Hanging On To Convictions

Image by Pixabay.

My first attempt at a 100K was the inaugural 100km edition of the Sundown Ultra Marathon.

With months of emotional burnout from a declining career though, a good deal of willpower had been wrecked —  I did not finish the race. At slightly lesser than the halfway mark, I called it quits in the late night, at an aid station at Pasir Ris Park.

My heart was just not with the effort. I had to wake up the following morning filled with palpable regrets. This was about 12 years ago.

The demons of my 2011 DNF had since been put to rest. I later completed several events of 100km or more in distance, many of these technically harder than the Sundown Ultra.

While an unsettled business that I don’t feel the urge to resolve (anyway, the 100km Sundown format seems to have ceased being an annual race sometime before the mid-2010s), the DNF left me with a failure by which I can measure and judge my later successes. Particularly, when it comes to mental race fitness, I am stronger today than the person I was in 2011.

The same can be said about my mentality towards training. I may be unmotivated to run today, but as long as my conviction stands, the routine continues. Had a lousy day at work yesterday? Doesn’t matter. Feet out, sweat it off, log the mileage in. At 5.30am, whatever the case.   

I was reminded again of this growth of my mental conditioning after my latest 100km+. Like in 2011, my mind was not in good shape earlier this month. Still, I ran my own ultra (and not an official event with the complete range of race support), despite feeling emotionally drained.

I could have stopped the whole thing, as I slowed to a walk at 11km+. Well, maybe my body and mind ain’t into it. I can always do it another day.

Except, knowing that this run would end in less than 24 hours — and I can justifiably enjoy an onsen bath at Kallang Wave Mall — I was driven to make the best use of the day by finishing it. Oh, the morning downpour also helped invigorate my senses.

The run was done more than 16 hours later.

Certainly, the notion of long, hard work rewarded by a dopamine rush can keep a person through the entire effort. However, this alone may not suffice. We require something stronger than promised pleasure: that is, conviction. Unless you have a firm belief behind any long-term endeavour, the journey will not last.  

Conviction can partly explain my ability to handle 60km weekly mileages almost consecutively for the past years. On many days, in fact, motivation to step out of the door is suboptimal. I also have been much desensitised to the runner’s high. But I went for my daily weekday runs anyway.

I did so because I believe in what I’m doing: that maintaining discipline prepares me for the big battle ahead; that all those mornings on the road translate into fitness gains and a state of health more robust than most people my age; that committing to the routine elevates bits of my self-esteem and solidifies my reason for existence.

In this manner of exercising my beliefs, I have cultivated a larger impetus to complete the longer, harder stuff. As it reminds me what failure feels like, conviction also counsels me to finish the job and not give up.

From that point on, nothing can stop me.

The Route Is The Way

Image by Getty Images.

Running can be a tedium — non-running detractors aside, even the most footloose of runners would admit some days just feel a tad dreary than usual.

In the pre-COVID years, many of my Sunday afternoons were scheduled with LSDs. It was not the most favourable time of the day as my body did not feel like moving much. We know what’s like when our bodies have their own mind.

Perhaps, for the sake of a less hard start, I planned a particular route that included Jurong, Teban Gardens, Pasir Panjang Road and West Coast Road. Sometimes, the runs ended at VivoCity in the southern region of Singapore. Occasionally, they wrapped up a little earlier at the Alexandra Retail Centre (by Alexandra Road), or later, further to the northeast at Serangoon NEX.

Along the way, a few hills might be passed through if I could garner the motivation. Kent Ridge Park and the Southern Ridges supplemented variety to a generally flat route.

The goal really was to make the route more interesting if not the run. Spending the weekends on a 30km under the heat isn’t most people’s idea of fun; which is probably why many runners like to do their sessions in the morning.  

And I still reminisce about those days on the road, regardless, but not because of how well I performed. At least half of those runs were premature gassed outs — a worrisome fact, given that I was mostly training for some big races.

The memories that matter have more to do with the locations. Of lasting impression, there was the balmy serenity of Pasir Panjang Road with a number of churches in its suburban section (I, therefore, christened this stretch, the Bible Belt). On some days, I went past Japanese adults and kids playing baseball on the patchy field of the Japanese Secondary School. I did slope runs at Vigilante Drive, reaching the top of a quiet Kent Ridge Park and enjoying a respite from the water cooler there.

Those places are, by no means, a stimulus of great excitement. I could only posit the simple joys they provide on the contrary to the mundanities of working adult life. If they could not stir me to go any faster, they at least helped me to clock the mileage.

