More from Silverton before HR

And this from July 2:

Thanks for the encouragement all. Sorry Tugger, I don't think I'll be doing a lot of spanking. I'm more likely to cop some myself. However, I did give them a lesson on downhill running today. Don't tell Bro but I ran down the Bear Creek Canyon trail. And how. I won't bore you with the details but this trail was literally chiselled out of the side of a sheer cliff by the miners over a century ago. Spectacular views up and DOWN the canyon. It's generally best not to look down. Then it opens up above the tree line and there are views for miles of craggy snow capped peaks. And we saw a bear! And man can they move. Bro this one wasn't going for a swim. After we reached the saddle at 13,000ft we got to run back to the start at 8,000ft. What took 3 hours to go up took me just over an hour to go down. What a hoot. So that was Day 9. I have been conned into running 2 sections tomorrow so it could be a long day. Yep, only 10 more sleeps. I guess I should think about a taper at some point. But there are so many trails and so little time............

More from Silverton before HR

This from July 1, 2008

Found an internet cafe over in Durango so thought I would update:
Day 5: Rest day. I needed it. Drove an hour to Ouray (lowest point of the race) to check out the route in and out of town. Walked 3 or 4 miles. Saw a deer in the kids playground. This place would feature on any alpine postcard. Ask UCB who stayed here last year.
Day 6: First day of course marking. We drove a couple of miles out of town to the Mineral Creek crossing that spooked me the other day. There is a rope across it now. (And the course director had been too wary to cross it until the rope was in so I felt better.) We climbed a long way up to Putnam Basin and eventually across the 12,600ft pass and down to the first aid station. This guy RUNS past the 20 of us as we are slogging up the hill. Turns out it is Kyle Skaggs, running with just a bottle in his hand. He is a contender. It was a long slow climb for some of us. Me and another guy turned around a mile before the checkpoint down in the valley and ran back. A solid 8 hour day. When we got back the creek had risen with the days snow melt. It reached my chest and I had trouble holding the rope in the current. They asked me next day how I got across (the other guy is over 6' tall). I said there was some aquaplaning!
Day 7: Drove and car shuttled out to where we had finished the day before. Long climb up into snow country. Lots of post-holing through soft snow. And digging in so you don't slide down the huge snowbanks to the bottom of the mountain. Some spectacular frozen lakes up here. The last climb was on all fours. I was digging my hands into the lose gravel and hanging on. Turned out 4 of us (2 HR veterans) headed too far across the pass then had a tricky traverse. One lady (previous HR finisher) was suffering vertigo so we had to guide her across the ledge. 12,900', straight down both sides. We ate lunch then I had the honour of first over the edge. Holy crap I slid and scooted hundreds of feet before hitting the steep snow bank and sliding further on my arse. What a hoot. Just avoid the rocks! After getting back below the tree line the director let us run the last 2-3 miles ahead to the finish. Some amazing technical single track through the pines. There was only one car at the checkpoint so 10 of us had to run/hike another 3-4 miles up to 11,800' to the rest of the cars. I was stuffed.

That made over 40 hours and 120km of trails for the week.

Day 8: So today is a rest day! No course marking. One of the guys wanted me to go up Handies peak (14,000') today. After running back with him the other day and finding out he has run sub 24hrs at Massanutten I decided to stick to my rest day.
Having a ball.

HR lead up from coolrunning

I was using Coolrunning for my updates while in Colorado but thought I would paste them here to background my race report which is coming:

Posted June 27, 2008

Thought of describing some of my prep and given I'm not big on blogs figured here would do:
So this is day 4 at Silverton. Think old American western movie. Picture the old saloon and boardwalk with dirt streets and the odd horse and cart. A steam train pulls into town once a day. All nestled in amongst some really spectacular mountains. There is a constant stream of tourists on the train, by the busload and on the classic touring motorbikes. If you've seen that movie where the 4 middle aged guys take off on bikes then you can picture the type.
Day 1 I went for an easy 3 1/2 hour run/hike on the final few miles of the course. Unfortunately my course directions are in reverse to the direction I was travelling and I managed several detours.
Day 2 I headed out on the first few miles in the right direction. The first major creek crossing about 3 miles in pulled me up. It will be roped on race day and with the huge snow melt I decided against risking it on my own (and for Horrie who seems concerned that I need to HTFU: there have been 6 drownings in Colorado rivers this summer already plus a lady who fell from her horse into a creek and hasn't been found. So I treat these conditions with respect. ). So I went back through town and out the other way again. I figure I will be doing that in the dark so the more times the better. 4hrs.
Day 3 Given that the course isn't marked yet I chose to hike up the nearest mountain instead. I didn't quite get to the 13,000 ft peak as I was running low on water and food so headed off track to the nearest peak. I just followed a goat track and came across a herd of elk grazing in an alpine meadow. Climbed a few snow banks and got to 12,200 ft. Sat in the sun and enjoyed the view for a while. Most spectacular scenery. Glissaded down a snow bank and then pounded the quads all the way back down the mountain. 3hrs up and one hour down! Total of 5 hours for the day. Waded into the local creek and let the icy snow melt cool my quads down.
Day 4 Was determined to find the pass that eluded me on day 1. Still managed to miss a few turns on the way up and went explorng but eventually found a runner who has done 5 HRs and he pointed me in the right direction. Still hard to navigate. Some of the trail is little more than animal tracks. Climbed high and got just below the 13,000ft pass when a big snow bank (with huge drop-off) and looming thunder clouds persuaded me it was time to turn back. One minute it was warm sunshine. The next it was snowing. Then sun again. Another pounding descent and thigh soaking to finish my run. 6hrs.

Course marking starts on Saturday so I will get out to see more of the course. Can't wait. Trail runner heaven.

And from July 10, just before the race

Greetings from sunny Silverton.

This place is just buzzing with all the runners in town. With a usual population of 430 adding 140 runners with crew and pacers we are taking over. 

Just to update:

Day 12 was technically a rest day being the 4th of July holiday. There was a local 10km funrun that I was talked into entering.  After registering at 7am and looking around and seeing NO Hardrock runners I thought I had been stooged. But they turned up in droves and it was good fun. I took it easy and finished just over 48 minutes for a personal worst but enjoyed the trot (winner in 41+). The rest of the day was pretty social.

