The Snowy Mountain Ultra

Before I ran Coast to Kosci, everyone had told me how amazing it was to run through the Snowy Mountains, but as I mentioned in my description of the race, I didn't quite get my pacing right to appreciate this, and so ran through Jindabyne at about 1:30am, ie in total darkness. To make up for this, one of my friends suggested I go down for the weekend with him to run the Snowies Ultra, in order to actually appreciate the beauty of the area. I wasn't sure that I was really up for the race itself (especially as it was the same friend who'd suggested the bike ride to Forster.....though I thought I'd give his suggestions a second chance!) but jumped at the chance of a weekend away visiting an (almost) new area.

The Strzelecki Monument

We went down on the Friday after work and so kicked off the weekend with a cheeky run at Jindabyne parkrun. This is a double lap, out and back course past the Strzelecki Monument along the beautiful lakeshore. I started off feeling OK for the first km or so and found myself working my way up to the pointy end of the field, but as I had no clue as to the pace that I was running, I figured that everyone was holding back to save themselves for the Trail Festival on the next day. Unfortunately there was no-one in front of me when I got back to the start ready for the second lap, so I made a slight navigational error in thinking that I had to run down towards the finish flags before turning back rather than just doing a 180 round a marker flag. At the time it didn't bother me in the slightest, and I had no issues with being overtaken on the second lap, but when our results emails came through and I saw that I'd missed the ladies' CR by a mere couple of seconds, I could have kicked myself....but then again, I am my own harshest critic!

The first lap of parkrun

The rest of the day was spent sightseeing (I have to say that visiting Thredbo is rather a non-event out of ski season!), registering for the run, and generally carb-loading (yummmmm!!!!).

Suddenly having no-one to follow!!!

It was an early start to drive up to Crackenback Resort (the event hub) for the silly o'clock briefing (in the dark), where we were handed masks and asked to board the buses that would take us all the way back down the valley to the start line.  The usual limited number of female toilets meant that several of us almost missed the race start as we had to get running at a decent pace just to make it into the starting area in time - I'm not sure that being out of breath is ever a good look on a start line!! 

We all set off across a rough field (well there was a narrow path to follow but it was single track and so by far too narrow for the number of runners there) through some long grass but eventually ended up in single file on the winding path that led through the trees up and down many climbs and round sharp corners and hairpins along the riverbanks back up in the general direction of Crackenback. I found myself running along in a train of people which I really didn't like, not just because I'm really clumsy and so like to be able to see where I'm going and what is coming up ahead of me, but more because the line of people behind me pressurised me into running at a faster pace than I wanted to go and I worried that I would not be able to complete the distance. 

By the time we'd covered about 5km, I was running in my own space at my own speed, and was feeling comfortable and so actually over took a few other single runners, both men and women, and then worked my way gradually past a couple of groups (as it wasn't the easiest thing to pass people on the single trail whilst looking out for rocks and other obstacles). It was lovely to feel as if you were just out for a nice weekend run by yourself winding through woodland as the sun came up and the temperature gradually increased....it reminded me of some of the places I used to run at home and it was nice to only be able to see really short sections of the trail ahead due to the twists, turns and geberaly bush overgrowth  :-)

After about 20K we came to Crackenback Resort for the first time - to be fair it was after about 17K, but then we seem to be sent round the houses on a tour of the resort and grounds on paths and bike trails, but it did mean that we got some cheers as we passed accommodation areas, and then again as we passed by the general finish area (and start of the shorter runs). Surprisingly enough, I seemed to be running fairly well coming into this checkpoint as I passed several people whilst running round the resort, including a lady who looked amazingly strong and had been way out of sight the whole time up until then.

The first time we saw the finish line....and had to run past it!!

After passing through the event Hub, there was a nasty steep hill to climb and so I lost all my momentum and mojo, and could only watch the backs of guys disappearing into the distance in the next few hundreds of metres of technical rocky single track usually frequented only my mountainbikers, but luckily this didn't last forever as it soon opened up into more runnable paths and so I could catch up to the guys again. We were all going slightly different paces and so the chain was quite brief and I was back to running on my own. It was starting to heat up and I felt myself flagging so I broke the run up into sections in my head - get to the 10K turnaround, then get to the half marathon turnaround, then lookout for the lead runners coming back. Each "segment marker" did take a while to appear so I used some of the "undulations" as nutrition breaks, being fully aware that I really needed to make myself eat and drink more. Each time we crossed over the river, the bridges seemed to get steeper and steeper, but passing through the various turnarounds was quite encouraging as I learnt that I was actually the leading lady and had just snuck into the top 10 overall......though I thought that I must look like a wreck compared to the men I saw flying back towards home with apparent ease!

