These things take time

“Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.”
Albert Einstein

I have added this quote as this is a return trip for me to Run Larapinta. Many people questioned my sanity for returning, given the difficulty of this event. Although I was expecting different results, due to my lack of proper preparation. To see how last year went, click here

5 weeks and 1 day out from Run Larapinta, I had completely forgotten about it. Not that I’m that relaxed, I just didn’t have an entry for the event. Roll on 24 hours and that changed.

8 months before this I’d put myself down on the waitlist, having been too slow grabbing an entry. The race organisers assured me that I had no chance of getting in, Typically 1 day after the 5 weeks and 1 day, I suddenly found I was being offered an entry.

A quick check of the finances, yep enough money in the account. Check flights, yep still seats available. Check accommodation, yep a bit tight, but I should be able to find some. Check the last 2 months of Strava activities, oh shit…
Look, I’m an ultra runner, I could do the Namatjira (short course). What could possibly go wrong? (Narrator: heaps)

Let The Fun Begin

By the time I’d discussed with my partner about going (permission granted), the accommodation situation had changed, and the rooms I wanted weren’t available. At one point I was booked into 3 different motels, waiting for rooms on Saturday to free up. Checking the flights on Thursday revealed an eye-watering price. Now I was looking to fly Wednesday, extra accommodation is needed. On and on it went. (Given the stories of Perth runners flying on Virgin, I’ll accept my troubles were piffling in comparison).

New Friendships.

All the recent stories of baggage going astray on Qantas meant I was wearing race gear and shoes on the plane and the rest of my mandatory gear packed in my carry-on bag. Also having spent the last 3 weeks absolutely paranoid about getting COVID, I masked all the way.

Thursday night drinks.
L to R: Alex, Renee, Tracy, Fiona, and me.

Arrived safe and sound, meeting Alex at the airport. I’d put up a post in the Facebook group to see if anyone wanted to catch up for dinner on Wednesday night. Alex and one other person (Tracy) had replied. After settling into our respective accommodation, we caught up for dinner at the Golf Club. It would be the start of some lovely friendships over the weekend (and I hope for a long time to come)

Thursday morning was time to sort gear out, walk into town to get lunch, and generally relax. The late afternoon was a meet-up with the Rapid Ascents crew and any runners already in town. Great to meet up with Renee and Fiona, friends from Victoria. Fiona was going for her Triple Crown (the 3 races being Surf Coast 100, Margaret River 80, and the long course at Run Larapinta) and was very excited at the prospect of getting it. Renee is just starting on the journey. I introduced them to Alex and Tracy and this group of 5 was my constant friendship group throughout the event. 

Registration and Stage 1 (Your Starter for 10)

A world first for me; sailed through mandatory gear check without having to run back to the room (or car) to find a missing item, or resort to purchasing items from the event team! Picked up my bib and race pack, photos with Fiona and Renee, and return to my room to get ready for stage 1, a twilight run on the outskirts of Alice Springs.

Vintage, like wine, or cheese...

Slightly surreal moment about an hour before the race brief where an organised telehealth appointment with my GP reveals a biopsy taken a week ago is not the news I was waiting for. Sorting out race gear, filling bottles, etc. whilst listening to him give me all this news, “U-huh, yep, I see...”. He must have thought I couldn’t give a shit! It must have been my runner's brain, but as soon as the call ended, I immediately put the issue out of my mind, determined to enjoy the next 4 days as best as I could, reality can come next week.

The start is a walk down Barrett Drive to the Botanic Gardens. I stroll down with Tracy, Fiona, and Renee, all of us chatting away trying to calm the nerves that are starting to take hold. For the other 3, it’s the nerves of anticipation of having trained and focused on this event for months. For me, it’s wondering if the cramming and very short prep is enough 😄

Fiona, Renee, and Tracy before their start.
Photo: forktailfilms

I leave the others at the start and wander off towards my start line a further 2k up the path beside the Todd River. My race start is 6:00pm, the late afternoon sun is warm, but slowly cooling. The decision will be whether to start with my cap and glasses to switch to the head torch when it gets dark or ditch the sunnies altogether. (5 minutes before the start it was obvious the sun would set minutes after we started, decision made).

Having done the Malbunka (long course) before, the distances here don’t bother me too much. But the rush of blood to the head at the start can be disastrous for subsequent stages. Photos taken, nervous banter exchanged and we are off. 2 runners head out at speed onto the single trail, and the rest of us jostling for position until we get sorted into a nice steady stream. The trails here are quite stable, (read non-technical) and it’s easy to hold a good pace. Occasional tripping hazard like rocks and a bit of sand means you still need to focus. As we wind our way around, the sun sets in the west in a glorious display of yellows, oranges, pinks, and then purple. Immediately to our right the moon, almost full, rises on the other side. It really doesn’t get any better than that.

Dusk on the trail.

Passing through the only aid station for our run, I put the head torch on. The light is still good, but out here darkness will come quickly, so the torch needs to be ready. I turn it on as the first of the long course runners comes by, their course finishes with ours. Mostly I’ve been running steadily without too much effort, but on the last few climbs, I notice the HR climb alarmingly, a product of no interval training over the last few months. More runners come past, a combo of my course and the frontrunners in the long. I try not to keep pace, only just. HR still pushing a bit high. Just as I think I might need to step off the trail and take a break, the end comes in sight, it’s downhill and anyway, adrenaline takes over here! The finish chute is lined with lights and easy to see. 

And then it’s all over for stage 1. It’s night around 7:20PM and I’m sweating buckets. Drink heaps, grab a few bananas and some fruit cake to kill the hunger pangs. As I’m waiting, Tracy rocks up. She’s only just won her age group with a great run. We head to the bus to get back to accommodation as soon as possible so we can grab dinner, get prepared for tomorrow, and get some sleep.

Stage 1 is done, we are off and running!
Distance: 12.4k
Time: 1:23:39
Vert: 167m
Average HR: 157bpm
Fun Factor (out of 10): 7 (too runnable 😃)

Stage 2, To Hell and Back!

A bit too cool for school here...
Photo: forktailfilms

The alarm blares at 5:30am. I’ve had a ragged sleep; noisy cars on the road outside, the unit was warm, strange bed… take your pick. I was feeling good from last night, no injuries, barely even a stiff muscle.

I’d brought cereal with me from home, and I had milk, I just needed to grab a coffee from the restaurant before I boarded the bus to take me to the start line. Today we were starting at Standley Chasm. It was a last-minute change after a landowner had refused entry to their land. So the course was moved to be an out and back from Standley Chasm with a significant climb over High Lead. Having run most of this section last year, I knew what to expect. Simultaneously nervous and excited about the climb and the section through the creek bed affectionately known as Jurassic Park. The bus dropped us off just before 7:30 for our 8:00  start. Plenty of time to get changed, go to the toilet (always a bonus), and exchange pleasantries with other runners.

Right on 8:00am we took off. The first 400 metres gently up, turn left, then very up. Immediately into a hike, a single line of us pushing hard over the first climb, then a short descent (not runnable), then another steep climb, and then descend again to the dry creek bed of the chasm. Already working hard, barely 1k in and we’ve spent 25 minutes getting there! The path here evens out after the gorge area, onto a trail that gently slopes up for about a k before descending into the aforementioned Jurassic Park. Running is definitely at a premium through here, more rock hopping, scrambling, and occasionally just walking slowly to avoid tripping, rolled ankles, etc.

