Surf Coast Century 50km – Sunday 13 September 2014

After the arrival of my second son Charlie in late 2012, I took a year of running long distances. In 2013 I read Chris McDougall’s (no relation) inspirational ‘Born to Run.’ I also adopted Eric Orton’s minimalist performance running training regime. I knew when I started running long distances again it would be off road and ultra.

But by March 2014, due to injuries and illness, my initial goal of running the You Yangs 50km in June lay in ruins. In April in consolation I ran a 10km trail run at Anglesea, instead of the half marathon I planned.  Anglesea just happened to be the venue of the Surf Coast Century.

The Surf Coast Century 100km ultra marathon, takes place every year in September at Anglesea on the Great Ocean Road. The state is just emerging from winter and the mild temperatures are perfect for running long distances. In the early morning, when the race starts, it’s still cold enough to wear a beanie and gloves. As the sun rises, you gradually warm up, and like a snake shedding skin, peeling off one layer after another.

The run starts in the pre-dawn chill from the Anglesea river mouth on a short loop down to the surf club and back. The course then proceeds east along the beach beneath towering sea cliffs and across exposed reefs towards Torquay. From Torquay the race heads back inland on the gravel tracked Surf Coast Heritage Trail and then on to single track through groves of Iron Bark. Back at Anglesea, the course continues inland through rainforest before returning from Moggs Creek to Anglesea via the coast.

The elite runners complete this course in just under a staggering nine hours. The last of the runners may take up to twenty hours. Sixteen hours is the cut off time for the coveted beer stein that can be filled up at the local hotel in celebration.

This race is one of the newest ultra-marathons in Australia and is rapidly gaining in popularity due to its stunning scenery, superb organisation and accessibility from Melbourne. In 2014 there were over seven hundred and fifty competitors across both races including over one hundred participants from interstate and overseas. The whole event is smoothly and efficiently run by people who live in the area.

When I returned to Melbourne after the 10km race, I found out that there would be a 50km option at the Surf Coast Century. I immediately signed up, knowing that the 100km would be one step beyond my current capabilities. I embarked on Jeff Galloway’s slow long distance trail running program. But by late April I was once more sidelined by persistent colds and injury. It seemed by ultra-dream was becoming ever more distant.

I knew I had to do something different, or I would never toe the start line of the 50km, or any ultra for that matter. When I got back to running in late May, I adopted Anna Hughes program that included intense overload training blocks. I also began a regime of green smoothies, vitamins and herbs to keep myself cold free. I worked on my mental strength through meditation and Paraliminals. To keep myself injury free, I bought a pair of Hoka One One’s, the maximalist super cushioned shoes that are taking the ultra-running community by storm.

All through the winter I managed to keep myself both injury and cold and flu free. Most mornings it was exhilarating to get up on while it was still dark in the icy air and run. There was one week in July leading into an overload training block that I felt a cold coming on. My resting heart rate was also elevated. I chose to back off for the week and increase my dosage of ginseng and echinecha. I also experienced some intermittent knee soreness which I had treated by acupuncture. The key to staying fit was to anticipate and jump on any niggle or illness straight away.

When people ask me how I find the time to train for an ultra in among family life and career pressures, I tell them I have adopted Jason Robillard’s ABT philosophy – "Always be training." When you think about it, the demands and discipline of family life and career are an excellent foundation for the endurance required to complete an ultra. If you adopt the ABT philosophy, even the most mundane chore like taking out the trash can add incrementally to your fitness.

On the Friday before the race, we drove down to Anglesea to check into the Beachfront caravan park where we’d stayed back in April for the 10km race. Later that afternoon I went to register at the municipal hall and drop off my bag for the half-way point. In my drop bag I had a spare pair of shoes and socks, as well as a Hammer Bar and a bottle of Perpetuem for fuelling in the second half of the race.

The first thing I noticed was how lean and mean all the runners looked. I guess that was to be expected, but it was quite a contrast to normal marathon registrations. All dark colours and fleeces with not a flash of lycra or fluro to be seen. I picked up my number plate, race t-shirt and a cow bell for the boys to ring at the finish. I returned at 6:30pm for the briefing. The fully assembled ultra throng was even more intimidating. I didn't feel as if I belonged there at all.

That night Charlie refused to go to sleep, which was completely out of character. At 10pm we had four in the bed including four year old Angus. I didn’t get to sleep until after 11pm. I wasn’t too worried about the lack of sleep, as in the preceding week I’d made sure I’d got to bed at 8:30pm every night. I’d anticipated the lack of sleep on the night before the race due to nerves and excitement. Being kept awake by restless children was no big deal.

I set my alarm for 4:45am to ensure that I had time for a coffee and to get dressed and be fully awake by the time I had to set off to the start line for a 6:00am start. At 2:45am I ventured out to the kitchen and ate a Hammer Bar. I’d read that there was no point in ingesting any food three hours or less before a race. Anything consumed during that time could lead to a spike in blood sugar levels, leaving the body feeling depleted by the time the race started.

They say that bad luck happens in threes. I should have guessed that Charlie’s restlessness was only the beginning of my trials on the way to the starting line.  Imagine my panic when Angus woke me at 5:30am saying he was hungry for breakfast.  All my careful plans for a zen like start before the race went out the window. I had fifteen minutes to go to the toilet, get dressed and get Angus breakfast.

I arrived at the start with 3 minutes to spare. As the final countdown started, a rush of adrenalin pulsed through my body like a Droop Street junkie. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end in anticipation of the challenges to come.

As I was leaving the start a woman approached me with my sunnies and visor. In my rush to get to the start I’d left my Ultimate Direction PB race vest open spilling it’s contents onto the wet sand. I felt like a deer caught in headlights. All my pre-race cool was now totally shattered. I may as well have had “Ultra Virgin” in Sonia’s fluorescent pink lipstick scrawled across my forehead.

