The North Face 100 Race Report

Ok, so I haven’t blogged in months. I will address the reasons in my next post (likely to be posted sometime in 2017)…but for now, some words about the past weekend, where I raced the most enjoyable race of my life- The North Face 100, 2014.

I wrote back in November that I’d entered a dirty long race in the Blue Mountains. 100km, 4500m of vertical climb, technical trails, steps, ladders and all sorts of hecticness involved. Considering that was six months back, you’d think I’d spend at least some time training for what would be my first ultra marathon, but that wasn’t really the case. Sure, I did a couple of long trail runs on the 3 month roadtrip, but they were more of the I-need-to-actually-run-twice-a-week-to-counteract-my-evergrowing-beer-belly kind of runs, and not really specific training runs for the event. The longest I did was a 30km run at Wilsons Prom, second longest was 21kms in the Flinders Ranges, and after that, maybe a mere 13kms was third longest! Needless to say, I was as underdone as a steak cooked during a blackout. I would need to have “smart” preparation to get away with a half decent race with no training. I bought just about every packet of pasta from Supabarn in order to carbo load in the lead up; I drove out to the mountains and scouted out some of the course so it was familiar in a week’s time (especially the night sections); I got Brad over to talk strategies for support crew as he’d kindly agreed to help Michelle with those duties; and I bought so many unnecessary items (blister pads, lipchap, strapping tape) I nearly went broke funding the thing!

When the Friday finally rolled around, I was “ready” and we headed to the mountains, and enjoyed the Friday night expo, with heaps of free goodies, a nice buffet dinner, and listened to some of the elite runners talk business up on stage, before heading back to the Katoomba Townhouses for around 6  hours sleep before the big day.Getting to the starting line at around 6am on Saturday, the atmosphere was electric. Not just because there were enough bright flashing lights to give a blind man an epileptic fit but because of the 1000 or so nervous runners, all getting ready for their race in their own way. Some were laughing, some were chatting, some were farting (well the old guy next to me did anyway). Me, I was in my own quiet little world doing silent but deadlies, keeping warm in a tracksuit and trying to conserve as much energy as I could, and would smile for a few photos taken by my support crew of Michelle, Brad, and Kirsty. Before I could say “damn I wished I trained for this thing”, the sun starting peeking over the horizon, it was 6.48, and my group, group 5 (out of 6) had been counted down and we were off! I was actually doing this!

Just to backtrack a litte…My original goal of sub 17 hours had been well forgotten about several weeks earlier, somewhere around the time both my running buddies (Joel and Ben-I’m looking at you) withdrew from the race, and the time I spent living in a van on a diet largely based on two minute noodles and beer for three months around Australia. I figured, I would be happy to settle for a less ambitious goal. I kept telling everyone I would just “be happy to finish”, which was half true, but secretly I was hoping to be worthy of the sub 20 mark and in doing so, earn myself a sweet TNF Bronze Belt Buckle.

So with this in mind, I set out with “preservation” being the mantra…I wasn’t going to work up a sweat, or bomb down hills, or do anything stupid for the first half of the race-I wanted to  finish- and setting out like Usain Bolt was a good way to be flat on your back (or pointing with two hands in the air, one bent, one outstretched, like Usain does) in no time. Either way, I wasn’t ready to find out, jogging for the most part, but slowing down to a powerwalk when I felt I was “overdoing it”.

Start to CP1 was a mere 10.5km, but had the 1000+ steps down into the valley, a technical trail along Federal Pass, and then a big climb up the Golden Stairs to get back onto Narrowneck Ridge. The fresh mountain morning and the atmosphere of the event made the first 10km fly by. Feeling good at the checkpoint, I quickly filled my water and shoved some fruit down my gob and was off again. I was constantly checking the Garmin to check my pace at each kilometre…7:45…9:04…8:39. They were all “slow” in normal running terms, but the fact that a 20 hour race goal converts to 12:00 minute kilometres (well a little quicker-to allow for checkpoint stops), I was actually going too fast! But by the time 20kms had come and gone, my mantra slowly shifted to “if it feels ok, just go with it-let’s bank some time up our sleeve with some faster kilometres so I can have some slower ones when the hills get bigger and my body is more fatigued in the second half of the race”. Yep, that’s one long and drawn out mantra…in fact I only had to repeat it eight times and the race was half over!

Narrowneck was an enjoyable part of the race, especially with so many other runners around. The downside to the large number of runners close by meant that by the time I got to Tarros Ladders the queue was deemed too long, and we were directed down the 400m longer Duncan’s Pass instead. Now it was a 100.4km race! Shaking that off, I continued along the singletrail and onto the fire trail that would lead me to Checkpoint 2.

