Starting at Katoomba in the Blue Mountains West of Sydney, it follows what originally was a bridle track for 46.6km (Edit: old course) over some of the most rugged and beautiful countryside you can experience in these here parts, to finish at the pituresque Jenolan Caves.
The truly fun bit about this doddle through the wilderness, is that there is well in excess of 1,000 meters (3,000') of ascending and descending to contend with.
Having heard about the race before, when my mate Paul (a regular runner with the Sydney Striders) suggested we do it, I jumped at it. Having not run much further than out of sight on a dark night since the late 80's, I figured this was just the event for me to recommence my running career.
Training commenced early January, 8 weeks prior to the event. My theory was that I was pretty fit from my kung fu training and as I had done some pretty horrendous bush walks during the early 90's, my muscles should adapt quickly. Its nice to have theories!
After 1 x 12km run and 4 x 10km runs, I figured it was time to crack the psychological barrier. Having never run further than 14kms in one go in my life, the concept of 46.6km (with mountains)was a little mind blowing. So, obscenely early one Saturday morning I set out on a 44km pilgrimage along the Cooks River bicycle track from Tempe to Ryde and return. "OUCH" and "BLOODY OUCH". Was I sore afterwards, but I'd made it without stopping in 4.36.55. Slow, but the barrier was broken.
The rest of February involved regular runs and a few trips with Paul up to the mountains to do some running at altitude on bush tracks. A few set backs with having a golf ball sized cyst cut from my neck, a cold, and my good old calf muscles playing up again only gave me confidence that everything was going to plan. I'd be nervous if everything went smoothly.
The night before the race, Paul and I drove up to Blackheath where we had booked a cabin for the night. Paul put on his chefs hat and produced a great feed of gnocci for our final carb load. After nattering on for longer than was good us we hit the sack, but between pre-race nerves and all the water we had drunk to pre-hydrate, sleep was fitful.
Morning (hang on the sun isn't up yet - this is severely challenging my erstwhile held concept of "morning") came all too quickly. Out to the local park for some Taoist Yoga, a quick feed and tubs and its time for the final prep. Out comes the goanna oil, and vaseline (being extremely careful not to confuse which parts of the body they both go on). Right then, lets do it!
Driving to the start, my mind was working overtime on all sorts of "honourable" reasons why I shouldn't be doing this, but when Paul rejected my "oh, I just remebered, I have an overdue library book to return, I better go home" line as a pure fabrication, I knew I was in for a full due.
The start is just like most other runs, nervous humour, last minute stretching, quick offs to take a last minute leak. There is a difference however, except for the elite few, this isn't about competing, this is about survival. You can see it in the faces, feel it in the air, everyone knows they are "in for it", this is serious! One slip, a twisted ankle (or worse) and you're out of it. Deep inside there is doubt about the things you can't control, but also a conviction that no matter what, you are going to give a good account of yourself. It's powerful stuff. The cameraderie is palpable. "Oh ye band of brothers".
Bang! We're off! Shuffle, shuffle, push, prod, hey look at me Ma, I'm runnin! The first bit is a bit of a hoot as you head away from Explorers Tree on a fire trail, its pretty steep down, and while there is only 400 odd runners it seems like thousands as people jockey for position. It's a bit outrageous and the possibility of coming to grief is high. I just look for safe ground and hope for the best.
Soon we come to the top of the stairs that take us down through Nellies Glen. We slow to a walk as it is single file and the steps are wet. At the bottom, it's off and away, there is some panic that having lost time on the stairs we need to bolt. It's a common thread. People are running way too fast, including us. Onwards and downwards we gallop further into the Megalong Valley. Presently, we come to the first of what turns out to be numerous sets of styles (steps over fences), didn't expect this, oh well up and over, there that wasn't so bad.
After the first feeding station we settle into a more sustainable rythym (in hindsite it was still too quick for me). Damn! Have we only done 3kms??? Look, horses, wonder what they think of all this? Probably thinking "well there goes the neighborhood" (no pun intended on the neigh bit).
Ahh the Megalong Valley Road, spectators clap and cheer, this is nice. Once across it's onto a single file walking track, not much point in even trying to pass here, so just go with the flow. As we lose more height there is a point where trail drops and takes a sharpish right hand turn. SNAP My God!!! (expletive deleted) Was that My ankle that just made that horrific noise? Um judging by the pain, er yes, as a matter of fact I think it was! On hearing the snap and my not so stifled exclamations, Paul turns to see wassup. I urge him to keep running as I am way to frightened to stop and look at my ankle. It aint broke cause I can hobble, and soon I am back in stride. (To this day, Im not sure what happened, my ankle was a bit swollen and sore after the race, but the damage didn't seem to correspond with loudness of the snap and the initial level of pain).
The trail then gradually winds it's way up over some open ground to the top of Pinacle Hill. All in all it's rather nice running in the morning sun. Lots of people are complaining how hot it is this year (it will top 30 degrees later in the day), but heat never seems to affect Paul or me very much, so we just keep at it.
Over Pinacle Hill and the topography changes dramatically. It's into eucalypt forest as the track meanders down the side of the Cox's River gorge. We've tacked onto the end of a group of about 8 runners. Paul as usual has found a nice set of calves to follow (running with Paul has it's advantages).
The next 6km's is treacherous as the trail descends over broken ground with the occassional limestone outcrop. Most people slip or take a tumble during this stage and I am no exeption. Feeling pretty good that I have made a couple of remarkable recoveries and stayed on my feet, I become complacent and go down like a bag of spuds. The damage isn't great, skinned knee etc, but I can't seem to stop the blood flowing out of a gash on the palm of my hand. Oh well, the river isn't far, I'll sort it out there.