After crossing the umpteenth humpback bridge, I came across a marshal who directed me back down the far side of the river and told me it was 100m to the turnaround so (although it turned out to be a very very long 100m) I declared my undying love for her on the spot!!! The little trail opened into a grassy clearing and as I saw a man running towards me on my right, I headed over to the left towards the people I saw sitting around supporting the runners. Left was not the right way to go so I was called back by the turnaround marshal, but eventually I got there. I did take a proper break there to pour water over my head, fill my bottle, drain it and then refill it before heading back off, but I figured that losing a place in the field to one of the male runners was definitely worth some time for self-care!

Any lift I felt about now being headed for home soon faded as I was definitely flagging (due to the heat and to tired legs) but it was nice to be able to see runners going in the other direction and mutually encourage each other. I tried to do some maths and work out what kind of lead I had on the next few ladies, and whether my many walking breaks would mean that they were likely to catch me before I got back to the finish (I always presume that no-one else is flagging as much as I am!!!). I stopped at every aid station on the way back, sometimes for longer than planned as there was only one water canister as each place and people on the outward leg of both the ultra and the half marathon event were wanting to fill up (and I did actually get told off by one marshal for not using the hand sanitiser after filling up my bottle as well as before....so you can just imagine what queues ensued!).

I don't remember feeling that happy at that point!!

All of a sudden people going the other way started to tell me that "you've nearly got her" and that "she's not far ahead"....and I couldn't work out what they meant as I knew (both from earlier comments and from watching other runners going to/from the turnaround point) that there were no ladies in front of me. Not long after that I spotted a woman running ahead of me, but I figured that she must have just been unlucky enough to have gone out for a trail run at the same time as the races were being held. When I caught up to her I saw that she had a number pinned onto her chest and so I asked her which event she was in, thinking it was odd that I hadn't as yet seen any other half marathon runners. When she told me that she was doing the 50K, I suggested that she had accidentally missed the correct turnaround, but she replied that she'd just been there. Unfortunately, the turnaround I'd not long run past was for the half marathon, which meant that she'd actually missed 8k (4k each way) of the Ultra course. It wasn't going to affect my result as I was travelling faster than she was, but I let the marshals know at the next check point and also at the finish, as I thought that it might significantly affect some of the other ladies who should otherwise be on the podium.

In the last part of the race I was really worried that I'd gone the wrong way, despite not having seen any turnoffs. There was nobody in sight either ahead or behind me, and I could not see any route markers, yet I could hear people running in the other direction almost parallel to me but through some thick bushes. Luckily, just as I was starting to panic and wonder what to do, I turned a corner and found myself running along some bollards that separated outgoing and incoming runners. I knew that we were going to be sent on another tour of the resort before finally getting to the finish line, and that I would be much slower round it than when I'd gone that way earlier - but in my mind it was only a couple of kms. 

Why do they make the podium blocks so high
at the end of an Ultra?

Trying to reinforce my belief that I'd almost made it, I asked a lone marshal if I was almost back, and nearly committed murder when he told me I had "about 5km to go". As it turns out my memory was more accurate than his comment but those last couple of kms did involve a couple of short sharp hills (that I walked up). All of a sudden I could hear the MC at the finish line, and then I was running down a narrow track, crossing a road, along a field and over the final road before "sprinting" up the last grassy slope to the line! 

I was so happy to have made it in one piece that I completely missed the "Man from Snowy River" on his horse until I was asked to pose for a photo with him. I was luckier than I thought to have finished when I did as it was "only 34 degrees" and those out for longer had to bear another couple of degrees so the medics ended up treated lots of people for heat problems (including those who'd run the shorter distance events too) as well as many people who'd tripped/stumbled/come a cropper on course (I'd managed to get away with just rolling the same ankle I'd rolled in Tassie a fortnight before).

A trophy and a wreath!

All in all, race conditions were a lot tougher than I'd expected (I thought it would be cool in the "Snowy Mountains"!!) but I was glad I'd made the trip down as it was a beautiful place to run, and who can argue with a cheeky unexpected race win? 

Cradle Mountain Run (well....kinda run...)