On the other hand, how far can I run without these experiences? By its nature, a long, slow run accentuates the doldrums of a long, slow work week. You are essentially fighting boredom for hours on the move.   

One then has to exercise the bandwidth to reimagine how the same, old route can be changed. Indeed, it wearies the soul to record identical GPS tracings on Strava for days. A little adjustment — like cutting from the usual to less frequented paths — can do wonders. That’s basically what I’m doing for my morning runs for a year or so.

More structured training can elevate race fitness, but the freedom to break away from the norm would be better.

Consistency, in that case, needs fresh routes to thrive on.   

 

Running Intensively & Being Injury-Free: A Facts-Backed, Anecdotal View

Image by Terry Tan.

RUNNING 60km week by week can be a heavy loading experience.

The common refrain is that running intensively can hurt your knees, and it sticks in countless conversations.

Can one truly stay injury-free by committing to such a training regime? I was asked by a few folks about this because this is what I do for the past years.

There’s no sign of stopping for me. Fortunately, no injury strikes so far.

I’m not an expert on my personal fitness, but there is a good deal of factors I can deduce from probable, rational and anecdotal standpoints.

As we all know, no one factor can by itself be a cause of a significant outcome. A result usually materialises from the convergence of various circumstances.  

So take it as you will whilst considering the following points:

 

Minimalist shoes and style of running

Image by Terry Tan.

There was a time when barefoot running and the infamous Vibram FiveFingers are the rage. And then Hokas and maximalist shoes became the next big thing — thus, the era of footwear that weighs like a brick is born.

I still swear by the minimalist way, and had run with Hokas; yes, they really feel like a brick. For me, minimalism is the most natural approach to running, as I enjoy years of light-footed movement without an injury.

This is precisely why minimalist footwear is created. That they can help mitigate or even prevent injuries are pinpointed to them allowing a low-impact gait (by which runners land on the midfoot or forefoot) and having a lightweight build.

That said, the minimalist/forefoot/midfoot way is NOT a foolproof solution. Between this and heel strikers, there are specific injuries that each group are prone to. Heel strikers were found to be more susceptible to knee injuries, while mid- and forefoot strikers had increased chances of hurting their ankle or Achilles tendon.

It’s a matter of people being physiologically different from each other when it comes to running style — I simply found a way of running that works for me.

 

Core muscles    

Image by unknown.

Remember, though, as much as running is itself an exercise, it is not The Exercise which you will only live by. Work is also required for the core muscles, which act as shock absorbers for the repetitive pounding on concrete. Without these firm pounds of flesh, the impact of landing hits straight at leg joints and the low back, and the likelihood of injuries rises.

My core workouts consist of push-ups, pull-ups, hanging leg raises, sit-ups, squats and deadlifts.

Sure, they may not be the set of core exercises commonly prescribed for runners; it is probably safe to argue that they collectively scale up the cores, which become tougher assets to bear the rigours of running.   

 

Running speed

Image by Terry Tan.

I had assumed that since I don’t really do speedwork in my training, I’m spared from injuries that are incurred from going faster and landing harder.

But if one study by the University of Maryland is to be taken at face value, running fast more often may not give you stress fracture  — on the contrary, moving slow could.

How is that the case? According to the study, it was discovered that slow-paced running — and not fast running — leads to the most tibial load.

As it is explained:

“...when the runners went easy, they took shorter strides, and thus were on the ground more often than when they were going fast. That meant that there was more opportunity for impact since the runners were hitting the ground more often… Running at a normal, or moderate, pace actually caused less cumulative tibia load than running the same distance in fast or slow speeds.”

My moderate/normal pace would probably be 6+ min/km to 6:40+ min/km, which is the range I usually function in. This may have saved me from some hurt, but the jury is perhaps still out on this issue.  

 

Running surface

Image by Terry Tan.

Most of my runs were done on a mix of asphalt (park connector paths) and concrete (pavements) surfaces.

Concrete is supposedly the most adverse of all surfaces since “the ground doesn’t absorb any of the shock that travels through a runner’s feet, knees, hips and lower back,” Timothy Noakes, author of “Lore of Running” says. This can therefore result in a higher possibility of injury.

The impact of concrete on my legs may have been offset by my running on asphalt-surfaced park connectors. This, together with a proper running form and strong core muscles, would have concerted toward a lower chance of injury.    

