Getting Super Feral by David Martin

December 19, 2025

Feral pig ultra 100 miler

8 november 2025 - perth hills - wa

by david martin

Going into Feral Pig was a mixed bag for me. My training since Cape to Cape wasn’t as solid as it had been before that event. As more time passes between races, I start to worry I’ve lost my edge; the toughness you build with long-distance running. I worked hard to get here and don’t want to lose it. To reassure myself, I entered the Collie River Ultra (100 km) in September. I did well, got through injury-free, but my preparation was still below my expectations and that stuck with me. A quote I hear a lot in ultras came to mind: “Small problems get big fast in ultras, sort them out early.” Getting your head in the right place is just as important as the physical side.

Sean and the Ultra Series team organised training runs over consecutive weekends, covering different sections of the Feral course. They made them point to point so we didn’t have to return to cars, which made it easier to commit and get the long runs done.

About five weeks out I pulled my right soleus, again. Not great timing before a miler. Time on your feet matters, so this was a setback. Luckily, two weeks before race day I was able to get out for the last group run, came back feeling fine and believed I could finish within the cut-offs and stay injury-free.

Challenges Before Race Day

Then came another curveball. Because of track closures we’d have to climb Mt Cooke twice and keep within the same eight-hour cut-off. I’d trained on the southern mountains; Cooke, Vincent and Cuthbert and climbing Cooke in daylight was enjoyable, but having to summit twice, and one in the dark, was daunting. I run more cautiously at night so the extra climb would bite into my buffer.

Trail ultras always throw up surprises, and adapting is part of the appeal, but having that change pop up so close to the start rattled my confidence. Hearing from mates that Cooke was tough even once added to the nerves. The Sunday before the race I went back to do a Cooke return from Sullivans Rock, and I missed a turn on the way back; good lesson ahead of race night.

The Start: Sullivans Rock Loop (0–42 km)

Feral begins at midnight Friday, technically one minute into Saturday. I took Friday off, kept my feet up and managed three hours of sleep before heading to Perth Hills Discovery Centre, also known as Disco or Feral HQ. Starting an event after a full day awake means sleep deprivation is baked in. I know from experience things get weird after about 36 hours.

At 10 pm we hopped on the bus for the trip to Sullivans Rock. This year, with the loop changed, we did 42 km starting and finishing there, climbing Cooke twice. Just after midnight we headed off into perfect running conditions. Knowing the ground well, especially the turn I’d missed before, paid off; some front runners missed it and had to double back.

I spent the section with my mate Gabe Alves and a new trail friend Ben. At the Nerang checkpoint you have to tear out a “motivational” quote as proof you reached the turn; pretty funny trying to pick a good one at 3 am by headlamp. I checked mine for offensive language so I could frame it, packed it in a zip lock and went on.

Seeing sunrise on top of Cooke was magic. We hit Sullivans Rock just after 6 am, which was about the plan, but with less than a two-hour buffer. From then on, I aimed to keep at least that margin to make sure it didn’t mess with my mind.

Brookton Highway (42–73 km)

After a quick refill, I took off toward Brookton. Having only had a litre in six hours was a interesting, but I felt fine. As the morning heated up Ben pushed ahead and I started to slow as it got warmer. By 9 am it was hot. I knew sluggishness would set in and my water intake would increase.

This section has the climbs over Vincent and Cuthbert plus a few more little hills. It’s shorter, but with the heat and elevation gain it drags you down. The water drop at Canning was a lifesaver; by then I was going through water much faster. I carry Tailwind sachets to add at refills and I usually don’t eat at milers, unless something really appeals. In this section I drank nearly three litres over five hours.

I couldn't even bring myself to eat the bacon and egg muffins at Brookton. One of my mates was volunteering there; he helped refill my bottles and we had a quick chat. I’d missed the 50 km start by 50 minutes and seeing those runners go past last year, made me respect them even more.

Mt Dale (73–86 km)

This is one of the shorter legs and I know it well from training. The heat had knocked the stuffing out of me so I was jogging and walking. Met a woman in the 50 km race who’d sprained her ankle five km in; tough luck. She had no reception so I rang race control, stayed with her for a bit then pushed on.

The slow climb to Mt Dale is always a grind but rolling into the aid station feels good. My family had been debating where I’d swap out my green “Kermit” shorts (chosen by one daughter) for “Bluey” shorts (picked by the other). Mt Dale is past the halfway mark so it became the place for the swap. My drop bag had socks, Tailwind sachets with caffeine (the aid station mix doesn’t), spare batteries for my headlamps and a battery pack for my phone.

