Hong Kong 4 Trails Ultra Challenge 2021

 If you’re reading this hoping to find out why a middle-aged athlete unburdened by talent would abandon his family and his senses for the weekend and cause himself pain and discomfort that he could stop at any moment without penalty and, to be honest, without anyone really noticing, then I’m afraid you’ll be sorely disappointed. There’s no miraculous tales of redemption and finding oneself on the dusty trails of Hong Kong. There’s no money raised for deserving charities (well not by me; you need to focus on some of my fellow runners who are true superstars). There’s no honouring the wishes of a dying parent (trust me, my parents are very much alive and their only wish was that their son would stop with this stupid challenge). Spoiler alert: I didn’t even break 60 hours.

            

So there’s no answers here. Only questions. And not even well-defined ones. But I guess if I had to give a question that seems to matter to me, that seems to drive my interest in running longer and longer, it would be, Are there limits? Do they matter? Are they in our head? Are they real?

 

Ultrarunning is the exploration of the limits that we and others put on ourselves. Each of us are different. Jim Walmsley can run the Western States 100 mile course in just over 14 hours. I’ve done it twice, with the fastest just under 24 hours. In theory I’m sure I could go faster, but I’m never going to come close to Jim. So I don’t know where my limit is, but I know there is a real one somewhere. That limit is partly because I don’t work as hard as Jim, but it’s also because I don’t have his aerobic capacity or the muscular tension that he does, and it certainly includes that I’m 20 years older. Some of those things are under my control but many are not. So limits are fake, but also real.

 

We can be limited in different ways. I’m pretty limited in speed. I don’t run that fast. I’m also limited in distance, but much less so. So if I can keep running my moderate pace, I can go for a long time. I discovered that at Big’s Backyard Ultra in 2019. Much better, faster runners than me couldn’t keep running as long. Since that race has limits on the speed you need to go, that factor was eliminated as a limit and I became much more competitive. Before this event Mark Agnew quoted me in the South China Morning Post as saying that I was “Average but stubborn.” That’s probably a pretty good summary.

 

Which brings us to the current matter, the Hong Kong Four Trails Ultra Challenge, one of the hardest endurance events in Asia. The aim is to run all four of Hong Kong’s major trails, one after each other (Maclehose: 100km, Wilson: 78km; Hong Kong: 50km; Lantau: 70km). It’s not just the 298km total distance either; the trails combine for about 14,500m elevation gain, so runners are constantly going up and down steep slopes. The target time to be a “finisher” is 60 hours, but you have up to 72 hours to be a “survivor.” That means 3 days and 3 nights out on the trail.

 

I’ve had two previous attempts at this thing. In 2018, without really knowing what I was getting myself into, I survived in just under 72 hours, after being psychically tortured by sleep monsters on the 3rd night with no sleep. In 2020 I came back but had sprained my ankle four weeks prior; I made it 160km but then my core muscles gave out and I couldn’t keep moving. Even though that was beyond my control, I really didn’t like quitting, and a few weeks later went back with some other “losers” and finished the remaining trails. I knew I wanted to come back and finish properly.

 

For 2021, the Race Director, Andre Blumberg, invited previous finishers and survivors to come back for a “family reunion.” I signed up again. Despite the COVID-19 pandemic, he was able to institute hygiene controls for the small field of 18 runners, and on February 12, the first day of the Chinese New Year, we met in the early morning at the nondescript highway underpass at Tuen Mun on the western edge of Hong Kong that is the starting point for the Maclehose Trail.

 

When I entered, I was keen to push to become a “finisher”, which means I’d need to take 12 hours off my previous time and come in under 60 hours for the whole thing. As the event drew closer, it became clear to me that this would be a stretch. I wanted to give myself the opportunity to “finish”, but ultimately I decided that I’d be happy just completing the event in 60-something hours, which would still be an improvement on previous. But I wanted to give myself a shot at finishing, to see if I could push through that limit, and to do that I needed to finish the Mac under 16 hours, which I’d never done before.

 

Arriving early, ready to run 298km. Photo: Vincent Chan

Due to social distancing, we all started at different times, about 3 minutes apart. I was starting right in the middle of the pack at 6.23am. The speedsters were trying break 50 hours – good luck to them! The rest of us were just trying to finish or survive. 

 

The cool morning felt great and it was hard to resist running too hard. Pacing is so important but so difficult. Running too fast, even though it will be easy for a few hours, will damage your legs before you realise, and then there is a long way to go across the four trails. Run too slow and you’ll find it hard to catch up later when your body is past exhaustion. And how do you replicate this challenge in training? You can’t easily do a training run of even 25% of the distance!

 

The author with two legends:
Nikki Han and Stone Tsang

However, having run the Mac in HK4TUC twice previously, I had some idea of good splits to hit, which would see me come in around 16 hours. I seemed to be doing OK for the first few hours through Tai Lam Chung Country Park and up to Tai Mo Shan. A few people starting after me caught up: Stone (the Legend), Jacky (the Superstar), Pong (the Incredible), Nikki (all of the above!). But HK4TUC is not a race – it is a set of personal challenges, so it was always good to see people and chat as they went past. 

 

Heading up Needle Hill. Photo: Lucien Chan

I made it to Shatin Pass, which is about halfway on the Mac, in 6 hours 50, or 25 minutes faster than the previous year when I finished the trail in 17 hours. I was feeling good but it was now starting to get warm. And the next 20km (Mac stages 4 and 3) are the most challenging. Sasha was there to see me and check I was OK which was lovely. One of the rules of HK4TUC is no support on trail so she couldn’t do anything for me, not even buy me a drink or help me fill my bottles. But the trails are public spaces so Andre can’t exactly ban people from being there either. The compromise seems to work.

 

Starting to work hard on Mac stage 4.
Photo: Viola and Alan

Sure enough, the next stages were the start of the struggle. I wasn’t cramping but I could feel my calves and quads starting to work hard. I slowed a little. Chang and Chun Man came past, both looking very calm and in control. I tried to stay with Chang but was working too hard to keep up so let him go ahead. I was now on my own. Heading to Pak Tam Au right on 12 hours, I had a relatively straightforward 25km to go, and my time target seemed in reach. It was getting dark and cooling down. The beaches at Ham Tin, Sai Wan, and Long Ke Wan were lovely, though filled with campers. One climb over Sai Wan Shan and then a 10km run along the side of the High Island Dam and I finished the Maclehose Trail at Pak Tam Chung in 15 hours 58 mins, right on schedule. The usual party was dampened by the needs of social distancing, with only one crew member and one driver allowed for each runner. My long-suffering crew chief, Tanya (Pirate), was there, and after greetings with her as well as Andre and Paper I quickly had a wash and changed clothes then went to find Ivan who was driving us to Nam Chung in the far north-east of Hong Kong’s New Territories.

