The 1993 London to Brighton Road Race
(by Kevin Tiller)
Me and my lovely wife, Dawn, were planning a trip to the UK to visit relatives and friends – our first trip back since coming out to Oz almost 4 years ago. We picked September for no particular reason and booked our plane tickets. I then thought that as we were over there we might as well look for a race to run. I’d vaguely remembered the London to Brighton being on at vaguely that time of year. Some investigations turned up with the date of 3rd October. Our tickets out were for the 2nd but this was easily changed till the 4th. “Contacts” managed to get an entry form to me, which was sent back to the UK before the deadline and I was in !
1993 saw me running just about as much distance as I my body could stand, whilst still keeping some speed work in there. I ran 6 standard marathons or ultras in the months preceding the race as well as short stuff including a 10Km pb of 36:06, a 1:21 half marathon and a 2:49 marathon in late August just before my departure. I was well impressed with this form and knew that I was in shit-hot shape. My training of at least 100Km a week, but most often 120-130 Km with a high of about 160Km since the previous December had paid off handsomely.
After my 2:49 I caught a bad cold, moved house and went to UK and spent 4 weeks dashing up and down the country with heaps of late nights. My steady routine had been decimated and in the 4 weeks prior to the race I ran about 5 or 6 times, mostly with my coming-backfrom-injured wife. My longest run was for 2 hours the Monday before the race !
The morning of the race dawned dark and cold (as it was England). I picked up my race number and bought a T-shirt in a small backstreet around the corner from Big Ben. I had a poo in a corner of a car park (that’s for Dale Thompson but the rest of you won’t be interested). Most of the runners looked like 50 or 60 year old poms who wouldn’t even make a standard 42Km marathon, let alone double that. Walked. around the corner and up the road a bit. At 6:59am some mounties stopped the traffic and close to 150 runners jumped the barricades and prepared for the off.
We started on the 7:00am chimes from Big Ben and I had trouble running slowly (as usual) – I ran with the lead group through the first few miles before easing off slightly to make 10 miles (16Km), around Croydon, in 11th place in 1:07:47. I was running with a few fast South Africans and a couple of Botswanans. They had flew in on the Friday to run on the Sunday and fly home again on the Monday ! Alf Field, President of the Striders appeared briefly by the roadside to take a photo and then buggered off quickly. (Was I hallucinating ?). I continued, anyway, and slowed down a bit and made 20 miles (32Km) at Redhill in 17th place in 2:23:44.
By now the sun was up. I’d been in England 4 weeks and it had literally rained every day but one. Today was a stinker. Just my luck. My support crew would have been a big disaster, had not my wife
been there and knew exactly how to look after me. My father drove and thought initially all he had to do was drive to Brighton to pick me up. I said that he had to stop and give me drink and bananas and cheer me on. He thought every 10 miles would be OK until I said that every 2 was more to the point ! My mother-in-law came along to watch this peculiar form of self-destruction occur before her eyes and as it turned out she probably came away the most satisfied…

I estimate the marathon mark flashed by in about 3hrs 10mins, and 30 miles in 3:48:06. I had now slipped back to 25th place. There was a reason for this – my legs had seized up and I could barely stand up let alone run. My Dad shouted out “Hey Key, have you passed anyone yet ? They all seem to be going past you !”. I answered truthfully “Yep, there was a Botswanan lying back there on the kerb. He’s a goner”. Anyway, it turned out he was the only one I passed all day. All the old codgers came past just like there was no tomorrow.
It felt lonely out there, but I could always see a few other runners ahead and there were more than enough running by, and they were a friendly bunch although no-one got much more than a grunt from me. The support vehicles yelled out their support as we leap-frogged each other. Hell, it was actually quite a nice day and we went through quite a few sleepy English villages. Although the roads weren’t closed to traffic, cars were never a problem.
Being a Strider, I continued to try my hardest and slog it out but I must confess to gross failure – I walked before I’d even dropped dead, just around the 40 mile mark in 5:29:40, a distant 34th which was a long- way from the front of the pack by now. This bodily breakdown was probably due to my enthusiastic starting pace and I was now running exactly how Dawn had predicted about 15 miles back ! I scanned every horizon for each and every 5 mile mark. Five miles is a long way to run for a cup of water and a slice of orange but at least I could convince myself I was that bit closer to THE END.
The last half of the course is surprisingly hilly. Even the race director had said “hilly” knowing he could not get away with that old trick-word “undulating”. The worst was yet to come, the 50 mile mark being on top of a hill, the highest point in the race. It was called Ditchling Beacon (part of the poorly-named South Downs). We’d been warned of this prior to the start, for it was a mother and it went up, uP and UP ! There were quite a few supporters here, as the view was good, and you could be guaranteed to see some real basket-cases coming up the road. I made the top in 7:27:45 for 41st spot and was told the other classic lie which I didn’t ever believe, not even for one minute : “It’s all downhill from here, mate”. I looked up, said nothing and shuffled off. Down the road I nearly wept. “If that’s true then why can’t I see the sea yet ? Why is there another valley and WHY DOES THIS ROAD GO OVER THAT F’ING HILL OVER THERE !!!”
Years and years of Sunday morning 30Ks came into their own as by now my brain was so fried by the sun and the rest of my body was so wretched and torn that I did the only thing I knew how: I huffed and I puffed and I shuffled and staggered all the way to the top of the next hill. From here, I could see the sea and it was a lovely blue and I could see the road and it was down all the way and I shuffled as fast as my little legs could damn well carry me.
I screeched down the road into Brighton and headed towards the sea as if nothing could stop me; everyone yelling out “Good on Ya”, “Come on Aussie” and then I turned the corner to hear “Kevin Tiller.. Sydney Striders” and then I stopped and I didn’t even care about the time anymore or my position because it was all over and I had finished. I could stop running. I couldn’t sit down because my legs were all done in but at least I could stop.

