Training

I followed the new Streek UTA100 race training program, having used The Body Mechanic training program very successfully for the UTA50 previously. The program structure was familiar which helped alleviate my anxiety about doing 100kms for the first time, at least a little bit!

The first four weeks or so went really well, but I noticed a new niggle in my left Achilles tendon. Dr Google told me it was tendonitis, and so I did about a million heel lifts to fix it. It got worse to the point where I was cutting runs short and so I eventually booked in to see Mark for a proper physio diagnosis. Which was just as well, because he identified an issue running down my whole sciatic nerve which was manifesting in a tight calf, tight glute and sore lower back which I hadn’t noticed because of the raging Achilles. More foam rolling, trigger point balls in my glute and calf, and stretches were ordered, which started to set me right, so I couldn’t use the Achilles as an excuse to pull out.

I started a new job in March and I was worried the training schedule would interfere with work commitments (and vice versa!). But I soon discovered my new boss is a runner too. ‘I’m booked in to run 100kms in May…’, I told her. ‘Fantastic!’ she said, ‘go for it!’. So, the new job wasn’t going to give me an excuse to pull out either.

I trained mainly around Lithgow on Hassans Walls, conveniently located at my back gate, and I also did most of the Blue Mountains Fitness on-course training runs. I had done these in previous years and they never disappoint, particularly the night run and long runs, and as a result I felt confident with the back ‘half’ of the 100 course. I did notice that my trail runners (Altra Olympus 6) were biting into my Achilles a bit, but I figured that was because it was already swollen, rather than the shoes being the cause. In mid-April I bought a pair of Topo Pursuit 2s for weekday training, which didn’t bite my Achilles at all. But I wouldn’t be using such new shoes on race day, that would just be stupid!

A week out from the race, my hamstrings and glutes felt cooked, but my Achilles was feeling good. I had a check-up with Mark who was pleased with its progress, quizzed me on my race prep and gave me some critical advice on timing my ‘lucky gel’ earlier, at the Leura Forest picnic area rather than at the bottom of Furber, like I had planned. I was starting to feel excited.

That Saturday at Parkrun I saw my GP, Dr Tamilarasan from Elevate Medical Hub, who said straight up that I should rest from then until race day. I didn’t need much convincing. That final week I did my stretching and rolling and plenty of walking, but didn’t run until the 3km on the Friday, which I did in my Altras. And my Achilles blew up in the first km. Shit! So I made the agonising decision to change to the new Topos for the race, and put my Altras in my QVH dropbag, just in case.

Race Day!

When we lived in Sydney, we would stay at Katoomba YHA, do the classic TBM morning ritual stretches at the front door and then jog down to Scenic World, and even if there wasn’t an ‘urgent’ need to, use the toilets at the oval and relube the whole ‘under the undies’ area to prevent chafing. Now living in Lithgow, I wasn’t going to waste money staying in Katoomba, but I got Stu to drop me at the YHA at 5.30am so I could reenact the old routine. It worked perfectly and I got to the startline with nice warm legs, empty bladder and bowels, lubed, and with fairly calm nerves. And no pain in my Achilles, phew!

Start to Narrow Neck

My yellow start group were off at 6.59am in high spirits, and as I turned down Narrow Neck I passed Tony and Di from BMF doing the 50k, both looking like they were going to win it! I was happily jogging the flats, hiking the ups and sagely telling similarly slow runners that those fast folk going past us ‘just have a different strategy’.

Narrow Neck – Medlow Gap – Foggy Knob

When we got to the queue at  Tarros Ladder, a bunch of fast young Irish lads from a later start group had caught up to me. This made the next hour and a half somewhat entertaining, but as we got cold and stiff on the western side of the mountain, morale dropped and anxiety grew. I was most worried about my fuelling, I was only carrying enough for about 2 hours, anticipating that was plenty of time to go the 17kms to Checkpoint 1. The bottleneck meant those first 17kms took FOUR hours, so my fuelling and pacing strategies were both out the window. ‘There goes my sub-20 finish…,’ I thought, now I would just have to focus on making the most of the experience and finishing the race, but the low morale of the group was hard to shake.

But worse, once we were free from the ladders, everyone understandably wanted to run really fast to make up time, down a steep, technical single track that I hadn’t trained on. There were not many spots to step aside for the pack of faster runners I was in, and so I ended up going down much harder and faster than I should have, and started to feel an unfamiliar pain on the outside of my right knee. But no time to lose! Medlow Gap – toilet, lube, handful of chips, half a banana and back out in under 5 mins.