Day 13 back on the trail with the big section across the highest point at Handies Peak, 14,000ft. This after cresting 13,000ft and dropping into a snow filled basin. The views were amazing. Local favourite, Kyle Skaggs JOGGED up to the peak before turning around and running back down. Look out course record. The day ended with the most horrendous car ride back overa really rough 4WD track with 9 of us squashed into a 5 seater. Say no more!

Day 14: A real rest day. At last. 90km for the week. Time to taper.

Day 16 was the last day of course marking. We drove over to Ouray and up to Governors Basin before hiking up to 13,000+ft Virginius Pass. It was really steep and we had a heap of us up on the narrow pass before taking turns jumping off and sliding back down on the snow. I managed to loose control and spin 360* and filling every crack and crevice, including both ears, with snow. Also managed to butt heads with one of the dogs who was getting excited with all the action. Another couple of glissades and a short jog back to the start. We all headed in to Ouray for a soak in the hot springs before a feed of Mexican. Oh the life.  

Day 17 over to Durango for last minute supplies. Then an easy 4mile run.

Day 18 today: Registration.

Day 19 tomorrow: Briefing.

Day 20 Friday (10pm your time) race start.

OMG I can't wait!

Drop bags are nearly all done (6 drops). Have a spare pair of shoes (NB Chilliman) that I will send to half way but probably won't change. Sticking with Montrail Hardrocks, how appropriate (not gortex). There will be online updates of progress through the checkpoints. Regardless of the outcome this has already been the most amazing trip. The camaraderie around this run is unlike anything I have experienced before. So many runners of so many abilities all coming together to prepare for the most amazing race. Thanks for all the support. I look forward to filling you in on the details after I kiss the Hardrock!  

From July 4

Don't have the capacity to upload any pics from here. One guy has been videoing stretches. They wanted to mount his cam on my head and send me down one of the steep trails. Of course I wouldn't be so silly.

Yep, apparently Scotts off the list. There are people here doing all the prep who are still on the wait list. It is really hard to get into and no favours offered.

So what day is it? Thursday here. So Day 10 must have been marking from Maggies Gulch over to Cunningham Gulch. In fact it had already been marked so it was a free run to familiarise with the course. We drove my car out and left it at the "start" which was actually a 4 mile hike uphill to the actual course. As this is the second last part of the course a few of us decided to also run the last part all the way back into town. Wow, what a day. 19 miles and over 8 hours and 3 passes over 13,000 ft and I was totally bagged. I had a hoot tearing down the tight trail into the Cunningham checkpoint. I looked back across the valley today to see where we had been and realised I was on the edge of a sheer cliff the whole way. Oh well, sometimes ignorance is bliss.  On the last extra climb I was doubting my decision to double up, especially when the thunder started. It was a really really long climb. Think Bogong X 4 at 12,000ft. But we crested the last peak and headed for home safely, if a little cold and hungry. Only to find the pizza place was closed!

Day 11 today, was the official marking of the last section that we added yesterday. I had already done some of this on my own but it is great fun doing the marking and meeting all the other runners and hearing the war stories. It was an easy 9 miles ending with a soak in the icy stream to cool the quads.

As you can probably tell I'm having a ball. People are starting to stake their goals and I'm sticking to my conservative aim of to just finish. The more I see of the course the more I respect those who have covered it. 

From July 2

Thanks for the encouragement all. Sorry Tugger, I don't think I'll be doing a lot of spanking. I'm more likely to cop some myself. However, I did give them a lesson on downhill running today.  Don't tell Bro but I ran down the Bear Creek Canyon trail.  And how. I won't bore you with the details but this trail was literally chiselled out of the side of a sheer cliff by the miners over a century ago. Spectacular views up and DOWN the canyon. It's generally best not to look down. Then it opens up above the tree line and there are views for miles of craggy snow capped peaks. And we saw a bear! And man can they move.  Bro this one wasn't going for a swim. After we reached the saddle at 13,000ft we got to run back to the start at 8,000ft. What took 3 hours to go up took me just over an hour to go down. What a hoot. So that was Day 9. I have been conned into running 2 sections tomorrow so it could be a long day. Yep, only 10 more sleeps. I guess I should think about a taper at some point. But there are so many trails and so little time............

Whoops, this is from July 1 on CR

Found an internet cafe over in Durango so thought I would update:

Day 5: Rest day. I needed it. Drove an hour to Ouray (lowest point of the race) to check out the route in and out of town. Walked 3 or 4 miles. Saw a deer in the kids playground. This place would feature on any alpine postcard. Ask UCB who stayed here last year.

Day 6: First day of course marking. We drove a couple of miles out of town to the Mineral Creek crossing that spooked me the other day. There is a rope across it now. (And the course director had been too wary to cross it until the rope was in so I felt better.) We climbed a long way up to Putnam Basin and eventually across the 12,600ft pass and down to the first aid station. This guy RUNS past the 20 of us as we are slogging up the hill. Turns out it is Kyle Skaggs, running with just a bottle in his hand. He is a contender. It was a long slow climb for some of us. Me and another guy turned around a mile before the checkpoint down in the valley and ran back. A solid 8 hour day. When we got back the creek had risen with the days snow melt. It reached my chest and I had trouble holding the rope in the current. They asked me next day how I got across (the other guy is over 6' tall). I said there was some aquaplaning!  

Day 7: Drove and car shuttled out to where we had finished the day before. Long climb up into snow country. Lots of post-holing through soft snow. And digging in so you don't slide down the huge snowbanks to the bottom of the mountain. Some spectacular frozen lakes up here. The last climb was on all fours. I was digging my hands into the lose gravel and hanging on. Turned out 4 of us (2 HR veterans) headed too far across the pass then had a tricky traverse. One lady (previous HR finisher) was suffering vertigo so we had to guide her across the ledge. 12,900', straight down both sides. We ate lunch then I had the honour of first over the edge. Holy crap I slid and scooted hundreds of feet before hitting the steep snow bank and sliding further on my arse. What a hoot. Just avoid the rocks! After getting back below the tree line the director let us run the last 2-3 miles ahead to the finish. Some amazing technical single track through the pines. There was only one car at the checkpoint so 10 of us had to run/hike another 3-4 miles up to 11,800' to the rest of the cars. I was stuffed.

