In the shadows of Mt Buffalo

With February here, and only just over a month till the Alpine Challenge 100km, I am using every bit of free time to head to our Australian peaks and get as much training, playing, hiking, and exploring into my legs as possible. 

This past weekend I headed down south again on what is becoming a very familiar 700km drive from Sydney to Bright. I had 3 days off so the plan was to get in some quality hills and then race the Mt Buller Skyrun on the Sunday. 

Friday - Mt Buffalo 

The climb up to Mt Buffalo across large granite slabs, and up on the alpine plateau is fast becoming one of my favorite places to be. The colors, spectacular view points, unique vegetation, and meandering trails keep you wanting to run and explore well past sunset. Recommended is either starting at the Eurobin picnic ground and taking the Big Walk trail up to the plateau, or driving up higher to either Mackey's Lookout, or onto the plateau and accessing the trails from the Chalet carpark.  

The start of my hike, on the Big Walk Trail just beyond Mackey's Lookout:

View across the granite to the Australian Alps in the distance:

The Big Walk trail:

 

A lone snow gum trying to survive the harsh alpine climate:

 

Views towards the Australian Alps, Mt Bogong with its summit in the clouds:

 

View down into the valley from the Gorge

The Mt Buffalo Chalet, now closed and waiting for a new owner:

Boardwalk trail meandering through a little glen of sphagnum moss:

Lake Catani, a great place to finish a run and soak the legs and body:

On the Caldwell Galleries trail that takes you through a labyrinth of granite:

The ever changing mountain weather fast closing in, ghostly snow gum skeletons in the foreground:

The Mt Buffalo plateau:

The view of Lake Catani from The Monolith:

 

Saturday - Clear Spot, Bright

Saturday called for hills. Lots of them. A friend living in the beautiful little town of Bright recommended the hike up to Clear Spot (~1000m high). The trail is a fire break running straight up a ridge through commercial foresting areas. It is exposed, steep, rocky and perfect for training. Access is from Hargraves St in Bright, although there are other trails (of varying gradient) leading up to the top.

Last climb for the day done:

Nothing beats doing a little power yoga when you are at the top of the climb:

With training done, I could enjoy the blackberries on the way down:

Sunday - Mt Buller Skyrun

Read about the race here.

Journeys: The beginning

"Your toughness is made up of equal parts: persistence and experience. You don't so much as outrun your opponents as outlast and outsmart them, and the toughest opponent of all is the one inside your head." - Joe Henderson

The beginning - The 2012 North Face 100km

Although this race might have been the final destination for many - the end of a season of hard training, focus and preparation, I have come to view this race as my beginning. 

Prelude

The lead up to arguably the biggest race on the Australian calendar was overwhelming! I had been away from Australia for almost 2 years, and was really looking forward to running with old friends in terrain that felt like home. I thought I had been training well, and had felt strong on some of the longer runs out on the race course. I was planning every detail like I had never done before - nutrition spreadsheets, logistics maps for my crew (amazing friend Nicola, and wonder-mum Greta), and a pace chart to work out exactly where I wanted to be and when. Although this race didn't play to all my strengths (the long stretches of fire trails are where I hurt and really need to focus on my cadence and rhythm), I was determined to go for it and to see where my training had brought me before the start of my racing season. 

It never crossed my mind that I would not finish. 

It was great to attend the race as part of the Salomon Australia team, and to meet international athlete Ryan Sandes. The buzz around Leura was electric, and it was hard not to get mentally waylaid by all the media hype surrounding this epic event. My heart would race every time I thought about the start line, and although I tried to embrace the adrenaline and pre-race nerves surging through my body, I think one of the lessons I have learnt is to be less focused on what everyone else is doing/Twittering/Facebooking, and to concentrate on why I am running and racing, something I have never had to deal with before! Dan Bleakman summed it up nicely on the Ultra168 race report by saying that: "Running is as simple as putting one leg in front of another and appreciating what you have around you. Goals achieved or not, it's only running."

The Race

I think I have learnt more from the 4 hours and 36km of running that I did in this race, than from many of the training runs that I had in the lead up.  

Last minute gear checks at the Fairmont Resort, about 15 minutes till the start (photo courtesy of Oli Wilson):

My start was fast, furious and I immediately focused on where the other runners were and on maintaining my placing, and completely ignored my body and my heart. The adrenaline was telling me "faster, faster," while my mind was telling me "hmmm, your heart rate is unsustainably high, maybe you should slow down, relax and settle into the race." To this the adrenaline replied "SHUT UP MIND, GO FASTER!" David Eadie once remarked to a friend that "at the start of the race, if you think you're going too fast, you're definitely going too fast. If you think you're going the right speed, you're going too fast. If you think you're going way too slow, your pace is about right." 

