Chris Horwood
Age 54Sport Played Running - Ultramarathons
Years Played 10 years
Tell us about yourself
54 yrs old, married 33yrs, two children, two grandchildren, live at Grose Wold in the Hawkesbury region. Running on and off since school, but just the occasional 10km fun run until 1999 when I stepped up to the half marathon distance. First marathon was in 2000 [the Host City Marathon] finishing in 4:16:39, which was a disaster - had little idea of correct training and preparation! Decided to do one more marathon to "do it right" and ran the Cities Marathon [the old course] in 2000 finishing in 3:53:07 and was hooked! Since then I've progressively improved my marathon pb down to 3:10:57 [last year at Cities over the new course along the M7] running events all over the country from Jindabyne to Alice Springs.Discovered the joy of trail and off-road running in 2003 when I competed in the Mt. Wilson to Bilpin Bush Run and have since run this and other events many times, including the Brindabella Classic, Woodford to Glenbrook and Six Foot Track.
Moved up to ultra-marathon distances in 2003 when I did the 50k option at the Canberra Marathon and then onto Comrades [90km's] in South Africa in 2004 [9:47:54]. Moved up to "multi-day" in 2005 when I dreamed up an idea for a run from Penrith to Bredbo [just north of Cooma, a place I've been visiting for about 36yrs] running 350km's over 7 days, solo and unsupported carrying bare necessities in a Camelbak and staying at motels/hotels along the way. I've attached a writeup I did on that run which was published in AURA's "Ultramag" which I thought might be of interest [some "bedtime reading!"]. Followed that one up in 2006 by running 450km's over 7 days from Alice Springs to Uluru and now I’m planning to run the 520km Birdsville Track in July 2010.
I'm going to run my first official 12hr event at Caboolture on 1 Aug and will be trying to get as close to 100km's in that time as possible. The 12hr is a part of the National 48hr Champ's and the Qld 24hr Champ's and starts at 9pm and being a shift worker, running through the night suits me down to the ground as I love running after dark and in the cold weather. The tights will get a good test during that one, I reckon!
What are you hoping to achieve
Future ambitions? Run Six Foot Track three more times with my running buddy, Janelle, to get our "six-finish belt buckle" - stuffed if we know what we'll do with a belt buckle, but just want some form of "acknowledgement" of the fact that we were idiot enough to actually pay for the right to run this killer event 6 times! As well as that, just keep pushing the boundaries for as long as the legs continue to hold me upright and see where it all ends..... [Would love to have a crack at the Antarctic Marathon, but will need to save my pennies for a while for that one!]My Blog
21/9/09
We had a great time up at the Gold Coast where Carla and her three fellow Hawkesbury Tri Club members all did really well, particularly Carla who "top 10'd" by finishing 9th in the 50-54 female category with a time of 1:19:54 and she was absolutely stoked!
Have attached a couple of pic's, the first one of Carla just after she finished [if ever a "picture spoke a thousand words"....!] and the next of the four HTC members together after their race. I even got in a few runs myself up there too [so nice to run in such different environs for a change] and have attached a couple of pic's I took on a pre-dawn trot when I toted the camera in my water bottle bum bag, hoping to capture some nice images of "sunrise over sea" [as John Butler so nicely put it!] so 'sea' what you think....
3/9/09
Just wanted to let you know that I went up to Caboolture with my wife a few weeks ago where I ran my first [official] 12hr race and managed to grind out 101km's in that time, so was very happy with that! Have attached a bit of a writeup I did on it for our club newsletter, which I thought you might like to have a look at? Two Saturday's ago I ran the Mt. Wilson to Bilpin Bush Race [the "Willy to Billy"] which is my fave off-road race. This was the 5th time I've run this excellent 35k event and I bettered my pb [originally set back in 2003 when I 1st ran it] by 4 min's, finishing in 3H:07M. Getting older and going faster - go figure!?! My wife and I will be heading off to the Gold Coast next Tue where she'll be competing in the World Triathlon Championships, representing Oz in her age division over the sprint distance, so we're both very much looking forward to that one!
Caboolture 12hr Aug 2009
Carla and I recently drove up to Caboolture so I could compete in my first 12hr race. Held at the Caboolture Historical Village, it was a part of the National 48hr Champ’s, the Qld 24hr Champ’s and in conjunction with the 12hr, there were also 6hr and 3hr options. Event start times were staggered so that they would all finish together at 9am Sunday 2nd Aug.