As an Advanced Orthopaedic Centers article points out, asphalt is usually “soft and level” and exerts “less strain” on the Achilles tendon, thus “making it one of the better running surfaces.”

However, it should also be noted that running on asphalt and other surfaces — grass, sand and rubber track — does not spare runners from injuries.

Grass, for example, can produce 25% more shock “to the body than running on asphalt,” the same article states. And soft sand can raise the risk of injury to the Achilles tendon.  

 

Food consumption

Image by unknown.

It’s common knowledge that what you eat has a significant influence on how your body grows. For the runner with a regular training schedule, nutrition is going to have a huge part in their development.

I don’t strictly keep track of my daily diet, but it’s safe to say I should at least receive decent levels of calories, fats and calcium in my system.

A sufficient amount of calories can prevent your muscles from cannibalising themselves — an event known as a catabolic state. The harms of catabolism entail the interference of tissue repair, thus hampering muscle recovery and increasing the likelihood of injury.

Fats can contribute to the formation of cell membranes that can endure damage during workouts, while some types of fats can aid in mitigating injuries.

Calcium is crucial in reducing the chances of bone strains and stress fractures.

 

Never dependent on one factor

As I have previously suggested, I don’t believe my injury-free condition, despite my ‘intensive’ running schedule, is contingent on one big factor.

A multitude of factors, I opine, is part of the larger scheme that ensures I can get my legs out the next day with little hitches.

But who knows; there might be an X-Men athlete out there who can emerge unscathed from the most damaging workout without adhering to any of these factors.

For the rest of us normal folks, it’s all about stepping out of the door with some cautious allowance for trial and error.

Not wanting to risk an injury is simply an excuse.

The New Normal of Running During Circuit Breaker

Image by Terry Tan, 2020.

HAVING worked from home since late last year, I decided to schedule my running sessions to the early morning instead of noon or evening some months back.

I wasn’t a fan of dragging the body along in a groggy state. But once I settled into the routine, it becomes a priority at the start of the day to quickly fulfil that one hour-plus of cardio exertion. With the heart energised post-run, I feel ready to engage the tasks at hand, being unbothered the rest of the day by the demands of committing to my daily 10K.

That was how things were before April this year. Even now, little has changed in terms of my routine. The goal of completing 60km-per-week is maintained and most sessions can be easily conducted with several loops around my neighbourhood.

Then, the COVID-19 outbreak struck the world hard at the start of the year and just about anything is now affected. Travelling out of the country is heavily restricted; people need to move one meter apart from each other to prevent close-contact infections; and several public venues, including gyms and stadiums, have closed temporarily.

For runners, forget about participating in races at least in the first half of 2020 as these events are either postponed or cancelled.

Currently, unless you are leaving home to do something essential — i.e. buying groceries and food takeaways; exercising at a public park or seeing a doctor for a suspected COVID-19 infection — you are strongly encouraged by the authorities to stay at home. Schools have moved to home-based learning for students and employees of many workplaces are operating remotely from home.

What do all these mean for us regular runners who prefer to sweat it out in the morning?

Well, due to a shift to a more flexible work arrangement, anyone who also thinks he/she could sneak in a sesh before 9am is now running along the PCN – that fairly quiet stretch of tarmac beginning to receive a gradual rise of foot traffic.

As Minister for National Development Lawrence Wong warned about people seeking to drive and “make a special trip” to “a special place outside” your neighbourhood “just to exercise”, expect to go the furthest to the nearby park or park connector located a stone’s throw away.


Making adjustments

Until the past weeks or so, keeping a 1-2 meters separation from another person as I ran past at the PCN wasn’t a big problem. There weren’t many people in the mornings of the earlier weeks and most were folks I have seen almost daily, whether it is the lady walking her two Shih Tzus or the old man taking a stroll with his portable radio playing.

When the Circuit Breaker measures kicked in early April, the number of visitors to the PCNs and parks noticeably increased and so are the sight of unfamiliar faces. In addition to the multiple runners I have to avoid moving too close to, I also contend with people moving in pairs or a bigger group, which sometimes takes up about half of the path.

Under still-normal circumstances during the initial phase of local COVID-19 transmissions, keeping a wider width between you and the other individual at the PCN is simple – all you need to do is to run more to the side of the pathway.

However, we are now coping with a new normal, and as such, many people are not used to being very cautious in these extraordinary times. Anecdotally speaking, I have lost count the moments I veered to the grass patch on the side because somebody was moving a little too close.

