways.

Traffic is now heavier as runners are “nearly there” and we are doing a “good job” Empty platitudes now, but at the time they are in invaluable interaction. I pass Dave on the climb up Mt Despair and have two runners behind me working together to find the way through the overgrown section. Near the summit I wander off the trail and they catch me “which way are you going?” says an accented man. “I’m heading back,” “Oh, you nearly had it, the trail is just here” and I stomp my way to join them. They descend a little quicker than me, but I stay close enough and I make the effort to stay with them along the side of The Razor. The two guys in front were Gerber and Warren.

We stuck together across The Razor and the tree Jenga section, passing a mutual friend Scott along the way and my mate Raquel also from Perth but I didn’t see Steve and had hoped he had just slipped past me. Sadly, he had to withdraw earlier at Riley’s Hut. At the Viking Saddle Warren and I stopped to swap layers and Gerber pushed on solo. Warren and I were close but not together for most of the climb, still passing runners descending on their outbound leg, although now sparser. At the ladder, I stopped to put my gloves on, and Warren waited at the top before we tackled the long tricky descent together, past the wombat holes chatting and looking out for each other down to Barry’s Saddle. At the junction to Selwyn Track, we stopped to swap layers and he encouraged me not to wait and we slowly got separated. Near the end of this trail, I came across another runner, pacer, and medic making their way to Van Damme’s. The medic checking on me as I passed them, “A1 tip tops condition” I lied. The truth was the hard section had given my feet a bit of a beating. An earlier bang to the top of my right foot was aching and I could feel the pressure building inside my shoe as the foot swelling. I dare not mention it though, can’t give these things strength.

As the trail opens up more to gravel road I shuffled along on sections and after a toilet stop see Warren close up behind me. He says, “Glad those growling dogs were inside the tent” “What dogs?” “In the 4WD.” I had seen the car parked up and could hear someone snoring but missed any dogs. I check the time and wonder if one of us was starting to trip out after 22 hours on the go. Surely that’s too soon!

We roll down the valley into Riley’s Hut and Gerber is at a seat by the fire at 4:30 in the morning. I get myself turned around and stuff a hash brown into myself and see Warren is going to be a little longer. “You want me to wait?” “Nah all good” and as I rise Gerber says in his Netherlands accent “I’ll come, I’m ready to go now” and we set off, once again on a long 6km grind up from the creek line to the woodcutters trail where East Buffalo Rd aid station was in 2017. The next stop was Selwyn Creek Rd aid station and I would be picking up my brother as a pacer for the final two legs. Amazing to think we were this far in and not even dawn on the second day yet. I realised I was well ahead of the projected time. I gave Alicia and the crew times for 38-41 hours, even saying “I will never in a million years be coming in under 38.” I had an average of 9:40 and that had me down around 30 hours finish which was just crazy to even think about. After the Viking twice it slid out as I expected but was still projecting about 35 hours, three hours under my best guess. I sure hope they had watched the tracker before going to bed, at this pace I am going to be passing Selwyn Creek Rd Aid with Gerber hours before planned and may not see them.

Gerber and I get to know each other as we mostly power hike along the trail in the pre-dawn air. This is his first 100 miler, and I’m amazed he both chose it as a first and was doing so well at it. The sky ever slowly getting more light until we can put our lamps away. Surprised mine had lasted this long on low power. Strict discipline had paid off and saved having to swap batteries. We crunched some numbers on the fly and realised we could pretty much hike in sub 90 minute 5km blocks (I set my auto lap to 5km to save power) from here and still earn a silver buckle, but we still had a few hard bits to go including two climbs between here and Aid 6. The sky turns from grey to gold as the sun rises above the mountains and another glorious alpine day begins. Gerber is pleased with the view and stops for a photo. The sun is like a smooth touch of energy.

A few kilometers short of the turn to climb South Selwyn I glance back and see we had been caught by another runner; it was Chris! In the effort to keep some dirt between us I spot another runner ahead and try to close on him. It’s Ryan. Almost within reach, he must hear the clicking of my poles and glances back and he too picks up the pace. This is madness, we still have 50km to go and already I have found myself in a four-way battle for position, yet I don’t actually know what the position is! Ryan pulls away and I settle the pace back down, assuming I was about to lose a spot to Chris but find it is Gerber. He had picked up the pace also and was hanging off the back, Chris was now out of sight. During the scrubby descent from Mt Selwyn, Chris catches us again and we had a laugh before Chris completes the move, pushing ahead to the aid station. Over the pointless hill, one last time and descending into the aid station Gerber pulls ahead as mt son Riley greets me with a smile just outside the second to last aid station.

I feel like I came back here after 21+ hours away a different person to which I left. I got my watch on charge as I was down to 2% and that’s didn’t sit well with me and got turned around as quick as possible. The station seemed busy, but I didn’t look around. Ready to go I had my brother Rowan joining me to experience some of this crazy race. We hit the trail with a cheer from the aid station staff and I bring Row up to speed on my status, “Running flat ok, hiking uphill well, downhill like Bambi as my feet are getting banged up.” And they were, the bang to the top of my foot had not let up but I didn’t want to talk about it. I had planned to get past the road and run the descent of Bon Accord strongly, but the feeling under the forefeet when going downhill was starting to be an issue I could not ignore. Kind of bummed me out a bit as my legs felt pretty good otherwise.

We press on, picking and choosing when I can run and when best to conserve. Up ahead I spot two people. “Any idea who that is?” “Christian and Ryan, they have been together for ages” Hmmm, Christian and I have a bit of race history, except it’s a secret racing history that he has no idea exists. He has kicked my butt a couple times in the past including GSER 2017 and now I can see him and two places just ahead. My hike gets a bit stronger as I close up for a chat. Turns out Ryan had rolled an ankle and Christian is not exactly having a good day either. We part company (like four snails heading in the same direction) and I see Gerber is right there with us. It seems he is determined for the company but does not want to encroach on my brother and I. Seriously, could this guy be any nicer? We pull away from the two faster runners and Gerber admits “I have a bit of racing history with Ryan, he beat me at the last race we did” Ha! We keep moving forward and begin the climb to the Twins. Rowan experiencing his first section of no trail, although this section is pretty easy to follow. There are some back and forward moves with an emergency application of chapstick to my toe before we summit the Twins proper. Rowan is taken back by the views. It really is amazing up there in the high country. We push ahead and pass Gerber before the rocky descent of death down the side of the Twins to the glade before the rocky ascent of death up the side of Mt Saint Bernard. I feel a low coming on as Rowan bounces about on 13km legs easily finding his way about the slopes. The final climb is taking its toll on me. The race photographer is back at the peak and catches an expression on my face that clearly says, ‘are we there yet.’ We rare not, Gerber is not far behind as we cut along the ridge to the last technical descent towards the Mt Saint Bernard’s aid station, where Alicia and the kids will be waiting.

Fatigue is setting in; my feet are accumulating issues and I’m not sure I can run the final push as planned. Gerber beats me from the aid station and we both start the 6 or so kilometre road section in our vests. I round the first bend and there is someone random in a vest taking photos, through weary eyes I see Dan, a mate from Perth whom has been away east. My brain can’t compute. He starts talking to me and takes a photo, my brain can’t put the pieces together. Has it malfunctioned? He explains “I saw on the tracker you were only 70km away, I figured I could make it and surprise you and Alicia” Yep, surprised me so much nearly short-circuited my melon. He realised pretty quickly I was in a slump, tired and not really my usual self. He and Rowan quickly hit it off and after leaving me said he turned back to his car only to bump into more runners and shared some road with them. It still feels like a dream, but there are photos, so I know it happened.

While head down slothing along the bitumen in a daze Gerber got a good-sized gap on me. I made the turn onto Razorback Ridge from the road and he was just a spec in the distance. The racer in me wanted to chase him down, but my feet were now mashed potato, and every sharp rock or stick proved painful. I was going to have to just take it easy and make the most of the smoother sections. A glance back down the road and not a soul to be seen, kilometers of open space. As I painfully descend a wonderful section of single trail to the tree line. Rowan and I agree that anyone closes that gap on me and they can have the spot, I won’t be catching them back!

We descend the single trail and it changes from open exposed alpine at 1700m ASL to the tree line and then eventually bush. Small black ants clinging to my lower legs as I pass the scrub and they constantly have to be brushed off. It gets warmer as we drop further and further, and the reality of a silver buckle sets in. If I could only run the last 10km I could even hit a high 35-hour finish. I hit 11km to go and we are now in the trees, the trail soft and undulating. I throw caution to the wind and grunt up some running. It’s easier going up than down and the pain in my feet is letting me know that this is a bad idea. But I wanted to close well, and I wanted Rowan to experience running down the spur. 

To my surprise, Gerber appears through the trees and as I pass, I give him a tap and cheer as does Rowan. He tells me he’s done running too. But I’m on a section that feel ok and I continue to push the pace. I hear Rowans breathing behind me and can tell he is also working. The trail flows through a flatter section, I trip and stumble time and time again as the bush grabs at my lower legs. I can’t hold the intensity required and have to walk the down sections, but this is a spur and soon it is all down. I am reduced to hiking again and time seems to stop. The river is far below, I can hear the Ovens rushing over smooth rocks, but getting down to the bridge takes forever. The descent is brutal and from behind, I hear the familiar shuffle of ultra-feet, a voice says, “How long does this go down for?” A runner I didn’t know had not only closed the gap but was still able to run. It later turned out he must have had a solid back half as he was with runners in the 45-hour bracket and now he was going for a low 37!

After an eternity of down stepping we get to the bridge and from here I know it’s 5km to finish. One parkrun to go, about 4km of single track and 1km or riverside trail/road. Time does not speed up. My foot is so swollen I have to stop and loosen my laces completely off and still it is tight. I shuffle when I can but mostly hobble along. We see a lizard “did you see that?” “Yeah” “Good” brain still working. Five steps later I stop, as two more lizards are on the trail, one with its mouth around the other in some form of a mating dance. “Do you see that?” “yes” “Good” brain still working and we sidestep the love birds to continue. Among the rush of water, we pass the final hut marking the start of the trailhead and see open land ahead. Flat open land and I start the final shuffle to the finish. We soon pass a sign saying 800m to go and I feel the pull of the finish line, all the check engine lights go away and through a rush of excitement, my legs begin to turn well again. Rowan had said he wanted to run ahead to film the finish and I start pointing for him to go. He doesn’t seem to understand. “Go now!” I say and point ahead, as my legs spin towards that final bridge and red arch.

I pass the gates and stop my watch. All the alarm bells start ringing again and I hear “take another step!” I had stopped short of the arch by one pace. Idiot. I step over and promptly sit on the finish line. I must have looked and smelt like some kind of caged animal. A wave of emotion was sitting just below the surface. Sean greets me at ground level, and I say, “I don’t like you right now, that was horrible” and he passes me a silver sub 4o buckle. “OK, I like you now.” 37:30 and 8th home. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that would have been possible, especially after doing the Viking twice.

Would I run it again? I don’t know for sure. I need more time. Ask me when rego’s open again.

Gear: UD PB 3.0 Vest, Black Diamond Poles, Garmin Fenix 5+, Altra Lone Peak 4.0’s (with 1200km in them) and gaiters. Petzl Nao lamp with cheap back up. Inov8 Storm shell and Cape kids rain pants, Kathmandu thermals.

Nutrition: Fuelled with Trail Brew, dropped to half strength in the second half. Spring Energy gels and Electroride ginger mix (saved me!) a few fruit sticks, ginger beer, and one hash brown.

The Backstory

The lead up to this race had been a pretty solid one by my standards. WTF 100 miler in 2015 was a qualifier race for another 100 miler on the Australian east coast. After nearly a year of waiting, I was accepted to race in the Great Southern Endurance Run (GSER) A 181km 10,000m vertical gain alpine race. Fast forward almost another year and the race is fast approaching this coming November.

I will try not to wander to far from this race, but it was all part of my preparation. My GSER training program involved nearly a year’s worth of ‘racing diet’ Both for financial and racing effort reasons. Since Australia Day Ultra in January until GSER in November, there was to be only one race, and that was a ‘test and tune’ event. WTF50 was perfect. Local, I knew the course and it was a chance to test out some things under race conditions.

Training involved a good base of 100km weeks before training even started. Bread and butter weeks including one interval session, one tempo session and one long run as the foundation. The first few weeks were 6 days a week with easy volume runs filling in between the harder workouts, then I swapped to 7 days a week and targeted at least 2,00m elevation gain. The training week of WTF was a 130k week with an extremely short 3-day taper.

What The Actual Race Day

I got as early a night as I could, and rose on the first alarm, quietly got ready and drove myself to the start line with an instant packet of porridge warming my belly. The drive was dark, wet and not exactly inspiring for what lay ahead.

I arrived at the meet point a bit early and was not sure of the new parking area, eventually, I found the toilets and parking area and Sergio was also wandering about in the rain looking for the start. A few moments later a stream of cars rolled in and it was on. I parked and walked behind my car to get my gear out and stood in a large puddle…. great.

Race director Dave Kennedy (DK) arrived in the big orange bus and we get through the drop bag process quick and easy then take the short walk through the early daw sunlight to the start line proper. It’s raining lightly and I am in two minds about keeping my hooded jacket on or not, I hate running in that thing, yet didn’t want to spend all day wet either, so it stayed on.

Race line brief, I hit my watch to get the location and it has an update waiting for me…. c’mon really? You need to do this now?! (I ended up starting the race without it tracking and got it sorted on the go, but that explains the minute difference between my watch time and gun time)

We set off and I’m about mid-pack and 50 meters into the race the lead guys run right by the first turn and take half the pack with them. I call out and everyone gets back on track among a few laughs. I find myself running with a person I didn’t recognise, Thomas with another lady I didn’t recognise Martina. Both looked springy and ready to go and as Chris and Andrew joined me they pulled ahead. The boys and I had agreed to run together for as long as it worked as a Runningworks Team, which I was happy for. The company was nice and I offered a few tips and laughs along the way. Both those guys had potential to win, and now there were two other factors I had not considered opening a gap ahead. I told the guys to be patient, 80k is a long way.

The first 5km is mostly downhill, so I tried to keep the pace comfortable but not silly. I said to Andrew “forget the split times and think of the split effort, consistent effort is more important than maintaining a specific number, some will be fast, some will be slow so think of the overall effort” I had planned my effort to be above training but stay below racing pace.

Things were going well, Martine came back to the group on one of the last big downhills before the river and Thomas opened the gap more and more. Our group of three crossed the river and began the next long 1.6km climb. I was happy to use my poles and run walk this, Chris seemed eager to run more and Andrew was happier to listen to his wife’s advice “winners walk the hills” Either way, we stayed pretty much together and were on the more runnable stuff into Kingsbury Drive Aid Station holding a nice pace and chatting away. Our average was pretty much 8 hours flat and Thomas was out of sight, a quick glance behind saw a few runners not far back, also in good spirits.

We round the last bend and I ask the guys if they were stopping and both said yes. I mentioned I needed to get my jacket off and have a pee so they might catch me then, but I avoid stopping at stations if I don’t have to. I had packed enough gear to not stop and ran right thought “307 in…307 out”

I would not see the boys again until Goldmine Hill’s out and back leg.

Running solo, I expected to slow down a bit, but managed to hold some pretty good pace on the hard-packed trail between the Kingsbury rd. crossing, around the plantation and into the ‘lil bitch’ (a term I use for my second most disliked part of the course, not an official name haha) the first of two rolling technical hills sections that can be tough in both directions, at least this year was a one way trip for me. A few hiking breaks and 6-7minute km’s saw me through to the Boyd Road section in pretty good shape. It was here my heart rate was elevated when I saw two rather large off leash Rottweilers running towards me with a small third dog in chase…. ALARM! The owner was close by and called the dogs and thankfully they had a great recall and decided against chewing on the skinny runner passing by! Just before leaving the road section I saw Chris’s wife Sandy and the rest of the support team at the junction. I appreciate the cheers guys. This was followed by a right turn and ‘big bitch’.

Part two of the rolling hill sections. It’s really not that bad, and many a runner would take it in their stride, but it’s enough to break your rhythm and technical enough to make you consider your footing and conserving the quad strength, it’s too soon to be burning them up. A few slower km’s and I took the chance to cram in some calories, after all the more you eat the less you have to carry! A couple of great single-track kilometres saw me popping out at the North Dandalup Dam Aid Station. 30km into the race and my first official stop. “307 in” and I was greeted by the lovely Kel, Harms and Jez at the table. “4 minutes behind the leader Ben” They took my rubbish and passed me my drop bag containing a kids sized packet of plain chips, a mini can of ginger ale and one Winners bar. I can’t remember if I had my bottles filled, I don’t think so?! I ate the chips, drank the drink and pocketed the bar “307 out” and was on my way. 30th kilometre was 7:15, so probably puts the total aid stop somewhere between 90 seconds and two minutes before setting out over the picturesque dam wall. 6 minutes behind Thomas.

As I crossed the wall in clear blue skies and tried to take in the views I reflected on two things, one was immediate and one was more philosophical. Firstly, was race related, Thomas was 6 minutes ahead, that’s a pretty solid kilometre gap and I figured I would see him in the next hour, or I would never see him again and the dark house effect had taken place once again like a Survivor blind side. Only time would tell. Secondly was a conversation I had with a hiker one day during training “runners see twice as much but only half as good” SO I made the effort to take in the views on the go, to really see twice as much

From the dam wall to the Out and Back Aid Station is my favourite part of the course. Even though it’s hilly it is still my favourite. Rolling single tracks, perfect for mountain bikers. Bermed banks and bush right up to the trail edge. I didn’t even mind the puddles or diversion around large fallen trees, plus I was almost halfway and the average pace was still sub 8-hour finish.

