Archive for the ‘Multiday’ Category
Albany to Perth – 1993
ALBANY TO PERTH, WA – 560KM
To all AURA runners,
Get your running shoes out and enter those 24 Hour runs! I lost interest because there was no Sydney to Melbourne. The present longest road race in Australia of 560kms – the Albany to Perth, is far better, but your only problem will be to get into it. It’s in West Australia and is to raise money for kids and is organised by Channel 7 TV as part of their Telethon Appeal.
This year in the second event, it was from Albany to Perth via the scenic route. The first half of the run was hilly, but worse than the hills in my opinion, was the camber of the road on some of those hills. The race was handicapped to try to get all runners to finish within a four hour period, where a street party was being held in the night club district of Perth.
The field is by invitation only and is influenced a lot by Ross Parker, who would be known by most Westfield runners. Ross is the originator of the event. In 1992, the run was Geraldton to Perth – 8 runners, 4 from the east and 4 locals, with 5 finishers (4 of them from the west). Bryan Smith was the winner, with Joe Record being first over the line.
This year, 9 runners, 6 from the east and 3 locals resulted in 7 finishers (3 from the west). Bryan Smith was again the winner. First over the line was Georgina McConnell. (They are tough in the west. Did you notice 100% finished!)
Why is this race the best? Well, when were you in a run where you had your van and petrol supplied, plus food, accommodation, and transport to and from the event? There were also rooms at towns we passed through where the runners could have a shower and a bit of sleep. Of course it was first come, first served, and I must thank Georgina for warming the bed up for me. Also, the timing of the event is important. The Telethon is run over the weekend, so they start the runners off so that they will arrive on the Saturday.
So you need one week off and you can do the run and be back at work if you need to by the following Monday. I have done two Westfields and 3 Colac races and can say without a doubt that this is at least as good as event.
So get into those running shoes and prove yourself in the 24 Hour races, or find out if Ross is open to bribes. The weather for the race was great and it was a top run.
Condolences to Maurice Taylor who did his hamstring in during a pre-race group start for television, and Wanda Foley, who was a bit light on training, but nevertheless put up a great effort.
George Audley.
The first runner to leave Albany was Wanda Foley, the last Bryan Smith, 31 hours later…, a lot of time to make up in 560km! The course followed the Leewin Way, through the south west, through some of the most scenic country in the south of WA, and more importantly to the runners, the coolest. The big disadvantage was the hills, especially the two between Bridgetown and Donneybrook, one up, one down, but both have to be seen to be believed. They are enormous.
Maurice Taylor had the misfortune to pull a hamstring before the event. The only other casualty was Wanda Foley, who retired with exhaustion. Bryan Smith had the fastest time as expected, and Georgina McConnell made line honours. She ran very strongly over the last day, her crew having to constantly amend her estimated time of arrival. At the start of the day, they expected her to fmish about 10.30pm but she finally made it around 5.30pm! The runners were accompanied by their vans to the Entertainment Centre in Perth. The vans were parked there and runners and crew then ran to Northbridge, the night club area, where Channel 7 had a street party for Telethon. The finish was then televised. Unfortunately, only George Audley and Mark Pritchard made it in for the party. Georgina was too early and the rest were too late!
All press cuttings from the Albany Advertiser by courtesy of George Audley, unless marked otherwise. The Perth press gave very poor coverage to what could become a great race. It was organised by Ross Parker and sponsored by Channel 7 and Hungry Jacks.
Charlie Spare.
RESULTS – FASTEST TIMES
1. Bryan SMITH 86 hours 17 min. 5. George AUDLEY 99 hours 05 min.
2. Tony COLLINS 93 hours 20 min 6. Mark PRITCHARD 100 hours 50 min.
3. Brickley HEPBURN 94 hours 05 min, 7. Ross PARKER 103 hours 30 min.
4. Georgina McCONNELL 98 hours 27 min.
PIONEER 5 DAY FOOTRACE – NANANGO. OUEENSLAND
by Bob Beattie
sole destroying, unforgiving, torturous and mind blowing were just a few names runners used to describe the qruellinq Pioneer Five Day Foot Race held recently in Queensland.
Eleven ultra distance runners headed out on their 330km five day race from Nanango, 180 kilometres North West of Brisbane to trek through some of the toughest terrain the South Burnett region has to offer.
