This has taken me a while to write the final part of this story. But like the UTA50, it was something I had to complete this year.
Quiet contemplation and a 50 km run
On the morning of UTA50 Saturday 18 May I felt relatively calm. The emotions and exhaustion of the week were spent on things more important and profound than a run in the bush. The quiet and strong and dignified manner of Dad’s untimely death set an example; helping me feel that I could overcome anything to finish.
Good morning!
I’d laid my clothes out on the floor in order for a relaxing start, and I had picked through the options and had decided which of the clothing and equipment I was taking.
Chikako had frozen her 1.5 litre water bladder full of BCAA and two additional soft flasks with electrolytes. I worried that they would never thaw out despite the reasonably warm forecast. She made peanut butter and jam burritos (just like a sandwich, only smaller) as real food to chomp on. I loaded up on Shotz gels, Tailwind and the magical, Japanese sour plum-flavoured amino acid and salt tablets. I squeezed one of the extra frozen soft flasks in the back of my pack, put the hotel key in a secure pocket, and we set out.
When will we get to the start?
One of the truly impressive things about UTA is the shuttle buses the run throughout the days of the event. The Start/Finish area is closed to casual traffic and parking has to be booked in advance. But something went wrong this year.
A UTA shuttle bus stop was located conveniently across the street from our accommodation in Leura (partly why we chose to stay there). A long line had already formed by 6:00. As we were starting in the last group at 8:02 we weren’t worried about jumping on the first bus. I was more worried about the ice that was forming on the outside of our packs where the frozen soft flasks were.
Then someone near the front of the queue said that the last bus passed 45 minutes previously, and it only took a couple of passengers. (Buses were supposed to be every 5 minutes at peak times, such as now.) Looking down Leura Mall I could see buses driving along Megalong Street towards the start, but none turned towards us. They were filling up at the Fairmont Resort and then going straight to the drop-off.
Runners ahead of us in the bus line (and starting groups) began to make alternative arrangements; a few started running but most scrambled for a lift. (It is about 5 km by foot to Scenic World, or about 4 km to the Skyway at Cliff Drive.) By the time a bus finally arrived we were near the front of the queue.
Our bus driver had realised the problem and came directly to us instead of returning to the Fairmont. He even had room for the few on the Great Western Highway (from where we caught the bus in 2018) and a couple in Katoomba, but passed the next stops.
I wish I could go to work by Skyway
The bus dropped us at the Scenic Skyway. As we loaded into the gondola and waited to leave, on the footpath below us UTA50 runners were hitting the 7 km mark. Some of the runners looked up and responded to our waving (which they could see) and cheering (which they couldn’t hear). The short hop to Scenic World across the gorge was a delight. If you were truly afraid of heights you could have walked the kilometre or so to the start.
Start line, start groups
The first UTA100 group started at 06:20. The last UTA50 group (my group, “the laughing group”) started at 08:02. Before each start the announcers gave the same encouragement:
“If you need to have a cry, have a cry and then keep running. If you need to vomit, vomit and then keep running. If you need to wee yourself, just have a wee and keep running”
If that’s not inspirational, I don’t know what is. The more conventional and practical advice for UTA is this:
“In the first half, don’t be a hero. In the second half, don’t be a wimp.
I reflected on something else. As the start of Group 7 approached I paused to think of Dad, recalling what my sister told me; “Dad was strong to the end.” So would I be.
And we’re OFF! Any notion of a 10-hour finish were replaced by a focus on “finish”. I would be inside the 13:30 cut-off for sure (the UTA50 cut-off is flexible), so there wasn’t much reason to go crazy. My two-pronged strategy was this:
- Stay with Chikako – because pairs and groups are more likely to finish. (And you only have to buy one set of photos)
- Turn down the pace (aka “don’t be a hero”) – because it’s a long day.