Taking two days to drive up and overnighting at Tenterfield, we arrived at Caboolture on Friday and checked into our motel. For some reason we’d envisaged Caboolture as being a “Kurrajong-like” village, so were quite surprised to discover that it’s more like Parramatta – grid locked with traffic during peak hour and adjacent to a multi-laned highway! We unloaded the wagon and drove out to the Historical Village to link up with the race organiser and check things out. The 500m track has a ‘decomposed granite’ surface and runs through the centre of the village, which is full of historical buildings and relics from around the area. Seven entrants in the 48hr event were circulating and all looked fairly fresh after only about 6hrs running. Carla hadn’t realised that there was also a 3hr option, so decided to have a crack at that after getting the OK from the race director. After sussing out where we’d park, set up my aid station table and the like, we headed back to the motel.
Saturday was spent buying and preparing food items for the race and organising gear, while Carla drove down to the Caboolture Aquatic Centre [man oh man, doesn’t that place make Oasis look sick by comparison – it’s awesome!!] to get in a few k’s in the pool, as it was important for her to keep up her training for the upcoming World Tri Champ’s while we were away. We had a good old laugh when we laid out all the stuff, as the quantity and variety of food items was enough to get me through a 7 day ultra! Still, a 12hr event is different to a marathon where some gels and sports drink will suffice, as there’s a need for a different mix of ‘fuels’ that will readily digest ‘on the run’ and give you a palatable alternative to all the sweet, syrupy goop. Vegemite/jam sandwiches on white bread, boiled eggs and tiny taters, little tubs of diced peaches, tins of spaghetti and creamed rice, cashews, bananas, potato chips, jelly snakes, plus the usual array of gels and bars – no lack of variety there!
I had a bit of a lay down in the arvo, just to shut the eyes for a while rather than sleep, before fuelling up on my fave pre-race meal; pizza [forget carb’s, gimme fat!] a ‘tried and tested’ formula on which I’ve run many a new pb! We got to the village around 7pm, set up the table, chairs and the back of the wagon [mattress, pillow and doona so Carla could have a snooze during the night] attended to the pre-race ablutions and walked a lap of the track to psyche up.
The 48hr guys were now looking considerably more fatigued than they did the day before [oh, really?!] and had been joined by ten 24hr starters at 9am that morning. The 12hr would start at 9pm, so for me, it would be just like doing a 12hr night shift. In conjunction with a predicted overnight low of around 3 or 4 deg’s, I was right in my element! Every competitor was allocated a lap counter out of a pool of volunteers from local running clubs, who did ‘shifts’ of various hours, and with no timing chips, it was important to check that your lap counter acknowledged you each time you passed them. I take my hat off to these guys as it’s got to be a mind numbing job, counting 1…..2…..3….particularly during the wee-small hours, but typical of all volunteers upon whom competitors so rely to enable them to pursue their passion, they were always so wonderfully cheery and supportive.
My biggest concerns prior to the event were whether I had a sufficient ‘base’ of km’s in the legs to crack the magic 100k’s, plus a ‘rub’ issue with my right little toe from the Woodford to Glenbrook a month prior. The toe issue resulted from elasticised shoe laces letting my toes slip forward and hammer the toe box area of my runners on the steep downhill sections, causing ‘wrap around blistering’ and eventual loss of the toenail. Having to keep the ‘high km’ training going in the lead up to Caboolture meant that I kept aggravating it, so effective taping and an old, well bedded-in pair of runners would hopefully cover that.
The ‘base’ concern arose from a realisation that while I’d [unofficially] run 100km’s a few years earlier during a local “Relay for Life” event, it was done at a time when I’d just peaked my training for a 450km Alice Springs to Uluru run, by one week earlier running 50km’s per day over 5 consecutive days and with monthly total distances up around 500km’s. Having suffered a broken right fibula last July and the recovery taking a major toll on my base over several ensuing months when I couldn’t run at all, I was going into Caboolture with monthly totals around only 250k’s, so the thinking would be to just “suck it and see” and be happy with whatever resulted, knowing that I’d done the best I could under the circumstances. “She’ll be right!”…
9pm finally arrived as 7 of us toed the line for the 12hr race start. Actually, calling events of this nature ‘races’ is something of a misnomer, as while there’s always a mild element of competition at play, ultimately it’s yourself against whom you’re competing. The training’s important for getting yourself in as good a state as you can physically, but ultra events [running, Ironman, whatever…] are mainly won or lost in the mind. You can have two athletes of similar physical ability, but it’s the one who’s mentally tougher who will ultimately prevail.
