Ultra Tales #2 - My 100 Mile Ultramarathon

5am Friday morning I woke up like a kid on Christmas Day. I knew the race started at midnight and more sleep was needed, but it was race day and the event I had been training for all year was here at last. Besides, I'm up early so I'll be able to have a little sleep at some point during the day. Well, yes and no. I got an hour. Better than nothing, I guess. Check in for the race was at the finishing line, The Perth Hills Discovery Centre, around 9pm and then a 2 hour bus ride south to somewhere in the middle of nowhere. My back up sleep plan was to have a nap on the bus. I managed 15 minutes. Not the best of starts but comparing it to my previous attempt at this race back in 2020 and how I was feeling at the start then, I was doing pretty good. The coach dropped us off down a gravel road on a chilly, still night with nothing but trees, darkness and now 46 runners. With no light pollution the stars were amazing.

With the start line being so remote the first aid station was not until Sullivans Rock at the 42km point. You can leave a drop bag at the aid stations to refill your supplies, change of t-shirt or whatever you think you might need, plus they have water and usually fruit and sugary treats. Last year I ran straight past this aid station and had to double back, this year I was better prepared. Actually, I was better prepared in every way. I had built my training up slowly from when I signed up to the race a year ago, ramping it up each month and running shorter races along the way when they fit in with the schedule and distance plan. The slow and steady escalation of distance in training lead to very few injuries, got my feet nicely toughened up, my race fuel strategy tried, and test and my belly used to eating while running. All of which I had issues with last time I attempted Feral.

I left the first aid station at 6:35am. Not a particularly fast section for me, with a bit of a mix of slow running, walking and getting lost in the dark. I had the route saved on my GPS watch which I was checking constantly so if I did make a wrong turn, and I often did, then I was back on track pretty quickly. The whole race was on the Bibbulmun track and the little yellow course markers show up really well in torch light. Handy if you remember to look up. Often while running in the dark the head torch is looking where your feet are going on the uneven ground. The Bibbulmun track would then veer off in a different direction to the current path leaving me to continue on blissfully unaware. With one exception, I never really went too wrong with the navigation throughout the whole race.

The day was hot, about 28 degrees out on the trails apparently and very little shade. I had four water bottles, and they were all now empty. Aid station #2 was Brookton Highway at 73km. The volunteers are always super helpful and wonderful people. Without their compassion and willingness to patch us up and get us going there would be far fewer finishers. This aid station was next level though. Coke with ice and a bacon and egg muffin. I had been running/walking for 13 hours and this was like heaven. The volunteers there not only had the treats to lift my spirits, they also treated me like a racecar in a professional pit stop. I'm there eating my food and drinking my drink while they emptied my pockets, refilled my water and stuffed it all back in my race vest. First class service, legends. At this point last time in 2020 I was not running at all, even my walking was getting slower. This race I made sure I ran out of that aid station and kept on doing so fully focused on my mission.

Mt Dale car park was the next aid station i was in and out in a flash keenly aware that time spent dawdling at check points really add up after a while. Plus, being a hot day in WA there were so many flies. Oh, so many flies. Running was the only way to stop them swarming over my sweaty face. I knew they would be bad though, so I had a thin sports towel I used to continuously whip around my face and body to swat the little buggers away. I had ran 89km to this point and wasn't feeling the best, understandably a bit tired. It was 4:30pm, so 16.5 hours in.

Beraking aid station was next. The sun had just set. This was the point I quit at last time after 24 hours. Now I'm here feeling pretty good, rejuvenated by that fact and 4 hours quicker than last time. I left the aid station in good spirits. After walking a lot of the last section, I was actually running. At a decent pace too considering. I looked down at my watch, and I was going the wrong way. That's ok I thought, I didn't go far. I headed back to the aid station and got back on track. I ran past a few people heading the other way. Feral Pig has multiple distances all starting at different locations and different times. I assumed these folks were doing a different race. Then I ran past a couple more people, they stopped me. One of them was the sweeper... for this race! The back marker volunteer who makes sure no one is left behind. After a bit of a debate the sweeper, Mark, convinced me that I was the one who was running the wrong way and not him haha. Sleep deprivation was making me dumb. Turns out my watch was good at telling me i was on the course, but it didn't care what direction I was going in. I had run 3kms to make myself last and now I had to run 3kms back again to the aid station where I quit last time. Idiot. Funny though. I had a chuckle to myself and got on with it.

