I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, what a majestic beast!
UTA is massive! It sits on the race calendar of literally thousands of trail runners every year, I even heard a rumour this weekend that it is the second largest trail event in the world (second to UTMB)?!
I’m no stranger to this event, or these trails, having run the 50 twice (one altered course in 2017 and the original course in 2018), and the hundred in 2019. I’ve also run the ‘new’ 22, have been out to support and crew and have trained on many sections of the course many times. I love the Blue Mountains and signed up maybe slightly too quickly when entries opened last year.
I was really happy with my training block, lots of stairs, lots of hills, lots of kilometres. I managed to fit in the juggle of kids, weekend sports, work and letting Matt train for the 50. Life was busy but we got it done. My lead in race of AAA in March was a great day out. I placed 4th female and 1st in my age category which I was over the moon with. I ran consistent and hiked strong when I needed to. I had something in the tank for the last 7ks of downhill and fuelled well.
My goal for this race was Sub16. A year or two ago, Ironman announced they were changing the cutoff for a silver buckle for women, to under16 hours (keeping under 14 hours for men), meaning I only had to cut 10 minutes from my previous time. Doable. With my friend and athlete I coach, Jo as my crew, we planned for F1 style pit stops, my race plan was simple, do not dick about. Don’t waste a second. Leave everything out there.
Jo and I headed up to the mountains on Thursday afternoon to get ourselves sorted and spend Friday cheering the 22k runners. I love the start line of a race. So much excitement, so many nerves, so much unknown! After spending some time with Dave King and Glassy, sending off waves of runners down into Jamieson Valley, Jo and I grabbed breakfast, did some aid station prep until it was time to get cheer on at the finish line.
I will admit, hearing the runners talk about the last 4km some fairly descriptive language was mildly disconcerting, but my thoughts were quietened celebrating the victory of friends old and new crossing that finish line and celebrating their victories.
Later that afternoon, Ironman facilitated a Women in Trail talk. It was a great starting point conversation to bring to light some of the issues women face and the challenges need to encourage increased female participation in longer distances.
Friday night was usual onset of nervous excitement, final preparations, eating all the food, chatting and an early night. I slept pretty well, probably better than I normally would the night before a big run. We were up early to get to the start line for the Welcome to Country and Wave 1. Everyone moved around the house in their own pre-race morning rituals, food, coffee, toilet, body glide, all the glamorous things!
Heading out into the dark pre-dawn morning we knew it would be cold, but it really does hit you. A fresh southerly had swept through overnight, taking any warmth the sun might bring for the day. The next 30 or so minutes flies by in a bit of a blur, seeing Sarah and Jenny start with Ben and Izzy in Wave 2, seeing Mel and Kylie who were out to run the 50 in Wave 5 with Matt. Suddenly I’m handing Jo my jacket and heading off into the corrals for my start.
Unfortunately, the races I had done prior to this were not UTMB Indexed races (i.e. they aren’t recognised in a way that counts towards a higher start group), so I was in Wave 4. Originally, I wasn’t worried about this as the altered course took out Landslide and Golden Stairs, so I didn’t think we would encounter any bottle necks. Boy was I wrong.
At the start line, I felt calm, excited and ready. Having Matt and Jo there as my hype people was awesome, those first few steps over the start line was a relief, it was finally time. I ran past Devon (from Ironman) and Michelle P a few hundred metres up the road. I had a short rush of jelly legs with a brief bout of nerves, but then we hit that infamous uphill out of Scenic world and it brought me back to the task at hand.
I love seeing the rush of eager runners leave Katoomba, the streets lined with supporters, everyone cheering for the hoards of colourful, gear laden runners as we shuffle up hill, trying not to look slightly shocked at how hard that hill feels, knowing full well what lays ahead of us.
The turn onto Narrowneck brought the sweet relief of downhill and fire trail. This would be our footing for the next 15 or so kilometres. Undulating, climbing, a slow dispersal of runners as we all set in to our rhythm. Narrowneck is a stunning trail, expansive views either side, Megalong Valley on your right, Jaimeson Valley on your left. I ran easy all the way to the end of the trail, not buying into anyone else’s pace, I was quiet and thoughtful. Considering the unknown that was ahead of me, the distance, the time, it was all blank pages waiting to be written.
