I haven’t even finished my Wonderland Race Report yet and here I am, with my Mt Crawford run a week later already in the bag. Which pretty much sums up how Wonderland took forfuckingever now I think about it. Although if memory serves, last year’s Mt Crawford race was a massive clusterfuck so I’m definitely hoping for a better result this year when I last minute sign up for the 14km medium course that’s actually 15km and how fucking hard is it to just say the medium course is 15kms?
Of course I wonder if I’m whimping out a bit by not doing the longer course and then I remember how shit I am and although being sensible is mostly highly over rated, it has its upsides and not dying is definitely one of them.
When I put my race bib on, which this year doesn’t have “knobhead” on it like last year, and it has M for the ‘MEDIUM’ course, I do think to myself that it’s the first time I’ve worn a medium anything for a bloody long time and hey, I’ll take it.
My 20021 race number.
At the start line a guy with Jaceo on his race bib is dancing to the bangers playing over the PA and it brings me a disproportionate amount of joy watching him with literally zero fucks to give as he parties like it’s 1999 and I think what a shame his bib number is 2002 and… so close.
Jaceo who was partying like it was… 2002.
Honestly, the race itself gets off to a fairly smooth start… I don’t get lost, there was bog roll in the portaloo, all the usual crisis are averted… and I wonder if I’ll even have anything to write about this year? I mean, not all races have to be eventful, so when we take off and I don’t instantly trip over I think ‘you beauty’.
The first few kms are easy enough and super pretty, then it’s time for the upness and it’s at this point I’m doing an internal jig for not having been deluded enough to sign up for the longer course. I trade grunts and various other sound effects with one of the other runners as we push up the hill in slow motion… and then it’s stair time and honestly, fuck stairs.
When I get to the top we have to do a little out and back on single trail to the summit with no view which is a master stroke in lunacy having runners from three or four distances all on one piece of single trail at the same time, going in opposite directions, and if ever there was a strategy designed to see who gets trail etiquette and who doesn’t, this is it.
For the record, according to me, people who are faster than me get right of way. People who are slower than me, which to be fair narrows it down quite a bit, can get the fuck out of the way. And honestly, this system mostly works pretty well until we’re on the descent and things go a bit pear shaped.
At the summit itself, there’s a giant pile of rocks and one of the other runners asks if I remembered to bring mine and I’m too short of breath to tell him I brought a 20kg boulder and it’s under my Tshirt. Which, in case you’re wondering if I brought an actual boulder, no I did not, it’s a fat joke.
But yay, time for some down-ness and… bottlenecks can eat a big bag of dicks. But that’s cool, namaste and all that, I’m pretty sure my chances of podiuming are fairly minimal but because I hate going up so much, I do love it when I can at least enjoy the 35 seconds of descent. But it’s single track, so there’s no easy places to overtake, I’m in a relatively good mood, so I just sit behind a couple of other runners.
I can hear some other runners behind me though and because I know these would be the fasties from the longer races I yell out that if any longer course racers want to get past to just say so at which point Mr Roadblock in front of me advises me they’ll have to wait. Now I should say, I’ve never ever pitched myself as being a nice person. I mean, I try to be, but I’m not naturally nice. I’m mostly a sarcastic, vindictive, opinionated prick, and it often takes quite a lot of effort to not just tell people, even random people who have done nothing wrong in particular, to get fucked. So please believe me when I say it takes every bit of energy and willpower I have to resist picking up a rock and pitching it at the back of Mr Roadblock’s head. Instead I just let him know that’s actually not how it works, and if they want to get past, we can step off for all of about two seconds. Because mate, that’s how it works. According to me. And most runners who are much nicer than me. And not assholes.
If it’s safe, you just practice the manoeuvre I like to call “Getting the fuck out of the way”. It’s not complicated or difficult to master and it takes almost no time at all. *Deep breath*
Anyway, I figure I’d better practise what I preach for Patient Long Course Guy behind me and step out of the way and… a tree branch stabs me in the fucking eye which isn’t an official part of the manoeuvre but rather an optional extra and fuck that hurt. Zero stars do not recommend. And can confirm when people say something is better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick they’re quite likely telling the truth.
A few even faster runners do come flying through and the people ahead sort of half move out of the way which is nice, and when there’s a sliver of an opening I go for it as well and rip past Patient Long Course Guy, Mr Roadblock and a bunch of runners and enjoy what little of the downhill there is left.
And honestly, I’m not trying to be a dick, and I’m not trying to cut all of about twelve seconds off my time or anything, I just really like those bits so it’s nice when I can bomb down even if everyone just overtakes me again on the next bit of upness – which inevitably they do.
At one point we run through a campground and I can hear a bunch of little kids cheering up ahead and I think how lovely that is and it’s only when I get closer I can make out that they’re chanting “NO WALK-ING! NO WALK-ING!” and fuck those kids. They are 100% gonna grow up to be the kind of people who also won’t get out of the way for faster runners.
Although there’s no rain about, the course itself is super… moist. And there, I said it. There’s a heap of wet patches and creek crossings and although I practice my best Australian Ninja Warrior moves to get through the first few with dry feet, I quickly decide I can’t be fucked and just run through the rest of them. Another pro-tip: running through puddles is liberating. Once your feet are muddy and/or wet, there’s no need to think about dodging any more puddles, because wet is wet is wet and it literally does not matter after that.
Should have just run through this one and got getting wet over and done with.
I pass through the cut log, which isn’t code for doing a poo or anything else, it’s just an actual cut log courtesy of TRSA’s Lumberjack Steve, and I watch in wonder as speedy longer course runners who seem about twelve years old come trotting by and not so secretly wish I was twenty years younger, twenty kilos lighter, and slightly less shit like in the good old days.
I manage to do OK for most of the rest of the race, I don’t do anything great but I also don’t die, so there’s that. I run over the bridge which is billed as a highlight of the course and, well, it’s a nice enough bridge and I get over it.
Trail legend Terry Cleary is on the other side and there’s no way I’m not getting a selfie with him so even though I run past at first, I quickly double back, possibly costing myself 60th place, and actually, 61st out of 143 finishers certainly isn’t my worst result. *Fist pump*
Which reminds me, they’re playing Don’t You Forget About Me by Simple Minds from the movie Breakfast Club as I cross the finish line and I want to do a fist pump like Judd ‘flared nostrils’ Nelson as Johnny Bender does at the end of the film, but decide no one will get the obscure pop culture reference and I’ll just look like more of a knob than usual which is a real shame.
I buy a cheese toasty for $2 from the local Lions Club or whoever it is there doing the sausage sizzle and actually feel bad, because I would have totally paid double that it was so good. Mmm… how good are cheese toasties? With a big shout out to the photographer who had her toasty in one hand, camera in the other technique down pat. Impressive.
I promise I’ll get to my Wonderland race report soon. It’s a doozy.
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