35.5km and I pop out at the Out and Back Aid Station, this year a full aid station and I cruise right through to complete the out and back leg before stopping. The volunteers cheer and I start the climb over Goldmine Hill, now officially on the local favourite 6 Inch Trail Marathon course heading towards it’s start. I break out the poles and run walk my way over the top and part way down to the 50 mile turn around. All the while wondering “Has Thomas opened the gap and run away, or will I see him any second?” Passing the Dodd’s sign, I see him on the return trip and we both look at our watches. As we crossed I gave him a cheer but I don’t think he heard me as he had headphones in, he was also climbing and probably doing the maths, as was I.

I hit the run and take two steps more, just to be sure and start my way back with that number locked in my mind, I pass the sign and #margiemaths has the gap back to 4 minutes, so I had clawed back the two-minute aid stop but at what cost? Hiking over the top with my poles clicking away I see SJ, it actually took at least 30 seconds for me to place the face and name but I got there in the end and smiled my way over the hill, stowed my poles and ran down the backside of Goldmine Hill towards resupply.

“307 in” and I find a bin to drop my rubbish and grab my drop bag. I pass on the chips and just drink the ginger ale. Helped by Elise and another lady I recognised but could not place a name, I’m bad with names until I hang out with them, sorry for not being able to thank you by name! I donate my ration of snake lollies to the aid station kitty as I still had a few left from the start of the race and stow my re-filled soft flask bottles. DK mentions I am looking in good shape and I feel pretty good at the halfway mark. In the parting seconds of the stop I cross paths with the leader of the 100 mile race, Nate. He is looking fresh as a daisy! With the roar of four people clapping it’s “307 out” and I’m starting the longest leg, 25km to the fabled Treasure Island at Oakley Dam.

The first half of this leg goes smoothly, I see the 100 pack coming past on their journey to Jarradale where I started and they all seem in good spirits and fairly spread out. I wish them all luck and they all cheer back, some saying “he’s right there” or similar but I was yet to see Thomas through he tree’s so I dismissed it as well meaning motivation but maybe not entirely accurate, #margiemaths really was a thing after all! It took until the sharp left turn across the rickety old wood bridge before I caught a glimpse of first place. I didn’t push or try to close the gap. I just maintained the same effort and let the cards fall where they may. At almost 48km we were should to should at the base of a long climb. We hiked for quite a long time (about 9 minutes!) and chatted about all sorts of things while we worked the hill. I took the chance to get some calories in knowing there was some runnable km’s coming up before the Del Park Road crossing. We crested the main climb and started running together, Thomas stayed with me for a while but seemed to drop off the back. Not sure if he stopped on purpose for a toilet break or just slowly slipped behind but the last I saw him at that stage was a cheer as we passed 50.1km, I called over my should “happy distance PB” we laughed and I turned my attention to my own effort and now had to make some decisions.

The section to the road crossing seemed to take a while and I tried my best to just run by feel and not try to run away from Thomas. I felt he had gone too hard too early and would now slip back in the pack as Chris and Andrew would be not far back, they were about 10-12 minutes back at Goldmine when I saw them there. From here I tried to dial the effort back a bit, this was a training run after all so I fell into the habit of looking back (which I always try not to do) and let myself hike more than I would if I was racing super hard. This had a weird effect on me and I hit my first low point of the race. My right wrist was getting sore when using the poles and I had to stop using them after the technical section from Del Park Rd and just ran the gentle climbs like Deadpool with my sticks strapped across my back. Hiking more than I wanted but I was also in a bit of a funk. Running past Tuner’s Hill (Aid 1 at 6 Inch) I berated myself for so many little hikes and committed to run to the Scrap Road crossing, “all the way, no walking, this is all runnable” I wanted to cruise slowly and consistently, but found I would run fast and get tired and the urge to walk was overwhelming. Weirdly, I felt exactly the same here at last year’s 100, and was passed in the exact same spot to slip from 2nd the 3rd (hat tip to Rob) I found the urge and saw a car coming which I think had a relay runner in it, he said “are you coming first?” and I replied “yes mate” trying to smile on the outside and “ gave me a cheer “that’s awesome, looking great” “thanks mate” as I passed by desperately trying to stay running. I knew the road was close now and was confident I was going to hold up my end of the deal and run all the way, before I hit a small rise and without permission my legs stopped running and I turned into a real life Jekyll and Hyde, right there out loud arguing with myself like a crazed lunatic “You f#$%ing P#$%y” “it is a training run, I don’t need to race that hard” “a deals a deal and you folded” Seriously, the weirdest conversation I have ever had and I was all alone. The rise was over and I was back running, chin up chest out in a bit of disbelief regards the last 30 seconds of my life.

I pass the start of the 3 Inch Trail Half Marathon course and begin the climb to the radio tower. I run the flatter stuff and hike the steeper parts, but walked almost a km solid to the top, eating what I can and drinking what I need to. Looking back, doing (now silent) deals with myself. As I pass the tower with the rumble of the conveyor belts to my left I feel the pull of Treasure Island and running down the other side I feel the funk passing. I see the relay guys again at the turn and they tell me I look fantastic and I confess “I’m not exactly feeling it” “I don’t think you are supposed to at 60km!” I cross the conveyor belt overpass thinking that he is right, I’m on target for a 8:30 finish and I had let my nutrition slip a bit that last long leg so of course I was feeling it. I ate another gel to be sure as I passed the ‘scarecrow’ and made the climb up towards Treasure Island.

I roll down the hill and can see signs posted for the runners, all pirate themed as the fabulous Treasure family embrace their name sake Aid Station. The road is lined with cars and there are people moving about. I hear a lady say to her daughters “her comes first place” and I smile. I don’t normally run this end of the field, only ever come first once before so it was a special feeling. I roll into Treasure Island to claps and cheers from a swarm of pirates. “307 in.”

I hand off one bottle to get me to the finish and leave one half full bottle in my vest. Blue is there with my drop bag, Frank fill my bottle and tried to give me a shot of rum, Ben and Shirley are right there packing my vest with my ‘to go’ bag and my other secret weapon, a small bottle of kids red fruit juice. That stuff sends kids crazy at parties, perfect for ultra-runners! I donate another small serve of chips and snakes to the aid station and finish my ginger ale. I mention that I really wanted to hit a sub 8:30 but I’m not so sure now and Blue does the maths for me “two hours to do 16 and a half kays’, no worries” (or to that effect) Going to be close but doable if I keep my head in the game. As I finish my drink Blue says, “don’t let us keep you” and two to three minutes later “307 out.”

Oakley Dam is a short 2km out and back that means you need to leave the marked Munda Biddi Trail. It also means you can once again see some of the field. I was expecting to see Chris or Andrew next, but was surprised it was Thomas, still holding on and still running. Kudo’s to him! Back to the scarecrow that is one of two danger points for navigation and has a history of runners missing the turn. As I was making the final turn back onto the trail I crossed paths with Aaron, but he was coming out of the trail and asked if he was going in the right direction. I confirmed the way to Oakley Dam and thought that was a good catch on his part in correcting the navigation mistake.

From here I was on the last leg, the final pull of the finish was there and the earlier pity party was wrapped up. The food was working and the mission was 16km in under 2 hours but to not destroy myself, maintain the faster than training, slower than race but should someone close the gap be prepared to run hard. The kilometres ticked by and I was happy with the effort. I drank my kids juice, tried to eat a bar but was over the dense food and only ate half of it. Not long later I ate two snakes, no point carrying them all the way and I continued to feel good.

Then it happened and for a moment I thought my race was done. As I neared the turn taken in the 6 Inch race that heads up to Aid 2, I began to cough. I had one almighty cough that was so violent my balls hurt and I doubled over and staggered to the side of the trail. Out of nowhere. I clutch my crotch and suppress the urge to cough again, I didn’t want the pain and I didn’t want to vomit. The urge passed and I got moving again, hesitant but moving. I had no idea where that came from and it worried me for a few seconds, but everything stayed down and the cough was a once off. I had a drink and decided to back off the eating for a little while. Pace came back and I was on my merry way, praying that didn’t happen again!

From here I hit a left turn onto the last of the notable climbs, mixed walk and run to get it done then steady pace, now alert for on coming mountain bikers heading out from Dwellingup. The effort is perfect, I do feel the miles but I’m not ‘running for my life’ Down the first powerline section and I have my final gel of the day and a drink. This section is open gravel road and I left the downhill flow, not even worried about looking back anymore. I feel if anyone catches me from here I can push it home. I just take in the trail, even saw a train! That’s a weird feeling seeing a steam train moving through the scrub where you had no idea there was train tracks! Now enjoying myself I sipped my water and did my best to avoid the run off puddles, one section of single track was impossible to avoid, it usually is so I just ploughed on through. Less than 10km with wet socks was fine, they had been wet most of the day anyway.

Second powerline section and into the Marrinup Maze. Five kilometres to home. One parkrun. Passing through the campground I have one last look back and can only see campers. I enjoy running the winding single track, taking in the berms and not caring about the puddles. Running well I think that this is what today was about. Not winning or leading or any of that stuff, but running well on tired legs. The training part of today. Manage the effort, be running well at the end and somewhere between 8 and 8.5 hours. A win was cream on the cake, or more accurately new shoes on my feet.

I pass the familiar farm with the hole in the shed and pigs, the dog barks at me as I run past, as Alexis predicted and now only 3km to go.

I pass some hikers and their border collie out for a casual walk, must be close now. I hear the noise of a country town and know in my bones it’s close and then I see a yellow trail marker. The original last turn to the finish. Now a four-way junction, and DK’s races have used all four in the past. There is no tape, I stand still in the junction and process my options and decide to follow the trail markers to the train tracks and see some tape at the upcoming road junction. I made the right choice and pop out once again on Del Park Road to a sign 50M to FINISH with an arrow.

I make the final turn and scan around looking for a finish line. The pub is busy, there are people in the park and I look both ways as I cross the train lines then ahead I see my youngest son running towards me, then comes my oldest into view and I choke back a sob. They had other plans that day and I didn’t expect to see them or my wife at the finish. I gathered them around my arms and jogged over the road to the group outside a small building. “where’s the finish line?” “you’re standing on it” and a wave of relief sweeps me as I pause my watch and look down.

It says 8:19.49, which was corrected to 8:20 and change considering my watch took a minute to sort itself out on the start line. Almost an hour faster than my 2014 race. I was pumped with the result, and stoked to have my family there to share it.

A word of warning to runners in DK’s events, if you have an issue with the course marking, be prepared to do something about it! Dave grabbed some tape and joked about sending me back out, but I also know he was recovering from a 200 mile race himself. So, I gathered the kids and Alicia and we took a slow stroll back to the four-way junction to put some tape down for the next runners. Thomas ended up holding second for the last 30km running sub 9 hours on his 50 mile debut.

 A special thanks to DK and his wife Belle for putting on a great event, even getting us some sunshine during the day. To the aid station teams who put so much work, time, money and effort into helping us runners. Many are friends already and I can’t thank you enough.

 Fast and Dirty Stats

Distance – 81.8km, 8 hours 20minutes, average pace 6:06/km

Calories consumed – Approx. 1,000 – 1,100, (7,000 burnt)

Water consumed – 2.5 litres, Kids Juices – 3, Mini Ginger ales – 3

Shoes – Altra Superior 3.0’s, Innov-8 mud sock with Stone Free Running Gaiters (also recommend Treasure Gaiters if you are in the market)

Shirt – TEAM RUNNINGWORKS tech shirt, Innov-8 Race shell when it was wet.

Poles - Carbon Fibre Z Poles

I ran this race in 2015 during it’s inaugural event. I had a lofty target of four hours even. Readers may not remember the write up, but you may recall that time when I was passed by a capped and bearded man wearing a tutu.....well that race and I had some unfinished business in 2016.

Once again I toed the line in the 50 kilometer event, same as last year but this year I knew I had come along way in my training. I had learned much about not only my personal fitness, but how to manage my own mental strengths and am coming to grips with my bodies race requirements in the water and nutritional departments. I was coming off the back of a successful 6 Inch race and in a  good mental place.

This race is an out and back course along Lake Leschenult, 6.25km out and 6.25km back with an aid station at each turn around and one right in the middle. The 50km event runs four laps, the 100km eight while the brand new 25km event zips about in just two.

The family and I made our way down on the Friday afternoon and settled in with family for the evening. I tried to get an early night before the 1:30am wake up call but this is often fruitless the night of a race. I did my best and was tucked in by 10:30pm. 

An early rise meant for tip-toeing about the house getting myself sorted before slipping away on the short drive to the startline to meet the other 50 and the 100 runners. Registrations and mandatory kit check went smoothly and I moved about the small crowd quietly catching up with friends and other competitors getting set up. The run brief was exactly that, nice and brief. The pack staged behind the timing strip and I once again sided up with Tony Smith. The man very same Tony that paced me to a 3:12 marathon debut. We had chatted before the race and knew we could work together for a fair chunk of the race and then throw down in the closing of the race and see who had the most left. I was pretty confident he would not only beat me, but he would do it with quite a margin, but I do my best when playing with others. My goal was to run my plan and if possible beat Tony’s winning time from last year and go under the course record. We will see if I have the legs this year to run a time that would have won last year.....aim high they say!

A quick handshake then at 3:07am both distances were unleashed and we made our way along the ‘J’ shaped start/finish end of the course onto the path proper. We were all aglow with head lamps and reflective vests, must have been quite the sight.

Right away Tony and I are on target pace of 4:30 knocking out a 4:31 out of the box working with the thinning crowd. We were up the pointy end but a pack had already gone out hard, including a few of the 100′s. It was clear this was going to be a spectacle, either in stellar finish times or blow ups, fingers crossed I’m in the former. 

We were running lap one right where we both wanted to, conversation was comfortable and while I knew I had run Kalgoorlie Pipeline Marathon at this pace it still made me think “woah.....can I really do this?” As we were heading out for the first time Tony declared “I’m only running with you so I get a mention in your race report” We both had a laugh about that as we counted of faces in the dark as the lead runners made the turn and headed back. At this point there were no surprises ahead of us with the exception of two of those people were 100k runners, Dave and Rick. After the turn we caught Dave after a brief stop but Rick was still ahead running with the lead lady and World 50k competitor (insert typical fanboy sigh) Tina Major. 

At some point along here I explained my theory about how I was to run this four lap race. Each lap was a stage, and stage one was almost complete.

Stage 1; Fun. 

This lap is the shake out lap, usually easy, often too fast and we catch up and have a laugh (much to my wife's shock that we laugh and joke at that pace let alone speak at all) It was exactly that, fresh, fun and quite social. The first 12.5km were bowled over at 4:35′s or lower for a lap time of 56:15. A quick splash from a plastic cup as I cross the timing mat to head out, sharing my cup of water with Tony.

Stage Two; Set.

By set I mean ‘set the pace’. I needed to lock in that cadence of 180 and needed that 4:30 average to be programed into my legs for the following stages. We still chatted, and I had my first gel on approach to the middle aid station at about the 70 minute mark.  Our group of three caught Rick whom seemed to be flagging a little, or perhaps he could hear us talking and thought it would be easier with us than trying to outrun us, either way, I met Rick and the four of us shared the chat on the way out over the speed bumps and old bitumen section. Tina was still left alone ahead of us, our shadows occasionally casting ominus shapes around her feet. Tony instinctively leant on the pace to close the gap. Cranking out split times down into the mid 4:20′s with only one km being over 4:30 (4:33). I personally was flirting with danger, too much of this and I would be in trouble later. Today was a day to push the envelope, but this was like running with scissors! With less than 3km left of the ‘Set’ phase we caught Tina. First Tony had a chat, then Dave and then it was my turn as our pace bus picked our way past while saying g’day, introducing ourselves and avoiding oncoming traffic. I admit, I mentioned that I read one of her race reports from a super fast 50k race in Canberra. #fanboy strikes again. I seriously can’t help myself. We all swing around the ‘J’ again with Rick and Tina now behind me, Dave swings wide for supplies and Tony and I are left still close as we head back out again, a quick sip from my handheld stashed at the turn and we were off again with no change to the order. The second 12.5km lap time was almost perfect split with only a second slower time of 56:16 recorded. We also got to dump our vests and headlamps after 2 laps, oppose to last years 3. Perfect.

Stage Three: Smart.

This lap is where I made some mistakes last year, and this year I had to play it smart. I had a plan and I needed to stick to it or risk falling over while running with those scissors. As soon as we hit the path Tony tells me he is cranking it up a notch “shaving 5 or so off” Turns out that was somewhat misleading but at the 25km mark I was left with a choice of going with, or sticking to my own plan. Tony lifted sooner than I had expected, but I chose to run my own race here. I had hoped I would see him again but as it happened, Tony pulled much more than 5 seconds per km out and built a hefty buffer for himself.

I now had Dave, a well accomplished Commonwealth runner behind me in the 100 class and Tina another well accomplished international representative (with stunning running form I might add) behind me. I could hear them talking from time to time. Once again on approach to the middle aid station I had my second gel  at about the 28km mark, just over planned time of 60 minutes, but I held it for a bin and chance to rinse it down with water from the station. After a momentary stop I had to get my rhythm back and my sensible low 4:30′s started to creep back down into the 20′s all the way to the cul-de-sac turn where I managed to pop out a weary leap shot for Alexis from Running WA.

I rounded the turn calling my number to the aid angles helping there and set back out for my second last leg home. I had to remind myself even though I felt really good at this point, I still had 1.5 laps to go and had only gone past 31.5km. It was good to feel in control, but let’s not see too many more 20′s. I saw Tina was looking great but I had a nice margin and thought I had better start saving some heart beats for later. Tina is very experienced and I am sure she is just waiting for me to make a mistake ready to pick off. I settled the pace back to low 4:30′s. I finished ‘Stage Smart’ with a string of 4:35′s as dawn morphed to morning. Lap time slid a little and I posted another 12.5km lap 38 seconds slower at a time of 56:54. No change of place for me or the now well spread leaders. I was holding 6th place overall, almost exact laps and average pace was now 4:30 exactly. Every smile I sent out was real, I was beaming. It was now time for the fourth and final lap.