So, my first lesson from the race is to never ignore my heart.

At an early stage of the race, running through Leura, still smiling and catching up with Sam Robinson from Suunto who was out cheering for us (photo courtesy of Oli Wilson):

By 18km, I could feel my digestion not working optimally. It's pretty obvious that my body was sending all available blood to my muscles rather than to help with digesting, a result of burning the candle at both ends (my dad loves this phrase). The result was bloating, as all the nutrition I was taking in just sat in my tummy instead of providing energy to my muscles. Instead of powering up the notorious Golden Staircase as I normally would, I crawled up at snail pace. During this climb my HR peaked 182bpm, which I think says it all.
My second lesson from the race is to always plan for the worst. If I was already feeling bad at 18km, I should have taken time to stop, rest for a few minutes, try a different nutrition strategy.

At the top of the Golden Staircase, the photo capturing just how hard I was working at this stage (photo courtesy of Lyndon Marceau):

The next 18km were so tough. By now I had completely used all energy, and had replaced it with nothing. My pace slowed, I had stomach cramping and I felt nauseated. I really wanted to stop. The 8km to the next checkpoint were awful as I was vomiting at this stage, a result of all that nutrition just not digesting. I couldn't stop thinking about how early on in the race it was. When I got in to the next checkpoint I went straight to the first aid station. In my mind I had finished. And so I had. After another small vomit, I decided to finish there. Now, I wish I hadn't. I recently read "to get through the hardest journey we need take only one step at a time, but we must keep on stepping." (Chinese Proverb).
My third lesson here was to KEEP GOING. I know this, I know that after the worst slump, things can always turn around. Walking is a good start, and invariably jogging will soon follow. One of my Salomon team mates told me this as I was lying in the first aid station, told me to at least walk to the next aid station, but in that moment the idea of walking shamed me. I forgot why I was running and the personal challenges that undertaking the hardest of journeys brings.

So, this is the beginning. I can move forward into my next races with these three, hard-earned lessons behind me. I don't wish this kind of race experience on anyone, but if you can learn from what went wrong then it is these kinds of setbacks that build experience and allow you to persist when the going really gets rough.

The 2012 Two Bays Trail Run

My first race for 2012 came around quickly, and took me to the town of Dromana on the Mornington Peninsula. The 56km Two Bays Trail Marathon would be a good opportunity to test where I was at in my fitness, and to get in a longer run pushed by a group of pretty awesome runners. In the womens field were some swift ladies, notably Kirstin Bull and Louise Sharp, the former part of the Australian team that raced at the Commonwealth Ultra Distance and Mountain Running championship in Wales. The challenge for me would be to run a fast, non-technical course that would force me to focus on speed and cadence, not my strengths!

The race was tough! I ran a fast 28km out to Cape Schank, most of the time in 3rd place until just before the turn around, at which point Louise Sharp passed me in fine form and looking solid. I remember thinking "this feels too good, it will catch up to me." The course itself included a mix of road, fire trail and single track (not too technical), allowing runners to really open up on the downhill. At certain points of the course beautiful views out to the water encouraged runners along.

During the second half of the race my pace slowed, I battled a few nasty stomach cramps (I think from using gels when I haven't trained with them) and had to rein in the negative wanderings of my mind to focus on my goals for this race. Before I knew it, 40km was done, then 50km (and a huge slog back up to Arthurs Seat) and then down to the finish line. I finished 7th female in 5:40. The race itself was fantastically organised: aid stations worthy of a heartfelt thanks, well signposted trails to help heat-befuddled runners, and volunteers who knew how to coax runners during their "why am I doing this to myself" meltdown.

Bushrangers Bay at 27km:

Powerhiking the last hill at the 50km mark:

The finish (obviously still something left in the tank):

Photographs thanks to: fstop5 Sports Photography

White River 50 Mile Endurance Run

5am. 4 runners wake before the alarm rings. They crawl out of their sleeping bags, out of the tent and start their own individual pre-race rituals. I am deep in a valley running the length of the Chinook Pass Highway. Our campsite is next to White River, a fast-running murky-grey ribbon of water that appears white due to glacial sediment washed down from the mountains.