The blue arrow marks the 'trail', such as it is through here.

But I was moving well through here, catching a few runners, chatting for a bit as I carried on, then would get ahead and continue down the trail/creek bed/boulder hop. Eventually, it opened out a bit and the trail (an actual trail, you know, gravel base or dirt) would weave its way in and out of the creek bed. We could actually run this as it was flat, or very gently down. By now I’ve been joined by another runner, Matt. For a while, we would yo-yo positions (once when Matt looked like barrelling further down the creek when the trail peeled off to the right), but never out of sight of each other.

Type 2 fun in here 😄

What goes down on an out and back course, eventually goes back up. And so it did, through another creek bed again. Short and sweet for another descent (also not runnable) before we finally joined on the course the Malbunka runners were on. I had vivid memories of this section from last year, a long slog of a climb with multiple false summits, but seriously outstanding views. Matt and I are now on the climb together, better to have someone with you when you climb, you can shoot the shit about the day so far and what is left to come! We both hike quite well, stopping at some points for a small rest and a photo opportunity then press on again. 

The view on the climb up to High Lead

The higher we climb, the stronger the wind blows, the cooler the temperature gets (it had been toasty lower down) and we still haven’t got to the summit. False summit finally gives way to water drop (via helicopter the day before) and the event photographer. A few snaps, a quick yack with the volunteer about the trail ahead and how much hydration we had and we are off again. I hadn’t missed the fact that the volunteer had said something along the lines about us being up with the frontrunners, but I thought he might have been mistaken. I knew I was going well, but honestly had no idea what placings Matt and I were.

A short run, some of which was strangely unfamiliar (considering it was only 15 months prior I’d run this), and then the nasty descent. It drops, quickly and dramatically with a fairly sharp drop-off at the start before we hit a saddle then a sharp left and a scramble down. It’s rough, it has loose rock, and every now and then the trail sort of disappears, only to re-appear again on the other side of a large boulder. Near the bottom, we hear a terrific crash behind us, the 1st place Malbunka runner is coming down, and fast. He passes us, we give him some encouragement, and he repays the words. Bottom out at Millers Flat, then head back into Jurassic Park, this time as it climbs back up. 2 more Malbunka runners come past us as we clamber through the rocks. By now it’s getting very warm, there is no breeze in the gorge and fatigue is really setting in. Matt keeps saying he’s flagging a bit and if I want to push on, not to wait for him. But I don’t feel that energetic, and even if we aren’t talking much here, just nice to have company.

Affectionately known as Jurassic Park. Yes, there is
a 'trail' in here...

Catch up with the 2 Malbunka runners again, struggling to work out a section ahead. It had helped that I’d just come through the other way this morning and had pretty much made the same mistake as them last year. “Left guys, follow me” and we scrambled around a large rock formation.

As we approach the final section to climb out of the gorge, those 2 same runners have forged ahead and I can now hear lots of rocks falling onto the creek bed from high above. I hear their voices, “Not sure this is the right way”. I spot them, high, way high on the right at the point where we climb around what looks like a dry waterfall. 

Once again, having saved their blushes, we climb out, get on the trail where it is runnable again and I wave them through, “Out of the bad section, pretty straightforward from here guys”. They thank us and keep on going. Matt and I walk run this section before it descends directly to Standley Chasm again. Just before the last 2 sodding climbs (the same ones the short course runners had started on over 3 and half hours ago) we stopped to take one last set of photos, took a deep breath, then headed up the first climb.

Tracy nervously negotiating the 
dry waterfall
Photo: forktailfilms

It was more a ponderous shuffle than a fast hike, our legs were just not in the mood for anything other than a horizontal position (preferably not whilst running). The first climb completed, we heard voices behind us, the first female in the Malbunka. We dropped down, then the bigger of the 2 climbs, she caught us as we hit the top, she and another male runner skipped off down the long descent. By now, this close to the visitor area, we are meeting walkers, all wanting to chat, and giving us encouragement. They were all nice, happy to stand aside and let us through, probably thinking we are mad as cut snakes (we are…). 

Finally, after just over 4 hours, we bottom out of the steep descent and have 400 metres of a gentle path to the finish. Matt asks if I’m right to run in, yep is my reply. And off we go. 100 metres later I can feel my right hammy start to twinge. “Not here, please!”. Leap over a small section of water just before the finish line (hammy still intact) and then we are running up to the finish chute.

I hear footsteps behind me, thinking Matt is cheekily going to out sprint me to the line, I put the pace on a bit. But no, it wasn’t him. A female short course runner has come out of nowhere, spotted us, and tried to hunt us down. A mini sprint it was, but we were all happy to finish.

Cold Coke has never tasted so good. Not even with a favourite spirit mixed in. There weren’t many runners there, I’d assumed a bus had just gone taking runners back to Alice Springs. I was to find out later that no buses had left, I’d just finished in 11th place, 3rd in my age group. I was a bit amazed by that. I know this technical stuff is my forte, but given my training of late, that was quite the result.

Change of clothes and an egg and bacon burger from the kiosk (with a piping hot coffee, who needs the roof of your mouth?) and then back up to the finish to wait for some of my friends to arrive. Eventually, I decided to grab the next bus and just before it was supposed to leave, Tracy hopped on board having just finished. She looked completely knackered, I think we all were…

All smiles at the finish
Photo: forktailfilms

On the bus ride back to Alice, Alex had to stand all the way, otherwise, he would cramp badly in his hamstrings. We still had 2 days to go 😝

Distance: 20.9k
Time: 4:17:14
Vert: 1115m
Average HR: 144bpm
Fun Factor (out of 10): 10 😂

Stage 3, A Bit of Everything. 😌

5:00 am alarm today, just for fun. For the last 2 days, we have been centered out of Alice Springs, now we head west to stay at Glen Helen for the next 2 stages. This means an early start for the long drive on the bus so that we have enough time to get ready to race. Stage 3 has been promised to be easier than yesterday. Anything would be easier!

The bus ride takes its time, I’m on my own, so doze fitfully for most of the way there. We eventually arrive at Glen Helen, our start point and also our campsite for the next 2 nights. Plenty of time for toilet, applying sunscreen, and getting everything ready. No need to carry as much water today, the expected time between aid stations is much quicker. 

The start is pretty much the main road into the camping area. 2 flags are erected, and we are ushered up towards the flags and stand there waiting for the last few minutes. The moments before a race start is always a time for me to calm myself, and think about the run ahead, the weather, and how I’m going to approach it based on training and the last few days of racing. I stand here, arms folded, staring down at the ground, trying for Zen. Then I spot the ankles of the runners in front of me, all with the timing chip strapped to their ankles. SHIT! I’ve forgotten mine, it’s in my drop bag, 50 metres away. Normally no problems, just go and grab it. The only problem is we have less than a minute to go and I have to find my bag first. 