9pm and at last, off we went and all at different paces. One of the things I’d most looked forward to with this event was the opportunity to run with some of the best ultra-distance runners in the country: Nationally and internationally rated runners like Ron Schwebel, Martin Fryer and Tim Cochrane about whom I’ve read so much in “Ultramag” and on the Coolrunning website forums, so it would be an education to watch how runners of this calibre went about executing such an event. My goal was to stick as close as possible to 6min’s per km for the first 50k’s and then see what happened later on, so the first few laps involved finding the desired rhythm and ‘bedding in’ to a pace which would become so ‘automatic’ that it was like mentally switching to cruise control. Martin Fryer [world rated runner over 48hr’s] in the first few hours was doing roughly 24 X 500m laps to my 18 and a lady who I didn’t realise at the time was also an Aussie 100km representative was lapping me about every 3 & ½ laps. Not only was she built like an incense stick, but she also smelled like one too, so that was an interesting distraction each time she ‘wafted’ past me!
Round and round we went, reversing direction on the hour [thank heavens for a change of scenery!]. Actually, running round the old village was a heap more interesting than circulating around an athletics track, as there was so much to see looking into the buildings and barns and what they contained. Carla rugged up against the cold and was doing an admirable job as my pit crew manager as music belted out of two different sound systems, one at the finish line and the other over on the ‘dark side’ of the course. Funny thing was that both were tuned to different radio stations, but the finish line one was playing the equivalent to “Jukebox Saturday Night” with Beatles, Stones and Acca Dacca keeping us all up-tempo when we needed to smile back at our lap counters, while the more dulcet tones [Simon and Garfunkle et al] were at times ‘challenging’ on the ‘sleepy’ side of the course!
Food experimentation went well, the tiny taters, boiled eggs and bananas going down an absolute treat. I was spun out to learn that one of the 48hr runners [Japanese, no crew in support] was eating only rice, and here’s me with a bloody smorgasbord that would have fed half the field! 48 and 24hr runners would occasionally disappear for a power-nap break of varying lengths, but I never saw the Japanese guy lay down once during the whole time I was circulating! Struth, what was in that rice??
Chatting with other runners with whom you fell into a rhythm on occasions was fascinating, learning all about their running backgrounds etc. Carla got a bit weary [dizzy?] about 1am from watching me go around in circles, so topped up all my bottles before conking out. Not long after, the ‘incense stick’ started walking as a patella problem and lower back pain overran her, but in what was a very inspiring effort, so refused to give up and walked the last 7 hours at a pace that was still good enough [in combination with the substantial laps she’d already run] to do 105km’s by the 12hr cut off – bloody amazing!
I pulled over once prior to Carla conking and once more around 3am to re-tape, but was feeling really good when I saw her emerge from the ‘metal tent’ around 4’ish, saying to her that I was beginning to feel that I might actually crack it for the 100k’s. She lay back down again for another hour, but during that time, heaven slowly turned to hell. When she got up, I felt like the 100k mark was fast slipping away as muscle fatigue and aches began to progressively take their toll. Words of advice and encouragement, a cup of coffee so strong that I swear a bloody teaspoon would have stood up in it, a couple of Panadol Rapids and she had me firing again! The lap count lifted, more boiled googies, tiny taters and a banana hit the spot and I was again on a mission! Carla got into her running gear and hit the track at 6am, being the only starter in the 3hr event, so a category, gender and overall win was guaranteed! Soon after, something I’d been looking forward to since about 2am eventuated as the sun rose, and just like a night shift, you think, “bloody ripper, it’s almost over!…”
I was going great guns until around 8am when the wheels felt like they were slowly starting to fall off again. “Stuff it!” I thought, “It’s not going to beat me” so I grabbed a can of Coke out of the esky and 2 more Panadol, pouring the Coke into my water bottle to shake all the fizz out of it before scoffing it down. 5 min’s later and I was back on top of it again and crossed the 100km mark with 20 min’s to spare. Carla stopped briefly to get a couple of pic’s before continuing at an increasingly faster pace. I walked for a lap, ran 1 more to achieve my 101km’s and said to my lap counter, “Thank you SO much, but THAT’S IT!!” and grabbed the camera to get some shots of Carla.
