The first race of the year is the Six Foot Track on the second Saturday of March. There's plenty of running to be done before it, but this one is each year's first proper event and probably the toughest. The training had gone to plan this year, an almost carbon-copy of 2014; a stack of miles in January and then far fewer miles in February but a big run. January's total was out past 600km and I trundled a 50km run in February. I don't worry too much about speed work. I simply need to know I can cover 45km and I can run for around 5hours.
I took Friday off of work to travel to Katoomba and collect my race kit. Work has been exceedingly busy of late, and although there isn't a lot of tough stuff going on I've had my head full and have been finishing each day mentally tired. Physically I was in good shape, a kilogram lighter than normal (which I put down to my brain having to chew through a load more calories than usual to keep on top of stuff.) And I was cold-free, which felt a bit odd. I almost always feel as if I'm fighting a cold in the run up to a marathon but this year I had one day on the Lemsip over a week before the race and was then fine.
I left home after taking the kids to school and daycare and walking the dog. Sal was working from home and if I'd hung about I'd probably have been quite irritating, so at 10am I was on the road. It's a fairly easy drive up to Katoomba and I was there before noon. So was the fog. Part of my relaxing pre-race-day plan was to have a bimble about and take a few pictures. I sort of did that, but I took very few pictures. At its worst visibility was down to three white lines in front of the car. I did that leaning-a-bit-closer-to-the-windscreen thing and turned the stereo down but neither seemed to help much.
I bought 12kg of dog food. There was a Pet Barn near a car park and Rowlf is running low. It doesn't add much to the story, but there you go. I could have bought some antiques or hippy-crystals or a three sisters t-shirt but I went for the dog food. Practical to a fault, that's me. My food at lunch time was a suitably fatty and carby "Canadian Loggers Breakfast" at Pancakes in the Mountains. Two big fluffy pancakes, bacon, 2 fried eggs and ample maple syrup. Very nice too.
The fog, which may have simply been very low cloud, had cleared a little and it was still a bit early to check into my hotel, so I drove to the race start and parked up. I grabbed my camera and wandered down towards Nellie's Glen, which is pretty much right at the start of the race. Nellies Glen is a spectacular gorge. A steep set of steps takes you through a Jurassic Park like other-world. It is, even in the fog, incredibly beautiful. I took a few pictures with my phone before heading back up the steps, questioning the wisdom of going down them on my rest day. It was pretty wet underfoot and quite slippery, so the first couple of km of the race looked like they may be slow. At the top of the steps I headed out to the lookout to take an ironic picture of a spectacular view of fog.
From there it was back to the hotel to check-in and chill-out before my planned pasta dinner. The Grand View Hotel in Wentworth Falls has a grand view of the Great Western Highway. In its faded pink paint it looks a little like a derelict brothel. Inside the brothel theme mixes with a touch of Kubrik's Overlook Hotel from The Shining. But hey, the barman who checked me in was friendly and for $65 I'm not going to complain. My room was the essence of basic; single bed, sink, old dresser and a bin. There was a television, fridge and tea making facilities in a communal lounge. I do love the phrase "tea making facilities", it is such a grand way to describe a kettle, bottle of milk and some tea-bags in a cup. I've stayed in a couple of similar places in Katoomba. Cram in as many cheap-and-cheerless room as possible along dark corridors but leave some quite magnificent shared bathrooms. The Victorian fittings, the wonderful old tiling - hangovers from the glory days. These hotels remind me of places you'll find on England's Channel coast. All faded grandeur and old-folks.
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| The Grand View |
I think I nodded off for about 10minutes, then snapped awake and bounced to my feet. I wanted a decent night's sleep and didn't need to jeopardise that with a nana-nap. Despite the Hotel's proximity to the highway, my room - at 8ft wide I am tempted to call it a cell - was surprisingly quiet. Maybe it just seemed quiet compared to home, but it was looking like I'd get a decent sleep if the pub below didn't get too rowdy. I pinned my race number to a shirt with vaseline-stained nipple marks. Before a long run I grease my nips and groin and the vas can stain. It isn't a great look, but as I'd be covered up before the gun and sweating like a racehorse after the first 200m I guessed no one would notice and anyone who did would realise that I know the pain of chaffed nips and how to avoid it.
