FFFTM

There were a couple of reasons that I wanted to do the Fitzroy Falls Fire Trail Marathon (FFFTM.) It provided a good excuse to make sure we would go an visit DJ and Jo in Kiama, ad it seemed like a good way to see how my trail legs were holding up because I am thinking of having another crack at the Six Foot Track next year. I was going to take it easy, just enjoy myself. My training was had been patchy, I was fighting a cold, I'd had a couple of nights of interrupted sleep with little lady blah blah blah.

Yesterday started cool and grey. At least the rain had stopped and the howling gale had passed. I got up as quietly as possible, making sure I only woke both Sally and AJ as I fumbled around in the dark. I grabbed my few things and started the one hour drive up to the start. As I headed up the Jamberoo Mountain Road I found myself driving into the low clouds. It was very murky, but hey, it was not going to be baking hot and it still wasn't raining. Didn't seem too cold. Very spooky and atmospheric, and any other day I'd have stopped to take some pics. I arrived at 7am, checked in and picked up my number - 9 - before heading back to chill out in the car. Didn't fancy doing too much warming up of stretching, what with this being an easyish hit-out and anyway, the first couple of km are the warm up.

At 7:45 there was the race briefing. We were told about the steep rocky part of Gun Rock Creek trail that could be a bit sketchy, the location of a couple of rather large puddles that we may be able to avoid and were reassured that it was unlikely we'd get lost. There were about 10 water stations. Three people ere already on the course, one an American woman who had arrived the previous day, had done one previous marathon, in Washington, on relatively flat roads that she had finished in around five and half hours, which is the FFFTM cut-off time. Max the marshal advised her to head off early. There were three runners who were copeting in their tenth FFFTM, all the more impressive as there have only been ten. The sweeper was in his 196 marathon. A small ripple of applause, well deserved, for these folks.

Then we were told that for the first time there would be a sort-of-seeded start for the faster runners. Men with bibs 1-10 and woman in bibs 11-20 should start up front. I was a little pleased that my hooder was covering my number 9; flattered, but I was not sure it was warranted. I found out after the race that my Gold Coast 3:07 was responsible for my place at the pointy end of the pack. Thoughts of a easy run started to give way to thoughts of well-I-best-make-an-effort-to-live-up-to-my-billing-shame-I-am-undertrained-and-feel-a-bit-shit-this-could-hurt. Ah well.

I ducked back to the car to dump my warm clothes, had a quick piss and got to the start with about 10seconds to go. I quickly found the course on my GPS (better safe than sorry; difficult to get lost we'd been told, not impossible) then the race started and we were off. The race does not attract a huge field, partly because it sits in the calender near to a couple of other events. There was a little it of overtaking action at the beginning and then those around an in front of me pretty much found their places relative to me and that was it. I was fairly sure I'd dropped a couple of places and at one point though I was maybe about 15th, but I wasn't sure.

The cloud had lifted or the mist had cleared, depending on your point of view. It was cool an overcast and pretty much perfect. I don't remember a huge amount about the run. The course is very pleasant, almost all on fire trails; pretty obvious when you consider the name. The thing is, that makes it a bit samey. Don't get me wrong, very pleasant samey is way better than shit-house samey. Near the start and end you get a cracking view out over the valley below the escarpment. If you're not in a race it is well worth a look. The bottom of Gun Rock has a similarly spectacular vista that I ran past without stopping to take it in. Does not make for a great read this bit, sorry.

The course was, considering how much rain has fallen, quite dry. It was damp underfoot but not sodden and as most sections were not particularly rocky (being firetrail) there was little need to pay close attention to footing. I rolled my ankle slightly a couple of times, but not so much as to cause injury. The drink stations supplied only water, so I had a tactic. I carried a Powerade and a gel sachet. The Powerade I would start at 20km and I'd down the gel at 30km. There were a couple of stations with fruit, so that should see me through. I'd decided to drink one Powerade before the race and cary one, rather than take a small backpack with the second bottle in. I changed plans slightly en route. After 10km or so I would take a swig of Powerade at the drink stations and then top up the bottle with water, extending the life of my sports drink if diluting it. That seemed to work well. I had the gel at around the 34k mark.