I may have just had a low mileage week in running terms, but the crazy bike ride definitely meant that I was still feeling rather dead in the legs and low in energy in general as I boarded a plane to return to Tassie. On my last trip Iestyn had suggested the Cradle Mountain Run as being one for the bucket list, and when a place came up on it (numbers are limited to 60 per year, due to the National Parks restricting the number of people using the trail every day) a few days later, I couldn't resist. 

The Overland Track

He had sold it to me as a fun run along the Overland Track from Cradle Mountain in the north, to Lake St Clair in the south, which is about 80K in total......but when I got there, I realised that it was actually a serious race - oops!! Still - at least we agreed that we wouldn't take the racing aspect seriously and just enjoy a good long day out running, chatting and generally catching up (and as he'd done it several times before, I'd have my own private tour guide!!). I'd managed to beg/borrow/steal all the compulsory kit from various friends (and there was a lot....including 3 tops, 2 sets of bottoms, a survival bag, a map, compass, snake bandage and so on) and attach it somehow to my only decent running pack, which was rather too small for such an undertaking. 

Morning roll call

The Tassie weather that evening and overnight did show why there was a need for so much compulsory kit as it absolutely poured down with rain (complete with rolling thunder etc), but luckily had just about stopped by the time we gathered (in the dark) for the 5:30am roll call. The first section was on boardwalk heading downhill and as I didn't really trust my shoes to grip on it I hung back slightly as people surged off at 6am. Luckily Iestyn was the person ahead of me (allbeit with a large gap between us) but I did keep apologising to the guys behind me for "slowing them down". They were lovely and assured me that if they'd wanted to go faster then they would have set off further forward in the field.

Boardwalk-tastic...

We soon started climbing up....and the climb involved both large steps (some wooden edged and some rocky) and metal chains, which took me slightly by surprise, but everyone assured me that the rest of the "run" wasn't like that. Iestyn pointed out Cradle Mountain and Dove Lake to me....or rather, he pointed out the direction that they were in, as we were surrounded by thick cloud and so couldn't see anything of the amazing views!!

Sleeves up, sleeves down..

I felt totally empty, and so told Iestyn that he really shouldn't wait for me and to run at his own pace, but he said that he was happy to go my speed as I was his "pacing bunny" to try to prevent him from going out too fast, blowing up and then having to death march to the finish. One or two runners passed us but we seemed to be at the right place in the field for our pace so it did just feel like we were the only people out there - and I was just going for a run with a mate (well, there was another ex-pat Brit who ran and chatted with us for a lot of the first few kms - which made for interesting conversation as he now lives in Launceston with his wife who is doing research into GI problems in ultrarunners, especially female ones).

Spotting the edge of the mountains

As we crossed the plateau (on some more narrow boardwalks), the cloud came and went so I did actually get some amazing views of Barn Bluff, and of the side of Cradle Mountain. These glimpses teased me (when I had the chance to look up from my feet) and showed me what a magical place we were running through....and I did appreciate how lucky we were to be there. 

Barn Bluff!!

After that the weather was very much hit and miss for the whole of the rest of the day - we had patches of sunshine, but also rain showers and some periods of strong gusty winds, so it was kind of impossible to decide if you were hot or cold and if the wet was coming "outside in" or "inside out". I couldn't be bothered to keep taking my pack on and off to change so just alternated sleeves up and sleeves down and got on with it.

Teasing me with lovely views ...

Despite (or maybe that should be "as well as") the variable weather conditions, the run had it all in terms of ups and downs, technical stretches and runnable sections, dryish boardwalks and soaking singletrail ( I think my feet spent more time under water than they did out of it), windswept barren plateaus and dense cloud forest, leeches, mud.......it's hard to describe how much was packed into the one trail. Although it was just the two of us for most of the time, we did see a few walkers that were hiking the Overland Track over several days, both out on the trail and relaxing by the huts along the route. The huts themselves were useful as places to refill our water bottles, as although there were a few checkpoints en route, no support was provided for us as we had to be self sufficient. 

Cloudforest and streams

Eating and drinking as I go tend to be a forte of mine so although I don't think that I actually get stronger as the day progresses, I think that I fade less than other people, and it certainly seemed to be true on that day, as by the time we'd covered 30K, I was the one encouraging Iestyn along. Times didn't matter to us, so we chilled out as Iestyn  (along with several others) had warned me that the last section was definitely the toughest stretch from a mental point of view. When we came to the final checkpoint at Narcissus Hut we were still well within the time cut offs, so the last section was on. If you miss this cut off, you then have to take a ferry down Lake St Clair to the finish line (hence the need to carry $50 in your compulsory kit), but otherwise there was no cutting it short option (in previous years people have been allowed to finish their run there and ferry it back down the lake), though thankfully they did provide potato crisps, sweets and fruit at this hut to keep energy levels up.