Just prior to the finish siren, all runners still on the course get handed a piece of timber with their name on it. When the siren sounds, you drop it onto the ground to mark your actual stop point, so the extra distance can be measured up and counted into your overall tally. With the time left, Carla could see that it would be touch and go as to whether she’d get in another full lap, so took off like a woman possessed, only to miss the finish line [and one more complete lap] by a matter of metres, but still grinding out a very respectable 28km’s which was a great effort given that all her training for World’s is geared around a ‘sprint’ distance tri, plus she’s not run this far in a good few years! Great effort darlin!
Just to keep things in perspective, the 48hr winner ground out 310km’s while the 24hr winner ran 201! I was exceptionally pleased with my result and it was such a thrill to be a part of an event in which I was able to rub shoulders with some of the finest ultra distance runners this country has produced, to see first hand just how amazing some of these people really are – “I tilt’s me lid!”
In closing, I want to acknowledge the critical role Carla played in helping me achieve another long-held ambition, as I genuinely could not have done it without her support, so a sincere thank you to her! My sincere thanks also go to all those other special friends whose encouragement and well-wishes make you realise that when you do an event such as this, you’re doing it as much ‘for and with’ them as you are for yourself!
Cheers
Chris.
6/7/09
I ran the Woodford to Glenbrook recently and knocked 17min's off my finish time when I last ran it 2 years ago [2H:5M in 2007, 1H:48M this year] which was quite surprising as I've not done any real speed work to speak of, so it's obviously come off the back of all the hilly trail work and the long road runs [up to 60km's now] in the leadup to the 12hr race at Caboolture in 4 weeks. Having worn my tights after several runs, I thought I'd experiment with not doing so after the W2G as my legs felt really good straight after the race, but brother, when I got up the next morning, my legs were aching and did so for the next 48 hours, so I think we can say that experiment proved a point! Off to work......
18/5/09
The Bredbo Bash 2005
“Running The Lines”
The Dream:
I ran my first marathon in 1999, being unable to resist the opportunity to run over the same course which would be used for the Sydney 2000 Olympics and while the result was a bit of a shocker due to my lack of experience, I was well and truely bitten by the distance running bug. Since that time I’ve built on the base developed from each previous event to progressively run faster, further, or more demanding events and this culminated in me celebrating my 50th birthday by running the 2004 Comrades 90km Ultra Marathon in South Africa.
Looking for the next challenge, I was inspired by the “Marathon Des Sables” which is a six day, 250 km race through the Sahara Desert in Morocco where competitors carry all their needs in a backpack, however the costs involved in getting there and competing were prohibitive, particularly given that my wife and I had been married for 30 years in 2005 and we wanted to do something special together to celebrate.
I stumbled across the little town of Bredbo [34 km’s north of Cooma, NSW] over 33 years ago and have been most fortunate to form some wonderful friendships there. Most know of my passion for distance running and while I’d occasionally and vaguely toyed with the idea of running the 350 km’s down there from where I live [near Penrith] I’d dismissed it thinking, “No way you could do that mate!” That all changed earlier this year when I travelled to Bredbo for a friend’s funeral and over a beer at his wake in the local pub, an old wag cheekily quipped, “I suppose you ran here this time, did ya?” While smiling and shaking my head, I started to think, “Well why not!” and despite the fact that I’d never run a multi-day event before and the seeming impossibility of the task, set the goal convinced that if I remained focussed on it’s achievement, I’d ultimately find a way of realizing it.
Training and Preparation:
I ran the Canberra Marathon last March and joined AURA [the Australian Ultra Runners Association] after seeing their stand at the Expo and discovering that one of the NSW representatives was Paul Every, arguably one of the finest ultra runners this country has produced. I contacted Paul to run the “Bredbo Bash” concept past him and to draw on his wealth of knowledge gained through running from Perth to Sydney and other similar, amazing feats and the advice he offered was to become the foundation upon which I’d base my training and preparation.
Over the following five or six months I spent some 180 hours on the road covering a total of 1800 km’s, culminating in my running five marathons [42 km’s] in five days. My intention was to run the 350 km’s over seven days, solo and unsupported using a Camelbak “Blowfish” backpack which had a 3 litre bladder and enough compartment space for all the basic gear I’d require.