Most of what I remember between these checkpoints is running too fast and trying to ignore the cursing from runners around me about  Tarros Ladders. Oh, and that climb up to Foggy Knob! I had my poles out by then, much earlier than planned due to the pain in my right knee. Thank goodness I watched that Scotty Hawkins pole video again, I lol’d to myself… Foggy Knob checkpoint, in and out under 5 mins again, I was looking forward to 6 Foot Track. And on the way out, there was Emma from Lithgow High, telling me I was looking good and to enjoy the rest of the day. I’m so lucky, I reminded myself.

Foggy Knob to 6 Foot Track

This is why I’m here. The privilege of being in that spectacular country that even as locals we don’t often get time to see. The checkpoint bananas were sitting well in my tummy along with the Clif Bloks and sips of mandarin Tailwind which I was devotedly taking in every 20-30mins. I kept jogging along with my poles and telling myself there was no point worrying about things out of my control, and fantasising about the things I was going to eat from my checkpoint dropbag…

GEAR CHECK?? WTF?!?! I realised my emotional state was actually way more fragile than I thought when 3 mins of mucking around to locate my thermals nearly had me in tears at the entrance to the checkpoint. I held it together until I found my dropbag and immediately smashed the bottle of Trail Brew I had prepped, and a piece of watermelon. Ahhhh… Ok. I got this. I had written a list on the inside of my dropbag and just went through each task. Toilet and lube, fill flasks, restock nutrition, walk out. Under 11 mins!

6 Foot Track to Katoomba Aquatic

I munched on my homemade oat cookies (recipe from Run Fast. Eat Slow), as I headed up the hill and psyched in for what I thought would be the ‘worst’ bit. I kept fuelling, eating my way through two bread rolls (one with honey, one with peanut butter, and salted butter on both) before reverting back to Clif Bloks. It was a spectacular day on the 6 Foot Track in the afternoon sun with music floating out from the vineyards, and a group of responsible runners guiding the rest of us around an enormous Eastern Brown Snake, who looked suitably unimpressed by all the traffic!

My major annoyance on this leg was the lack of portaloos, blokes had been freely peeing everywhere and I was holding out for the little aid station toilet before heading up Nellies. There was a portaloo, locked, on the back of a trailer! Argh! I held on as long as I could and eventually had to go nearby to the Cox’s River, terrible trail etiquette I know, as I drafted the complaint email to the race organisers in my head…

I got to the 50km marker at 5.20pm, right on sunset, stopped and got out my hi-vis vest and head torch. My torch was already on! How and when did that happen!?! I didn’t stop to think through the consequences, just got back on the trail as quickly as I could. I had never climbed up Nellies, but I remember going down being bad enough and it didn’t disappoint. I was clambering nearly hand over foot and started laughing. Inchworms! This is why Mark had us do all those bloody inchworm exercises!

Going uphill my knee felt fine and my optimism grew about finishing in a ‘reasonable’ time, even though my ‘Aquatic Centre by 6pm’ goal had well and truly passed, I got there at 7.06pm, so I had made up one of the hours lost at  Tarros.

Katoomba Aquatic to Fairmont Resort

When I crewed for my partner Stu in the 100 a few years ago, the Aquatic Centre reminded me of a disaster relief centre and I got that same sense of chaotic urgency when I got there this year. EXCUSE ME KID I NEED TO SIT DOWN!. Did I really just yell at a kid? Wow. Ok, stick to the plan. Drink your Trail Brew, eat your ‘morale’ chocolate (Pana Golden Comb), check your gear.

I definitely wanted to change my wet socks and when I took my shoes off, I confirmed that my Achilles was fine but the rest of my feet had reacted how you would expect, doing a long trail run in new shoes. Covered. In. Blisters… Sorry feet, too bad! I lubed them up and put fresh socks on, which felt heavenly. I went through the rest of my checklist: toilet and lube, jumper on, food into pockets, refill flasks, walk out. Under 15 mins! Just as I walked out it started raining. Perfect timing! I quickly dashed back under cover, got my jacket on and headed back out. Lol, those dry socks were a waste of time though… and did my headtorch just flash?

Leura Forest freak out

I shuffled along towards Echo Point by which time my head torch was definitely flashing that it was done, it died and I switched to my back up torch. I called Stu, no answer! I kept moving and tried him again 5 mins later, no phone service! OMG this is a nightmare! I got to Echo Point and told the vollie, she suggested leaning up against the glass of the Visitors Centre to get onto the free wifi. Man did I feel like an idiot doing that. But it worked and I managed to call Stu on WhatsApp. I NEED YOUR HELP – MY TORCH SWITCHED ON IN MY VEST AND NOW IT’S GONE OUT AND I HAVE TO GET TO FAIRMONT WITH ONLY MY BACK UP TORCH AND I DON’T HAVE ANOTHER SPARE UNTIL QVH AND I WON’T MAKE IT!