Male Results

1. Stephen Moore 6.07.22

2. Russel Crawford 6.11.49

3. Stewart Peacock 6.17.39

Female Results:
1.    Carolyn Hunter-Rowe Pudsey AC (UK)    6:34:10
2.    Hilary Walker    Serpentine RC (UK)    7:23:36
3.    Patricia Bonner    Finch Coasters (UK)    10:04:53 (u n of f icial)
Notes:
1.    Total race distance is 55 miles (88Km).
2.    Carolyn Hunter-Rowe had recently won the World 100Km championship in Belguim and Hilary Walker had just set the course record of running from Lhasa to Kathmandu (approx 14 days). I was well impressed by this.
3.    Hilary hosted an overseas runners’ get-together the Friday evening before the race at her house just a stone’s throw from Harrods. South Africans outnumbered all other nationalities put together.
4.    The official time limit is 9hrs 30mins but you can unofficially finish after this as long as you don’t complain if you get run over. You can’t complain if this happens before 9hrs 30mins either. Official finishers in 1993 numbered 79.
5.    Entry forms are available from John Legge, 21 Station Road, Digswell, Welwyn, Herts, AL6 ODU, England. Telephone (043) 871 6508.
Race date is 1st Sunday in October (approx), closing date is likely to be around 1st week of September and it costs £15.

MANSFIELD TO MT.BULLER 50KM ROAD RACE
SUNDAY 30TH JANUARY, 1994
by Dot Browne (Race Director) – Peter Armistead (Race Organiser)
The air was cool and foggy at /am as the runners assembled just out ot the town ot Mansfield. This event was being held for the fourth time, and was originally initiated by Peter Armistead. We had 20 starters, all looking keen and a little nervous. There were 4 interstaters, and 2 from Shepparton Running Club.
The Mansfield Police rolled up just before the gun went, and nearly skittled a cat as they accelerated off. It flew out at an angle from under the wheels giving a howl of protest. The cat had previously made itself very much at home by investigating runners’ cars where the doors had been left open. A real sticky-beak. It was lucky it didn’t get an unplanned ride to Mt.Buller (or to heaven!)
The mountain ranges in the distance looked beautiful, blue and misty, with Mt.Buller rising dauntingly behind them. As the race started, the greyhound, Kelvin Marshall took off fast leaving the rest of the field strung out behind him along the undulating road, with the cows from the neighbouring paddocks hanging over the wire fences and staring interestedly at the runners as they passed by in the cool air.
Robin Anderson drove the lead car, Laurie Black was the sweeper, and Ross Shilston and Dot, Col and Mike Browne bunny-hopped the course to provide 5km drink and food stops along the way. I reckon Laurie’s driving must have been a bit suspect, as he was breathalysed by the police during the event! Fortunately he had not totally written himself off at the Mansfield pub the night before, so he survived unscathed. Some of the runners had their own support crews as well, so they helped at drink stops while the team recorded split times. Peter Nelson had his own miracle mixture in cream bottles on the tables. We wondered what the hell it was. It was baby Farex. It worked. He started off at the back of the field and picked up a few places in the second half. Peter and Becky Feldman gave everyone plenty of encouragement along the way, riding 40km of the the course on the tandem bike. A top effort.
We had stipulated a 3hrs.15min cut-off at the 30km mark, to save us having to stay the night on the mountain. We were happy to record that every one of the starters made it through, with Peter and Barbara Allen going through right on the 3.15.
Kelvin Marshall led the field until 30km, when the eventual winner, Greg Wilson caught him and led for the rest of the race. As the mist cleared, the temperature rose and resulted in a clear hot day, around 30 degrees – typical Mansfield weather. Support crews waiting around for runners after the 30km point noticed the bitumen starting to melt and were driven mad by man-eating march flies.
Runners all struggled on the final 16km up the mountain to the summit. It’s a long winding section, at times shaded by snow-gums but very steep in parts – a real gut-buster. Around 40km, a few of the runners took a slight diversion to cool themselves under a gushing waterfall off the side of the road. The last 400m is the worst. Runners had to clamber over huge angled rocks to touch the stone cairn right at the summit. Just what they needed after nearly 50km of torture.
Bob Harlow from Canberra ran a fantastic first ultra. He paced himself really well to run conservatively on the flat but pushed it up the mountain to pass several runners and place second. An amazing effort. Geoff Hook and Pete Armistead, coming back from periods of non-running and feeling their lack of miles, were happy to fmish. Liz Feldman, in her first ultra, amazed herself by surviving the 50km very well and winning the women’s race. Pete reckons 50km is definitely her distance. Ken Matchett, at the ripe old age of 72 years again survived the distance. An amazing man.
At the presentations in the pub near the finish, trophies and certificates were distributed and Greg Wilson was lucky enough to collect a large punching bag and gloves, donated by Peninsula Martial Arts. An unusual gift.. It was the second time that he’d won the event. Another 7 competitors won AURA tee-shirts as spot prizes as a result of Robin Anderson’s sponsorship and everyone went home happy.
Thanks to my great crew who helped organise the race on the day, to my old mate Pete Armistead for initiating this popular event, and to his long-suffering brother Wayne and his wife Marilyn who accommodated us all over the weekend in Mansfield.

