ED’S WORD KATE DZIENIS, EDITOR IMAGE: SEAN BEALE
s s e n i s u B D E H S I N I F N U
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eing vulnerable isn’t easy, but that’s what I’m going to do. Heading out for a single run over the past two years has had its fair share of challenges, I’ll be the first to admit. From the global pandemic to having my second much-anticipated child, lacing up my runners and walking out the door hasn’t exactly been a priority. It’s been a tiresome 24 months, but finally in 2022 things are starting to fall into place and a sense of balance is slowly returning to what my new normal is. When I think about returning back to my peak fitness level and finding inspiration within myself, I can’t help but recount my most favourite event that I’d ever raced in, back in 2017 – the 6 Inch Trail Ultra, which provided 47km of blissful terrain along the historic Munda Biddi Trail from North Dandalup in Western Australia’s south west to the town of Dwellingup. I’d been training for almost half a year to get ready for it. In my head, all I wanted to do was complete an ultra – forget marathon distance on the road, that was never an attractive option for me. It was all about 6 Inch for six solid months. The furthest I’d ever done up until that point was 25km. It’s probably here I should let you know I’ve never been a good runner. Parkruns were always about 36 to 38 minutes for me, and I could never break a 7.30 pace comfortably. With that in mind, my focus in 2017 was to just aim for ‘time on feet’, and incorporate hill training (my relationship with inclines is on a hate-hate basis, and going uphill is a total weakness). And I did it – I did everything my coach at the time told me to do, and I drove the two hour drive to North Dandalup just after midnight to see a very early start to the race.
us stood under space blankets and trees in the freezing cold and rain to see a 430am start, I moronically had a frozen bag of water pushed up against my back giving me what seemed like frostbite along my spine, if that’s even possible.
Checking in, the nerves had begun to stir in my gut; and to make things worse, the day was predicted to be full of rain, cold chill and storms. Most of the time, 6 Inch had always been held on what appeared to be Perth’s hottest day of the year but by some miraculous change of heart by the weather gods, it was the complete opposite – and I’d stupidly put my bladder in the freezer the day before. So whilst all 299 of
Despite that, I was prepared. The whistle blew and off we ran, up Goldmine Hill for 1.5kms at 10% AVG and 1.5km gradual. There was a lot of cursing under my breath for the most part, and by the time I got up to the top for a relatively
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flat bit, I was pretty much trying my hardest not to be last – so pushed myself to ensure there were at least two or three people behind me. The first aid station was at 23kms, with a cut-off of 4 hours, and I’d made it just in time. The volunteers had turned the station into a retirement village, with an abundance of running friends dressing up as old grannies and grumpy grandads, playing golf whilst targeting runners and racing us to our drop bags with their steel A frames.