That made over 40 hours and 120km of trails for the week.

Day 8: So today is a rest day! No course marking. One of the guys wanted me to go up Handies peak (14,000') today. After running back with him the other day and finding out he has run sub 24hrs at Massanutten I decided to stick to my rest day. 

Having a ball. 

And this from July 1 on CR

Hardrock lead-up from CR

I was using Coolrunning for my updates while in Colorado but thought I would paste them here to background my race report which is coming:

Thought of describing some of my prep and given I'm not big on blogs figured here would do:

So this is day 4 at Silverton. Think old American western movie. Picture the old saloon and boardwalk with dirt streets and the odd horse and cart. A steam train pulls into town once a day. All nestled in amongst some really spectacular mountains. There is a constant stream of tourists on the train, by the busload and on the classic touring motorbikes. If you've seen that movie where the 4 middle aged guys take off on bikes then you can picture the type. 

Day 1 I went for an easy 3 1/2 hour run/hike on the final few miles of the course. Unfortunately my course directions are in reverse to the direction I was travelling and I managed several detours.

Day 2 I headed out on the first few miles in the right direction. The first major creek crossing about 3 miles in pulled me up. It will be roped on race day and with the huge snow melt I decided against risking it on my own (and for Horrie who seems concerned that I need to HTFU: there have been 6 drownings in Colorado rivers this summer already plus a lady who fell from her horse into a creek and hasn't been found. So I treat these conditions with respect.  ). So I went back through town and out the other way again. I figure I will be doing that in the dark so the more times the better. 4hrs.

Day 3 Given that the course isn't marked yet I chose to hike up the nearest mountain instead. I didn't quite get to the 13,000 ft peak as I was running low on water and food so headed off track to the nearest peak. I just followed a goat track and came across a herd of elk grazing in an alpine meadow. Climbed a few snow banks and got to 12,200 ft. Sat in the sun and enjoyed the view for a while. Most spectacular scenery. Glissaded down a snow bank and then pounded the quads all the way back down the mountain. 3hrs up and one hour down! Total of 5 hours for the day. Waded into the local creek and let the icy snow melt cool my quads down.

Day 4 Was determined to find the pass that eluded me on day 1. Still managed to miss a few turns on the way up and went explorng but eventually found a runner who has done 5 HRs and he pointed me in the right direction. Still hard to navigate. Some of the trail is little more than animal tracks. Climbed high and got just below the 13,000ft pass when a big snow bank (with huge drop-off) and looming thunder clouds persuaded me it was time to turn back. One minute it was warm sunshine. The next it was snowing. Then sun again. Another pounding descent and thigh soaking to finish my run. 6hrs.

Course marking starts on Saturday so I will get out to see more of the course. Can't wait. Trail runner heaven.

Getting nervous

I have had a pretty average week. Coming off a 4 day weekend that allowed some extra mileage I have been run down all week. I skipped my planned run on Wednesday opting for a steady 5km walk instead. No stairs. Struggled on the few runs I did have and took a couple of kilos out of my training pack. Woke up yesterday with a really sore lower calf. Damn. Not sure what caused it but my 3:45hr run at the You Yangs yesterday was really painful. Coupled with the low energy I was getting worried. After a really painful massage yesterday ( I think there are teeth marks in Bengt's table) the leg felt fine this morning. Went for a very easy 10km this morning with W and L. Then backed up for an hour in the Ironbark Basin with T. I felt great. I was flying down the hills, getting big air off the ledges and jamming it in the gullies. I ran all the uphills, even with the weighted pack. I can't remember the last time I ran the big hills out of the Basin. It was the confident booster I needed and reassured me that I was just having a bad week. I even missed Spud running in Poor Mans Comrade I have been so focussed.

This time next week and I will be in the air. Only 27 sleeps.

34 more sleeps

This was a blog update from last weekend but for some reason it never appeared on my blog. I have spoken to my blogmaster and hopefully itis fixed.


I can't believe it is less than 2 weeks now until I fly out. I have
run the Prom100 and TNF100 but have yet to find the time to write reports. Both runs went better than expected. I took an hour off last years time when I won outright. This time I ran a more even and solid pace without the gut busting last 20km. I moved through the field to manage 2nd place behind the new course record run of Chris W. I pulled up with no soreness or ill effects and just had an easy couple of weeks before the next 100. TNF went really well. Finished under 15hours despite loosing about 1/2 an hour to a missed turn near the end. I ran with Brick most the way and felt really strong to the end, actually running up some of the big hill to the Hospital. Again no soreness or injuries. Not even sore toenails that I had upset leading into the Prom and had been worrying me. I had a little fatigue and again took it easy for a couple of weeks. I've been down to Mt Cowley in the Otways and out to the You Yangs to get some hill work in. I've been lugging around my new pack with some weights in it and doing the stairs at work during my tea breaks. I was out the other night after walking the dogs and it pissed down rain. I was out for a couple of hours in the dark (turned my light off) and rain. I was soaked through but felt good. I realised then that I was as ready as I could be. At the turnaround of the 7km climb up Mt Cowley a couple of weeks ago as I started the long downhill trot I had one of those euphoric moments when all was good with the world. It is not just about the race it is definitely also about the journey. There is no doubt that whatever happens in the San Juans I have had a great build up and it has given me an excuse to spend hours doing what I love the most: running out in the bush.

Last years Prom report

With the Prom 100 on next week I have been going over last years report. I realised I never posted it anywhere so figured why not put it up here? It is long and a fairly personal account but  others may find it useful when planning to run this one:

PROM 100 2007

 

Saturday, April 28. My father's birthday. Well it would have been had he not died 16 years ago. He introduced me to Wilsons Promontory when I was eleven years old. We hiked the trails over several days, camping at places like Refuge Cove and Little Waterloo Bay. We came back the following year in the middle of winter and got washed away in typical Prom weather. Those same trails we now run as part of the Prom 100. For me, a trip to the Prom is always special. This one especially so.