Checkpoint 2-the 31km mark-was reached after 5 hours, and I again reloaded the bag with Clif Bars, lollies and water, and kept on trekking. The trail switched from mostly firetrails to singletrack again, and I wasn’t exactly sure of what to expect, as I hadn’t researched this part of the course. I certainly didn’t expect Ironpot Hill to be as sinister as it was, as the name kind of reminded me of the tea pot character out of Beauty and the Beast. It was a little beauty and lot of beast, and slowed a lot of runners down to a complete stop, having to catch their breath every few metres of serious elevation. The view at the top was something I wish I had more time to soak in…sheer cliff faces dropping down into lush green farmland, with nothing but blue sky above, and the sound of Aboriginals playing the didgeroo and clapping sticks up ahead (seriously-the event put them there, I didn’t get lost and find an uncontacted Aboriginal tribe or anything). After a short out and back section along the ridge, we descended once again, and once down in the farmland area I had just been admiring, I ran past horses, cows and more horses. In fact, I saw one runner up ahead who was stopped and patting one of the horses…I was unsure if she had planned this in her pacing, but she was still there by the time I passed her 30 seconds later! Whatever floats your boat I say, but I thought I’d save patting horses for after the race.

I hit the marathon mark of 42km, and instead of feeling absolutely drained like I’d expected, I was beginning to think I might actually finish this race. I thought I’d increase the tempo for a few kms to get me to the 46km Checkpoint 3, where I’d see the support crew and be able to have a quick breather. I could hear the cheering, and music and sweet vibes a good five minutes before I could see them-Checkpoint 3 was going off! People were everywhere, but the only ones I cared to see were Michelle, Brad and Kirsty who were ready to attend to my requests in super quick time like the champions they are. I sat down, shoved heaps of food in my face (most of it went in my mouth), and told them what I’d eaten as we had to keep track of calories so I wouldn’t fade away. I stocked up on some more food, and toilet paper (already two poos in 46kms-about average for me!) and left them after 11 minutes of rejuvenating. They were really positive and I think quite surprised at how good I looked, but I knew this was the easy part, and that the kms would only get increasingly harder as the day wears on. I was mentally preparing myself for the real battle to be fought from the 50km onwards.

With only 11kms to checkpoint 4, I kept the pace up a little, knowing that one of the toughest climbs was coming up at the 55km mark, called Nellies Glen, which would slow me right down. It was at this stage the ol’ stomach didn’t feel the greatest. Whether it was because today was the first time I was experimenting with salt tablets, or the fact that I’d eaten more lollies than a eight year old at a birthday party, or what the specific case was I wasn’t sure…but it wasn’t enough to slow me to a complete stop. Nellie’s Glen was extremely steep, and I just kept focused on “walking with purpose”, as I knew it was easy to let a 5.5km/h walking pace slip to a 3.5km/h walking pace without really noticing, which doesn’t seem like much-but over a race as long as this, is enough to add hours to the finishing time. The trail was tough, but certainly beautiful, and about halfway up, somewhere between the muddy steps and the trickling waterfalls pooling beside lush green ferns I found myself stopping quickly to take selfies of myself with the scenery…something I certainly haven’t done during any shorter distance races, but I now thought the girl who had stopped to pat the horses wasn’t so crazy after all!

Hiking up the steep trail, alongside the cliff faces, my Garmin lost satellite reception and-like me-was a little bit spaced out, and by the time it regathered itself, I was a little disheartened to learn that when my watch told me I had covered 57km, I was only up to the 55km mark. First world problems, I know, but another mental kick in the groin to deal with for the rest of the race.

Reaching the top of Nellies, I let out a loud “WOOOO!” knowing I’d just tackled one of the toughest climbs of the course, and my battlecry scared the wits out of one competitor who was taking a leak in the bushes nearby…sorry mate!

Back on the streets of Katoomba, the course was relatively flat (well flat compared to the trails but still hillier than most streets I’d run on!) and I could hear some spectators cheering people on by the Aquatic Centre, which was CP4, at the 57km mark. I entered the basketball courts to the crowd cheering and quickly found my crew. Once again, they were outstanding, tending to my every need, and telling me I look fantastic every thirty seconds. I’m sure I didn’t look fantastic but this was one of their duties-to keep my spirits up…Lucky they are good liars! I changed into some warmer gear, and after a quick 2 minute noodles (like I hadn’t had enough of those this year) had left the check point after about 14 minutes-a little longer than I had planned.

It was 5pm by the time I hit the road again, and with the sun dipping below the horizon, I got the trusty headlamp out and mentally prepared for another 21kms until the next CP. My night training had consisted of two runs, totalling a measly 10kms in the dark, and although I was underprepared and a little out of the comfort zone, the fact I had to concentrate on where I put each and every step actually took my mind off the enormity of the task at hand, with 43kms total still to be run.