Competitors experienced all forms of road surface’s and weather conditions to test their metal, gravel, bitumen, dirt and mud along with less than ideal weather conditions to match over the five days.
The race is the first staged race in Australia and some runners find it difficult to come to terms with.
Each day the runners are confronted with a new distance after a good night sleep and the mental strength is put to the test by many.
Runners give their respective time they believe they will cover the distance with the runner closest to their time winning the handicap stage with the runner crossing the line first wins the outright winners shirt on each day.
Time are calculated by the official timekeeper and at the completion of the five-days awards are made to the winners, first male, first female and handicap winner and all finishers receiving a plaque.
Runners were confronted with 75km on day one with 80 percent up hill.
Last years inaugural winner Gary Parsons, from Caboolture put a cat amongst the pigeons when he set a blistering pace to unsettle the field.
With ten runners behind him Parsons inched away to be more than two kilometres ahead by the 12 kilometre mark.
With Robert Channels and Dave Holleran sitting on each others ankles behind it was Maurice Taylor who loomed as the danger. With a constant almost regimental stride, maurice Taylor pulled the leading bunch in to head the runners into day one in 7hours and 5minutes to claim the leaders shirt.
Ron Grant finished day one in a tremendous amount of pain after suffering a back strain only two days before the event got underway.
While other runners sat around the camp fire playing the mind game on others as they told how well they felt Grant was searching for the hot water bottles and any other form of relief he could find as he settled in for the night.
Not one to throw the towel in over pain as his previous feats have shown, he continued on the next day starring at 65km. Finding a set of children play monkey bars 15km into the day, Grant hung upside down for 30 minutes in an attempt to relieve some of the pain his body was experiencing.
A further 15km down the track Gary Parsons was experiencinq his own type of pain as his ankle gave under the constant pressure of day one and he sat on the road side visibly shaken at the realisation his race may have been run.
Taking some time to recuperate, Parsons forced himself to walk remaining 35km into the township of Wondai were day two ended. Rekindling his hopes overnight, he continued to contest day three in extreme pain entering Kingaroy with a shoe full of blood from blisters.
Brushing the blood, sweet and teas off and climbing the injury hurdle and disappointment of his setback Parsons complete the race in good spirits and finished fourth overall.
“i thought I had done some terrible damage to my ankle but I did not want to pull out,” Parsons said.
“I needed the satisfaction of at least finishing the Pioneer race even it I walked every step.”
while every runner experienced his or hers good and bad days the legendary Colac potato farmer, Cliff Young was having more that’ his bad days.
The 71-year-old shuffler was, experiencing problems with his feet and taking more than 12 hours to finish the days distance. After three days of troubles and set backs, Young decided he would not start day four in a wheel chair as his crew member had recommended, but take the daunting Bunya Mountain on. The weather, now raining and windy was to Young’s liking and he headed to the finish like a jack rabbit.
Last years day four winner Dave Holleran was again looking to add the Bunya Mountains to his scalp by finishing the day in first place.
It was not to be this time as with an eye of the tiger look about him, it was going to Cliff Young’s time of the race as he finished two minutes in front of Holleran.
“I was just sick of every body passing me so I desired to get amongst it,” Young said.
“My crew member said he would get me to the start in a wheel chair if$I did not pick up.
“The one thing I am sure of is I will not be coming back for a third time.
“Two many of theses race will kill a man,” he said.
A new ultra distance runner of the future was surely unveiled as local Nanango runner Graeme Watts, undertaking his first ever ultra distance event finished in third outright behind race winner Maurice Taylor and Robert Channels both from New South Wales.
Watts showed a touch of arrogance when he threw his hat into the ring with no previous experience, alongside the legends of ultra-distance runners,race organiser Ron Grant, Cliff Young and Maurice Taylor.
Little did Watts know that the challenge of completing the five-day event would require such arrogance.
The 40-year-old grabbed the event by the throat and on each day continued to squeeze a little tighter as he kept his stride short and his concentration high.
Built more like Arnold Schwarznegger, Watts brings a new strength, physically and mentally to the sport.
The unassuming Watts was accepted by his peers and is now destined to become one of the new faces of ultra-distance runners.
With only two woman in the event this year both finished the event in good times.
Lucelle Gladwell and Val Warren continued to push ahead over ever stage of the race with Lucelle winning the female section. The race claimed only one casualty this year with Ray Chatternan withdrawing due to exhaustion on day three.
