RUNNING ’ROUND IN CIRCLES, CIRCLES

Contributed by Doug Bartlett, AURA member

Birdy’s Backyard Ultra, 7-10 August 2020, Moodiarrup WA

I had the pleasure of meeting the original hosts of Birdy’s Backyard during a beer run in December 2019. This young couple caught my eye because the guy was wearing one of those printed shirts that looks like a hairy chest with Christmas tree ornaments attached. From a distance it looked like he’d pierced his body and hung ornaments on it. I’d seen the posts for Birdy’s, but hadn’t really understood what it was about. They explained it was a 6.7km loop in their backyard! I live in the suburbs so I was like “What the-?!”. They live on the outer out-skirts of Perth on a bit of acreage, so hence have a decent sized backyard.

So the hairy chest won me over.

In preparation, I decided I should try a loop event. I had run the USWA Haunted Pines which was four 12.5km loops, but at that distance they don’t really feel like loops. So the Runningworks Lark Hill Dawn to Dusk 50km came up (17 x 3.7km loops), and I gave that a crack. Heck it’s hard to keep going, but at the same time it is easy because you know exactly where the aid station is, and what the course is like, when to speed up, when to walk, and when to stop and lean over to rest on your hands, exhausted…

Then Covid-19 came along and all the events were falling like dominoes. Gosh, my morale was plummeting by the day! It was going to be a bleak year if there were no big outrageous challenges to keep me (in)sane!

Then in the middle of the downturn, a post appeared, saying that Birdy’s was still on! The big yellow bird from Sesame Street didn’t catch the virus! Time to start running!

Thursday night, 6 August 2020 and finally it’s time to drive down to Lake Towerinning. The world is green, yellow and blue today. Mixed greens of the forest driving south from Perth, with splashes of yellow from the flowering plants, and then passing Williams with masses of fields spreading yellow in all directions, shining back at the blue sky.

The event has shifted from Birdy’s place but retains the name, giving up a decent amount of elevation for a spectacular run around the (small) lake. The forecast is two degrees Celsius, a cold night for those of use who’ve come in early and setup camp. Because it is so cold, one of the women says she’s going to sleep in her running gear. We have a late start – 10am, but at least she’ll be warm when she gets up. I’m wondering how I’ll cope tomorrow night. How do I stay warm in between runs? Maybe I can hang in front of the fireplace, squeeze in beside everyone else. 

There’s no place I’d rather be. It is not often I can connect to the present like this. Usually thinking about what’s coming up, or the past. Despite the big event coming tomorrow I feel completely here, and now. Awesome.

Last night I was warm in bed at home, my calves twitching away like they do when I’ve been working them hard. This time they seemed to be saying “No! No! No! Don’t run! Don’t run”. But I’ve had this before – and I know they’ll feel awesome once I get a few kilometres on them.

It’s a cool morning, and chatter says four degrees with dew on everything. No wind here at camp so no worries. I’m wearing a T-shirt, long sleeve top, windbreaker, cap, buff around my neck, and usual shorts and runners. We assemble in the corral, keeping our mandatory social distancing. We’re 125 hopefuls at arms’ length. Hopeful we’ll finish whatever target we’ve set for ourselves. Some don’t have a target: “I’ll run until I can’t”. I don’t think that will work for me. I’ve always needed a goal, and even if it gets modified on the run (literally), I still have that goal to reach.

We get started after the ten second countdown, and it’s a great social occasion. Most of us are trotting along at 6.0 to 6.5 minute kilometres, an easy pace for experienced runners. It’s an unusual experience for me: normally in the trail ultras you lose sight of everyone after first few kilometres. But each lap there’s the big bunch of us, all hanging out together. 

Time moves on and we’re onto lap eight. I’m recalculating my goal. Maybe 24 laps was too optimistic. My inner right thigh is much better thanks to some timely sandalwood oil and a bit of compression bandage. It had been feeling very sore, almost like I’d pulled it some days ago. But now I’m getting weird twinges in my right calf. Not the gentle “Hello” you get while lying in bed. No, this is that “Watch it, matey, I’m about to dish out a whole lot of hurt.” So I have to keep dialling back my pace to ease it off.

My mind set is still good. The course has a decent number of distinct sections that are each traversed quickly, so no long slogs on the same stuff. In sequence we have:

• Starting section on a gravel road going past the caravan graveyard. The same road leaving this is very smooth underfoot, and after two kilometres you swing right into the
• Inlet section. With a bit of bumpy dirt this leads to a gorgeous single track through the rushes. This culminates in a floating bridge that almost swings enough to send unwary runners into the drink. Then onto the
• Skull section. Emerging on a large paddock, the trail disappears as we rise over and along the grass. This passes a sheep’s skull mounted on a stick, marking three kilometres. Another sharp turn and into the
• Creeks and Log Section. Striding over two small creeks with one steep step-up, the path meanders along with some single track that disappears now and there in bumpy, muddy bits of rock and branches. The trail rises and then we swoop down past a log and over rocks as we come out at the
• Sandpatch section. There always has to be a sandy bit, right? This is a strange granular sand with plants growing in it, but the stuff is so loose you sink in and end up flicking sand up your legs, and into your shoes. We soon figure out that the better route is to swing left on firmer ground, and follow the rise past the sign that reads “Ignore the Farmer with the Rifle”. As the sun was setting we would have made prime targets outlined against the apricot-coloured sky! This section exits onto the
• Day-tripper section. A sealed road, carpark, public toilets and playground soon gives way to another gravel road and then we’re into the
• Black swamp section. This was referred to as the ‘Blair Witch’ section by one haunted runner. However, I thought this section was stunning. A narrow trail winds through the paperbark trees, with bright green moss and grass each side. Off to the left was a smaller lake with old dead trees erupting from the water, glowing skeleton white in the half-light. Truly picturesque. This delightful section finishes on a small hill about four metres high. It seemed to get bigger each time we reached it. Then
• Run to the Finish. Past part of the campground to the hay bales, timer, food, and maybe a short rest.