Clearly enjoying myself, despite the shit start to the race!
photo: forktailfilms

I sprint off, find my bag quickly (so far, so good), then attempt to get into the bag. It’s one of those cloth shopping bags, I’ve double-knotted the straps, and do you think I can untie them? (Narrator: No) An internal monologue begins in my head, “Shit.. c’mon dickhead… don’t panic, just stay calm…” Easier said than done. So far, all I’ve succeeded in doing is tying the knot tighter. I hear the countdown start, “10, 9, 8…”, “FARRRRKKKKK”. In a rush of adrenaline, I rip the bag apart down the seem (Les 1, cloth bag 0), dive into the contents that have disgorged onto the ground, grab the timing chip, briefly contemplate stuffing contents back into the bag (decide, no) and then turn around to sprint back towards the start, nearly run into a parked car (“FFS, Les…”) and spy the runners already halfway up the road, 80+ metres away. Annie Knight from Rapid Ascents makes a wry comment as I pass, and then calls to the bike rider shadowing the pack that a late runner is coming. 

The instinct here is to run like an idiot and try to make up the lost 45 seconds or so. A voice in my head tells me to calm down, idiot instinct wins the day. By the time I hit the trail (a k from the start), my HR is already peaking and I know I’m pushing too hard. The best thing now is to just settle down behind a few runners and keep it easy. 

Renee all smile on the trails
Photo: forktailfilms

The next 2k is on single trail with only a few small places to overtake, not until we cross the Finke River is it easier as the pace has settled and runners are not so close together. We are running in small groups, 5 or 6. There are 2 women up the front of ours when 1 of them trips; straight down in the blink of an eye. We all stop to see if assistance is needed. As per usual, the runner brushes it off “it’s nothing, I’m fine, etc.”, but the gash in her knee is more than nothing. The other female runner is her sister, and a doctor, so she’s in good hands.  Few runners stay to help, and the rest of us push on.

It’s much more exposed than yesterday, so even though the running is easier, the temperature is making it hard work. Being far more runnable doesn’t help me, my fitness not coping. Not for the first time this weekend I wonder what would have been if I’d trained more! Ah well, too late now…

About 5k in we start a series of climbs, it’s time to get the strategic hiking legs on. A runner in orange is about 300 metres ahead. I’m slowly catching her, but each time we run flats or downhill, she edges away. But as we approach the first aid station (12k mark), I get close enough that she tells me I’ve got her. “Not yet”, I say. We yo-yo along like that until we hit the aid station. Jos (her name is on the small bib on her hydration vest) tells the aid station vollies to hold me up for a bit! Mind games, eh?

Pound Loop section, Ormiston Gorge in the background.

This is Ormiston Gorge, our eventual finish line, but first, we have to run the 7k around the Pound Walk. This is where the biggest climb of the day is. It’s hot and exposed again, and is a popular route for day walkers, there were many along the way. It took me a while to get past 1 group and Jos had pushed on ahead. But as we climbed more, I once again caught up. Just past the summit, 2 female runners were off the side of the trail having a breather as Jos and I ran past. Now on the descent, we are moving much faster, enjoying running down as the full vista of the gorge opens up before our eyes. It really is a magnificent place. At one point on the descent, she asks if I want to pass, no I’m fine. A minute late I kick my toe, really fucking hard, and nearly stack it. Time to slow down a bit and focus a bit more.

Ormiston Gorge and the river
bed we are to 'run' on.

Hit the flats and once again, Jos manages to gain on me and I think this time she’s gone for good. The 2 runners, Diana and Colleen, catch me as we cross the river bed and head towards the main part of the gorge. As I hit the gorge and the rough rocky river bed, the 3 women (inc. Jos) have their phones out and are checking the route on their mapping apps. As I approach it seems they are confused about where the trail is. I feel like channeling Mel Gibson in Mad Max, “You wanna get out of here, you talk to me!”. Except I timidly just say, “I think the only path is the gorge…”. We continue on. Hard to run through here, soft sand, and/or rocks. Diana and Colleen get ahead again as we come along a section of water, Jos and I just behind. I notice them head into the water, wading through to get to the other side. Awesome, I feel like a quick swim, I’m so hot. Then I spy the dead fish in groups floating in the water. Yeah, nah! Not sure where the girls went, but when I went through with Jos, we only had water up to the knees, they were close to waist deep.

Climb up the other side and clamber round a slippery section before the final climb up to a lookout. The others get ahead again and Diana and Colleen descend first, followed by Jos, then me. The first bit is steep steps down, hang onto the handrail until it evens out a bit. Look up and we can see the car park and roughly where the finish line would be. We start picking up the pace. Walkers coming up step aside and give us encouragement as we hurtle down as Jos and I whoop and holler like kids on cordial. So much fun. Near the end as I catch Jos, the path suddenly turns left, then hairpins right. We head for the finish, really pushing the pace now. As we spy the finish, Jos yells out “Sprint!!!”. Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. But I sprint too, the both of us peaking HR as we cross the line. (And yes, she got me)

It was a great way to finish a race, even though it wasn’t my best day out, it was still fun! Later, after I’d cleaned up and was going through the photos on my phone did I realise how wonderful the gorge was. Once again I hung around and waited for friends to finish, eventually getting back to Glen Helen early afternoon to set up my tent for camping over the next 2 days.

Postscript: That night at dinner, there are usually awards given and results called out. Unfortunately tonight Sam says he cannot tell us as the equipment that records the finish times won’t let them extract the data. I was on the verge of holding my hand up and asking him “so I didn’t need my timing chip, then?” But it was still a bit raw, I just kept my mouth shut 😬

The sprint finish, which I obviously lost!
Photo: forktailfilms

Distance: 22.59 k
Time: 3:09:37 (Official time was 3:10:00, whatevs)
Vert: 530 m
Average HR: 148 bpm
Fun Factor (out of 10): 7 overall, 10 for the final descent!

Stage 4, Basically Flat, Except for the Climb. 😳

Today’s stage was the longest for both events. The long course had to climb Mt. Sonder and return to the start of our course. The climb return was 16 added on to our 30. It would also be the hottest day.

Because of this, it was also pretty much the earliest start for us all. The long course runners up at about 4:00am, the bus leaving at 5:00am for a 6:00 start. We were up at 5:00am, the bus left at 6:00am for a 7:00 start. After the 5:00am bus left, a group of us were having breakfast in the camp kitchen, having a good 'ol chat about anything and everything, thinking all the tents pitched around us were for the event. Wrong. “Hey, it’s 5:30, shut the fuck up!!!”. Must have been a late arrival last night, pitched the tent in the dark, unsuspecting. (We shut the fuck up 😎)

The bus trip takes 25 minutes. I’ve checked, re-checked, and made sure everything is in my day-pack (not using the bag from yesterday, for obvious reasons) and have already put the timing chip around my ankle. Redbank Gorge is the start today, not much here except a bunch of caravans, camper-vans, and tents. One chemical toilet has been driven here by race organisers, for 80 people. I take a look at the queue and decide it’s not worth it, I can wait. But I need to get chafe cream into unmentionable places. No worries, just duck behind the bus that has dropped us off. Just as I get my hand into place, the bus starts up. Geez, I don’t need this!! This is the fastest I will move all day.

