...sometimes, the bear eats you

We found the humour eventually. It was inevitable, really, once discussion turned to U.S. politics. In particular, the race for the 2016 Republican nomination (I mean, really...). I won't go into the details, but there we were, reprising Monty Python's The Four Yorkeshiremen routine, somewhere close to the 50km Boneo Road aid station.

Things were not going well. We'd resigned ourselves to missing the 8 hour finish line cut-off, which if anything, had improved our outlook on the rest of the day. If I had to guess how hot it was, I'd say it was about 80 degrees (Celsius). At least, that's what it felt like at the time.

Back when we started the 56km Two Bays Trail Run, seven hours ago, we had planned to be finished by now.* And the first 27km had led us to believe that everything was on track. As the 2km downhill stretch of bitumen leading to the halfway point wore on, however, that plan went out the window. At some point close to half way, the ultra demons started to prey on the body and mind of my running partner and fellow Dandenongs Trail Runner, Chris.

Dandenongs and Lysterfield Trail Runners unite before the start

When we reached the turnaround point, Chris was like a changed man. Maybe I should have noticed some earlier warning signs, backed off the pace and pulled the pin on the 7 hour goal. Or maybe it just hit all at once. This latter scenario was, and probably still is, Chris's official version of events. But Chris is so polite he'd never tell me if I pushed him too hard, to soon. It's a pointless debate anyway - the fact was, I knew then that we were in for a long second 28km.

Like some cosmic riddle, the climb up the bitumen hill at the start of the return leg from Dromana to Cape Schanck didn't seem anywhere near as long as the descent did. But once we entered the National Park and hit the steeper part of the climb up Arthurs Seat, it was Game Over. Chris was struggling to put one foot in front of the other, the steps built into the trail not helping things.

The heat was starting to bite and talk turned to just getting to the next aid station to guzzle some water. When we finally reached it (the small but very cheerful aid station in the Rosebud street section), the volunteers were, as always, eager to help and ask how things were going. We walked into the aid station and walked out of it - running was now something we rarely contemplated.

The type of unconventional assistance offered at Two Bays aid stations

(Photo credit: Adrian Foster)

It was only another 2.5km to the next major aid station, at Browns Road. We continued to yo-yo with some other runners (we're still runners, even if we were walking), as each individual had their bad and good (or at least, not-so-bad) moments. Cresting another hill, we arrived at the aid station.

It could have gone either way. Chris was sitting down on the ground, sharing a few quiet words with yet another wonderful volunteer. At this moment, Chris seemed to me like Schrödinger's cat - both "alive" (still in the race) and "dead" (withdrawn). We just had to wait until someone opened the box.

Berating himself with a quick "Come on, Chris", he got off the ground, thanked the vollies and headed towards the trail. He was alive! A little further on, he told me he'd re-assess at the next aid station. Well that, I told him, was Boneo Road - about 11km from here and 5km from the finish. And there was no way he was pulling out with 5km to go.

So we walked, rested and even ran a little. We discussed nerdy topics like escalator throughput and cricket prediction algorithms. We were slowly ticking off the kilometres, but I don't remember obsessing over it - we both knew we wouldn't be recording an official time today. It was just about finishing.

Evidence that we did run a little

(Photo credit: Phil Larkins. [How good is it!?])

And then, we arrived at the Boneo Road aid station. Or, "paradise", as I like to think of it. A young lad poured some ice down the back of my singlet. One girl poured some iced water over my head, whilst another was jumping up and down, dancing, singing and chanting encouragement. "How do they keep this up?", I thought, gratefully. In fact, these kids seemed to defy the law of conservation of energy - they lost none, yet transferred enormous amounts of it to the runners.** From out of nowhere, a Zooper Dooper was thrust into my hands by some benevolent apparition.

Chris was receiving the same treatment as me and I paused to reflect on the exceptional commitment every volunteer made today to make this run as easy as possible. I mentioned later to Chris how in awe I was of them and he agreed that they once again delivered in spectacular fashion. They deserve all the thanks they get, and more.

The finish line was 5.3km away and we set off to find it. With somewhere between 1-2km to go, 8 hours ticked by. I didn't even notice. We were going to finish and that's all that mattered.

About 500m (?) before the finish line, we were greeted by our personal supporter base - Les, Cheryl, Shawn and Jonathan, who represented the Dandenongs Trail Runners with pride that day. As they accompanied us to the finish line, I joked to myself that it would suck to be DQ'd for employing pacers, but something told me we'd be ok. Just before the eyes of the Two Bays world at the finish line could settle on us, Chris and I broke into a devastating sprint finish to the line and crossed it together arm-in-arm.

Together again. One team.
(From L:R, Jonathan, me, Shawn, Les, Cheryl, Chris)

I'm not sure how many people ended with a DNF against their name that day, but I'm tipping it was much higher than usual. That Chris wasn't one of them is a testament to his determination and strength. Aside from that, he's also a bloody good person.