SOUTH BURNETT 5 DAY PIONEER FOOTRACE
Day 1: 75Kms.
As just reward for an extreme training programme Maurice Taylor is the 1993 winner of the Nanango-South Burnett Pioneer Footrace. Exhibiting experience gained from four Sydney-Melbourne races, a second place gained at Colac 6 Day Track Race 1989 and the ability to concentrate focus for a prolonged time has paid off for this very professional runner. Maury displays an inner calm that belies the burning ambition to win. In a` controlled workman-like manner he traversed the course with nary an upset to his schedule. A troublesome knee injury was firmly taped and quickly forgotten as he set benchmarks for daily runs. Ten kilometres per hour, hour after hour, was his forte. Such excellence deserves much praise. Last year’s race was last year’s news. This is now. In the cool of an inland Queensland morning, the Nanango-South Burnett Footrace shifted into high gear to the crack of a bull whip start.
A flurry of bright yellow sponsored T-Shirts and we were away, running in the rural South Burnett area of South East Queensland. The course would wind along gravelled country lanes near peaceful cattle and dairy farming country and arable broadacre farms which produce the famous Kingaroy peanut and the humble Baked Bean. Finally, a climb through the Rainforest of the Bunya Mountains before a steep drop to the valley floor, returning to the town of Nanango. Five days and 331.4 Kms, eleven Ultra runners with crew, and the experience of recreating the staged foot races of yore.
It was apparent as the day strolled toward noon, that superior training would underline faults in the lesser prepared. Maurice Taylor with Robert Channels in tow soon cleared from the field. Last year’s winner Gary Parsons with Ian Cornelius nicely placed, made up the fleet-footed foursome. Cliff Young shuffling through the dust mid-field with Dave Holleran were followed by much favoured Graeme Watts, an underrated local talent. Toward the tail, along with Ron Grant was Val Warren, Lucille Gladwell and Ray Chatterton.
In humid conditions with little of the forecast cooling breeze, the half marathon and Marathon mileage materialised and disappeared in the slowly settling dust.
The blistering pace set by the leading four: Taylor, Channels, Cornelius and Parsons, had a telling effect on the energy reserves and condition of the runners. At the close of Day 1 soreness and blisters were the badges proudly displayed on feet of iron. The theme of the pioneering spirit was again reflected by the bushland setting of the evening’s camp. Lacking hot showers, air conditioned motel accommodation and the runner’s most needed requirement, the massage table, the limping eleven revelled in the spartan surroundings.
Tent pegs were hammered home to the sound of anguished bodies washed with cold water. Air beds inflated in counterpoint to the aching intake of breath as tender spots were soon discovered.
Gary Parsons, agonising from tight socks irritating the angry scars of operations to remove spurs and remedy an ankle injury. Ron Grant, suffering from a recent work-related injury to his already deteriorating back, pondering his future part in the race. Ian Cornelius, waiting to pounce on the slightest falter of the race leader Maurice Taylor. Robert Channels wishing he had moved his tent further from the snorer to recover in the peace of night. The others subdued, tired, preoccupied with cooking and repairing. Kneading tired limbs, a wan smile of acknowledgment to passing praise from crews. Later, refreshed by a barbecue and fortified with amber fluid, they soon launched into extravagant accounts of hills stretching to the heavens, near-vertical valleys and the quiet beauty of the Australian bush.
Dave Holleran coaxed the group into a party mood with some subtle strumming of his ever-present guitar near his ever-present smoky campfire. The Chairman of Murgon Shire into which territory the race had now moved, Cr Goerge Roberts, gave a very quotable quote: “The campfire yarn is the crucible of Australian philosophy;” Cr Reg McCallum and Cr Alec McIntosh, respective Chairman of rival Shires, Nanango and Kilkivan, told humorous and outrageous stories of each other including the dubious
whereabouts of a hearing-aid; the leading runner of the day and the Handicap Winner were awarded appropriate recognition: Shocking Pink T-Shirts (maybe to match their shocking pink feet?); the evening finishing with a recitation of the morrow’s chosen Handicap times. Robert and Dorothy retired with dreadful thoughts of the snoring to come’ During the night a cooling shower did nothing to muffle the sounds of dreamless sleep.
Day 2: 67.1 Kms.
