the Six Foot Track

I woke at about 05:30. It was still dark an still raining. On the plus side my throat had held on, I felt no worse than I had for the past three days so I was going for a run. After some umming and ahing I decided my best start to the day would be Sal giving me a lift to the Park and Ride. I had been contemplating walking but when I mentioned this to another runner-guest he made my mind up with "it's about 5km. The is NO WAY I'm walking that before the race." Good point, well made.

Sal gave me a lift to the start, waited a while as I bagged my stuff for the finish line, scratched my arse and decided it was time to get on the shuttle bus. On the bus I sat next to a guy I bump into regularly at work. Cannot recall his name, but he works in the same building as I do. Small world experience eh? I didn't have a lot to say - normal before a race - and sat pondering. I feel OK, no better than OK, but OK enough to finish? OK enough to run my normal race? How deep will Cox's river be? Waist deep? Chest deep? I've not trained long enough or hard enough. I just want to finish. Usual stuff - apart from the river bit, that was a new worry. At the start I grabbed a cuppa tea and some damper with syrup, tried unsuccessfully to have another dump (another common worry is needing to take a crap en route. It's happened only once, on a training run, a few years ago, so not sure why I worry so much about it. I digress...) I had a chat with an American lass who runs marathons in around 3:30 and was back for yet another SFT and, get this, she's seen kangaroos on her first one. Kinda cool huh?

With race start approaching I dropped off my jacket and waited just behind the start-line. At 08:00 the first wave, the hundred fastest in the field, headed off. Just five minutes later the second wave, those who expected and wanted under five hours, headed after them. That included me. In the damp conditions - it had stopped raining, but it was wet and slippery under foot - the start was a slow affair. We headed down the trail I'd walked on Friday evening and at the bottom headed right to the steps into Nellie's. This was slow going. It was muddy and there are plenty of stories of people coming to grief here - broke arms and legs, turned ankles and so on - so we made frustratingly slow progress to the bottom.

I really must go back so I can describe the place better than I will here. I spent so much of the time looking out for things that could bring me to grief that I felt, rather than saw how spectacular my surroundings were. Anyway, I made it to the bottom and onto the single track where I could start running. Despite the narrowness of the track the runners all displayed good form in letting people pass and before long at all the field was comfortable with each of us pretty well where we needed to be in the field. I picked off a fair few people, lost a few places when I stopped for a pee, picked the places back up again and got into a steady rhythm.

I was feeling quite good about my health and was happy with my pace. On the first, almost all downhill leg o Cox's River I caught up with Milov, who had dragged me home in the Oftord to Bundeena and helped me through the middle section of Beyond the Black Stump. At another stage I caught up with the American lass who had done the race a few times before and was a 3:30 marathon runner. Was I overcooking it? Was I heading out too fast in the first half, a sure way to blow up in the second? I still felt fine...

I caught up with and chatted to another guy as we approached Cox's and he told me something I'd read several times before. If you want to go sub-5 you need to get to the Cox's River crossing in under an hour and half. We got there in 1:26ish. Got there and found it was not the raging flood I'd feared. No messing about taking shoes off, I headed straight in and found that it was no deeper than a little over waist deep on my 5'6"ish body. There was a safety rope across the river that I didn't need to use, and there were support crew from the fire service there (and dotted all along the route.)

...on that, and I won't dwell; the firies were fabulous. The water and aid stations were spot on. Massive shout out to the organisers. Plenty of water and sports drink, fruit, candy snakes (rocket fuel!) energy bars and encouragement. Top notch.

Where was I? I was over the river and at the foot of the first serious climb. The Mini Mini Saddle. A little over 15km in marking the end of the downhill first third, the scene was set for the next 15km. Up to the Deviation at the top of the Black Range is the serious hills section. I was in no mood to blow up before half way so I decided to power walk up this first hill. This seemed to work pretty well. Hardly anyone passed me and I power walked past a few slower walkers. There were a few guys doing their best to keep running - albeit very slowly - on the ups. Many of them I overtook on the flatter or downhill sections. I figured that this was the best use of my energy - don't push it on the silly hills; walk, but power walk. Then on he downhills take any help gravity had to offer. Something I read ages ago kept coming back to me - Six Foot is all about running down hills and walking up them.

I don't remember too much detail from the second third of the race. At two and half hours I had my first Gu, figuring I was about half way through my time. The second Gu was planned for an hour and quarter later. My walk-run was working well, though I did need to curb my enthusiasm a couple of times when I wanted to start running some of the hills - maybe next year. I started to feel quite fatigued at one point and was having difficulty judging my pace.
But I knew I still had enough in the tank to bring me home; if I didn't do an ankle I would finish. My left shoulder ached and I kept swapping my water bottle from hand to hand, iguring I'd had it in the left for far longer than the right. Bu it always seemed to end up in the left again - was my mind starting to wander?

The water stations had KMs done and KMs to go displayed. When I saw I had 10.3km left I thought "fuckit, this is a 10k and that I can do." My pace increased markedly, I downed the second Gu and headed for home. What I figured was 300m further on I clicked my watch so I could time my last 10km. The next k or so was relatively flat or downhill and I felt good. I passed a couple of runners on their way back when I had about 9km to go - where they on an out-and-back? Fuck that...Then there was another hill. It felt steeper than anything I'd been up previously and when I saw it I burst out laughing, probably wasting a bit of energy that would have been put to better use in my legs. But I managed to maintain a decent power-walk pace up that hill and then, for the next few km I was mainly running, picking up a few places, then losing a couple. I'd been pretty good at avoiding looking at my watch, but with I guessed 6km left a guy asked me race time as I passed him. 4:02.

With maybe a couple of Km left the trail heads downhill and for the last km it is a narrow singletrack with a steep drop-off to the right. This is a cruel and unnecessary hammering for already shot legs. My quads and hip abductors where screaming at me all the way and each step - all run, but all run slowly - was a world of hurt. But with under a km to go you'd have needed to chop one of my legs off to stop me from finishing it. I was overtaken by a guy with more in his legs on the single track; I heard him approaching an pulled over to let him pass; he thanked me and I said he should have a beer waiting for me at the end.

The final 300m is on a cobbled path with small steps and then the road out front of Caves House. I nearly blew up right a the end...a marshall said "only three hundred metres" and I decided I'd sprint finish. With my first heavy footfall my right calf gave a nasty jolt but didn't tighten right up. So I kept the hammer down, determined no one would pass me from here. They didn't, and I crossed the line in 4:38:28, ninety fifth overall.

The finish is fantastic. It's a narrow road out front of the hotel and you see earlier finishers, supporters and general tourists cheering you home. It is a compact finish, you get your medal and join the growing crowd, watching others finish and waiting for the awards ceremony and the bus back to Katoomba. I grabbed a snag sarnie and a Fanta before heading into the hotel for a couple of brews and a natter.

In the pub I sat just across from Barry Keem, who won the race in a new record time of 3:23:13, beating the previous record set only last year (that previous record had stood since 1991.) Perspective; he completes the Six Foot Track more quickly than I complete a road marathon. On the bus back to Katoomba I sat next to Andrew Lee, who was sixth, and Tim Sloan, who won it in 2002. How many sports events can you take part in where you rub shoulders with such elite performers?

Will I be back? Damn right.