My preparation for this event certainly wasn’t ideal, but that can happen sometimes. It was far more important for me to be the almost full-time carer for my beautiful wife who has been my reliable crew on all my long runs. Even though she is recovering well from her super major op just over four weeks ago, she still has a long way to go.
It was when our good friend, Sam Schroder, told us that she
was going to participate in the Gone Nuts 50k event that I made up my mind to
register as well. The plan was for Sam and I to stay together the whole way to
encourage and support each other while her husband, Luke, was our crew for the
day. Later on, our son told us that he was registering for the 50k as well, but
he is far too fast for me to be able to keep up with him. Now that he has the
ultra-running bug, he doesn’t want me to retire from the sport.
Leading up to the event, I was so busy caring for Val,
trying to get the house and gardens ready for a trip away that my training
wasn’t ideal. Also, I hadn’t been sleeping as well as I needed to for this
event. Everything was going against me and for the first time (and I’ve already
completed Gone Nuts twice for both the 25k and 50k events, as well as numerous
other events) I wasn’t looking forward to the run. I was nervous and
apprehensive to the point of wondering if I could finish the distance.
The day before I began getting all my gear together
(including a bag of clean clothes to change into after the event). But, and
this was a big mistake, I totally forgot to trim my toenails and this came back
to bite me as the race continued.
The alarm was set for 3:00 am and I bounded out of bed to
make a pot of tea, have some breakfast and get my running pack packed with the
mandatory gear and the things that I would need for the journey—including a
kilometre by kilometre chart with the breakdown of elevation gains and losses
and three different times for each kilometre, based up my slowest result when I
had a couple of falls and broke some ribs. The idea was to leave home at 3:30
am … but it was 3:45 am before we drove out, heading to Wynyard Yacht Club (the
finish area) where we would catch the bus to Rocky Cape for the start of our
event. We arrived as the bus pulled in, but I had time for a quick toilet stop
before getting on the bus with Sam as we made our way to the starting area. We
arrived with plenty of time to spare … but it sure was cold and an icy wind
blew. After a visit to the toilet and catching up with some friends who were
gathering in the dark, I went for a walk (getting a couple of CityStrides nodes
on the way) to try and keep a bit warmer.
After a bit of a briefing, we were on our way. Sam and I
knew that we would be slower than most people, but that didn’t concern us as we
wanted to finish the event. We jogged and walked along Rocky Cape Road in the
dark, following a long line of headlamps bobbing along in front of us. After a
couple of kilometres I knew that this would be a slow run, because of the times
we were ticking over. Just before we were to leave the road, I knew that I
needed a toilet break and began to look for a convenient spot. There wasn’t
one, so I thought that I would head further down the road while Sam began the
long climb along a rocky track. Then I saw a sign to a toilet so decided to
head for that … but this added another 700 metres or so to my total distance.
It couldn’t be helped. I turned to run back up the road and arrived at the
beginning of the track which I began to follow. It was very stony, so I went as
carefully as possible. I hadn’t gone too far when I came across Sam who, very
kindly, was waiting for me. We were a team, and we were sticking together.
During the course of the event, we traversed every
imaginable type of terrain … except ice and snow. Someone had recently been
through the early part of this stage and cut back grasses and other vegetation
to make it easier. Even so, I thought that the track had deteriorated since I
first ran it (if my memory is right) and the deep and narrow ruts could still
easily cause a trip if I wasn’t careful. In places, it appeared as if Parks had
imported gravel/rocks to place on the track to prevent erosion. They weren’t
always the easiest to walk on.
Somewhere along the way, I noticed a Ziplock bag with a used
gel sachet. I picked it up, thinking that someone had inadvertently dropped it
rather than just throwing it away. From then on, I began to pick up every bit
of rubbish that I found and later put it into a bin when I found one. I even
picked up an orange whistle, a lip balm stick, some bits of wire and old pink
tape used as track markers for previous events. I kept this up until I found it
too hard to keep bending down. Mostly, I assumed that this rubbish had not been
thrown away on purpose, though towards the end I began to sense that some was
deliberately discarded.
By now we were mainly walking rather than doing some jogging
(except for the road in Sisters Beach and the final sprint home, both of which
we ran). We were content to do that. Even so we thought that we would still
pass some of the others ahead for us … but that didn’t occur. At Sisters Beach
I took a couple of little detours to knock off some CityStrides nodes and
complete three streets. At one stage, Sam had a fall but, fortunately, there
was no real damage, and she was able to get herself up and keep walking. The
same wasn’t true for me, however. We had passed through Boat Harbour and were
at the end of the rocks, just before heading uphill along a track when I over
balanced. Down I went. I lay on my back, not being able to move to get myself
up. Fortunately, two ladies were nearby—Carolyn and Jodie—and Jodie helped me
up, for which I was so thankful. We walked with them for a bit, until they
disappeared in front of us.
At times I was lagging behind Sam, but she didn’t get too
far ahead of me. At other times, I found that I was leading, or we were walking
side-by-side. She was great company, and I appreciated her encouragement.
Because we had been walking so much, I found it hard to start running—though at
the end we were able to sprint home down the boardwalk, over the bridge and to
the finish line.
Towards the end I was talking to Sam about this probably
being my last run and that I would instead concentrate upon parkrun events. I
was really feeling the strain. My heels were sore, having inadvertently picked up an old pair
of trail shoes that had already done around 1200 kms, so that I could feel the
stones beneath my feet; some of my toes felt terrible; my knees (the left one
especially) felt the jarring from my worn-out shoes; I hadn’t been taking gels
and ended up with a cramp (this disappeared when I took my first gel); I had a strain
in my left calf and a pain in my chest, just like when I had broken some ribs a
few years earlier. However, I’d had this soreness for some days (the jarring on
my back when I overbalanced didn’t help that though). But there was no desire
to pull out.
One great memory of the day was running down the boardwalk
to the finish with people clapping and cheering but especially having my two
Hobart grandsons (aged 4 and 5) running beside us shouting, “Go Pa. Go Sam”.
That was a bit emotional. Thanks Oscar. Thanks D’Arcy.
It was when we stopped at Burnie to go to Maccas for
something “proper” to eat after everything I’d had out on the course, that I
looked down at my shoes and discovered that they were the wrong ones. So that
is how my running career, when it comes to long ultra runs and those over
difficult terrain, has come to an end. In 2021 I finished first in my age
category (60+) with a time of 8:44:56. In this year’s run, I came in second
last overall and with a PW (that’s shorthand for Personal Worst) of 13:32:18,
that’s a minus 4:47:22 PB. Surely, that must be a claim to fame. So, the time
has come to hang up these trail shoes … but to hang them up with no regrets at
all.