Stage; Heart.

Heart, all my training had got me here, my legs and brain had set this lap up, but it was going to take some heart to close the deal. If I wanted this personal goal I was going to have to dig deep. By now i was on approach to the middle aid station again and time to have my third and final gel. It was a Roctane ‘super dooper’ Gu, but first gulp nearly made me gag. A new flavour and it tasted foul. I got as much in as possible, dropped the packed in the bin and rinsed as soon as I could, handing over precious seconds before lifting those little legs of mine back to pace. In the shade of the tea tree’s I passed the 42.2 mark, even with coming to a dead stop and almost 8kms still to go I set a new marathon best. Mr Garmin says a time of 3:10.34. No one is about but I smile anyway. Two minutes off my marathon and a week nights training run to go. In my mind though I have a concern about that last gel, it was sitting fine now, but was it enough to be able to hold off Tina’s late charge? Tony was long gone now, the leader Tom had already stormed past, second place Mike was a way back but still charging ruthlessly. I expect to see Luke next but see Big Kev.....a shuffle up the front? As I near the last turn for the final time I see Tony, not Luke. A bigger shuffle ahead. I call to Tony who says “he’s done, maybe a hammy?” I can see the cul-de-sac and Luke on his way south. Bare chested and that look on his face where you reflect on where you went wrong. I don’t think it was a hammy, he went out with a smashing pace and paid the price late in the game.

For the second time ever, I decided to break into my emergency supply. Partly from fear of Tina (did I mention she had fantastic form? It was like running from a T1000, sent back from the future to run you down with shiny metal sword hands and perfect forefoot strike!!) and partly because I didn’t get many calories in last gel I had a NoDose tablet. I have no idea if it worked or not, but it was good to know I had something.

Now on the home straight. Last year I was ticking off mental milestones, I also slowed and was passed a few times, desperate not to walk. This year it was the opposite, I was champing at the bit, trying to keep the pace steady, I consciously slowed down clocking a 4:44 and a 4:39 split consecutively in an effort to save some for Tina’s late challenge. I swept into the middle aid station for the final time, gulping a small cup of coke and tipping a small water over my head. 3km to go and time to get the shovel out and start digging. 

I clawed back the aid stop time and lifted some more, I knew my goal was almost complete, my heart swam in joy as I knew I had a strong finish in me. The knee’s pumped and I hefted air through my mouth. Someone coming the other way yelled “wow man you’re sprinting!” and I was. There was no charge from behind, Tony was long gone and already finished with a 6 minute or so lead, but still I gave it all I could clocking a 4:19 in my second last split, and a 4:07 in the final. The thought crossed my mind that I should have gone earlier, but that would have been a risk, and I honestly was already running in a place I had never visited before, so I think I played it smart for a great result.

My final lap was a mirror of my third, 56:54 exact, 5th place overall and under last year course record with an official time of 3:46.18. Close to 25 minutes off last year, and almost an hour off my first 50km road race. Happy is an understatement.

It really is a great day out. Soon after a few of us including Bryant, Margie and of course Tony slipped over to Bunbury for a cheeky 5km parkrun before coming back to the course to welcome in the other finishers. It really is a wonderful community we have, and the encouragement on course is something I just can’t explain, so if you want to experience a fast, flat and super friendly 25, 50 or 100k, head down next Aussie Day, free hi fives all day long.

Oh.....and then there was this shot ‘for the report’ Ha! Thanks Tony, once again we shared a great run.

At the end of the year in Perth, there is a trail marathon (many call it an ultra as it is close to 48km) A kin to it’s Australian East coast cousin, the 6 Foot Track Marathon, we have the 6 Inch Trail Marathon. In the past few years, this event has blossomed into a very popular event and this year also included a half distance for the first time. Both events sold out within days of entries opening.

I ran it last year and blew up pretty good in the last few clicks as many often do, and finished with a time of 4:51. This year I had a goal of at least running a better time than last. Friends would ask what my target was and for the most part I would say “I would love it to be a 4:30 something and really happy if it was in the 20′s” Deep down though, I knew a good friend and great runner Hunter ran an almost identical time in his first 6 Inch, then sliced 41 minutes off his time the next year. This was my second year too......I wonder if I could get close, after all, he proved it was possible. A lofty dream but I did my research still and would need an average pace of 5:15 or better for the same 41 minutes. Seemed even further out of reach knowing that!

The lead up day was supposed to be easy, and every intention to rest seemed to go wayward, I got no sleep the night of the race and I don’t mean that as in disrupted, or very little. Not being able to sleep got me so stressed about not being able to sleep it just made things worse. The alarm went off at 1:45am and I sat up and thought to myself “my race is doomed.” I ate a light bowl of cornflakes and a pear while I impatiently waited for the mini van to arrive and take me to the said doom. I was grumpy amd stressed. I don’t think I even apologised to my van mates either, so sorry guys! As we drove down to the North Dandalup hall the mood lifted a little as we chatted and I cracked open a can of coke, caffeine was going to be my friend!

We arrived, checked in and greeted so many familiar faces. The anticipation of the race melted away the stress, all the effort was done to get here, we are on time and now there is just the race left. We rode the provided bus to the start line and waited in the cool darkness for the quick race brief before being counted in. In 3...2....1 my, and probably many others race plans went out the  window and we were off, heading for a hill 200m high and 3 km long, some at full tilt!

I had a side bet with another former soldier Tim, and he was off like a bullet, I knew it was going to go one of two ways with him, I would catch him late hating life, or I wouldn't see him until the finish, grinning like a cheshire cat! I linked up with Grant and Rich, whom I often run with socially. Grant was nursing a bad ankle, and Rich had been lacking volume in his training, by we stuck together for the climb up Goldmine Hill, once I warmed up I felt great and I let the hill carry me away, the two boys a little more reserved with the pace. Grant later dropped at Aid 1 due to his injury, and Rich ran on to complete the race.

At the crossing of Scarp Rd I fell in with a lady runner Mel, who was travelling from interstate, we shared a few km’s running about 5:00 pace, we talked about international races and where she had travelled. The pea gravel surface seemed to be quite new to her, it was not long before she backed the pace off a bit and I forged on for what I thought was alone. As I caught the next runner (I forget her name unfortunately) we again struck up a conversation about European races she had run and we had a great chat, still holding the same 5:00 pace. My average pace was coming down nicely after the first few km’s of climbing. As I noticed the pace slowing a little I decided to forge on a little more, I glanced back and found I had three gents with me, must have been there for some time quietly riding the bus. With me leading the small train we worked the gap and reeled in the next runner, as we passed he stayed a short while but soon dropped off the back as we were now often running splits starting with a 4. We all seemed lively and the pace was brisk, as Shane passed me I jumped in with him and we talked about Lance Armstrong and other random topics as we ground out way up a long climb heading towards Del Park Road, as we flew down the other side at low 4 pace I had to break it off with him, I can be reckless but that pace was certain to end in a painful finish! Soon I was by myself, with Shane ahead in white I just tried to keep him in sight, meanwhile I could hear two lots of breathing behind me. Two passengers were also trying to keep contact with me, Swampy and Keith.

We shared some great chats as we let Shane run off into the distance and agreed to work together to knock out some k’s. A few times I thought I was playing with fire as we consistently knock out low 5′s and high 4′s. We crossed Del Park Rd and worked the single trail climb. The guys hiking I ran ahead a small way to stop for a shoe full of rocks. I was in gaiters and still filled a shoe with rpebbles, only to find it was undone at the back! Cleaned and fixed I was away again to get back onto the bus with the other two boys, who were actually shaking hands in a formal introduction. After being caught with my hand in the cookie jar for a little too long with Shane, I decided to sit on the back of the threesome and conserve some energy, the pace slowed a fraction but I was happy with that, some nice wide gravel roads made for easy going as we approached aid 1. I had a plan to not stop, I Still had nearly a litre of water and had not long had my first gel back at 1:45. My fatigue crossing Del Park Rd may have been exasperated by not fueling at the planned 1:30 mark. I promised myself to not let it go so long next time as I was already now depleted and would need the energy sooner.

Our little trio all passed Aid 1 without a stop and was not long before we were close to where the half marathoners began. I knew we would not make the start, I would need to have covered 23k in 2 hours for that to happen, and while possible it would have been suicidal, so passing just 7 minutes after felt like a smart place to be for me. A high five from the RD Dave and we went to work on the next long climb up to the highest point of the race where the radio tower is. The other two guys hiked and I grabbed a low gear and chugged my way up. I needed a toilet stop, and wanted to build a buffer so I could get back on with the guys as they passed. Worked a treat and we could now see runners ahead, most hiking up the hill. All but one were half runners, the other was a lady in a red trucker cap whom I later met as Kate, another parkrunner!

Swampy and Keith took another hike break and again I continued to chug my way up, using the mantra “I train on much harder hills than this, I can run it and come back for more” True or not, I ran it all and reeled in the tail end of the half runners and found myself closing in on Kate just as we crested. The down was long and flowing, with soft gravel underfoot the impact was lessened and I happily opened up the gaite to take advantage of it. We passed more runners and I cheered many on by name (that’s how I found out Kate ran at the same parkrun as my family!)

Now things had got a little interesting as there were friends and strangers spread out on the trail, and the nature of the race meant for passing of some of the half runners. To be honest, this gave me a great lift and I found myself pulling away from Kate, spirits high as I picked my way ahead of each little group. I felt fast, I felt fresh and I felt in control. I would check my pace and saw it was still where I wanted it, but with high spirits and closing gaps it felt faster and it spurred me on to run.....with a smile.

As the distance went on I didn’t hit any walls, I didn’t have that feeling of making a terrible mistake like I have had right before an emotional crash. I feel I have got a better hand of these now and ride it more as a low than a crash. Every low now was met with focus “of course you feel bad, you didn’t eat sooner enough, have a Snickers Ben” (Eat’s a gel with mental picture of Snickers ad....laugh at my own joke) As a small train of us wound our way through some single track before I found myself behind a faster runner and I realised I had caught another marathoner. She was Jo, and a fox among the chickens as it were. We worked together asking politely to pass the half runners we caught (always met with space and a cheer too) As we popped out onto a wider section of trail we found it just being us, a brief chat and I could tell Jo was in a bit of a low, and possible slipping more. The pace had been good on the single trail so I slowed just a little and kept some conversation with Jo, if she could lift a little I would have a pace partner to work with. It was not long until I felt her fall back a little and seemed to let me go, so I called to her that we had more halves coming up and I declared “C’mon Jo, new targets to work for, ones even wearing orange, like your very own carrot!” and just like that, I saw her spirits lift and she was back along side me. I had to compliment her on that and she genuinely seemed back in a positive space. Thats the best part of working together, the tough times are not so tough, as Keith said “Get back in your box demons, I’m trying to have a conversation” Really works, and if you don’t have someone to talk with, sing, works just as well.

Not long as we struck the turnoff to Aid 2 and as we fell into single file to allow for the out and back traffic Jo slide off the back a little. I had a sudden surge of excitement, I would be seeing most of the lead runners here, possibly all. I did see the front runner half’s include the bullets Vlad and mate Chris in second, but missed the leader of the marathon. I did see most of the top 10, and I guess I was in top 30 and feeling sharp, where some of them did not look like they were having such a great time. Hi fives and smiles, I was having a ball anyway, but part of the game is no make sure the guys in front see how good you are feeling too hahaha. I hit the base of the Escalator, a rutted out steep climb that strikes fear into many, but I used my mantra again, having a training hill very similar close to home I run it almost every week, often in repeats up to 8 times back to back, “I got this” and again I grab a low gear and chug my way up. The traffic is heavy here though, even though the trail is wide, the ruts make for limited lines and soon I am tucked in behind some half runners. I figure it’s better to hike this and save some heart beats for later. I clear the worst of it and get back on the job into the aid. I meet my wife who volunteered there, we had a plan and it worked a treat. I call it the ‘Oakley Stop’ Dan and Alexis will love it!) One bottle of water for my vest, as kiss and turn around. It was fast and efficient and just perfect. As it turns out, I still had plenty of water in my vest, but I didn’t want to get caught out later in the game. I took the partially frozen bottle and enjoyed a few cool mouth fulls once I got back down the escalator. From the base to the top, the stop and part of the way back down I ran a 6:48 split, have to say I am pretty happy with that number! I was  working the ‘back’ and seeing pretty heavy traffic coming up the ‘out’, loads of cheers smiling faces and hi fives going both ways. I also passed a few gents in the beer bet along here and was surprised to see Shaun and Felix among them as they are both great runners. I felt like I was beginning to struggle here and had not got my leg speed back up to pace after the big up and down. I got some smooth road after re-joining the Munda Biddi and had a gel, the last ‘good’ one I liked, but it was caffeine free, ain’t nobody got time for that! I found an emergency No Doze and chewed that horrid thing down and hoped that it was a good choice as I had not planned on that and only ever had one before during WTF100. As it turned out I have no idea if it was good or not as I did not notice a change, but I certainly didn’t slump either.

At the base of the last noticeable climb I saw Tony, who came down to support after having to withdraw due to injury. He was all smiles and gave me a good boost right at the base of a climb. I passed two people on that climb but had to hike for two sections of it. My average pace had been looking great at 5:13 going into aid 2, but after two tough climbs it had slide back to 5:17 and I began to loose hope of making up time on the last 10km’s, not many people do that and again I had a doubt about sustaining a 5:15 average, I would need a few low 5′s to get it back in the right zone. As Yoda says, “Do or Do not, there is not try” so I was smart on the ups and kept my HR comfortable, and made sure I pushed on the flats and downs, less than 8 clicks to go now. Single digits.

There was less and less traffic now as both races had sorted themselves out, and the winding sections meant visibility ahead was short. I found myself wondering how far ahead Tim was, how many beer betters would go into the top 10 and even laughed when I thought “am I in with a chance?” I could still catch Tim though, he’s running in a wig for crying out loud!

I make a sharp right and hit an open section under the first lot of power lines and there are at least four runners ahead as I can see much further. The head wind is howling but I figure if I work this downhill against the wind I will pass some of the guys and maybe get a second back off my average...holy crap, I might jut get close to the 41 minute mark. Not long and I hit the second powerline section and as I round the bend to the small aid 3 station I run into Ben. Now the back story here is that Ben is a very good runner, I like him, big guy and big heart always smiling and fast. He won last years beer bet wiht a sub 4 fast. A guy I respect and never thought to be passing again, yet here I was about to scoot by. I could not believe it. We laughed and joked with 5 to go, I knew he would be right there, but I also knew there was only one parkrun to go, and if I can run it in close to 25 minutes I was going to hit my secret A goal. I had my last drink and emptied my cold water over my back and head, lighter load and no sloshing. Left foot right foot and high knees from here.

Once again I was running this section knowing I was being chased. Winding the single sections, half expecting/hoping to trip over Tim at some point, I came across another half runner and surged ahead, then another half runner with 2 to go, I thought I was done and was struggling to run low 5′s again, but seeing someone else gave me that last charge, Ben had dropped off a little and TIm was not to be seen, with 1 to go I could smell the barn and found a surge for a strong finish.

My lips tingled, sweat dripped as I bent forward with my hands on my knees trying to say my bib number for the table.Rob adorned me with my second 6 Inch finishers medal. Watch reads 4:10.03, just over 41 minute PB. I still can’t believe it.

Quick stats:

Race distance: 47.5km

Elevation: 894m

Entrants: ~350 full, ~100 half

Placing: 24th

Watch time: 4:10.03

I won’t sugar coat it, this will be a long read. If you are not into long reports, keep on scrolling!

I need to start at the beginning, and not 6am 26/9/15, the real beginning. In April 2014 I ran my first Ultra, was  50k road race in Bunbury. I had a great time, placed 8th and really enjoyed a fantastic weekend away. Many parkrunner’s travelled for the race, many supported Team Mito, the vibe was surreal and as some sort of unofficial team captain I really got swept up in it. Afterwards I came down hard, nearly drowning in my own depression that I could not explain. Chris, a mate and fellow parkrunner suggest this crazy 50 mile trail race was coming up. I looked it up and found it also had a 100 mile event. My mind spun and I was keen to try. The depression lifted with a few keystrokes and I was signed up for my first 82km race. A twisted part of me wanted the 100, but I did not qualify yet, I needed to prove to the Race Director I was up to the task and completed a 100km race within cut off. That was the beginning, and all the training and the crazy races have been a journey to get me to 6am Saturday 26th September, standing on the driveway to a camp ground in a little country town called Dwellingup.

The 100 starters, the 50 event starts at the other end, they do a point to point, the 100′s do an out and back on the same course.

The sun was up, and the weather looked to be perfect, if slightly on the warm side for running. After a last second (may have even gone over the last second) pee, we were away and the nerves melted away with every footstep as we zig zagged our way through the maze of trails heading out of the park.

The pack smoothed out and I found myself running with Crystal and we passed the km’s away while chatting. A look back and I saw Richard not far behind, who soon joined us. We were running pretty consistent low 6 minute km’s for the first 12km’s before we were broken up by toilet stops and a hike break. I then found myself alone in the front, a new feeling for me as this is rarely the case, normally if I’m in the front there is something wrong! I just kept to my plan of 6-7 minute splits, making sure I didn’t raise my heart rate too much, and ran to feel. Drink often, and eat every half hour.

The wonderful trails whiled away as I came to the sharp left turn onto a gravel road that takes us on and out and back section to the first aid station called Oakley Dam, rapidly becoming known as Treasure Island (16.6km at 1:41). I highly recommend visiting. A quick pitstop in the last toilet for 40 something km’s and I hit the road with a banana in my hand keen to gauge the gap of other runners, but the first runners I see are not Crystal and Richard, they must have missed the 3km out and back leg to the aid station. They were now ahead and at risk of a DQ. I did however see the rest of the field, all looking great and smiling, most running with someone else.