While the sun had yet to dawn, the rattle of a diesel engine exploded the deafening silence. It signalled the departure of crew following a day long pursuit of Lucille in her chosen sport. The camp came to life. Food high in carbohydrates was greedily swallowed, storing energy for the 67Kms of adventure which included the aptly named Boat Mountain. This detour was a new addition to last years course thus avoiding the infamous ‘muck hole’ which marred the sculptured contours of Adidas and Saucony. In a few hours, a wallow in the mud would prove infinitely preferable to the tortuous climb.
The town of Goomeri was approached with joy as a child’s swing in the local Park was hastily converted to therapeutic benefit. Ron Grant hung like a limp flag from the cross piece whilst crew turned his hips to exercise his spine. The willing athlete then suffered a severe bashing at the hands of Jan Collins, whilst he was supine atop a convenient BBQ table, to complete the therapy. This is sport?? It must be, not another murmur was heard of a troubled back. Methinks the pain was less than the murderous treatment. Just after the half Marathon mark a sudden cool breeze whispered, “Boat Mountain!” The landmark appeared suddenly in the form of an upturned hull, the gangplank a steeply rising twisting snake with a sting in the tail. The final 500 meters bends sharply left hiding the horror of a near vertical climb. The panorama at the top is forgotten as air is gulped in to still trembling limbs.
Ray Chatterton had the ‘Rich and Famous’ treatment from the lady who lives at the top of Boat Mountain. Not just the casual chair for Ray. Oh no. Plastic patio furniture, hot beverage complete with sticky buns and soothing comments of commiseration for this much appreciated chappy. To admit he bunged it on a bit is maybe going a little too far, though his crew swears his eyes were closed with a little smile playing around his parched lips. We wonder if he told her the story of the man with the body of a Blacksmith and the mind of an Ultra runner. Hmmm?
Thoughts of like treatment filled the mind as Murgon peeped through the trees pointing the way to Wondai. The RSL for dinner and hot showers for the body. Meanwhile tragedy was striking the runners. Humid conditions were taking their toll. Dave Holleran usually full of fun, was in a sombre mood as he raced Ian to the finish of the day. Many were now the walking wounded. Gary Parsons forced to walk the majority of the day was in grave difficulty as was Cliff. Concealing obvious distress, Robert and Maurice both mature
Westfield campaigners, professionally talked little of their discomfort. Grace was their strength, endurance their touchstone.
Graeme Watts coming to terms with the requirements of the race, was leapfrogging his way up the leader board. Having a young body, in terms of long distance running, was proving a blessing of which he may have been unaware. Val Warren was surprised to learn she had completed the first two days in two hours less than last year! In the middle was Cliff Young. Still bright, still cheery though the twinkle smothered extreme pain. Quietly confident, Lucille was braving her personal battle with the road, while Ron elegantly dismissed his misuse of playground equipment to contemplate again the devilment of his injured spine. Conviviality was the order of the evening. Hospitality the byword. The Wondai RSL staff outdid themselves over last year’s effort. A welcome light tea prior to a giant supper, as well as an open kitchen for breakfast was gladly provided and much appreciated by runners and crew. “Treat it as you would your own home,” said one of the cooks. One cannot receive more of a welcome than that thought
Day 3: 66.5Kms. Cheerfully, Gary Parsons declared he would start early to walk to Kingaroy. The previous day’s turmoil had given him cause to rethink his strategy. The US Mail slogan flew in my mind: “Through hail and rain, sun and snow, the US Mail will get through.” With a heart bigger than his blisters off he strode into the darkness of early morn.
The ladies headed off with a cheery wave leaving crew to slide behind steaming cups of coffee and piles of bedding.
Last year the runners had to battle interminable rain. Now, a strong headwind prevailed. To those caught running in the middle of the day, the combination of hot sun and strong wind proved another hurdle to overcome. First casualty was Ray Chatterton suffering from a strange malfunction of his inner chemistry forcing him to abandon the race halfway through the day with an erratic pulse. Miraculously, both Ron and Gary recovered to have an excellent day. Both running freely for the first time. Meanwhile Cliff Young had received a beating from the unforgiving terrain. A badly blistered heel needing constant attention during the day saw him shuffle in after dark and straight to the arms of blessed sleep.
Camp that evening was pure luxury. The Oasis Motel was comfortable beds! The Motel meant massage, civilisation and a day nearer the finish!