This was the end of the bad luck, or so I hoped. Chastened, I took it extra cautiously, walking the first 5 minutes to regain my composure. As the chasing pack receded over a headland into the dawn light, I felt like a piece of flotsam from a ship wreck tossed on the beach in their wake.

Like a deer caught in headlights - Start

The first four kilometers were on a loop to the west before passing the start line again. It was familiar territory from the 10km back in April, allowing me to regain my composure. I focussed on a slow steady pace that I hoped to maintain throughout the race.

I was also conscious of keeping my heart rate down below 65% HRR. In the initial stages of the race it is vital to avoid any spikes above the red line of 80%. Such indiscretions in the excitement of the beginning of an ultra can come back to bite you in the later stages in the form of tired legs and exhaustion.

Once past the start line again, I gave my headlamp to an official. It was a relaxing cruise up the hard packed sand beneath spectacular sea cliffs at sunrise. I felt as if now the race had really started.

Sunrise - Leg 1

Near Red Rocks, I was trailing a group of runners around a headland when I witnessed one of them plunging knee deep into water. I managed to avoid the deepest part of the sink hole and at least kept my shorts dry.  Sometimes it pays to be the tortoise.

Soon after I experienced some right knee soreness, a legacy of my intensive training over the last four months. I tried not to pay too much attention to the niggle. I put it down to the running god’s retribution for my hubris at avoiding a soaking.

At the first checkpoint after 10km at Addis Point, I refilled my water bottle. I texted my wife Sonia to say all was fine. After Check Point 1 the hard packed beach was replaced with more technical reef running and some steep headlands to cross. At one reef, a runner had cut their head open in a fall, a timely reminder that in adventure there is always risk. I kept to my plan of walking over the tricky bits.

Softly softly - On the reef

After 21km, Torquay Surf Club was the venue of the first major checkpoint. I spent eight minutes there changing wet shoes and socks, ditching my fleece top, gloves and hat. I also picked up the Hammer Bar and second bottle of Perpetuem. I gobbled down the energy bar, but in retrospect I should have divided into thirds. I was more thirsty on this leg due to the over consumption of calories.

After leaving Torquay it was on to the gravel tracked Surf Coast Trail past golf resorts and beach access car parks.  I still felt fresh at the 25km halfway mark, my knee was fine. But soon after my right calf began to complain as if to remind me that the race was not over.

This alarmed me more than the knee, as I’d torn my calf on numerous occasions in the past. For a moment, I contemplated the ignominy of walking the final half of the course. Instead I reduced my pace, accepted the pain and focussed on my surroundings. I repeated Murakami’s mantra: “Pain is inevitable but suffering is optional.”

On the trail - Leg 2

Leg two was hillier than Leg 1, with over five hundred meters of elevation gain and loss. Like most other runners except the elites, I walked the hills and ran the downhills. I took the opportunity on the hills to chill and talk to other runners who were in fact a friendly and supportive bunch.

At the Iron Bark Basin Picnic check point I made sure I filled up my auxiliary water bottle for the journey home. Not long after leaving CP3, it was downhill through a single trail wonderland of Iron Bark groves. Despite the sublime beauty of the trail, it was important to keep an eye out for tree roots having witnessed a number of tumbles before me.

Back at the caravan park Sonia, Angus and Charlie were ticking off the checkpoints as I phoned them in on the course guide. Reportedly Angus even did an impersonation of my running on the spot. He also began questioning why I was taking longer than usual on my Saturday run. Keeping in contact by phone with my family buoyed my spirits at each checkpoint.

At the 42km marathon mark I felt my spirits and energy lift into another gear. I let Sonia know I was on the homeward stretch. I downed my first caffeinated gel. I immediately felt a boost and noticed my HRR climb. I was on the home stretch and enjoying every mile as they ticked by.

This was when the Hoka One one’s really came into their own. It was time to fly. I even found myself apologising to the 100km runners as I passed them by, letting them know I only had a short distance to run. I ran past the Eumerlla Scout camp, past the Anglesea football ground and behind the caravan park.

Before I knew it, I was crossing the sand again at the Anglesea river mouth and heading for the finish. Being greeted by Sonia, Angus and Charlie at the finish line was the best moment of my running life. The runners high was so intense that I almost felt giddy. I felt as if I could have kept on going. There was a fleeting moment of disappointment that it was all over, like reading a Murakami novel that ends too soon with some mystery yet to be revealed.

The finish - All smiles with Angus

Within minutes of finishing, I was back to family duties. Buying a BBQ sausage for Angus, pushing Charlie in the stroller around the expo. Sonia handed me my recovery bottle and we made our way back to the caravan park. At the park, Angus insisted we go for a swim. Which turned out to be a brilliant idea, as the freezing water provided an ideal recovery soak for my legs.

After swimming, it was a mini golf and a circumnavigation of the caravan park in a pedal carts. For this I was thankful too, it helped my recovery by keeping active. We had dinner at the local bistro where I wolfed down a steak. Angus and Charlie were equally enthusiastic about their chips and ice cream. It was truly a delight to be back with my family.

The Buddhist’s have a saying: Before enlightenment chopping wood, after enlightenment chopping wood. What I think it really means is this: Before enlightenment chopping wood, after enlightenment CHOPPING WOOD. Enlightenment brings us to a new appreciation of everyday life. Before ultra-marathon family life, after ultra-marathon FAMILY LIFE.

“I’ve had the time of my life today. From the sunrise while running along the beach, to having my supportive family here at the finish line and the volunteers at the aid stations around the course, everything has been fantastic.”
Andrew McDougall from Trail Run Magazine