The start is on a nice wide road. It looks like we will be able to spread out and get settled into a place early on. Nevertheless, I placed myself at the start behind a few runners who have consistently beaten me over the previous 3 stages by 10 or so minutes. The plan is for a fast(ish) start and then settle into a nice rhythm. The first 12k to the water stop is quite runnable, I intended to make the most of it. 3.2.1 go, and off we start. The eventual winners tear off down the road, a few k’s later as we hit the trail they are long gone. The road gently undulates, we run all bar a couple of short steep sections, but once we hit the trail it is relatively flat. A group ahead has stopped, there is a turn-off to a campground with blue arrows on it. A bit confusing, but I know we need to keep travelling straight ahead. 2nd day in a row I could have pulled out my shady Mel Gibson impersonation, 2nd day in a row I piked it by wheezing out a “straight ahead”.😝

Fiona on the way home, stage 4
Photo: forktailfilms

I’m tucked in behind 4 other runners, all female and we are ticking off the distance very steadily. A few times Sarah, the runner in front of me asked if I’d like to pass. I’m fine, I tell her, but after about 4 or 5k she steps to one side and ushers me past. Just the 3 girls in front for now in this little group. Occasionally they get a bit ahead, then I catch them. Suddenly they all head off to the right, 1 or 2 of the girls looking for a toilet tree! The 1 chemical toilet to 80 runner ratio strikes again! “Nothing to see here”, I’m told as I run past. Once again this weekend, I’m on my own running.

But I’m happy enough, still comfortable with my progress. A few runners come up behind, pass me just short of the first aid station and we all run in together. This is where I have a few issues. We are to only leave this aid station when we can prove we have 3 litres of fluid on us. The problem is, I’m travelling with a 1.5 litre bladder and 2 500ml flasks. I damaged my bladder on stage 2, not sure how, but it wouldn’t hold water when pressure was applied (which happens when stuffed in a hydration vest). I’d borrowed a bladder from Tracy, but somehow forgot to grab another flask. Too late now. I fully expected to be pulled from the race. But no, the volunteer said, “you can’t leave until we sort it out”, where there is hope… Another group of runners comes through, they refill, are checked, and roll out, I’m still standing there like a naughty schoolboy. In a brief gap, the vollie races off to grab a flask and tells me to fill up before I can go. I am so thankful. But my punishment didn’t end there. There is music being pumped from a speaker. As I fill up, Nina’s - 99 Luftballons blares out, and if ever there is a song that is earworm, this is it. I will be condemned for the next 2 hours. But, it is my own fault.

Mt. Sonder from the climb.

Another dry creek bed for a bit, then climb out and onto some winding trail that is heading for our climb. My head is echoing the English version of 99 Luftballons, the chorus going round and round. This is how people go mad. The additional water is noticeable, 3kg suddenly added makes a difference, and I’m walking a bit more than I’d like. But I know the climb is approaching and it’s important to leave enough energy to climb well. As the climb starts I lean into it, hike as fast as I can without hitting peak HR and let my mind drift a bit. “Von neunundneunzig Luftballons” Please dear god, make it stop...

The climb to the summit of Hilltop seems to go on and on. A few runners ahead, but too far to see who they are. There is 1 or 2 away behind and below me, but really I’m on my own. At the summit, there are 2 girls just heading off after 1 of them has stopped (1 chem toilet/80 ratio?) and they head off just in front of me as we start the descent. It’s not easy, the trail is still rocky but we gradually all find our running legs and run as much as we can. Another runner catches us near where we stop to take a photo of a gorge right next to the trail (the drop-down looks terrifying) and we were a short-lived gang of 4. Very soon though they put some distance into me.

Panorama with Mt. Sonder in the background on the climb up.

Hit the bottom and it levelled out into a very flat well-formed trail. By now though the temperature has climbed (my watch recording 32 degrees along here), I can't stomach food anymore and even the gels are hard to get down. Identical to last year here on stage 4, I have settled into the mandatory 10k death march. I spent a bit of time recovering, then started a run/walk strategy. It worked for a few k. As I stopped at one point I spied a runner behind me, running, pretty well. Hansie Muller was leading the long course and smashing it. Local runner, local conditions suited him (and obviously a quality athlete). Words of encouragement from him, greatly appreciated. 

By now I can make out the section of the escarpment where Glen Helen is, our finish line. Still a fair few k’s (a quick look on the watch, just under a parkrun). It was hot, I was actually feeling sick from drinking too much fluid and all I could do was keep putting one foot in front of the other. But it wasn’t chastising, just reality, given the prep I’d had. Crossed a river bed, a few more long course runners came passed (pretty sure the same 2 guys who had navigation issues on day 2), and then I spot a runner ahead, walking but I’m gaining pretty well. Turns out she has tripped earlier and torn a hammie. What shit luck. She’s fine, just needs to walk to the finish, running is totally out of the question. A vollie up ahead tells us that there is water and watermelon in the back of a 4WD. Sure enough, in the middle of nowhere is a white 4WD. I don’t need water, and would not do the watermelon justice, so continue on.

Alex, not content to run the short course on short prep,
elects to run the long course on day 4. Great effort.
Photo: forktailfilms

Round a small rise and for the first time can spot buildings of some description on the horizon (turned out to be caravans camped on the Finke River). Met a bushwalker who assured me only a k and a half to go. My watch still said 3.7, he apologised 😃 By now I’m really slowing down, hardly running or even walking fast at all. At least nausea has passed and I feel a lot better. Hit the Finke River, the trail turns south and we are on the section that we started on yesterday. Through a notch in the rock, another k or so of the trail then we pop out onto the highway. The finish line is within a k, mainly road for the first bit. 

I run down the road, walk up to the turn-off into the campground, and then run a bit more. 5 long course runners come past, the 1st placed woman amongst them. As we broach the hill, it’s all downhill towards the main huts, around the back, and drop onto the beach. Adrenaline has taken over or the need to finish and I run in, across the soft sand, and up the finish chute, the Finke River waterhole invitingly on my right. Rapid Ascents always have a finishing ‘tape’ to run through for every runner, it is a lovely gesture. Run through, get the photo, get the finishers cup with an ice cold can of CokeTM, and then I peel off the vest, shoes, and socks and head into the river, so fucking cold it gave me a headache.

And, finished.
Photo: forktailfilms

And that was the end of the race, the end of the event. It had all gone so quickly. A quick shower, burger, and beer with a few of the runners in my race where we de-briefed on the day and the event in total and then I returned to the beach to hang around for my friends to finish (missed Tracy, which I’ll pay for until I die!). So great seeing the runners come in, lots of emotion on show, this means a lot to many runners having trained for many months and sacrificed a lot along the way to ensure success.

Distance: 30.84 k
Time: 4:27:29
Vert: 598 m
Average HR: 139 bpm
Fun Factor (out of 10): 9 overall, 3 for the final 10k!

That night at the awards, I got to witness my friend Fiona get the coveted Triple Crown jacket. Having received mine 15 months ago, I knew what it meant, pride in an achievement not many others have done. After that, much alcohol and much chat with Tracy, Renee, and Fiona with Alex joining us for a bit. It had been another wonderful event at Larapinta.