 

Made it to the end of the Mac. Photo: Viola and Alan

In the car I tried to eat but wasn’t very successful. Mashed potatoes didn’t want to go down. I muched on a few crisps but not in any real quantity. I got some soup which tasted pretty good. The homemade sushi was also going down well. I took a few minutes once we got to Nam Chung to make sure that I had enough calories down. Sitting in the car we saw Nikki start, and then Vic. Eventually I knew I had to get going. It was time to start the Wilson Trail. 

 

The Wilson begins in Nam Chung and the first 22km is some of the most difficult of the whole Challenge. You climb up and up towards the Pat Sin Leng ridge, then go along an undulating series of peaks at about 500m elevation, clmbing then up to Wong Leng at 600m, before dropping down to Hok Tau Reservoir and then climbing another 300m over Cloudy Hill. It is a beautiful section but extremely remote and when you’re there in the middle of the night, you feel like you’re a million miles from another soul, even if you know there are other 4 Trails adventurers somewhere out there. I knew to have a chance of “finishing” under 60 hours I needed to push hard on this section. But now, at midnight, having run hard all day, I was struggling. My calves looked like they contained a nest of hornets, with the muscle fibres buzzing backwards and forwards as they threatened full-on cramp. I was also struggling to get enough food in, with nausea steadily developing. I was trying to stay light and so was carrying 1.5L of fluid, which had been more than enough in training but now I was moving slower and needed to take water when I was eating. So as I started up the long climb, I was careful not to take too much water and to make sure I had enough to get all the way to Tai Wo. I was making steady progress, but not at the speed I needed to be moving at. Pushing too hard, though, caused more cramping in my calves, as well as my quads and hamstrings, and I knew that could be fatal to completion. I just kept my head down, focused on the path, and tried to keep moving as quickly as I could.

 

Eventually I made it to Tai Wo about 45 minutes past my target. It wasn’t an insurmountable difference but it would be emblematic that this trail would take longer on every section than I planned for. As I headed up towards Lead Mine Pass, thoughts as dark as the pre-dawn sky started to fill my head. The last few months I’d had my best training ever, in terms of time, distance, and climbing, and I felt as fit as I ever had. Yet, a similar story was playing out on the trail. After a good first day on the Mac, everything had started to get very hard, and pushing myself to keep on track didn’t just seem an issue of will-power; it seemed more likely to push me into a hole that I’d never get back from. Climbs that normally would be accomplished easily were causing more cramping in my legs, which caused me to slow down, which caused me to get further behind my time splits. As the dawn broke I made it past the monkeys at Kowloon Reservoir and eventually back up to Shatin Pass, where I saw Sasha a second time. There was some good news; this was the place a year ago that I’d come into with a lean, where my body integrity started to give out since I was favouring the recently-sprained ankle; shortly after, I DNFed when I couldn’t continue. A year later and I was still standing tall. I had no reason to quit. Yet it seemed a long way to the finish, and I had some catching up to do.

 

Leaving Shatin Pass, I wanted to get to the MTR at Lam Tin in three hours, but once again pushing harder just enhanced the cramping. Richard Kimber, one of guys filming the runners, followed me up Fei Ngo Shan Road and asked how I was doing. For the first time I verbalised my dilemma – I was still pushing to try to make the 3am ferry which would give me a shot at a 60 hour finish, but was falling further and further behind. At some point, I would need to accept the obvious, that I was now simply trying to “survive” for the second time. Once I accepted that, I could stop pushing because the next ferry was at 7am and there wasn’t much point arriving three hours early – I may as well take my time and get there in good shape. I wasn’t ready to admit that yet but it was the direction I seemed to be heading in.

 

Doing it tough on the Wilson. Photo: Vincent Chan

Rather than three hours to Lam Tin, it took me about four. At Po Lam Road I was getting a Coke from a vending machine and found myself caught by Fanny, who had been slowly catching along the Wilson. She was the first runner I’d seen since Chang and Lau Chun had passed me on the Mac about 20 hours previously. She looked good and left slightly before me, but this episode started a nice pattern in which Fanny and I continually overtook each other, crossing paths multiple times of each of the following trails, and seeing each other for the last time at Fan Lau on Lantau, about 26 hours later. I followed her up and overtook again on Black Hill, then she came past me as we came over Devil’s Peak. We got to Lam Tin MTR in sight of each other.

The egg sushi looked good, 
until it didn't.
Photo: Michael Gay

We now had to navigate a busy MTR station and make three line changes before continuing on the Wilson Trail on Hong Kong Island. I stopped for some egg sushi and more soft drink, taking it over to HK Island to eat as I got out of the station. This was my last chance, I needed to crush this section to have any chance of getting the 3am ferry. But I needed energy, and so I needed to eat the sushi. I ate a piece. It immediately came back up. Being sick in a public park in the middle of a pandemic is not really good etiquette. I managed to keep the drinks down and nibbled on an energy bar, and trudged up the hill. This section has four steep climbs. In training I’d done it at the end of the whole Wilson trail, where I’d been fairly tired and had managed it in 2.5 hours. I was aiming to do it in three. It took 3 hours 25 mins. The last part is over the famous Twins, with 1000 steps straight up, which were pure pain. I came down to complete the Wilson to find Tanya and my wife Sasha there ready to pick me up. It was just after 6pm. 

 

The romance of 4 Trails -- finishing the Wilson!
Photo: Photoguava

As we drove to the start of the Hong Kong Trail in Shek O, about 20 minutes away, we chatted. The earliest I could start the next trail would be 6.45pm. That would give me less than 8 hours to finish the Hong Kong trail to make the 3am ferry. It doesn’t sound that hard when I had done it easily in 6 hours on fresh legs a few weeks previously; but the reality is that almost no-one does it in less than 8 hours on Four Trails. I was feeling dazed, weak, and was heading into a second night with no sleep which would see me fighting sleep demons. Maybe in retrospect I should have continued to fight at this point, but the reality was, my desperation to complete the journey was much stronger than my need to get there at the 60 hour cutoff to be a “finisher.” I was out there to enjoy the trails, and to explore all this time alone in my own head, and I didn’t want to push myself so deep into a hole that I couldn’t get to the end. I’d already struggled with thoughts of whether I’d make it over all these hills. This was the point to admit reality, and be wiser.

