Ultra-Trail Australia 100 – James Cleal
Preface
Writing a race report feels strange, especially since I am very average. I normally enjoying reading these from the elite front runners so I can experience just a touch of the pointy end of the field. UTA 2023 was however an unusual experience and several people have asked for the story behind how Mark Allen, Jackson Fitzpatrick and myself came to cross the finish together.
UTA is a beast, 100km, 4400m of elevation, half stairs and half hills.
UTA is a beast, 100km, 4400m of elevation, half stairs and half hills.
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The Race
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I was in Group 2 and there were some Flyers in Group 1 in front who I shouldn’t see after the start as they’re much fitter and faster than me. Group 1 included Mark and Jackson so I was 7 mins behind from the outset. The race begins with some rolling hills on the road, then down the infamous "Furber" stairs we hoped to see at the end of the race before some technical single track and the first major stair climb to checkpoint 1 at 11kms. So far so good, I was on my target pace for sub 14 hours and feeling comfortable.
Stage 2 was a long and very runnable 4wd fire track. The views were sensational from Narrow Neck and it was enjoyable. Only one minor issue with some stomach cramps but I found a toilet just in time to avoid disaster. Reaching checkpoint 2, the race arrives at Ironpot Ridge, where the traditional landowners welcomed us with their yidaki in an epic location that was my highlight of the race. The climb up and descent off Ironpot was challenging but I felt like I moved through it well and continued back to the 4wd road toward Check Point 3. Still going strong. |
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Approx 40kms in, a nice long hill presented itself and ahead of me I saw a figure hunched over their hiking poles, almost like someone on skis going up hill. Then it dawned on me. I’d caught Mark Allen! Immediately my surprise turned to fear, was I going to fast or was he not doing well? I shouldn’t have caught him this early. Turns out we were both in trouble. He wasn’t feeling great so after a quick chat, I tried to jog again then bang, bang…. my quads decided to let me know they’d had enough for the day already. I expected to feel like this maybe around 80kms, not at 40kms…. This was going to be a long day.
At check point 3 I got to see my support crew for the first time and I was still roughly on pace for the sub 14 so I decided to keep chasing it whilst I could. The quads were twinging but I hoped I could run it out. As I approached the next major stair climb of Nellies Glen however, my quads weren’t letting me spring up. No more running, let the grind begin.
At check point 3 I got to see my support crew for the first time and I was still roughly on pace for the sub 14 so I decided to keep chasing it whilst I could. The quads were twinging but I hoped I could run it out. As I approached the next major stair climb of Nellies Glen however, my quads weren’t letting me spring up. No more running, let the grind begin.
After climbing what felt like 2kms of stairs and negotiating a few backstreets of Katoomba, I arrived at check point 4 and had given up on the sub 14hr goal. The pain in the quads was too much. There may have been a few tears in the eyes (I’m sure it was just dust in the air) but I decided today was all about finishing now, time be damned.
I didn’t know it but I had somehow passed Jackson as well as Mark. However, between CP4 and the next stop at Fairmont Resort, they got back in front again. It is funny but on the trails you can be so close to others yet never see them, particularly when you’re staring at your legs willing them to shut up and get on with it.
I didn’t know it but I had somehow passed Jackson as well as Mark. However, between CP4 and the next stop at Fairmont Resort, they got back in front again. It is funny but on the trails you can be so close to others yet never see them, particularly when you’re staring at your legs willing them to shut up and get on with it.
Check point 5 came and went. Stairs, stairs and more stairs. I wasn’t moving well in this section, just trying to negotiate it as best I could and jog the flats. The sun set and the headtorch came out. I got to check point 6 with 20 mins to spare before I would have been forced to carry extra gear for the final leg, so I was determined to get in and out. Leaving CP6 you have a long 7-8km descent down a hill and I’ve never hurt that much while running before, and I hope to never feel it again.
Now I was in the bottom of the valley and looking up I could see the finish location with it’s spotlights, but they seemed so high in the sky, like the moon. How the heck would I get all the way back up there?