 

The Prom is like a lightning rod for bad weather. The weather can be horrendous at the Prom. Today would be no different. Rain. Rain like you wouldn't believe. Blinding rain. Coming in horizontal, under the brim of my cap and stinging my eyes. As we started the long trudge up the bitumen to Mt Oberon car park, the wind and rain conspired to force us back down to the start at Tidal River. But the weather shapes the Prom. Not just geographically but metaphysically. You haven't really experienced the Prom if you haven't heard the wind roaring through the trees, if you haven't run the paths as they turn into streams, if you haven't seen the might of the southern ocean crash onto Southpoint, if you haven't been soaked to the skin.

 

I 'slept' the previous night curled up in the back of my car. My tent kept threatening to blow away in the gale force winds. I had anchored it between the fence and my 4WD but it was still bowing in the wind. To add to the impressive weather display the heavens opened shortly before we lined up to start at 6 am. There were 9 of us in the 100km. A few had nominated the 80 and 60 km and a handful more planned to run the 44 km loop. All up there were 18 of us.  I walked most of the hill to the Mt Oberon car park with Brendan. I tried to use his big frame for shelter, to little avail. We couldn't talk, the rain and wind drowned us out. We didn't pause at the car park, passing straight through. We hit the singletrack that leads to Sealer's Cove. Once over the appropriately named Windy Saddle, the trail winds gently downhill eventually turning into duck-boarding on the low-lying swamp flats. Shelter from the wind at last. This made for some great running in the dim predawn light. I left Brendan and picked up the pace.

 

I passed a couple of runners in this stretch but four of the 100km field were still ahead of me. I knew Tim Cochrane would go out hard seeking redemption for a wrong turn last year that possibly robbed him of first place and a crack at the course record. I didn't expect to see him again. Judging by the footprints in the sand when I finally hit the beach, there were at least 5 or 6 runners ahead of me. The wind was whipping the surf into a frenzy. I was surprised that the normally sheltered east coast was so wild. The usually tranquil bay was awash with foam and waves. I ploughed straight through the shallow creek at the end of the beach. My feet were already soaked. I refilled one handheld bottle and charged off, on the wrong path. Bugger. I know this course well but still took a wrong path. I skipped back through the campground and started the climb across to Refuge Cove. Looking back there was a runner not far behind me, crossing the beach. I didn't know if he was running 44, 60, 80 or 100 km. Either way he was pressing me to keep the pace up. What was I doing? I was supposed to be using this as a solid training run in preparation for Western States. I was not supposed to be racing.

 

There are some great views as you cross the headlands all down the east coast. Broaching large granite boulders exposes clear vistas up and down the coast. It also meant no shelter from the driving wind and rain. I would pull my thermal balaclava down from under my cap when the wind hit. Then roll it back up once in the shelter of the trees. I was wearing a heavy thermal top, a light polartec skivvy, a bike shirt and a technical running jacket, tights and shorts, the balaclava and a cap to keep the rain out of my eyes. I was carrying emergency overpants, gloves and a heavy gortex jacket. My pack was at least 5 kg with food and gear. This was no stroll in the park. Running the Prom is a serious business. And weather like this is a reminder that mother-nature dictates the terms around here.  

 

Refuge Cove looked nothing like it should, defying it's name. The easterly gale was blasting unabated onto the beach. The waves crashed high up against the trees at the top of the beach. Chilliman was just in front of me and he headed up the first steps towards the toilet block. With no other option, I sloshed on through the swirling surf, filling my shoes with coarse sand and salt water. I trudged through the empty campsite stopping only to refill my bottle. Chilli caught up. He had been looking for some high ground to bypass the beach. Not today. I remember fishing off this beach as a child. Sitting on the granite rocks casting a handline into the azure crystal waters seemed unimaginable today. Just a distant memory. This place was full of memories for me.

 

As I started the long climb towards Kersops Peak I could see the runner still behind me, clearing the beach. I was feeling good so pushed the climb and ran hard down to Little Waterloo Bay. There was no-one on the long open beach but there were plenty of footprints, mostly runners. Another bottle refill here. A short hop along some timber treads in the sand dunes and the path turned sharply west onto the bisecting trail that leads back to Telegraph Track. I remember my description of this to Brendan: good track, slightly uphill but very runnable, less so the second time around. And run it I did. Sloshing through puddles, the wind at my back. On reaching the saddle I looked back: no-one in sight. Turns out my pursuer was Mal (Maggot) doing the 60km circuit so he had continued down the east coast. But what a view! This place is a treasure of sensory delights. 

 

The familiar granite monoliths sulked on the hillsides as I continued westward. The burnt trees were starkly grey against the green of the lush regenerating bush. The sentinel like black spears of the grasstrees marched off into the distance. Their green skirts contrasting against the charred black stumps at their base. The low cloud and misty rain gave the whole scene a surreal feeling. I was alone. I was alone with the Prom. There was nowhere I would rather be.

 

Telegraph Track Junction the first time around. Hanging from the sign was a map case with a list of runners so we could record our passing for safety reasons. This runner register was soaked, little more than paper mache and there was no way of telling who had been through. I tried to fish it out of its cover but just laughed at the soggy mess. I stashed a bottle of coke for the return trip and headed off to Halfway Hut, just a couple of hundred metres to the south. Filled both bottles from the tank at the hut, not wanting to refill at Roaring Meg. Then began the long, long climb up the main fire-trail towards the lighthouse. I love running down the other way, as you do in the 60km and as I had done 5 weeks before on a training run with Dave (UCB). He was somewhere behind me today, also doing the 100km. The singletrack turnoff to Roaring Meg was a welcome sight and the gentle downhill grade made for a timely relief. Approaching the campground the thick undergrowth crowded the path and clawed at your clothes, like sharp, wet tentacles. You couldn't see the ground. Just keep pushing forward along the line of least resistance.

