Running Wild : Woodford Dam (race report)

My day of reckoning arrived and it was time to face up to my New Year resolution of tackling a trail run.  I love the Blue Mountains, so a Running Wild race was the obvious choice and the Woodford Dam 13km on the 26^th Feb meant I had plenty of time to prepare. Or so I thought. In reality, nothing really prepared me for those whopping great hills, but more on that later.

It started well.  I was in the guest registration queue and pretty smugly managed to get my bib before the long line of dedicated members (Running Widow 1- Other Half 0).  After a quick pit stop, I just made it to the wave 2 start on time.  Right at the back I didn’t really hear much of the briefing, but wasn’t too bothered, I’d just follow the pack.

First part of the race was a soggy, sandy undulating downhill path.   I was leaping the puddles and loving it. The Powerade drink that I downed at the start was taking effect. Hands were shaking, heart was racing and I had this nervous twitch in my eye, which made me look really special.  In my enthusiasm I may indeed have overdone it on the drink. It was a relief to start running.

The loose downhill section was just like I had practiced in Kuringai NP, so managed to keep a good speed up.  I remembered the OH’s coaching to not hesitate downhill as that’s when you are more likely to fall. After the downhill, the track narrowed to single file through the lush green woodland.  At this point I started to slow after my exuberance downhill, but now I was under pressure - there were people behind me! Forced to go faster than the snail’s pace I prefer, I offered to step aside for the guy behind.  “you’re all right, keep going” he said.  Actually I wasn’t alright, but thankfully some steps ahead meant that the pace slowed a bit, and then the trail widened.  It felt like every man and his dog passed me next, but I didn’t really care, I wasn’t walking yet. Before I knew it some lovely little boy came out of nowhere with a cup of water. Had I known what was next I probably would have opted to stay with the little boy and help with the water, as ignorance is indeed bliss.

Suddenly I found myself hurtling down a never ending tarmac road. It seriously felt like it would never end. The only thing that I could think of was how the hell was I going to get back up this after another few KM’s? My mind drifted for a moment, I decided I did indeed need a new sports bra and a trip to Lululemon would be my reward when I finished this. I might even get a new zip up top..hmmm.  But then someone interrupts my thoughts...”I’m not bloody looking forward to coming back up this”.  Wonderful, thanks for the reminder mate.

Back to the race, someone tells me it’s only 1km to the turn around.  People had started to pass me in the opposite direction so I was willing it closer.  Then some really fast runners started coming through. Before I knew it there was my OH, in fourth place!! It was a couple of minutes before the next runner. What an effort on his first race after injury, I hoped he could keep it up. And then suddenly I found myself about 25 metres up a killer hill, surrounded by people looking a lot fitter than me. After checking with a fellow runner (walker at this stage) I realised I’d missed the turnaround point, rubbish! Emotions were mixed, I was really annoyed at myself for not paying attention at the start, but absolutely elated that I didn’t have to continue up that hill.

The return was going well until I hit that tarmac road again.  To my sweet relief I saw that others were walking it.  I wouldn’t look such a loser after all...result. I knocked back the half the vomit worthy gel sachet that OH supplied and had a bit of energy left for the push to the finish.  My hip joint was beginning to feel like it was rubbing bone on bone, but I got into a bit of a rhythm again. Just enough to tune in to a couple of funny conversations of those who overtook me; serious deadpan runner: ”It’s all about 6ft. Today, I just do what I do. Talk shit, and run”...Fair enough I thought.  And another bloke passed me with leopard print gaiters on.  Interesting choice I thought, and clearly a new running fashion, although Think OH would be unconvinced.  He told his running companion that they can be found on dirtygirl.com – he wasn’t kidding.

And  then we were back in the narrow path section with the rain coming down heavier. Feeling rather inadequate and unsure of race etiquette I took the decision to throw myself into the side bushes any time someone faster approached from behind.  It was a rather dramatic option, but as I heard the thump thump of feet behind me I just got a bit panicky.  Everyone seemed to be rather grateful to pass, so I just went with it.

Then to the final hill.  It was a damn site easier coming down than heading back up.  Many of us had slowed to a walk.  Those passing me kept the words of encouragement coming, spurring me on.  All this goodwill had me convinced that I was in fact in last place of the short course.  Why else was everyone being so nice, aside from pity. I was grateful for it, even though I could no longer mutter acknowledgment. Back jogging I suddenly heard a familiar voice “COME ON NICKY!” Thank God, it was the finish line.  And there as proud as punch as if I was just about to win the race, was my OH.

I crossed the line and couldn’t actually move much further for the next 15 minutes, but I was pretty damn pleased with myself.  “Are all Running Wild races that hilly?” I asked one of the organisers as I rested.  He said “you mean that flat?” with a wicked smile.  He did acknowledge it wasn’t a novice course though, so that made me feel better.

The OH did maintain his 4^th place, what a great finish, and checking the results online I realised I didn’t in fact come last, but 24/35.  Perhaps I wasn’t being pitied too much; trail runners are just really nice people who want you to do well.  After 4 days I could walk properly again, and have already looked online for other short RW courses I can do.  Looks like I might have been sucked in.