Will I come back again? Never say never…

3 wonderful friends I shared the weekend with.
L to R: Me, Renee, Tracy, and Fiona.
Photo: Renee (well, her phone!)

I write these blogs mainly for myself. Occasionally to read back to remind me of memorable races and events throughout my long-distance running journey. If you enjoy the read, great. If you spot typos, inaccuracies, or just outright lies, let me know.

Until next time I race...

Back in Melbourne already! Where did that time go?
Photo: Tracy (her phone)

Interia Creeps

Run Larapinta - 4-day multi-stage race.

Stage 3

Race start, day 3. At the start of a 14k flat gravel road, everyone getting ready as the sun rises. 

Day 3, 2 down, 2 to go. Wasn't sure how I was going to pull up after yesterday's fun in the sun*, but after the obligatory stiff-legged crawl out of bed and the walk from my motel to the bus pick-up, I was moving reasonably well. For a walk, I might add. Running might be another issue. Nicky was running again today, so we were both up at 5:00am, gear packed, breakfast downed and ready to go for our buses. Walking down towards Crowne Plaza (our bus pick-up point), Nicky realised she was cutting it fine, and the buses don't wait around for stragglers.

"What should I do?"
"Run", was my droll reply.

Our first 14k, this road to Birthday Waterhole. Flat and cruisy!

And run she did, made it with a minute or so to spare. Nothing like a bit of pre-race stress.

Boarding my bus, and glad to see Andrew has made it after saying he'd give serious considerations to backing up after yesterday's nightmare. Today we were going to finish at the same place as yesterday, but running from the opposite direction. The bus trip taking a little bit more, allowed a few conversations to pick up, mostly about how frigging hard day 2 was!

Our bus must have engaged warp speed, as we arrived at our start way earlier than expected. The short course runners were ahead of us, using the portaloos before they were driven 10k down the road to their start line. Being a new stage for this event (covid related issues meant a change for days 3 and 4), the timings were still a bit unknown, so Sam had to hold us back for a few minutes.

He made it!

Eventually, we were able to use the conveniences and start getting ready. So early were we, that around 7:10 Sam decided that we may as well go early (our programme said 7:30 start). That all sounded good, but I was still standing in line for the toilet. Sam called out if we were all ready, everyone was, and I was too scared to yell out, "Noooooo". 😒
So, a 7:15 start it was. Somehow found myself seeded a bit high at the start, headed off at a reasonable clip, and then found myself chugging along at 6-minute pace. 
It was flat, the occasional sandy section (Margaret River Ultra flashbacks notwithstanding), but aside from a few corrugations, it was pretty much like an extended parkrun. And considering yesterday's reference point, anything like this was a welcome change. And it was great to stretch out the legs, let them actually run for a change.

14k of glorious flat road to start day 3.
Photo credit: http://themattimage.com

It was so easy, it took us 3k for the field to thin right out, no single trail to bottleneck the field and hold some back. I was feeling quite good, not super fast, but able to hold a nice comfortable pace without taxing myself. And I was utterly surprised, thought I'd dipped too far into the well of energy yesterday to have a huge amount left for today. Yet, here I was!

Passed through 5k mark in 29 minutes, 10k in 1 hour 1 minute and 14k to the waterhole in 1:30. Can't get more consistent than that. 

The aid station was reasonably quiet when I got there, but within a minute a whole stream of runners came in behind me, many of them friends. Realising that I needed to get out of the way, I hurried up filling flasks and bladder. We were required to take a minimum of 2 litres from this checkpoint, and given my issues yesterday, not wanting a repeat episode of dehydration, I had filled my bladder up and was sliding the clip on. Must have rushed it too much, had it on an angle. It wouldn't close properly. Trying not to make matters worse, I tried to pull it back off, but wet slippery hands made it impossible. In desperation, I jammed it on even harder (relegating it into the "deal with it later" basket). At least it sealed, but good luck getting it off to fill it up tomorrow...

Headed off around the side of the waterhole. We'd been told that we'd have to wade across (decisions about shoes on, shoes off, etc.), but race crew had found a way for us to navigate around it. 15k mark, another dry creek bed. Loose stone and gravel, not easy to run in, so I decided to just walk this section, save the energy. Sun had really started to warm us up, it had started to get a bit toasty on the open road before the waterhole, no shade and the longest continuous run for most of us this event.

Along here, Aaron caught up with me. He had been in a pretty bad way when my group caught up with him yesterday, 6 or so ks to go to the finish. Today, much better and he was content to stick with me for a bit as we approached the climb. Once off the creek, it was a lovely trail through Casuarina and a few open grasslands. The trail twisted and turned so much it was once again hard to get into a rhythm. Aaron and I were having a few chats; racing, yesterdays nightmare (😁), how we are feeling today etc. It made the travelling go quicker. We walked/ran where we could, another few sections of the trail being totally overgrown with grass. Aaron managing to trip on a hidden tree root, no damage, but a timely reminder to be careful. Along here I repeated what had started for me yesterday; having rocks flip up into my ankle. 3k into yesterday, I stood on a rock that I thought was stable (it wasn't), and it rolled sideways and flipped up onto my ankle, hitting right on the nerve. My foot went numb for a minute or 2, I couldn't run, barely walk. But eventually, it came good, although a dull ache persisted all day. Today I managed to do it again. Didn't hit the nerve, but slap bang on the point where it still hurt. 

A few times we nearly lost the path, around about the same time we started catching up with the short course runners. They had been driven up to the 10k mark on the road we ran and commenced their race from there. Also starting early, we might actually get an afternoon to relax today. 19k mark was where today started to get a bit real. The major climb of the day. It wasn't going to be as tough as the previous day, but given cumulative fatigue, it was still going to ask serious questions.

Not as steep, nor quite as technical, it still slowed us right up as we hiked up the zig-zags. Aaron still behind me, the both of us occasionally stopping to take photos. The early climbing is not too bad, you can hike quite easily, admire the views and encourage other competitors around us.

Look closely at the patch of green in the centre of the photo, it is the middle of the forest with the dry creek bed we'd climbed up, 4k previously.

Halfway up the first climb, I passed Jason again. Moving up, but slowly, deliberately. He was fine, just not moving as fast as I was. I wondered if I was burning fuel tickets moving at this pace, but it felt comfortable and controlled. Just keep moving, don't overthink it.

21k and 2:50 hours in we topped out on the first part of the climb. I say the first part, as it dropped down, wound around, then appeared to just head up over the next ridge. Ran and trotted down the path, hit the bottom then started the steeper climb up. This was the real scramble, reminiscent of yesterday in the last 5k before Standley Chasm. I must admit, I hadn't studied the course profile as keenly as previous days, so I thought it was all over when levelled out on to a saddle with some outstanding views. But, to our left, climbing up was the inevitable conga line of runners. And it was pretty much straight up, not a great deal of contour line hugging going on. Aaron and I grabbed some photos, then pushed on. 

Just about at the top of the climb, the real peak, not the one I thought was the top.

