If you’re looking to experience a lifetime of emotion in the course of a couple days, running an ultramarathon is the way to do so. It’s an addictive, insane and beautiful endeavour, that gives you the most extreme highs and lows.
Over the weekend, I finished the Ultra Trail Kosciuszko race, a 107 kilometre run through the mountainous landscapes of Kosciuszko National Park.
It was a full day of running filled with variable weather conditions. The race started out sunny and hot, before it was paused for a couple hours due to severe thunderstorms and hail. Then, the rest of the day, and into the night, saw us trekking through muddy bush paths, amid almost constant rain.
I finished the course in around 21 hours, and was probably out there for closer to 24 hours with the delay.
Running has always been a big part of my life, and after this unforgettable experience, I’m convinced it’s given me so much more than I’ll ever be able to put into words. But for the sake of this piece, I’m going to give it a go.
In one of my highest moments of the day, I was sprinting down the side of a mountain with the sound of thunder roaring in the distance. I felt so small in this big world of ours, and so euphoric that I got to experience even a small portion of what it has to offer.
All of us runners out on the course that day had our own reasons for being there. And I’d bet many of them involve craving a sense of ‘overcoming’, whether that be from pain or challenge or fear.
While I was holding my own reasons close to my heart, I also knew that “meanwhile the world goes on”, as the poet Mary Oliver says. Her words in the poem ‘Wild Geese’ were ringing through my head for many parts of the run.
“Whoever you are, no matter how lonely. The world offers itself to your imagination.”
In one of my lowest moments of the day, I felt that deep sense of loneliness.
By the time I’d gotten to the 92 kilometre checkpoint, I was shaking uncontrollably from being cold and wet. It was continuing to pour down rain and the temperature had dropped as the nighttime had set in.
I sat down in the grass and started to fear that I might not be able to finish the race.
I didn’t have a support crew there with me, as I’d traveled down to this race by myself. And while it was part of the challenge I’d set for myself to do it on my own, at that moment, it was hard to look around and not desperately wish there was someone there to tell me what I needed to do.
My brain was mush, and it was hard to think about what I needed to refuel with, or how I would go about getting warm again. I knew that if I couldn’t get warm, my body wouldn’t be able to go on.
Eventually, however, I managed to force myself to eat, refill my running vest and change clothes. Since there was no indoor space at this particular aid station, this process involved me huddling under the hand dryer of a park restroom for quite some time to dry off and heat up.
When I finally set off for the last leg of the race, I was going along the muddy path through the bush when my headlamp battery died. Suddenly it was pitch black, I was ankle deep in mudd and nobody was around.
I started laughing. So many things had gone wrong in a row that it was all I could do to just come to terms with how hilarious the situation was.
It took awhile, but I eventually changed my headlamp batteries, climbed up the last mountain ascent in the pelting rain, ran down a steep muddy path and crossed the finish line feeling euphoric again.
I think that’s the beauty of trail running. It tears you down and forces you to be adaptable. And if you can adapt, you get to feel the rewards of what you’ve accomplished.
There’s also the fact that even though I felt those moments of deep loneliness, I know that I was never truly alone during the race.
All along the course, people offered words of encouragement and a helping hand. The kindness in the trail running community that day was extremely palpable.
I’m convinced that trail runners are some of the most kind and supportive group of people you’ll ever find. It takes a special kind of person to do this sport.
I also had great friends that I started the race with, and I had friends cheering me on from Sydney, as well as my family cheering me on from the US.
Seeing the messages of support after the race and thinking about everyone who was out on the course that day had me crying at the end.
When you’re that worn out, your emotions bubble to the surface pretty easily.
Beyond my own race, it was inspiring to watch the incredible efforts of everyone running that day. Trail runners I admire, like Kate Avery, who won the 50km race, Abby Hall, who won the 100km race and Sabrina Stanley, who won the 100 mile race. They each ran unfathomable performances.
On the other end of the race there were plenty of inspiring finishes like Augustine Kang, who collapsed over the finish line of the Kosci miler with two minutes to spare before the race cut-off. The video footage will have you rewatching over and over, admiring the sheer human grit it takes to do something of the sort.
Each person in an ultra race is competing to be a better version of themselves. It’s a unique sport in which support and respect for your fellow competitors often rises above trying to win the race.
We were all just out there trying to get the most out of life. To soak up every emotion, good or bad, or in between. To simply see what we’re capable of, and have an adventure.