It was a shame the sun had gone down just minutes earlier, as the section I was running would have looked unreal in the daylight! As I skirted along the cliff edge, I looked across to Scenic World, and saw a small trail of headlamps snaking their way up the tough Furber Steps. The lights would have been from some of the front runners of the race, considering we were now about 11 hours into the race. How nice it would be to be finishing now! But I still had eight or so hours left of running at this rate. I could just make out the outline of the Three Sisters and I made my way down the Giant Staircase…which is a staircase, which is giant-sized…it speaks for itself really! There were a few tourists lingering which slowed me down a bit, but it was a pretty slow section anyway, taking what felt like 10 minutes or so to reach the bottom. I was really relying on the handrails and using the muscles in my upper body to help lower me down the tight, winding steps, trying to conserve energy in my legs. Once at the bottom I thought this leg would be pretty straight forward and not too up and down, but boy was I wrong! I guess I should have studied the elevation profile for more than 30 seconds! Around the Leura Cascades area there were metal staircases that went on and on, and just when I thought I would be back out the valley, we’d go back down again, then up, then down, then up. It was hard to get a good pace going but I continued to jog any flat sections to keep my pace half respectable. It’s all a bit of a blur really, and the first thing I distinctly remember was getting to the Water Point at 66km and the volunteer yelling “We have water, we have lollies, we have high-fives!”…I didn’t need any water, but the lollies, and especially the high five was a boost!

I got some “real food” (a banana) into me along the road section just before Leura Golf Course and took the opportunity to chat to some of the other runners while we were side by side. I’d always start off with a Carl Barron-esque “how ya goin?”. To which they would reply with not much enthusiasm, or tell me about their injury concerns, or how much they were hurting. It seemed I was feeling a little better and more confident than the handful of people I’d small-talked with. I guess the people who were feeling better were ahead of me actually running, rather than making friends at snail pace like I was. I boosted along the fire trail and onto Tableland Road, recording a few quicker kilometres, knowing I could have a little rest at CP5, which was just up the road at the 78km mark. My opinion was that the leg between CP4 and CP5 was the hardest, with the constant change in surfaces, and ups and downs. I had a lot of close calls-nearly rolling an ankle three or four times as I wasn’t used to night running on trails and at that point my body was just shufflin' along, and not too agile. By this stage, I knew it wasn’t going to be fatigue that would be my undoing in the race, it would be a silly mistake such as tripping on a rock, or slipping off the track and injuring myself that would stop me. Each time I had a stumble I would berate myself, telling myself to slow down and concentrate, which was easier said than done in the mental state I was in.

With a nice hot soup (which tasted like heaven in a bowl) waiting for me at CP5, my awesome crew were on the ball and I was in and out of there without much fuss within 10 minutes. I’d told my crew all day that CP5 was when I’d need them the most, and that I could be pretty banged up by this stage, knowing that 70km was the most I’d ever run in a single day before (and that was 2+ years ago). Although I was about as fatigued as you’d expected from a bloke that’s just run 70kms, I had no real injuries, and felt relatively good and confident I’d get through the final 22kms-it was just a matter of how long it would take.

My goal of a sub-20 hour finish time had been pushed to the forefront of my mind since about the 50km mark, and I’d been slowly but steadily building up some “spare time” in the knowledge that the final 10kms had a vertical rise of nearly 1000m, and that I’d be knackered by then. Leaving CP5 I had 5 hours to run 22kms, and I knew IF nothing went wrong (that’s a big IF!) I would do it in roughly 4 hours. If something went wrong, an extra hour would be meaningless-I was well aware a cramp or stomach problems, or countless other problems would require me to have an extended stop on the last leg. With this in mind, as soon as trail started to descend down the Kedumba Walls, I let gravity assist me and I just let loose. Sure, I wasn’t as fresh as a daisy (however fresh that is), but I knew after roughly 10kms of steep downhill, I wouldn’t need my quads again, as it was all uphill. (It sounded like a good theory anyway!). I passed quite a few people on the way down, and no one passed me. With every “quick” kilometre that passed, I knew that would allow me a “slow” kilometre on the way back out the valley.
The emergency aid station at 91km was a good chance to stock up on some more lollies for the long slow climb (my teeth felt pretty much completely rotted from copious amounts of sugar consumed by this stage now anyway-what difference would an extra few snakes make?) .