River! yup thats a river alright, funny, I didn't think it would be this wide. Nothing in the contract mentioned getting ya feet wet! Quit whingin, just get across. Time out for a splash around and a quick wash of the bleeding bits. Once across there is a 1st aid station and a sad and sorry site it is too. The queue of claret covered runners tells the story. Fortunately, Paul and I in a fair division of labour are carrying between us; a triangular bandage, a space blanket, a chapstick and vaseline. I dig out the bandage and wrap it around my hand. It's nice to be independent, it avoids the queues!
Suddenly, my eyes light up, Paul groans (he knows what is about to happen), I have spotted the feeding tables. Complete with banana's, oranges, drinks and all sorts of good stuff. I'm ready to settle in (after all it's a big animal, you need to keep it fed and watered). Paul has slightly more competitive ideas and after some complex negotiations we both give a little ground and agree (begrudgingly) on a compromise of what is an acceptable amount of time for eating and drinking.
From Cox's River it's a 500 meter (1500') ascent up to Mini Mini saddle, then a 150 meter (450') descent to Little River followed by a grinding 450 meter (1400') ascent to the "pluvio meter" on the edge of Black Range. All in all 10.5km of quad tearing, lactic acid producing, soul destroying UP! It wasn't possible for me to run up most of this section and I encouraged Paul to go ahead if he wanted. We had made a pact at the start of the race that we would stay together till Caves Road (at 37km). As good as his word Paul stayed with me and nursed me up that massive hill. We did however run the down bits (quite recklessly) and some of the less steep up bits, passing quite a few competitors in the process.
The pluvio meter was a beautiful sight. I was feeling good, mentally I was up, I was well hydrated, the system seemed all set to go. Trouble was, no one seemed to be able to get in communication with my legs to tell them this. I couldn't believe it! The hard bit was over, and my up muscles were off somewhere in the dark recesses of my quads sulking. They had the humph with me big time. Everytime I tried to cadjole them to run they just stubbornly said "nuh" and "up yours Jack". I didn't have cramps, my legs worked ok when I walked, but my up muscles were completely shot.
Paul patiently stuck with me for the next 10km's as we gradually made our way up 200 verticle meters (600') to Caves Road. Walking the up bits and trotting the downs and the flats. It must have been frustrating for Paul as the world and his dog passed us by. I consoled myself with the notion that it was the end result i.e. a finish that I was interested in. The time for me was irrespective as long as I beat the critical cut off times. (7 hours for the whole shebang).
Just when we thought we had slipped into a temporal time zone and that Caves Road was somewhere about 8 galaxies away, it appeared. A quick drink, a handshake, an "all the best mate" and wooshka, Paul was gone. Fit bastard! Guess I was a bit envious. Oh well upward and onward. The next 4 kms (Edit: old course - now it is via the "deviation") is on the sealed road to Kiora Hill and whilst the map says that Kiora Hill is lower than the start point on Caves Road, I only seem to remember going up!
It was here that I started to get competitive, walking up the hills, I would focus on the next in front and reel em in. I did get passed occasionally but the net gain was positive.
From Kiora Hill it's back onto fire trail for the final descent over 6kms and 400 verticle meters (1200') into Jenolan Caves. It was here I saw a sad sight. Some poor chappy had done something disasterous to his leg and by the look of it he was well into shock. I felt sorry for him having come so far, but I reckoned he'd achieved none-the-less.
A miraculous thing happened. I went into another zone of existence, for the last 6kms I was king of the road, I was Batman, Superman, Spiderman and Thor all wrapped into one. There was so much endorphine running through my veins I made a Kings Cross junkie on speed look sedate. My down muscles who had secretly been resenting my up muscles now took control to show those up malingarers exactly what they could do. I flew, I never got passed once in that last 6 km's and I certainly reeled in a few, "coming through" was the catch cry.
This is euphoric and heady stuff, running as fast as you can down steep gradients on extremely loose and broken ground with a horrific drop off the side of the track, one mistake and.... But the subconscious was in control, neatly timing footfalls to get onto solid ground. It was like being a kid rockhopping at the beach (Paul reported exactly the same sensation).
Down, down and more down, onto a formed track, have to be careful, dont want to slip on this smooth surface, can't have a tragedy now. Stairs, ok stairs, I got it, there is someone in front, I'll get em at the bottom... "that's it you've finished". Huh, what, why is this person holding onto me telling me it's finished? I still have someone to pass. Slowly it sunk in, the bottom of the stairs was the end. I had expected a quick sprint to the finish line, a bit frustrating what! (NB nowdays there is 100m "sprint" at the bottom)
So that was it, I'd made it in 6:14:50. A little slower than I'd wanted (I was aiming for a sub 6) but I was happy. A look around the crowd and there was Carol and my mate Steve who with his son came for the trip. There was Paul too, he'd done a 50 minute or so last 10k to finish in 5:52ish. Amazing!
I wandered around while the endorphines in my system were busy looking for somewhere to settle down for the rest of their lives and have a nice cup of tea, a bex, and a lie down. My down muscles were gloating over the up muscles and for a while it looked like there was going to be a full scale fued, with my up muscles staging a full walk out. It was a tense time. Finally, some kind of truce was arranged and they collectively decided to get on with the important job of supporting me.
We hung around for the presentations, the winner, one Andrew Kromar finished in 3:38:06. I'd be ecstatic to run a road marathon in that!!!! Then we jumped in the cars and headed home with promises to do it again.
Big thanks to the Bush Fire Brigade who manned all the feeding stations and 1st aid points and to whom the proceeds for the day went so deservingly to.
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