Coming into Narcissus Hut

The final section sounds like it should really be a nice gentle "glory leg" if you can have one of those that lasts for 15K, as you officially "run along the lakeshore".....but that is not exactly how it is on the ground. Even with fresh legs, I would say that it is not exactly an easily runnable trail as it winds up and down around trees, over rocks and roots, through mud patches and overgrown plants. I managed to stumble on a rock when the trail was hidden by long grass, so rolling my ankle and throwing me off sideways into the undergrowth, but at least I could still get up and continue. I now know why Iestyn had told me that this was the worst part of the day, as it really did seem to go forever - just when you thought that you must be almost there as you dropped back down to the lake shore, you found yourself climbing away from it again. He did say that in past years, he had been more exhausted by this point so had always lost places in those final few kms, but although we felt rather knackered ourselves, we were obviously doing better than some, as we did overtake a couple of other runners.

The "lakeshore run"

Finally we reached the part that I'd had to cover 78K of trail for - the final 2km were along a gravel fire road, and so although it was very slightly uphill (well, it felt like it was significantly uphill but I'm sure it was actually almost flat), we picked up the pace considerably, distancing ourselves from those we'd just passed and finishing together in a time of about 11 and three quarter hours. We actually had to pass kit check again at the finish, but we didn't care as we'd had a great day out, put the world to rights many times over, drank the best can of Solo we'd ever had.....removed leeches and mud and then went in search of the "proper food" we'd been talking about for about 14 of those last 15Kms!

Finishing together

The best can of Solo!!!

A "wee" weekend away....

Sometimes you need to take a risk and get right out of your comfort zone, but sometimes it's also good to remain in the dark about what you are letting yourself in for. I can't really decide if the former or the latter is a better description of the bike ride I found myself on the other day.

I had been feeling a bit "meh" about running and so one of my Trotter mates suggested I go on a weekend bike ride with a group of likeminded people as a change. I was rather worried about joining the group as I'm no great shakes on a bike and I think that the furthest I've ridden without a break is about 50k, and even that was a while ago.......so I was worried about being the annoying slowcoach that everyone had to keep waiting for and hence ruined the trip. My friend persuaded me that I'd be fine as I had "running endurance" and that it was just meant to be a fun trip away with no pressure of speed or times, so (with some trepidation remaining in my heart) I packed an overnight bag and we cycled down to the meeting point on Saturday morning.

The "starters"

Having slung my backpack in a car and successfully hidden behind others in the pre-event photos, we set off. It started off as a nice social chatty ride and so I wondered what I had been worried out, but then I did hear a few warning signs, such as when the guys cycling along behind me talked about it being a nice gentle pace that they could easily sustain and how far they usually cycle.....or when the guy I was chatting to told me that he was "just doing the 80k option", ie turning round at 40K.....if that was "just" 80K, then how far was I meant to be going??? He also instructed me in some cycling etiquette, eg about always passing on the outside, not overlapping wheels....and told me that unless I learned how to "draft" I wouldn't make it!! That wasn't the most confidence-inspiring thing to say, as I am incredibly nervous about crashing, as I have broken both legs coming off bikes (and one time was due to someone cutting me up and taking out my wheel) and so I like to have my own space and see clearly where I'm going and any upcoming obstacles - the antithesis of drafting!

I was initially lulled into a false sense of security by the size of the group, and by the fact that other people got punctures, as these things meant that I wasn't ever at the back....and was even one of the people that had to wait for others, though there were a couple of faster riders that didn't seem to be so much "team players" and kept riding off. I actually think it may have been one of these cyclists that caused our first major drama of the trip, cutting past another guy on his inside so he wobbled and ended up sliding off the road into a ditch and hurting himself with various open skin cuts and grazes. He seemed to be fairly OK (well nothing was broken anyway) so I was told that as one of the slowest there, I should just keep going, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise as the next section was rather a nightmare for me. It should have been a lovely coast down some sweeping hills into Swansea and whilst we were on a major road it was fairly wide and had a decent surface, but unfortunately by this point in time the heavens had well and truly opened! Not only did I find it almost impossible to see where I was going due to the rain, but the cars and trucks shooting past were also spraying up fountains of water, people were coming on and off the road to my right and left, and I feared that any sudden action on my brakes would send me skidding across the tarmac like Bambi on ice. Clearly I was alone in my fears, as everyone shot past me while I just clung on for dear life, trying not to swear or cry but at least I made it to the bottom safely and to our regrouping point (ie another snack stop for me) at the start of the Fernleigh Track.