The next leg to the Squashrunning Works  aid station (race sponser, and also has helped me out with kit) at the Del Park Rd crossing had some great downhill sections and fantastic single track, I had to keep myself in check to not overheat my feet descending too fast so early, I had to look after them for later. I spent much of the leg considering Richard and Crystal, if I would catch them, see them turning back or if they would drop after being disqualified so early in a long race. I really wanted them to still race, both were considered favourites in the unofficial tipping comps. Eventually I thought (not that it was up to me anyway!) that they could do that section twice on the way back to even it up and we would still be racing, it would all come out in the wash later in the race. Before I knew it I was yipping and yahooing down a little technical descent to pop out at Del Park Rd, greeted by Chris, Clare and a couple of other people at the aid station (27.5km at 3:00). A short stop for gels and my first refill with Tailwind and I was on my way again, about 20 or so minutes behind Richard and Crystal. I was feeling good but I also knew I was in for a long 27km leg including an out and back over the races ‘bad boy’ hill called Goldmine, just as it was getting warm.

I was passing about 35km when I saw the first two runners of the 50 mile event coming through, both were steaming along with a great pace, was good to see other humans! It was about 9 or so minutes before I saw 3rd, then after that it was a steady spacing of runners, many were friendly races I have shared runs with before.

As I passed through the Whittakers Mill area I completed the first of four consecutive marathons in about 4:34 and caught Crystal. She was hiking a hill then stopped to stretch when I approached. We ran together onto the Scarp Rd junction. It was suddenly quite busy with humans everywhere! There were runners, spectators, and small aid station. My water was running low given the warmer than expected day, but I chose to stop on my return after Goldmine Hill rather than before to reduce the weight I had to carry back up the 3.9km gravel road climb.

It was on the short uphill section here I crossed paths with good friend and local parkrun legend Scott, hitting out at his longest race yet and holding his own in the 50 mile event. I was so pleased I got to see him for a fleeting moment, I couldn’t help but get my aeroplane wings out! I was surprised he got a pic of it! 

We laughed and spurred each other on. I then made my way over the summit and prepared to descend, when I came across Richard who was just finishing the climb. He apologised about missing Treasure Island. I said to run it twice later, don’t stress and keep racing. I didn’t want to see him DQ’ed, and I didn’t want it to affect his race, but the sound in his voice concerned me. (On the way back I calculated he had about 6km lead and 25 minutes gap) Time to descend, once again cautious of the soles of my feet and trying to conserve my quads as long as possible, I still ran my fastest splits going down, but I think it was wise to save some for later, I was going to need it. I made the turn at the bitumen and started the climb using a run walk strategy. Crystal was not far behind. I chose to use the power poles as guides and would run one gap, hike the next and alternated my way up, trying to drink often. It was a long climb, other than Crystal, the only other 100′s I saw were Alexis and Glen, both running well and in good spirits. (EDIT: I completely forgot I saw Ron too, spurring him towards the turn point with the lure of beach babes waiting there!) After the summit I got back to the little aid station, where the RD’s wife Belle was doing a stellar job. There were plenty of 50 milers in the area, I had a quick chat with Dave, and congratulated Jaqui on her football team making the grand final and drank a little too much water myself before hitting the trail again (almost in the wrong direction too, thanks Belle!), then off for what I consider the best sections of trail in the entire race. Heading towards the high spirits of the parkrun manned station. North Dandalup Aid Station, where also Alicia would be waiting, first time I had seen my wife since Friday morning.

I love this section of trail, has some climbs and descents, sweeping bermed bends and just sweet single tracks. It’s hard to not open the pace up when you feel good. I did feel good, I was on a bit of a high from seeing all the 50 field, my stomach was working on the water I just had and I knew my supplies were on point to the next stop. I just had to keep my eyes out for any brown sticks that moved.....it was warm now, and we had a few warm days before hand and getting tagged by an unseen snake was my biggest concern, snake bandage or not!

The last section of trail towards Dandy is a long fast downhill, followed by 1km of flat bitumen across the dam wall to the aid station (54.6km in 5:53). I knew it would be a great reception, and I was not let down seeing familiar faces, smiling away eager to lend a hand and boot me out back on track. They also informed me that Richard was still about 30 minutes ahead. We were certainly still racing, and if it stays like this it was going to get interesting later tonight. Resupplied on the heavy side I was back out for the second bitumen km over the second half of the dam wall, shelling a fresh boiled egg with one hand and clutching a banana in the other. Both went down well. Not expecting any more 50 runners coming, I thought I would crank up some tunes and work my way through the most technical leg of the race. This section had some gravel road sections, but also some short and sharp descents quickly followed by similar inclines. the sort of stuff I love on short training runs, but after the heat and distance, I was not enjoying seeing average splits well before the turn around. I passed the generous box of mandarins left out by a farmer and continued to grind my way towards Kingsbury Rd Aid station. A few emotional low points after the technical section had me employing advice from champion runner Bernadette Benson “Sing out loud, the positive will drown out the negative” One of the two hottest tips I have ever been given from another runner (the other being Tony Smith’s “smile on the outside no matter how you feel”, but you have seen the pictures, and know I already employ that one). Feels weird, and a little embarrassing when you cross paths with a mountain biker who surely heard me coming from a mile away  belting out the worst ever cover of Paul Kelly’s ‘To her door” but I tell you what, it lifts the spirits and keeps those legs moving, no doubt about it. Even laughing about being sprung picked me up. At least I will never see that guy again! (until he turns around we we crossed paths again a couple of hours later!)

Onwards I claw, balancing my fluid intake to the heat of the day and making sure it lasts until the next stop, I wrap my way around the pine plantation to run along smoother trails and I feel better about my progress. in between songs that I didn’t know the lyrics to I recalled last years 50 mile race and what was happening at this point a year ago. Before I knew it, I saw another human standing on the road, a sight for sore eyes, I sure hope they have some cold coke!

Kep Ultra RD and AURA social media ambassador Rob greeted me and snapped this pic on my way into Kingsbury Rd (72km in 7:57).

Other than Rob, I didn’t recognise any of the helpers or crew, but they were all champions to me, a complete stranger. Rob mentioned I was only 20 minutes behind Richard, it was confirmed he was still in the race and allowed to do the Dam section twice later that night. I was surprised to have made up 10 minutes on him through the technical parts. As we were wrestling with my vest and drop bags a lady asked a few questions about time and distance and seemed a bit in awe “thats crazy” seems to have been mentioned more than once. To me this is almost normal, long races have become part of my and my families life. Suddenly I was on my way out with coke zero in my stomach, another banana in my vest for later and a the thought of just how crazy this was, a little over a year ago I had not run one marathon, let alone almost four end to end, then my banana fell from my vest, splitting when it hit the ground. It pulled me from my reverie as I stopped to pick it up, I was not looking forward to it just yet, but now I had to eat it before it got dusty......I was already over banana’s and was glad this one stayed down.

The next section once again had some great trail sections, dappled shade and run-able surfaces. I found myself thinking of the last 5km into Jarrahdale, I have run it in both directions, and it’s a tough section. I estimate about 4 of those 5 km’s are up. The average pace was about to take a beating.

I dropped down the long gravel descent to the bridge belting out ‘Teenage dirt bag’ in preparation for the hard work ahead, I was still maintaining my 30 minute feeds, alternating each between gel and real food, supplemented with Tailwind (only 2 scoops per 2l)

The climbs started and I broke it up into short runs and short walks, mostly dictated by shade. Power hike the shade, run the sunny bits. I worked this plan and passed over my second marathon at 9:31 (5:04 for the second one) while doing the maths on Richard and trying not to notice the average pace slipping closer and closer to my A goal, it was too soon to lose sight of that. Just when I figured I should see Richard coming back out from the turn around I spot his white shirt ahead, right on time. There was something wrong though,  he was moving in the same direction, not coming towards me. Holy crap, I had caught him! I could not just run up to him, I was still working the climbs, but he was clearly moving slower, he had tipped out the last of a hand held earlier which I saw on the trail. I nearly missed a turn while in thought about it. As we came alongside we hike for a while together, then shared a run, was good to have a chat after not seeing anyone since Kingsbury. We were both thankful for the cooler afternoon.

We separated on another climb where I worked a bit harder to build a short lead into the turn around point, a piece of me wanted it recorded that I got there first, I closed the gap on the race favourite. I came into the aid station calling out “Ka Kaaw.....Ka Kaaw” like in the kids movie Robots. I was in high spirits again and about to gain the advantage of my pacer Grant.

I arrive at Jarrahdale (85km in 9:42) [which if I take into consideration the slight difference in course is about the same time I did the 50 race in last year and could not walk when I finished!] Alicia and two of my three pacers Rich and Grant are there to greet me. I tuck into the esky, Alicia covers me with a wet towel and I sort my vest as Richard arrives and leaves in a quick turn around. I sense something is not quite right with my crew though and there is a last minute change of plans. Grant is just getting over being sick, so the boys swapped legs and I was going to have Rich’s company for the next 30km’s instead. Was fine with me, with a mouthful of coffee beans we were back on the trail, only about 81km’s to go.

Rich was keen to run, I felt bad getting 100m up the trail and having to hike, he was so eager to chase down Richard who got some time on me at the stop. I knew we would see him again soon, no rush to break myself now. He was running the downs hard though and it took me another 5km and a big hill before I caught him again. Sadly, he didn’t look any happier than last time, we didn’t linger to talk, Rich and I broke the long climb up into runs and walks and built a solid buffer. I was now in the lead no matter which way it was looked at, either on the road, in calculations or on paper. It felt pretty awesome.

I was now getting tired though, noticing the highs and lows of the feeds, a few times I put Rich through a few tunes....poor guy. Not only did he get handed an extra 10km to run, he had to put up with my singing! Relentless forward progress, I ran what I could and hiked what I had to, but now the hikes were more frequent and I had to be more conscious of my footing. My left ankle was getting quite sore, and the under side of my left foot was feeling a bit beat up if I stood on a nut, rock or tree root so I had to pick clean lines and take care on sections of trail I would normally not give a second thought to. Rich was great company as we worked our way back to Kingsbury Rd.

At some point I asked Rich what his watch said distance wise so I would not have to calculate it myself, his response shocked me so much I had to laugh “yeah about that mate.....I kind of forgot to start it back in Jarrahdale” For 10km or so he had just been looking at the time! A couple of hundred from Kingsbury Aid we spot Grant’s red shirt ahead and we know we are close to another resupply. We hit the aid station (100km in11:36) greeted by crisps, water, some ginger beer and news that the last 100 mile runner still had not come through. I politely declined another banana, took some jerky and hit the road with Rich. I couldn’t eat the jerky so I left it for the ants. looking after my stomach as it got more fussy was high on my priorities, they are not joking when they say an army runs on it’s stomach, so do ultra runners!

Back to the technical section, armed with our head lamps we pick our way through the ups and downs in the failing light. Too light for the lamps to work properly yet too dark to see without it. Was a stunning sunset though, very bromantic for two stinky men talking about free mandarines!

Finally, we got through that section, and were now talking about the next mini goal of the road crossing less than 2km from the Dandy aid station (118km in 14:15). Rich would get to knock off and I would have a new back to stare at. This is where I thought my mind was starting to play tricks on me. I had heard of it happening to others and now it was happening to me. There was a human sized dragon standing in the middle of the road.

It takes a little longer than it should to register that it is Cassie, dressed in a Spiro the dragon onesie, complete with tail jumping and cheering. It was pretty exciting. As we jogged the last 200m into the aid station I asked her to calculate what pace I needed to go under 20 hours. Last years winner Hunter’s time had been my A goal, with an average pace of 7:11 per km, that slipped away not long after Kingsbury Rd, so my new goal I had secretly aiming for was under 20. Cassie the dragon is pretty happy to see a runner, even more happy it’s one she knows and she calculates I need an average pace of 7:20 to finished under 20 hours. I look at my watch at my current average is 7:20, with my left ankle feeling the way it does I won’t be holding this pace to the finish, even though the last part is easier to run than the section I just completed. I feel like I am sinking in a sea of smiles. I felt my voice quiver as I was surrounded by friends eager to help. Alicia later said she was worried about me at that point, but I had just been given what I thought to be bad news and we tend to be sensitive to that stuff after running for over 14 hours. At the same time I was told Richard had dropped at 100k which would probably make most people happy to know the heat was off, but I wanted him to hit his goals too, and the pressure of a race always gets the best from me. 

I left Dandy with Grant and the advice “You have an hour on Alexis, don’t break yourself getting it done” As we left I thought about that, and found myself agreeing. The pace from there certainly slowed, there was no pressure and my foot was now letting me know in no uncertain terms it was not happy with my new found distance PB, or anything that I stood on. On we forged for the 20km leg to Del Park Rd, at what must have been an agonising 10:00 average pace for Grant. We passed the Goldmine out and back, thankful we didn’t have to do it. Grant was happy to be getting a look at the 6 Inch Marathon course. His first look, at least he had plenty of time to look around along the way. We had an hours lead, and I doubed that Alexis is feeling much better at this point too. As we passed though some more great trails I found myself asking about distance to go more often, I didn’t put Grant through any singing but I was not exactly chipper either. My 3rd marathon of the day slipped past unnoticed at 15:44, taking 6:13 to complete. At least the night was cool. I was still drinking well and now toilet stops were becoming incredibly frequent to the point of being ludacris. I had to keep drinking to get the Tailwind and rinse the dust from mouth so I had to just balance the stops as best as possible.

About 8km from Del Park Rd my second “are things right in my head” moment occurred, right in front of me was a ball of spikes. Grant had ran right past it, so was it real? I stopped and touched it, it certainly was real. A real echidna on the track and I just pat it, Grant came back and got his phone out and got a picture of me patting it. This echidna was real and now there is a photo of it! How awesome!

We pressed on a little longer as my lamp batteries faded and then were greeted by the RD Dave, out for a late night leg stretch. 6.4km to go to the next aid station. I normally knock that out in less than half hour during training....not tonight, was going to take over an hour. Nothing like having a national runner join you for a few 10 minutes km’s......not embarrassing at all hahaha I was thankful for the extra light and conversation though, and liked it more when Grant and Dave talked between themselves and I could just tune in without thinking too much, it drowned out the song of my ankle which I was trying to ignore. I ran what I could, but there were a lot of hikes coming into Del Park. Finally, we hit the small zig zag section coming into the station, high on my list of wants, new lamp batteries and some crisps.

I fumble into Del Park Road (138km in 17:41) where I am greeted by Alicia, Rich and the last pacer Dan, who was almost uncontrollably shivering while waiting for me to have my stop. This was the longest stop of the entire race. The guys said they were short on info about Alexis, but last they heard, I was in front by about an hour, which to me confirmed he was probably just as sore and tired as I was and was running similar splits. I thank Grant for pacing me the last 20km and bid him farewell as Dan and I started climbing the short technical hill I had whooped and hollered my way down earlier that morning......was certainly more fun coming down on fresh legs than going up on tired ones. We thought the pressure was off, so the pace was easy and I just tried to look after my foot. Dan was great company, we joked and laughed with every beep of my watch...”A new distance PB!”

After crossing North Spur road we began the long 2km climb to the phone tower which is the highest point of the race, with 21 km to go Dan got his phone out and snapped a picture. As we joked about knocking out a sub 90 half to finish off we came to a fork in the track that made us doubt if we took the correct one, and we spend a minute or so backtracking to confirm we were on the right path before setting off once again. Not long after there were lights behind us. It took a moment for us to realise they were not car head lights (they were very bright) driving up the track, but they were runners, and they were making ground very fast! It could only be Alexis and his pacer Ben!

There was no discussion, there was no contemplation, everything that hurt suddenly shut up and I was running as fast as my legs would carry me up that hill. The boys are adamant they didn’t run much of the hill, but from what I could see they were close for a very long time. As I ran along with this wild sense of urgency, my mind is racing between what just happened and how long I could keep this pace up. Turns out that most of that hour melted away when I was taking it easy with Grant and patting echidna’s. They were only 25 minutes behind us at Del Park, the lads had kept a good pace all along and chipped away at my lead and almost passing before Treasure Island, the final aid station. I charged the downs, and worked the up’s as best I could. I was thrilled and energised. I can only describe it as if I was running from the police. I was excited and panicking all at the same time. The same thing happened at the exact same place last year where I was caught by another friend Barb during the 50 race. I was determined to not get passed before the aid station. We made a buffer on the last hill before the climb in and Dan moved ahead to let Alicia know I just wanted a water bottle. This was going to be one very fast stop. (136km in 19:32) As I arrived Rich tell’s me to calm down, “Alexis is 25 minutes behind you dude” “no he’s not, he’s right there!” pointing to Ben, his pacer that was standing behind Rich and looking pretty happy about it! I pocketed my bottle and was out of there for the last 17km leg to the finish line.

At the time I had no idea what happened with Alexis. I was not sure if he got to Del Park and was told I was not far away and then charged hard, I was not sure if he pushed to pass and could not hold it or if he was simply having an amazing race, but any way you skin it he was within reach of taking the lead from me, one I had worked on for so long. I ran walk the hill out of Treasure Island using the guide posts as markers. I tried to eat a slice of balled up cold pizza but my stomach didn’t like that, I tried to have a ‘no doze’ as a form of boost for the last section home, but I could not swallow it either so I stayed on warm Tailwind and fresh water in my handheld bottle. I chugged up the last hill back onto the Munda Biddi trail like a little choo choo train before we could open the pace up again.

Unfortunately, the increased pace didn’t help the all too regular toilet stops and I fell back into a pattern of run, walk run, pee, run, walk while Dan set the pace and kept an eye out over our shoulders. We still had a way to go so I had to eat something. It took a bit of hiking to slowly eat a Gu before I could run again. It all stayed down but I felt like I was on the edge now and if I pushed hard now, I would have nothing left to defend later so we backed the pace off a little and kept an eye out for the ever bright glow which may or may not be coming from behind.