I was glad I’d bombed down the hill, because I was slooooow on the way back up. Quite a few of the people I’d passed on the way down were now overtaking me again, which I had expected. The 91-95km were pretty hazy, and I could feel that I “wasn’t all there”…although my body kept moving forward, my mind had shut off. I was unsure if I needed more sugar, more salt, or more water. What I needed was a nice warm bed, but at the bottom of the Jamison Valley that wasn’t really an option! My Garmin had died by this stage and without knowing how far I’d gone or my pace, my mind didn’t really know what to concentrate on. Around the 95km mark there was a nice girl and guy who had caught up to me, but weren’t keen on overtaking me, and said they were happy with the pace I was setting. We talked as we powerwalked along the now relatively flat Federal Pass, with my headlamp leading my feet over rocks and branches. It was what I needed to stimulate my brain and keep me from slowing down, and we cheered together each time we saw the 96km, 97km and 98km marker. Although I was enjoying the company, knowing I was only 2km from the finish with a chance to now crack 19 hours, I decided I’d start up the jogging again. I starting dumping water as I reached the bottom of the Furber Steps, and starting the steep ascent up the buggers. They seemed to go on forever, and I would just keep counting each step to keep my mind off it. I got to over a thousand, so I either miscounted them (highly likely), or the race organisers lied to us by saying there were only 900. But either way, a few short steps later I could hear cheering and I popped up onto the familiar looking entrance of Scenic World. Up ahead I saw the North Face 100 banner, and underneath was the finish line. My crew started cheering and I crossed the line in 18:55, raising my arms in the air and let out another big “WOOOO!”, knowing that was the last kilometre I’d have to run.

After a few hugs and congratulations, the first thing I did was head to the table giving out the Bronze Belt Buckles. Putting the table up a flight of stairs was a bit cruel if you ask me, but I was happy to hobble up them, eager to see my prize.

The guys kept asking me how I was feeling, and I just couldn’t find the words. The mixture of extreme fatigue with the elation of beating my goal was balancing me out into a subdued idiot that just kept answering “I don’t know!” (or something equally as uninspiring) to every question they could throw at me. We drove back to the apartments and discussed the race a bit more, before heading to bed for a well-deserved sleep.

Looking back, I was proud of myself for managing my body to get through the 100kms without breaking down. I knew the lack of training meant I was vulnerable to screwing it all up in a number of different ways, and I’m surprised I didn’t! But with some good carb loading (one of my favourite things to do), conservative pacing, good research and a well thought out nutrition plan I think I got away with it! A small part of me knew I left a few hours out there on the course, and I know I will be a little more ambitious next time around, but knew I’d done about as well as I could without blowing up and DNFing.

All in all, it was an awesome race which I am already keen to get back to. The race director Tom and his team did an epic job to make the event run like clockwork. There were volunteers EVERYWHERE, who were extremely helpful, and although I hadn’t run any of the course previously, I wasn’t even close to getting lost (physically anyway-I was mentally lost from 91km onwards!). The event expo on the Friday night, and the presentation on the Sunday morning were both great, and after having the event marked down in the calendar for so long, I was reluctant to drive home and put an official end to the weekend. But knowing that there’s another TNF100 in 53 weeks’ time, I’m already looking forward to the next one!

Below are a ton of pictures...some from Aurora Images, some from the ol' IPhone and some from MAC Photography www.macphotography.biz , otherwise known as the lovely Michelle!

 

Nervous and excited at the starting line. 0km

 

The biggest road section of the day. 4km

Still smiling...only 96km to go! 4km 

Federal Pass. 6km

 

Artsy stuff

 

Narrowneck. 13km-ish

 

Horsing around after CP2. 33km

 

View towards Ironpot (this is way steeper than it looks!). 35(?)km

 

AWESOME support crew-Michelle, Brad and Kirsty-THANKYOU!

 

Support crew making life easy for me at CP3! 46km

 

 

 

 

Creeper shot from behind the bushes. Just finished Nellie's Glen. 55km

 

No red carpet here...coming into CP4. 57km 

Heading down the Giant Stairway. 60km.

 

 

Wishing I wasn't being a knob in every second photo

 

Trying to be a Lowes model, showing off this season's Hi-Vis Vest

 

Cheesiness ruining another sweet pic

Coming into CP5. 78km

 

I ate the bowl of soup in about 4.3 seconds...soooooo good!

Spaced out with 4kms to go. 96km

 

Crossing the finish line. 18:55.13. 100km

 

Buckled!

 

Friggin awesome weekend!

  

 

I just signed up for the North Face 100

What’s 100km long, gnarly as all hell and will most probably beat the living crap out of you if you dare to challenge it?

If you answered an extremely long Anaconda who is majorly pissed because you just stole its eggs and pooped in its nest, I will accept that as a valid answer. However, why anyone would steal Anaconda eggs, or poop in its nest is beyond me. I’d be getting in touch with Guiness World Records first of all. Actually now I think about it, that answer isn’t going to fly anymore you egg-stealing, nest pooping freak.

I’m sure there are other equally stupid and suitable answers but if you answered The North Face 100 ultramarathon race, you are most definitely correct.