Regular runners like ourselves will have to put in the effort to ensure personal safety so that we can go home with peace of mind, confident that we are not potentially bringing in an invisible threat to our house.

The first thing is to accept the current reality as it is that has already changed the way we go about with our business.

So, to start with:


1. Run solo but stay connected

With the latest COVID-19 Bill in place, social gatherings of any size are not allowed at both private and public spaces.

It’s goodbye to those weekends of getting out with your running buddies for now. But running alone does not mean the experience cannot be shared, especially when it can be done digitally or online.

Start a runner’s leaderboard of sorts in a Facebook or Whatsapp group with like-minded friends. Set a goal and reward; say, whoever accumulates the most mileage for the month gets a food treat cash-pooled by the group and sent via delivery services like GrabFood or Deliveroo.

Join Strava if you have not already registered. Sign on and complete the various community sport and fitness challenges. Push yourself to be the fastest on a nearby route that has a leaderboard of resident runners.

Despite the restrictive circumstances of social distancing, keeping in touch with each other is the biggest advantage of an online community of any kind.


2. Outrun anyone who is not a friend – or someone you do not intend to meet

At some point, you are going to cross paths several times with a new person along your usual route. Or bump into a friend who is now exploring that part of your neighbourhood.

Nobody is meeting anyone who’s not part of his/her household (it is prohibited right now if you are not aware).

But with enough familiarity of their latest routine — where and when they would run — and some innocent and brief exchange of pleasantries at a safe distance, why not try to keep in pace with each other with increasing speed?

You can also try overtaking them if you are just starting from the back. And remember your polite “hellos” after sprinting past.

Again, be aware of your two-meter separation and watch out for other park/PCN users.


3. Run to the side of the pathway

From whichever direction you are running from, either stay to the extreme left or extreme right to allow more social distancing from other runners.

Shift sideways from time to time if a slow pedestrian is directly in front of you or when you are trying to avoid an oncoming cyclist. Run onto the grass patch if you encounter a person who couldn’t manage a simple act of social distancing.

Be alert of your situation. There are going to be some folks who will walk in pairs or threes and take up about half of the pathway. Do your best to overtake at a safe distance or divert your route.

Do not run in the middle of the path due to the already restricted width. You are not going to get drafting advantages from that.


4. Unless very necessary, avoid public parks at all costs.

Let’s face it: with a nice mini-lake, pleasant greenery, amenities and the occasional appearance of otters, a public park is a magnet for folks from all walks of life, whether they are exercising or not.

Multiple paths will get clogged with enough foot traffic to render social distancing pointless in the peak hours. Unless you are prepared to brave the hot sun in the afternoon or risk encountering perverts in the late evening, you are better off staying away from parks until COVID-19 transmissions cease.

Image by Terry Tan, 2020.

5. Don’t go to trails – simulate it.

The truth is not many of us live near enough to Bukit Timah Hill to make a one-minute trip to. And the authorities are quite clear about long-distance commute: only go out for essential purposes and stay home as much as possible (refer to Minister Wong’s earlier statement).

Furthermore, drones are already patrolling over BTH while some sections of nature reserves have been closed.

You can run on the uneven grass patch at the pavement’s side to get your trail fix, but that would be like telling an aspiring pro-driver to operate a Daytona arcade machine because he cannot afford a Toyota Supra GT4.

Thankfully, the toughness of BTH hill climbing can be simulated, even if not to perfection.

Simply, pick the highest HDB block in your estate and hike it up with a slew of repeats. Modify the difficulty by going slow at the first half, then speed it up for the last several floors. Skip two steps going up to intensify the climb. Carry a load of sorts — e.g. a hydration vest packed with all your essentials at race-day weight — to enhance the workout. If this is likely to bore you fast, have your earphones tuned to your favourite podcasts and get educated as you toil.

Beware: You may want to avoid HDB blocks which you do not stay at due to the authorities’ actions against loitering. Additionally, you will not be the only one using the staircase and may need to be light-footed on the steps lest becoming a nuisance to your neighbours.


6. Enjoy the process. Really.

The Circuit Breaker period is expected to end on May 4 but that’s depending on what the COVID-19 situation in Singapore will be by then.

For now, it will be a few weeks of staying strictly at home. Most of the time.

With running, you can only go so far to tackling your cabin fever. It’s time to consider the various indoor activities and pastimes you have neglected since you entered the workforce.

