WFM Team::

The Kathmandu race holds special meaning for our team (my husband Dave, and I) as the 2006 Kathmandu was our first race. We were completely unprepared; we raced on hybrid bikes, which kept getting bogged, and thought we could protect our map by putting it in a freezer bag…half way through the race, we were navigating with pieces of soggy map that had disintegrated after swimming through Coochin Creek.

Now, two years later, we stood at the start of the 2008 Sunshine Coast Kathmandu. We were a lot more experienced and better prepared, but we’d done a 48 hour 65km bushwalk in Victoria over the previous weekend, and hadn’t fully recovered. We were not happy to see that the start of the race entailed a run up Wild Horse Mountain. I was sick to death of hills and my blisters had only just healed!

The organisers asked for a show of hands who hadn’t done an adventure race before. At least a third put up their hands, including a ringer; one of the Mountain Designs team (who usually win). Dave said, you stand at the front, so you can slow down all the faster teams! You must be nuts, I said, they’ll kill me!

I sidled further back, then suddenly, Ready, Set, Go! We were off! I was exhausted already and I could still see the Start line! I yelled to Dave, you keep 100m ahead, and get the control and I’ll wait. Everyone seemed to be passing me; but luckily Dave is really tall, so I could see him ahead through the crowds. When the path got steeper, I slowed to a walk…so did he. I waited with a big group near the top, trying to avoid the crush, until I saw him running back, and we ran down the hill as fast as we could. We passed heaps of people. I love running downhill!

After collecting the TA control, we ran to our bikes, passing groups of people in the Purple group who started off running. We prefer running first, as it is easier on the legs to finish on a bike leg; but the field was split into two groups, Blue and Purple; and Blue had to cycle first; so tough (on us, sob). Dave led the way, and I followed; my legs were ok on the bike; so I could keep up with him.

We soon hit mud. We’d expected the course to be muddy (it’s always muddy in this area and it had rained torrentially a couple of days before). I tried to avoid a huge puddle, but realised it was futile and just aimed straight at it. It was deeper than it looked; I landed hard, and skidded, but kept my balance. I could feel the sludgy mud splatter from the back wheel, up my back and down my legs. My trail runners instantly turned grey-brown. I looked like I had had a very nasty accident (which, as I am extremely nervous at the start of races was not beyond the bounds of possibility)!

We collected all the bike controls, and I managed to keep up with Dave without swearing at him. The name of our team is WFM (which stands for Wait For Me), as that is what I always yell at him during races, usually interspersed with a few choice expletives. Dave is mega annoying, he hardly trains, but is naturally fit, fast and a superb navigator, unlike myself, who despite training religiously, is slow, prone to frequent “damages” and gets lost in car parks. If he had more time for training, he’d be a formidable adventure racer and I’d never ever keep up with him.

As we peddled furiously down the last hill before the creek swim, I heard a loud, annoying noise coming from my backpack! Blast, I’d forgotten to turn off my old mobile phone, and someone was trying to ring me. I ignored it, but two teams passing me looked at me really funnily as it sang and warbled and tootled away like a flock of demented magpies. I’d never realised it had such an irritating ring tone. Mercifully, it soon shut up, only to start chortling at regular intervals because someone had sent a text.

We skidded to a halt at the swim TA, rapidly donned PFDs for the swim; and slid into the muddy creek. With any luck, the water would drown the blessed phone. I had brought my goggles, but didn’t bother getting them out of my pack. The PFD, hydration pack and trail runners made freestyle a real effort, so I tried breaststroke.  When we waded out through the mud, all the wet equipment felt like it weighed a ton. As we picked our way through a well trodden path through the forest (we obviously weren’t in the lead…) I heard a now familiar sound from my backpack…like an evil goblin, the phone was letting me know it was still alive…and hungry!

When we got to the track, we decided to take the longer route via the road instead of through the forest, which turned out to be a wise decision; another team told us afterwards that it was terrible; they had to push through half grown saplings, and were too busy protecting their eyes to see where they were running! We ran past the kayak section! Dave was ahead (as usual); I yelled out to him to slow down. He made a rude comment about me to the volunteers, something about his old carthorse.