 

Roaring Meg. I ran straight through the campsite and headed down to Southpoint. The track was rough but pretty much all downhill. About halfway, I met Chris and PBig coming back up. Figured they must be at least 45 minutes ahead of me. Soon after I ran into Spoonman (Paul M). I took note of the time and on return figured he was close to 1/2 an hour ahead. Not to worry. I was running my own race and not overly concerned with catching them. I always find touching the wooden plaque marking the southern most tip of the mainland rather emotional. It is like the turning point in some kind of symbolic journey that is my Prom pilgrimage. It was cold and windy. Thoroughly inhospitable but equally spectacular. No photos today. I simply patted the plaque, caste a look around at the seething ocean and headed for cover.

 

Nearing the top of the climb back to Roaring Meg I crossed paths with Kelvin and Brendan close behind. Back through the campground, on the long bushy climb out, I finally met up with Mal going the opposite direction in the 60. He said I was close to the others. I think his perception was a little generous as I was sure they were well out of my reach. And I was still climbing. We chatted briefly before I scurried off now with vague thoughts of catching someone. After fighting through endless regrowth it was a great relief when I reached open trail that had been recently brush cut. Free space to run, rather than feeling like you were in a car wash.

 

As I rounded each corner, the lighthouse appeared in the distance. Bleak and isolated it was like some beacon drawing me to it. The trail undulated and seemed to go on forever until finally I was at the track that leads down and then savagely up to the light and the residences. I crossed paths with Spoonie again and he commented that I had lost time. Funny, I thought I was closer now. Perhaps he had underestimated the gap at Southpoint?  The long trudge up the cement ramp at the end really stretched the calf muscles out. Two ladies wandered over to tell me I was in fourth place. I said I should be fifth and that they must have missed Tim who would have been well ahead. I refilled both bottles, availed myself of the toilet and headed back. Halfway in just over 7 1/4 hours. If I held pace I could possibly break 15 hrs.

 

Or so I thought until I began the long climb back up the east coast to the highest point on the course. The cleared path ran out and it was back to blindly forcing your way through brush, now well over head height. And ever climbing. Gradually but endlessly. Always climbing. I watched time haemorrhaging out of my Garmin as my pace slowed. Forget catching anyone. Think just about finishing. Crossing the clearing that marked the summit of this climb I dug deep to regain some momentum. The long, long downhill to Waterloo Bay clawed back some hope that I could still finish this in good time. I started pushing hard downhill. My legs turning over rapidly on the long descent.

 

There was no-one on the beach at Waterloo. Except a flock of gulls. I ran through them and they scattered with squawks. When I left the beach a couple of hundred metres further north, there was still no-one in sight. I won't see anyone now, I thought. Just finish the 80km in daylight and the last 20k will take care of itself. The rain was back. The wind was behind me. I was back on the crossover track through the middle of the Prom. Cresting the saddle for the second time I could see sunlight piercing the clouds. The late afternoon sun lit up the sand dunes to the west, where I was headed. My shorts were soaking wet and kept sliding down. I stripped them off and ran just in my tights. I was running strongly now. I reached the Telegraph Track Junction and found my coke. It was still cold. No surprise. The bag it was in had been ruffled and I wondered about that until finding out later that some of the other runners had stashed food only to have it pilfered by the native fauna. 

 

I also remember telling Brendan that the next section of track is the longest 3 km of the day. Every time I run it I can't believe how long it takes. But pretty much spot on: just a nudge over 3 km and I was in the Oberon Bay campground. Straight through and onto the beach. I laughed out loud. The tide was way, way out. Dave had been obsessing about crossing the creek to get off this beach in the dark at high water. It had been deep, cold and fast when we passed through here 5 weeks before. The thought of being washed out to sea had been playing on his mind ever since. Today it was ankle deep. I chuckled again. As I ran up the firm flat sand I could see someone moving slowly up the headland track ahead. A runner maybe?

 

Climbing the headland my knee started to hurt. Mildly at first. It was a foreign pain, which is always a worry. I was close to getting back to camp at 80km and would reassess things there. Meantime I set out to catch this runner. I walked hard up the hill. Day-trippers were starting to appear. I was getting close to Tidal River again. I caught the runner: it was a very slow moving Peter Gray, still going on the 44km loop. Once around the headland it was down onto Little Oberon Bay with its eroded sandstone canyons serving as a beach. After clambering up the loose sand around the big granite boulder at the northern end of the beach there was more uphill around the last headland.

 

The light was fading fast but I was running again and should make it back in daylight. Norman Beach came into view and the long raking downhill to the beach allowed me to pick up pace. My knee kept twinging, restricting my stride. I hit the soft sand of the beach and slogged along to the exits: Ramp 5, then 4, and finally up Ramp 3. I ran right past the base camp announcing my arrival and over to my car. 11:05. Chilli and Paul A followed me over and offered to help. I planned to stop and have a good feed and freshen up with a change into night gear. That was until they said I was now in third place (Tim only doing 44km after a fall and Chris stopping after 80) and the other two had left only 12 minutes ago. Oh crap. I had to chase them. I grabbed an orange, filled my bottles, donned my light and ran out of there. 6 minutes total stop. Plus12 minutes? I could do that.

 

Finding the right path onto the footbridge over Tidal River is always tricky (worse in the dark). I headed for the river and ran along it until I hit the bridge. Adrenaline was pushing me along at an unsustainable pace. I hit the Lily Pilly carpark and veered right to start the nature walk loop. A couple of hundred metres in and I encountered a family finishing their walk on the loop in twilight. I asked them if they had seen a couple of runners and they said no. I was perplexed before realising the others must have gone up Mt Bishop first. Bugger, they were on the rougher trail in light, albeit fading. I picked up my pace. I had to make the most of what little daylight was left on this runnable trail. The loop undulates and the hills I would normally walk after 80+kms I was running. And running hard. As the loop doubles back it climbs slightly before dividing and heading up Mt Bishop. Still no sign of them. It was getting really dark now. Lights on.

