Andrew Taylor
45 kilometres of pleasure and pain is how the race
director describes the Six Foot Track Marathon
(http://www.sixfoot.com (http://www.sixfoot.com/)). 45km on rocky trails isn't
easy and an altitude profile equivalent to running into
and out of the Grand Canyon make it a challenge. A
record 680 entrants this year. Many from interstate,
some even from overseas.
A friend put us up in her Blackheath weekender convenient to
the race start. A hot and humid Sydney summer had stretched
into March. A few days ago it'd had been 30+C which would
make the race climbs intolerable. 5am race day its feels
like 10C. Immediately I'm shivering and hunting around for
another layer of clothes while trying not to wake the kids.
I breakfast on sports drink and creamed rice and think how
good the post-race beer will be. Dawn shows far too much
blue sky - where is the forecast cloudy day?
Monica gets me to the start with almost an hour to spare. A
special wave of over-70 age group runners already set off:
http://tinyurl.com/2fhpf The start is convival chaos.
Runners mill around greeting friends perhaps not seen since
last year. A sub-4 marathon is an entry requirement so fit
bodies are everywhere. Particularly intimidating are the
tans and muscles of the triathletes.
The port-a-loo queue is long and I head into the bush. The
privacy is limited as other runners, male and female, have
the same idea. I've become accustomed to public urination
since taking up running.
The day is warming and its more nerves than shivering that
makes it hard to stand still behind the start line. Then we
are off: http://tinyurl.com/2fhpf Its a madcap sprint
several hundred metres down hill to get good position on the
narrow path down to Nellies Glen 300 metres below. If you
are too slow to the stairs you may be held up for several
minutes. Hurtling over rocks and gravel is absolutely
terrifying but I'm on the stairs in good position. Then its
down, down, down through the rainforest. Mud and moss
underfoot. Several times I misstep, slip and slide but fresh
legs keep me upright and down, down, down.
After Nellies Glen the trail widens and descends more
slowly. I calm down, take stock and slow down. I start
pacing myself using my heart rate
- a marathon strategy courtesy rec.running - thanks Anders.
Runners pass me over the next few kms. A few I won't see
again. Others could be in a 10k race and its hard to
resist cautioning them them to slow down. Bell Miner
colonies in the eucalypt forest here sound delightful. I
chat to few runners. One tells me he was nursing a foot
injury in the week prior to the race and managed to land
awkwardly and damage it twice on the descent.
Around 10km a little pack forms which makes running feel
easier but while watching the runner in front I clip a solid
tree root and dive into the ground. Instinctively I roll
onto my shoulder and slide on my back. Minus some skin I'm
up and moving again quickly. Other fared much worse and
finished: http://tinyurl.com/2j26d
At 15km you have a choice. Some plough straight across the
Cox's river, wading or swimming. I sacrifice a few seconds
and head upstream to where you can boulder-hop across most
years. Its worth it to have dry feet and no sand/gravel in
your shoes. I reach the aid station on the other side in
1:18, 2 minutes ahead of plan and smile for the
photographer: http://tinyurl.com/2ux9y I'm in 54th place at
this point.
The race now gets serious with the 480m climb to Mini Mini
Saddle past Murdering Creek. Most walk at least part of this
climb. I run it - but I make ground only slowly on runners
mixing powerwalking with running. The runner with the dodgy
foot also runs the climb and provides company. Its sunny and
there is little shade on the climb but its OK maybe 20C.
The last of the over-70s is on Mini-Mini Saddle. He's
looking good and I tell him he has the 7 hour cutoff under
control. Just trying to be positive but he made the 7 hour
cutoff: the first over-70 runner ever to be an official
finisher. Amazing effort.
I try to push hard over the top and onto the descent but the
two runners ahead of me disappear out of sight. Clearly my
descending needs improvement. There is a runner half-way
down walking. I can't think of anything to say. He is not
even halfway and in serious trouble.
After a kilometre on the valley floor I'm feeling OK again.
The Black Range high can be seen above and there is a Wedge-
Tailed Eagle soaring over it. Two more creek crossings but
some judicious rock-hopping keeps my feet dry. Now starts
the infamous climb to the Pluviometer at 26km. I run this
climb slower than the last. Some runners are still mixing
running and walking effectively but others are walking
slowly and not looking good. The runner with the sore foot
is still with me but towards the top he drops back and I
don't see him again until the finish. His foot went
completely and he limped home in 6 hours. Tougher then me.
Switchback after switchback this climb seems to go on
forever. The Pluviometer aid station is the second best
sight in the race. I can't be looking good because the
volunteers suggest I sit down for a while. I'm not feeling
good either but I'm there in 2:33 only a minute outside my
race plan. I don't know it, but I'm now 38th.
The track keeps climbing on Black Range but the worst is
over. We pass through some pretty forest. A Yellow Robin
stares at me sideways from a tree trunk. I hear a Lyrebird
singing in the valley below - winter must be coming. My legs
begin to struggle around 30km and I can't squeeze enough
speed out of them. I slip behind my planned pace. The only
consolation is I run the short but nasty climbs before the
Caves Rd crossing at 38km - last year I had to walk here.