At about 162km we passed into a camp ground, and I could see someone moving about their site with a head lamp. The campground is about 250m long, as we got to the other side Dan notices a glow behind us and I am confident it’s not the boys attacking again, but the camper I just saw, until Dan says “no mate, there are two very bright lights” and all over again I felt charged. I have no idea how, but the pain and swelling was put aside and I just tucked in behind my pacer and ran for what felt like my life. I have never won a race before, not in school, never even came home first in a parkrun so being in the lead now, after 100 miles of running was an awesome feeling. Something inside me did a silly little deal that if he going to pass me I was at least going to make him work for it.

Dan and I charged like thieves in the night (well one thief was tired so it was not super fast but it felt it!) My body ran as fast as I could sustain without cramping or vomiting. I was drinking what I had left to lighten the load. It was on, an incredibly close finish. If I tripped, fell vomited or peed I would lose my position in the dying moments of the race.

We ducked and weaved our way through some great single track, along familiar features. Dan and I both remembered the dam, with the shed and dogs 3km from the finish. Dan comments between heaving breaths “the dogs will bark, and we will know how far back they are” to which I replied “double edged sword....but they will bark for us too giving our lead away” The dogs did bark for us, and the boys said they heard them too. As we turned a sharp bend that wraps around the farmers dam we could see back along the trail, and no lights. We were a little confused, they were not far back, where have they gone? What are they playing at? Have they turned off they big lights and running on small ones or black out to catch us unaware? How could they just be gone? So we kept the same pace, and ran as best as I could with all my internal alarm bells ringing, screaming to stop, lay down and rest. It was almost too much excitement for a boring person like myself to be awake at 3:30 in the morning...how far have we got to go? Then Dan heard the dogs barking again, we had a gap again, but not time to slack off, about 2km to go.

Dan navigated the winding single track, spurring me on. I was doing my best not to trip or fall, amazed at how I was moving like this after being through so much. My watch ticks past 163km and I am confident we have less than 1km to go. Most activities I had seen in the past said between 163km and 164km, and we could not see the glow behind us, we must have made some space. Our efforts change from looking for light behind us to looking for lights in front. The town and campground lights should be visible through the trees very soon.

Ahead we see a light, and I stress that I hope it’s not Rich come to run the last km in with us as the pacers are welcome to do. I don’t think I can run another km, I had my mind locked into this distance and one more may very well break me. The light was a street light and before I know it Dan and I both see lights in the campgrounds, we make the last left turn towards the back of Chalet 1 and a small group of hard core helpers whom stayed up all night to welcome in the finishers. I would have thought I would of cried, it was a pretty big deal finishing let alone winning but I guess I was in shock. I could not thank Dan enough for his help, I sat on a log and waited 8 minutes for Alexis and Ben to finish. It turns out they did not see our lights ahead the second time, so they kept the same pace after we pressed on and built a buffer, running like mad men!

At the finish after 163.6km with two of the three pacers. Rich on the left, Dan on my right at about 3:45 in the morning after leaving 21 hours, 45 minutes and 22 seconds ago and holding the lead (if only just) all day.

They say if you train for a marathon it changes you and after being through this, and seeing the efforts runners in both events put in, I would have to agree even more so for an ultra, we are a special kind of crazy!

Left to right, myself, Alexis 2nd and Glen 3rd. Three of the five sub 24 buckles achieved this year.

As for Crystal, she went on to complete both her trips to Oakley dam, and won the ladies race but didn’t finish in time for a buckle. As with all finishers, a very gutsy run.

I can’t thank the people that helped this day enough. 100 Miles in one day.....complete!

Final random stats:

Out time: 9:47 - Return time: 11:58 Total: 21:45

1st mara; 4:33 2nd; 5:04, 3rd; 6:13 4th (5.2km short) 6:00 hours

Calories: 13,735

Start weight, 66.8kg, finish weight 64.1kg

I will try keep this more brief than most of my other races. See how we go.

Two weeks ago I managed to scamper away 600km with some friends splitting the fuel costs and leaving the family behind for a 4 day ‘bromantic man-cation’ Almost last minute, we decided to enter Kalgoorlie’s Pipeline Marathon.

I am in training for my first 100 mile race, so this was a mix of long run and tune up race. I really didn't know what I was going to do, or even the shoes I was going to wear until it was too late. Last minute I went for Altra 3Sum road shoes (actually tri shoes!) for a red dirt and rock trail race, and then about 5km into the race I decided on the pace, but I am getting ahead of myself a bit.

The drive up was great, we travelled Friday, visited Kalgoorlie parkrun on the Saturday, socialised and toured the afternoon including an adventure out to the remote two up ring. Saturday night the event hosted a pasta party. Sunday morning was an early fresh start riding the provided bus to Coolgardie for the race start at 7am. There were 70-80 starters in the full event and before we knew it we were cantering down the famous water pipeline providing Kalgoorlie’s second most crucial lifeforce (after beer!)

Rich (my chauffeur and travel companion) and I found ourself ticking over 4:30km’s and quickly settled into a group of six runners and things were shaking out nicely as we got the two larger hills out of the way early on.

10km’s in and two of our group slid off the back, leaving four running in two by two down the red dirt trail.

I don't normally drink or eat much during this type of paced race but I slowed at the aid stations to keep our group together, I am not a very strong solo runner, and feel more consistent working with others oppose to going it alone. We took turns in the front setting the pace and our splits were pretty steady in the low 4:30′s.

Before long we spotted a runner ahead and the two leaders of our pack started to lean on the pace as they worked to reel in the flagging marathoner and for the few km’s approaching the start of the half marathon course we were cruising at 4:20 pace. I took my first gel on approach to the aid station at the halfway point, a sip of water to rinse it down and we were away again.

We arrived at the half point at about 1:34. This point was a cool lift as the course was lined with the half marathoners who were gearing up to start. Claps, cheers and a few familiar faces calling out our names. An awesome boost.

As we left I thought it wise to speak up about our pace, we were working well together, but I knew I for one would struggle on that terrain to continue with 4:20′s, once we regrouped I casually declared “Can we settle the 20′s down and go back to 30′s?” We all laughed and the pace returned to the 30′s which I feel was a wise move. The then pace setters were a first time marathoner and another on PB pace, the group would have been in trouble trying to hold that pace later in the race.

We continued down the pipeline, taking in the views, small chat and we sometimes caught a glimpse of a runner ahead. We waited for the faster half marathoners to round us up.

After the turn away from the pipeline at the 26km point we passed the satellite dishes and found ourselves running a very well marked trail, some parts slightly softer sand. With so few runners ahead it was not overly chopped up and we managed to keep the hammer down and maintain our race pace. It was in here that we were passed by the lead half marathon runner. Not long later, second passed us too. Winding through here we dropped to a group of three as we lost our first time marathoner who had earlier been pushing the pace down.

Just before the 10km race start we hit an aid station and we lost another runner off our pack as he attempted to drown himself in a cup of water. I had my second gel and another splash of water. Ahead the last two of us (the other gent was a 3:06 marathoner but coming back from injury) could see the 10km start. There was a mob on the road, some running some walking but all certainly headed for the same place.

As the pair of us weaved our way through the crowds, cheering and calling to the other runners we were greeted with familiar faces and we steamed past the back of the pack. I felt a bit chuffed over hearing a few comments including one lady calling head for people to move as “half marathoners are coming through” only to hear someone else say “actually, those two are running the marathon” “holy sh*t!” Hahaha. We laid down a 4:27km and then resurrected from his drowning our latest lost runner returned to pace putting the trio back together where we went back to work counting down the km’s. Single digits to go, home straight.

Five out from home we hit the last aid station and lost the oldest and fastest of our group. Two more half marathoners passed us, but none others managed to round us up. Down to a pack of two we made the turn to the back of the golf course. My legs were tiring now and the pace had slipped to high 4:30′s. We were both struggling and trying to draw energy from the finish line. I thought to myself “the last few are meant to be hard, you're doing it right” and we pressed on. The golf course seemed massive, almost never ending. Then ahead we could see another runner, possibly a flagging 10k runner who went out too hard. We focus on him as we close the gap.

1km to go and we see some photographers, a sign and some cheers as we approach the main driveway that enters the golf course, not far to go from here. I suddenly realise I know the runner ahead, I thought he was behind me all the time. He is a well respected runner, and has always outperformed me. Today he had done it tough, working alone the whole race. I felt good and even though I thought I could not lift I did. I found a reserve and quickened my pace. Splitting the last of the group and over taking to gain what I later found out was 5th place in the last km push. The course measured a little long at 42.6km. Race time amazingly was EXACTLY the same race time and my previous City to Surf Marathon time. 3:12.27. According to my watch I went through the actual marathon distance in 3:10.34 which is a PB for me on both counts.

Somehow, without a plan in place, I kind of fell into an amazing race. I really enjoyed the event, the people who set it up, volunteered, our most wonderful hosts Rob and Barb (Barb has been in a few of my race reports!) I also owe a hat tip to our group, whom worked together for so long setting three PB’s and one other a much better result than he expected after his injury.

If you are looking for a great trail 10k, Half or full marathon (rumour has it a 50 may be on the cards in the future too!), head up to Kalgoorlie in 2016, you won't be disappointed.

I am a firm believer that as a runner and participant, we should take time from our own races to contribute back to the event scene. This weekend just gone was the Hoka One One Kep Ultra. A 75/100 km event from Northam to Mundaring Weir. It was also my chance to give  a little back to our little Perth running community.

Up before the big ball of far away flame, I was on the road and heading about an hour out of Perth to my road marshal position. I got off pretty easy in the alarm clock department, many runners were up much earlier, and some volunteers were on the road at 2:30am getting the event road signs in position. Anyway you skin it, it was a fresh start to the day for everyone.

The marshal point I was at was a simple task, directing runners to stay on the road and not deviate down a side track which I assume has lured runners down in the past.

I got to see the entire field come past, all but one was happy (one lady had a fall and her wrist was not happy with the outcome), There were chatty and smiling runners stretching along our section of road for about an hour. We all love ultras in the first leg!

Before I knew it our duties here were over, the capped field of 87 all coming past well under time.

From there I had a large portion of the day to travel the course and absorb runners in action and get a few pics. It was a great experience seeing peoples kit, shoe selection, drop bags and aid station activities. When I am racing I rarely get the chance to look up, and if I am crewing I am only concerned with my runner. Sunday was like a smorgasbord of trail runners, one I could enjoy without fatigue and split pace concerns.

Aid Station 1, Clackline is at the 19km point of the race. First chance runners had to remove some layers from the brisk start. My chance to see the tail of the pack come through, sneak some pics and watch people go through their aid process. Some were quick, some lingered, but everyone seemed happy.

On the road once again, leaping forward hoping to catch my runner from later in the day and see how she was going. I had my cowbell on my lap, and whistle in my mouth ‘cheering’ anyone I could see on the parallel trail as I drove by. A few waves confirmed at least some heard my support.

Arriving at Bakers Hill (26 km) I quickly learned I had missed Barb as I saw a couple of the mid pack come past. She was motoring along and I knew I had to make a bigger jump to catch some of the lead pack. I was amazed at just how much distance a runner can cover while you are getting sorted!

A quick stop at Wundowie (34 km) I saw a large chunk of the field come through. My runner was in great spirits, a few friends looked good too, although Shaun K (bearded man in tutu featured from the earlier Australia Day Ultra) was not looking so flash, I knew he would pull out of that slump, we all do eventually.

On the road again and I knew I would have to make a bigger leap to catch the front runners. I was doubtful to see much of the rear again. The runners were now spread over quite some distance. Bypassing Aid 2, I jumped to Chidlow (53 km), where I had time to have a bite to eat and a warm coffee. The leader of the 100 km stormed through catching me off guard, followed by more runners leading their fields in the men’s and ladies races over both distances. Only 6km from here the two events part company as the 100′s descend the escarpment and the 75′s make their way to the finish via an out and back.

After seeing the lead pack come through it was time for me to get ready for my runner at the final aid station. After a quick detour to another marshal point to drop off my cow bell collection, I dropped my van at the finish line and met my wife and kids for a lift to the Bellevue Aid Station (80 km) While doing the vehicle swap we got to see the first 5 runners of the 75km race come in. Nathan F had a massive grin as he made the last turn and Bernadette B was in great form as she finished as first lady to also claim a new course record.

Down to the last aid station to meet Barb (whom for regular readers I had raced in my first 50 miler, and we finished together) Barb’s endurance pace has skyrocketed since WTF50 last year. I was excited and even a little nervous about pacing the favourite lead lady on the final 23 km of her 100 k race.

The time we were expecting Barb came and went. Her husband Rob had said she was pretty much textbook perfect all day, but she was a little later than expected now (by little I am talking less than 10 minutes) She popped up on the horizon and I bid my family farewell. For me, it was time to go to work.

Unfortunately not many pics from here, was all business until the finish.

Barb came in with another runner and to be brutally honest, she did not look the best. There was no smile, she was short of breath and said her stomach had gone away. This was going to be tough, the last leg was a 23 km almost constant climb up an old railway line. We took a few moments to refresh. Barb took a towel, washed down, light drink and some potato before putting her pack back on. Her heart rate had come down and she looked far better than when she came in. Back to the office, but this time she had fresh company.

We walked out of the aid station after a pretty short stop in the scheme of things and the runner she came in with walked out with us. His name was Sean, and he had no pacer for the last leg. He didn’t talk much, but as we got the first couple of k’s underway, I was confident we would drop him. I know Barb is a strong finisher, and the rolling down hills late in the leg suit her style. We just had to stay in good shape for then.

The first 5-6 k’s went by with a lot of positive talk. Sean still quiet. We were running far more than walking as Barb dictated when it was steep enough to hike and when to start running again. We were averaging 6:30-7:00 for the first 9 km’s of this leg. As I was describing what was coming up, road crossings and car parks trying to give my runner confidence I knew what I was doing and where we were going, Sean asked “is it marked well enough to find on your own?” I knew then he was going to fall off the back. Not long after the next road crossing exactly that happened. That gave Barb a little boost as she opened the gap.

As we passed over the 12 km mark we had the largest part of the climb covered, I was now confident to start talking about the distance remaining “ 9 point something km’s to go from here, that’s only single digits” “after this km it’s only 8 to go” I got Barb to walk one road crossing and have something to eat to fuel the last push. She was drinking every km or so but didn’t want to eat anymore. I know the feeling only too well.

Shortly after we had a long smooth decent and I looked back over my shoulder, not expecting to see anyone, but there was someone in a grey shirt, Sean was wearing blue. Barb must have seen the look on my face and glanced back too.....and the pace quickened! We kept that runner at bay for some time, but as we hiked a short climb he passed us, revealing he had no bib and was just another trail runner out on a nice Sunday run. Energy spent outrunning someone that was not even a threat. 

Almost to the top we were greeted by a small black and white Jack Russell type breed of dog. Barb had 90+km’s in her legs and didn't feel comfortable around loose unpredictable dogs. I was shouting and waving, a couple of times chasing the persistent dog away, the owner could be heard calling the dog, but never actually seen. I didn't see it as much of a threat but Barb didn’t need to be worrying about things like that. (later in the night we found out that that dog and one of it’s mates attacked the 3rd place men’s 100k runner Paul H, opening up  wounds on each of his calves)

Barb kept the pace up, but soon after we had Sean’s blue shirt back on our tail. I checked my watch recalling recent splits. We had not slowed very much yet the man I was confident about dropping was closing in fast. As he passed at an impressive speed, I paid him a compliment to which he replied “I have nothing left but desire” He really wanted to go under 10 hours and sure was having a tilt at it. I knew we would see him again, just was not sure if it would be before the finish or not. As it turns out, he kept the hammer down all the way, an impressive finish in 10:02, just missing his goal.

We reached Sculpture Park, where we left the railway trail and joined the Munda Biddi/Kep track. As we reached the intersection we were greeted with a heap of parkrunner’s. Some marshals Sara and Chris, Dan a good mate was there snapping pics, another 75k runner Jon S’s family were there too. As luck would have it, so was Jon, join in for the home straight of the 75. There was a flurry of excitement as we made the turn, passing Jon Barb took on another burst of speed. Knowing it was the last straight and over taking a runner all seemed to converge at the same time and before I knew it we were motoring along on the trail again, often smashing down slopes at low five minute k pace.

Here comes Barb’s big finish!

With about 6km to go we started to really count off the distance “a parkrun and a cool down to go from here” “less than a jog to the shop and back” “less than half hours work left and you can have that hot shower” I wanted to keep her positive, try to stoke the fire of the finish line. Barb had a couple of very small slumps, she was working hard and her A goal was slipping away, we had already set a B goal and worked hard for that. With less than 3 k to go we realised she was going to be closer to 10 hours than she though, and once again she was off like a mad woman, charging down the downs and still running almost all the ups.

I really was amazed and her grit and determination. I wanted to push her, but also know I had to do it softly, we walked the stairs both down and up, and just before to 10 hour mark we put on our required safety vests. The final charge was on. 

I was spurring her on with cues, “that brown sign is the turn” “1st lady coming through, you earned this mate and it’s all yours” The last road is a steep bitumen climb, must be shattering after already running 100 km. We broke the charge up using the marker hats on the side of the road, I counted down steps to the next break. As we crested there was no more hiking. Barb wanted this done, she was the leader and she came home strong.

Almost 103 km in 10:07 and change. Over 10 minutes faster than my near flat track time. Astounding performance, and a great experience to share, probably the closest I will ever get to a win! I was super proud to be part of the day.

Barb was very happy with my help, and I certainly felt all warm and fuzzy for the compliment. I stayed for the BBQ. Many stayed late into the night and a few of us crazies even stayed until the last runner came in a smidge after 9:30pm. 

Driving home I had the down time to reflect on the day. I didn’t walk away with a medal or t shirt, yet was pretty amped up. I got to share a fantastic race, organised at such a professional level and see the entire field at least once.