113km was the Allen Road aid station. I had no idea when the aid stations were turning up anymore. I had run too many bonus kms so I couldn't tell when they were supposed to be and I was too tired to figure it out. I finally walked into Allen Road. I really needed to sleep. Allen road is a gravel road in a dark forest - there was nowhere to sleep. There was a chair and one of the kind volunteers offered me her car to sleep in, but for some reason I knew I'd just lay and waste time probably without actually sleeping. This aid station was another standout with it's hot soup and the good conversation at a time when I needed some company. I stayed there for a bit and headed on. it was 11:35pm.

113km was the Allen Road aid station. I had no idea when the aid stations were turning up anymore. I had run too many bonus kms so I couldn't tell when they were supposed to be and I was too tired to figure it out. I finally walked into Allen Road. I really needed to sleep. Allen road is a gravel road in a dark forest - there was nowhere to sleep. There was a chair and one of the kind volunteers offered me her car to sleep in, but for some reason I knew I'd just lay and waste time probably without actually sleeping. This aid station was another standout with it's hot soup and the good conversation at a time when I needed some company. I stayed there for a bit and headed on. it was 11:35pm.

Not long after leaving Allen Road things started going wrong. I was already chaffed and sore, tired and sleepy. First my main head torch died. It was a USB device and so it just needed charging plus I had a back up. The back up torch however was shit. It was my back up last time and it was rubbish then, so I have no idea why I brought it with me again this time. The light from this head torch was about half as bright as my other one. I tried using my phone's torch and it was exactly the same brightness. Good for finding something in the dark, terrible for running in the dark. I was shattered anyway so I didn't mind walking. Head torch back on I carried on walking. I had been awake for about 43 hours and ran/walked for 120km. My eyes were playing tricks on me. It had started off earlier in the day with seeing people or parked cars in the distance. Nope just a tree. It was always very convincing. Now though with the dim light and sleep deprivation it was becoming full hallucinations. Not my first rodeo so it was pretty cool. The increasing frequency was a bit disconcerting though. Every bush I walked past looked like some Aztec warrior alien thing holding a spear or in a pose like you'd see in a weird museum. They were static and obviously really trees and bushes, so I just enjoyed looking at the freaky things until I had walked close enough for my head torch to move the shadows significantly enough to alter the images back to reality. The rocks on the floor became works of art too fooling my mind into seeing engraved portraits of random faces. Pretty cool. I kept hearing voices on the wind. Again, this happened earlier too during the day. Maybe the whispered incoherent noises were voices from other runners or hikers carried by the wind through the silence of the night, or maybe I had just spent too much time out in the sticks by myself. I was so tired. At this point with the hallucinations, dim light and no idea how long it would be til the next aid station, i thought my race was done for. I just wanted to lie down and sleep. It was getting cold. Very cold. I had my thin running jacket on so I was ok, but if I had laid on the track (as I contemplated many times) I probably would have got hypothermia and been in a pretty bad way. My eyes kept rolling and I'd snap out of my sleepy slumber mid walk only by the noise of my shoes scuffing the floor as I lost balance. This continued for a couple of hours. I thought my race was over. The cold air was accompanied by heavy rain. At that point I was thankful for not giving in to my weaker lets-just-lay-down-here-and-sleep self-earlier. Albeit slowly, I continued forward.

Through more luck than judgement I arrived at the Mundaring aid station, 126km, 35 minutes before the cut off time. This would also be the finish line later as the next stage of the race was an out and back section to Kalamunda. The volunteers were awesome. They asked me what I needed. I mumbled "sleep". They said you're cutting it fine, if you want to carry on you need to leave here by 5am to be able to continue. They said you can probably have 15 minutes. I had just gone from thinking I'm going to pass out in the middle of nowhere to you're still in this race if you want to be mate. Fuck yeah, let’s have it. I sat on a chair, and they gave me a blanket. I put the blanket over my head and passed out straight away. 15 minutes later they woke me up with a hot chocolate. Another F1 style pitstop with with another helpful legend filling my race vest with full water bottles, treats from the aid station and a perfect temperature coffee that I could chug down quickly. 15 minutes sleep and 10 minutes before my race would have ended and I was feeling pretty good. She reassured me that the sun was coming up soon and it would get warmer. I thanked her for helping make me right again and I actually ran out of the aid station.