The track is lined with cheering spectators at Caves Rd but
I'm not in good shape. I force myself not to stop. I snatch
some sports drink and charge across the bitumen. My watch
tells I've been running for 3:42. I'm 7 minutes behind
schedule. My legs tell me worse is to come.
The trail then undulates and for a while I manage a decent
pace but the last undulations take all I've got. I know I've
lost more minutes. The final descent begins just over 2km
from the finish. Now you drop 400m down a rocky fire trail
with a teacherous surface. On fresh legs it would be
difficult, on destroyed legs its a nightmare. I don't want
to be overtaken now so I push as hard as I can. I see a
runner ahead and forget all caution and pick up speed and
actually overtake him. Amazingly this happens twice more.
The cement path above Caves House takes forever to come.
When it does I don't check my watch. I know its bad news.
Half way down the path I almost trip and when I try to
recover my legs are like jelly. For several strides they
wobble uncontrollably. I somehow stay upright and they
respond again.
Near the bottom I hear the announcer say here come two
runners. There must be someone right behind me. I do not
want to be overtaken in sight of the finish. I charge into
the last turn. Now I hear steps behind. Spectators are
cheering loudly. I turn and sprint for the finish 20 metres
away: http://tinyurl.com/2gese My legs wobble once but carry
me across the finish line just ahead of the chasing runner.
I'm collapse against a barrier as announcer teases the guy
behind about being half my age. Tom & Zoe rush over. I'd
have a nice finish picture if I'd not been half-dead:
http://tinyurl.com/2sfgd
I was 29th overall in 4:23, only a 4 minute improvement on
last years
4:27. I was aiming for 4:10 - maybe this was optimistic but
I should have been able to get closer. The race was
won in 3:29 with the first woman home in 4:33.
The spirit at the finish is tremendous. Every runner is
cheered in. The finish line announcer does a wonderful job
- emphasing the diverse stories of achievement. I wanted to
meet a few people but in the end I get a cold beer and
slump in a quiet spot while the rest of the family go on a
cave tour.
Its a great race but I won't be back next year. I'll come
back to the Six Foot when I have legs that can do it
justice. Living in inner Sydney I can't train on similar
terrain without driving some distance and I don't have time
to do this. I've been spending too much time running as it
is. Three days after the event my legs feel like they may
never run again anyway.
Andrew Taylor
director describes the Six Foot Track Marathon
(http://www.sixfoot.com (http://www.sixfoot.com/)). 45km on rocky trails isn't
easy and an altitude profile equivalent to running into
and out of the Grand Canyon make it a challenge. A
record 680 entrants this year. Many from interstate,
some even from overseas.
A friend put us up in her Blackheath weekender convenient to
the race start. A hot and humid Sydney summer had stretched
into March. A few days ago it'd had been 30+C which would
make the race climbs intolerable. 5am race day its feels
like 10C. Immediately I'm shivering and hunting around for
another layer of clothes while trying not to wake the kids.
I breakfast on sports drink and creamed rice and think how
good the post-race beer will be. Dawn shows far too much
blue sky - where is the forecast cloudy day?
Monica gets me to the start with almost an hour to spare. A
special wave of over-70 age group runners already set off:
http://tinyurl.com/2fhpf The start is convival chaos.
Runners mill around greeting friends perhaps not seen since
last year. A sub-4 marathon is an entry requirement so fit
bodies are everywhere. Particularly intimidating are the
tans and muscles of the triathletes.
The port-a-loo queue is long and I head into the bush. The
privacy is limited as other runners, male and female, have
the same idea. I've become accustomed to public urination
since taking up running.
The day is warming and its more nerves than shivering that
makes it hard to stand still behind the start line. Then we
are off: http://tinyurl.com/2fhpf Its a madcap sprint
several hundred metres down hill to get good position on the
narrow path down to Nellies Glen 300 metres below. If you
are too slow to the stairs you may be held up for several
minutes. Hurtling over rocks and gravel is absolutely
terrifying but I'm on the stairs in good position. Then its
down, down, down through the rainforest. Mud and moss
underfoot. Several times I misstep, slip and slide but fresh
legs keep me upright and down, down, down.
After Nellies Glen the trail widens and descends more
slowly. I calm down, take stock and slow down. I start
pacing myself using my heart rate
- a marathon strategy courtesy rec.running - thanks Anders.
Runners pass me over the next few kms. A few I won't see
again. Others could be in a 10k race and its hard to
resist cautioning them them to slow down. Bell Miner
colonies in the eucalypt forest here sound delightful. I
chat to few runners. One tells me he was nursing a foot
injury in the week prior to the race and managed to land
awkwardly and damage it twice on the descent.