MANSFIELD TO MT BULLER 50KM ROAD RACE, SUNDAY 30 JANUARY 1993
by Bob Harlow M45
I have heard many stories over the years about the 90km Comrades Marathon in South Africa. But fellow Canberran Trevor Jacobs was the first person I knew who flew to South Africa last year solely to do the run, and his stories of the run inspired me to give it a go. Last November I decided to try to get in some longer races in the hope of doing this year’s Comrades. At Trevor’s suggestion I joined AURA.
In the December issue of Ultramag there was an entry form and description of the Mansfield to Mount Buller race. Although I did not know of any Canberrans who have competed in it, the distance and date suited my training program.
My wife, Carolyne, and I drove to Mansfield the day before the race, with me constantly nibbling on rice salad and fruit. Mansfield is near Lake Eildon, an hour and a half north east of Melbourne and 6 and half hours drive from Canberra. We stayed at a motel built around a former convent and designed to cater primarily for skiers in winter. Thankfully we booked a room with a kitchenette and took our own pasta and sauces: Mansfield’sculinary offerings are very limited. After checking out the starting point for the race on the edge of town we had an early night, noting that the forecast for the next day was for a maximum of 30 degrees.
Sunday morning dawned fine, clear, still and foggy. I had eaten so much on Saturday that I could fit in no more food, contenting myself with plenty of water. The pre-race instructions advised that we had to be at the start at 6.30am, half an hour before the race. We arrived there a minute or two early to find it deserted and deathly quiet in the fog. Just as I was starting to wonder whether the race had been cancelled a cavalcade of 6 or 8 cars arrived.

The race director, Dot Browne, completed the pre-race formalities, which comprised marking off runners names – there were no chest numbers. A police car to lead the race for the first few kilometres arrived right on lam, Dot took a photograph and called out “Go!”: we were off.
The road was straight and flat, running between dairy farms. The air was cool and, shrouded in fog, the first half hour was pleasant, easy running. My race plan was to start very conservatively, as I knew that the last few kilometres climbed up the 1809 metre Mount Buller. A pack of runners disappeared into the fog in front, with a single figure leading.
I chatted to a bloke who had run the race a couple of times. He described the difficult terrain towards the end which further encouraged me to run carefully in the early stages. His pace was a little slow for me, so when I required an on-road toilet break I moved well ahead. The sun broke through the fog, directly over the road in front. The ghostly runners ahead in the fog were a marvellous sight.