The combination of the surprisingly magically effect of 15 minutes sleep, the help at the aid station and the sun coming up and I was a new man. I knew I only had a marathon left to go and this race was mine to lose. I wasn't going to let that happen. My little saying that I like to remind myself of (and my kids too) is You vs You. I knew I could finish this race. I knew that from the beginning. Not from 6 or 7 years ago, that was just a farfetched maybe one day type thing. I knew from the moment I failed at it last time. Well maybe a month or two afterwards. I thought, nah I'm not having that. I'm going to fucking beat that race. Affirm to myself that I can do what I know I can do. Now I was close enough to prove it.

Conscious of starting this section 10 minutes before cut off time I ran all the way to the next aid station. I was more determined than ever. No walking the hills like I often do on these distance events. Don't get me wrong, this was no sprint, but I ran everything - the flat, ups and downs. I arrived at Camel Farm 45 minutes before cut off time. I ran straight through, no stopping. I knew the next section to Kalamunda was hilly and technical (rocky and difficult to run) so I wanted to give myself as much time as possible.

Cut off time for Kalamunda was 10:30am. I made it there by 9am. Again, treated to bacon and eggs, but I couldn't really eat it. My body was hating me. Fatigue, bruised swollen feet, blisters, sore muscles, chafing in unspeakable places to the point of bleeding. I was so broken. The sun turned up to max again and the flies were trying to fly in my everywhere. I set off again. I wasn't running fast in the slightest, it was barely running at all, but it was faster than walking.

I got to back to Camel Farm at I don't know what time, but well under cut off. I knew I had this. Then a new game presented itself. There was another runner at this aid station in equal state of exhaustion. We left the aid station at the same time. I was going to make sure I beat this fella to finish. I was shattered though. after a couple of kms I looked behind and he was nowhere to be seen. I decided to revert to walking the hills and enjoy the rest of the day, happy in the knowledge that soon I would have completed something pretty grueling and satisfying. Something I have been prepping for all year. Getting up at 4am to run half marathons before work. Having to cut back on the other things I enjoy doing so that I could give this race the focus and respect it demands. A noise snapped me out of my daydream. I turn around and saw matey about 200 meters behind me. Haha, not today mate. If you want to beat me, you're going to have to leg it. I upped my pace and ran all the hills, descents, stairs and all - all the way to the finish. I headed around the final corner to be greeted by my family and friends who really made my happy smile that much bigger. I had finally done it!

The Feral Pig 100 miler is a brutal race. The distance is obviously massive. It's always hot. This year it was also freezing and wet. 4km of elevation. Running through the night (twice) over varying difficulty of terrain all while navigating it yourself completely sleep deprived (i was awake about 60 hours total not including my power naps). 46 runners started the race on Friday night, almost half didn't finish. The race director stated at the start line of the 3,000,000 people living in Perth less than 350 have ever completed a 100 miler. I am quite proud to now be counted in that number. I am a bit of a completionist (is that a word?). I hate leaving things unfinished. I always have a few things on the go, but also understand that to achieve the bigger, trickier and ultimately more worthwhile goals they need my full focus and commitment. Running all the way from smoker to 100 miler has given me an ever-evolving mindset and a belief in myself and what I can achieve. I am proud to have ticked this box and am also keen to move on to my next challenge. This next one I've been patiently waiting on for some time now. Time to rest up, change up my training and then put in the hard work to prove I can do what I know I can do. Fun times ahead.

A HUGE thank you to my wife for without her none of it would have been possible. Her love and support, cheering me on throughout the race with texts and giving me hope, looking after the kids so could take on this crazy adventure and helping me recover, bathing me when I was broken and everything else that has helped me achieve this goal. The message - try something that tests you, then try something slightly harder, increase the difficulty, then try something you never thought you could do. One step at at time, edge your way closer to your goal. You never know what you might get to experience along the way. Often the journey itself is the true destination, but if you do manage to accomplish that goal - that stays with you and sets new boundaries, new possibilities. Give it a try. Think big, start small and build it gradually. We are all capable of so much more than we think.