When we finished the run leg, we were relieved to see that the kayaks were hard plastic; Dave has lower back problems and hates inflatable kayaks; and he keeps squirming around, and we normally look like a couple of drunk fishermen on a Sunday afternoon jaunt, it’s lucky we don’t capsize! We made it to the control and back with only the occasional squirm and without falling in; and the Mountain Designs team even waved as they passed us! The kayak seemed twice as heavy when we had to portage it back; probably from me having to do all the paddling!

Then we ran back along the road, back into the bush and out at the creek again. On the far bank was a huge group of racers, waiting for PFDs. I swam as fast as I could, not for their benefit, but just because I wanted to get rid of the PFD. Back on the bikes; we took a slightly longer route, knowing the other way involved a deep creek crossing, and didn’t fancy this on bikes (we heard later it was shorter, but thigh deep mud and chest deep water).

Then we hit the quagmire; a muddy grassy stretch that went on forever and ever and ever! I tried to ride at first, but it was really difficult; and there were two teams behind me trying to pass; I refused to move over into the (probably) snake-infested chest high grass, they could bl*dy well wait! Then the water got deeper, and deeper, and we had to get off our bikes. We turned off briefly, thinking we’d take a longer route via a road, but then changed our mind. We shouldn’t have. The grassy quagmire was tough! I kept thinking, oh well, at least the leading teams had it worse (evil snigger).

We were doing ok, but were being passed by heaps of teams, the previous weekend had come back to haunt me, and my quads and hips were burning. I’d finished all my water on my bike too, and wanted to keep the water in my hydration pack for the run leg, which I wasn’t looking forward to, now that my legs were so sore. But I knew we were nearly at transition, so once we escaped the torture, peddled as fast as I can. The bitumen road leading to the transition was a joy to ride, though some teams had already finished, and were sitting back sucking on beers!

Then we headed off to the run; my legs were killing me, and my wet shoelaces kept coming undone. We had to run around the mountain, collect some controls and then go under the highway via a drainpipe. There were four drain pipes leading under the road, half full of muddy water. I tried not to think how revoltingly full of toxic road runoff they might be, not to mention snakes or dead things. We squelched through the last pipe, it was dark inside and the traffic roared just above our heads. I waded as quick as I could, terrified there’d be a humongous accident above us.

After we safely got out of the tunnels, we headed up a forestry track but soon ended up in the bush again for a creek crossing; which was more like a creek dunking. Dave jumped in the creek…and disappeared. He bobbed up, it drops off quickly, he said, redundantly. I followed, and instantly sank over my head, weighed down by my gear. I told you it dropped off quickly, he said. I swam quickly across, and he pulled me up the bank. Hehe, I thought, now the evil phone is bound to die.

We cut across the bush for a bit, but then got to another track…and we even got a control exactly where we came out of the bush (well, we followed a path that looked like a herd of elephants, er adventure runners, had run along it; did I mention we were definitely not in the lead). I could hear traffic ahead, I knew the underpass was close, and I knew that just beyond the underpass, was the finish. I trotted after Dave, eating some GU gels, I was feeling stuffed, but got a new lease of energy now that I knew the finish was close…or maybe it was the GU?

We run under the bridge (through another creek) and up a steep hill. As I jumped a mud puddle (trying to keep my shoes clean, the underpass creek had just washed all the mud off) all of a sudden; tootle, tootle, warble, ping! Aaaagh! It was ALIVE! I continued to ignore it, and jogged slowly up the hill. Most of the teams who’d passed us at the quagmire were now behind us, probably because of all the creek shortcuts we’d fallen into, er, taken. One woman’s team, who we know win a lot of races (and this one too) did pass us, towing each other up the hill, but we kept in front of everyone else, and ran as best we could through the finish! Off with the vest and shoes! Aaah, joy; there were RedBull promo girls too! I quickly skulled a cold one….now where were those beers?

After the wonderfully cold beer, I finally checked the dratted mobile phone. It was a text from my oldest son, informing me he was coming to visit, or to be precise, “prepare 4 the king im comin over 4 dina?”

Thanks greatly to all the volunteers, and everyone else! We had a great time, and when I spilled my food all over my bike at the finish (it took ages to get the dried coleslaw out of my gears) I got a whole new plateful! And we didn’t win anything (natch) but had a great time. See you next year (and at the Urban Max…where I have been informed that I have to run up all the hills so we can beat our 4th place of last year…oh my poor little legs, Wait For Meeeeeeeee!”)

Heather Shearer