Then came the queue. In most years, Tarros Ladders and Duncan’s Pass is an option for runners to get down into the valley. This year though, there were no ladders, so everyone had to take the scrambly, technical, narrow pass. I came to a standstill about 100m before it, and we stood there, and waited. A guy behind me tried to push pass, announcing if we were all waiting for the ladders, he would skip past us and use the pass. A few of us politely informed him that there were no ladders this year, we were all waiting for the same thing, so just take a break and have a snack. Never to early to start eating in an ultra!
I could feel his energy, his restlessness and frustration, he so badly wanted to push past us anyway, but we were all in the same boat, no one was letting him. Yes, I was equally as frustrated, I’m sure everyone was, but there’s no point in wasting that valuable energy on something you have no control over. Every climb down through narrow rocky gaps or super narrow, muddy single trail, he was right behind me, bullying me to go faster. I was a horrible feeling, especially on a section so technical, I tried to not let him get to me as I knew if I let him steal my focus, I would slip and fall. I just tried to focus on where I was putting my feet. It was cold up there, that was more my concern at that point. The wind felt icy and I started to shiver. I considered putting on my rain jacket but I knew I would be moving eventually.
When we finally hit the bottom, it’s still not an easy trail to run. It’s rocky, technical and narrow. Eventually Mr CrankyPants behind me pushed past (I would eventually catch him though 😉 ) and I was grateful he was gone and I wasn’t being tailgated anymore.
The first aid station was about 16km in. I breezed through as I had everything I needed. I checked my watch and was astounded I was already almost 2.5hours in! I had lost the best part of an hour on Duncan’s Pass! I needed to make up some time! Luckily the majority of the first half (save for IronPot and Nellies) is very runnable, undulating fire trail. I set my mind to run, however slowly I needed to, 90% of the next 40km. Anything that I potentially could run, I would. My poles came out somewhere between 20 - 30km and they stayed in my hands for the rest of the race. The 24km check point came and went, which took us up ti IronPot Ridge,
The climb to the ridge is steep and a bit more steep, with a little extra steep on top just for good measure. Running across the Ridge is beautiful, the indigenous men and women who climb up there to play for us is just the best experience and a moment that leaves you with an incredible feeling of connection. I am so grateful they make the effort and spend so long up there for us. Massive thanks to Dave King and his community!
Down the other side of IronPot is just as steep, and longer than the way up. I used my poles to strike a balance between keeping a decent pace and staying upright, which seemed to work! The next section saw us onto a 9km loop that made up for the loss of Landslide and Golden Stairs. The first half is runnable undulating fire trail (I feel like I’ve said that a lot so far… don’t worry, it changes) and then you get spat out onto six foot track, somewhere between Cox’s River and Megalong Road. Running this ‘backwards’ (i.e. the opposite direct to the way you run in Six Foot) is something I’ve only done on Megalong Mega training runs. It took me a hot minute to realise where I was and what I was doing.
Crossing over Megalong Road and seeing Hayley at the water point was a great buzz and spurred me on into the shadow of Nellies Glen. The fire trail leads you slowly up towards the escarpment that we would eventually climb up to reach the civilisation of Katoomba once more. I remember thinking I was that the longer this trail went on, the less there was of Nellies, so I happily plodded my way until things got narrower, steeper and darker: Welcome, to Nellies Glen.
A couple of runners behind me latched on ‘The Pain Train’ and we pushed and pulled each other up every rock, stair and tree root. Sections felt like a mini waterfall after the rain of the last couple of weeks, so watching your footing was a necessity. Oh and the random photographer sat half way up, yup, sure, I feel like smiling now… cheers buddy!
My least favourite section of the whole race, or maybe joint least favourite, is from the top of Nellies to the road. A random couple of kms of trail that just keep going, single track, uneven and annoying! But eventually it does end, and there is flat tarmac, yay… and people, YAY! Another km or so and I find myself inside Katoomba Aquatic Centre 56km in, over half way, seeing Jo The Crew Chief for the first time! It was almost overwhelming to see the huge numbers of people after so many hours in quiet solitude.
F1 Baby! No time to f*ck spiders, I emptied my pockets, swapped my bottles with pre-filled new ones and loaded up with new fuel. As we pit-stopped I got the low down from Jo on how everyone else was…
Matt had finished in 7.5hrs, amazing! So proud!
Ben had screwed his knee and is considering dropped, NO!
Sarah is killing it and is 9th female, OMG YES!
Issy is flying, No Doubt!
