It was a crazy day. It hasn't rained here in a while but it was sheeting rain on all friday, the day before the race, and unfortunately the sheer volume of rain triggered the National Parks and Wildlife to shut down the key back end of the race in the Kedumba valley. Sent some shockwaves through the scene. The coach/physio who helped get me to the start line was plugged into the brainstrust and I got work pretty early Friday there'd be a course change; friday night about 8pm the word came through we'd be running an entirely different 50km then we trained for.
I trained for six months specifically on and for the course I was going to run, with a full hydration and fuelling strategy mapped out, as well knowing where to run, where to ease off, where I was going to hit snags etc. The course was the second half of the 100km event. Instead, now, we'd be doing the first half of the 100km event. The poor 100km event people had to do 3/4 of their event and then double back on the last quarter, through the Leura Cascades, the toughest part of the course for many as you go up and down the escarpment on stairs three or four times. The problem for me and almost everyone else is the first half of the 50km course ran out and through some very isolated terrain in the Megalong Valley and much of it was private or off-limits so, unless you had previously run the 100km course, you'd never ever have been out there. I hadn't.
But we were all in the same boat. We had to trust our fitness. The night before, many people were asking if we should still use our poles; the last 15km of the origional course in Kedumba was all uphill and poles a major tactical advantage; most people told us there was no such clear area in the Megalong Valley and not to carry them. I followed advice and left them. A repeated mantra as the hours and hills rolled by on race day was "I want to punch every single fucker who told me to leave my poles at home right in the fucking face". I should have brought my poles.
My run was very strong. Unfortunately I, and half the running community it seemed, got hit by a cold bug in taper and I was running with a slight fever and a cough but it really only got me a little at the end.
Running without knowing what was ahead apart from vague things was pretty freeing. I cruised the first 8km on single track, held up by some slower runners and slowed to a walk at the Landslide section, then hit the Golden Staircase up the cliffs which I'd only ever run once at the end of a 4 hour training run. I was strong there and passed many people without using too much effort. Fuelled the whole way, still eating Shotz Choc-Mint bars and Green Tea Tailwind.
Up top, we ran 10km along Narrowneck which is a stunning ridge between two valleys. Ran easy on the flats and hiked the hills. Ran hard without trying to brake on the hills, barely controlled chaos as they call it, feet landing underneath me and not heel-striking, not applying the quad brakes.
Then at the 20k hit the Taros Ladders. There's a section of cliff that has permanent, terrifying climbers spikes and for this event they rig temporary ladders you can climb down; you can also take an 800m slippery descent detour. It's a bottleneck there but the rule of thumb is 20 people or more, take the detour, otherwise it'll be faster to wait and climb. However, talk on the trails was we were all excited as, unless you do the 100km run, you won't ever get to climb the ladders. I got there, fifteen people ahead of me and happily waited, fuelled and took my turn. Incredibly fun stuff. Here's the people ahead of me getting on the ladders, and the photo looking down.
Down the bottom, ran well for another 5 or so, and then hit a massive hill none of us, on this track for the first time, knew was coming. It kept going and going and we knew the next checkpoint was at the top. We dubbed it 'The Fucked Hill' and it was there I regretted my lack of poles. It was there I also hit the wall hard. Never thought of quitting but it all started to hurt. I found a friend in a nice guy who kept me perked up and strong, we shared some good stories and at some point I felt strong enough to run on with new energy. He stayed behind, one of many friends I made for a few KM and lost; Unfortunately I looked him up later and found he DNF'd at the top of that hill.
We heard the sound of a didgeridoo rolling down the top of that hill and ruight at the crest some men from the local Mob were playing in the bush. It was magic, and what I needed and right there I got my second wind and took off.
I rolled into CP3 and refilled now-empty bladders. I'd followed a lifehack tip and used empty Gu/NuuN tablet things and filled them with Tailwind powder. At the CP it was easy to fill a flask with powder and then water. I tried instant noodles; people rave about them. I'm not so sure. I haven't had soft drink in almost fifteen years but the Coke looked amazing. I stayed strong. I rolled out, 31km down, and then we met up with the 100k runners who'd started a few hours earlier, our paths joining. I was surprised to see a friend on poles walking along; she was a strong runner who I expected to finish easily. She'd rolled her ankle at 7km on Golden and had been hobbling for 30KM (they were a little ahead of us). I walked with her for a KM uphill and we both knew and didn't say that there was no way she was going to finish. I left her there; later I found she DNF but made it to the 60km checkpoint, which is incredible.