From the beginning I didn’t attack the descents (or the ascents) and fast-walked the steep bits, as evidenced by the slower times at the beginning compared to last year:
- 2018: 1 km 7:39 – 5 km 37:38
- 2019: 1 km 11:11 – 5 km 43:47
| May 2018 | ||||
| TIMING POINT | SPEED | RANK | TIME OF THE DAY | RACE TIME |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 952m Scenic World | – km/h | – | Sat. 08:02 | 00:00:00 |
| 984m 1km | 8,39 km/h | 1223 | Sat. 08:09 | 00:07:39 |
| 983m 5km | 4,16 km/h | 1478 | Sat. 08:39 | 00:37:38 |
| 919m Fairmont Resort Water Point | 5,46 km/h | 1708 | Sat. 11:13 | 03:11:21 |
| 836m Queen Victoria Hospital | 4,19 km/h | 1753 | Sat. 13:48 / Sat. 16:25 | 05:46:15 |
| May 2019 | ||||
| TIMING POINT | SPEED | RANK | TIME OF THE DAY | RACE TIME |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 952m Scenic World | – km/h | – | Sat. 08:02 | 00:00:00 |
| 984m 1km | 5,74 km/h | 2010 | Sat. 08:13 | 00:11:11 |
| 983m 5km | 3,83 km/h | 2008 | Sat. 08:45 | 00:43:47 |
| 919m Fairmont Resort Water Point | 4,60 km/h | 2028 | Sat. 11:48 | 03:46:26 |
| 836m Queen Victoria Hospital | 3,97 km/h | 1921 | Sat. 14:32 / Sat. 14:44 | 06:30:01 |
At 7 km I looked up at the Skyway, looked at my watch, and felt good about my pace. This was going to be a good day.
Km 9 to 15 – The green hell of the Leura Cascades
In 2018 this section destroyed me. I blame the unrealistically-smoothed elevation guide published by UTA. (I should blame my lack of conditioning.) This year I was prepared physically and mentally.
The 200 m descent on the Giant Stairway demands your attention, especially at my height as some overhangs make for cramped. Top Tip: If you are in front of your friends, don’t turn around to have a conversation with them. Concentrate on the stairs. The bottom seems impossibly far away. The twists and turns and dense foliage mean that you can only see the bottom when you’re very close to it. The sight of UTA Crew in hi-viz is welcome indeed, as was a flat-ish section of trail to switch the legs on again.
The trail rolls along the floor with a few tricky bits, tree roots and rocks, but nothing too taxing. Suddenly, a scream! About 20 m us behind a woman had slipped off the track. She was with friends and they were only 100 m or so from the UTA Crew member, so we kept going. A few minutes later two women passed us, one saying to the other, “I heard a snap, and it wasn’t a stick.” That sounded bad, and it wasn’t the last we would hear about it. (Coincidentally, in 2018 at almost the same place I passed a woman off the track receiving attention after a fall.)
After the Giant Stairway there is 1 km of generally descending trail before the stairs really begin. That is the last of the flat terrain for the next 5 km. The published profile doesn’t do justice to the unremitting ups and downs. I climbed the stairs with flat feet to save my legs, chose a steady pace to save my legs, and tried to save my legs. Chikako kept pace well, pausing only a couple of times.
Km 15 to 23 to Wentworth Falls
The next welcome sight: Sublime Point. I’d walked these roads and part of the trail to come 2 days before. It felt familiar and comforting. In 2018, I could barely run the descent to the golf club such was the pain in my quads; a forecast of how badly my day would end. This year I ran the descent to the Fairmont (17.2 km) to refill water (Tailwind in one, BCAA and Creatine in the other) and eat. I found a SIM card and removal tool in a ziplock bag and handed it in. Chikako stopped briefly and started before me. I caught up to her about 500 m down the track.
Lots of down, but less steep than before. (Strava segment UTA50 – Fairmont (17.2k) to QVH (28k) indicates only 121 m of climbing in 11 km). The first 100 m of descending is mostly on earth and wooden steps, which can be a trip hazard if the earth level is lower than the wood. In some parts there is enough trail to the side of the stairs if you want to step around them. The ascents were less severe too. It was nice move with relative ease and emerge from the bush into a car park to the cheers of spectators and the mild bewilderment of tourists.
At about the 21 km mark the first UTA100 runner passed us. (In 2018, that happened to me at 25 km.) More descending until the beautiful Wentworth Falls.
Km 23 to 28 – Fire trails and roads to QVH
But first… the climb out of Wentworth Falls is a challenge. The steep section requires selection of foot holes. A few metres later a big chunk of the track is missing and a foot wrong would mean quite a tumble. Clear that and the track widens to a trail peppered with loose rocks.
Eventually the trail smooths out, flattens slightly and becomes runable. We ran a few steps but spend most of it at a fast walk with poles. A rule of thumb from the experts is that if you are walking, use poles.
We picked up the pace on the road to the Queen Victoria Hospital (CP5) a little and ran to the aid station. This was the furthest that Chikako had been on this course. Chikako’s knee was giving her some trouble, and I suggested that this was the best place to abandon as every step we took from here was a step further from rescue. She persevered.
No hot soup?! The first of the UTA100 runners were coming through, but there was no hot soup? I filled up on coca-cola, muesli bars and took a salt and animo acid tablet and we departed.