A hug from Jo and I was out of there. This next section is alternate course, a brief trail section which was muddy and slippery, and then a chunk road to replace a section of the stairs. Eventually we dropped back onto the trail for the last handful of kms to The Fairmont. It really started to feel cold again, up high, exposed on the escarpment. I considered putting my jacket on again here, but didn’t want to stop, so pushed on. I had been working off a gel every 10km with Pure Nutrition, pineapple flavour, in my flasks. Even at 60km in, everything was going down well, I had a honey sandwich and a few other little nibbles as I ran, and my stomach was feeling good.
Coming into the Fairmont, the crowds were mental! The cheers and smiles were exactly what I needed. Jo and I had another perfect pit stop, she told me to put my head torch on and I also put on my rain jacket for warmth. I wanted to save my thermal for QVH. I told her I wasn't sure if I could still make Sub16 but that I was going to give it everything I had. The next section would be tough, I knew what it had in store, and although I was in a good head space, I knew it take everything to stay strong and keep pushing.
Running out the back of Fairmont I had Sarah B, Jo and Emma yelling and cheering for me, which was amazing! Thank you ladies it made me feel like a rock star! I knew this next section was going to be an absolute pain. These were the stairs that you forget about and appear as if from nowhere. It’s also now cold and dark. My headtorch has become my field of vision. As night encroaches, my world get smaller, the distractions disappear and I choose to welcome the small circle of light that will eventually lead me home.
These are my slowest sections, I’m not a fast climber so I know these parts of the races will be ones where I lose time, which is fine, I know where my strengths are. These sections are just ones I need to survive! Massive stair climbs that just bleed me of all my energy and just don’t end. Its not a long section, but for me, this is up there with Nellies.
Getting to the road at Kings Tableland was a relief, short lived as we stay on the trail rather than hit the road section to QVH. It is narrow, washed out and in pretty crap condition. This final slog to QVH was a bit of survival mode: The Mission: Don’t Fucking Roll Your Ankle.
Appearing into the buzz and lights of Queen Vic was slightly overwhelming with a healthy dose of Fuck Yeah and a sprinkle of trepidation knowing what the final 22km had in stall. Seeing Jo and Rod was epic, so much joy hearing their voices and have them hype me up for the last push. Mindset is so ridiculously important in the later stages of an ultra. Keeping the aid station to another text book Formula One pit stop was perfect, no time to over think, just get your shit and get out. Rod loaded me up with whatever calories I had left (sorry Rod, I don’t think I touched them!) And Jo gave me a quick update on the others… Roxy was out due to suspected hypothermia, Ben and Issy were still in and I wasn’t far behind them.
Next stop, Kedumba.
The key to Kedumba and Jamieson valley is to use the first 2-3kms as you leave the aid station of flattish fire trail to get some calories in and let them go down before you start dropping down in to the valley. With 8km of downhill, runnable fire trail, the last thing you want is food or liquid sloshing around in your stomach. I had a gel and I think a sandwich, with some walk breaks to help it go down, and as the trail started to drop away under me, I hit the 80s/90s/00s Spotify playlist, cranked the volume and picked up the pace.
Were the legs tired; yes. Did I feel like I was flying; yes. Did I crack a 6min/km; nope.
‘Flying’ is a relative term with 80kms in your legs. But a 7min/km is better than nothing!
I started to pass people consistently. I sang, fist bumped the air and bobble head danced my way past runner after runner. I absorbed myself in the party in my head and focused completely on the music. Cindy Lauper, Backstreet Boys, George Michael… whatever got me to the finish.
Anything that could be run, I ran. My legs felt good and I was going to push the whole way home. The darkness removes all visual clues of where you are, but I know that trail well. Through two small creeks, through the final emergency water station, no stopping. 10kms to go.
And now, we climb.
Use the poles. Sing. Use the beat.
Despite my shorter than average legs, and therefore shorter stride, I continued to catch runners ahead of me and pass them on the big climb out of Kedumba and back into Leura Forest. I have no idea if my one woman karaoke session attracted attention or received accolades, I like to think people were impressed with my ability to sing and hike simultaneously!
Finally, the big rock. The rock that symbolises the end of Kedumba. Into Leura forest we go, and the final 5kms. This is when things got real.
I love seeing the 95km sign. It’s like a beacon calling me home. It’s an image I keep in my mind for the long hard training runs, reminding me how strong we can be. The run back through Leura forest I felt I was still moving well, still running. I checked my watch. I tried to run Running Math. I could still make Sub 16. I still had it. Just PUSH.