Now it was getting tough, the legs burning, the energy starting to wane. I grabbed another gel to get down, hoping the effects kicked in before I finished climbing (dumb waste of another gel otherwise). Halfway up this section, I bumped into Nicky, she was going well, happy and still smiling. A quick hug and a kiss on the way past, it was lovely seeing her, gave me a boost.

Aaron in front of me on the ridgeline as we headed along before descending.
The 'trail' is basically the guts of the ridge.

 

 

 

 

Finally after over an hour of climbing, we hit the peak, I stopped for a few photos, a drink and a bite to eat. Aaron pushed on and very quickly got ahead of me as we started the run along the section of the ridgeline. And it was a rough and ready trail, loose rocks, every one a potential rolled ankle or trip hazard. A cool wind was blowing, making running comfortable, but UV was blasting down. Not the place to hang around.

Most of this section, back on my own again, slowly descending off the ridge, trying to spy where the trail was heading next. It wasn't very obvious. If anyone was to ask me, I would have waved a hand vaguely in the direction of north and say, "Over there, somewhere.". I was not entirely confident 😀

Nicky doing the short course.
Photo credit: http://themattimage.com

Although not moving as quickly as I'd like, I spotted a few runners ahead on the trail, bright coloured shirts standing out against the reds of the surrounding hills. Very slowly I gained on them, which gave me a bit of a boost that I was travelling okay.  Managed to flip yet another rock onto my ankle. Couldn't do it if I tried, but out here, seems to happen with monotonous regularity.

Around the 25k mark, I caught one of the runners, it was my friend, Andrew. Not liking the technical running on the rocks and stones. Unspoken, but we stick together as the path meanders around, heads down on its long slow descent to the finish line. From the peak down to about 3k out, it was like this; exposed, rocky, mostly descending, occasionally a tight sharp climb. there was a bit of running, mainly shuffling, but any climb up was a walk/hike. I was still moving okay, but most of my running was done for the day.

And around here something happened that no runner wants to go through a mid-trail run in a remote area. No, not a fall, nor sickness, not even dehydration. It was the dreaded song stuck in the head on constant rotation. I'd survived 14+ hours so far without the delights of a one-hit-wonder, or shit song from my distant past... But now, as I climbed a short little stretch, Billy Joel's - Uptown Girl sprang into life, and simply refused to bugger off. All I can think of, Uptown was a reference to climbing, going up. I don't know, it just bloody stuck there. Tried valiantly to clear it with another song, Happy Mondays - Kinky Afro seemed to do the trick until I started questioning the lyrics. Then "Uptown girl, She's been living in her uptown world" just smoothly cruised back in. The horror, the absolute horror.

Andrew and I posing for the photographer. This was the view for most of our ridgeline descent.
Photo credit: http://themattimage.com

I battled on, gamely. 

There were a number of hiking groups heading in the opposite direction all day, they are amazed at us, we are amazed back carrying all that weight on this uneven ground must be hard. Now, 5k out from the finish, there are hiking groups heading in the same direction and they are more than happy to step aside and let us pass. It was where we came across Matt, the photographer. He took a few pics, we posed for a few and he told us that it was all downhill from here (where have we heard that before, kiddies!) and it was pretty much 5k. Well, that was news to me. The stage had been advertised as 31k. When I mapped it on Garmin, it came to 32, 5k from here meant 33k. probably splitting hairs, 1k over is within the unofficial guidelines for a trail run, but mentally I didn't need any more setbacks.

Panorama of just some of the spectacular scenery from today

Andrew agreed that 5k would mean 33k. So be it. One final tough little climb up, and then it really was downhill. A race official, the same one as yesterday, was camped at the top of this section with emergency water. I still had enough to keep going, so did Andrew and we headed down. 

Running downhill was slow, the path was better, but the legs no longer wanting to do anything other than walk. A section further down was not steep, so I was able to run down steadily. Heard footsteps behind me, thinking Andrew was happy to push on I stepped aside to let him through. Except it was someone else. 2 guys, Martin and Pat. Both in my age group, and I'd been shadowing them since day 1. A minute on day 1, 3 on day 2. I thought I'd got them today, only for them to gun me down 2k out. I had to laugh. I wasn't really racing, but it was nice to be competitive.

A few other runners came past, just as we hit the final stretch, the almost mandatory dry creek bed. Fuck me laughing, I stood there, hands on hips, and stared down the creek bed, the dry and tricky creek bed. Another female runner ahead was struggling with the trail, but essentially it was just follow the creek down. For some reason, I thought it was straight down this to the finish.

And as I looked ahead, the runner in front turns left and heads up a hill. It's not quite the twin peaks of yesterday, but it seems the only way to get into Standley Chasm is over a climb. Andrew and I, resigned to one last climb, trudge up. Spectator playing music, giving us a razz, "c'mon guys, nearly there", we get to the top, and thankfully spy the cafe and car park ahead of us. 

32. 6k, 5 hours 19 later we crossed that finish line. Whilst nowhere near as difficult as day 2, day 3 still had its challenges. 

Nothing like a finish line photo, full celebratory pose!
Photo credit: http://themattimage.com

The Washup

It probably says something about the mind that we can look at a 32k, 900-metre elevation gain on tough technical terrain and say it was easy. In fairness to us all, the reference point/low bar set yesterday meaning anything looked good. I said to Sam Maffet as I crossed the line that I felt I fought the trail all the way on day 2. Today there was much less of that and a feeling that having survived 3 days, the final day was within our grasp.

Coffee, a vege burger (sure I ordered a bacon and egg roll, but vege burger it was), and waited for Nicky to cross the line. She did, utterly stuffed, but happy with her efforts, and even happier she wasn't running again tomorrow. Only us stoopid idiots...

* Irony, massive irony

Stage 4

Just over a kilometre into the race, runners stringing out on the single trail already.
Photo credit: http://themattimage.com

One final time, drag the body out of bed, breakfast, gear ready, and off I go. Nicky has volunteered again today, she left at 5 to help set up, so I was pottering around for a while before I thought I'd better get moving and walk down to the bus. As it was, the bus I was taking drove past my motel, picked myself and another runner up, and took us straight to Crowne, 15 minutes early! It was a long drive out to the start point, and our latest race start at 8:00am. The start point was the Ochre Pits. Ochre was used by Aboriginals for face painting and ceremonial purposes. I couldn't see the pits from here, but once we climbed I could.

Selfie with Duncan and Em before the start. 

The usual chit-chat, people queueing for the 1 of only 2 toilets and last-minute slathering on of sunscreen. I'd caught a bit of the sun on day 2, and day 3 only made things a little worse, my face and neck copping most of the sun. Emptied half a container onto me. Race official came round with more and I couldn't even hold the container, so slippery were my hands 😂 Last minute instructions from John Jacoby, and then we assembled on the start line (looked suspiciously like a dry creek bed to me, might have been mistaken, then again there are a few around here!)

At the start line. Note how 'stable' the surface looks. Maybe
it's another dry creek bed?😉
The photo was taken by Kylie Carmichael.

Right on 8:00am we were off. And it was a bit of a rough start, single trail, rocky as shit, and not many opportunities to pass slower runners as we immediately climbed over a small hill. Not wanting to tax the cardio this early, I held back and got caught in a long line of slow runners. Bided my time for about 5 minutes until I lost it, and overtook a group on a particularly rough section of trail. Once I was able to set my own pace, I settled down and ended up in a group of 5 or 6 runners. It wasn't easy along here, none of this flat 14k gravel road, it was rocks and stones and steps and none of it flat. 