Read that book you bought 10 years ago. Watch Youtube to receive free lessons on Python coding. Marie Kondo the heck out of your living spaces. Take up cooking and anticipate the horrified looks of family members sampling your meal.

Or you can just plot your training schedule and goals, scheming a plan to dominate leaderboards across the Strava platform.

Just remember that the period we are in now is temporary. Someday, things will return to normal; road races will happen once more and ultramarathoners will fly off to their next exotic destination in the mountains.

We will slap high-fives again, hugging at finish lines with sweaty arms wrapped around each other and celebrating achievements with such abandon of physical distancing – it’s as if the coronavirus no longer lurks in our midst.

Meanwhile, please stay safe.

Ultra-Trail Australia 2019 (100km), May 18, Sat - May 19, Sun, Blue Mountains, New South Wales, Australia

The Three Sisters rock formation at Blue Mountains, New South Wales, Australia. Image: Terry Tan

IT is already close to 6am and I shouldn’t be deciding right now whether to wear my thermal top. But you usually do in a cold-weather country, a part of my subconsciousness must have been debating with me.

That’s a good point: I did so for past races in Hong Kong and Japan, and now here in Katoomba within the Blue Mountains region of Australia’s New South Wales, it’s a logical choice for a temperature of around 10°C.

Then I consider the perils of getting my base layer soaked in sweat during the daytime of the race, risking hypothermia in the cold night due to wet clothing. The top finally gets sealed in a zip lock bag and kept in my hydration pack.

My concern, though, is more than just about a piece of fabric. With two hours before the start of my wave for the 100km category of Ultra-Trail Australia (UTA), I wonder if I am prepared for this odyssey.

Big deal, which ultramarathoner never have to grapple with his trepidation prior to gun off? But I wasn’t exactly the most methodical of runners, and unlike most of my peers, had almost never gone to Bukit Timah Hill in the last seven months-plus to prepare for a trail race. I life-hacked my training up, running most distances on flat ground and climbing for hours at a 19-floor HDB block near my home.

I expect I could still finish the race but I wonder if I can do so under 20 hours - for that, UTA participants can still get a bronze buckle, if they are not able to complete under 14 hours (silver) or, better still, win the race (gold).

I’m neither going to run any faster or beat all my competitors, so the goal of obtaining the bronze buckle is somewhat realistic.

______________________________

WE are flagged off at 7.54am at Scenic World Blue tourist center after the previous six waves of faster runners have been launched in the past 94 minutes. Almost immediately, we take a left turn to Cliff Drive, passing by suburban houses before u-turning after about 2km to run back the same stretch and through a line of cheering supporters on both sides of the lane.

Before long, we enter a park and head towards Katoomba Cascades, moving on the Prince Henry Cliff trail path en route to Furber Steps which is just at the doorstep of Scenic World facility.

Runners flagged off for Ultra-Trail Australia's 100km race. Image: Sportograft.

Until we reach the 10km mark, the terrain, with its relatively gentle elevations, has been rather kind to our legs. While the rocky sections of Federal Pass track require some cautious footing, I’m otherwise feeling lighthearted as Aussie runners - with their famous, laid-back approach to life - chit chat with each other.

The first test of mettle comes at about 10km, at what’s euphemistically called the Golden Stairs - a very steep 200m climb. After more than an hour since gun off, my body is rudely awakened by this intense, quad-burning push to the first checkpoint, supplemented by a courtesy bump on the head by a boulder on the trail slope.

At 9.36am, I quickly put that episode behind, having arrived at Checkpoint 1 in a still-fresh condition.

______________________________

AS soon as I depart the checkpoint, I begin to struggle to resume my momentum, my body feeling like a troubled car engine starting up. I switch to doing a little more walking at the Narrow Neck Plateau Trail and hope to conserve and shore up some energy for a decently-paced run.

After all, there lies a distance of a near-half marathon 20.2km between Checkpoint 1 and 2. It is not good timing to hit the wall this early.  

Lovein Heng, a petite compatriot from Singapore, catches up, exchanges pleasantries with me and gets ahead with her consistent pacing. As it was in some of my past paces, I have found my hare to pace with. Soon, we would be inadvertently overtaking each other several times as we adjust our speed to the changing elevation.

By the time my body overcomes its little turbulence, the Blue Mountains region starts to reveal its signature vista of mountains and escarpments blanketed by verdant swathes of forests. Although an avid photographer myself, I have chosen, in recent times, not to be distracted by my shutterbug tendencies during a race and instead enjoy the spectacle without yanking out my iPhone.