 

Starting the Hong Kong Trail.
Photo: Pirate

And so, we didn’t rush to start the next trail. I had some oatmeal, and some soup, and plenty of drinks. I washed myself and put on new clothes. I enjoyed the company of Sasha and Tanya, since I was heading out into the night, alone, again. In the end, at 7.44pm, 90 minutes after finishing Wilson, I started the Hong Kong trail. I was going to miss the 3am ferry and the next one was at 7am; so my target to finish this trail was 6am, giving me 10 hours and 16 minutes, with a 30 minute buffer in case I took longer. It seemed like this was plenty of time, and there was no point pushing, so I took the next few hours easy. Three years earlier this section had been a struggle with sleep deprivation; maybe tonight I was more experienced at dealing it, or it was earlier in the evening, but I didn’t feel too sleepy, and I wasn’t really hallucinating. I made it up to the Dragon’s Back inside two hours, then down to the long catchwater on which I managed a slow jog most of the way until I started to sleepwalk towards the end. As I crossed Tai Tam Road, I needed sleep so I lay down on a concrete block just a few metres from the road. It was about 11pm and double-decker buses were going past – who knows what they thought of this skinny hiker fast asleep on the concrete. Five minutes was all it took for some refreshment and I was back
up and hiking into the Country Park. As I climbed the road towards the upper reservoir Fanny appeared again, pushing harder than me and wondering if we’d make the 7am ferry. It seemed to me we had plenty of time so I was happy to let her push on. I kept climbing, first up Mount Butler and then up Jardine’s Lookout, then coming down towards Parkview came across Tim Marchant who was out in the middle of the night for a run! He snapped a picture of me taking a drink at the petrol station at Wong Nai Chung Gap.

 

Cream soda at
Wong Nai Chung Gap.
Photo: Tim Marchant

To this point, I’d taken 6 hours to do 25km on this trail. It was now 1.45am and I was a little more than halfway. Taking my time was all well and good but I didn’t want to miss the ferry and I now had less than 5 hours to finish the rest of the trail. So while I was still moving fairly slowly, I ran a lot of more. The markers moved by with relative ease, and I wasn’t feeling particularly tired. Further, it seemed that the slower going had calmed my cramping legs, and I wasn’t really having any such problems now. I just had to keep moving. On Stage 2 under Mount Kellett I noticed a headlamp ahead of me and sure enough, I had caught back up to Fanny. We stayed together for the next hour, not saying much but enjoying the company and not having to fight the trail in isolation. Just before the trail goes up the back of the Peak I stopped to adjust my socks, since I was developing a blister on my forefoot, and Fanny pushed ahead since she needed to get a taxi at the Peak. So she finished a few minutes ahead of me, and I came around the million dollar views just after 6am, Hong Kong Trail going largely according to the new plan.

 

Deep sleep on
the ferry to Lantau.
Photo: Pirate

We had plenty of time to get down to the ferry, and were able to sit in the car near the ferry where I ate some more oatmeal and had some drinks. Tanya got my gear together, I kissed Sasha goodbye (next time I’d see her would be at the postbox!), and got on the boat. The 7am ferry is a slow one, taking about an hour to get to Mui Wo, but it has long bench seats on which I was able to lie down and get a good sleep. It arrived about 8am, and if I’d started immediately I would have had 10 hours and 23 minutes to finish the trail by 60 hours. That would have been the fastest I’d ever completed the Lantau Trail, and I wasn’t prepared to try such folly, given I’d been on my feet for 228km, was feeling rather fragile, and my name wasn’t Jacky Leung, who at that moment was completing a run around Lantau Island at that pace to cap a remarkable HK4TUC new record of 49 hours and 21 minutes – incredible! Since I was going to take a bit longer, I had a shower at Lantau Base Camp (what luxury – thanks to John and the team who are always very supportive), made sure I had some more food, and got myself ready to go. At 8.33am, I captured the exciting buzz of Jacky’s finish, pressed start on my watch, and set out for the last trail.

 

Ready to start the Lantau Trail
with crew chief Pirate.
Photo: Loz Wong

The first part of the Lantau Trail went well. I’d had a good break since finishing the Hong Kong Trail and moved pretty well up Radio Hill and over to Pui O. As I made my way up the hill I came across a familiar sight – Fanny! She’d been on the same ferry but had started a little earlier, but now I was moving a little easier. As I went past her I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be the last time I’d see her!

 

Pushing on from Pui O the day was already starting to heat up. The climb up to the Tong Fuk catchwater seemed longer than normal, but once on the catchwater I was able to run fairly consistently – the only problem was that I was starting to feel hot, and on the third day of constant motion my body’s ability to regulate temperature was not optimal. A welcome drink was had at Shui Hau, but going around the Shui Hau peninsula became a massive struggle, and not just because of the incredible number of hikers in an area where normally few are seen. I was overheating but not sweating much; this seemed like a dangerous combination. Sure enough, this was where Fanny came past me, looking much improved as I was heading in the opposite direction. I made it to the Shek Pik toilets, where I took some time to wet my shirt and immediately cool myself down. However, still feeling weak, the next section of catchwater was done at a fast walk rather than a run, as I made my way around to the village of Fan Lau where I knew I could get some cold drinks. Eventually making my way there, I found a runner’s backpack at the noodle house, and asked “Is my friend here?” Sure enough, Fanny turned up a moment later, and encouraged me to have some noodles. It was a great suggestion. I sat and cooled down and then got some calories and salty broth. Fifteen minutes later I was back on my feet and heading to Tai O before the final (and hardest) section of HK4TUC, the cimbs up to Ngong Ping and then over Lantau Peak and Sunset Peak back to Mui Wo.

 

I got to Tai O at 4.45pm. 271km down, only 27km to go. But the hardest 27km in Hong Kong. First a climb up 500m to the top of Ling Wui Shan, then a couple of other hills then up to Ngong Ping and the Big Buddha. From there, a quick swing around the village and then up Lantau Peak (934m) and finally Sunset Peak (about 800m) before the final descent to Mui Wo. Three years ago I’d been tortured by sleep-induced hallucinations as I stumbled around this section all night. I was keen to get it done quicker today. I quickly tried to get water from a restaurant but they seemed to be closed. I figured I had enough to get me to Ngong Ping so took the risk and started up the hill. The first 15 minutes is straight up, incredibly steep up an old concrete road but I managed to push up fairly well. A good sign. From there the trail meanders up and up, not too steep and I made reasonable time to the base of Ling Wui Shan. I made it to the summit, again in reasonable time, but my back was starting to ache. I knew from experience that this last section of trail was likely to threaten my basic bodily integrity; last time I’d finished the event with a crooked neck, and a year ago I’d DNFed with a lean. I realised my pack was still very heavy, with food I wasn’t going to eat and two headlamps (main one plus backup) that I wasn’t using. To redistribute the load, I took my jacket out of the pack, tied it around my waist, and put a pack of unused food in one pocket and two headlamps in the other. That excess weight was now being carried by my hips rather than back, and my pack was much lighter and easier to carry. My jacket was swinging around in rather ungainly fashion but it was worth it. Soon enough the light got dim and I put on my main headlamp. When I got to the end of this set of hills at Keung Shan Road I dumped the food in a bin – I didn’t have long to go and I clearly wasn’t going to eat it.