Today I signed up for a new challenge, one I’ve wanted to get involved in but the timing was never right…the North Face 100. The TNF100 is a 100km ultramarathon that snakes a trail up and down the massive gorges, valleys and ridges of the Blue Mountains, just west of Sydney. It is run by under 1000 runners on a Saturday each May (it actually goes until 11am on Sunday, as some people don’t finish it in 24 hours-yep it’s a big one). Next year, I will be one of those roughly 1000.

To say I’m pumped is an understatement. To say I’m absolutely packing it, is pretty close to the mark too. It’s not the only the fact it’s 100km that overwhelms me, among numerous other things, it’s the elevation. Over 4500 metres in elevation over the course, meaning finishers will have run an accumulative incline of over half the height of Mount Everest, with not a smelly Sherpa in sight.

I know a handful of people that have done TNF100 (and some that have been extremely competitive) and it certainly has interested me. It was always on my bucket list, but I never seriously set my sights on it for myself or gave it much serious thought. Never more serious than a Kardashian marriage anyway. But now, I’ve decided next year is THE year. With our Perth to Sydney bike ride plan scratched, I needed something to fill the void, and although there may be a different charity adventure with the boys a-brewing, I’m excited for the TNF100 to be a part of that hole-filling.

To regard it as simply 2.5 marathons is as foolish as a donkey who has just bought volcano insurance and doesn’t do it justice or give it the respect it deserves. Unlike a marathon on the smooth road, the TNF100 is on rough trails, and also has stairs and rocks and creeks to contend with, and even a ladder section or two down rocky cliff faces, if I’m not mistaken. With features such as the Giant Stairway (the 900 steep stairs right by the 3 Sisters), Tarros Ladders, Kedumba Valley, the Golden Stairs (which sound at least a little fancier), and Megalong Valley (which sounds, well mega-long), it’s bound to be hell on the quads (and hammies, and calves!). And that dreaded elevation I mentioned before. The elites finish this race in under 11 hours. (Last year eleven runners went sub 11hrs, with the winner finishing in a crazy 9hrs16mins (that’s even quicker than watching the Lord of the Rings Trilogy!) The average competitor might finish in 14-24 hours. The cut off time is 28 hours, which would mean you would have been running/walking/crawling from 7am Saturday to 11am Sunday. And I guess that’s nothing to scoff at-nearly half the competitors DNF (Do Not Finish) or DNS (Did Not Start). Whether the main cause of DNSers is because they chickened out is not known, but I’m going to assume that’s the case.

It’s early days, but my goals are as follows:

A goal: Sub 17 hours (Midnight finish)

B goal: Sub 20 hours (3am finish)

C goal: Simply finish it

Setting an A, B and C goal is the way to go…A goal being the one that you’re aiming for if everything goes your way, get good weather conditions, no injuries in training, no mishaps on the course, everything goes perfectly perfect etc. B goal being one you’re one you are realistically gunning for, and are stoked at achieving, even if the planets didn’t align. C goal being a bit of a back up goal, and one you’d “be happy with” at the end of the day. This reduces the pressure a little, so you don’t end up hurling objects and screaming and breaking tennis racquets like John McEnroe if you miss out on your main goal.

The winner of the North Face 100 gets (among other things) a sweet engraved Gold Belt Buckle. Any runner finishing in under 14 hours gets a coveted Silver Belt Buckle. Finish under 20 hours and you get a Bronze Belt Buckle. Finish in over 20 hours and all you get is a pat on the back, so you better hope your pants will hold themselves up. I’m not a big fan of wearing pants but my goal is to get that Bronze Belt Buckle, even if only to collect dust!

To be honest, if you don’t mind staying awake for over 24 hours and you walked the entire thing, you would most likely complete it within the cut-off time. I think the fact some people over exert themselves and push too hard for a particular time goal is the reason a lot of people DNF. Unfortunately, being someone who doesn’t like to leave a lot in the tank after an event (although something that I’m often guilty of) I am not going to practise what I preach, and I can foresee myself either finishing in under 17 hours, or being forced to drop out entirely, more likely than finishing in a safe walking pace of 24-28 hours total.

But I’m getting ahead of myself, and have 5 months to get training starting TODAY! Well as I look outside there is a foot of snow on the ground…and it’s minus 6 degrees…AND there are three games of American football on today…so today is not looking like a good training day. Perhaps I’ll have to wait until I’m back in Australia in six weeks. Until then I might watch the Lord of the Rings trilogy twice in a row to work out my pacing, and download pump up songs such as “Eye of the Tiger”…gotta start somewhere.

PUMPED!!!!!!

 

As long as my liver is still good for me to ruin that with post-race beers...sounds good to me!

 

Welcome to the jungle

 

Artsy fartsy

 

If I go missing on race day-I will be down here somewhere

 

 

Falling over like a boss

I mentioned in a previous post that I’ve fallen over multiple times while running. Yes it sounds ridiculous, but just like the chances of Lady Gaga’s next single sucking, it’s bound to happen. How many times do you see a baby take their first steps, only to collapse into a hilarious crumpling mess? How many times do you see a fat kid waddle over to the playground, only to trip in hysterical fashion, going head over turkey? Heaps!