There's really not that much more to say, so I think I'll leave it there. Chris has already summed up his day here, with far more economy, wit and style than me.

On a final note, an alternative title for this post was "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." That just about sums up my 2016 Two Bays Trail Run.

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* We had started with another friend, also named Chris (the guy in the photo with me at the start line, in the LTR top). At around 13km he was looking good and forged ahead with a mate of his. In a perfect ending, Chris ended up crossing the line in 6:59:38, a mere 21 seconds up his sleeve in his quest for a sub-7 hour finish.

** Ok, that's two physics-related examples I've used, which is very dangerous considering I am not a physicist. There's little doubt I've misused these examples, but please don't feel the need to point out any errors in the comments.

Movescount file: http://www.movescount.com/moves/move89921979

Two Bays 2015: A Lexical Odyssey

This weekend I lined up in my favourite race on the calendar: the Two Bays Trail Run. I had registered for my second attempt at the ultra distance - a 56km run from Cape Schanck to Dromana and back, situated on Victoria's Mornington Peninsula. What follows are some cobbled-together thoughts of how it went.

Aid stations. In fact, all volunteers, be they manning aid stations, offering directions, or helping at the start/finish areas. The vibe at the aid stations and the enthusiasm shown by the volunteers are key factors in what makes this event so special. A special thank you to fellow Dandenongs Trail Runner Les Corson, for his help at the 50km aid station.

Boardies. You don't often associate board shorts, Hawaiian shirts and floral leis with running. But in this race, those things get you a priority start! My $10 'race boardies' from Kmart worked a treat.

Cramp. Last year, I cramped 700m before the finish line, both quads seizing up completely and losing me several minutes. This year, some calf tightness in the last couple of kms seemed to be the worst of it, until, 200m from the finish line, PING! Thankfully it only cost me a few seconds (and one place) this time. I do wonder, though, whether it's now a mental thing, rather than a physical one...

Dandenongs Trail Runners. The DTR crew were out in force this weekend, across both the 28km and 56km distances. I won't single out particular individuals, because that would do an injustice to the ones I didn't mention, who all (I'm sure) achieved goals, overcame difficulties, pushed through pain, etc. I'm privileged to be part of that group.

Emotions. Ultra running really does bring them all out. Elation ("I'm flying!"), Despair ("I'm wasted"). Optimism ("Bring on the hills!"), Pessimism ("I can't get up this"). Camaraderie ("You're doing great, keep it up!"), Competitiveness ("I'll pass you back, you swine!"). What a great sport.

Facebook. Rohan Day (race director) was probably the first RD in the trail/ultra running community to recognise the importance of social media. The Facebook community surrounding his runs is phenomenal and is another major factor in the popularity of this event.

Greens Bush. This was the section of the course that was my salvation (see Q and R for more info on that). Once I hit Greens Bush at about the 40km mark, everything started to work again and I started to enjoy myself. Finally passing some other runners did wonders for my confidence, too.

Feeling good (finally) in Greens Bush

Hills. I thought this is where I would have my edge over most of the middle of the pack runners. Instead, after going out too hard, both of my ascents of Arthurs Seat were actually slower than last year. Even some of the more gentle hills on the return leg were slowing me to a walk. Oh well, there's only one way to get better at running hills, they say... Better get myself back to the Dandenongs.

Injuries. Unfortunately, many of my fellow DTRs were sidelined due to injury. That several of them turned up to cheer on those of us who were running is a testament to the group's esprit de corps.

Jump. This photo of DTR regular and all-round good guy Luke Johnston was too good not to include. Thanks to Luke for letting me include this!

Might as well... Jump!

KPI. My main 'Key Performance Indicator' for the last few ultras has been to improve my position in the second half of the race. At the half way point of this race, I was pretty sure I'd fail on that front. But I actually managed to make up 15 places between Dromana and Cape Schanck. There you go.

Laughter. Yes, there was even laughter. When I dragged myself up a pinch towards the end of Greens Bush (~48km-ish?) to be confronted by a photographer, I mustered enough energy to blurt out "I'm not running for you!". The picture captures the moment pretty well.

I run for no one

Medal. If there's a better race medallion out there, I want to see it.

The Two Bays medal - just perfect for a post-race beverage (Photo credit: David Adams) 

Next year? As much as this is my favourite race, and the one that first exposed me to the joys of trail running, it happens to coincide with the time-honoured Bogong to Hotham ultra. Chances are next year I'll miss Two Bays for the first time in five years and test my strength in the Victorian Alps, but we'll see.