Staying at motels and pubs along the way would eliminate the need to carry bulky items such as a tent, sleeping gear, towels and the like, the objective being to cut down as much as possible on weight and bulk. Taking only enough of the sports drink powder base I use, I’d buy all my other food needs along the way. Much to the amazement [disgust?] of several friends, I wouldn’t even take a mobile phone as I saw that as somewhat detracting from the adventure, choosing instead to take public phone cards which I’d use to contact my wife [Carla] and a couple of others at the end of each day to report progress.
Early in the planning phase I drove the route to investigate distances between possible accommodation, food and water replenishment points, the objective being to try and keep the daily run distances as ‘uniform’ as possible [don’t want to do 20 km’s one day and 100 the next, if avoidable]. While the distance averaged out at 50 km’s a day, some days would be longer while others shorter.
Overnight stops and daily kilometres would be: Narellan [36k], Mittagong [61k], Marulan [63k], Collector [66k], Canberra [43k], Michelago [47k] and Bredbo [29k]. I’d run from Penrith along The Northern Road to Narellan and then straight down the Hume Highway to just after Goulburn where I’d pick up the Federal Highway to Canberra and finally down the Monaro Highway to Bredbo.
Over the month before the event, I gradually refined what I’d take by asking myself the question,
“do I really need this, or just want it?” followed by, “Is there a lighter/ less bulky alternative?” Soap and towels would be at the motels, but what about other toiletries? Even the smallest tube of toothpaste was too big, so I squirted dollops into two tiny press-seal plastic bags. A motel mini-bottle of shampoo held enough for 3 or 4 days use and would cover stays at pubs where none was provided.
Everything was contained in press-seal bags of various sizes to guard against getting wet, while the sports drink powder was ‘triple wrapped” to guard against abrasion [don’t want that breaking free and turning the rest of your gear to green glug!]
I had one backup pair of shorts, shirt, socks and would hand wash what I was wearing each day if a hair dryer or air-conditioner was available at my stop over and if not, I’d just go stinky the next day [the beauty of running alone!] I also had a shower proof jacket and gloves for if it turned cold.
The Run:
Finally the big day arrived, Sunday 16th October. My wife drove me to Penrith where some friends had gathered for a surprise farewell and after photos, I set off with a handful of helium filled balloons they’d brought. Make a wish and release them.........A couple of km’s further on and two other friends also surprised me with a farewell greeting.
The weather was perfect [well for me, anyway] as it gradually got cooler and more overcast . Just before Bringelly my son-in-law pedalled up behind me for yet another surprise farewell! By the time I got to Bringelly, the rain was coming down steadily and gradually got heavier the closer I got to Narellan, so I walked into the motel reception a dripping mess! Didn’t need to wash anything out that night, just dried it in front of the A/C!
Day two started out with a steady downpour and my original plan was [for safety reasons] to run the whole way against the oncoming traffic. I got to the Hume Highway with it’s 110 KPH speed limit and that plan lasted about 5 km’s as each passing semi-trailer smashed me with a wall of wind and water, just like standing in front of a firey with his hose set on ‘mist’ and the pressure full-on! Switching to the opposite side and my initial concerns about not being able to see vehicles coming up behind me were soon offset by the vehicle wind now pushing me from behind and the realization that any vehicles passing into the 4 metre wide verge on which I was running would have to cross over the “audible lines” which defined the lane edge, so hugging the guard rails and listening for that tell-tale sound would give me, I figured, plenty of reaction time if someone happened to stray. As it turned out, motorists the whole way down were terrific and I didn’t have one incident with anyone acting the goat, in fact it was quite the opposite as on average I’d get a toot or wave about every 5 km’s, which had a real way of lifting your spirits while slogging up a hill, or toward the end of the day when I was starting to feel a bit withered.
The leg from Narellan to Mittagong proved to be the most difficult day of the entire run, but one from which I learned so much. The road climbs progressively up into the Southern Highlands and I’d made the mistake of paying too much attention to time and distance, thinking how far I still had to go [curse those damn distance signs – 200 km’s to here, 300 km’s to there!] and had gone at it a bit too hard. By the time I was 5 km’s from Mittagong, my quads were killing me due to the ‘mini-squats’ I seemed to be doing all day trying to compensate for the extra weight on my back [and how it was affecting my centre of gravity] and so mentally I was somewhat down and thinking, “Oh crap – five days to go and I’m feeling shagged already!”