The fact they are kids and I’m not doesn’t matter, the fact is, if you do something enough times, things are bound to happen to you. If you enter the lottery each week for your entire life, aside from the fact you’ve mindlessly wasted so much your hard earned cash, you have more chance to win it than the person who buys a ticket just once in their life. If you spend an hour a day staring at the ocean, you have more chance seeing a whale than the next person who just glances at it (let’s not get technical with whale migration seasons here). Hell, I’d go as far as saying that if Lady Gaga keeps releasing songs, eventually (key word being eventually) instead of being cheesy repetitive dribble, she might actually fluke one that is able to be listened to without wanting to stab yourself in the ears. In my case, the fact is, if you spend enough time running, you are bound to fall over here and there occasionally.

Off the top of my head I can count four occasions. The first, being the near death experience of being eaten by furious red ants near Yarrawarrah, which I posted about previously.

The third time, was during a freezing cold February day in Dublin, Ontario, when the ice on the road was thick and the snowy conditions that day made it worse. As I was running, I peered through the snow thick snow hitting me in the face and made out the headlights of an oncoming car approaching. I attempted to cross to the other side of the road, only to sprawl clumsily flat out on my stomach, belly sliding for a good distance before coming to a less than elegant halt in the slush. Making matters worse was the fact the oncoming car A) saw this embarrassment take place, B) didn’t stop or slow down to check on me and C) sprayed a heap more icy water in my direction as I lay there feeling cold, wet and sorry for myself. Did they think I was just making a snow angel in the middle of the road? Jerk. Was probably Lady Gaga driving that car.

The fourth time was just the other week, when I discovered some nice trails running through a conservation area not far from home. This new trail cut through a grassy area beside a cornfield. Finding it impossible to watch my every step as my feet hit the long green grass I looked up to get my bearings. My hit-and-hope method, was more hit than hope, and stepping into a nearly knee-deep Groundhog hole, I was quickly turned upside and rattled, on my stomach sprawled out. At least it wasn’t snowing this time.

The second time turned into more of a story. It was a Sunday in September 2011 leading up to the Sydney Marathon. It was a couple of weeks away and I knew I needed to get one more long run in at race pace, and then I could taper my mileage until the event. I planned to do a 32-34km out-and-back run down the Old Princes Hwy south of Sydney. Now the Princes Hwy is a major highway running down the coast from Sydney to Melbourne (and further onto Port Augusta, South Australia for the record), however the OLD Princes Hwy is just as it sounds. Old. It has lost most of its use, as the newer road is faster, straighter, and bypasses a lot of things the older version doesn’t. With a few exceptions, the only reason people would need to drive on it, is for a scenic drive, or if they are lost.

Anyway, enough of the highway history lesson. I was enjoying my run along the relatively quiet, narrow and winding Old Princes Hwy and keeping the pace I was aiming for. Things were going great guns. Until I was nearing the 16km turn around point when all of sudden a little bump in the gravel threw me off balance and I went hurtling forward towards the ground. I put my hands out in front of me and the sharp gravel pieces did their worst. Even throwing my hands out was not enough to save the harsh meeting between the ground and my face. Yep…I faceplanted.

I sat up, inspecting my palms and noticing the dark blood already pooling in them while the gravel-ranging in size from a grain of sand to a small sharp marble-littered my hands and forearms. I touched my cheek…bleeding too. “What a knob” I thought, quite correctly.

I sat there for a little longer, wondering how best to handle the situation. No phone, no transport. Guess I just have to suck it up and run the 16km home. As I dusted myself off and starting limping in the direction I had come from, the blood starting circulating a little faster and in turn, my hands started bleeding more. I tried to stop it by pressing my palms against my shirt, turning it from a nice white colour to deep red where my mitts where. It slowed the flow temporarily, and as I kept running, I kept my hands on my stomach, which made me look like a chuckling Santa clutching my belly. Well, a skinnier version of Santa, and without his costume on. And without reindeers (otherwise I’d just ride home on them). Come to think about it, I didn’t look much like Santa at all, but my hands were on my belly nonetheless. To be honest the last thing I felt like doing while my palms and face was throbbing was running another 16kms home after just doing that.

The normally low traffic on the road was even lower being a Sunday, with cars driving past at a rate of about 1 per 5-10 minutes. When I finally heard a car coming from behind me I wondered if this was my ticket out of this horrid run. Continuing to jog slowly, I stuck my thumb out as a hitch hiker would, put on a hopeful smile and twisted my head a little, to see if the car was interested in picking me up.