On the road....

The Fernleigh felt like familiar territory for me as I raced the NSW 15K champs along it in 2019, though I don't remember it being as downhill a run as the ride felt uphill! I was cycling along next to the guy who'd had the earlier accident and he said that one of the cuts he'd suffered was right across the front of his knee and that he felt it was opening up with every pedal stroke so he thought he'd probably stop when we got to the ferry in Newcastle (yeay....well boo for him.....but yeay for me, as that meant that as long as I could keep going to that point, I wouldn't be the first to DNF :-) ). One of the 2 other girls on the ride got another couple of punctures on this section, so again I wasn't actually last as we headed into Newcastle. The girl that was the likely culprit for the accident, again showed her disregard for anyone on the road apart from herself as she cut across cars and almost caused a major accident by ignoring traffic lights and stop signs in the busy street of downtown Newcastle. Despite these dramas, we made it to the ferry safe and sound, but the extra time taken meant that instead of a sit down feed, I was still trying to drink my takeaway coffee and eat my slab of delicious hot buttered banana bread whilst wheeling my bike onto the boat for the short crossing to Stockton (though it was hard not to think of it as Gateshead, being just across the river from Newcastle!!).

The crossing only took a few minutes and then we all cycled off round the streets of Stockton together. After a few kilometres we were onto the open roads heading towards the airport and the "peloton" spread out into various small groups. I was accompanied by Elissa on this stretch and so we had a lovely sociable chatty ride trading very very bad jokes (and singing appallingly). We pulled into our next pitstop having just ticked over the 100K mark and I did comment that it had taken way less time than I would take to run 100K but that I was probably a lot better at running the distance than riding it. A couple of guys were finishing their ride for the day here, and so they hopped off their bikes and into the two cars that had been accompanying us, whilst the two that had driven up that point jumped out and onto their bikes. Luckily (or unluckily as it meant that I no longer had an excuse to stop), one of the guys offered to lend me his back wheel as he wasn't going to be cycling any further that day. My bike had been making some very strange noises up until that point, and  one of the guys who has much more bike-knowledge than me (admittedly it isn't hard to know more than nothing!!) diagnosed that the bearings in my back wheel had gone, hence it had been complaining and wobbling around for the whole ride up until that point.

My hands were already starting to protest - and this is how they ended up!!!

The next section of the ride started rather scarily as we had to cross the main highway between Sydney and Brisbane to get to the shoulder on the far side and then cycle up it. I was definitely flagging by this point, not just because of my lack of cycle fitness, but because my lack of confidence on the bike means that I am too scared to take my hands off my handlebars (and brakes) and so I cannot eat and drink whilst cycling. On a positive note, the road surface was good, it was only gently undulating and the verge was nice and wide so my friend Darren could cycle with me to keep me going, and we could safely fit side by side and not feel endangered by all the trucks passing by. We stopped in a layby/picnic area so that I could have a little feeding break and sit down, which really helped me make it to the "official" lunch stop at Bulahdelah where there were "real shops".

Mark post-Bulahdelah-dismount!

I was so excited to be able to go straight to the little supermarket and buy ice cream, chocolate and coke and then have a sit down to chat with the others - some of the stories were great, such as one guy cramping up so badly that he literally fell off his bike on arrival there, and then lying down and falling fast asleep as soon as he'd had his lunch. Unfortunately, although some of them had been there for a good 20 minutes longer than us, we'd only been there for 10 minutes before one of the others said "right, that's a long enough break, let's hit the road", which definitely caused me to swear and mutter under my breath that it was alright for her, as she was one who'd just got out of a car and started riding! The road got much hillier from Bulahdelah onwards and it was starting to get really hot, so I wasn't exactly enjoying it. One of my problems is definitely my stubbornness, so rather than give up and hitch a ride in one of the cars, I just kept going....though I did find it rather hard to cycle and cry at the same time!

How far??!!!

