MUTTERINGS, HALLUCINATIONS & A P irate

SOMETIMES THINGS GO ‘WEIRD’ WHEN THERE’S AN ULTRA RUN INVOLVED. AND BY WRONG, WE MEAN THE BRAIN STARTS TO GET EXHAUSTED JUST LIKE THE REST OF THE BODY, AND THE EXPERIENCE CAN LEAD TO TEMPORARY CHANGES IN SENSES. IN OTHER WORDS –HALLUCINATIONS. PAUL WATKINS TAKES US ON A JOURNEY INTO HIS MOST RECENT ENCOUNTER WITH A WORLD RENOWN PIRATE WHILST RUNNING THE 105MI YOU YANGS TRAIL ULTRA.

WORDS: PAUL WATKINS IMAGES: BRETT SAXON

When I crossed the finish line of the You Yangs Hardcore 105mi Trail Ultra in 2022, I immediately swore I’d never return.

Ever.

But we know the truth don’t we? That these sworn statements of never again setting foot on this God-forsaken, soul devouring, hellscape of a course aren’t really as set in stone as we think they are.

More like etched into sand. Time and tide wearing away the edges until all that remains is the word ‘again’.

Because all things ultra are simply an ongoing act of negotiation.

Here's a little insight into the kind of negotiations that went on in my brainpan when the chips were down, the finish line was nowhere in sight and it had all gone pear shaped.

2:52am

I lay on my back, staring up at a relatively cloudless sky on a warm summer evening. Blood began to flow ever so slowly out of the newly minted grazes on my left knee and elbow – oozing out at a pace that seemed to mimic my level of enthusiasm for the situation I now find myself in.

I was in the middle of the dusty trail that marked the eastern boundary of the You Yangs Regional Park. I’d been running/ jogging/power-hiking for the last 19 hours non-stop and had just managed to trip over the one and only rock that was embedded in the trail at that particular point.

The level of skill required to trip on that exact rock was not lost on me – this section of the trail was several metres wide, relatively flat and pretty much devoid of anything that could even remotely be considered a tripping hazard, even by the most ardent of health and safety officers.

Yet unwaveringly I had managed to seek out that one tiny obstacle, unceremoniously driving my right big toe into it and simultaneously managing to not only up-end myself but also convince the toenail of said big toe that based on the sheer level of abuse I had subjected it to over the preceding 19 hours that it would be in its best interests to simply detach and perhaps seek a more favourable foot.

2:53am

I looked at my watch, referred to myself in the third person utilising a variety of unsavoury terms and hauled my dusty carcass upright. The grazes seemed fairly innocuous, I hadn’t smashed my glasses or phone and no other competitors had witnessed my temporary fall from grace.

The You Yangs 105 was a 105 mile (168km) trail ultramarathon in the picturesque regional park of that same name. The race itself consisted of 8 consecutive loops –each loop being a half marathon in length. Sounds good in theory right? Do a loop and then do seven more, how hard can it be? As it turned out, rather difficult. I had reached that point that the vast majority of ‘miler’ racers do where the great negotiation takes place.

THE VOICE ASKS ‘WHY’

Seriously, you are just over three marathons into this and still have the best part of a full marathon to go. Your feet feel liked tenderised flank steak. Your toenails have begun staging an open rebellion and biologically you are currently comprised of equal parts human, dirt, dust, dried salt and sweat. Despite your somewhat liberal application of a range of soothing balms with not so incongruous names like ‘Squirrels Nut Butter’ your nether regions are still doggedly developing a level of chafing that can be adequately described as ‘biblical’. And if that wasn’t enough, you paid to be here.

Honestly, no one cares if you finish or not, you just ran three marathons in a row; a ridiculous feat by most ‘non-psychopathic’ standards, so how about you make the smart decision and call it quits before the cumulative toll of miles and summer sun combine to do any damage that may be more significant and lasting than a grazed knee and a chaffed arse.

I was spent, there was no denying it. And the idea of a ‘justifiable’ withdrawal based on a desire to not see my creatinekinase levels become stratospheric as my quads melted and kidneys threw in the towel seemed entirely reasonable (even though the reality of such an outcome was extremely low).

Why carry on? Why fight it?

It was at this moment that the one and only Jack Sparrow arrived, metaphorically speaking. You know, the infamous Captain of ‘The Pearl’.

“Why fight, when you can negotiate?”

“Are you quoting ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ to me?” (trademark symbols, copyright emojis and all that guff duly noted).

“It would appear so, now where’s the rum?”

“The rum? My God, I’m hallucinating a conversation with Jack Sparrow, I’ve lost it.”

“So you have heard of me!”

“Nick off, I’m trying to grind out a few kms to the loop end so I can throw in the towel.”

“Or we could negotiate about an alternative outcome, so to speak.”

“Let me guess you want me to strap two sea turtles to my feet and ride gloriously to the finish line.”

“You wouldn’t be the first, now about that rum.”

Good God I’d gone mad.

“I am simply proposing a parley regarding alternative arrangements – a negotiation in good spirit if you will.”

“Fine, my hallucinatory friend, what do you propose?”

“You can quit on one condition.”

“And that condition is?”

Check.

“When you get home you must explain to your two young boys why it was acceptable that you quit when it all got too hard.”

Mate.

The Captain left with a parting gift, “The problem is not the problem, the problem is your attitude about the problem.”

Dean Karnazes famously quipped, There are two ways to get to the finish of an ultra-marathon…one is to put your head down and grunt your way through. I don’t know the other way.

At some point you will want to quit. With every fibre and sinew and tortured ligament of your very being. The key is in knowing that that moment will inevitably arrive – and to meet it not as an adversary, or an end point. But simply as part of the process.

You don’t have to win that argument, recognise the thoughts, understand this is as normal as muscular fatigue or being caked in equal parts dirt and sweat and curse words.

Know that this too shall pass. So keep moving forward, see how you feel in another five minutes, another fifteen, over that hill, after the next aid station.

Give yourself the space and time to process and move through the mental game as much as you would move through the physical one.

2:54am

I have simultaneously lost one problem and gained another. I have lost the problem that is finding a way to rationalise quitting. Because we are not quitting.

I now have the new problem of finding a way to draw another marathon out of my carcass and mind so we can get the job done. Find the problem fix the problem.

Eat, drink, sing show tunes, accept that the miles will be done and get to work.

3:23am

Coming through the checkpoint, marking the end of loop 6, with two more half marathon loops to go. The race director was there and asked how I was going.

“The engine lights are on but she’s still running, I’ll get the job done.”

“I have no doubt you will.”

Twenty-nine hours after I started, I crossed the finish line of loop 8, clocked in my 170km and took proud possession of a finisher’s belt buckle.

I went home and told my boys that I didn’t quit.

“Not all treasure is silver and gold mate. ” – Captain Jack Sparrow.