Six pm and I was in the bistro ordering the four cheese ravioli from a magnificently moustached waiter. The food was good. The waiter returned to ask if I wanted to see the dessert menu to which I answered no, I don't need to see it because I know I'll have the sticky date pudding. This was also good in that "I think I'm about to have a heart attack" way that is the hallmark of a decent stodgy pud. Lacking the room for even one waffer thin mint I went back upstairs, watched a bit of shitty tele, showered, set a couple of alarms and fell quickly asleep.
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| Carbs aplenty |
I woke a few minutes before 4am and deleted the alarms I had set for twenty past. I got dressed and bimbled about for around 45min, had an early breakfast of an apple, banana and choc-chip cookie then gathered my things and headed off. There was a light mist but no rain. I did the short drive to Katoomba High School and the park and ride's makeshift car park. I got ready for the bus to the start. Which roughly translates to standing in a dark field in the middle of nowhere rubbing vaseline on my nipples and nob. It isn't a glamorous sport.
I got on the first shuttle bus and was at the start line a bit before 6am. Enough time to have a cup of tea, chat with a few folks, try and have a poo and drop my gear for its road-transport to the finish. Wave 1 runners head off at 7am. I was in Wave 2 and scheduled to leave 5min after. Small talk about training and shoes filled up the time. I met a guy doing his 26th Six Foot Track and 233rd marathon. Impressive. The guy on the PA advised us to take it easy in Nellie's as it was "as wet as it has ever been." But conditions were looking good otherwise, and both the men's and women's record could be broken.
Wave 1 left bang-on time and Wave 2 moved into place. I positioned myself quite close to the front as I'd finished 113th in 2014 and I think Wave 1 is 100 runners. I wanted to avoid getting held up too much in Nellie's as it is all single file and it only takes one super-cautious runner to steal a couple of minutes from your time. As it turned out the trip down Nellie's was not too slow. It was extremely wet and slippery, but it is unlikely I'd have gone much quicker even if I'd been out there alone.
I don't know how I did the pre-race maths but I was hoping to get to Cox's River and the end of the mostly downhill first 15km in 1hr 15min, averaging 5min/km. Then it would be a matter of doing whatever I needed to keep my overall average under 6min. If I could do that then I'd get the 4hr 30min finish I was hoping for. There is no point looking at the watch for the first three or four km as they will be very slow, but as I got to 8, 9 and 10 my average was dropping. Getting close the river it was around 5:20 and I started to think I'd blown the whole race. But then I thought that any effort I didn't spend in the first 15k was energy available to me in the following 30. I felt good, was moving well and those around me looked like a bunch of decent runners, so who knew?
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| Nellie's Glen |
And then, with no warning and no hazard I remember I hit the ground. It was at around 13km. I went down pretty hard and shouted "I'm down!" as a warning to others and then "I'm up!" as I sort of bounced straight back to my feet. My initial reaction was - I hope my Garmin is OK, because I need to know my pace. The strap seemed a little loose, but it was still working. Phew. As for me, I had a deep scrape to my left palm, a cut to a finger, another graze on my right hand, it looked like I had a little blood coming from near my left knee and the left elbow was aching. So it seemed like I'd taken most of the impact on my left. I didn't stop to check myself out; legs were still working, and the elbow didn't hurt when I moved it, just ached. I sucked and spat and the blood coming from my hands to try and clean the cuts, figuring there was a river crossing in about 10min and that should help clean them out "properly." I got away with my tumble far better than the runner behind me, who dropped about 500m later, tumbling off the trail and clutching his knee. He didn't bounce up and a medic came up to attend to him. At the end I had my cuts cleaned up and learnt that someone else had broken their collarbone. So I was OK, and best of all - it didn't seem to dent my confidence.