Blue Mountains region. Image: Sportograft.

At the end of the track, we clamber down between boulders, with one runner being seized by a cramp. A local racer, whom I earlier talked to while running, helps prop the man against a boulder before lifting and stretching his affected leg.   

The rest of us descend to Tarros Ladders, where we join a queue of people waiting to climb steel ladders to the base. “I just want to be sure that I’m not winning [the race],” one lady in the queue jokes with a volunteer taking care of the ladders.

From there, we take an undulating route through a forest at Tarros Ladders Medlow Gap Walking Track. Via W7a Mitchells Creek Trail, we go down smoothly on Bellbird Ridge Firetrail and reach Checkpoint 2 - Dunphys Campground at the 31.6km mark.

______________________________

BY the early afternoon, I continue through the countryside of private land and on course to the foot of Ironpot Mountain. There, patience is the key - in a laborious manner, we navigate up a slope which rises from 600m+ to close to 800m within a span of around a kilometer.

As we are about to crest Ironpot Ridge, we are cheered by an elderly female volunteer seated on a field chair.

Reaching the top of the ridge, we meet three Indigenous Australian men, one of them blowing a didgeridoo windpipe. The solemn drone emitting from that instrument evokes a sense of peace that exists between man and nature; and here we are now, respectfully enjoying the trails in occasionally painful moments.

We move carefully along a narrow neck of raised rocks on the ridge and shortly turn around to go back the same route. This time, we head down a different path, pounding one of those precipitous slopes that demands ninja footing. Feeling like skiing, the descent is one of the fun parts of the race so far.

It is not so delightful after that - following what’s too hard a run down a gentle, grassy declivity, the wall strikes. Almost suddenly, I’m drained of energy, my pace reduced to a tired walk in a matter of minutes.

Lovein has passed me by then, but now I’m coping with a bad patch which feels more overwhelming than anything I experienced before. I try to remedy it with a food bar but my body refuses to up the tempo.

Ultra-Trail Australia 2019. Image: Sportograft.

It is now about 8km left of the 14.4km distance between the last checkpoint to the next at Six Foot Track (46km). A slow climb up Megalong Road takes us on a forest trail path and through a plain where farms or ranches of sorts are situated.

Every few minutes, a runner would run past me as it seems more so that I’m left further in the rear.

At this point, it’s difficult to feel any hope that I could finish the race. I wonder about the high possibility of a DNF, the subsequent wasted effort after having undergone months of training coupled with other life challenges, and the post-race shame. By the time I reach the next checkpoint, I assume I will probably come after the cut-off time.

That pessimism aside, the friendliness of the Aussie trailer runners does not go unnoticed. Seeing my weakened state, many of them ask about my well-being as they overtake, expressing the kind of community-spirited care that I did not (or would not have) experience in other races. If I fail this time, at least this compassion is something good to remember from UTA.

Nevertheless, there is some drive in me to just fight through the wall.

Making a right turn off Megalong Road, I advance to a ‘surprise’ mandatory items inspection booth - where the volunteers check runners for a mobile phone in their possession - and then head to Checkpoint 3 which is at a field.

______________________________

THE sun is starting to set at 4-plus in the afternoon as the weather begins to chill. The break at Checkpoint 3 is much needed for me to gradually put the idea of a DNF behind.

A Coke fill-up in my soft flask and a dress-up in my thermal top, and I’m ready to venture into the coming night. By then, I have come across a few people whom I saw in the morning, including the guy who helped another runner with his cramp and a Japanese couple.

What matters now is that I’m regaining my morale. “Yeah, man,” I holler at a cheering volunteer and exit the checkpoint.

At 11.3km, the distance from Checkpoint 3 to Checkpoint 4 at Katoomba Aquatic Centre (57.3km) is the shortest between UTA checkpoints so far. With the darkness slowly closing in, I switch on my headlamp just as I’m entering a narrow trail through the forest at Six Foot Track.

Soon, we will embark on an arduous climb that rises steeply to around 1,000m within about 5km. The only consolation I can find in this grinder is that the trail and steps here are not too rugged and technical - unlike those at Malaysia’s Cameroon Highlands Ultra where climbing really means scaling the slopes with both feet and hands.

Steps climbing at Ultra-Trail Australia 2019. Image: Sportograft.

It gets easier after we pass that hurdle. It’s all trail till we hit a road, but not before I catch up with - guess who - Lovein herself. After helping her to extract a safety vest out of her hydration pack (all runners must wear a safety vest at certain parts of the race), we continue the most of the remaining distance to Checkpoint 4 on roads, Lovein moving ahead of me.