‘I’m springing into action’, said Stu, ‘I’ll see you at Fairmont’.

I LOVE YOU!!!!

Right, don’t panic, help is on the way. Use the toilet now while there’s a chance, nope, Echo Point toilets locked – grrr. Ok, you can hold it, just get in and out of Leura Forest as fast as you can!

This was easier said than done with a sore knee, in the rain and pitch dark, and with only the back up torch, I could barely see a metre in front of me. Emotionally this was the hardest part, as going up and down the stairs holding onto both sides trying not to slip, I was constantly thinking ‘what happens if my torch goes out now?’ ‘Or now?’, ‘OR NOW?’. I tried to calm myself down by strategizing how I would get my phone out and turn its torch on, put it in a zip lock bag and somehow attach it to my race vest. Stu sent me a text but I was in a precarious spot and figured it was him telling me he was at Fairmont. Just keep going, I thought, all you can do is keep going.

As I shuffled along past Gordon Falls picnic area, there was a group of supporters yelling out encouraging messages and, thank goodness, one of them was STU! Not being in ‘trail brain’ like I was, he had worked out that Gordon Falls was going to be the best spot for him to park and find me, rather than at Fairmont, that’s what his text had said. I took my back up torch off my head, and just as I handed it to him…it went out. Bloody hell.

Stu had brought me my old clunky hiking headtorch, with a huge battery pack on the back, spare batteries and his spare back up head torch. Gordon Falls toilets were UNLOCKED so I peed, lubed, took off my wet jumper, put Stu’s jumper on and kept moving. ‘See you at Fairmont’, said Stu, ‘I’ll get your jumper dry and charge your head torches in the meantime’. So much for not needing a support crew, he had completely saved my race. I got back on the trail after Gordon Falls and immediately there was an echidna snuffling on the side of the track. Hey mate! I said. I was full of confidence now I had new torches and was back on a high.

Fairmont to QVH

I called Stu as I turned into Fairmont and asked him to get my spare puffer jacket from the car as I couldn’t warm up. I shuffled into the checkpoint cold, wet and grateful. Stu was there with my puffer and my jumper nice and dry from the car heater, and I pushed my way through the crowd and got changed in the toilet. I had a coffee and started to warm up. By then all the checkpoint food was pretty sad-looking, but I stuffed some stale chips in my mouth and kept moving. There was no question in my mind now that I had to finish, given the lengths Stu had gone to drive up from Lithgow with the extra head torches, bring me warm dry clothes, refill my flasks and be there in the rainy night with all that love and support. He said: ‘you don’t need to see me at QV, you got this, I’ll see you at the finish!’. Ok, I thought, I do ‘GOT THIS’!

I know the rest of the course very well and wasn’t expecting any surprises. So when a little black coyote trotted out onto the track, it was unexpected. Then a couple of black cats and some stumpy little gnomes popped out too. It’s happening, I realised, I’M HALLUCINATING! Keep fuelling I thought, and jammed in some caffeinated Skratch lollies.

The Nature Track was long and hard and frustrating, usually I cruise along but my knee was really starting to slow me down, it wasn’t just the pain, it just refused to bend the way it should! Just keep going, I thought, even though you’re a totally shit runner, you have to keep going. Hang on, negative self-talk? Time to refuel! (Thanks Mark, for that race week nutrition plan, it kept me from quitting at this point.)

I finally saw the lights of the Hospital with a row of giant runners standing sentinel. Why are they all standing like that the side of the road? Ah, because they’re actually trees… The auditory hallucinations had started as well and I was constantly talking to people behind me and turning around, only to discover I was on my own. And I realised this was not the first time that day I had tasted blood, oral hallucination? Hmmm… just keep going!

Queen Victoria Hospital to Finish

I came into QVH without a lot of common courtesy to the volunteers, sorry about that. The toilets were appalling and the water point unsupervised, which made the basic tasks feel like impossible chores. When I had finally peed and filled my flasks, I found my dropbag and plonked down onto a chair to change my shoes. One of my Irish lads from  Tarros was there, along with Priscilla, whom I’d met at the start line and kept crossing paths with throughout the day. We were all pretty incoherent and indecisive and happy to see each other. People were coming in exclaiming ‘I’m DNF’ing’, ‘I’m calling my mum’, ‘My toe hurts!’ and I kept getting sucked into conversations trying to convince total strangers to keep going, ‘because we’re already 82% done!’. I think I wasted about 45 minutes.