That night the picture became clearer as Dell Grant recorded the day’s fortunes and the race so far. Graeme had moved up another notch to place overall third, an hour behind Robert. Maurice had an untouchable lead in first place. Would he collapse? Would the Bunya’s claim him? Fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh position became congested as four runners had near equal times. The run up the Bunya Mountains would clear the picture somewhat. Would Ron’s uphill ability be shaded by Dave Holleran’s legendary downhill racing?
Day 4: 57.2Kms.
A strong head-wind and blazing sun coupled with thoughts of the Bunya’s would deter lesser athletes. Not these hardy souls. One by one at determined times they left the haven of the Motel to launch their assault on the journey upward. It never ceases to amaze how the peace and tranquillity of surroundings can alter dramatically as elevation increases. The peaceful hamlet of Kumbia is a desirable village populated by helpful folk. As a major supply point to reprovision for an outdoor camp it provides much in the way of creature comforts. Climb the hill out of town leading to the base of the mountains and one is met with the soaring grandeur of peaks disappearing into cloud. Darkened by the rainforest it wears as a cloak against the bitter cold, the Bunya’s leap at you.
On leaving the highway, the ground immediately starts to rise. Imperceptibly at first. Then sheer cliffs confront the way.
Running down the side of one hill, Maurice passed Ron to be hidden by a bend in the road. A shout wafted back, unintelligible at first. It soon became clear what the shout was for as the bend was navigated. A black strip of tar was smeared down the face of a precipice resembling a dark tear of sorrow. The road went straight up! And UP! An ant looking remarkably like Maurice was actually running up it. His crew frantically looking for a gear lower than first to keep momentum in the car.
Fantastic! Ron shut his eyes and moved forward.
Moving into the rainforested area, the climate rapidly deteriorated. Cold driving rain was added to the runner’s discomfort. A bare-chested Graeme Watts trundled past muttering something about ‘Going for the Doctor,’ as a wary crew kept a weather eye for the leaches.
Motivation ceased to be a concern as the runners battled out the hard yards, grinding the mountain down to size. The rain continued to pour a gentle waterfall path for the sodden feet to tread. The road, the landscape, the mist, became one gray mass of intensifying fog. Through this was the muffled sound of heavy breathing. Lungs gasping for air as the feet sought the road.
Suddenly, flat country. The summit. Unexpectedly, the rain forest gave way to friendly .2o. Australian bush. Birds could be heard whistling in the rain. The finish, a mere kilometre or two away.
The pace freshened, the back straightened. The mind singing hot showers, hot food, warm bed, rest.
Day 5: 65.6Kms.
A cold and crystal clear morning beneath a star studded sky greeted the final day. The famed 360 degree view was resplendent with cloud nestling in the hollows of the valley floor hundreds of meters below. This starry dawn was marred by extremes of side wind. The downhill run being littered with debris from trees and bushes uprooted during the night. Runners had gratefully accepted the organiser’s thoughtful last minute hiring of a house to accommodate cold and tired bodies. Camping in such rain had been out of the question.
The issue of supremacy had still not been answered. Though Maurice’s overall lead was unassailable the tussle between Graeme Watts and Robert Channels during the day was riveting. The lead changed constantly. At this level of competition any un-scheduled call of nature; drink stop or urgent medical attention was promptly penalised by the sight of the disappearing opposition. Further ahead, Ron Grant was chased with the nagging thought of Dave Holleran snatching the overall Handicap Win. So close were they in terms of predicting their daily handicap time that their final cat and mouse tactics stirred thoughts of a mobile chess game. Stopping well short of actually sitting down in the road to bleed unwanted time from their passage, the rivals had crew performing incredible arithmetic calculations. This involved intense scrutiny of run sheets, dividing fractions of kilometres into an understandable time sequence, and humorously, running backward to confuse the opponent into thinking they were running astray. All performed within the widespread feeling of camaraderie. In the midst of this orchestrated but serious rivalry, Lucille Gladwell was trundling along to a well deserved pink Day 5 handicap winner’s guernsey. Aware of but untroubled by the unfolding drama, husband Mark was timing and controlling her superb run home. A just and sporting gesture was displayed when the trio ran the final few meters, with hands held entwined and aloft, to the Finish Line.
No more wuld be heard the prayer, “Oh Lord, if you pick my feet up, I PROMISE I’ll put them back down!”