 

I started the climb, still trying to run when I could. What seemed like a fair way in I encountered Spoonie coming down. We exchanged pleasantries but I was calculating that I must be close to being in front already. But I was still climbing and he was on the downhill. Further up I crossed PBig looking rather ordinary. I knew then I had his measure. What was I doing? This was supposed to be a training run. It seemed like forever before I started clambering over the rocks signalling I was close to the lookout. It sneaks up, being very low-key and clearly not designed for night access. I didn't linger as I have done in the past.

 

The descent was fuelled with the thought of getting in front of the others. As the track opened up so did my stride. I was flying along recklessly when my knee locked up. I kicked a rock and catapulted forward skidding on my front and eating dirt. I lay there for some time checking moving parts. Everything seemed to be still attached. I got up. I started off gingerly, but was soon striding out again down the track. I wasn't done with yet. I hit the track junction and swung hard right, heading for the Lily Pilly carpark again. It seemed to take forever. Would I beat them back to the carpark?

 

Finally I burst out of the bush onto the bitumen, my PT Apex lighting up the open space. At that very moment another light popped out of the bush at the other end of the carpark. Without a thought I switched my light off and simultaneously the other light flicked off. Duelling headlamps at 100 metres! Race on! I was closer to the exit, and knew it. It was all uphill on bitumen but I broke into a sprint (well at least it felt like it). I didn't look back but knew Spoonie would be on my tail. At least I hoped it was Spoonie and not PBig as that would mean I was still chasing Spoonie.

 

It's 2.8 km from the carpark to Picnic Point carpark. I ran nearly all of it despite the hills. I looked back when I was a fair way down the road. Nothing. But I knew he was there somewhere. I was not giving up my position without a fight. Past the Squeaky Beach turnoff. Then down into Picnic Point carpark. Through the carpark and onto the track to the beach. I switched my light on for the tricky dark sections. No footprints on the sand. Surely I must be in front. On the open beach it was lights out and run hard. At the end of the beach I had to switch my light on to find the exit. I looked back; still no sign. But if his light was out he could still be close.

 

I tried running up the headland track without light. It was impossible to see where I was going in places. I switched on my small spare light. And held it low. Cresting the headland there was still no-one in sight on the beach. Down onto Squeaky Beach. I was running out of steam. I had been pushing hard and it was taking its toll. Lights out on the beach again until I had to find the track off at the end. Up over the last headland. Once in the dense bush I flicked my big light on. My knee was aching. I was running on empty. But I was so close to home. Hard right onto the out-and-back track to Pillar Point. This is only a short section but it seemed to never end. Finally the boulders that signal the end is near. I remember how sudden and dangerous this unmarked end to the track is. I struggle over the rocks. I stop at the last big boulder. Scary how my bright headlamp beam disappears into the inky blackness of the nothingness of the night sky. I climb down from the rocks. I can't bend my knee. It locks up. I stop and rub it. I turn and head back. On the soft dirt of the trail I run as hard as I can. I expect to see Spoonie at every turn. I pass the junction. Still clear. Home stretch.

 

The downhill to the footbridge is long and painful. I am draining every last bit out of the tank. Lights are appearing in the distance. Tidal River. I can hear voices and see the footbridge. I pass Brendan crossing the bridge on his way out. I ask him if anyone has finished ahead of me? No. That's it, I am going to win this one. I think of the finish and dig deep. I break into full pace. I am gasping for air, my knee is on fire, my heart is pounding in my throat. I weave through the campsites, tears welling up as I think of my trips to the Prom as a child with my father. I realise that on this, what would have been his birthday, I have given everything and will cross the line first. I round the last bend and cross the finish line. 13:56. Totally spent. 

Struggling

I had planned on a 91km recce of the Great Ocean Walk with Spoonman
this weekend but was clearly not well on Friday so dropped out. But I
still needed a long run so scheduled a trip down the coast for
yesterday. I slept in and had to drag myself out. Ended up just going
to the Ironbark Basin. It was mid morning by the time I hit the track
and it was hotting up. I headed back towards the circus of Bells
Beach Easter Carnival before doubling back through the Basin and onto
Anglesea. After just 1/2 an hour I was struggling. It was hot. I had
no energy. But worse was the lack of any desire to be out there. I
txt'd my coach and he told me I needed an easy week. I think he would
then can me for being soft. But that didn't solve the problem at
hand. Should I just pack it in? I needed kms in my legs. And then I
remembered what I was training for: Hardrock. There will be many dark
moments out there. If I gave up at the first bad patch I might as
well not bother starting. "Suck it up princess," had been another
motivating txt message. So I walked. I jogged when I could. I kept
moving forward. Gradually I found rhythm. I passed my usual
turnaround point and continued through the residential zone. Up this
enormous hill. I found the connecting road and trail I had been
looking for and set off towards Aireys. I was running the uphills as
well now. Big hills. Eventually I turned back and found another trail
back down to the coast. By the time I got back to Addis I was pretty
stuffed. I opted to run up the road to save a couple of kms through
the basin. Up the road. I don't think I have ever run up that hill.
And here I was after 6 hours running up that hill. The late afternoon
sun was tormenting me and I ran from shadow to shadow. I was out of
water when I hit the final km of trail but I still jogged it in.
Totally spent. I realised that today wasn't about training my legs.
It was about training my mind. I needed to get back to the
fundamental hardcore principles of ultra running where the effort is
only 40% physical. I needed to find that 60% mental to get me there.
Maybe not a case of "sucking it up princess" but "toughen up
princess". Easy week this week? I think not.

6mins the new 5mins

After browsing at my professional 6' photo samples online I noticed
something rather alarming: I have no leg lift. I have succumbed to
the ultra shuffle. Any wonder I am running such crap times. I am not
running but shuffling. I thought about this while out running over
the weekend. I was alone, and setting my own pace. Another alarming
realisation: my average training pace has gone from 5 min/km to
closer to 6 min/km. So just like 50 is the new 40, so to is 6mins the
new 5mins. This doesn't make me feel any better about my time at 6'.
This transformation is no doubt, not helped by running so much with W
who is much slower than me. But it is also probably a direct
consequence of my running style. It is time for me to get out and do
some training drills and, heaven forbid, speedwork! In fact I've been
thinking of trying a little barefoot running on the local golf-
course. But don't tell Tim.