I changed my shoes and socks and apologised to my feet, other than my ‘sore’ Achilles which was still having a great time of it. I ate what I could, repacked my vest, and just before I walked out, I realised I hadn’t lubed my feet. Goddammit. Thinking about how slow I was going to be, the two creek crossings and the state my feet were already in, lube was definitely a ‘must have’ if I was going to finish this. I went back inside, shoes and socks off, lubed up, put them back on and psyched in, again. ‘That’s a good idea’ said the physio, who watched me through the whole procedure. Good, thanks, let’s go!

Priscilla and I headed out, she had a sore knee too but was in better shape than me. I felt really sad and demoralised going down Kedumba, usually I fly down there and feel strong and free. Tonight I was shuffling down sideways, holding both poles together on my right side as a walking stick. Going backwards didn’t work, I was too tired to keep my balance. I got to the first creek crossing at 6.30am and had to laugh, for two reasons. Firstly, I had hoped I would well and truly be finished by then, and secondly, because there were cinder blocks to step on so our feet wouldn’t get wet! The lube job turned out to be a waste of time. Sigh! Oh well, just keep going.

We got to the Emergency Aid Station and they were close to packing up, I grabbed one last banana, used the toilet, lubed and kept going. I had about a litre of water in my back bladder that I had saved for this last section which was just as well, because I truly cbf’d mucking around with flasks at this point.. Heading out of the Aid Station I figured I needed all the help I could get and so I had my lucky gel early (choc mint Gu) and it definitely did give me a boost. But getting back into Leura Forest took an age and I kept waiting for the ‘it’s just a Parkrun from here’ feeling to hit and my knee to miraculously cure itself. It didn’t happen.

I kept plodding along, occasionally asking imaginary runners if they’d like to pass me, as well as some real ones. Federal Pass was a mudslide by this time and I lost my shoes twice! And then, there he was, Leonard the Lyrebird, out on the trail scratching in the mud! I nearly cried with happiness to see him and it reminded me of how much I love these trails, and trail running, and the privilege of having this experience. The tears were pouring out of my face and the next (real) runner who came along got to hear all about it.

Finally, Furber Stairs. My gratitude had worn off, I was cursing the tourists ‘in the way’ and snapping at the vollies who were explaining ‘this is the last bit, you’re nearly there!’. I KNOW!

My knee was fine going up the stairs and it was a relief to be moving ‘normally’ again. I looked at the time about halfway up. 10.44am. I suck at maths so I had to count on my fingers several times. Starting at 7am, 8, 9, 10…11… that will be 28 hours! Shit! There’s no way I can make it there now. Don’t even try. But you might, you’d better try! Ok! Up, up up! EXCUSE ME I NEED TO GET PAST!! Tourists shuffled to the side. The sweepers coming down moved without me having to say anything, they knew…

I got to the boardwalk and started crying again, another lyrebird, this time trying to sing a whipbird song – ‘Whiiip! Whiiip!’. ‘Good work, well done! I actually said that out loud, exactly what I’d been hearing from people for the past 24+ hours. Oh my god, I was embodying the lyrebird…

The photographer put his camera down and looked at me as the vollie gave me my medal and towel. ‘Well done, Katy. Seriously, well done’. It took me a moment to realise what he was talking about and then it dawned on me, I was the last sub-28 hour finisher.

Stu gave me a hug. ‘Your nose is bleeding’ he said. ‘Yeah?’, I laughed, ‘I’m fucked! But I finished!’.

Lessons learned / reminders for 2026

  • You can’t do this crazy thing alone. If Stu hadn’t been able to bring me the extra headtorches, that would have been the end of my race.
  • Check headtorches are off, and locked! And pack as many extras as you an afford in your race vest / drop bags.
  • Take more caffeinated nutrition. I had relied on aid station coffees but only had time to do that once. Consider expresso cookies next time instead or as well as the ginger ones (which were awesome!).
  • Bread rolls were good, but took a long time to chew and swallow. Trial some wraps in training next year instead.
  • Sort your bloody shoes out!
  •  Tarros Ladders? I don’t know what strategy could help with that, other than factoring in a couple of extra hours of race time. Maybe if they open Duncan’s Pass as an alternative next year that will be the determining factor… but right now, even with that goddamn queue, I feel like I will definitely do it again!

Thanks to Sportograph for the photos