The course, with only a couple of very brief exceptions, is completely runnable. On the one hand that is a good thing because the event is a run; whereas on the other it sucks arse because it means you'll end up shattered. There are plenty of hills, so towards the end any uphill was a real grind while any downhill was a world of pain. Unlike Six Foot, there is nothing that you look at and instantly know you'll be walking. By the end I was struggling, and to be honest I think I was struggling from about the 30k mark. That said, I was overtaken by only two people after the initial shuffle; one was a dude in a hat who looks like he runs and runs and runs and another a tall dude who was moving with such ease and grace that I am amazed it took him 35km to pass me. Maybe he started an hour late, or had got lost and done an extra 10k somewhere.

A guy I see around the office and who usually has an early start had told me the front runner go past him at around half way. I passed him at the 20k drink station and just after that I passed American lady. Somewhere around 23k, as I headed out on an out-and-back section I met Andy-whose-other-name-forget-but-who-is-damn-quick coming back. At this stage I was running close to a guy in a 'Navy' singlet who I went past and who did not overtake me again - though I had the nagging feeling that he would as I faded badly towards the end. As it was, only Mr Ease and Grace overtook me and lets face it, he should have ben in front of me all along.

I stopped at all drink stations apart from the first and the last two; I didn't feel I needed a drink at the first and had the bottle to finish at the end. Not sure if these mini-breaks helped, but they did not harm and you could share a few words with the Rural Fire Service guys who were giving their time to support us. Top sorts, the lot of them.

Before I forget; as I'd driven up to Fitzroy Falls I could hear, in my mind, the voice of a guy I worked with in London saying, in his Eric Cartman voice, "suck my balls." Sam number of syllables, innit. I digress.

I finished the run trying to think what FFFTM might otherwise stand for and came up with Fuckety Fucking Fuck This Marathon, which at the time seemed appropriate. Still seems appropriate today, as I hobble around with the grace and elegance of a dual-hip-replaced-octogenarian. With haemorrhoids. Most of my leg muscles seem to have packed up with the calves leading the way. Sitting is good. Sitting works. Should be good by Wednesday.

With 500m to go the course does a sharp 90degree turn for the final hill home. A small group of people were there cheering us along and that gave me a bit of a lift. I ran the last hill a little more quickly that I'd run the last couple of km. The race is not chipped and the clock at the finish line is visible to the timekeepers, not you, as you cross the line. There were a few people cheering as I finished. I stopped, turned and looked up at my time. Three hours, twenty four minutes and some seconds. Not sure if I said fuck that or holy shit first but I am pretty sure I said both. That was far better than I'd expected and faster then my first two road marathons. I was pretty knackered, but I'm pretty sure I was getting congratulated by a few people for my PB. I didn't let on that it was my first time in the Fuckety Fucking Fuck This Marathon. I sort of staggered away from the finish line, clutching the number 11 I had been handed.

I'd not quite been worth my seeding, but didn't really care. Considering my run up - the longest warm up was a 32k run I'd finished in a little over 3.5hrs, I'd not given up on the booze as I usually do, less sleep than is good for me, fighting a cold and aiming to finish in around 4hrs - I was and still am very pleased. The only slight downer is a personal one; in order to spend as much time as possible with Sal, AJ and our friends I scarpered pretty sharpish when really I should have hung around and cheered home some of the others. I was also thinking I'd need to get the drive done before my legs proper-seized up, but mainly I just wasn't thinking. I'll not beat myself up about it too much; more time spent with my lil' lady (Sal went shopping in the afternoon!) the better.

Executive sumary: Wonderful event, surprising performance, will almost certainly be back.