I threw my gear into the motel room and walked into town to order some dinner and while waiting for that, gave Carla a ring which proved to be just the tonic I needed as she reminded me of all that had gone into putting this thing together and that my primary goal was to enjoy the experience, irrespective of how long it took.
She was right – I had enough time each day to walk the whole way if need be and still reach my next accommodation point and so with her help, I decided to set out tomorrow with a new plan: to view the road not as an enemy which needed to be conquered for time and distance, but as an opportunity for adventure.
Another thing I learned that day was how much of an appetite all the km’s gives you. Carla laughed when I told her what I’d ordered for dinner: 2 hamburgers with the lot, large chips, half a BBQ chook, two chicken and salad sandwiches and a fish cake - the only thing I didn’t eat that night was a leg off the chook which I’d saved to have as a snack the following day!
Day three dawned and off I set at an up-tempo version of the “Cliffy Shuffle”, a pattern which would be repeated each morning for the rest of the trip until I’d warmed up the legs and run out the stiffness over 5 or 6 km’s before dropping into a mental and physical ‘zone’ where I was running almost on auto pilot, a place where you’re running the lines in a state of consciousness where time enters an altered state of perception.
No more looking at distance markers or the watch, just running like a tourist and taking in the beauty and diversity of all that by which I was surrounded. While always sub-consciously listening for anything signalling potential danger, vehicle movements become a calming, almost reassuring background noise. I now began to understand how people who run multi-day ultra events such as the Sydney to Melbourne could actually accomplish such remarkable feats.
An incident free run down to the Marulan pub and pulled up so much better, both mentally and physically, so after the best shower in the world, rang Carla to share my excitement as to how good I was feeling. Pub-stay type accommodation is so much more basic than motels, but
the bed was very comfortable and that’s the most important thing. No telly or radio in the rooms,
but no end of entertainment available around the bar, if that’s your inclination!
Daily starts seemed to happen around 5:30, not by any particular design but the ‘mental clock’ seemed to be set around 4:45 and that was time enough for breaky and other ‘morning routines’
before shuffling off again.
You see so many interesting things along the road, so much of which you’d never otherwise notice [or appreciate in the same way] when driving. One of the saddest sights were the wreaths and memorials placed where loved ones had perished, a constant reminder that there is no place for complacency when on the road, irrespective of how one travels it. Flashing by in a vehicle, it’s just another cross or bunch of withered flowers, but up close, there’s names, personal items and even accident debris as reminders to reflect upon.
Forty five minutes run south of Marulan I saw a little stone memorial and plaque, the sort you’d see placed where someone’s ashes have been scattered in the vicinity. The inscription read, “Here lies our son, brother and nephew, Christopher Baines. Born 1977 and died on this spot aged 7 & ½ yrs”. Poor little buggar – just another heart breaking statistic on a plaque at the side of the road, slowly being over-run by the weeds. That one really cut.......
There were also some very unusual things you note while running. Apart from the usual array of parts, accessories and rubbish which had fallen, dropped out, or been flung from all manner of vehicles, there were the more unusual items like a pair of ladies bright red, G-string knickers, or over fifty assorted gloves, only one of which were all left handed – did all the right handed ones only fall off on the opposite side of the road?? And why was it that most drains in the gutters on the expressway are numbered, even those 30 km’s from nowhere and with no obvious dam or waterway nearby.......??
Originally I’d planned to fill up the Camelbak’s bladder with enough fluid to carry me through the whole of each day, but then realized it made far more sense to carry as little weight as possible if there were towns in between where I could get a top up. I wheeled off the expressway at the Goulburn turnoff to do just that and noticed how nice and quiet it was there since the highway had been moved to by-pass the town.
A lot of sections of the road surface between Goulburn and Collector are concrete and I didn’t realize just how much more reflective of the UV rays they were. Despite mainly overcast skies all the way down so far, I’d kept the upper body plastered with sun block, but had never really needed to pay much attention to the legs while running on tar. It wasn’t until I hit the shower at the Bushranger Hotel in Collector and the hot water hit the back of my knees that I realised just how toasted they’d got – another lesson learned!
I was absolutely thrilled to reach Collector as in doing so, I considered that I’d broken the back of this run, the three 60 + km days now behind me. It was also on this day that it dawned on me just how many others were ‘running’ this event with me and while it was a solo affair and I was at the pointy end doing the work, so many friends, relatives and colleagues had expressed so much interest and support over recent months that in many ways it really was a collective affair and I was out there doing it for all of them. I lost count of how many times that thought sustained me through the quiet, isolated sections.......