Cox's River came and went at 15km, the water just ticking the underside of my scrotum and far shallower than I've experienced in previous years. The river-grit I collected in my shoes seemed fairly light and would be more exfoliant than hindrance. Some people clean out their shoes, I don't bother. It would take too long and besides, there are other creeks to cross later in the race.
And then the hills started.
The climb up the Mini Mini Saddle is about 5km and almost all uphill. There are bits that I simply walk - powerwalk. If my running pace would be not much quicker than my powerwalk then I figure I'll conserve energy for later. I once heard someone say Six Foot is all about running downhill and walking up them; wise words. I got chatting with a guy wearing a Berowra Bush Runners singlet. We sort of recognised each other from Beyond the Black Stump, the New Year's Day torture run. He said we were on 4:20 pace. Four twenty!? I said my goal was 4:30 and he chided me for not aiming higher. I told him of my legendary ability to die-in-the-arse on the last 10km. But no, we were on 4:20 pace and his next pace checkpoint was the top of the Pluviometer at 26km. If we hit that at 2hr 33min then we were on.
We chatted some more, sometimes he'd pull ahead of me, sometimes I'd pull out in front of him. We got to the Pluviometer at 2hr 35min. Outside 4:20 pace but well inside 4:30. And I was feeling...good. I was getting tired, but I was still running well. I felt quite strong through the Black Range, allowing myself to wonder if I was making up some time. I chatted with another runner who had done 4:24 in 2014 and he assured me I was on course to smash 4:30. This was very strange; I was...enjoying the Six Foot Track. And even stranger, this year I was having a crack at it, not simply grinding it out.
The Garmin beeped its "battery low" beep at me a little after 30km and again I worried I'd be without my pace on my wrist. I kept glancing at it over the next few km and it seemed to be doing OK.
At 35km and with 10km left I'd been running for 3hr 24min. So the maths was simple. I had around 65min to finish in sub-4:30. The legs were still OK, and a normal 10k would be easily do-able, but I knew I had a calf-smashing climb left and then the final quad-destroying 3km drop to Jenolan Caves. I was confident of a PB, confident of going under 4:30 but didn't know what else I had in me.
The calf-smasher came and went at around 38km. It's only about 500m, but is bloody steep and it hurts. The next 4km are pretty much rolling and nicely runnable. What surprised me this year is that I got to the final drop and my quads were not too bad. I have literally hobbled this final section in the past, but this year I managed to run it. I was neither mountain goat or a gazelle, but I was running. The final paved zig-zags down to Cave's House came up and I shouted at a couple of guys in front, goading them into fast finishes of their own; "don't let me beat you!" But they moved to the side to let me pass and I picked up a couple of extra spots. I rounded the final hairpin and sprinted over the line, 4:26:something on the clock and 4:21 on my still-alive Garmin.
I collected my medal and a hug from the guy I'd been running with after the river; he had said the finish line would be waiting with arms outstretched, ready to hug me and he was good to his word. He had run around 4:18 and finished, I think, 3rd in his age group. I grabbed some fruit and a couple of drinks and toddled off to collect my bag and get on with the post-race business of letting bits of my body shutdown. I went to the first-aid tent to have my scrapes cleaned up, got changed and waited for the bus, chatting with a few folks along the way. I was sorely tempted by a bottle of the local craft beer, but with a couple of hours of driving home to come I resisted.
Logistics to finish; the bus back to Katoomba, collect the car and drive home, check the website to see I'd finished 87th (my first top 100 finish) in an official time of 4:21:28, a 9min 3sec PB. I was pretty chuffed with that. The rest of Saturday was handled fairly well. I didn't feel like death warmed up, something I put down to the tail end of the endorphines. Of course Sunday has been a bit of a struggle; tired and walking downstairs with a gait that suggests I have a courgette up my bum, but I should be good again byWednesday.
Took it for a spin this morning, up to the new office and back for a total of 38.5kn that reminded me that I have leg muscles that I don't use, that Pittwater Road is a lumpy bastard of a thing and that road bikes punish the un-trained arse.
