Anthony Melov (#1333) - Ultra-Trail Australia · PDF filecast a spotlight on a fat Funnel Web...
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Anthony Melov (#1333) UTA100 (2017): My calf hurt at the starting line ... It’s kilometre 75 and the music at Queen Victoria Hospital is pumping through the heavy night air. There is excitement about and I quicken my pace from fast walk to trot speed; counting witch’s hats and staring like a deer into the headlights of oncoming traffic. Yes, at this speed the screaming crowd will definitely think I’m an elite athlete who has lost his way for approximately 9 hours. (For months I had been telling my family, friends, work-mates, strangers on the bus – anyone who’d listen – that I am an elite athlete. They were over it.) I arrive at Checkpoint 5 elated and am then told I can’t stop. “You have to keep going and come back in 3 kilometres”, says the friendly marshal. I painted a maniacal grin across his face, and continue on into the night. I try to convince those near me that he was lying for personal entertainment’s sake and the return trip is actually 1.5 km. The trip from here down towards Kedumba reminds me of last year’s UTA100. Back then I had the feeling I was walking into the unknown. Here be dragons. My headlight battery was virtually dead and I walked for several hours under moonlight in deep Jamison Valley silence. It was wonderful. This time was different and equally wonderful: I turn around and return to the garish lights of Checkpoint 5. This time I am welcomed: “Wow, you’re looking fresh”. (I love these kind volunteers but am now deeply suspicious of the word “fresh”. Other accounts confirm this suspicion.) I head back into the night and, unlike last year, know what’s in stall on the modified return trip to the finish line. Except that I’d convinced myself that there was no possible way we could descend from the cliff line only to return up the Furber Steps as tradition dictates. Yes, the race will be shorter this year! Right as I was thinking about this, at about kilometre 85, my headlamp cast a spotlight on a fat Funnel Web spider crossing the track. I painted a maniacal grin across its face as it spoke to me: “You’re in denial and you volunteered for this you clown.” Reflection on my UTA100 experience this year confirmed the reason why I participate: the event guarantees a time-compressed melange of highly contrasting experiences that, summed up, draws out something special. A contrast between pre-race anxiety and uplifting high fives from kids on the sidelines just minutes later. Between driving Friday night rain and fog unveiling a massive sunlit sandstone vista just hours later. Between that same vista and the world reduced to a beam of light that very night. Between those waiting at Tarros Ladder and the elite UTA50s barrelling down the hill at them. Between those heading to Queen Victoria Hospital and the elite UTA100s barrelling at them on muddy track. (Each saying “you’re doing great” to the other I might add.) There is pain punctuated by the smiles and words of encouragement from those alongside you, behind you, in front of you, waiting for you. Like the stranger who offered me a jelly bean at the top of the Six Foot Track right as a wave of stomach nausea was getting to me. Like my amazing, lovely wife and boys waiting for me at Katoomba Aquatic Centre - tying my shoe laces, my concerned 9-year offering me Vitamin C.
Transcript of Anthony Melov (#1333) - Ultra-Trail Australia · PDF filecast a spotlight on a fat Funnel Web...
AnthonyMelov(#1333) UTA100(2017):Mycalfhurtatthestartingline... It’skilometre75andthemusicatQueenVictoriaHospital ispumpingthroughtheheavynightair. There is excitement about and I quickenmypace from fastwalk to trot speed; countingwitch’shatsandstaringlikeadeerintotheheadlightsofoncomingtraffic.Yes,atthisspeedthescreamingcrowdwilldefinitelythinkI’maneliteathletewhohaslosthiswayforapproximately9hours.(FormonthsIhadbeentellingmyfamily,friends,work-mates,strangersonthebus–anyonewho’dlisten–thatIamaneliteathlete.Theywereoverit.) IarriveatCheckpoint5elatedandamthentoldIcan’tstop.“Youhavetokeepgoingandcomeback in3kilometres”,saysthefriendlymarshal. Ipaintedamaniacalgrinacrosshis face,andcontinue on into the night. I try to convince those near me that he was lying for personalentertainment’ssakeandthereturntripisactually1.5km. ThetripfromheredowntowardsKedumbaremindsmeoflastyear’sUTA100.BackthenIhadthe feeling I was walking into the unknown. Here be dragons. My headlight battery wasvirtuallydeadandIwalkedforseveralhoursundermoonlightindeepJamisonValleysilence.Itwaswonderful. Thistimewasdifferentandequallywonderful: I turnaroundandreturntothegarish lightsofCheckpoint 5. This time I am welcomed: “Wow, you’re looking fresh”. (I love these kindvolunteers but am now deeply suspicious of the word “fresh”. Other accounts confirm thissuspicion.) Iheadbackintothenightand,unlikelastyear,knowwhat’sinstallonthemodifiedreturntripto the finish line. Except that I’d convincedmyself that therewas no possiblewaywe coulddescendfromtheclifflineonlytoreturnuptheFurberStepsastraditiondictates.Yes,theracewillbeshorterthisyear!RightasIwasthinkingaboutthis,ataboutkilometre85,myheadlampcastaspotlightonafatFunnelWebspidercrossingthetrack.Ipaintedamaniacalgrinacrossitsfaceasitspoketome:“You’reindenialandyouvolunteeredforthisyouclown.” Reflection on my UTA100 experience this year confirmed the reason why I participate: theeventguaranteesatime-compressedmelangeofhighlycontrastingexperiencesthat,summedup,drawsoutsomethingspecial.Acontrastbetweenpre-raceanxietyandupliftinghighfivesfromkidsonthesidelinesjustminuteslater.BetweendrivingFridaynightrainandfogunveilinga massive sunlit sandstone vista just hours later. Between that same vista and the worldreducedtoabeamoflightthatverynight.BetweenthosewaitingatTarrosLadderandtheeliteUTA50sbarrellingdownthehillatthem.BetweenthoseheadingtoQueenVictoriaHospitalandtheeliteUTA100sbarrellingatthemonmuddytrack.(Eachsaying“you’redoinggreat”totheotherImightadd.) Thereispainpunctuatedbythesmilesandwordsofencouragementfromthosealongsideyou,behindyou,infrontofyou,waitingforyou.LikethestrangerwhoofferedmeajellybeanatthetopoftheSixFootTrackrightasawaveofstomachnauseawasgettingtome.Likemyamazing,lovely wife and boys waiting for me at Katoomba Aquatic Centre - tying my shoe laces, myconcerned9-yearofferingmeVitaminC.
Contrast:Thereisalotofsufferingbutonlypositivity.Theexperienceis100%self-inflictedbutyoumustnotstop. It’s after1 AMand I turn to descend deeply towards Leura Forest on steep, slippery steps.Bugger.NotsureI’llgetthatstinkin’beltbucklenow.Igiggleatthestupidityofthethought.AwhilelatertheinterminableFederalPassTrackendsandIlabouruptheFurberSteps.Veryslowbut feeling surprisingly easy at kilometre 99. At the topmusic is again pumping through theheavy night air. And again, I quickenmy pace and run hard towards the ScenicWorld finishline.Yes,atthisspeedthescreamingcrowdwilldefinitelythinkIamaneliteathletewhohaslosthiswayforapproximately11hours.Myfamilyiswaitingandtheydon’tgivearipaboutmytime. AndyesmycalfhurtbeforeIstarted...itstilldoesabit. AMelov(#1333)withthankstoSadieandtheboysandWarrenEvansofKarmeaFitness