The roads are welcome by this time, even with the occasional passing cars. Cruising past a quiet neigbourhood of suburban houses, I’m somewhat relieved by this fragment of civilisation after hours toiling in the desolating darkness.

Entering the Aquatic Centre at the 57km mark several minutes later feels a little surreal; I walk into a brightly lit sports hall where tables are set up to offer a buffet of refreshments to starving runners.

Many participants are taking a break or short naps on the floor while some of us head to the center of the hall where drop bags are laid and looked after by a volunteer.

I don’t need much, so I just withdraw one or two energy bars out of my drop bag. I’m also thankful that the volunteers are patient enough to cater to our needs as I have one of them to fill up my soft flask.

But there isn’t much time to waste.

About 15 minutes later, I depart from the hall and back to the trails.

______________________________

BY 7pm, the vibe of running for hours has settled into serenity. It is nothing more than the darkened landscape while my headlamp exposes the grass, trees and dirt ahead of me.

A half-marathon distance of 21.1km stands between Checkpoint 4 and Checkpoint 5 (78.4km) near the abandoned Queen Victoria Hospital. Fortunately, it is not an all-out push to the aid station; a water point is established in the middle of the route at 69.4km.

The next highlight would be Echo Point, a lookout that overlooks the Blue Mountains range and the famous Three Sisters rock formation. Since it is already night anyway, there is not much luck seeing the scenery in perceivable lighting conditions.

After passing a visitor center at Echo Point, we soon come to the Giant Stairway, a 200m descent via some very steep steps. Running is virtually impossible here, but the slow climb down in the company of fellow runners is a good time to catch my breath. Given that we are descending near Echo Point, one of the runners decides to test its namesake by shouting “Hello!”

The lighthearted moments would eventually fade as we go through Leura Forest and contend the endless, ascending flight of steps near Lila Falls and Marguerite Cascades.

The tedious trek up the steps is an exercise in anguish, but we have been warned enough that stairs will be our bane at UTA. On the riser part of a step, a cryptic message was scrawled in chalk across the rocky surface: “Why?”

An inquiry to the runners for choosing to partake in this act of masochism, most likely.

Minutes later, another message appears: “What would Lucy Bartholomew do?” Lucy is Australia’s ultra-running girl wonder who is racing UTA’s 50km category and will compete in the legendary Western States 100 trail race in June.

Despite having now clocked 60m+ in the race, I’m still maintaining a ferocious pace through some aggressive speed-walks - an effective tactic judging by the number of runners I passed.

Along the way, I tail another runner whose plump form would have one fooled that she isn’t capable of mustering tremendous horsepower to fast hike the slopes and overtake many runners. We have a brief chat and I remark that the steps in this race seem as many as those in Hong Kong’s trails.

Once more, we pound the roads until our arrival at the midway water point located at the backyard of Fairmont Resort. The site does not provide as much food and beverages as the main checkpoints, but it offers just enough. With some chips and water to sustain myself, I quickly leave the vicinity to complete the remaining 9km to checkpoint 5.

The uneventful minutes that follow are what happens when you cannot see much in the dark. The official UTA course description states that we are supposed to head to the 14th tee of a golf course, and if that’s the case, I do not have the slightest idea about my location.

Night running at Ultra-Trail Australia 2019: Image: Sportograft.

It’s a near mind-numbing trip of ups and downs, with two key descents at Lillians Bridge and Wentworth Falls before approaching close to the roads leading to Checkpoint 5.

I catch up with Manny, a Filipino runner and, as with some runners I met, strike a conversation with him. As we laugh at our willingness to endure our current predicament, Manny shares that he had to downgrade his initial goal of obtaining a silver buckle after determining he may not be fast enough to reach the finish line. Sensing that I’m picking up speed, he wishes me well before I proceed to take the lead.

A 2km portion of Tableland Road would be the final stretch prior to a right turn towards the checkpoint. I come face to face with a fleet of cars moving slowly on the opposite lane, with some honking in support as they drive past. Meanwhile, my eyes are feeling uncomfortable from fatigue, sweat and the blinding lights from the cars’ beam.

What a sight for sore eyes the big tent of Checkpoint 5 is with its tables of food and portable heaters. Finally here, I’m hungry and cold and in need of both of those things.