 

It was after 7.30pm as I started walking up the road to Ngong Ping. Last time I’d seen thick crowds of non-existent people but even though I was entering my third night without real sleep my brain seemed clear, though I was getting sleepy. Walking past a small pagoda I lay down again for another 5 minute nap. It seemed to do the trick. Soon I was up at Ngong Ping, and rather than being deserted, as I expected, there were still lots of people there trying to get the last cable car back to Tung Chung. I briefly had hopes that the stores might still be open but I managed to just miss them before they closed. No problem, I filled up a couple of water flasks at the toilets, and was ready for the final assault. The trail around Ngong Ping was uneventful, and before I knew it was at the Wisdom Path, about to make the long climb up Lantau Peak.

 

Three years ago, the peaks had been in a fog which matched my brain. Today, both were relatively clear. I hoped this was a good sign. As I started climbing, however, it was clear that I wasn’t going to just shoot over them. I didn’t have much confidence in my balance; as I pushed up from one step, I seemed in danger of overbalancing and falling off the steps. I hadn’t got this close the green postbox to require a rescue team to carry me off the mountain. So I found myself taking a few steps at a time, then grabbing the rocks with my hands and holding on for dear life. A few more steps, and then a few more. I knew the climb divides into thirds; first to a stream that flows in summer, then to the lower peak, then the top. The dry stream didn’t take that long to get to, but the lower peak just wouldn’t come into view. I’d climb higher and higher, starting to feel a cool breeze that must signify being almost out to the ridge, but it stubbornly refused to show itself. At last I found myself at the sign for Cham Tsai Au (“810m”) – only just over 100m left to climb. Normally it seems like you’re almost there but this last part of the climb went on forever, step by step, rock by rock. Finally, relief at the top of the climb, a brief celebration, then the long path down to Pak Kung Au. Two weeks previously I was carelessly skipping down with Jono in 25 minutes, but tonight it took twice as long, even though I felt like I was moving reasonably well. At the bottom I saw a bright light and sure enough it was Robin Lee, taking some footage for his movie. As I stopped for a brief chat I felt very lightheaded and unstable on my feet. Given that I had to cross Tung Chung Road, this wasn’t ideal, but I managed to make it across. Robin followed me across and started to come up the steps as I began up Sunset Peak, the final climb of his infernal challenge. I seemed to be starting a dreaded lean, was unstable on my feet, and concentrated so hard on not falling in front of the camera that I almost walked right into him! It will look great in 3D. Truthfully it was a relief when I noticed he’d stopped following me and I was able to proceed at my own pace. The Sunset Peak climb is longer than the Lantau Peak climb, but it is also shallower, and so the steps are not as steep – so although I was still unstable, I was able to keep the rhythm going a little better. Halfway up there are some benches, which I happily sat down on and instantly fell asleep, I think just a few minutes (but who’d really know). The trail eventually started to flatten out, I could see some neon lights ahead, and I found myself looking down at the huts that are placed mysteriously just below the peak, quite a few people out camping, and just after midnight, I had one final descent to survive the Hong Kong Four Trails Ultra Challenge for the second time. 

 

Finishing with the kids -- the best feeling!
Photo: Viola and Alan

The family celebration dance.
Photo: Lucien Chan

That descent went on, and on, and on – I found myself starting to fall half-asleep again, but managed to keep going. After an eternity (actually about an hour) I made it down to the road. At this point last time I noticed that my neck had locked up and I couldn’t stand straight. As I started along the footpath it did seem that my lean was now noticeable but it wasn’t really impairing me, so I trotted down the hill, doing the best I could. The 2km went pretty quickly, and I was soon descending the hill into Mui Wo at about 1.20am to the clang of Andre’s cowbell. The only feeling I had was relief. As I ran past the roundabout I found Alyssa and Max, my teenage kids, there waiting for me. I hugged them and then we ran in together, stopping only for another hug with Sasha. Merrin Pearse unexpectedly produced a New Zealand flag so I made it to the postbox with my national colours and then happily, gratefully, thankfully, I kissed the postbox 66 hours and 59 minutes after I started. Of course, no sooner had I sat down than Sasha reminded me that Alyssa had choreographed a little dance for us to do, so I managed to do that without falling over, then had champagne sprayed over me, and then sat down again. And it was good.

 

You may be wondering: What about the hallucinations? Three years ago they started as ghost houses in the middle of the bush and ended with being stuck in a dream on that I couldn’t get out of on Lantau Peak. At Big’s 2019 I famously DNFed, not because my body gave in, but because I entered some type of dissociative state where I believed I was back in Hong Kong and not in Tennessee. I seem to be learning to manage sleep deprivation better because here, going well into the 3rd night, I didn’t really hallucinate at all. I took more naps along the way and they seemed to help a lot. Plus I had a good sleep on the ferry. Having said that, when I got to the finish, I looked at the concrete floor around the post-box and saw that someone had written all over it. I asked Sasha if she saw the writing. She gave me the look you give a crazy person. So there was some hallucination, but compared to previous experiences, it was very mild!

 

Broken man, loving wife.
Photo: Viola and Alan

Two times surviving and two times my body almost broken, but not quite. The Hong Kong Four Trails Ultra Challenge really does seem to be at the limit of what I can achieve. Some of the other runners (I’m looking at you, Nikki Han and Chris Kwan) look like they could do another lap, but both times I stumbled to the finish line. This time I was five hours quicker than last time, which was satisfying, and the four hours between ferries added some extra time. Even so, I had an almost perfect block of training and I was still a long way from the finisher time of 60 hours. So maybe that’s a real limit. If so, it’s fine. The point is not to fail at the impossible. The point is to make the very hard possible, and then keep at it until it’s done. 

 

Too many people to thank but let me try.

 

This event is all about having a great crew of people who are willing to get you to the finish line. Tanya “Pirate” Bennett has crewed me three times and we’re now able to do it almost by telepathy. Pirate was amazing in the way she took care of everything and let my mind switch off between trails. I’m so excited for her to have some fun on the trails at Chinese New Year 2022.

 

Ivan van Eetvelt rashly volunteered to drive the first leg from Pak Tam Chung to Nam Chung. He then prepared lots of food to a very specific order, most of which I completely ignored when I finished the Mac with nausea. He was a total pro and a massive upgrade on John Wacker (just kidding mate, of course!).