Km 28 to 41 – The long way down
The Kedumba Pass is 7.5 km long at an average descent of -8.5%. This is no joke. There is no easy way to prepare for this except to descend with good technique. We walked the bulk of the way.
Chikako’s knee was swollen like a balloon. Going on might have been possible, but you really need to weigh up the damage that you might do in a remote and dark corner of the bush. She said that she was happy with 41.2 km (nearly a trail marathon) but she could go no further. The first aid officer gave her a check. She moved gingerly to sit by the fire. I gave her our hotel key, told her to put on all of her clothing, eat all of her food, drink her water and be prepared for a very long wait. #ISpeakFromExperience The only way out was by 4WD back out the trail we came down even though we were 9 km from the finish.
Inside the first aid tent was a runner with his ankle disagreeing with his foot. He was telling the FAO “I’m a registered nurse, so if you have any [brand of powerful painkiller] I can administer it to myself.” He should have packed it, then.
I overheard the crew’s walkie-talkies discussing the cut-off time for the UTA50. After some discussion, one of the crew declared that, ‘she is still running, so let her go.’ Intriguing.
I put on my long-sleeved base layer, thermal tights and attached my phone to a battery pack (but I didn’t change the batteries in my headlight). Filled my bottles, ate food and put my shoes back on.
(I also had an argument with my sister on the phone. I misinterpreted her text “halfway” that she was halfway to Katoomba to meet us at the finish line, which put us under a lot of pressure to meet her, when she was actually saying that she was tracking our progress live and noticed that we had reached halfway a few hours before. Mea culpa)
After 45 minutes I was all but ready to start moving, but first I had to reset. I moved to the edge of the clearing, bent down and had a little cry. I was crying from the 41.2 km of running and walking and climbing and descending… and for dad. Chikako walked over to ask if I was OK. “Yes I am! and I’m going to finish.”
41 to the Furber Steps
Poles out, headlight on, start grinding for 2 km of climbing at 10-15%. I was happy with my steady pace. Even the UTA100 runners weren’t that much faster than me, which tells you something about the grade of the fire trail. We cheered each other on; these
I was heartened when I was able to run the brief downhill and flat sections as this meant that my legs were still in good condition.
What wasn’t so great was my headlight. The spot it produced seemed so much weaker than I had trained with, and pathetic compared to everyone else’s lights. The full moon didn’t penetrate the tree cover, but my light was adequate on the open and light-coloured fire trail… for now. (Yes, if I had replaced the batteries with the spares that I was carrying I would have enjoyed the full 200 lumens.)
But as the road narrowed and became darker, I felt a moment of doubt… I could just stop here and be rescued. But that negativity was immediately by the thought, “Dad was strong to the end and so will I be.”
Suddenly the dark track opens up to a small clearing and I see a family of four on camping chairs siting next to an outdoor BBQ setting that looks like a pop-up cafe, the type that would serve cold-brew and cronuts. “You’re at the Sewage Treatment Works. Good on ya!”
The timing point chicane negotiated, beep to indicate that my bid was registered. The trail narrows to singletrack. I was moving over to let UTA100 runners pass.
But I reached a 1.5 m high mound and the way over was not clear. I moved my spot light up and down and side to side to try to find foot holds. After a few seconds I scrambled up and over. As luck would have it my hesitation allowed two UTA50 runners with very bright lights to catch up to me. We three worked as a group; bright lights at the front and rear and my light pointing downwards to fill in a bit, and leaning over to make room on the narrow trail for passing UTA100 runners. Xioating had run a similar pace to us all day, so our paths had crossed several times. She even asked how Chikako was going.
But the true #TrailAngel move was what she did each time we reached any obstacle on the course; she would walk through it and then turn her head to shine her light to illuminate the path for me.
The sight of a UTA volunteer indicated that we were back on part of the course that we had run in the opposite direction half a day ago. The next volunteer was at the base of The Furber
Steps. “Just 851 steps to go,” he said. The Furber Steps were closed to the public for renovation, so did this mean that the course had changed? “Don’t you mean 951 steps?, we asked. “Oh yeah!” was the reply.
“Unremitting” is the word. The Furber Steps climb about 200 m in 1 km for an almost 20% grade. You have to use your hands in some sections so I held both poles in one hand and used the other hand for railings, rocks, anything. There are few landings of any real length; you are either going up or up!