Six Foot of pain

Nearly a week after the event and I still haven't recovered. A
running friend (well now presumably ex-friend!) told me I had a bad
run at 6' because I'd gone soft. There are few things an ultra runner
hates more than being called soft. The inexcusable macho undercurrent
that pervades our egos denies us recognition of our weaknesses. But I
don't think it was softness. I think I just had a crap run. My
greater concern is the implications for my long term training build-
up for Hardrock. Am I just not as fit as I thought I was or am I
still too early in my training to be racing. Oh, and I think the
punishing run at Maroondah 3 weeks before took a toll.

When things go wrong, they really go wrong. I seldom fall in a race
but the jarring impact of hitting the hard packed gravel road sent
more than pangs of pain through my body. It signaled to me that
things were not right. I should have cleared that creek easily so
early in the race. Instead I hit the far bank with both feet, not as
I should have with just one, then vaulted sideways gouging a sizable
chunk out of my knee on the rocks as I hit the ground. After
recovering from the shock, I looked around furtively, surprised that
no-one was in sight, and scampered off trailing blood and spilt ego.

I had lined up behind Dog and by the time we hit the start timing mat
I was buried in the crowd. I let gravity pull me gradually through
the field until there was only a couple of runners in front of me. We
hit the sharp right hand turn and I could see the stairs. I could
easily be first onto the stairs but I didn't want the pressure of
holding all 200 wave 2 runners up, so I slipped in behind another
guy. We skipped our way down the stairs at break-neck speed. Flash
from the photographer was just a blur. We caught wave 1 runners half
way down. They moved over quickly at the sound of us charging
through. The guy in front zigged when he should of zagged and I was
now in front. We were passing people constantly. I heard Dog not far
behind me. There was a clear gap when I chanced a glance back so I
knew I wasn't holding anyone up.

I hit the rocky pools at the end of the stairs and splashed past more
wave 1 runners picking their way through. I was moving fast but well
within my comfort zone for downhill. Through the trees along the
single track. Still more runners. But they let me pass easily with a
clear signal on my approach. And then we hit the open fire-trail and
I backed off. I caught up to another wave 2 runner. It didn't
register until later but he couldn't have started with us or he would
have been behind me. I'm sure I was second onto and first off the
stairs for wave 2 yet I was catching him now? I ran with him until I
heard Dog's characteristic heavy footfalls behind me. I lifted my
pace to match Dog. I sat with him for a couple of hundred metres.
"Don't start match racing me already" he said. No danger of that, he
was flying along. I eased back to a more comfortable pace. Either he
was going to run a blinder or blow up spectacularly. It would end up
being the former. He deserved it. That had been my plan: go hard or
go home. But my legs felt empty. There was nothing there. My week of
rest to settle some glute tendinopathy hadn't freshened me up at all.
Re-adjust the thinking; 4:30 was out of the question. Look for 4:45
maybe but try and stay under 5hrs. If I could just hold it together.

I had a clear run to the river but still only got there about
1:20ish. A gazillion people passed me as I was leaving the
checkpoint. I just walked the hills. Even that was a disaster as
walkers flew up the hill and I just plodded along. Ran with a guy
doing the South American (?Chilli) desert run in a few weeks. He was
spinning out some newbies so I added to the entertainment by
mentioning Western States and HR. Spud caught me somewhere around
here, going up Mini. I tried to hang on but my guts were playing up
now as well. This could get really ugly.

The climb to Pluvi seemed short but I was happy with that. I had
already started cramping lightly in the medial quads coming off Mini.
I felt more twinges as I started running Black Range Road. The
traditional coke at Pluvi did little to energise me. The road was
thick with runners. I was passing some and being passed by others. I
walked sections and my stomach churned while cramps threatened to
steal my leg function. I would cramp in the quad and the hammy of the
same leg at the same time. How could I stretch that out? I managed to
hold pace with a young lady runner for some time. The light
conversation punctuated my malaise. She fell back and I pushed on,
trying to keep momentum. Twitey passed me about where I passed him
last year in his post C2K delirium. He warned that C2K would trouble
me for some time. I think it had more to do with Maroondah 3 weeks
ago. But I wasn't giving in that easily.

The Deviation checkpoint arrived and I looked tentatively at the
portaloo. I decided to keep going but saw the toilets in the camp
ground and made a bee-line for them. I lost more than a few minutes
but felt somewhat better. I climbed the gate and back on the trail I
put my ipod on and tried to run hard, hoping my stomach would now
settle. Cramps grabbed me periodically but with the Angels blasting
in my ears I climbed to Caves Road and set about finishing this race.
The undulations on the singletrack suited me fine but cramps stopped
me from getting any rhythm going. I kept hanging on behind Moh and
another guy who had repassed me while I was in the loo. Past the
cabins and I looked at my watch. I was still a chance at sub 5 hours.
But I would have to run hard. My calves were getting sore from the
twisting on the rough descants. I knew the long, steep final descent
was really going to hurt. I turned the music up and pushed hard. The
track started plummeting down into the valley. I was flying over the
loose rocks, past runners picking their path cautiously down the
trail. My calves screamed with each wrenching twist or roll of my
ankle on the rough terrain. Past Moh and his mate. Past a lot of
other runners. Onto the narrow path. Someone shouted a warning to me.
I had pulled my earphones off to hear the cheers rising up from the
finish-line far below. There was no easing back. I hit the little
rise just before the cobblestones. Another photographer carefully
placed to catch my pain. A young guy I had been leapfrogging for an
hour or more slotted in behind me. He saw me look at my watch as we
hit the made path. "Will we make it?" he asked. "I won't die
wondering," I replied as I grabbed the handrail to sling myself
around the hairpin corner. Bam, bam, bam. My stiff legs jammed into
the hard surface as fast as i could make them. Another photographer.
I was streaming spittle and sweat as I sucked in big breathes in a
mad pitch for the finish. I braced myself for the final turn off the
stairs onto the road, knowing I would cramp. I did but I grimaced and
pushed for the line. There were people cheering but the noise wasn't
reaching my ears. My legs were screaming but the pain wasn't reaching
my brain. My world was reduced to that timing mat under the finish
clock. I ran as hard as I could and beat 5 hours by about 40 seconds.