Looking at my final results, between QVH and the finish I gained just under 100 places, so I'm pretty happy with that.
Then, Giants Stairway. 1403 of them.
Fuck. You.
Those stairs, I have no words. I’ve gone up them once before in a training run, but it was during the day and I got stuck behind tourists. This time, it was just me. Willing myself to keep grinding, one stair at a time. They are SO steep, they just don’t end, there is no reprieve of a runnable 10m, nothing. Just one flight after another.
To the amazing volunteer who stood at the top and called us home, thank you for putting a smile on my face. And then we had to run again. 97km. COME ON!
Run through Echo Point and on to Prince Henry Cliff Walk. Runnable, but now I could feel my legs. Seizing up just slightly. The stairs down were starting to get hard, my quads were done. I was finally losing, I wouldn’t make it in under 16 hours. Just before the picnic ground, I watched my watch tick over from 15:59:59 to 16:00:00. It was a sad moment. I was so close. Giants just sucked my last few drops of Oomph. My thoughts turned to, lets just get this shit done. You’re not walking it in.
I’m not entirely sure what the Ops Team at Ironman were thinking when they came up with the idea of sending us back DOWN into Leura forest, only to come back UP the last third of Furber Steps, but someone needs a psych evaluation. It just didn’t end!! Anoth 297 steps. I could feel my stomach go as my body searched fruitlessly for a gram of energy, somewhere. The dry wretching began. I was so close. I did everything but crawl on my hands and knees to the top, and finally hit the board walk. I stopped just before for one final dry heave and turned my sights to the finish line.
200m, 100m, 50m, I could hear Matt and Jo… I was done. 16hrs 16mins.
Happy and Sad: Duality.
Stopping was then my undoing as my legs went into immediate retirement and my stomach let its contents inform my brain they were on a return journey so, make plans. I’ve become pretty self sufficient at this moments so I asked the medics for a sick bag and found a lovely looking chair to perch on.
After a bit of time there, in the recovery tent and being hunted by a nurse with a wheel chair, we headed home. Very grateful to Sarah G, Jo and Matt for being there, and helping me escape, Bronze Buckle in hand.
I managed one final spectacular spew in the garden of our AirBnb, reminiscent of student days at uni, and finally got inside, showered and warm. Sarah B, Jo and Emma showed me the sign they made that I never actually got to see because I was 'too fast' in the aid stations! Thank you ladies, it now sits proudly on the wall in my laundry!! Disco Chickens for the win!
And the rest, as they say, is history. A horrendous nights sleep, waking up at 4am feeling utterly empty and raiding the fridge for food and eating a yoghurt in bed. I repeated that process at 6am.
Most overwhelmingly, I feel so grateful that I get to run these kinds of events. That I have a body that allows me to, that I have the relatively disposable income to be able to afford to do them, that I have the support of enough people around me to get me to the start line, who want to see me succeed, who love me. It’s easy to forget or dismiss these things sometimes I feel. Ironman did an amazing job, and without events organisations like them, we don’t get to do this stuff, so thank you Ironman!!
The supporters who were out on course were just next level. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that number of people out on course cheering us on. It matters, it helps.
Jo, you were extraordinary. I couldn’t have asked for a better hype girl, Crew Chief and all round F1 Super Star. Everything was perfect. 12 minutes total ‘rest time’ in aid stations, that utterly impressive.
To everyone who followed, checked in before, during and after, it was overwhelming to have to many people in my corner. You are all legendary humans and it meant the world. Thank you.
So that 16 minutes. Disappointed? Yes, slightly, but only slightly. I fought so hard to make up that time I lost on Duncan’s Pass, and I almost did it. I am proud of how I fought, how I ran. I stayed focussed, I ran smart. In the end, it’s only a number, its only running. I doesn’t take away from my day. Experience is everything, and boy, did I have an experience.
In my heart, I have that Silver Buckle.
Official Photos by Sportograf
Gear:
Shoes: Hoka Speedgoatds
Socks: Injini Women's Specific Trail
Shorts: Lululemon Align
Vest: Salomon Women's Specific Advance Skin 12
Poles: Black Diamond
Hat: Sally Mcrae Merch
Watch: Coros Vertix 2
Headphones: OpenRun Pro by Shokz
Headtorch: Petzel Swift RL
Rain Jacket: Salomon Lightning Womens Waterproof Jacket
Gloves: Le Bent
Arm Warmers: No idea.
Sunnies: Sungods (unworn on race day)
Blisters: Runners Own.
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