Organisation. I've written about the volunteers and Facebook, but really, the success of this event is down to Rohan Day, Kate (Mama Two Bays) Ablett and Michael (Clarkey) Clarke. They leave no stone unturned, no 't' not crossed, no 'i' not dotted. They listen to their participants, they innovate, they build not just an event, but a community. And they deserve all the plaudits they receive.

Personal best. With a finishing time of 5:48, I knocked 20 minutes off last year's time and went sub- 6 hours in the process. It's a good thing I didn't...

...Quit. Yep, at the halfway point, I came pretty close to unpinning my race number and throwing in the towel. I'd gone out too hard and paid for it on the ascent/descent of Arthurs Seat and here I was, having to face that hill again, straight away, with another 20km+ to go after (if) I managed that. A big factor in my continuing was seeing DTR legend Vanessa Bolton at the turn around point (Vanessa was sweeping the course). Vanessa's exceptional performance at the Alpine Challenge miler in December 2014, where she was out on course for 40hrs+ gave me the inspiration I needed to tackle another measly 28km. Thankyou Vanessa!

Race plan. So, what got me in that situation in the first place? Well, after some confidence building training runs, I decided a week before the race that that's how I'd treat it - as a race. This is instead of a training run for Buffalo, which had been the plan all along. So I went out strong, and by the time I hit the Browns Road aid station (18km), I was 15 minutes up on my time from last year. Just 3km later at McLarens Dam, with the first major climb staring me in the face, I knew I had erred. From there until the 40km mark, I struggled mentally and physically. I was spent, I was frustrated, I was being overtaken. But then, well, see 'G', 'K' and 'P', above for the rest.

Stairs. There's nothing like being faced with stairs the day after an ultra. I might have climbed Arthurs Seat twice during the run, but being confronted with one flight of internal stairs at the office the next day is enough to make one's legs tremble.

Tailwind. I had again used Tailwind Nutrition (mixed with water) as my fuel source, after a successful outing at the Marysville 50. The 2.5 litres I mixed up lasted me pretty much until the 50km aid station, when my bottles ran dry (thanks for the refill, Les!) and I had my first gel in months. I'd forgotten how bad they tasted. For anyone who wants a carb-based fuel for long runs, I'd recommend giving Tailwind a try. I'll even give you some of mine.

Undulating. The word 'undulating' takes on a whole new meaning in the last 16km of this race. It sounds so forgiving on the Two Bays website: "The middle of the track passes through mostly undulating Track through national park and forest." And yeah, I remember it being pretty nice during the two 28km runs I completed in 2012 and 2013. But in the 56km, those 'undulations' play with your mind and suddenly, you're thinking the profile of this section must look something like this:

What Greens Bush to Cape Schanck looks like to an ultra participant

Views. One of the (few) good things about my miserable 20-40km section was my attitude that it was ok to stop and take in the scenery. It really is a gorgeous course, with beautiful views. This isn't the best of them, but hey, it's the only one that got caught on camera.

Striding out strong, early in the race

Weather. If you listened to various reports in the week leading up to the race, Victoria was going to be swamped by a biblical-scale weather event. Well, come the morning of the race, it was a relatively benign 18 degrees, albeit with a rather high degree of humidity. Towards the end of the race it got pretty warm, but only 24 degrees or so, which you can't complain about in the middle of summer. I did feel for the guy I passed at the 54km mark who was wearing full length Skins...

EXcel. (What do you want? It's 'X' for crying out loud.) Those who know me well are aware of my penchant for spreadsheets and analysing data. So it is perhaps unsurprising that I've dumped my data from the 2014 and 2015 Two Bays runs into Excel and produced a couple of charts. The first shows how many seconds faster (below the x-axis) or slower (above the x-axis) I was in each km this year, compared to 2014. See what I mean about going out too hard and paying for it on Arthurs Seat? The second one shows why this happened, and indicates the dangers of running to a particular pace and not thinking to check your heart rate.

Yo-yo. What my race resembled. This is the first time this has happened to me in a long distance event. I've usually felt good the whole way, or started bad and ended well, or started well and ended badly. I've never actually had a race where I went through a really bad patch and come out on the other side feeling good. And on reflection, I'm quite glad it turned out that way, because I'm sure those demons will surface at some point during the Buffalo Stampede.

Zeno's paradox. The ancient Greek philosopher Zeno of Elea argued that motion was an illusion, made impossible by the fact that, in order to move one unit of length, you first had to move half a unit of that length. But before moving half a unit, you had to move a quarter of the unit, and before that, an eighth of a unit, and so on ad infinitum. What the hell does this have to do with long distance running? Well, the next time someone, a non-runner, hears about your exploits and says "I don't know how you can run that far!", think about what Zeno might have said. "Well", you might say, "First, I tried running half that distance. And before that, I tried running a quarter of that distance, and before that...". Who knows, maybe you'll be the inspiration that has someone toeing the line at Dromana or Cape Schanck a few years from now.

*All race photos by Supersport Images.