I had said I would leave nothing in the tank. I didn't. On a day that
people were PB'ing all over the place I was just glad to finish. No
PB. Just sore legs and satisfaction to have managed to salvage a sub
5 from a very ordinary day. But 6' is about more than the race. The
post race socialising and watching others finish makes it all worth
the effort. That same friend (or ex-friend) gave me another little
pearl when bagging me about my average performance. When asked about
why he doesn't do something else instead he merely said: because I'm
a runner. And that's what I am. And 6' is a great place to run, and
test that theory. I guess I'll just have to "suck this one up". 4:59:19

6' build up

My sore glutes deteriorated tonight on an easy run. I had to stop and
all I could think of was that Dog was sticking a needle into the arse
of his Whippet doll. Damn. I was feeling so good. My main concern had
been shoe selection. Now it's injury concerns. I was going for a long
trail run tomorrow to break in a new pair on Leonas but I am not
going to waste them if I am going to be hampered by injury next week.
And I can't afford to risk exacerbating it. Maybe I should skip 6'?
Or drop back into a slower wave and just jog through? Bugger.

Endurance capital of Oz?

I ran with W and T down to their dog club this morning, along the
river. Dropped them off then ran back past the start/finish of the
Barwon Banks Fun Run. There was a track meet going on at Landy field
with athletes warming up and the PA blaring out. The river was packed
with rowers. There was a rowing carnival going on. The banks were
packed with spectators, for the rowers on one side, and runners on
the other. Then a big pack of professional women bike riders flew
past on the road. They were warming up for a World Cup race around
the town. Man, athletes everywhere of all levels and ability.
Ran for over an hour before picking up W and T again and running home
back along the river. Over 30kms and over 3 3/4 hours of low
intensity easy running. Pulled up well. Will try to slot a couple of
longer runs in during the weeks ahead to build up the base. Apart
from a hit out at 6' will keep the intensity low. Really looking
forward to 6' now.

Maroondah Dam 50

This was my seventh Dam run. I set my pb here way back when I first
started running ultras around 99 or 2000. That was 5:20 I think. I
bettered that last year off some solid Western States training (it
was delayed until April due to fire danger) down to 5:18 and second
place in a depleted field. This year I was hoping to go sub 5:30 as
an indicator that I was in good shape but I didn't back off in the
lead up and spent the afternoon before running some tough parts of
the course to help mark it. So I was pretty happy with a solid finish
in 5:34. I actually think I was ahead of last years pace (we got lost
near the start last year) up to the 20 km mark. But without the
incentive of a podium and someone to race against, I drifted on the
back part of the course. After stopping for a wee in the first 2kms I
was near the back of the field. I then worked my way back past a heap
of runners for the rest of the race. I caught up to Kelvin at about
the 30km checkpoint. He was surprised to see me. I think he thought
we were on a better pace than we were as well. He took off and stayed
in front of me all the way to the top of Mt St Leonards. I really
didn't want to catch him. I knew if I did, it would become a match
race. We almost ended up racing down one big hill while course
marking the day before. I flew past him on the really steep downhill
off the mount. I quipped to him that he was getting old. He hates
being beaten and is not a bad downhill runner so I spent the next
10km to the finish looking over my shoulder waiting for him to catch
me. I really cranked it up and was redlining all the way to
Donnelly's Weir. If he caught me after that it would have been all
his. He told me he caught glimpses of me but never got close,
finishing a couple of minutes behind me. Phew. It was hot but a
really great run. There was some controversy on CR about the course
markings cutting the course short but it was insignificant and I
reckon a more scenic singletrack than the open rutted fourwheel drive
track. My quads were shot for a couple of days. It would be good to
run parts of that course again before going to the states but it is a
long drive. Only 2 weeks now until 6 foot. Looking forward to that one.

Hardrock entry

Wow, what can I say? I am slightly shell-shocked by the fact that I
have been drawn in the lottery again. This is it. This race is the
focus of my whole year. I cannot let this chance go to waste. I will
train like I have never trained before. Well, I'll train hard. I felt
some guilt that the others missed out. Especially Bill, who is
running out of opportunities to run this great race. But he has been
there before. And even if I missed out he would have still been way
down the list. So, I just have to run it as best I can for the guys
who missed out. And for me. I really want this one.

You Yangs bush bash

After a short run around the river with the dogs I drove out to the
You Yangs for some hilly trails. Took a loaded camelbak and had on
the Hardrocks but felt really tired and stiff to start off. Decided
to try the foot trails as opposed to the open gravel roads. Came upon
an intersection and chose the uphill direction on a path called
"Urinal Wall", I kid you not. Not far in and I came across some rock
climbers. Well, trainee climbers. I said hello and went straight up
the side of the rock face they were attached to by ropes. The only
problem was there was no trail when I reached the top of the rocks.
Choice: back down past the climbers looking like a dwebe or push on
through the scrub and pick up another trail or road higher up. There
are lots of trails and roads and the whole park is not that big with
a circumferential road so I wasn't worried about getting lost.

Well there wasn't any trail or road up there. Up, up I went. I was
making slow progress but figured there would be a trail at the summit
so kept going. There were sharp thorny shrubs everywhere. Bugger. It
was a secondary summit. I was a long way across from the real peak. I
stopped to eat a summer-roll. I worked out where I needed to go and
just scrambled the best I could until I was in open ground and could
get to a road. Took the best part of an hour to cover 1km. Good
training for the Barkley if I ever lost the plot and entered it. My
legs looked like I had been fighting with a tom-cat and lost.

Picked up a really good tempo on the open road and with the gentle
downhill gradient found myself clicking off 4 min ks. Hit a trail
that lead up to the summit and climbed to the peak. Really hammered
the downhill and wound it up again around the base of the hill back
to the car. 3 1/2 hours of hot trail. I think I should be recording
time not distance. Either way, I was surprised how strong I finished
after feeling so sluggish at the start. Maybe there's hope for me yet?