And once again, Aaron settled in behind me, using me as the early pacesetter. I was behind Pat and Martin again, shadowing, waiting to pounce. Not really, but they were mirroring my start style; run the flats and downs, hike the climbs. It's a conservative way to start a long-distance race, and especially here where it's such a rough trail, you expend energy just negotiating the rocks. There had been a funny story at one of the awards nights about 2 runners who had an agreement that if one of them tripped and fell, it was a slab for the other. So the story goes, 1 of them actually tripped, fell over but planted both hands down, and held it in a plank position, the chest mere centimeters off the ground! I was reminded of this as I tripped along here, my arms pin-wheeling around as I took several steps with my body at a 45 degree angle, expecting to face plant any second. It was the fear of shouting a slab to at least 5 others that kept me upright 😏

Our first aid station was only 6k in. Most of us barely touching water or food before arriving here. Nicky was volunteering, helping to tick off bib numbers of runners passing through (safety to make sure no one left out on the course), and the large groups of runners made it chaotic at best. A quick bite to eat, a hurried hello to Nic, and off I went. (Later on, she told me runners were asking for Tailwind and were bitterly disappointed when told they didn't have any!) Through some more Casaurinia forest before we met a race official who had some Coke and cups, offering us some before the climb. I was feeling a bit flat, so grabbed half a cup and took some with a gel. It did the trick, caffeine and gel kicked in just as the climb started to get some steepness to it. A few of the group who I'd been with had got ahead when I stopped, but slowly I picked them off one-by-one on the way up. The climb was the easiest of the 3 days, short and gentle. About 1 hour 50 in, I hit the top before the short trek up to Counts Point, the lookout where we were to get our bib numbers checked off, again.

But the trek to the lookout was once again on a very rough track, you almost had to hop from one rock to another if you wanted to do anything other than walk. I was keen to keep moving at pace, so rock hopping I went. Probably not the most energy-efficient forward motion, but to hell with it, I felt good and the day was still young. Was good here, seeing the runners ahead of you coming back down, everyone giving a cheer and encouragement to everyone else. Heaps of camaraderie on the trail, we may have been racing one another, but the general vibe was we always look after each other.

Counts Point lookout. Very much a wow factor moment, seeing that view as we approached it.
Photo credit: http://themattimage.com

Counts Point had the most stunning views (see pic above). A quick stop, a photo was taken, and then I headed back down the way I'd come, spotting all the runners behind me. 7 minutes for 700 metres back down to the trail I'd climbed (and it was a descent) gave an indication of the trail surface condition. From the peak, until we got off the ridge, was about 4k and no issues with working out where the trail went, just follow the ridgeline. But, like the trail to the lookout, it was rough and tricky with the occasional easy section that could be run. I was feeling good, so kept moving as quickly as I could over this terrain (truth be told, just wanted to get off this section). 

This literally was the 'trail' along the ridgeline. In other words,
"Runnable, quite runnable if you're nimble on your feet" 😂
Photo credit: http://themattimage.com

A few other runners were not so confident, or not having the same energy and they let past as I came by. Once again, came across Andrew, also picking his way over the rough terrain. Not a lover of the more technical sections, today he wouldn't be sticking with me (well not at the moment) and I continued on, spying a group of 4 ahead of me.

17k mark (exactly on my watch) marked where the descent proper from the ridge started. Fairly gentle and winding around, you could go down at a slow jog, every now and then having to stop after the inevitable half-trip/stumble. Regain confidence, start jogging again. Caught the group in front, by now just 3, and it's Darian, Matt, and Mark. Mark is vying for a podium in my age group and pushing along nicely to hold his overall placing. By now, passing the back end of the short course runners, the 4 of us are moving down at a safe, steady pace, knowing full well, even after the next aid station, it is at least 12 to 13k to the end. Halfway down the descent, and it steepens up dramatically. On one of the steps down, I half trip, flailing arms and nearly, just nearly faceplant. So close. Mark has a quick look around and checks on me. I'm fine, but the heart rate has hit the roof...

On the gentle section of the descent. In front of me, Mark, Darian 
and Matt. runner in black had just flown past us.

The descent is just under 2 and a half k, and the further we drop, the warmer it starts to get. No longer a breeze to cool us, the heat slowly rises the longer we are in the open.  The last k and a bit in has a few good sections we can run, Matt out the front dictating pace. We'd hike the climbs but run everything else. Not far out from the aid station, a runner comes up behind us, fast, and puffing hard from the exertion. She tucks in behind us for a bit, then next climb that we hike, she runs past, but working really hard. If she keeps that up, she'll smash out a great time. Or go bust very quickly. It's a massive gamble, this far out. 

Aid station at 20k, Serpentine Gorge. There isn't much here, except the aid and vollies. Once again, Kylie is here, a welcome sight on this long hot day. Another volunteer here spies my hat and asks if I was one of the volunteers from Hut 2 Hut. Even out here, that race has notoriety! Fill up on cake, Coke, grab some Hydralite and put in my flask, and make sure they are filled up for what looks like 13k to the finish.

Kylie volunteered all but 1 day of the event. An Alice
Springs local, she was cheerful and bubbly every time
we saw her on course.
Photo credit: http://themattimage.com

 I'm feeling okay, good to get in here, but knowing how far to go with the heat rising somewhat, I was not really looking forward to this section. Martin and Pat came in with a couple of other runners, just as I was leaving. Knowing they were close made me focus on heading out and getting started again. Crossed the ubiquitous dry creek bed, up a road for a short distance before turning right back onto the Larapinta Trail again. I was back on my own and drifting in my thoughts again. Just trying to work out how I was going to attack this section. Go hard for as long as possible and hang on? Or keep it conservative and see if there is enough left for a crack near the end? 

I was still mulling this over as I climbed a steep little pinch that was more rock-bouldering and scramble than run. When you guessed it, Billy Joels Uptown Girl sprang back into my head for a 2nd day running (excuse the pun). Oh, bugger off, as if I don't have enough on my plate currently? Round and round it went, like some demonic 7-inch vinyl. To try and blindside it, I played hopscotch on the rocks on the next descent. Kinda worked, it also helped me focus on the terrain and keeping safe.

As the next section of trail opened out and I was up for a run, I noticed a runner slowly coming up behind me. As we would often wear completely different kit to the day before, it wasn't until a runner would get close that we would recognise them. But as he got closer, I could say I'd never seen him before during the event. He could have been way ahead on all 3 previous days, having a shocker today, or keeping it easy. He could be having a great day today, where previously he'd been well behind me. Neither. He'd been holidaying in Alice and was spotted by another competitor who went up to him and asked him, "You running Larapinta?"
He'd replied, "What's that?". 15 minutes later he's enquiring about signing up.

WHAT? Jesus, I entered this race 18 months ago, been training for it for the last 5!
"And you guys are awesome, 4 days straight, backing up. You're looking real strong!"