In all the years I’ve been going down to Bredbo, only once had I called in to the Collector Pub [this seems to be a common occurrence] and that was so long ago that I could barely remember what it looked like inside. Of all the places I stayed along the way [apart from with some dear friends at Canberra the following night] this was the place I most enjoyed for the building, meals, accommodation, ambience and friendly people. The owners are a young couple who have done a great deal of work restoring the building to it’s former glory and it’s great to see people having a go. You could spend an hour just viewing all the memorabilia which adorns the walls and while the creaky stairs and upstairs floorboards remind you of the “old gal’s” age, the facilities and appointments are first class.
I met a couple there who had earlier passed me on the highway and after explaining what I was up to, the lady told me of a 500 km walk she’d done called the Camino de Santiago. It’s a pilgrimage in the North of Spain and I was quite fascinated by her description and the concept. One for the future, perhaps.......
It was lovely chatting with the locals who filtered through the bar during the evening as you were encouraged to join in with their conversations and it was quite fascinating to hear the perspective of rural based people, the things they share in common with, or are distinctly separated by, when compared with their city cousins. Complex people with simple needs, so typical of so many rural folk and so alike to those I know at Bredbo, which was no doubt a factor in why I was so impressed with my stay here.
The leg to Canberra was uneventful and it was lovely to see how lush the countryside was after some recent good rain. Even Lake George had a few decent pools of water forming in it – the first time for many years due to the drought.
I rang my friend Katie from the northern outskirts of Canberra and arranged a pickup point, as I’d be staying with she and her partner David that night and they lived out in the western suburbs, well off my run route. It was a lovely chance to catch up and while away the afternoon, telling tales of my run so far and reminiscing about camping trips to Bredbo, friends and times past.
Katie dropped me at the Monaro Highway the next morning and as soon as I hit the ranges south of Canberra, I felt almost “home” again, as the terrain was now so very similar to that around Bredbo. From here I switched to running against the oncoming traffic due to the much narrower verges. This was fun as you got to watch the expressions on the faces of people driving toward you, everything from snobby ladies in Canberra registered Range Rovers [“I’ll just pretend he’s not there....”] through bemusement to the smiles, waves and toots of people whom I’m guessing were into some sort of endurance activity themselves and thus able to relate to the lunacy involved!
The best look came from a young girl of about 12, sitting in the front passengers seat next to her father. As she looked up and saw me, her eyes lit up like saucers behind her rather large glasses and a look of absolute amazement covered her face as I watched her mouthing, “Oh my god!” Two ladies even gave me a huge round of applause to go with toots and a wave – wonderful!
Half way between Canberra and Michelago I came running up unseen to where a cocky was in a paddock replacing some fencing, just as a car came past and tooted. The cocky looked up, spied me and exclaimed in an almost startled manner, “what the #@*! are you doing out here?!” After I explained, he shook his head and said, “well I’ll be buggared!” before wishing me well. Also that day I saw Ruggie, a friend from Bredbo, scooting up toward Canberra and again on his return drive when he wheeled over to see how I was doing and promising to let everyone at home know that I was on my way.
Later that day while slogging up a hill, I suddenly wondered how my mate and next door neighbour, Graeme, was progressing. He was driving down to Bredbo a day before I got there to camp the night so he could be there when I arrived and then bring me back home the following day. Blow me down if I didn’t look over my shoulder and there he was driving up behind me! A quick snack, progress photo and underway again.
I got to Michelago just before the heavens opened up bringing more welcome rain. South of Canberra was nowhere near as lush as on it’s northern side and while locals described it as still being a “green drought” it was looking better around there than it had for years. Booking into the motel, the owner told me how he was going to a dinner function in Canberra that night as it was the 200th anniversary of the Battle of Trafalgar, in which his great-great-great grandfather had fought.
The motel has a restaurant and bar which doubles as a pseudo hotel for the locals on Friday and Saturday evenings. I noticed on the dinner menu that one of the house specialties was “Bredbo Brer” which were rabbits farmed by the son of another Bredbo friend, Malcolm. He’d started up this very innovative enterprise several years ago and I was always struck by the irony of someone growing meat rabbits for sale in Bredbo, as I can remember seeing there in years past, so many wild rabbits running round the hills that you couldn’t shoot enough of them to be of any real assistance to the cocky who was kind enough to grant you permission to camp and shoot on his property. Mind you, the farmed ones were somewhat more tender than most of the wild, gamey ones I’ve dispatched over the years but there still seemed to be an element of “Coals to Newcastle – Ice to Eskimo’s” involved That being said, the business is going great guns and the rabbit tasted great for dinner that night!
