One of the aspects of ultrarunning that I really like is a heightened sense of Accountability. You’re accountable for your own race; nobody is going to run it for you. Don’t forget that you chose to do this; nobody forced you to. In saying that, I often tried to negotiate swapping legs mid race with a vollie or crew. Charming as I might have come across, I have never pulled off such negotiations. You’re accountable for the safety of fellow runners that cross your path. If they’re in dire straits, their interests come first. You’re accountable for an overall positive experience of the whole event. Guess what, when you arrive at an aid station, you can choose to smile and to be kind, and be aware that the aid station people might be doing a much tougher gig than you do. They look after every runner that comes through; they may have been there for days, sleep deprived as much as you are. As much pain as you are in, you can still choose to brighten up their days a little bit and make their jobs slightly easier. The race is as much about you as it is about everyone else.
I believe that if people could take this awareness and attitude to their jobs, then every workplace would be a great environment.
During and after these 200 milers, watching people’s behaviour on and off course almost always makes me want to be a better person. Somehow the longer and tougher these events are, the more amazing these experiences seem to be, at least to me. The camaraderie is tighter, the accountability more heightened, the awareness sharper, the acceptance more resolute. Today, I saw a quote posted on a marathon group in Asia which said that running could teach runners humility, and majority of comments from runners displayed sarcasm and disbelief. I really hope that these runners get to run the big milers some day (or perhaps push their pace in marathons a bit more). The long trails and the high mountains excel at putting chest thumping humans where they belong.
Let’s go back to the start of the race. Unlike the TOR in Italy, Delirious started with little fanfare. It looked like a few dozen people about to do a multi-day hike. Low key, casual, sprinkled with a good dose of wry humour, just the way I like it. There was no fist pumping or slogan shouting. There is a lot of that in some races I ran in; nothing wrong with that, just not my style.
We took a few photos, with Ian and Sue who are amazing runners from the Big Red Run days; with old warring partners Kirk and George – we have run a lot of races together; with Oliver whom I had met at the MVP Backyard. Oliver later finished 3rd in the men’s, a wonderful result for a 200 mile first timer. There were a few other runners I had known from WA or from interstate and overseas too – Darlene, John, Georgia, Big Kev, Bianca, Sean, etc.
I did not know what to expect in this race. I had come into it having run only a bit over 100km in training in the 4 months since the TOR. That is under-conditioning in anyone’s language coming into a race of this calibre. Plus the fatigue from long covid and knee pain that could threaten at any time.
So I had a run-walk game plan that would allow me to ease off pressure on the joints from the start. The pace suited my new (amazing and graceful) friend Libby, and we hung out for a lot of day time on the first day. When we got to Dog Road (about 60km into the race), I felt more confident as no knee pain or fatigue had kicked in, so I said to Libby that I would run ahead for a bit and catch her later. I had a good run throughout the night until the sleepy bug caught up with me. A couple of hours fighting against it yielded nothing but more fatigue. I crashed and slept in one of the trail huts. When I got to Mandalay Beach next morning, I ran into Libby again and we started climbing the endless sand dunes together. It was the first of the tough segments in the race. The sand, the elevation and the heat were the main challenges of this part. Libby was game, as she had not had a proper nap at all since starting the race. We survived this segment finally, with Libby taking two 4-minute dirt naps on the hot sand.