The wind in my hair from the car as it passed me suggested otherwise. A few minutes later I heard another car and tried the same method to no avail. Same with the third attempt.

I thought about this failing strategy, and realised how stupid it was. Of course they don’t want to pick a runner up-they’ll be thinking “just keep going you lazy slob, you are meant to be running, man up you baby-you’re not going to get any fitter if I pick you up”.

Hmmm. I had to change plans. I know! When I hear a car, I’ll stop running, turn around, and look like an actual hitchhiker-that should work! So that’s what I did. First attempt-unsuccessful. Second attempt-unsuccessful. What the hell? It was at this point I had a good hard look at myself (both physically and proverbially) and realised the copious amount of blood on my shirt, arms, hands and I presumed, my face. I looked like I had just murdered a kangaroo and eaten it’s flesh and drank it’s blood. If drivers were unsure about picking up a hitchhiking runner, they sure as hell weren’t going to pick up one covered in blood.

I put my head back down, and continued running home, knowing the only way I was getting there was on my own two feet. Until, finally, luck was on my side in the most remarkable way. Up ahead of me I noticed a car, but not any old car-it was my Dad’s car.

My luck was finally about to change. I’ll get Dad to drop me home-sweet! As the big fella drove towards me, I waved my hands in the air, flagging him down. And then, my confidence turned to heartbreak…he gave me a wave as if to say “G’day mate” and kept going on his way. I turned and watched as his car disappeared south into the distance.

“Are you serious?” I thought to myself. Apparently so.

The good news was that my luck was about to change, just a little later than I expected. And that came in the form of the field my Dad was driving towards happened to be closed. Which meant that within ten minutes Dad was heading back toward my direction, and this time he actually stopped.

“What happened to you?!” he said, as he noticed the blood all over my clothes, arms and face.

My reply was about as extended as I could make it considering I was so over the past two hour run “Stacked it. Tried to get you to stop before, cheers for that.”

“Oh I thought you were just waving, I didn’t see the blood”.

I didn’t really mind about too much else at that point, I was just happy to be in a vehicle heading home as my hands were still throbbing in pain, and I was keen to start digging the gravel out of them. We drove up the road and I was home 10 minutes later. Ironically, all of this happened on Father’s Day.

So there you have the four times I’ve hit the deck while running. And considering I’m not planning on stopping running anytime soon, I’m sure I’ll have more to come. In fact, I can almost guarantee the next one will be before Lady Gaga finally releases a decent song.

 

The aftermath of the faceplant...and I wondered why no one would pick me up!

 

I know how ya feel buddy

 

Steven Bradbury and his Olympic Gold medal thinks people falling over is awesome

 

 

The time I ended up naked on the side of the road while out for a run

I’m sorry for the visuals so early on. I know the side of the road isn’t always the most eye-catching or pleasant thing to visualise but, to share the story properly all details must be shared.

I’ll set the scene…picture a typical Sydney stinking hot and dry Sunday in mid-January with the temperatures well into the 30s. Most people would be happy going to the beach, or watching the cricket inside their air-conditioned house. Although I spent a lot of time at work, as it was BridgeClimb’s peak season, our Melbourne to Sydney Run concept was about two months old, and I was increasing training, month by month. In my days off between work and general summer shenanigans I managed over 250kms in training in January.

Perhaps one of more peculiar of those kilometres was about to take place on this day though.

I had planned a 30km run from Heathcote to Cronulla and back to Sutherland. I threw a $10 note in my pocket in case of emergency (emergency being code word for food, and food being code word for Maccas), put my earphones in my ears, grabbed a water bottle for the road and headed out.

All was going well, and after 7kms, getting past Engadine, instead of running on the shoulder of the Princes Hwy, I had the slightly nicer option of stepping up off the road and following a neat little dirt trail, flanked by gum trees on either side, but still only a few metres off the road, running parallel to it for about a kilometre. Any excuse to get an extra few metres gap between myself and from the cars zipping by at 90kph sounded like the safer choice, or so I thought…

With a new visual stimulus in the form of the gum trees, I didn’t happen to notice that a little further down this narrow track there would be a thick Orb Weaved spider’s web stretching from tree to tree right across the track, about five feet in the air. Needless to say, within seconds of crashing through the web, strands covering my face, neck and chest, I began flailing, grabbing at my face with my free hand trying my best to get the sticky web off me while continuing to run. Looking down to inspect my shirt, I noticed the spider on my chest, who seemed to be making its way up to my neck. The flailing quickly turned to swatting, which turned into pure panic and with my focus having to be split between staying upright on my ever-running feet or flicking this big spider as far as possible, I guess the fact that I absolutely wiped out and ended up lying on my back in the dirt (with the spider now nowhere to be seen) means that I chose the latter. That was the safer choice, or so I thought…

I’ve taken a tumble a few times during my running days. And as old clumsy Grandpa style as that sentence sounds, I guess the more you run, the more chance you have of falling, and although I’ll generally be up on my feet within a matter of 10 seconds or so, you’re a bit rattled, you want to dust yourself off and check that everything is alright before getting up. That was the safer choice, or so I thought…

As I lay there, within about two seconds my body told my brain that the ground beneath me wasn’t flat, and that I was lying on a distinct and rather large mound. Within about five seconds, my body told my brain that my skin was tingling. Within about 8 seconds, as I lifted my neck and checked myself out, my eyes told my brain “ummm…body is a freaking moron, we’re lying on an ant hill and that tingling sensation is us being covered in hundreds of red ants!!!!”

