Going into the Narrabeen Allnighter I was mainly worried about the anticipated heat and humidity of a Sydney summer night. I didn’t expect a thunderstorm and persistent rain. I didn’t expect the chafing this would cause. I didn’t expect serious stomach issues. I didn’t expect lighting issues. Curiously enough I never once felt sleepy, which had been another of my fears.
I went along wanting to run 50 miles before the 12 hours was up as part of my training for my next hundred miler. I’m trialling a new strategy of doing longer distances earlier in my build up.
The morning of the race was very hot, like mid thirties. I went for a short walk around the headland at Long Reef and then had brunch around 11am. I called in at the supermarket to top up my race food supplies (ants in my hotel room had got into some of my food) and then went and rested. I managed a nap. Mid afternoon the thunderstorm started and there was intermittent rain. It would seem like the storm was receding and then it would all come back again, thunder, lightning and heavy rain. At 7pm when I left for the race it was raining hard. The temperature had fallen to around 20 degrees.
I got the last spot in the car park at Narrabeen Lake and I was drenched by the time I walked to the race registration because I just wore a hoodie, wanting to save my proper rain jacket for the race. I set out my plastic basket with my food and drink, and by the time the race started the basket had an inch of water in it. Luckily I had ensured my food was well wrapped (against the ants in my room rather than the rain). I had no option but to put on my rain jacket.
It was raining fairly hard as we started out at 8.30pm. It was almost completely dark so head torches were straight on. I saw very little during that first lap; the lap was measured to be an 1/8th of a marathon. I know we started in some bush, then were running alongside the lake, crossed a few bridges, passed some houses, took in a bit of roadside and reached a turnaround cone. Then we came back the same way. The main thing I saw were the mud and puddles on the trail. People were trying to avoid the puddles but that soon became a waste of effort. I wore my rain jacket for that first lap but I was far too warm so I discarded it at the aid station. I unintentionally discarded it into a big puddle so there was no way I would be using it again.
There were lots of aspects of the race that were unusual. For one thing you couldn’t see people’s faces because of the head lights. But you could see their race bibs, which had names. So I knew exactly who was out there running without having the slightest idea what they looked like. It was odd to run without seeing any scenery; I didn’t know if we were in thick bush, if there were beaches by the lake, what the vegetation actually was.
But I certainly got to know the course very well. I was able to predict each landmark. The course went like this (in my head on the way out): run in the bush, run by the lake, round a bend, reach some lit houses and make a sharp turn, long bridge, bit of roadside, parkland, turnaround. Coming back I had more landmarks in my mind: get back to the lit houses (mostly downhill), short bridge which was there for no apparent reason, funny detour around the tree where one side was all water, lakeside, ‘1km to the park’ sign, glow sticks warning of a rock on the trail, wooden railing by the trail, place where you could go on a timber ramp or stay on the trail, open space with route coned, race HQ and start/finish area with timing mats, aid station and toilets.
In brief, thinking through these landmarks kept me going all night. I wanted to do 16 laps but that idea was quite terrifying, the number was too big.
By the second lap I was having stomach problems. There was only one toilet on the course, by the lap changeover, and I didn’t think I could risk going into the bush as I didn’t know if it was penetrable, swampy etc. I hoped the unpleasant sensations would go away. As my third lap came to an end I knew I had no choice but to get to the toilet asap. I made a dash for it, fearing I wouldn’t get there in time, and wondered why there was a man lurking (actually he was sheltering) outside the ladies toilets; turned out I knew him but there was no way I could stop and chat. After this I felt great and it lasted for two laps. Then I had to do the same again. Only this time, after I had already been to the toilet and was setting out on my next lap I suddenly had to double back to the toilet!
Next problem on the list was my head torch. I had thought I had fresh batteries in this one but it was not giving much light. When other runners came towards me I was temporarily blinded and couldn’t see the trail at all. When I was alone on the trail I could see almost nothing and had to rely on there being no obstacles. Also, because my hair was wet, my ponytail was not holding the strap in place properly like it usually does. I wanted to use that light as long as I could because I thought I didn’t have much battery in my other light but after five laps I had to make a change.
This was the high point of my night. Suddenly I could see. Not much because there wasn’t much to see, but I could see the trail a few metres ahead and that made a huge difference. I was no longer being blinded by the others and the moments of total darkness were banished. I got past the marathon distance feeling good.
My tenth lap I was able to run with a friend, Kaz, which was great. She was doing the midnight marathon. I really liked it when that marathon started because there were more runners on the trail, and I recognised quite a few names which was fun. Kaz was running a bit faster than I had been going but I made myself speed up for that lap. That got ten laps done.
After that I was just counting down the laps. I told myself I could stop at 15 as that would be pretty darn close to 50 miles, but secretly I knew I would keep going. I had not been walking much at all except through the aid station, which was probably a mistake. Eventually I had to walk. But somehow I managed to persuade myself to run as much as I could and promised myself I would walk the entire final 16th lap.
The rain came and went all night. Once I was wet through nothing changed much. My shirt was pasted onto my torso. My wet shorts started to chafe on my legs mid thigh, a new experience for me, and I felt some blisters coming on my feet, also unusual for me. From time to time I would think: oh it’s not raining, and then I would forget about it for hours.
I’m not sure if I was eating and drinking enough. Apart from the major toilet escapades I never had to wee. I had two cups of sports drink at the start of each lap and ate some lollies, some watermelon and banana, some pieces of bread with nutella and some chocolate.
It was wonderful when daylight came, during my 13th lap. I coulhttps://i.imgur.com/uyahpXG.jpgd see around me. The bush was such a surprise: huge ferns, palms, bright green everywhere and then beaches by the lake. There was some birdsong. It was still completely overcast but I hoped the rain would now stay away.
I walked a fair bit of lap 15 with someone I knew, then I started running again, apologising for leaving him, but pretty soon he ran past me. Lap 16 was great. I worked out that I definitely had time to complete it. I wanted to walk the outward stretch then run back but I ended up running bits on the way out. At the turnaround I told the marshals I wouldn’t be seeing them again and they said I would have time for one more lap, but I was sure in my own mind I was finishing. All us runners were cheering each other on now as most of us were finishing. I walked almost the whole way back as I just could not run, only running the final 200 metres to the finish mat.
I was so pleased to have made my goal, and gone a bit further, to do 84.39 kilometres, a double marathon. I could have gone on as the clock only showed a bit over 11 hours, as in I had permission to continue, but there was no way I was going an inch more.
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