As I went through the l0km drink station, in 46 minutes, the fog was lifting. There were a few trees along the road, but with the sun directly ahead, there was no shade. The road was now gently undulating.
I could see another runner 100 metres ahead and decided to catch and run with him. He was Russel Weavers, one of several runners from Shepparton. We chatted constantly as we ran together to the 25km drink station. He planned to run only to the bottom of Mount Buller, 32km, to see how the race was organised. Russel is the inaugural organiser of a 50km race near Shepparton in October this year. Because of the lack of shade and the low hills over which we were running he compared it unfavourably with the Shepparton Runners course. I took the opportunity of telling him about forthcoming events in Canberra.
There were drink stations every 5 kilometres, with extra unmanned stations on the climb up the mountain. In addition to the water available, Carolyne gave me premixed drinks from the 15km station. These were made from Energise, a sports drink available in Canberra. The result was high in rapidly absorbed carbohydrates which gave me a quick and long-lasting lift and was not too sweet.
At the 25km station Russel dropped back to talk to another Shepparton runner whom we had caught up to. From there I ran by myself. The road now ran over a series of low timbered hills with Mount Buller standing out menacingly in the distance. We passed the village of Merrijig and Timbertop School. It was becoming increasingly hot and still with no shade. I overtook a couple of runners who quickly dropped behind.
I passed the gates at the entrance to the Alpine National Park and the climb up Mount Buller began. At an average grade of about 1 in 10 it was not especially steep, but it was unrelenting. A kilometre or two from the gates I overtook curly-haired race organiser, Peter Armistead. The shade from the heavily timbered countryside was welcome and the views soon became stunning. I called to Carolyne to give me drinks every 3-4 kilometres but still did not feel dehydrated or particularly tired. I tried to maintain a steady pace and Carolyne told me that I was fourth with the lead runner less than 7 minutes ahead. As I went through one of the many hairpin bends I could see the next runner on the road above me.
My goal now was to come in the first three and I was confident I could do it. We turned a sharp corner and there above me were the ski slopes and the mountain top. As I approached the village I overtook Kelvin Marshall. He encouraged me to catch those in front as they were being given frequent drinks from supporters while he was doing it unaided. I was a little embarrassed when, as he finished speaking, Carolyne arrived to give me the last premixed drink.
Into the village I struck a T intersection with no direction sign. After a moment’s panic I turned right, towards what appeared to be a higher rising road. After 100 metres I looked around to find that the alternative road was definitely lower than the one I was on.
There were now tourists on the road, appearing to be walking to the summit. I passed the 46km station which was also the finish line. Ian Clarke was ahead, going slowly up the hill and turning frequently to look behind him. The road became gravel. I was only 50 metres behind Ian as the road flattened for the first time on the mountain. Ian picked up his pace. The road ended in a small parking area and we continued up a very steep track to the rocks at the peak. As Ian walked up the track I kept jogging slowly and overtook him. At the top of the track I looked back to see that he was already 50 metres behind.
I took the liberty of walking a few metres before jogging to the rocky outcrop at the top. As Greg Wilson passed me on the way down he yelled to me to continue to the summit. The rocks were extremely difficult to climb after such a long run. Then I saw the cairn marking the summit, with a race official and his list of names to cross off.
With a sense of relief I touched the cairn, yelled out my name and started back down. My calf muscles started to cramp almost immediately, but loosened up as I jogged slowly down the steep track. Ian groaned in pain as I passed. While rolling down the hill to the finish I indulged myself by looking at the magnificent views over the mountain country to the east and north.
The welcome at the finish line was warm if small in numbers: there was Carolyne, a race official, Greg Wilson and his wife. The finish was at the entrance to a hotel. After resting a few minutes and tucking into the ample fresh fruit provided I asked at the hotel if I could have a shower. Unfortunately the management had not been warned and no showers were available. As we cheered in runners we satisfied ourselves with cups of coffee before facing the long return drive to Canberra. Carolyne and I were sorry to leave before the presentation and the opportunity to thank the organisers and helpers for a great race.
Both my time and my position were better than I had expected, probably due to the frequent drinks of Energise and my conservative race plan. I was also delighted that my legs recovered sufficiently for me to race 10,000m on the track 4 days later. I hope to run the race again.
Dear Dot,
I thought I would drop you a quick note to thank you again for organising and directing yesterday’s Mansfield to Mount Buller run.
It was a terrific course and the drink stations and other runner support were comprehensive. The weather seemed hot to me, but it is rather inevitable at this time of year, and I understand it was not nearly as hot as last year. As must have been obvious to you I was delighted with my first ultra run. I have little leg speed and must rely on either outlasting other runners or maintaining a better pace on the climbs.
I also wish to apologise for not staying around for the formal presentation. Although Carolyne and I left Mount Buller at about 1pm it was not until 8.30pm that we arrived home in Canberra. Next time we will arrange to take the Monday morning off from work to allow us to stay on and enjoy the post-run camaraderie.
Thanks again for organising the run.
Yours faithfully,
Bob Harlow

1988 Westfield Run Results

1988 Westfield Advertisement

1988 Westfield Newsletter Edition 1

1988 Westfield Newsletter Edition 4

1988 Westfield Newsletter Edition 5

1988 Westfield Newsletter Edition 7

Road to Glory – 88 Westfield

Dick Tout – A Professional approach

Tomoya Takaishi

Kevin Mansell

Marty Sprengelmeyer

Crewing in the Westfield

The Directors View

Medically speaking

This appeared in Australian Runner.  Australian Runner were always a great supporter of the Westfield Run during it’s life.

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.