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AT 11pm and 78km later, it’s hard to feel any more energetic compared to the earlier part of the race. My stomach - not used to the spartan amount of food ingested over the last 15 hours - is uncomfortably processing the sandwich that I ate and it would not help much to be taking a bigger portion.

My legs are in a near battered state and the cold is intense at the vicinity of the checkpoint. Before the idea of surrendering to comfort gripes my mind, I decide to end my 15-minute break and leave the tent - I have slightly more than a half-marathon to eventually reach the finish line.

I move off on Kedumba Valley Road and into the twilight zone of the night. Unlike other races, UTA, with its more than 1,300 runners, is seldom a lonely race in darkness. Most folks would not be running with no company or no soul in sight for what feels like an hour. In this race, you will soon catch up with someone else (or be caught up) in less than 10 minutes or so.

Evening at Ultra-Trail Australia 2019. Image: Sportograft.

It’s now the going down part that kills - I descend carefully down a very long and steep dirt road, well aware that one sudden acceleration could have my calves seized in a merciless cramp.

And after that, a very steep ascent. There’s no way of going any faster and I’m getting rather irritated by the coughing of the runner who just overtook and is climbing much ahead of me.

A fatigue-induced crankiness aside, I have been doing some serious estimates since leaving Checkpoint 5. It’s a goal that I didn’t think was possible to achieve since my drastic energy drain in the afternoon: could I make it to the finish line at Scenic World in under 20 hours?

Departing from the last checkpoint, I would have close to five hours to complete 22km of the remaining distance. If I could push myself a little harder, I might just be able to finish this race a few minutes shy of the 20-hour mark.

In other words, the coveted UTA bronze buckle may still be within my reach.

How am I going to do that with all these quad-busting slopes, though?

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THE emergency aid station - a simple water-point at a saddle - is the final place of our respite before the end. With only 8.8km left from here, the single digit is but a minor relief. The UTA race course is not about to cede the rest of its territory without throwing in a slew of steep slopes and steps for the finale.

It’s one more long climb up the dirt road with its killer gradient after I left the aid station. This route would lead to the cliff lines of The Three Sisters rock formation and then take us to a part of the road which levels out. At last, walking normally or doing some form of running is possible from here.

Concerned that I may not have much time, I take advantage of the more leveled sections of the trail and start to transition to a slow run. Moving swifter than my pace in the past hour, I’m able to maintain the momentum until my gut is disturbed by a strong sensation of hunger. It’s not worth the risk to continue without food - even with the short distance left to tackle - so I lean by the trailside and consume an energy bar.

At this moment, the rush to make it to the finish in less than 20 hours has turned into a knife fight with time. I have now around 3km and less than 45 minutes to do it - a tight deadline in trail running terms.

Finish line gantry at Ultra-Trail Australia 2019. Image: Sportograft.

I scramble as fast as I could, becoming less mindful of tripping on the rugged terrain. In good time, I arrive at the last hurdle of the race: the slope at Furber Steps with its 951 steps and around 220m of elevation gain.

In the next 21 minutes or so, the race to the Scenic World facility at the top has transformed into a white-knuckle sprint over slightly less than a kilometer of uphill. One flight of steps is followed by another, culminating in a seemingly endless climb which only frustrates me further and threatens to break my pace apart.

I’m getting nearer but my mind appears to be playing tricks with me: have I done a kilometer more to the overall distance of 100km with all these dastardly steps?   

I hold onto my momentum fiercely. My legs are increasingly strained. My anguish is rapidly building up. I’m surprised that I have not swear given the intensity.

And, then I catch sight of faint light on a concrete wall - the external perimeter of Scenic World. It’s now around 3.50am.

Turning around a corner, the sound of human chatters becomes more audible as the facility’s facade comes into view. Ahead lies the short lane to the finish line, and without a second thought, I launch into a blistering dash to the destination.

The run suddenly ends in a joyous collapse onto the ground, the concerned event volunteers surrounding and checking on me. They understand what had just happened, and though I did not glance clearly at the clock on the finish gantry as I passed through or have yet to look at my watch, I know I have done what I doubted could be possible. Somewhere deep within my subconsciousness, I know I would one day reflect and think this race is the best ultra-trail I ever ran.

As I receive a pouch containing the bronze buckle from a volunteer, my assumptions are confirmed: I finish Ultra-Trail Australia in 19 hours and 58 minutes that early morning.

The author crosses the finishing line (100km) at Ultra-Trail Australia 2019. Image: Sportograft.