Tanks on E but the soul is full!
The Soul Runner @ Riverhead ReLaps
Below is a guest post by the legend Campbell Forlong.
This afternoon felt like a world away from one of the most challenging days of my 58 years, as I lazily crashed on the couch and watched a dozen crazy runners do laps of a forest trail at the Riverhead Backyard Relaps Ultra. And as I write this the final 5 are out still out there running into their second night on lap 38.
As for me, my day and snippet of a night, was over all too soon, even though probably the longest day of my life. I joined 183 other brightly clad energizer bunnies in the corral at 9am soon after the final one minute whistle blew, and then we were off looping the still all too wet from a night of rain, forest path.
At my side was my run crazy buddy Jo, who insisted on me walking more than running and keeping tight lipped. Her plan was to run 3-4 laps and then join my support crew, and she knew if I was to stay focussed and reserve energy I better not spend my whole time chatting to others, which I’m prone to do.
Hours later and as many laps under the belt, I was still maintaining a good balance between run and walk, and keeping my word count to a mere dozen greetings and ‘you’re doing great’. Both very unnatural for me, but both very helpful.
I couldn’t believe how this slow rhythm of 6.7km laps in 52-53 minutes saw a marathon come and go with no obvious sign of fatigue. It was at this point grandiose ideas formed, in my obviously already delusional brain, of 24 hours and beyond.
Running in my own silence was so enlightening, as I became a listener. Sorry to say but I discovered us runners generally talk a lot about ourselves and our running. Of course most conversations start with questions like: “Why are you running a Backyard?”, “How many laps are you going for?”, what other ultra’s have you run?”. And this soon leads to reciprocal questions and we all find ourselves boasting of past endeavours and modestly playing down our dreams of milers and seeing the sunrise on day 2.
And here was no different, I couldn’t believe how much chatter was actually going on. Every time I crested a hill top the sound of a dozen conversations rose up like the sound of waves that come through our bedroom door when a westerly brings large swells to our shores at Raglan.
Lap 10 came and went. With it, the headlamps were turned on and the dialogue turned off. The army of 184 seemed to half, and my pace slowed for a lap as new navigational skills were tuned in to technical down hills with the changing light. It was now that I found myself for the first time feeling more than a little discomfort, while also watching the smooth and effortless form of others who cruised by. I suddenly felt old, tired, and outside my league, doubting my 100km goal, let alone my lofty dreams for a miler in 24 hours.
Listening to others in my silence, it became obvious that more than a few fit young bucks around me were feeling the pinch also and talking about pulling the pin at lap 12 or 15. My lap 12, 80km, came and went and with it a sharp focus to make it to lap 15.
By this time, the Riverhead Backyard village was well and truly in night time party mode. Fairy lights pulsing, boom box blaring, even a policing siren sounding at the halfway point. The event village was one of the very special pieces of this race, not only featuring the start finish, one way in, one way out, corral at its heart, but also rows and rows of gazebos and campers set in a expanding grid.
I lucked in with both my support crew, and our gazebo placement so close to the corral. Having my best friend and life-long partner Lorraine, and two great running buddies, Jo and Mark, waiting on me hand and foot, not only filled my belly, cleaned my feet, (my mate Marty showed up for a few laps and even offered to brush my teeth - but I decided to do that myself), they rubbed my aching quads, and they filled me with confidence and the will to keep going.
This was my first Backyard Ultra, and I have to say it was exceeding my expectations. Shaun is such a passionate and personable race director, and Chris from Runners With Beards brought plenty of energy to the Corral, and both had already inspired me to be bearded up for this event.
The send off for the few night laps I got to experience was amazing, the crowd crammed the sidelines, shouting and cheering, lights flashing, music blasting, so much energy - I have to say it is the only race I’ve run where a start was more emotional than a finish, and we got to start over and over again for as many laps as we were in it for.
Then came lap 14. No matter how much I tried to push my uphill walking pace and stretch out on the downs, my time was leaking and I arrived between the 3 minute and 2 minute whistle. I realised it wasn’t whether my body would give out or my mind would give up, but would I be able to maintain the pace, even a slow 6.7km per hour pace? I was reaching my limit.
Determined to complete lap 15, and with it the 100km mark, I knew I’d have to push lap 15, running even the ups. Half around I found myself all alone and as I got within air shot of the finish line, I heard the announcement that there were 4 left on the lap, and the 1st whistle blew, and then sprinting (not that anyone watching knew I was sprinting), I heard the 2nd whistle blow as I entered the finish line shoot. I crossed the line and I was done.
And yet I had just under 2 minutes until the next lap, so why not see if I could do 16?
A quick drop into the gazebo to grab my mate Mark’s headlamp because mine was out, and then swallow down a cup of water and I was back in the corral ready to just give it a crack. About 10 minutes in, I realised that this was to be a solo lap, a slow lap, and my final lap. I also realised I’d forgotten to put my backup headlamp in my pocket and wondered what would happen if Mark’s ran out of charge midway through the forest.
I didn’t see another person or light for the next 59 minutes but I did complete my 16th, and unofficial lap. It was 1:09am, I was an offical DNF (having a coffee mug, and mug-shot to prove it), I had run until I couldn’t complete a lap in one hour, clocked up 100km (106km unofficially), I was sore all over without injury, completely empty in body and brain, and yet content and full to the brim in my soul … and maybe that’s why I do this crazy thing called ultra.
This morning, after a very short and restless sleep in the camper, I awoke still basking in my mere mortal 100km glory, and hobbled to the corral to watch 18 other-worldly creatures cross the line clocking up 160kms, and right now as I prepare to go have another sleep, now in my own bed, a handful of these extraordinary people who soon will have run 250kms, will continue running through the night about to complete 250!
Campbell Forlong
Soul Runner