A downhill presented itself to my tired legs at 32km and I put my head up, smiled and started to fly. I ran easy and well for the next 5km, down and flat, at 4.30km pace. It was a lot of energy to use up but I made amazing time and it mentally kickstarted me and when I finally slowed up at another huge hill around 39km it was like I was at the start line of a new race. Tired, with ITB now threatening both knees, and the cold really clamping on me, but alive.
I passed a 5 foot long red-bellied-black snake (pretty poisonous but not so bad, you probably won't die unless you're running an ultra marathon and a long way from help) dead on the track; its head crushed by a rock mere hours earlier, and wondered at the runner or runners who did that deed.
My goal for the other course was 7 hours dream finish, 8 hours ideal finish. At 41km I was at 6 hours and started to dream, but I knew ahead of me was one more challenge; people had been muttering 'Nellies Glen' ominously for the last while. None of us knew what it was, just that it was supposed to be hard.
It was hard.
It was winding single trail with steps and no hand rails that dipped and rose for 3.5km out of the Valley up the cliff to the top of the escarpment and it killed me. About 2km my left quad seized; the huge steps, three foot high, meant a spasm every time it lifted and i was reduced from taking single steps to slowly double footing every step. I lost a lot of time. Everyone was cramping. No one was talking; it was a single file of agony. We couldn't see where we were going. Every now and again someone would scream in agony as a calf or quad or, most agonisingly, a hammy, would explode in cramp. And we'd all stop and help.
I got to the top on my own in a dark place after an hour and a bit. An hour for just over three k. And I was cramping bad. And my right kneee, my GOOD knee, was crippled by ITB as I'd definitely been overusing it to save my left, bad knee. A chinese runner screamed and feel from cramps at the top of the stairs, right at the top, and I caught her. Her calf was cramping but she wouldn't listen to me and straighten it to touch her toes, she was lettnig the pain beat her and she was holding my arm so hard it has bruises today still. A volunteer - they're angels - waiting up the top, like 50m away, came running down and took her because I was barely alive. I hope she made it, I didn't catch her name.
From that point I knew the last CP was ahead somewhere, with 2 km after that to the finish. My goal was to beat the sun home and it was dipping over my back. I was cramping and it was three km of single trail gentle, stuff I'd have flown across six hours earlier but I was out of water and I couldn't bend my legs; if I did I cramped; so I was straight leggedly sort of bouncing down the stairs. I made it to the CP and they were making us put on High-Vis vests. I felt like night was going to beat me.
I looked at my watch and it said 49.5 and the Volunteers at the last CP were saying 'only 3 to go!' and my dead brain was going... 'that shit doesn't add up' but of course the new course meant the 50 - and this is always the case with ultra trail runs - wasn't ACTUALLY 50, that's always just a ballpark.
My ITB in the right was destroying me but I was running through the streets of Katoomba now closing on Scenic World and the finish line. I cried a bit; I was talking to myself, saying dumb things like "SHUT UP AND RUN YOU FUCKING LOSER".
I got in and the crowds lining the lead to the finish turn were calling my name - they're on our bibs - and I started to smile like a moron and then I saw my wife put my four year old over the fence up ahead. He looked like a deer int he headlights. I was on my own, no other runners around me, and people were saying "Go Adam!" and my poor boy wouldn't take my hand at first and I slowed but in my head I was thinking "this is your one chance, kid, I'm fucking leaving you here if you don't come right now" and he took it and we ran home and crossed the line.
In the five minutes it took the rest of the family to get over to us I sort of sat there with my four year old and almost cried/was a zombie. I'm sure it's going to fuck him up forever.
I did 7:40 and beat official sunset by 6 minutes. Next year on the real course, I'll do 70. I need to do even MORE glute stuff even though I did so fucking much glute stuff but apart from that, I didn't really do anything wrong, I'm pretty good with it all. Nellie's Glen killed me.
And that was my first Ultra - can't wait for the next one!