 

Sasha, my very long-suffering wife, drove the other two legs. It’s impossible to thank a spouse enough after Four Trails, given everything they put up with before, during, and after the event, but to also do late night drives across Hong Kong Island and still come out to meet the finishing runner at 1.20am at Mui Wo makes it more than impossible. I had extraordinary good fortune to end up marrying Sasha, and I thank my lucky stars every day. I just missed finishing on Valentine’s Day but was still able to give her a small necklace that I’d carried 298km for her as the start of my repayment of the debt I owe her.

 

My kids, Max and Alyssa, didn’t join in the crewing fun, but they followed along all weekend, came out to the finish, and ran with me the last 50m to the postbox. They’re now used to hanging around trails at Chinese New Year, and it was beautiful to complete the run as a family (and then do our little celebratory dance).

 

Thanks to Joint Dynamics for helping me get better all year, with strength and mobility training, and for sports massage before and after – it’s good to work with the best in the business!

 

Also thanks to Gone Running, the best running shop in Hong Kong, for support on gear that is so essential in an event like this.

 

Scotty Hawker has been my coach since I signed up for my first Four Trails, and it’s incredible the voyage we’ve had and all he’s got out of this old body. I’m taking a break from structured training now, but highly recommend Scotty to anyone looking for training plans and advice.

 

Thanks for all the inspiration to all 17 other runners in this event. You all inspire me and it was an honour to share the trails with you. I have to give kudos to Jacky Leung for an incredible run to break 50 hours! Special appreciation to Fanny for continually crossing paths and always having a chat, and for recommending the noodles in Fan Lau!

 

Finally, this event is due to the foresight and hard work of Andre Blumberg, and the incredible support from Paper. You both have made something very special and so many people, from those who take part to those who follow the dots, are greatly in your debt. Thank you for allowing me to have such a meaningful experience, and to test my limits.

Big's Backyard Ultra 2019

I’m back in the trees. Above me, Laz and Sandra’s house sits on a small hill. I’ve got a short climb up to where the trail sidles around it, then heads down to the ravine. It’s not far, maybe 60-75 seconds of uphill hiking, but I just can’t deal. I grab a branch of a nearby tree-trunk and double over, panting for breath. Every fibre of my being just wants to crawl under the tree, lie down, and go to sleep – after all, it is late morning on Monday and I haven’t slept since Friday night. And if I was to take a nap, then this whole thing, this Backyard Ultra, this endless series of loops that need to be run every hour, can be over. If I don’t get back to the start by 11.40am then Maggie wins and we get to rest. 

I look at my watch. 10.51am. 49 minutes to do 3.5 miles, or 5.5 km. I know I’ll be perfectly happy if I don’t make it back in time – I’ve wildly exceeded my expectations, outlasting all the other men and all the women except for one total badass who looks like she just finished a 5k and could go until next weekend. Failure at this point is honorable. But only if it is actual failure. If it is due to me giving up – well, not giving up is the only thing that has got me this far. I need to honor that achievement, and the race that surrounds it. So I need to try for as long as it is possible, no matter how unlikely, that I can still succeed. I check my watch again. 10.52. Sigh – it is still doable. But not if I take a nap. So off I trudge, for the 30th time, up the trail to go around the house and down the hill.

OK, let’s take a step back. Big’s Backyard Ultra (or Big Dog’s Backyard Ultra – I’m still not sure which, if either, is the official title) is a fiendish running race held on and around the farm of Gary and Sandra Cattrell. Gary also goes by the name “Lazarus Lake”, under which he hosts a variety of races. One is the Barkley Marathons, which you probably know about; if not, Google it. But when Laz was a boy, he had a vision of people coming to his farm to run around it. Later in life, on Saturday October 19, 2019, 72 people would start doing exactly that. At 6.40am, the first loop is run. A series of warning whistles are blown at 3, 2, and 1 mins prior, and then a bell is rung to signal the start. I am in the group, having qualified for this race by winning a similar event in Hong Kong. Our task is to run 4.167 miles (about 6.7 km) in an hour. If we finish early, we can rest, but we need to be back on the start line for the next loop, at 7.40am. And then again at 8.40am. And on and on until everyone gives up, except one. That last person standing is the winner, and everyone else gets a “DNF” (or did not finish). Last year the event lasted almost three days, running every hour, day and night. On that first start line, some people think that will be them this year. Others wonder who of their competitors can go for that long. There is only one way to find out.

The first loop is a “Day Loop.” We start by running out of the farm and down a road for about 1/3 of a mile, then we turn around and come up and re-cross the start/finish line. This time we head into trees which have been planted over most of the farm. A narrow trail runs through the trees, up and down the hilly terrain, over limestone rocks, twisting and turning in tight spirals. It is not easy to run on many sections. The trail runs up and past the house, then down into a ravine, then up another short hill where we need to run through the famous “V-tree” (two trunks growing up and away from each other). Just past there we get to what I call the “upper loop;” the trail heads up a hill then loops around, in and out, before eventually coming back to this place, from where we take the trail we just came up back to the start. We head up the hill, knowing that we’ll find ourselves back here soon. At the top of the hill the trail gets even tighter and a bit slippery; we don’t need to move fast but we need to be careful not to slip and strain an ankle or worse. It seems like no two steps are level – the trail is continually heading up or heading down. The area on which it is built has obviously been masively shaped by water flow, and the trail goes up and over a series of small rises and then down into old chasms. We come to the point I’ll end up calling the quarry, a rough series of large stone slabs; get here in 30 minutes and you’re heading for a total loop time of about 54 mins. Get here slower and you’ll start pressing up against the 60 min limit. In fact there are time markers everywhere – get to the start of the loop in 20 mins, get to the quarry in 30 mins, get back to the V-tree in 40 mins, and then 54 mins (my target) is pretty safe. On the first day, these numbers seem pretty manageable. 

The day loop started with a short out-and-back on the road. Credit: Trailbear Films

The 71 other people are a resource, a new set of friends, and a traffic hazard. Deal with them as you wish. When you’re a bit late you’re tempted to push past – you don’t want to miss your time deadline because if you do, you’re out of the whole competition. But these people will be your company, possibly for days, and they know things that may help you. So don’t be a dick.