Graeme had earlier advised that after a conversation with my mate Ron [a co-owner of the Bredbo property upon which I’d been made welcome over so many years] would not be there when I finished the run as he was taking three of his children to a dirt bike race meeting in Holbrook that weekend [Bredbo has produced some national champions over the years, of which Ron was one] and while I could fully understand that, I was somewhat disappointed at the thought of not being able to catch up with him after the run.
In another one of those “blow me down” moments, guess who unexpectedly banged on the door of my motel room that evening......Ron and the kids in the process of taking a major deviation just to ensure that they witnessed me at some stage along the way - how lovely!
The next morning.....the grand finale and wasn’t I pumped! The last day would be the shortest, a sort of “victory march to the finish line” and it was all I could do to while away enough of the time between when I woke and when I needed to leave [to ensure that I wouldn’t get to the Bredbo Inn before it opened!]. I set off after an eternity at 7:10 beneath a crisp, cloudless blue sky.
I got about 5 km’s down the road and was overtaken by a strange mix of emotions. I should have been feeling elated to be so close now and while to some degree that was the case, I also felt somewhat apprehensive, even disappointed, perhaps because the big adventure was almost over..........weird! A few km’s further down the road and I was fine again. Must have just been a bit fatigued and tight starting off, but was warmed up and loose again now.
Steve and his partner from Bredbo saw me and wheeled over to say g’day at the top of what I call the “Big Dipper Hill”, another unexpected and welcome surprise. They were off to Canberra to get some vegie seedlings to plant out in their garden. A little bit further up the road I stopped at a rest area to just sit and quietly contemplate for a moment, but that was soon shattered by an “attack of the killer swallows”. OK, we’ve all been swooped by the odd maggy during nesting season, but swallows??
Seems like I’d inadvertently perched too close to their unseen nest and man, weren’t they going to let me know it! The little buggars swooped at my head faster and with greater efficiency than a pair of FA-18 fighter jets, swerving away at the last second and only millimetres from my face with beaks snapping as they hurled their most seriously abusive swallow-chirps in my direction. After my initial amusement subsided, I started to think, “geez guys, give it up!” but they were pissed and on a mission and nothing short of a fatality [mine, I gather they hoped!] would deter them from driving this invader from their domain.
“OK you little twirps” thinks muggins. “No respect deserves none back!” so off came my trusty open-top tennis cap and after one or two practice swings to get their range, “Whack!” as I winged one and sent it into a feathery spiral onto the mulch surrounding a nearby shrub. “Ripper!” thinks muggins, lurching toward the downed Exocet intent on plucking one or two of it’s primary’s to teach it why size really does matter in the animal kingdom, only to see it shake it’s head ga-ga fashion before winging off in a limp, meandering manner toward it’s partner in crime for some consolation. They left me alone after that, but I hung around for 5 min’s longer than I needed to, just to show ‘em that I could if I chose to and then departed with a victorious snort and single finger salute in their direction! Back to business.....
Graeme came driving up the road about 6 km’s from Bredbo to see where I was and got the first of several photos on my approach to the ‘finish line’. As he drove back toward the village I crested the last incline and the sight of Bredbo just ahead filled me with almost overwhelming emotion. I’d done it – I really had bloody well done it and I was ecstatic! At that moment there wasn’t a vehicle or person in sight and I stopped right in the middle of the road and looked back to where I’d come from, almost in disbelief.
Just for a second I stood there motionless, savouring the moment with a huge dopey grin on my face and a tear of pride and accomplishment welling in my eyes, before it all got too much and I erupted in the biggest “yah-frigigin-hoooo!!” that my lungs could expel - what a rush!!
Many a time while planning this event had I visualized myself in certain places and situations along the run route; a sort of ‘mental training’ if you will and running into Bredbo was exactly as I’d envisaged - no fanfare or fuss, just me walking quietly into the Bredbo Inn for a thirst quencher to share the adventure with friends as they filtered in over the course of the afternoon, and that’s exactly how it was.
I’d dreamed a dream, dismissed it as impossible, set the goal irrespective, found ways to achieve it and then shared it with friends. What more could you want............