At Mt Dale I met a 50-miler stuck deciding whether to continue. He wasn’t hurt, just flat. I encouraged him to join me for the next leg and so we left together.

Beraking (86–97 km)

Days later, I barely remember this section. The 50 miler and I chatted about life and running, but he faded and told me to go on while he rested. Rolled into Beraking at sunset and decided to stay longer, about 45 minutes. for hash browns, a sit down and to stretch my tired arches.

Not checking my gear before leaving Mt Dale meant I’d left my spare headlamp batteries behind. Lucky for me, aid station captain Zoe sorted me out with spares, a lifesaver before the long night ahead.

Beraking to Disco (97–126 km)

The section to Allen Road and then Disco is so familiar I could almost run it with my eyes shut. We headed off just as darkness settled in; the climbs felt tougher after 100 km. Arrived at Allen Road around 10 pm where it was freezing, but the volunteers helped sort my water and food. After Allen Road, you climb straight up a staircase—brutal after so many k’s.

The path to Disco was a mental battle. By then my arches were throbbing, so I kept stopping to take off my shoes and curl my toes for relief. I understood why so many runners quit at Disco, your car, crew and the finish are right there. For me, dropping was not an option. I’d set myself the “Western Triple Crown”; three milers in the year; and I wasn’t giving in. I didn’t have an issue that would make me stop, so I knew I could keep going.

Arrived at Disco about 2:45 am, shattered. With 26 hours left before cut-off, my pace had dropped, arches were sore and my legs stiff from the cold. The big challenge wasn’t physical; this time I genuinely worried I would get timed out and DNF for the first time.

My mate Brad was there crewing for Kylie, who was about to go out with him for the “Death Loop” (the last 40 km trail back to Disco). I grabbed cola sachets for caffeine, fixed my socks (some creative improvisation with two “lefts”), put on my rain jacket and tried to keep pace.

The Death Loop (126–165 km)

The Death Loop is infamous. Massive credits for Brad; his “walk with purpose” mantra kept us moving even when we felt miserable. On the way to Camel Farm, we joined up with other runners and I learned about hallucinations; Kylie saw a meerkat, I saw a turkey, both just the same log on the ground.

The Camel Farm aid station was both weird and wonderful. The captain remembered my green shorts and we swapped hallucination stories. Heading out, we faced granite steps and rocky ground; not runnable even at the best of times. When the 23 km runners started at 8 am, we hit the granite stairs just as they did, but they made space and we pushed on.

Got to Kalamunda around 9 am, sweating under my rain jacket but too tired to take it off. After a quick refill, we set off back to Camel Farm. The heat picked up again and hallucinations became the topic of conversation between me, Kylie and Brad. I found out Gabe had pulled out at Disco, which was hard to believe as he’d been going strong. Shows anything can happen out there.

The Final Push (144–165 km)

With the heat climbing and my feet swelling, I focused on drinking cold water and keeping my temp down. Camel Farm volunteer Marty; absolute legend; poured ice water onto me and got me moving again.

Kylie and Brad pushed ahead and I told them I was ok. Grateful for their support, I knew I’d be safe if I just kept moving. The final stretch was long and surreal; the hallucinations returned. Saw rabbits holding an umbrella (a piece of concrete), a tilt tray truck (log on the ground). Everything felt a bit dreamlike.

In the last two km, after crossing Mundaring Weir, I saw a young woman in a running vest and poles, exiting the Mundaring Wier Hotel. At first, I thought she’d been to the market and was heading home and that I was hallucinating the whole thing. Turned out she was a lost 23 km runner struggling to find the finish. I told her I was in the miler; told her I was heading that way and we headed towards the end together, though I was still not sure if she was real.

The call came: “Milers coming in!” I crossed the line, 30 minutes ahead of prediction, happy to see my wife at the finish. Sat down, got my finish photo with other runners and volunteers, then headed for home.

165 km, 37 hours 19 minutes. 30th place overall, third in my age group.

Sean and the Ultra Series crew warn people not to underestimate the event; the conditions, climbs and heat make it tough. With 33 percent DNF (18 out of 55 not finishing), it lived up to the reputation.

Back next year? Maybe. I’ll aim to be better prepared and go quicker.