Andy Pearson looks on, little knowing he'd be looking after me later in the race. Credit: Trailbear Films

On Saturday (the first day), we do 12 hours of loops on the farm. At the start we are learning the lay of the land and the rhythms of the trail. My aim is to finish each loop in around 54 mins, so that I save my legs from pushing at all, and because my experience of the Big Boar’s Backyard Challenge in Hong Kong is that sitting around for long periods is not particularly helpful. Because of the difficulty of the trail, running it in 54 mins is not challenging but is also not trivial, made more complicated by the presence of so many other runners on the tight trails. When we finish each loop, we cross the finish line then have the time until the start of the next loop to ourselves. I head straight for my crew, Jason and Heather, who have driven down from Washington DC to support me in this race. Jason and Heather are experienced endurance athletes so they know exactly what I need in the short time available, which is essentially (1) replace calories, (2) hydrate, (3) check in on general issues e.g., stomach, feet, and (4) keep my spirits raised. On a cool, dry day, and the race only having just started, the last one is easy. I’m on Laz’s farm, and in my happy place.

Through the trees. Credit: Trailbear Films

I enjoy the social side of things too, although I’m a little quiet, not sure why. Normally I find it easier to strike up conversations but here we’re all in single file and we’re following a challenging trail with little room for error so maybe I’m a little less relaxed than I appear. Or maybe I’m just in awe of athletes that I know have achieved great performances in the Backyard or in other venues. I have a brief conversation with Guillaume Calmettes, who became a God of the Backyard after winning the competition two years ago with 59 hours of loops (running just under 250 miles). I chat with Liz Canty, an elite runner from Alabama who ran in the Barkley last year and in Western States this year. I chat with various runners from Sweden and Ireland. I chat with Katie Wright, also from New Zealand (via UK); Katie won the qualifying event in NZ just as I won the event in Hong Kong. She’s looking very strong and running slightly faster than me. One to watch, for sure.

Night starts to set in on Saturday evening. It is 5.40pm and we’ve been running for 11 hours, now having completed 45.83 miles (almost two marathons; they add up if you run enough loops). We have one more trail loop to complete but we need lighting since it will get dark before we return to camp. So everyone puts on their headlamp. Sure enough the going becomes a bit slower but we pretty much all get around, maybe taking a minute or two more. We’ve successfully completed 12 loops, equating to 50 miles (80km). Bring on the night.

According to folklore, early editions of Big’s Backyard Ultra used the trail loop 24 hours a day. The trouble is, it is difficult to do at night and so the field rapidly dropped out. Laz doesn’t like that – he wants a long race and therefore a relatively easy course. So from 6.40pm, the next 12 loops are not really loops at all but rather an out-and-back on public roads around the farm. There is very little traffic, so on Saturday evening about 60 runners go out of his farm gate, down the hill, along one flat road, make a left turn, straight along for about 1 km, make another left turn, along and up about 700m, step over a sensor box to check we got there, go another few steps to the actual turnaround point, then reverse it all the way back to the farm. It’s the same distance of 4.1667 miles, which can be completed a bit quicker due to the road surface, straight lines, and fewer hills. I wanted to finish these loops in about 50 mins to have a bit more time for taking care of myself, but also not wanting to destroy my legs on the harsh surface for 12 hours. So I developed a plan around walking and running that got me back, pretty reliably, to the farm at 30 minutes past each hour. Because of my walking breaks I tended not to fall into step with other runners, most of whom appeared to run most of the loop, but in general there seemed to be a bit less chatter. More than 50 miles in now, bodies were beginning to register some damage, more severe in some runners than in others. There were a few people dropping but in general the numbers seemed to remain pretty strong. However some of the drops were shocking. At 20 hours, Joe Fejes, a well-known name with many achievements to his credit, and who seemed to be moving consistently, suddenly stopped. Then I noticed on two loops in a row that my relatively slow run/walk schedule was taking me past Guillaume, one of the favourites, who had typically been completing each loop several minutes before me. That didn’t seem promising, and indeed, just before the final night loop, Guillaume acknowledged the pain of a leg injury and dropped as well.

Still, 44 runners got through 24 hours, including me, meaning that we’d run 100 miles. We’d done it slow and controlled, with regular breaks, but we’d done it. In most Backyard Ultras, a relatively small number of runners make it to 24 hours since it is a fairly impressive feat of endurance. At Big’s Backyard, more than half the field made it through. This was not your usual group of even moderately talented runners. This group had big goals.

It was a relief to get back to the trail at 6.40am on Day 2. The road had been hard on my body and I was beginning to hurt. The good news was that running the twisting, irregular trails of the farm required very different muscular actions than the repetitive running of the road, so there was some relief from pain. However, downhill running that on Day 1 had been effortless now was beginning to be painful, particularly a six minute stretch from just below Laz’s house that seemed to go on and on – from the bottom I’d walk up the next hill and it was always a massive relief to get there. I expected that most of the 44 would stay in the race throughout the day but actually there was a steady reduction in number, to 21 by lunchtime, to 12 (or the dirty dozen in Laz-speak) by evening. Names that I was awed by such as Amelia Boone (world obstacle racing champion), Marco Farinazzo (Badwater champion), Andy Pearson (former 2nd place-getter at Bigs) and Sean Nakamura (multiple 100 milers this summer) all vanished from the starting corral.  So throughout the day the trails got clearer and clearer, and traffic congestion was no longer an issue. I found myself running about the same pace as Gavin Woody, who I chatted to for a lap, Katie Wright, and Shawn Webber. Shawn had an interesting plan, trying to run loops of 55 or 56 mins with a similar philosophy to me but with even shorter breaks. He walked much of the loop but was obviously a very talented runner and could speed up a hill if needed. He looked like he would go really far.

Spirits were good for most of the day, but I started to question what I was doing. In particular, what was I going to do if I was still running at nightfall? Although I tried not to have a target in mind, the reality was that I thought I was capable of running until the afternoon on Day 2, completing something like 32-36 loops. I was well on my way to doing that, but things were starting to hurt. My feet were really sore – I was fantasizing about taking my shoes and socks off and walking around in bare feet. My calves and quads were getting very fatigued and downhill running was getting even more painful. I could bear it until the end of the trail loops. But at 6.40pm we were going to switch back to the road again. Did I really want to do some boring road loops that would trash my already sore legs, no doubt resulting in my demise before morning? I mean, I wasn’t actually going to complete 48 loops, which would be 200 miles of running, and would then send me back on the trails for a third day. I told my crew that I was going to quit at 36 loops. Jason was having none of it. “Just get started on the road, we’ll see what happens,” he said. When I tried to fight this before starting the 36th loop, he said “We’ll talk about it when you come in.” (Spoiler alert: We never did). I mentioned to Gavin that I was thinking about giving up. He tried to persuade me that the road would be “fun”, which I wasn’t buying for a minute, but it gave me pause that I was here to test my limits so why was I talking about giving up.

