Travelling Painfully

I stand before you a physically shattered husk of a man.  Limbs, sinews and muscles groan and whimper as they make a pitiful attempt to do the tasks nature assigned them.  But there's nothing new there so let's just get on with the blog entry.  As may have been mentioned in previous entries I had, in what can only be considered a fit of insanity, agreed to do a 22km race with a couple of friends through some of the more photogenic parts of the Blue Mountains.  It was in preparation for this event that I have been conducting bushwalks of a more than usually strenuous nature.  Despite such preparation three weeks of rain prior to the event meant that training had been curtailed and I felt that I was slightly underprepared going into the big event.  In this if nothing else I was correct.

Since the race started in Katoomba at god awful o'clock in the morning it behooved us to arrive the day before which with varying degrees of efficiency we achieved.  Organising credits go to my friend Jason who arranged the hotel and was the only one of us who managed to turn up before 6.30 in the evening.  I arrived somewhat after that time and my other friend Tony (yes, I have two) arrived while I was checking in for the race.  After signing a waiver of liability form somewhat longer than the average dictionary I was presented with a t-shirt, a race number with my name on it and a collection of safety pins so that i could attach one to the other.  Thus fully prepared we headed off to our modestly priced hotel.

Apparently I snore.  In fact I snored so much that Tony feared for my health.  I was quite touched by this until he pointed out that he had been tempted to murder me.  Fortunately we both survived the night and rose to greet the dawn with a minimum of cursing.  Preparation for my part consisted of taking prophylactic anti inflammatories and pulling constrictive bandages onto both knees and one ankle.  I looked like I was part way through a mummification process.  A brief squabble broke out between Jason and Tony as they vied to be the one to pull my brains out through my nose with a hook.  Fortunately neither had brought a hook with them and we realised that we were going to have to do the race after all.

A bus took us wending through the streets of Katoomba and Leura until it deposited us at Wentworth Falls within walking distance of the race start.  Of course pretty much anywhere is within walking distance if you have enough time and no inconvenient oceans in the way.  Still, a mere seven hundred metres later we were ready to start racing.  We would descend into the Jamison Valley (at least I think it was the Jamison Valley) and make our way roughly in the direction of Katoomba until we reached the escarpment at which point we would ascend said escarpment via some stairs that had been conveniently bolted to the cliffside until we arrive at the top.  Once at the top we would proceed along, descend again (dear Christ!) make our way through a more modest valley and climb yet more steps until we arrived at the Scenic Skyway a location which can be conveniently accessed by bus from Katoomba station.

I said we were ready to start racing.  In actual fact two thirds of us were ready.  Jason had wandered off to find a toilet and Tony and I fretted as the actual time for our cohort to leave approached.  Said time arrived and Jason was nowhere to be seen.  The organisers warned us if we didn't leave now we would have to wait for the next group.  Tony and I consulted, what would Jason do in our place?  We abandoned Jason and headed out onto the track.  Fortunately Jason caught us up having managing to talk his way past the organisers and set off in our wake.

It was semi early morning and we descended into a valley full of mist.  There will not be many photos in this entry as I was too busy trying not to die for most of it but we did manage a couple on the way down.  Going down was reasonably easy but the sheer length of the descent made me rightly concerned about the effort that would be needed to get out again.

A valley full of mist.  We are at the top and going to the bottom

A group photo and the last time I looked even remotely human

The descent was actually the best opportunity to take photos as on the uphill parts I was too busy concentrating on dragging one foot in front of the other.  Still this was in the future and it was with a light heart that I journeyed into the depths.  Once at the depths we descended into depthier depths but we were covering ground and even engaging in light conversation all seemed well.

There is scenery hiding modestly behind the mist

Indeed all was well for the first ten kilometres or so.  We were making good time, that is we were making good time considering we were saddled with me.  Jason and Tony capered around and generally gave the impression of energy to spare while I smiled politely and cursed them under my breath.  I had to curse them under my breath as I didn't have the breath to curse them above my breath.  Then we started to climb.  Of all my preparations the acquisition of a pair of walking poles was absolutely the best.  Without them I would still be down in Jamison Valley.  This wasn't the "proper" climb.  Just some up and down along the way.  I laboured and struggled up the rise gasping and staring at my feet as they slowly dragged me forward.  The descent which followed each rise wasn't a respite as it signaled that I would have to do compensatory climbing once it was over.