Now I was in the bottom of the valley and looking up I could see the finish location with it’s spotlights, but they seemed so high in the sky, like the moon. How the heck would I get all the way back up there?
Talking to other runners as they moved past, a voice suddenly said “James? Is that you?”. It was Mark Allen, again! I couldn’t believe it. How was he in front again? Mark was sick, I was hurting. Mark needing to dry heave every few kms provided intermittent relief for me, although I felt useless, we quickly agreed to support each other home.
At the final aid station, approx. 91km point, we agreed to stay till Mark had eaten and enjoy the nice wood fire burning to reset for the final push. With some red frogs and chips on board, we prepared to get going again.
At the final aid station, approx. 91km point, we agreed to stay till Mark had eaten and enjoy the nice wood fire burning to reset for the final push. With some red frogs and chips on board, we prepared to get going again.
As we prepared to leave a figure emerged from the dark, hobbling with a stiff leg like a pirate. What the heck, it was Jackson Fitzpatrick?!?! Mark and I were equal parts stunned and excited to have another friend for company and amazed to see how he was still moving.
We set off, our merry trio of wounded men, discussing the day and trying to piece together how we had chopped and changed positions on the trails without realising each other. We were all in the same patch of forest when the hailstorm hit, Mark and Jackson had got in front and yet Jackson then behind me again as he was forced to carry the extra gear when leaving CP6. I’d like to say we then discussed plenty of meaningful topics and solved a lot of the world’s issues, but I don’t remember much. I was just relieved to have company to get to the finish line.
We set off, our merry trio of wounded men, discussing the day and trying to piece together how we had chopped and changed positions on the trails without realising each other. We were all in the same patch of forest when the hailstorm hit, Mark and Jackson had got in front and yet Jackson then behind me again as he was forced to carry the extra gear when leaving CP6. I’d like to say we then discussed plenty of meaningful topics and solved a lot of the world’s issues, but I don’t remember much. I was just relieved to have company to get to the finish line.
Jackson was moving surprisingly well on the flats and Mark and I let him head off a little, planning to catch him on the final stairs up Furber where his stiff left leg would no doubt slow him down. Mark was nauseous and I was beginning to have issues as well so we would jog, stop, walk, stop, every few hundred meters. A second wind hit us with 4km to go and a bit of a jog was sustained, passing a few people. I joked to Mark that we still hadn’t caught Jackson, “You mean that Jackson right behind you”, was his reply. I just couldn’t understand how this kept happening.
Somehow, we’d caught him again and passed him, for him to catch back up to us whilst we were collecting our stomach contents in our mouths on the side of the trail. Brain was clearly not functioning optimally.
Somehow, we’d caught him again and passed him, for him to catch back up to us whilst we were collecting our stomach contents in our mouths on the side of the trail. Brain was clearly not functioning optimally.
We reached the base of the Furber stairs and put Jackson in front to set the pace so no one would be left behind. The stairs just feel like they go on and on and every time you turn a corner thinking you’re close, there’s more. I needed a minute. I was getting hot and flushed, ready to heave again.
“I hear cowbells” Jackson yelled down. We’re there. Like a drunk on a bender, I started running for the dance floor and forgot about being sick. We felt like we were sprinting when in reality we looked like 3 hobbling geriatrics escaped from the nursing home. But we finished. Together.
“I hear cowbells” Jackson yelled down. We’re there. Like a drunk on a bender, I started running for the dance floor and forgot about being sick. We felt like we were sprinting when in reality we looked like 3 hobbling geriatrics escaped from the nursing home. But we finished. Together.
Post Mortem
All I can say is thank you Mark and Jackson and the Flyers more broadly. It was so good to have friendly faces out on the trails and made the suffering memorable, if not enjoyable.
How good is running?
Wouldn't have been possible without Craig Murray and Ivan Waterfield .... and running poles.... and coke.
See you next year so we can find out all over again.
Wouldn't have been possible without Craig Murray and Ivan Waterfield .... and running poles.... and coke.
See you next year so we can find out all over again.
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