I remain convinced that if I was at Big’s Backyard by myself, with no crew, I would have given in to the comforts of the chair and dropped at 36 hours. Going back to the road made no sense. My aim had been to find my limits and that worked as motivation until this point. But as the discomfort increased, and tiredness weighed me down, my internal goals were no longer strong enough to keep me going. Instead, it was Jason and Heather who became my new motivation. They had driven 10 hours to sit in a field in Tennessee for a day and a half, seeing me once an hour, in order to help me run my best race. If they wanted me to keep going, how could I say no to that? So, to my surprise, for the second time in the race, I laced up my road shoes and hit the pavement.

Only 10 of us made it there. I was top 10. This was starting to blow my mind. My running had slowed down so I needed to run more and walk less, but that seemed to be sustainable. I shared loops with Gavin and with Shawn, and I appreciated the company and the words of encouragement. But although to my tired eyes they both seemed to be moving well, within two loops in the middle of the night they both disappeared from the startline. The incredible Anna Carlsson, who looked like she was blown along by the wind, so effortless was her running, had disappeared earlier in the night. Shortly after midnight Tobbe Gyllebring, the final Swede from a very strong contingent, failed to come to the start of a loop, leaving just four of us: Katie, Maggie, me, and Dave Proctor. Maggie was running like she had for two days; strong, in command, finishing loops quickly and getting out ready to the start the next one before anyone else. Dave is an elite Canadian runner with an incredible pedigree in 24/48/72 hour running; he was running from the front almost every loop and when I saw him on the night loops (as he came back past me while I was still heading to the turnaround point) he looked so smooth it was as if he was dancing. Katie was closer to my pace and we were often running together or passing each other on the loops, with gentle words of confidence for each other, but when push came to shove, she looked stronger than me as well. None of this particularly concerned me; I’d already outdone my expectations, I was pushing towards 200 miles, and when the wheels fell off I’d happily fall with them and leave these three to fight it out.

As my legs deteriorated, so did the rest of my body. My stomach, which had been great for a day and a half, started to get nauseous. Somewhere around midnight I thought a piece of orange would be great, but as I tried to eat it I gagged and almost brought up the food in my stomach that I’d just eaten. Later I tried some noodles with the same outcome. To be perfectly honest, and as long-time readers of this blog will know, these symptoms are not unknown to me, and I wasn’t that worried. But it was unpleasant, and I wasn’t sure how easily I’d get them under control when this was all over.

And this was how the final day began. At 6.40am four of us went back to the trail loop, for the third time. With only a few of us in there, it was a totally different experience to the days before. Maggie and Dave would move quickly and assertively off the starting line, whereas Katie and I would take our time and enter the trees a minute or two behind. Once in the trails there was quietness and peace – it was quite lovely. The morning was cool. But all was not well. First, I was feeling really terrible. I started to develop mild diarrhea. This is not totally unknown in ultras but it is, of course, unpleasant. The porta-potties were at the finish line so generally you needed to finish the loop, then use them in the few minutes you have before the next one. But on day 3 speeds had reduced so the necessary margins were challenging. I popped some Immodium which eventually helped but I still felt pretty bad. Also not helping was feeling dehydrated even though I was drinking. I found that I’d take a deep drink, then shortly after I’d be peeing it all out and still feeling thirsty. So I wasn’t taking much food to try to reduce the need for porta-potty stops, and I wasn’t drinking enough because I was just peeing it out. My remaining loops seemed numbered. 

However, as the ultra truism goes, no matter how bad you’re feeling, everyone else feels the same way. On the third trail loop of the morning, Katie complained about a pain in her leg as she was leaving the start line. She fell behind. As I was finishing the loop she appeared in the trees to tell me she had dropped. I was stunned and saddened – we’d made a great team and she had kept my spirits up while my body had become damaged. With her gone it was just me and the two elites, Maggie and Dave.

Final 3, with Dave and Maggie. Guillaume wants to make sure I don't give up. Andy looks on. Jason and Heather are my rocks, supporting me for over 48 hours by this point. Credit: Jenn Coker

But not so fast. Two loops later, I was struggling to finish my loop on time (my completion times were slipping towards 58 minutes), and was running up the hill to Laz’s house, out of breath and keeping panic under control. I’d had the trails to myself since Katie dropped, as the others were on a much faster schedule. Suddenly, in front of me, was Dave. He was ambling up the path, looking like he was on a slow hike. I didn’t really know what to say, but as I passed him he gave me an encouraging word. I got to the finish with 4 minutes left, and the word from the support crews was that Dave might be dropping. This seemed absurd. I took some food and waited. With 43 seconds remaining Dave made it over the finish line. He was still alive. I figured he’d take off from there once the new loop began but he seemed to stumble off the start line. Maggie said to me as we left “It looks like Dave will be dropping. I hope you’re ready to go through the night – I want to get to 300 miles!” Rather than giving her a brave face, I was almost distraught – it was supposed to be Dave that, with her, was going to carry this race to new heights. “I think I’m going to have to drop” I said. “I think I have a virus; I’m feeling very weak.” A strong game face. Anyway, sure enough Dave didn’t make it far on loop number 53, and he was gone.

Final two. Credit: Gavin Woody

Suddenly, and, to my mind, shockingly, I’m in the final two. Maggie looks spectacular, as though she’s hardly warmed up. I feel like I’m about to faint. Three laps ago there were four of us and now we’re two. My crew sense my unease and get right in my face. By now, Jason and Heather, who are supposed to be leaving to get back to DC, have been joined by Guillaume and Andy Pearson. I’m saying I need to drop since I’m not eating or drinking properly. They are having none of it. They are telling me I can do this. They are telling me everyone in Hong Kong and New Zealand are sending them messages of support, willing me to actually win the event. I have no fight left. I don’t even have the energy to argue with them. So I let them give me food despite my GI issues, and give me drink despite the fact I’ll just pee it all out, and put me on the start line, almost physically picking me up and putting me in the corral. 

I've got nothing left to give. Credit: Gavin Woody

And this is where we came in. I’ve got nothing left to give but I give it anyway. Laz rings his bell. Maggie runs off the line. I walk slowly, getting to a jog as I get to the road. By the time I’m halfway down the hill, Maggie is already back up with me. “Keep it up” she says, willing me to stay with her. It is going to be a big anticlimax if I give up. From the final four to victory in a few loops would be something of a death spiral. Big’s Backyard has made its name from the incredible duels of the final runners, such as Guillaume and Harvey Lewis doing over 20 loops together in 2017 before Harvey stopped, or Johan Steene, Courtney Dauwalter, and Gavin in 2018. And like that, I get my third motivation. I’m not just continuing to extend my limits, or doing it for my crew; I have to keep going to honour the contest. Everyone who is watching wants this race to be extended, even my opponent. Despite wanting nothing else in this world other than to drop out of the race, I start another loop.