Around 10km a little pack forms which makes running feel
easier but while watching the runner in front I clip a solid
tree root and dive into the ground. Instinctively I roll
onto my shoulder and slide on my back. Minus some skin I'm
up and moving again quickly. Other fared much worse and
finished: http://tinyurl.com/2j26d
At 15km you have a choice. Some plough straight across the
Cox's river, wading or swimming. I sacrifice a few seconds
and head upstream to where you can boulder-hop across most
years. Its worth it to have dry feet and no sand/gravel in
your shoes. I reach the aid station on the other side in
1:18, 2 minutes ahead of plan and smile for the
photographer: http://tinyurl.com/2ux9y I'm in 54th place at
this point.
The race now gets serious with the 480m climb to Mini Mini
Saddle past Murdering Creek. Most walk at least part of this
climb. I run it - but I make ground only slowly on runners
mixing powerwalking with running. The runner with the dodgy
foot also runs the climb and provides company. Its sunny and
there is little shade on the climb but its OK maybe 20C.
The last of the over-70s is on Mini-Mini Saddle. He's
looking good and I tell him he has the 7 hour cutoff under
control. Just trying to be positive but he made the 7 hour
cutoff: the first over-70 runner ever to be an official
finisher. Amazing effort.
I try to push hard over the top and onto the descent but the
two runners ahead of me disappear out of sight. Clearly my
descending needs improvement. There is a runner half-way
down walking. I can't think of anything to say. He is not
even halfway and in serious trouble.
After a kilometre on the valley floor I'm feeling OK again.
The Black Range high can be seen above and there is a Wedge-
Tailed Eagle soaring over it. Two more creek crossings but
some judicious rock-hopping keeps my feet dry. Now starts
the infamous climb to the Pluviometer at 26km. I run this
climb slower than the last. Some runners are still mixing
running and walking effectively but others are walking
slowly and not looking good. The runner with the sore foot
is still with me but towards the top he drops back and I
don't see him again until the finish. His foot went
completely and he limped home in 6 hours. Tougher then me.
Switchback after switchback this climb seems to go on
forever. The Pluviometer aid station is the second best
sight in the race. I can't be looking good because the
volunteers suggest I sit down for a while. I'm not feeling
good either but I'm there in 2:33 only a minute outside my
race plan. I don't know it, but I'm now 38th.
The track keeps climbing on Black Range but the worst is
over. We pass through some pretty forest. A Yellow Robin
stares at me sideways from a tree trunk. I hear a Lyrebird
singing in the valley below - winter must be coming. My legs
begin to struggle around 30km and I can't squeeze enough
speed out of them. I slip behind my planned pace. The only
consolation is I run the short but nasty climbs before the
Caves Rd crossing at 38km - last year I had to walk here.
The track is lined with cheering spectators at Caves Rd but
I'm not in good shape. I force myself not to stop. I snatch
some sports drink and charge across the bitumen. My watch
tells I've been running for 3:42. I'm 7 minutes behind
schedule. My legs tell me worse is to come.
The trail then undulates and for a while I manage a decent
pace but the last undulations take all I've got. I know I've
lost more minutes. The final descent begins just over 2km
from the finish. Now you drop 400m down a rocky fire trail
with a teacherous surface. On fresh legs it would be
difficult, on destroyed legs its a nightmare. I don't want
to be overtaken now so I push as hard as I can. I see a
runner ahead and forget all caution and pick up speed and
actually overtake him. Amazingly this happens twice more.
The cement path above Caves House takes forever to come.
When it does I don't check my watch. I know its bad news.
Half way down the path I almost trip and when I try to
recover my legs are like jelly. For several strides they
wobble uncontrollably. I somehow stay upright and they
respond again.
Near the bottom I hear the announcer say here come two
runners. There must be someone right behind me. I do not
want to be overtaken in sight of the finish. I charge into
the last turn. Now I hear steps behind. Spectators are
cheering loudly. I turn and sprint for the finish 20 metres
away: http://tinyurl.com/2gese My legs wobble once but carry
me across the finish line just ahead of the chasing runner.
I'm collapse against a barrier as announcer teases the guy
behind about being half my age. Tom & Zoe rush over. I'd
have a nice finish picture if I'd not been half-dead:
http://tinyurl.com/2sfgd
I was 29th overall in 4:23, only a 4 minute improvement on
last years
4:27. I was aiming for 4:10 - maybe this was optimistic but
I should have been able to get closer. The race was
won in 3:29 with the first woman home in 4:33.
The spirit at the finish is tremendous. Every runner is
cheered in. The finish line announcer does a wonderful job
- emphasing the diverse stories of achievement. I wanted to
meet a few people but in the end I get a cold beer and
slump in a quiet spot while the rest of the family go on a
cave tour.
Its a great race but I won't be back next year. I'll come
back to the Six Foot when I have legs that can do it
justice. Living in inner Sydney I can't train on similar
terrain without driving some distance and I don't have time
to do this. I've been spending too much time running as it
is. Three days after the event my legs feel like they may
never run again anyway.
Andrew Taylor