About halfway up I needed a moment. My heart rate was only 165 bpm (that’s only moderately-high for me) but I felt the need for a tactical chunder. I moved off the trail and heaved a few times but didn’t vomit. Feeling better I started up the stairs. Xioating gave me her headlight as she had spare, so I put it on in addition to mine.
And then, as if by magic, the dirt track and metal and stone steps are replaced by pebble concrete. A woman on the side of the course said, “You’re at the top of the Furber Steps. Well done!” I turned left onto a footbridge and three cameras took my photo. I turned right and recognised the road where this had all started 1/2 a day earlier. Back in the start/finish chute I thanked Xioating and suggested that she cross the line ahead of me.
I mustered up enough adrenaline to force my legs to run to the finish line and jump over it. I turned to bow to the course, the volunteers, my fellow runners and the Gundangara People whose country I had run on. Then it hit me. I moved off the road, fell to my knees and wept and wept floods of tears. The week came pouring out. A volunteer noticed me and asked if I was OK (some runners barely make it over the finish line, so she was expecting some broken bodies). I briefly explained my situation.
At the mandatory gear check the checker said that a surprising high number of UTA11 and UTA22 runners were penalised and that another volunteer had to deal with a runner who had no gear, food or water left and needed assistance. Volunteers do not carry spare stuff that you should be carrying! (I will not reveal which item or items or how many items were inspected. Mandatory means mandatory!)
The end…
I walked slowly towards my drop bag (and Chikako’s) and the showers. I broke down a couple of times on the way. The cheers and acknowledgement from other runners and their supporters really helped.
(Play from 2:13:30 to 2:13:52)
The finisher photo was taken by an ex-colleague Landrie, which was a surprise!
It took me 15 minutes to undress for the showers. Getting dressed afterwards was not much easier.
I finally got my hot soup in the relaxation zone, using my folding cup to best effect. Several cups with bread later I was feeling human. And then the woman sitting next to me asked how I was… and the emotion of the week burst forwards again.
Chikako rang to say that she was on her way to pick me up. I filled up on food and staggered to the car. A hot bath was waiting at the hotel.
(Chikako was driven back to our hotel 3 hours after she had stopped at 41.2 km. She vowed to never run trails again and stick to road marathons. Three weeks later she said, “I’ve booked accommodation in Katoomba next year!”)
My run
My splits were steady and showed the slower pace I deliberately set. Note that my rank was 2010 at the 1 km mark and at the finish; consistency! BTW, my Strava suffer score was 619.
| TIMING POINT | SPEED | RANK | TIME OF THE DAY | RACE TIME |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 952m Scenic World | – km/h | – | Sat. 08:02 | 00:00:00 |
| 984m 1km | 5,74 km/h | 2010 | Sat. 08:13 | 00:11:11 |
| 983m 5km | 3,83 km/h | 2008 | Sat. 08:45 | 00:43:47 |
| 919m Fairmont Resort Water Point | 4,60 km/h | 2028 | Sat. 11:48 | 03:46:26 |
| 836m Queen Victoria Hospital | 3,97 km/h | 1921 | Sat. 14:32 / Sat. 14:44 | 06:30:01 |
| 607m Sewage Treatment Works | 3,91 km/h | 2007 | Sat. 18:52 | 10:50:31 |
| 801m Base of Furber Steps | 2,84 km/h | 2008 | Sat. 20:31 | 12:29:49 |
| 952m Scenic World | 1,79 km/h | 2010 | Sat. 21:12 | 13:10:16 |
The Next Day
It was very difficult to sleep. My legs were uncomfortable in any position and the combination of sugars, caffeine and my body’s restorative processes I only got a few hours of rest here and there. I got up early and put on my merino compression socks, and Chikako and I stumbled down the hill in light drizzle for a hearty breakfast. Getting started was hard, but once forward motion was achieved, walking was relatively easy. Stairs, turning and stopping were challenging, but the satisfaction of moving at all was worth it.
We wondered about the UTA100 runners who were still finishing beyond 24 hours. (The last runner arrived in 28:31:32.)
Later the next day
From the UTA50 Facebook group: ‘My name is Monique. I’m about to have an operation to insert plates and screws to fix my broken tib and fib. I would like to thank my friend Jenny for looking after me until I was rescued.’
Jenny’s 13:11:41 result included the text, “Bonus – 40 minutes – helping injured runner (with a broken leg)”
And thus the walkie-talkie discussion at the 41.2 km water point was explained. #TrailAngels
You hear it all the time – can’t go anywhere in an EV, they’ll never work in Australia, takes too long to charge. However, last week I drove 1635km in a single day in my Tesla. Yes that’s right naysayers: 1015 miles.