I am one of 300 runners about to take on the challenge of one of the most prestigious, well-respected 50mile races in the United States, the White River 50 mile Endurance Run. The race has a formidable history as a previous USA track and field Trail and Ultrarunning Championship race, and has been attended by the likes of Anton Krupicka (2009 and 2010 winner), Scott Jurek, Kami Semick and Krissy Moehl. Big names aside, the real attraction of the race is the epic scenery that clears the mind of pain and fatigue. Much of the 44miles of single track trail sits up on a ridgeline from where the views of Mount Rainier beg you to stop, take it in and to enjoy!

Our group arrived at the starting line with barely time to adjust packs before the pre-race briefing began. The competition was stiff, but I was more intimidated by the amount of wild hair, handle-bar mustaches and crotch-splitting shorts around me. All thoughts of taking this run as a "training run" disappeared.

Jackie and I, with our matching Salomon race-vest:

Race director Scott McCoubrey prepping the runners on the the trail details:

Race Start:

The start took us from the Buck Creek campground along 6km of wide single track trail. What had looked like a bunch of gentle, nature loving hippies dressed in spandex turned out to be a ferocious bunch of runners ripping through the mud and setting a solid pace. Fallen trees were hurdled, rocks skirted and soon I realized that this would be a wild, challenging run as much about negotiating the mountain terrain as it would be about running.

The first climb up to Corral Pass happened without too much pain. The switchbacks climbed gently, easy enough for the general field that banter filled the quiet forest. One short, steep section reinforced with stairs left calves screaming for mercy, but then we were back onto the barely climbing trail that would take us up to 1800m. Here we started a lovely section that rolled through blossoming alpine meadows along the border of the Norse Peak Wilderness Area. One one side, Mount Rainier hung onto your shoulder, a huge 4392m high volcano that is actually one of the most dangerous volcanoes in the world!

Uli Steidl returning from the out-and-back section holding first place:

Mount Rainier behind me:

Photo courtesy of Glen Tachiyama.

This is why I run:

Once we had completed the out and back section, we had a beautiful 10km section of single-track downhill ahead of us. I passed some of my "competition" during this section, stretching out my legs to enjoy the pull of gravity. The trail looped back to Buck Creek where we started, and then started the 14km climb up to Sun Top Mountain. By this stage I was hot and combining power hiking and running to try and maintain a steady pace up. I noticed that although some runners would pass me as I hiked, I would easily catch them further ahead.

Half way up a group of mountain bikers pointed out Mount Rainier behind me. This was my expression when I looked around:

Always time for a photo-op:

Running towards the aid station at the top of Sun Top Mountain:

Photo courtesy of Glen Tachiyama.

Quick refuel at the aid station:

From Sun Top we had another descent. This one would turn out to be brutal. 10km along a forest service road pushed every runner to focus on saving some reserves for the final leg of the race. I stuck to the shade and tried to manage my pace. I had a funny side cramp, so avoided taking in any food or water to minimise exacerbating the ache. Once we arrived at the Skookum Flats trailhead, the final 10km was ON. I splashed a GU Brew across my mouth and face, grabbed a fistfull of potatoes and set out to try and beat 10hrs.

I wanted this section done. Every small rolling hill that I would normally not even notice seemed like a personal Mount Everest. I can run this, I would remind myself. Every time I saw a spectator I would ask how far to the finish line. The answer would be a vague distance in miles that I wasn't able to convert to metric with my tired, glucose-deprived brain. My friend Jackie caught me with a steady pace about 4 km from the finish. She swept me along in her wake and I tried to hold on to her, but at one stage I had to gasp "Jackie, I'm going anaerobic, you go ahead." In retrospect I was being soft. But at the time, 78km in, I was defeated! So I stumbled after Jackie, ashamed for having given up, turned a corner and saw the open stretch to the finish line!

A heel-kick for good luck:

A solid "training run," I finished in 9hr 52, 9th female overall and 1st in my age category!

Jackie and I, fresh as daisies:

Our group, Mike, Jackie, myself and Rune:

This race exemplified what trail running is for me. It called on you to leap, to bound, to have faith that the trail would catch you. During some parts I felt completely alone in the forest, and yet at every aid station I would turn up and feel like I was arriving at a 5-star Hilton hotel. As Mike said to me later, "well Gretel, now you can tick that off your bucket list." He is right. Every runner should take the time to come and run this amazing race in the wilderness of Washington State once in their life!