Lap 10, and I stop to walk before the single track through the rushes. Ahead of me is a string of lights moving along the spit, a magical fairy land of white lights cast by wraiths in the darkness. At the start of lap four I had placed an order for a meat pie and a mountain dew at “The Coffee Baa“ truck. They’ll have it ready for when I finish my lap. How’s that for service? I could have a pie and a drink every lap, and turn the event into a pie-run contest. Now there sparks an idea…but no, wary of what my stomach wants versus needs, I only eat half the pie and save the rest for the following lap-end.

I took the hint before the race from ultra runner Vlad Ixel’s interview of Will Hayward. Will raced the Backyard Ultra championships and DNF’ed – after finishing 69 laps. The suggestion I took onboard was to eat a little each lap, of foods you’re accustomed to. Having been on a long journey of getting away from bad eating habits, I had prepared myself these food options: Mixed nuts, dried fruit, Superhero muffins, heated chill bean mix (home-made), bananas, avocados, and dark chocolate. For drink I alternated between 50% diluted coconut water, and water with an electrolyte added. In the later laps, I found I was getting more benefit from the race-provided Tailwind than my own option, so I switched.

It is just after 9pm and our lap 12 as we again round the caravan graveyard, and there to greet us with a gentle golden glow is the moon. The clouds that had been covering the sky now retire to the horizon, as if conceding the sky to the majesty of the moon and the 3D display of the Milky Way. I finished after the twelfth lap, having completed just over 80km, my longest ‘continuous’ run. By this time 75 had already DNF’ed, and five dropped out with me. So 44 remained.

9:32am Saturday, and the first of the 13 runners remaining bounces along through the finish line. He’s got a spring in his step like he’s on a Saturday parkrun. For context, he has just finished 100 miles after 24 hours, and he did this last lap in 32 minutes. The equivalent parkrun (5km) would be 24 minutes, a respectable time. The rest of the 13 make their way in, heroes left over from the 125 starters. Most have no ‘bounce’ left – except one crazy guy that manages to do a leap in front of the line for the camera. That’s muscle-pulling stuff on 100 miler legs! The large crowd of family, supporters, DNF’ers and vollies cheer in each of these 13, and although 12 of them are going to get the same wooden spoon as the rest of us, they are still champions.

Music plays for the non-runners, an eclectic mix of rock, dance, and other stuff suspiciously dating from the 90s era. I think the DJ is of a certain age…similar to mine.

Lap 29 and well known entrant Margie Hadley is clearly suffering. She’s in the last four, and showing some strong emotion, although from external appearances she looks like she’s 100%. There must be some serious shit going on inside. Shaun puts on his magic voice, and convinces her to go another round. At the start line she looks as strong and confident as anyone, ready to give the guys a run for their money. I hang out up the trail a bit, interested to see if the last four each run the same ‘out of sight’ as when they approach the finish. Seems so. Michael Hooker paces past, steady steady. Phil Gore comes in, a slower pace but still keeping it together, and then Jon Pendse shows up, walking, then running, still moving. But 55 minutes on, and no sign of Margie. She at last appears, over time, sipping a grateful coffee provided by a friend, coming in to rounds of applause from us all.

It’s lap 31, and Jon Pendse comes in, taking off his bib and saying “That’s it, I’m done.” Not if Shaun has anything to say about it – and so begins a gentle negotiation. Poor Jon – he’s been going for 31 hours, probably with no sleep, and how he’s got to survive an encounter with an enthusiastic race director! The fatigue loses the battle, and there he is at two minutes before the next lap – at the starter line again! Wow! But sense prevails, and as he reaches the caravan graveyard he turns and walks back to the start line. He will be unable to move his legs for five days, he says later while sitting blanket-covered, beer-sipping, but still compos mentis enough to carry on conversations. This is the same guy who won the Delirious W.E.S.T. earlier in the year, completing 200 miles in 70 hours 13 minutes. Incredible.

It is a quarter past seven at night on Saturday. The second night, and we still have two champions pushing themselves to their limits. Michael Hooker and Phil Gore each have their own tactics to complete each lap. They are stunningly, persistently consistent, each finishing their laps within about a minute of their ongoing lap time. There is some seriously clever crewing going on behind their curtains to keep them functioning at that level.

The campsite has large metal rings within which burn enormous chunks of river gum to keep us warm. Off to the side, a small metal pot had some embers in it, and they used this to heat the branding iron. If you DNF’ed you got a branded wooden spoon. That’s right, not just any wooden spoon, a burnt one! It will sit proudly on my mantelpiece, something to tell my grandchildren about. That’s if my two boys ever leave home and start a family.

I stopped ‘early’ because I didn’t want to injure myself before hiking the Cape to Cape (130km – starting that Sunday, but that’s another story). So the learnings from this race were:-

1. Be serious about care for legs and feet. I was too careless and should have started sooner, using compression leggings and/or sandalwood oil, or some other muscle assisting treatment.
2. Figure out how to stay warm and dry. Sweaty clothes get really cold in a fridge-temperature wind, especially when you’re sitting around for fifteen minutes.
3. Just have one event at a time! Not a 50km on Sunday, following by a Backyard ultra, and then go hiking. Seriously!

So for the two big questions that remain, for me: Could I have continued, and will I go back for another go?

Yes and yes.

So bring on the yellow feathers, and run like you used to when you watched Sesame Street as a kid.

I’ll see you on the next lap.

Pictured: Doug Barlett on the far right, Bib No. 49. Photograph – Joe Malcolm/Facebook.