I can’t give up. If I give up, I’m giving up on Laz, and on Maggie, and on all my friends willing me on (and all Maggie’s fans doing the same for her). Maybe I can’t get the loop done, and if so, fine, but if I can then I have to. And two miraculous things happen. 

First, even though I’m low on energy and often starting slow, once I get about halfway around the loop and a little behind on the time, I can jumpstart some energy to get me moving quickly. As I did when I passed Dave, if necessary, I can summon the spirits to get me running up hills that a day ago I was struggling to hike. Where this energy source comes from, I don’t know. It can’t sustain me for an entire loop, but when I’m in desperation, it manifests itself from nowhere. Somehow, my legs aren’t even really hurting now. 

Second, the efforts of my crew pay off. The Immodium has controlled the diarrhea, so I’m starting to take more calories, and I’m drinking more fluids as well, and slowly I start feeling better. As the afternoon progresses, I begin increasing my speed. Whereas I was racing to finish with just two minutes to spare, I start improving my times, getting precious extra minutes between loops. Maggie’s not sure what’s happening. She seems pleased that we’re still playing the game and she hasn’t been abandoned, but it looks like she is also trying to do the calculus to figure out how strong I’m likely to become. Am I a threat? I’m trying to figure out the same thing. My thought process is that she’s way stronger than me right now, and so I still expect her to win; but there were plenty of other strong people who are now sitting in tents watching us and so it is not out of the question that I could actually win this thing. I never become confident or even entertain its likelihood. But right at the end, I do briefly wonder if I could win.

And so to the last loop, the final day loop of the third day. We get back to dusk. I know that final day loops are slow, and I have no margin of error, and by now it is raining and the path is slippery. So I better push hard from the start. I try to keep up with Maggie on the road going downhill, failing but much closer to her than normal. On the way back up I’m still behind but not as much as in previous loops. We head into the trees and I can see her ahead of me. We go up past the house then start heading down. I can see her some way in front, coming in and out of view as the path winds through the trees. At the bottom she is right there, having slowed down due to the slippery trail. She’s surprised to see me here, she hasn’t seen me at this point all day. But she takes off effortlessly up the next hill. I’m tired from the exertions of getting here, but figure that I’m ahead of my splits so I just need to move efficiently from here. I hike up the hill, through the V-tree, and get to the start of the upper loop.

This being a race report based as far as possible on facts, I apologise that from here we’re going to have to engage in some speculation. My ability to relay facts to you relies upon my conscious mind having a memory of them. This was shortly no longer to be the case.

The last thing I remember, I was hiking up a steep, rocky hill, for the 36th time, from which the trail starts to meander down and eventually back to the start of the upper loop. By now it was really getting dark and I needed to switch on my headlamp, so I did. Immediately, I started struggling to keep the images of the rocks on the path in my consciousness. Images of other shapes, faces, animals, people were shifting across in front of me. I tried to push them away but I could not. And I’m not really sure what happened after that. I am pretty sure I remember starting to run around the loop, which trends downwards from this point. But at some point, before I finished the upper loop and started to take the trail back to the finish line, it appears that I fell asleep while moving.

Here’s what I experienced. I found myself walking on trails through old abandoned Chinese villages in Hong Kong. I’m not sure I could exactly see the buildings, but I could see where they’d been. The trail was marked in the same way as Big’s but I did not recognise it or where it was going. I felt that there were people around me but I couldn’t see them. I didn’t think I was supposed to be going anywhere in particular, but I was exploring the paths. However, it was wet and cold, and I was only wearing my thin jacket, so I thought I should get down from the path to the city. Trouble was, I couldn’t see how these trails linked up with those that I would expect to take me back to the city streets. It was all a bit of a conundrum. Somewhere, deep in my mind, a thought occurred to me: “I think you’re supposed to be finishing this trail within an hour.” Given that I was moving very slowly, that did not seem likely. I felt like I was playing a game, and the phone had rung while we were playing, so we’d agreed to suspend it while we took the call. Only trouble was, the call was coming from inside my own head. I figured that we’d sort it out somehow. I kept wandering, and I seemed to stay on the path that I was on. At some point I came across signs and yellow tape that I recalled seeing on the Big’s Backyard Trail in Tennessee. I wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Eventually, while trying make sense of one piece of trail, I saw a headlamp moving towards me. “Who is that?” I asked. “Guillaume” was the answer. I asked “What are you doing here, Guillaume?” But then I understood, and I came back to the present. I was still in Big’s Backyard. I asked what happened to the race. “Maggie won.” I apologised to Guillaume (and  also Emma from Katie’s crew along with Jeremy Kaiding, who had also come) for letting everyone down, but they convinced me that I’d done well and that it was the cause for celebration. Guillaume gave me his jacket to keep me warm and we walked back to the finish line. I had still been on the trail and think I must have been slowly making my way back to the finish. When we got there, Laz had already presented Maggie with her winning medal, so the final prize presentation was to me, with the last DNF (Did Not Finish) medal. I’ve seen myself on video, thanking Laz and congratulating Maggie, and I am obviously still struggling to remain fully conscious – so apologies to all if I made no sense or seemed like a sociopath at the end! 59 loops and 246 miles had taken their toll, and I was the last entrant who failed to finish the race. In the history of ultras, a DNF has never been more satisfying. 

Laz had kind words for me, and in particular my effort to stay in the race. I ended up racing the whole third day and Maggie and I ran more than a marathon since Dave dropped. Sadly she did not have the opportunity to go through the night, and challenge the all-time record of 68 loops. I have no doubt that she would have done so. But at least I got her to 250 miles. That’s not nothing.

Some final thank you’s:

To Laz and Sandra, thank you for opening your home to 72 trail runners and their crews. You have generous souls and a wonderful backyard. You have created a unique event that pits people of all abilities against each other and lets them explore their potential. You are the best people.

To Jason and Heather, thank you for supporting me, and for challenging me to be my best. We did this as a team.

To Guillaume and Andy, thanks for joining my support team for the final day, and then looking after me once it was over. You are both my idols in the sport and to have you join my team meant the world to me.

To Katie, Maggie, and Dave, thanks for being a great final four. We had perfect balance along many dimensions. And to Maggie, we’re all in awe of that performance. One for the ages. Thank you for inspiring the best out of me.

To Scotty Hawker, my coach, thanks for believing in me more strongly than I believed in myself. 

To the running communities of Hong Kong and New Zealand, thank you for following along and being part of the journey. It was thrilling to represent you in the cauldron of Big’s Backyard. Make sure to send some excellent representatives next year.

Finally, to Sasha, Max, and Alyssa, thanks for your unyielding support and belief. None of this can happen without your love, and your generosity. Thank you for getting caught up in the craziness, and for leading the cheers as part of #TeamWill.