If I can’t afford to enter a race, I sure don’t mind getting up early to help out and still be part of it.

This race was to be many firsts for me, some I was expecting, and some caught me off guard. For the best insight, I must begin before the race. I had never fundraised before and I had never ran 100 k before either, lets do both.

This was to be the longest I had ever run, and knowing such I put every effort into training that I could. As a family man, small business owner and an ultra runner it’s hard to make everything fit. I am often asked “how do I do it?” Put simply, it was a case of wanting something so bad that I would sacrifice spare time to get prepared. I ran most of my training alone, and week days was often late at night, usually not getting out the door to start until 8:30 - 9:00pm after the kids were asleep and dinner had settled. On weekends I would combine running with social activities, running to parkrun, running to meet the family at the beach, sometimes running more than once a day.

Running filled the gaps between family, work and sleep and sleep was often ranked lower than training. The training program continued, and I could feel the benefits. Late in the program I began to set new bests. I set new 1km and 5km times. I was running hill repeats up hills I used to have to walk up and I was injury free. Things were almost perfect.

The lead up.

The Wednesday before the race, news was released the trail race had been changed. Terrible Sydney weather caused closure of the parks, I feared on the eve of departing it would be cancelled. The event organisers worked hard to produce a Plan B, 155 laps of a 646m gravel loop. I didn't know what to think, my head was in a spin for two days. I was seriously considering throwing the race and running the trails with just my crew support but settled those thoughts down and prepared for the race. It was time to focus and get my head into the new format.

The Friday before the race we visited the track, registered, walked the course which was wet on the inside line and cambered more than I expected, with a slight rise at one end. Toilet facilities were close to the track edge. Alicia and I had borrowed a table and esky to put beside the track as our own aid stop. Even though this was a track, it was still going to be tough in other ways, 155 laps means passing my wife and friend Hunter, passing a chair, passing the way out of this madness 155 times! The camber would be tough, and no hills would mean the same muscles would be worked hard, and muscles I hard trained would hardly get used. I was not prepared for a track race, but it was going to have to do.

Race day.

I was of mixed emotional this being held on ANZAC Day. A former soldier myself ANZAC Day is something sacred to me. The event aired the Sydney dawn service on a big screen, but it was not the same standing in gaiters and removing my Buff for the Ode. An older gent talked through much of the service and the air of the event was a miss match that I struggled with. Alicia and I then headed for the hire car for my last sit down. My last chance before I would ask more of my legs than ever before.

While at the car, I met other runners and their crew, the sun was up and we were putting the finishing touches on our kit, it was almost time for the pre race brief and national anthem. We were then given the choice regards turning, put to vote. With the option of 2, 3 or 4 hours, it was decided (against my liking) for 4 hours...at least we got to change direction! That camber was steep in places and running one direction only would be hell.

Next thing I know I am standing at the back of the field, corralled as ‘Commando Steve’ is counting down. I work my way forward, gently picking my way past entrants. At about mid pack we were off, I am sure I was smiling as I started to trot, scanning the spectators to wave to Alicia filming the start, it was here, and finally I was running in my first 100.

Immediately it was clear there was a wide spectrum of entrants. With a mix of relay runners, teams and solo entrants like myself it was hard to gauge the field, hard to settle into a group so I just ran what felt comfortable and hovered at the 5:15 to 5:20 pace.

As the laps continued, the field spread out, it did not take long to lap the walkers and see the back of the pack. The track had been separated into low and high sides, the high for walkers and ‘plodders’ and the low side was the race line. I don't think the segregation lasted much more than the first lap.

With about 200 people on such a small loop course, and a variety of abilities there was going to be much weaving, and within the first 5km I knew it was going to be more taxing than I had given it credit for, walkers on the run line would be the bane of my day! (Post race chatter made it clear I was not alone in my feelings)

I held that pace and felt really well. Every 45 minutes I had a gel handed to me from over the fence, washed down with a lap carrying a bottle. The plan was working perfectly, even though I knew it was a pace I could not hold all day. I went through the half marathon distance in 1:52.30 and feeling fantastic. My only concern was a callous under my left big toe. It felt like it was splitting. It took a few laps to figure out it was something in my sock, caught under the callous. At 25km I stopped, and changed just that sock which fixed the issue straight away. I ran with my earphones in place, but no music, holding off until the 25km mark, where it was a welcome distraction from the same weaving scene. My own personal treat.

The laps ground on, water, gel, water and electrolytes. Around and around we went. Eventually the timing system was up and Alicia could check the results. Early on I was about 13th, but slowly climbed up the ranks without an extra effort in pace. Things were going well.

Hunter arrived when I was inside top 10 and it was good to see him. He checked in on me and caught up with Alicia before having to duck out again, returning later.

To this point there is not much to say really. The field was so spread out, relay runners were dropping off and fresh runners were joining the field. It was impossible to know who was who without asking. Some people ran fast, some slow, some jogged and some walked with hiking poles on the run line....around and around we still went. My pace was holding well and I felt stable, 5 ‘teens’ ticking away.

As I approached the marathon distance (42.2km) my times slipped slightly to just under 5:30 but I still felt good, smiling to Alicia as I passed the marathon in 3:47. Next milestone was 47 km, a race I did last year which I was well inside of time wise too. Things were awesome, I felt good and reports from Alicia said I was up to 5th place in the solo runners field of 182. I was beaming on the inside.

Thankfully we turned at the 4 hour mark, and after running in the same direction it felt unusual to change. “If it goes well only one more turn to make, six more hours to go.....god that’s a long time”

50km passes in 4:30, 15 minutes under my first 50km race time and I stopped for a toilet break. (Some thing’s  can be the weirdest treats!) It’s at this point I felt I was moving more laboured. Looking now over my data my heart rate had been climbing slowly pretty much since I turned the music on. Coming out from the toilet block I could not get my pace back down and my legs wanted to walk and my chest hurt with an uncomfortable crushing feeling. I had to get my heart rate back down, and walking was the only way. I broke up every second lap with a short walk phase which made me feel better in both the legs and chest, but it broke my spirit. Negative thoughts flooded my brain, and the urge to cry would pass over my like a breaking wave. I knew I was in the process of blowing up and I feared my race was over, barely past half way. “I should stick to 50k’s”, “you can’t death march the last 50k...run!” It’s hard to explain to people that have not felt these emotions and how they ebb and flow over such a long period. The wrong thought can invoke a tailspin of emotions. I was angry and disappointed with myself. “People paid hard earned money for this and you are walking...wasting this opportunity” Sounds silly to write it now and probably sounds ludicrous to you reading it, but I can't explain the feelings at the time any better.

During this period I also struggled with my bladder, which kept sending me messages to go to the toilet, but when I got there I could not go. I have since learned this is a dehydration issue. I must have stopped 6 times in 30km’s with no relief.

My chest hurt so much, like it was in a vice, but I dared not speak of it. I said to Alicia before the race “Don't let me stop unless I need an ambulance” I really didn't want one waiting for me! My rate had lowered but still there was this discomfort. At 63 km I removed the heart rate strap as a final decider “If this fixes it, I will go on until the finish, if the feeling continues I will leave the track while I am still upright”

Within meters I felt better, and on I pressed. Hunter returned to the track and him seeing me looking so second hand made me feel terrible. He had given up his time for me and I was wasting it with walk breaks, I even stopped once and lingered at the table for a minute or so before being pushed (as I had requested before the race) back out. “Less talk more walk mate” I didn't want to hear that, I wanted to hear nice things like “come sit down, relax and come put those weary legs up” The siren songs of the aid station. The crew told me what I needed to hear, not what I wanted to hear. I am fine with that!

I tried to reduce walk breaks to two small sections of track, every second lap or so, I had to get my body back under control, I had to get my head straight. Alicia reported I was still inside the top 10. Hunter was baiting me with runner descriptions and time gaps. They all helped. On I ground languishing between the ‘death march’ and the ‘why am I hear doing this shuffle’ My friends and family had paid money for my best, and this did not feel like my best.

At 70km I got a whiff of the finish line. Something sparked inside of me, a tender small weary flame. Hunter told me the pace required to still finish under 10 hours, it seemed impossible but I still had a sense of getting this done. I might be outside of the first goal but maybe I can hang onto a top 10. We change how I was taking my gels as my stomach was not playing nice and I had let my nutrition slide out from 45 minutes to just over an hour. I took to sipping the gels over 2 laps and trying to get more water in. I was told to be more direct with my race line. I was wasting time and energy going around. I knew I was too generous taking the long way around the walkers, so I changed my style to stick to the low side, and if a walker forced me into the mud then they may have got splashed as I went past. Either way, I was sticking to the low side, the race line!

Soon the bright sunny day gave way to clouds, followed by big fat rain, cold big fat rain. Rain that changed state. We were being hailed on! It did not last for long, and the hail did not get very big, about a pinky fingernail size at the most. After that the skies cleared again, staying dry for the rest of the race. We heard later that hail storm tore half of Sydney apart. We were lucky to barely be brushed by it.

I realised I had not walked in some time, and although I was now running 6:30 - 7:00 splits, it felt like I could hold it. I was running again and focused. No more toilet stops, not more crushing chest feelings and no more walking. It was slow, probably ugly to watch technique wise but I was not walking and the finish line was edging closer. I was going to get this finished as soon as I could.

Past 82 km (50 miles) an hour faster than I had previously run it, the flame grew as I was now running in PB distance land, it felt good. I felt determined; I was clawing my way back. I refused to give into my own inner weakness. I was shaping a new me after baring my sole to myself, seeing who I really was and what mettle I was made of.

As a relay runner scampered past like a startled gazelle....6:00 minute pace I tried to latch on and run with her. I wanted to get back into the saddle and sometimes lifting is easier if you have someone setting the pace for you. I stayed about half a lap before my abductors cramped on me. Something new as I don't normally cramp. The camber, duration, pace and lack of hydration was all catching up with me. The new me changed tack, and settled off that pace, try again next lap. Little by little I would hang onto the faster runners as they came past, if only for a little while.

With a half marathon to go the burden of distance seemed to lift, “I run that distance all the time” I told myself. The pace ground on, slowly coming down. At first 7’s, the 6:45’s, then 6:30’s. I was amazed. Hunter yells from the sideline “Good to see you have something left in the tank” It felt like his time was not wasted on me, I had not given in and I was giving it my best crack. I had found the mythical reserve, now I just had to manage it to the line.

“10 miles to go” I call out.....I can do that, only 3 parkrun’s really. On the splits go, although it seems to take a lot longer to hear the familiar kilometre beep.

I pass 87 km, the same distance as Comrades marathon down course well under 9 hours and I call out to the team as I pass. The flame grows a little more.

I know what’s coming soon, and I dread it. I am joined again on the track by Hunter and told to eat “it’s been too long mate, you need something for the finish.” I really don’t want to eat, my brain is not working too well though and I struggle to put together a compelling argument. We met in the middle and I had some flat coke, he got to eat my grapes. Around and around some more.

Hunter drops in beside me to give me the news that I would miss the sub 10, but I knew. I had already set a new goal to finish before sun set. Hang onto 10th and finish before dark. Those seemingly simple thoughts pushed me on. 10 km’s to go and I felt electric. Amazingly my pace was holding in the mid 6:30’s.

I ran the inside line, I splashed, I didn't even waste energy looking up or talking. My visor on backwards so I could see feet ahead. I can only describe it as being in the zone. First place had finished which was a sign of the final leg.

One parkrun to go, I visualise my local course and picture each km leg, imagining myself there among friends. 4 km’s to go Hunter tells me I could catch the runner in front and the runner behind is 2 laps down (this later turns out to be wrong and I was close to being caught from behind!) I try to have another lift, but the abductors cramping stop that before long and I settle back down again. There will be no kick, no lift. I will be lucky to still be running, play it smart and keep it steady. I hear the commentator say 151 laps, 4 to go and the lies start.

“That means 3 to go after this one”, I stopped looking at distance, there was no imagining, no happy place. It was all work. I tried every minute to push harder but it just felt like it was this or bust. Better to stick with this than walk over the line.

2 to go after this one......Grind, drive and stay just below the cramps.

1 to go after this one. I round the bend towards to finish line, I see Hunter talking to the officials and I get the bell lap. Oh how I have been looking forward to that cow bell, I love cow bells, and this tiny pink pathetic little cow bell was simply divine, whispering “last lap.”

I pass my table with no one at it. They are at the finish waiting for me to come around one last time.

Screw the cramps and I surge forward, driven on all those wonderful chemicals my own body produces. I splash in the mud, I care not. It’s almost over.

I almost feel as though I crash over the line, I worry that they forget it was my last, I hope the system is right, my watch says 100.6km. I just ran 100km! I am awash with emotion as I am moved from the track to the makeshift memorial. I am handed a poppy to place, and I bury my face in my own shoulder as I am filmed by the event organisers. I look up to see Alicia, her eyes welling. I look for Hunter who is close but giving us some space, he knows this feeling all too well and is flashing a big smile.

Ushered under a finishers banner I am asked for a photo, raw with emotion I find so hard to feel under normal circumstances I raise both hands in celebration. The pinnacle of months of work, fundraising, training and sacrifice. It’s over, and after faced with everything it could throw at me, I found the drive to continue.

I was later told I was 8th overall, 6th man but there must have been a timing issue as I was corrected to 10th and 7th man. 10:21.25. I may seem disappointed with that result, and I kind of am as I think I could have done better, but too many mistakes cost me my own self imposed goal. I certainly gave it everything. I have learned much from the experience mainly that no amount of reading will prepare you for running 100 kilometres!

Post Race

After the race I gained my bearings, I started to drink again and as night set in I had trouble keeping body temp. We lingered with other runners in the main tent, under heaters drinking warm chocolate and regaling race stories. I met Bob, who left us to sing on stage with the band. Alicia patiently waited while I came down from the race vibe. I felt like I was hit by a truck, but it was the best feeling. No money could buy this, there was no easy way. Only hard work can give it to you. There is no rich or poor running is natural and pure and the only way to get a result is to earn it. It’s why I love running, and being around other people that understand these basic emotions.

I got an incredibly painful massage, something that I won't be rushing back into in a hurry. While leaving we stood on the edge of the track and cheered on those still out there earning their own adventures. It would be a long night for some of them.

Damage Control

So what was the physical fall out? How did my body respond to such treatment for the first time?

I did not lose any toenails, not even one tender one. Ten perfect little piggies. Zero blisters. A small amount of chaffing in the butt crack (I had tried a few methods to fix this but seems they did not work for such a period.) Cramps, the night of the race I did not sleep well, noisy neighbours and restlessness do not go well. Every time I moved my abductors would cramp and it would wake me over and over. My stomach was unsettled until the next day, breakfast was only two plates at the buffet, I didn't want to overdo it. My bladder took about the same time to feel normal again, and run clear like it should. After the race I had a headache which I contribute to dehydration and probably running 100 km in 10 hours on mostly simple sugars. DOMS...oh this was hard. It felt like I had done a 10 hour leg session, I walked backwards downstairs and very much like a cowboy. I even said ‘Howdy’ a lot. Air sick. Not sure if it was related or not as I don’t normally feel like that, but coming in to land on the trip home I did not feel well, and it took some time to clear.

I ran again the following Monday, increasing the distance and pace on Tuesday.

Kit List

Altra Superior shoes, Dirty girl gaiters and compressport calf guards. Inov8 mud socks (they are the bomb!) Lightning dry shorts with el cheapo Alpha brand under shorts. Soldier On tech t shirt and TRC visor. A little body glide and a bandaid on each of the raspberry ripples. Ipod shuffle lasted from 25 to 100 km with stock head phones. Garmin 910XT. Bottles were Hi Five handhelds.

Nutrition.

I had a light bread roll for breakfast and a coffee before the race and tried to keep the water up. During the race I had on hand cold water and Hi-Five electrolyte tabs mixed in separate hand held bottles. I also had flat coke and ginger beer on hand. I aimed to have a Gu gel every 45 minutes interspersed with real food when I felt like it. Real food in the box included grapes and bananas, twiggy sticks sea salt crisps and hard Kopiko coffee lollies.

When my stomach felt bad I had some ginger beer, when I could not look at a gel I had coke. I had one twiggy stick and one coffee lolly, otherwise it was largely just gels. (11 or 12 on the day I think)

Before my currently lone follower leaps to conclusions, I would like to list and quickly review the kit I ran with for WTF50.

Kicking off with my feet.

Dirty Girl gaiters I went for the plain Jane version of just black and could have gone a touch smaller to be honest. They work well in the 

dry, but plunging through knee deep rivers and wading flowing streams seems to wash wash 'bits' inside the shoe. Still glad I ran with them, can't imagine what would have got in without them.

Inov-8 Roclite 243's Now I initially had some issues with these shoes, an internet purchase punt, an unknown and the first pair of US10.5's were too small, both my big toe touched the end and was very tight along the sides. I should have really looked at a different shoe, but instead I went for an 11. I was lucky to be able to onsell the 10.5's the same day they arrived.

Wearing them, they look too long, and wet they look real funny, but I have to say I have never worn anything that has gripped better in the mud and pea gravel. Although I tripped, I never slipped. They are light and only 3mm drop. I will most likely reluctantly move away from these once they are dead in favour of more toe box room, but they have served me well as per my last post.

Inov-8 Mud Race Sock Now these crew height bad boy.....I LOVE! If it were legal to marry a race sock, I would. I want it's babies, four pairs on rotation is just not enough! I attribute my feets condition mostly to these well priced Merino wool blend socks. They dried quickly, they seemed to absorb small debris without me feeling them and they just kept on going. Never changed them, hundred upon hundreds on kilometers in them and only ever had one tiny hole. Trimmed that nail and not had one since. best performing sock I have had hands down. I think you get it, I like 'em!

Moving up.