“SSSSSS**********@@@@@@@TTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!”

As I freaked out and jumped quickly to my feet, the ants freaked out and just starting biting at whatever this fleshy thing was they were now aboard (I can’t actually confirm if the ants were in fact “freaking out” as their facial expressions are so tiny and I couldn’t tell, and I had other important things to worry about…maybe they were just having a bad day or were hungry? I haven’t consulted National Geographic on this but I’m guessing them freaking out is the most logical explanation).

The pain from each bite was INTENSE! And the worst part was they were biting me EVERYWHERE! It was unlike any other hurt I’ve experienced before. REM thought they had it right when they sung “Everybody Hurts”. No. That’s not true. It should have been called “You haven’t felt hurt until you have hundreds of red ants covering your body biting the crap out of you”. A catchier title, and more scientifically accurate.

I didn’t know whether to run, to stand still or to jump up and down like a maniac. And to be honest, with my brain going at 100mph I wouldn’t be able to recall just which one I did. Although looking back at the comical GPS data (below) you can be the judge yourself.

In any case, simply flicking the ants wasn’t working-they wouldn’t budge-their vice-like pincers were so big and had such a good grip flicking them just seemed to enrage them more. I had to literally squeeze them one by one to eradicate each one. Seeing that I was losing this battle, I decided the best way to get rid of a good number of these six legged demons was to whip my shirt off. Without hesitation I threw it as far as I could. I continued bouncing around in pain, battling away, just a few metres from the road, now shirtless. Before too long I had most of my arms and upper body cleared. The battle was swinging in my favour until all of a sudden and with the worst bite of all, the immediate thought in my brain was “HOLY HELL THAT ONE BIT MY NUT!”

The profanities yelled that day were countless, but at this stage, none of that really mattered. All that really mattered was that my privates were becoming a red ant buffet and that is what I would happily classify as “not cool”. Just as my shirt had been whipped away, off came my running shorts. The fact that the shorts have built-in underwear meant that I was now completely butt naked (minus the running shoes) jumping up and down, trying to kill each of these little critters. As cars whizzed by, I’m sure that the majority of them kept their eyes on the road and had a normal, pleasant day without seeing any strangers in the nude in their peripheral vision by the gum tress. Unfortunately I know for a fact that at least two people didn’t have their eyes on the road when a series of gleeful honks came my way as they passed my sorry naked butt.

After five minutes of pure mayhem, once I had rid myself of every single last one of those damn red ants, I had to wander over to my shorts, and decided before putting them back on to inspect each and every square inch of the fabric, so I didn’t get any nasty surprises when I put them back on. I’m not sure which would have been stranger sight to a passing car- seeing a naked man jumping up and down as if he is doing a tribal dance, or seeing a naked man lifting and inspecting running shorts so closely like he was some Neanderthal who had never seen clothes before.

After inspecting my shirt, and pulling countless ants from it, I put that back on safely, and then had to find my Ipod which had been flicked away in the trauma, and my water bottle which was a good ten metres down the track. My emergency ten dollars was nowhere to found and I deemed it a causality. The next person to find that 10 bucks will have no idea how it escaped my possession, and I doubt they will want to.

I continued the run, stepping down off the track and back onto the road. Cars flying by me at 90 kph seemed like a better alternative to what had just happened. That was the safer choice, and this time I knew it.

That night was spent Googling remedies for ant bite pain, as my lower back in particular was peppered in bites and when turning up for work the following day, I had to be put on “light duties” for two days because I couldn’t wear my climb belt! I guess the ants and spider combo won this round!

I guess the moral to the story is “don’t jump to conclusions about naked men jumping up and down like a constipated gorilla on the side of the road”. A good life motto for anyone, and would be even catchier as an REM song title.

 

The GPS data showing me "freaking out" rather than running in a straight line. Bloody ants

 

Pretty evident to tell where I fell victim to the oldest trick in the book-the ol' "spider web/ant mound" one-two punch.

 

 

Orb Weavers-not so bad when they are on you. Definitely bad when they are on you

 If still saying no to animal cruelty when one of these are biting you in the nads, you need to give your head a shake