Looking back over what I just came through.
This was one of the many rocky outcrops we 
navigated on the final 13k.

 I know he's not being deprecating, he is genuinely in awe of what we are doing. But man, signing up the day before, for even today? Brave, foolish, or both! I take my hat off to him. And on top of that, he'd hardly run during 2020, nothing to race for, etc. He acknowledged that the lack of running may come back at him later, but at the moment he's happy to stick with me as we push along this section. His name was Darius (not to be confused with my friend, Darian) and he had a good pedigree running ultras, so no stranger to pain, suffering, and despair 😉 It was nice to share the trail, chat a bit. Billy Joel finally consigned to a straight-jacket in a padded cell of my mind, for the time being.

My recollection of most of this is that it had flat runnable sections, interspersed by hard rocky outcrops that were difficult to scramble over. It was hot too, the hottest I'd felt of the 4 days. I had enough water but was conscious of rationing it in case I was about to have a major slowdown. And after nearly 20 hours of competition, I eventually get a visible injury. Not a stack, but a cut on the leg from a tree limb, sticking out of the side of the trail as I turned around a sharp corner. Never saw it, just felt the slicing on my shin. As is the want of the body, mid-activity, it bled profusely. Looked much worse than it actually was. But a week later, taking a long time to heal, it was a bit deep...

30k ticked over on my watch. Sometime before this, my body had indicated that was it for the day. I'd come over a bit cold and clammy, shivered in the heat of the day. A sign I'd well and truly hit the wall. All there was to do for now was hike it in. I tried eating, but my mouth was drier than the surrounding landscape. A gel just stuck to my mouth, my hands, my face. Hydralite, or water it was from now on. As we descended one of the small outcrops of rock, I spotted a runner ahead that we were catching fairly fast. I recognised him as a runner in my event, not a slow runner back-of-pack in the short course. He was favouring a leg, and sure enough, when we caught him, found out he'd rolled an ankle on the big climb. That was a long, long time ago. He was okay, just soldiering on. Nothing we could do except alert race officials when we finished. Darius and I pushed on. But within a kilometre, he was coming back up behind us again, having worked out he can trot fairly well on the easy trail that descends.

Pretty soon he's run back past me again. We are 2 k out, I can make out the cliffs of Ellery Waterhole. My thoughts drift again. Thinking that Martin and Pat should have caught me by now, I'm going slower than a month of Sundays. Hope they're okay. A runner does come up behind me, Jacqui, so no, not them. We are just starting a gentle 1k descent towards the finish line and I notice Darius has dropped behind (cramps, his calves finally giving up). I'm getting a second wind as I near the end. Soon enough, the car park comes into view and the trail drops down to cross a dry creek bed, for one last time. (Motto of this race: dry creek beds will continue until morale improves!). In front of me are Jacqui and the runner with the buggered ankle. I cross the creek, climb up the other side, and can hear the clapping and cheers of the finish line as the 2 in front cross it. Hit a paved path that leads to the waterhole and is lined with flags and markers. As I approach, I'm trying to work out how we go through the finish chute. Then I work it out, we run down to the water's edge, then turn back up. I'm tempted to just run straight into the water but don't as I need to stop this watch, finish the race and complete the event.

If you're going to finish, finish in style!
Photo credit: http://themattimage.com

Nicky is there, holding one side of a banner as I run through it, thinking I'm winning a prestigious major marathon, not mid-field, day 4 of an ultra 😂 I hunch over, the effort and energy burnt over the last 4 days finally catching up with me. A wave of emotion comes over me; not sad, nor happy, nothing really. Probably just an overreaction to finishing. It quickly passes and I acknowledge the race officials as they hand me my pannikin with an ice-cold can of Coke in it. 

The photo was taken just as my brain was saying,
"Get the hell out before extremities
fall off!" Karen on my right, female vintage age group winner.
Photo credit: http://themattimage.com

And that was that, all over. 34k in 5 hours 33 minutes. 4 days of racing, 4 days of mentally preparing and backing up. (It took me about 3 days for it to really sink in, what I'd achieved. What we'd all achieved, to tell you the truth). Despite warnings that the waterhole was F cold, I went in anyway. Why not, I'd imagined finishing here since they announced the stage changes, it would have been rude, not too. And yep, it was freezing!

The Washup

It's fair to say I found this grueling and a real test for me. But I finished it and was more than happy with my efforts. I know there are more difficult events around, longer, steeper, harder terrain; but this was my Everest. Day 2 being the hardest single day I've had, and then having to back that up for another 2 days made cumulative fatigue a real issue. But hey, I didn't die! Today was probably tougher than day 3, but not by much. It just felt damn harder as the body ran out of energy with about 10k to go. 

Would I do this again? On every one of the last 3 days, I would have said no. But now, in the comfort of home, and looking back, maybe is the answer. Certainly would like to head back and see the scenery again.
And like the pufferfish in Finding Nemo after they escape the aquarium in the dentists, 'wot next'? A few races penciled in, but not entered as I wait for the mind and body to recover before deciding what I want to achieve. Until then, bask in the glory of the most recent race.

One Final Note

I shared this experience with a great bunch of wonderful people. Many were friends that I have known for years. Many others that I only met on Wednesday, and may never see again. But we shared a bond and a common goal, and you made it a memorable event. The following is a selection of photos of the runners that I remember sharing the trail with, some banter, or post-race chats, whose paths we crossed briefly. If you are reading this, and don't see your photo, apologies. But you were all part of the wonderful vibe of the event.
Note: All the following images courtesy of Matt Hull from http://themattimage.com

# 32 Jacqui from Westerfolds was always close by. As was # 40, Aaron. we spent 3 of the 4 days pretty much together for most of the day. #43 Mark, also a Westerfoldian was in my age group and vying for a podium. 

Got to admire a runner who signs up the night before an event! Darius hung in on day 4 went it got tough.

Casie, a fellow 605 runner. Actually met her at the race!

#35 Pat, and #36 Martin were in my age group. And just quietly, we were probably racing each other without acknowledging as much. In the end, 14 minutes separated us after 4 days and 21 hours.

Chantele is a good friend, but I hardly saw her as she was racing the short course. Her rusty first aid skills desperately needed on day 2, patching up a fellow runner after a nasty fall.

Kylie, best friend of one of my best friends. She had a great event, and lovely to catch up. We also worked out my boss and her husband are friends. Small world...

Judy (left) and Steph (right) talking to Sam Maffet (RD). They ran the whole way together, even had matching kit. But were always up for a chat, and so enthusiastic to not just me, but every other runner.

Shared a large part of day 2 with Jacqui (#51), especially over the big climb. An accomplished ultra runner, we chatted about mutual races we'd done and their relative difficulty compared to this day!

Tani was always there or thereabouts on the days we were close to each other. But invariably came home stronger, always running with a smile.

Like Tani, Lonneke was always somewhere around me as we raced. 

Jackie was racing at the rear of the field, but I shared a table with her at the awards night after day 3. Training in Echuca did not prepare her for the climbs here.

Sarah and I played leapfrog on a number of days, particularly day 2 in the endless hamster wheel of dry creek beds!

The song that the blog title is inspired by. Inertia creeps pretty much described the last 10k of both of these days.