Compressport Calf Guards I know, so much hub bub about compression wear. If for no other gain at all, they provide a little protection against shrubbery as I blast past at the pace of 100 startled land turtles. Personally I feel better for wearing them, placebo effect? who knows maybe. I also find that my calves are less sore when wearing them, I have given thought to that maybe being from less muscle swing, maybe I am over thinking that but I am considering a pair of quad guards, might reduce chafe and my olive branch sized thighs from wobbling about on the run.

New balance Shorts When I say shorts, I mean it too. I like them short when running, it blinds competitors and the sight of a small mans upper thigh seems to distract other hetero runners, whom must look downwards and away as I scoot past at aforementioned turtle pace. Win for me. I also run commando, so the build in mesh provides 'containment' while allowing airflow. I make no apology for the mental image forming of my junk adrift inside tiny little black shorts.

They also dry very fast, make for a higher tan line not visible in normal shorts (method to my madness!) and are so light and airy it's as Ned Flander would say "Like wearing nothing at all"

Cotton Blend Charity T Shirt Once again I show up to event wearing my favourite charity top and I get funny looks. "Where's you tech shirt" "you need the benefits of wicking technology" "Bye bye nipples" I wear this shirt (I have spares) for a couple of reasons. I love the charity (Mitochondrial Disease Awareness, AKA Team Mito), it's very light, fits well and I know it like the knob on the back of my head. I have tried a few tech shirts, and most seem very heavy, only only get heavier when wet., although, they do dry faster.

I experience this drawback during WTF, when my shirt was wet it was morphing into a skirt at the wet day dragged on. I still wore it with pride.

Visor Hahaha, I used to laugh ot tool in these, I mean really, they are not cool. Until, you need one. I have now pretty much found a reason to wear one on every run that does not require a head lamp.

Sun out of the eyes

Rain out of the eyes

They are a sweat band in cammo (less of two evils IMO)

They allow you to support local business/brand names if you choose

At night when road running they can be pulled down just enough to block vehicle headlights, yeah, I wear mine in the rain and at night!

Like I said, pretty much any reason, unless I need a headlamp, or it's cold, which leads me to my next bit of kit.

Buff Now this tiny little invention of tube stretchy cloth is amazing. If you don't have one, youtube what they are and how they work. I have 3, and I love them to bits too. Often they are just stowed in my pack, but they are light weight life savers when you need them, and an easy layer to change, adjust or remove. Keeping the head and neck warm, even when the torso is cold makes a big difference.

Gloves Again, a simple little addition, that does not take up a large amount of space. I bought some simple 'not too thin, not too thick' running gloves from a local sports store for $34. I have worn them many times while running over winter, and I am a wee bit smitten.

They have saved me not only from cold, but also from about 4 big falls I have had, protecting my palms as I have caught myself before eating horizontalness. They can be peeled and stuff into a tiny pocket, but warm hands, or even just a little bit warmer hands can perk you up in a miserable session.

Vest Well, I could go on at length about this. Many have and many more will. I will try keep it factual.

I began running with a 3l Camelbak Lobo. I liked it, it has good storage, plenty of fluid and is comfortable. It's draw backs included no front storage, and no way to include a different liquid, like electrolytes or liquid fuel.

A few weeks ago I purchased the Nathan Vapour Wrap. Ticks all the boxes although was more expensive than I wanted to pay. Great storage in the back, great up front, 2 l bladder. It is up there with the best of the UD and Salomon ones IMO, and the bladder is included at purchase. How you buy a hydration system that does not include a bladder is beyond me.

Bottles  As a sub item to above, I extended the vests capability with a Inov-8 500ml hard bottle. I wore it in the front right pocket. It fitted better than other 600ml round bottles I had at home. I filled it with SiS powdered fuel. Bit of sloshing, but find me a front hard bottle that doesn't.

Fuel I used a couple of different sorts, and I will probably scrap them all in the very near future, such is learning i guess.

As mentioned, I ran with Sis Powder, orange flavoured. I have done much of my training with it. It is a 95% Maltodextrin (complex carb). It worked well, and kept me going nicely.

I also had a Hi-5 gel about every 10k just to mix it up. I used the gels with caffeine to help perk me up. It was a kid of little sticky treat I got to look forward to, except the 'treat' part wore off after a while.

Finally, solid food. I made little sealed bags for my drop bags, alternating between some pistachio nuts/candy covered peanuts and ginger nut biscuits. Since, I have been told nuts are hard to digest, probably worth reading up on that, but I had no ill effect eating them, they were salty little treats, shelling them gave me a distraction, dropping such expensive nuts was a bit disheartening. The candy covered peanuts....good in theory, red palms in practice. Won't do that again. The ginger nut biscuits were pretty good. I find ginger settles my stomach if I feel unwell, and these helped when I did feel a bit crook. Hard to chew down dry, I just let the rain soften them, drinking would have the same effect.

Audio Visual OK, this stuff can mostly be left at home. SOme love it, some hate it on a trail run. My kids gave me a GoPro Silver Edition for fathers day so I could record the race, what was I going to say to them? No? I love using it anyway. I had it tucked into the left front pocket mounted on a POV pole. I had a head mount strat tucked into a spare side pocket. Plan was the use the pole most of the time, but headmount it when going through an aid station, so they could see what I could see.

First time I went to put the head strap on, I dropped the screw and that idea was left in a muddy puddle somewhere about 31 km into the race.

 managed to get a few nice still on it and a bit of video, but I can certainly see how people either film OR race...hard to do both.

I also as required by race regulations carried my mobile phone in a zip lock bag. In a rear pocket I stuffed a $20 charge bank and phone cord so I knew I would have full power to my phone, even if I killed the battery with music, or trying to find a signal.Thankfully I never needed it, until I was finished and Facebook practically exploded and may battery died very quickly!

Other miscellaneous...'stuff'  OK, so, I am an ex-army guy. I am used to being prepared. I like to be prepared. being prepared has saved me in so many way so many times it's not funny. But when it comes to carrying these things while running I got some funny looks. Maybe they are right, they day I decide not to take one of them is the day I will find I was right.

Rock Tape, not a roll, just a couple of handy pre-cut lengths, wound tightly with a rubber band.

2x little zip ties, never know when a broken buckle will ruin your day.

Toilet paper, rolled tightly and kept in a resealable bag. You just never know, and you can't ALWAYS make the business happen before leaving in the morning

Two bandaids, incase you get a tiny cut lol, just kidding. I keep them incase nipple chafe happens, either from forgetting to first apply some or if they come off during the run. I have had to help a little girl with some in the past too after she just her hand while watching some of us train.

Snake Bandage. Now this one I left at home for the race, but in the hotter months, in Australia, I will be carrying that bad boy in a dry bag. 48 grams that could save my life.

Like new! Amazed just how well my feet have bounced back. No lost nails, zero blisters and the pain in the top of my left foot has gone.

DOMS is still there but certainly on its way out. Had Sunday off running but got 3k in on the Monday, 11k Tuesday, rest Wednesday and a gentle jog to and from the park with the kids making 6km.

Feeling pretty good physically, no speed but healing well.

Parkrun tomorrow, trail run with the gang in Sunday morning…..back to the scene of the pain!

My WTF 50 miler adventure.

I have a history of these being detailed, but also long. Unfortunately, both go hand in hand.

I began the journey to the Waterous Trail on Foot 50 Mile Race in April. Myself and a swag load of other parkrunner’s had just completed the Bunbury Run Festival. Personally I had just finished my first 50km Ultra. After this, I slumped and suffered from a bit of depression. My goal had been achieved, and it was hard to come down. A friend pointed me toward ‘the next logical step’ WTF 50 Miler. At the click of a registration button, I was happy again. As an added bonus, I was first to register, and landed the #1 Bib!

(Bunbury 50k Finish)

16 Weeks out from the event, I began a 50 mile training program, clocking up almost 1500km (or 34 marathons!) Many of those kilometres I ran with friends on trails at parkrun and a small community event I started based around intervals and night running. Many I ran alone too. I stuck to the program, and felt I was in a good position to throw myself at this race.

Late in the program, I did a night run with a few very good runners. It was amazing to be around such experienced and fast athletes. In some general chat it was mentioned that my initial goal of 9 hours was pretty generous. I went home and began to look at race predictors, and they too said 9 hours was very generous, so I changed my goal to 8 and planned accordingly. Mistake number 1, but I would not know that until it was too late.

Experience is a hard teacher, first you get the test, and then you get the lesson.

Race day came, delivered to the line in Jarrahdale by a wonderful and generous friend Sam. I then made mistake number 2. It was warmer than expected at the line, and not raining, so I left my rain coat on the dash, thinking ‘I will see it later if I need it, but it should fine up by lunch’.

In the early dawn light, I pinned my bib and got to catch up with a few runners I had recently met. We moved to the start patch as Ron synced our start via phone with the 100 Mile race starting in Dwellingup (they were to do an out and back to make up the staggering 164 kilometre distance!) Before I knew it as I was mucking about with my GoPro we were off. A few hundred meters down the path I saw another runner start his watch.....of all things to be distracted from! His watch beeped, and then I remembered I had not started mine either!

It took less than 500m for the pack of about 23* runners to shake out. The lead pack took off fast, and stupidly, I made the choice to hang on to the tail end of it, with Phil just behind me, and Nikki just in front. 6 guys bolted and the rest settled in. I was bang on target for 'Plan A', average pace of 5:30 for a sub 8 hour finish. I hung onto Nikki’s back bumper (I know she is a modest about her achievements, but I was pretty stoked to be running with her, running with a Badwater finisher [http://www.badwater.com/] was amazing, so you can imagine running behind a podium finisher was a bit exciting! I may have gushed a bit!) I knew we had a similar target time, so I thought to maybe rely on her race experience to help me hit my goal. A brief chat with Phil as he passed me by and pushed on to a more comfortable pace. We caught up a couple more times, one was not for the best of reasons. I will get to that later.

5km in we hit quite a long hill, Strava reports 27% at its steepest, stretching out for about 2km. It was climbing this that it began to rain, light at first but steadily getting heavier. Over 6 and half hours later, it eased up.

I stayed about 50 meters behind Nikki into the first 14 km aid station at Kingsbury Road (1:14) As she blasted right through I stopped for my drop bag. While loading back up I spotted Sam, a nice surprise to see in the pouring rain. As I left I shouted “I lost my pacer!” Only to get 200m down the track/river/swamp to catch her again putting on her rain coat. ‘Hmmm, probably a good idea, hopefully it lets up soon’ Ha! Not likely! I thought ‘I am passing Nikki Wynd!’ What I should have thought was ‘What are you doing passing Nikki Wynd!’ Another lesson. For a couple of kilometres she sat on my bumper and I slowly opened a gap. I was feeling good. Fast paced hike up the hills, work the downs and flats. So many fluids and no heat made for frequent rest stops. A full bladder is uncomfortable, running with a full bladder is impossible. As I waded back on course we joined up and ran together. She was looking really strong, quite comfortable. She openly shared tips and honestly, the company was nice. I didn't run with music, so it was nice to chat. She confirmed that my run walk plan was sound and we passed the km’s on an average pace of 5:30. Just short of the 31km aid station at North Dandalup Dam I went to set my GoPro up on my head mount, so I could film what it was like running through. In the cold wet process I dropped the screw....gone forever. Sorry to my kids, the footage was for them. We hit the bitumen and really hauled it into Nth Dandy (2:58).

(Racing selfie....when it was full of fun and enlightenment!)

I took a tiny bit longer to load up here with the help from a fellow parkrunner Andrew. I once again had to duck into the public loos and hit the road to see Nikki a couple of hundred meters in front. I picked up the cadence to try get back, but alarm bells rang about pace, and a couple of stones were rattling in my shoe that needed to be taken care of. I fixed my shoe as I left the bitumen, and she was gone to the woods. An occasional glimpse of blue up ahead, but after that I slowed. At about 34km’s with almost 50km’s to go I realised it was too fast, and I slowed in an effort to avoid blowing up, which was probably me actually blowing up.

I had backed off the pace a bit, hiked a little longer on the hills and then popped out in front of Race Directors white van, the Whittaker’s Rd 4km out and back. I was happy I would see Sam again here, but I also knew it was also a 2km climb. Sam was not there yet, so up I went. I passed Phil as he was coming back down, then I passed Nikki as she was coming back down, about 500-600m lead on me, both looked great. I didn't feel so great, after the climb I began to doubt all my plans.....I had thrown away all that training with an unreasonable goal. I hit the turn around and passed Duncan on his climb up, he too looked really good, climbing up the road he was closer than I thought he would be. Down the road some more and I passed Barb, smiles, waves and encouragement from everyone I saw, but I was in the hurt locker and I had still so far to go.

As I completed the out and back I saw Sam pull up, a fleeting “hey!” as we passed, I should have grabbed my rain coat then, but I didn’t. I had plenty of time to regret that later.

Duncan must have cranked down that hill as he caught me not long later, the need to pee was on me again, and in a way saved face to be passed while stationary. We ended up running together for a while, he had a great plan and was sticking to it, was working for him really well. He said that he ran with Barb for a while, she was really fast downhill and flat, but lost time on the hiking, where he had tons of hill training and opened the gap by running the ‘ups’ The very next hill I hiked, I was in damage control now and Duncan powered away with a rock steady pace. Third time I had been dropped this race, hmm, not a nice feeling!

Now I was alone, knowing Barb was behind me and 8 were in front. My plan was shot, my legs were still going ok, but I did not know for how long. I saw Hunter, the lead 100 miler come past, smiling and looking really fresh. Over the next few km’s I saw more 100 miler's coming north. It was a lift for me to think those runners were doing it tough, they would be wet all night, I should stop my inwards whinging, even if I walked to the finish from here I would be out of the rain before most of them, “Harden up buttercup” Along here I passed the marathon distance in about 4:12, an hour off my road time.

At about 48 point something km’s I passed a 100 miler who was standing on the track, adjusting something on his lower leg. I gave him a cheery greeting and ran right past him at my reserve ‘you dun goofed the first half of this race’ pace. I now think that 100 runner was at the turn I missed, maybe as I passed, distracted by chat I missed the tape, perhaps he was standing right infront of it? I continued up the path...straight...I climbed a hill and began to ponder how long it had been since I had seen any tape or a marker. I started to walk and look back. Simple processing here, ‘if I am off course, running will make it worse’ ‘If I walk and Barb catches me, I am on course or we are lost together....better to be lot together than alone!’ ‘Turn back and sacrifice the time now and be sure instead of continuing into an unknown’ ‘49.5 will be 1 km without seeing marker tape, go to there first and decide’ Amazing what a tired brain thinks. At this point I could see a road, I jogged down, feeling flat and what do you know, on the other side is pink tape! I said to myself “Well what do you know...I’m in the right place after all, and there’s another runner!” Well, let me tell you, just because you see another runner, does not mean you are not lost. Phil was pounding up Del Park Rd like a man on fire. I crossed the road to where the pink tape was and we caught up. He told me we were off course, he had just run all the way to Scarp Rd, got directions and smashed out the 2km return trip to where I was. The tape was random, same coloured tape. “Do we turn back down where we came out or what?” In his cheerful Irish accent he declared “nope, straight up here a ways” and we did. Off we went, running in the rain, off course and on the shoulder of a country road and facing up quite a long and daunting climb. I started to hike, Phil had regained composure and was off “sorry mate, I have got some time to make up” Like he had been poked with a hot sharp stick he was off up that hill. Ironmen.....sure are tough.

Once again I was alone, which normally I am fine with, but this time I hit a low, and things were not going my way. I contemplated what being off course entailed and I went into a mental tail spin. ‘I probably won't get a medal, probably won't even get a shirt’ ‘Paid up to be excluded’ ‘man this hurts’ I was so cold, the long hill hike had cooled me off and the drizzle had chilled me to the bone. ‘Man I wish I had taken that damn raincoat!’ I got that low the only thing that made me feel better was the thought of climbing into the back seat of our car and going home. It was then that I realised my wife and kids had been waiting there for quite a while. In the rain, and mud. I know my kids, they are lovely, but they would also be up to their ears in mud and questions while Alicia keeps the reigns in. All for me. All that training, the entry cost. All that sacrifice for me, to come here and prove some stupid goal to myself some stupid selfish test. It was selfish enough to start this journey, would be a total waste to throw it away. 

I jogged into the 55km aid station, shivering uncontrollably. My watch said 54.2km (5:40), so between not starting my watch at the start and the detour, I had lost a couple hundred meters. I asked if Duncan had been in and he answers that question himself by running into the station. The thought of quitting was long gone, but I could not cheat, I could not take an advantage that I should not have had. So I stayed there for 5 minutes after Duncan left. He earned that lead fair and square.

Before departing I made three good choices, was about time I did something right for this race. I put my wet buff and gloves on and I had my first Red bull since about 2010. Man what I lift I got from those simple things. Took a few minutes for the drink to work, and a little longer for the wet gloves and buff to help, but they all did and it got me running the flats and downs with confidence. ‘I wonder how far back Barb is now?’ ’10 clicks until the next stop’

Next toilet break I looked back and could see her in the distance, some big hills along here so if I hike hard I can keep her at bay. Before I knew it the extra drink had been right through, and a second toilet break in this 10km leg.....man that was getting annoying and uncomfortable. This time was just before the out and back to Oakley Dam, she had gained on me and was within 100m. I desperately wanted to look back, but also didn't want to show her I was worried about her approach. If only I can keep her at bay until the 65km aid station, she can pass me there. She was hot on my heels on the long downhill before the station, she had me. It was there that I saw Alicia, taking a pic of the both of us. We got to the bottom together, but the post was at the top of a small hill, and like a immature child, I jogged a few paces up the hill and was in first, stupid I know, but things were not going my way, and I knew she was going to pass me anyway, she looked in so much better condition than I felt.

(Barb and I meters from 65km Aid Station)

Oakley Dam aid station (7:13), now this had a vibe! It had food stacked, warm and spread out like some kind of runners Sizzlers. If I had the time I could have pulled up a chair and told them just how much I want to just stay there and eat. Kids off playing, my wife by my side, best camping trip I would ever had. That rain had even stopped, I know right...hard to believe!