Darren stuck with me the whole time, and though I really worried that I was ruining his ride for him, he assured em that he didn't mind what speed he went as it was just about enjoying the trip and spending time in the saddle (well, it was certainly more time with me than if he'd been going it alone!). One of the guys in the cars kept pulling into laybys until we passed just top make sure that we were OK which was lovely of him, but at the next meeting point, I suggested that he could then go ahead as we were "almost" there and I reckoned I'd just about manage it. The meeting point was a famous cherry pie shop but they were just closing up as Darren and I arrived. Thankfully they stayed open long enough to give us cokes and luminous blue slushy drinks (which soon had us both clutching our eyes/temples with ice cream headaches) and we were soon on our way again.

On arrival at Forster, on hearing I had to climb the stairs...

I got a second wind as I felt that the end was in sight.....well, at least the turn off from the highway was....and the last section went on and on. It was much quieter traffic-wise once we'd left the highway, but the road surface was also much worse....and the road seemed to consist of never ending corners and undulations. Eventually we saw houses and found ourselves cycling down the main street of Tuncurry. We almost witnessed a major accident as a car pulled out across the traffic ahead of us, right into the path of an oncoming van, but luckily disaster was averted and we carried on up onto the bridge over to Forster. A slight detour round the streets of Forster and we'd finally arrived, just before the heavens opened with a torrential downpour of rain. I got off my bike and lay down on the pavement, only to be told that I was staying in an upstairs room and had to carry my bike up to it....but once this was done, it was finally time to wash, relax, go to the pub and the famous ice cream shop that it was the only reason I'd agreed to the ride. It was amazing, but I'm not sure that I would ever cycle over 220Km for an ice cream again!

Hurrah for ice cream!!!

I had wondered if my "broken wheel" would get me out of the ride home, but (unfortunately?) 2 of the guys that had arranged to carshare and do half of the ride each, kindly offered me the use of one of their wheels when they weren't riding.....so I had to zip up my mansuit and get on with it (after the obligatory early morning cafe trip before we hit the road). The road back to the highway seemed an awful lot better when you hadn't already ridden almost 200km, and I felt much less guilty about being at the back of the group, as I had offered to drop out on several occasions if I was slowing everyone down. Darren stuck with me at the back again, and as it turned out, every time we got to a regroup area, there was at least one other splinter group who'd dropped off the pace and arrived not long before us. My cycling (a bit like my running) is dependent on food, so I was glad that we had ordered ahead for our "second breakfast" at Bulahdelah and then were handed doughnuts or crisps etc by the support cars at other breakpoints.

The morning cafe crowd

3 people stopped 100K into this second day but I decided to carry on a bit further  - in for a penny, in for a pound - but then came to regret this not long afterwards. The stretch out to the airport (which I'd quite enjoyed on the way up) was horrendous. It probably wasn't as bad for the group ahead - not just because they're much stronger cyclists than me, but because they could take it turns to act as windbreaks for each other - but I found that at times I was making almost no headway along the road as the wind in my face was so strong. I didn't even have the breath to swear, but I could not think of a single enjoyable thing about that stretch of ride.....and at one point even had a sit down protest (and a chocolate bar) at the side of the road!! Poor Darren....having to put up with me....especially when my temper frayed a bit more as he couldn't quite remember the route to the ferry, so we did an extra tour of the streets of Stockton! Big apologies are obviously due!

Getting on with it...

After the ferry I knew it wasn't far to the Fernleigh Track which would be sheltered, so I decided to pedal there and reassess, and as the Track was more downhill than uphill, I was even talked into going a bit further than that (despite another girl dropping out). The back car kept checking up on us and I managed to keep going all the way up the hills out of Swansea and past Catherine Hill Bay before finally calling it a day at Lake Munmorah. It was starting to get late now and I felt that whatever he said, Darren had given up so much of the enjoyment of his ride to stick with me (payback for talking me into it?) that he'd appreciate getting his head down and powering along the last few kms. There wasn't that far left to go, but this way meant that we got back in time for the "Finishers' Photo" before everyone else headed off home.....which I then had to do on my bike - talk about a glutton for punishment!!

"Finishers"

My stubbornness had really proved itself that weekend but although I was rather knackered, I was quietly proud of myself for not quitting (or not quitting earlier anyway!)....and surprisingly enough, it wasn't my legs that showed the most damage from the weekend but my poor hands, as despite having worn cycling gloves, it took weeks for the blisters on the palms of my hands to settle....which shows how much I was clinging on for dear life I guess!! Oh well Sally....it may be a while before you get another ride out....and so I may take a long time fixing your wheel to give me a decent excuse for refusing any more cycling invites!!