Three somewhat slower kilometres passed until we arrived at a checkpoint which had been set up to provide snacks, toilet facilities and an opportunity to collapse gasping on the ground and pray for death.  Members of the race support team greeted us with such cheerful enthusiasm and words of encouragement that I wanted to ram a walking pole through their heads.  Fortunately I was no longer physically capable of such effort.

Somewhat refreshed or at least with my heartbeat reduced to slightly sub lethal levels we set back off.  The previous climbs had been mere tasters as we now started properly ascending as did my heart rate.  I was struggling now, just plodding one foot in front of another with frequent ten second stops while I contemplated my life choices to date and concluded that I am an idiot.  Most people of my acquaintance have managed to reach that conclusion without getting stuck at the bottom of a valley they need to climb out of.  Meanwhile Jason and Tony continued on with a spring in their step turning back from time to time to offer encouragement and to reassure themselves that I wasn't dead.  It's a funny thing about encouragement, I actually hate it but after the fact I was extremely grateful for it.  They offered to carry various bits of my gear but I proudly (stupidly) refused.  The truth was difficult though the climb was I was nowhere near the end of my resources.  I couldn't do the climbs as fast as they could but I had no doubt about my ability to do it.

Finally we reached the escarpment where it became very obvious that absent the sudden appearance of an elevator the worst was most definitely yet to come.

We are at the bottom and going to the top

The worst duly presented itself for my delectation.  A flight of stairs going pretty much straight up.  The stairs clung to the escarpment and when the escarpment hadn't been cooperative had been bolted to the cliff side.  I quailed, Jason and Tony encouraged and up we went, very slowly in my case.  This really was the end of my resources, we had walked about nineteen kilometres by this time and I gasped and dragged myself up by literally grabbing the handrail and hauling.  The effort so far had also irritated my knee beyond the ability of support bandages and anti inflammatories to compensate.  It is difficult to limp while simultaneously dragging yourself up a near vertical staircase but if it had been possible I would have done it.

Somehow I got to the top with constant encouragement from Jason and Tony who both looked like they could run up and down the damn thing all day.  Once there I gasped in relief, the worst was surely over, a couple of short kilometres would bring an end to my suffering.  We walked along Prince Henry Cliff Walk past tourists who politely manage to avoid recoiling from the gasping, sweaty, limping wreck as it shambled by.  "Almost there," I promised myself.  Jason and Tony promised the same thing.  Technically none of us were lying.  Then we encountered the steps leading down into another valley.

"Oh fuck me," I said at what was now the top of my voice, a ruined whisper.

With further encouragement from Jason and Tony I hobbled painfully down the stairs and then hobbled painfully through a lush, wet valley which I would have loved to look at if I could have mustered even the faintest of craps.  Eventually we reached Furber Steps at the top of which the finish line awaited.  Time was running short.  If we wanted to officially complete the race we had to do it within seven hours.  The seven hour mark was rapidly approaching.  I gasped and whimpered up the stairs and stumbled along the last couple of hundred metres and crossed the line with several minutes to spare.  It later turned out that Tony had understated the amount of time left to "encourage" me forward.

With the race completed mutual congratulations were in order.  We shook each others hand and Jason and Tony started planning for next years race while I looked around for somewhere socially acceptable to throw up.  Huge thanks to Tony and Jason who stayed with me and encouraged me over the last half of the race.  They could got a much better time if they had gone on themselves as I suggested more than once but they stuck with me and we crossed the finish line together.  Now I just had the small matter over covering the hundred or so kilometres that separated me from home.  Fortunately trains presented themselves in good time just for once.

The next day I could hardly move.  Jason got up and played a game of soccer.  He was feeling a little sluggish but he blamed that on the fact that he indulged in McDonalds on the way home.  I exceeded my personal expectations by registering a pulse.