17km to go, normally a walk in the park but not today, this was going to be a tough park to get across. I asked Barb if she wanted company on the way out. We left together, holy cow, somehow I had found the resolve to finish this thing, slower than planned but I was going to do it.

We ran together for a few km’s, hiking the hills and running the downs and flats, she was fast and had said she had plenty of time, she was aiming for a 10.5 hour finish, if we really worked we could scrap in under 9. It was optimistic to reach my initial goal, and given the screaming my legs were doing I doubted I could do it. It was on this leg that I started to receive quite a bit of negative feedback from my mental ‘systems checks’ Checks that I run on myself as some sort of third party assessment, it passes the time I guess. As expected, the normal thing came back as sore, at about the expected levels. I was on the lookout for pain that was new, intense or unexpected. My bladder was sore, didn't expect that before I started. Probably from filling so fast and not emptying it regularly and possibly from doing all those while running for about 70km that day. My forearms were sore, from controlling my bouncing hands, I have no idea how people run with handhelds! My shoulders were sore, as was my pack, expected considering I was wearing a pack. All expected I guess but the one thing that came back unexpected was the top of my left foot. Felt like my laces were too tight, next pee break I would have to adjust that.

On we pushed, I made some ground on Barb when she decided to hike for longer than I was ready, I had some good nutrition i.e. a caffeine gel and felt good, about 13 to go. On a long steady downhill she caught me again. My quads were toast, I was lucky to hold pace let along lift on the downs. Not long and I was rounded up again. I had a few stumbles, lucky to catch myself on my hands and not eat mud. It had starting raining some time ago, not long after the last aid I think. I was heading back into a mental low.

Every rise we hiked, Barb would open a small gap from time to time, but I would claw it back on the hikes, I was still good there, even though my hip flexors hated me. I cut myself a deal, you know the sort of crazy little deals you make with yourself. With just over ‘a parkrun’ to go I promised myself that Barb can finish in front, but I had to be close, don’t let her get away. Sounds silly saying it now but it made sense at the time. I REALLY wanted to walk it in. I was burnt up and Barb looked good. We were close together, and if she caught me slacking off she would call back “C’mon less than a parkrun to go!” I wanted to stop and die on a soft fern someplace and she was on the charge!

I stopped to pee again before the campground and loosened my laces, which was now coming back with ‘red alarms’ all the time, there was something wrong with the top of my foot, it didn't go away with the change, deal with it later, 4 to go.

Barb had gotten away a few hundred on me now, a deal breaker in my book. I threw everything I had left to close the gap, to keep the deal. It took over a kay, I would run as far up the hills as possible, and hiked like a demon to try make up ground that I had lost. Dang she was still fast on the flats! Everything was hollering to stop but on we pressed and the gap closed, the watched beeped with 2 to go and I was back within talking distance, we were going to do it, outside of 9 hours now but who cares, I had just about completed two trail marathons back to back, and if my memory worked at all I was in 10th. We laughed and then ahead we could see someone, and pink tape, the final turn! It was Barb’s partner snapping pictures, it was almost over. I stumbled for the camera, held it out proud I held up my own little deal with myself. Barb crossed the line in provisional 9th, and I got our finish on the camera in a time of 9:16:22.

(Barb and I over the line)

What a feeling, not as big of an emotional high as my first marathon, but I was happy it was over. The rain stopped, and soon after the sun came out. I just wanted to stop, to sit and not move. Some pics, hugs and race info and then people thinking much clearer than us began to push us away, towards showers and dry clothes, how wise. They must have noticed the uncontrollable shaking.

From here it was recovery, I got showered, put whimpered my compression pants on backwards, found a heap of chaffing that I never knew I had and started to get warm. I also learned that 4 people before me had missed the turns, and two had missed the last aid station altogether, an easy mistake to make.

We bundled up the kids and kit to detour via North Dandalup Dam aid station so we could catch some friends who were volley’s and say thanks, then home.

This morning we had many laughs at my expense, the worst DOMS I have ever had, no part of my body was functioning properly and I thought of the 100’s still out there, grinding away. What troopers.

‘Get up and make the bed buttercup, you can do it with your finishers medal on’

Well howdy, my first race report from my first marathon. I hope to keep this up to date with more than just race reports, but I wanted to kick it off with this one as it was ran a few weeks back.

I wanted to share my experience having a pacer in the wake of yesterday’s City to Surf event. We had a seam busting 113 official parkrun entrants and a swag load of parkrunner’s entered under other employers and group teams. I don’t have a blog page or anything so I thought I would share my experience of my debut Marathon race here. My experience was magnified by having a very good pacer and running with experienced runners. If my race or having a pacer interests you, read on, if not scroll away. A warning.....it’s kind of long!

2014 City to Surf kicked off for my wife Alicia and I at 4am. Just before 5am, we were on the road to collect another first time marathoner Megan. In seconds we were on the quiet streets heading into the city. As the excitement built we were wondering if the other cars we saw at this hour we also bat poop crazy enough to be entering the full marathon. We expertly navigated out way to the pre-booked ($4.50) parking, locked the car and were all giggles and laughs as we headed to the start line with our hobo style drop bags in hand. Everything was wet, but no more rain fell, as it would be for the rest of the day.

Walking down the middle of St Georges Terrace in the pre dawn street lights was a bit surreal, heading towards a corral of people, all holding their ‘hobo like’ drop bags, some warming up, some looking as nervous as us. Then we started to spot familiar faces, the smiles beamed, hugs, handshakes and photos. I would list the names, but honestly, there were so many I could not tag you all. I then found my pacer, Tony. A quick back drop on Tony, a former UK soldier, experienced marathoner and real nice guy. He paid his entry to run this race for me, he would be by my side helping me achieve my goal time of ‘as close to 3:15 as I can get’ He is an inspiration to my running and today was there for me. I was a bit nervous to say the least.

Time ticked, we offloaded our hobo bags (note, they took my shopping bag as I was going to transfer my stuff the event bag but could not find them in the crowd) A final kiss and hug with Alicia before I set off to find Tony at the pointy end. OMG..the pointy end!

As I worked my way up the starters chute the ‘fun’ was wearing off, it was almost time to go to work. I find Tony as he is having a casual chat with some other ‘pointy end’ runners, guys who I see in top 5’s in some of WA’s big trail events, guys who have outright won marathons before. I can almost touch the elite pack.....no pressure!

The plan was to get the first half done a little quicker 1:35 (a PB for this distance in itself!) on the flat part, Grant was going to join us and we were going to have a mini pace bus sitting on 4:30’s with Tony as the ‘bus driver’ We ended up with a small pack and as the first few km’s ticked over I had to keep confirming to myself that the pace was ok, I had trained for this and it was not too fast, it was the plan. I did have a bathroom issue arise, but there was no way I was letting that stop the bus, so I pushed the feeling to the back of my mind, and let the conversations distract me.

Listening to these ‘pointy end’ guys chat away easily while I am screaming inside “is this too fast!” was a weird feeling, I could not believe I was doing it. At about the 6km mark the sun was rising over the river, the leaders were coming the other way and I began to feel more comfortable (except the other thing...that was a nagging feeling I could have done without!) At about the 8km I took my first water from an aid post. At 12km I had my first Gu, Vanilla Bean if I remember correctly hahaha

At almost 13 km we hit the Dalkeith turn around, we had seen quite a few faces, the mood was light and people were still talking away, I was trying to keep the chat down, I needed to save the breaths! At about 14km I crossed paths with the ‘4 hour parkrun bus’ and copped a load of smiling faces and hi-fives, was great to see a chunk of the team and hearing their support, although I nearly had my right arm torn clean off hahaha. About 1 km later I caught a fleeting glimpse of Alicia and Megan, the last time I would see them before the finish.

As we approached the 21.1km mark we had an average pace of 4:30, time was 1:35 on my watch (officially 1:36), we were bang on plan and aside from a slight discomfort that I was trying to ignore the plan was coming together, inside I was kind of freaking out “Hey Tony, at least if I bomb out later I set a new Half PB today” Always the optimist!

As we are about to round the corner the mood changed slightly, the bus is broken up a bit now, and it’s back to just Tony, Grant and I, and Tony starts the coaching, “Don’t be tempted to pick the pace up running through the crowd” He gives me some pointers and we talk about the plan from here, we turn the bend and see hundreds of faces waiting to start their Half marathon. I hear the cheers, and my name called, I drift over to the right and again nearly have my arm torn off as I am cheered by Kelly, Jeremy,Ben and a sea of other faces I hardly made out in the blur, we turn left over the timing mat to see St Georges Tce in all its might and it’s time to really get to work.

Tony comes to my side, and the magic of experienced pacer begins. First thing he says is “no more talking, I will tell you what you need to hear, we will get this job done and then maybe have a chat on the down hill” He confirms our pace, he talks about cadence, he correct my tense shoulders as we begin the hell of a climb. He tells me where to fix my gaze as he picks a close by target and we run to it. 20m out from it he picks the next and we run to that. We took the St Georges monster in a split of 4:47, breaking it up into manageable chunks. ‘OMG....how long can I keep this up?!’

We approached the ridge of Kings Park trying to settle back into 4:30’s, and even at this point it became clear that my pacer had more faith in my legs than me, it was obvious we were going to hold onto the 4:30 pace for as long as possible. Somewhere on the climb we lost Grant, who we saw not far behind at the turn around. I took my second gel just before the aid post at the top of Lovekin Drive, figured by the time it worked I would need it for the climb back up.

The downhill Forrest Drive section came, and it was a relief to descend, the stride lengthened and pace increased as the hill carried us down. Still, Tony was correcting my form as it was starting to deteriorate (worse than normal I should add). It was about here that it changed from a run to a race “C’mon Ben, we can claim a couple of scalps on the downhill, they are slacking off” so we did, and it felt good to pass a few people. I found myself distracting myself with thoughts about their race, had they miss judged their pace? Would they pass me later? Had I miss judged my pace? Just run, keep the legs ticking over.

As we ran through a few more aid points and those funky dog leg parts at the bottom of Kings Park, Tony was working the hills, picking eye level targets and holding the relentless pace, it was like my watch was broken as the average pace didn't move. Anything I lost on an uphill slow down was recovered on the decent. I added a couple more scalps to my belt and then we met Zoe.

Zoe (who admittedly was in my sights for a number of reasons) had been a couple of hundred meters in front the whole race, her splits were near identical to ours and it took close to 10 kilometres to close the gap, at the approach to Lovekin Drive we were shoulder to shoulder. By then she was running alone, and I had my own pocket coach. Amazingly, she apologised for jumping on with us, but she was more than welcome, another passenger meant more motivation for me. Tony had us both under his wing. We were about to tackle the second beast, Lovekin Drive. A 1km hill that’s about 8% gradient, long and curving that is run-able but too steep to maintain race pace. As we approach, Tony’s coaching continues “pick a target and run to it, mines that parking sign......keep the stride short and cadence up, drop the shoulders.....you are machines” the positive reinforcements filled any gaps in critique, before I knew it we had huffed out way up the beast at a staggering 4:40-4:50 pace and earned a thirst at the next aid point.

(Tony left, me center, Zoe far right)

As we left Kings Park Tony’s humour showed “Oh look, they have given us a downhill.....this rise does not count, stay on pace and get it out of the way” Zoe was right there with us. I learned her name from crowd support. It seems on every corner and ever aid station someone knew her and they cheered for the three of us. I even began to question my own name, if she was Zoe I must have been ‘keep going!’ We descend towards Subiaco, I nearly took out a meandering marshal as we hugged the fenced bend onto Thomas Road. As I dodged my way around and broke cadence I found myself thinking “hey man, can’t you see I’m running a marathon here!” and we settled back down for the turn onto Barker Road.

We ran Barker Road (which is much quieter than its cousin, the 12km route on Hay St) and were pleasantly greeted with supporters, signs and cheering. The nagging rest room feeling I had was giving way to tiring, and growing concern about the pace....we had just pulled a 4:16 split and I caved to my first complaint to Tony as I uttered “you’re going to kill me with 4:16’s” his response was simple and clearly well practiced “Don’t look at your watch, it’s broken, trust me” so as Zoe had a snigger....I promised myself to shut up.

Zoe forged on, and the three of us formed one of those ‘in race running bonds’, anyone that has run a race of 5km or more will know the bond I am talking about. Zoe was now part of our bus, and she got all the same coaching from Tony as I did. As we tried to claim another position of a bloke who Tony said he ‘had a great tussle with at the Geraldton marathon’ I started to question the plan. Man we were still holding onto 4:30’s, the average had dipped down to 4:28 on my watch. Was I really going to be able to keep this up? Don’t complain, just hang in there. The gent we were passing hung on for a few km’s but fell away as we rounded the dog leg to join back onto Hay St. The final zig before the last zag.

Tony’s coaching continued “only 2 parkrun’s a warm up and a cool down to go...you ever down a parkrun Zoe?” Yeah...the machine was pitching parkrun in the last quarter of a mara hahaha. I had my final gel along here someplace, the super dooper 'Roctane' one. I have to say it made a difference to my race, but from here on it was only a couple of splashes of water which Tony would pass to me on the go.

We hit the rollers on the approach to the Selby Street intersection, in my mind the last monster was coming, that short sharp hill where they normally have bands or DJ’s playing. I didn't hear anything, Zoe was right there next to me, may have even pulled ahead by a meter or so as Tony was picking landmark targets to work towards, the pace slowed to 5:40 felt like I was pumping concrete as we passed some walkers and earned a few more positions ‘last big hill’ I thought to myself, ‘not much to go from here’......Oh how this is not true at this pace and distance!

As we descend Underwood Ave and pass the basketball stadium ready to make our way through the park Zoe gets more support and cheers, when I feel low and want to fall off pace she is right there, so the terrible trio continue grinds on, still pulling the average 4:30’s, some faster and some slower and for the first time I can smell the finish line, and the first feeling of ‘goal time is possible’ washes over me. I think to myself ‘if I can stay with her at this pace it’s in the bag’

As we round the second last corner onto Oceanic Drive a supporter calls out “Well done Zoe, 6th lady!” my spirits soar as the reality of our pace hits home, I’m happy for her but unfortunately this is about the moment Zoe’s incredible strength wains. As she falls behind the military man in Tony shows, he calls to her in a firm and fair voice to dig deep for the home stretch, after a few moments he lets her go and rallies to my side as we climb the first rise at about 5:30 pace. My teeth are clenched as Tony’s voice is in my ear, pushing me on, finding targets both stationary and moving to aim for. We are passing a few people who had blown up on the hills, a guy on a bike tells me how strong I am running as we climb that last kicker....the one I totally underestimated, the one where as you crest you can see the ocean....that wonderful ocean right by the finish line.

I pass what would be my last runner to pass, as we crest that hill the urgency in Tony’s voice picks up a notch “How much do you want this Ben? It’s yours for the taking.....claim these two more scalps before the end” The pace is almost out of control as the drop down to the home straight, from 5:16 at the top to a scary 3:47 on the flat before the traffic lights. As I crash down the hill my chest has a crushing feeling and my breathing becomes very short....”Oh my god, I am going to be the 34 year old guy on the news that has a hearty on the finish line” I can’t breathe deeply and I can’t even muster a grunt to Tony. There is only the finish left, and then it’s over. I don’t care about time or positions now. Tony’s is urging me on to pass the last two guys within reach, but I don’t have it in me, what my lower body is doing is on auto pilot, and it’s doing it at maximum speed all on its own. As we turn the corner my breathing resumes and I tell myself it was just a stitch from the accelerated cadence on the downhill, the worst stitch I have ever had!

With the flags in sight, Tony now yelling, it’s almost indecipherable to me, my mind is a blur of ‘push to the end’ The crowd is roaring (ok, maybe a few people clapping) I am over taken, the first time I can remember since the race started, I try hang onto him but can’t, the finishers surge is hitting and Strava says we were on about a 4:16 pace for the last part. I hear Tony say “arms up and smile for the finish line” Inside I laugh manically and I think I managed some form of teeth baring and did something with my hands.....I can’t remember what, but I know I found the stop button on my watch.

With blurred eyes I looked down to see 3:12.29, and a medal was slung over my neck. I can't believe it. It’s over.

With the rush and push of the finishers chute I thank Tony, I felt quite emotional but keep a brave face on, actually about here I stopped feeling my face as I got pins and needles in it. I bend over to catch my breath and remember Zoe, we look back to see her cross the line only about a minute and half behind us. She staggers a few steps and collapses. I found myself calling to the medic, but I have no idea how loud that actually came out. Selfishly, I concentrate on keeping myself upright.

Then the hill, that horrible hill that I am sure is there for someone's entertainment, the one down to the recovery area. You know the one. I nearly accept an offer for a piggy back down. We make our way down the hill, grab a drink and a seat to recover. Zoe plonks down next to me, she looked how I felt but we got to chat, she beat her PB in her 4th marathon by 20 minutes, and thanks Tony and his pacer work for making it happen. She was the 7th lady on the day. Tony had changed his appearance somehow, maybe a shirt or shoes it was all a blur. He had a banana and was still ‘on duty’ as he made sure both Zoe and I were recovering ok. We drank, rested and slowly resumed some form of human ability. Lots of handshakes, smiles and hugs as I stood in the finishers chute.

I got to watch so many friendly parkrun faces and Team Mito supporters. Stories of PB’s, cramps, bus drivers and hi-fives were amazing. At 5:15 and change I heard my wife and Megan’s names called over the PA, they too had a strong finish, greeted with a hug and a big heavy red medal!

What a day and I owe it to my training to get me there, but to my pacer for making it happen. He kept me on the knife edge of my best the whole time, slowing me down when I got excited early on and speeding my up when I needed the drive at the back end. I can’t think him enough. Official finish time was 3:12.28, as I sit here in my finishers shirt writing this I still can’t believe it!