MASTERING HIS CRAFT: THE FINAL TEST BEFORE BIGS

The first day was an absolute blast! It was filled with incredible interactions and memorable moments, and everyone had great stories to tell. However, one of the best moments from each lap occurred at about the 5.7km point, there was a runner who I dubbed “Dad Joke Guy” (his actual name is Mark), who would stop and tell a different joke to a growing audience each lap. I actually paced my laps to ensure I would end up at the right point at the right time to hear the latest joke. There were just so many inspiring people to run and chat with, there was not a single lap I did not enjoy.

By 6pm the sun had set and we transitioned to the night course. This started at the opposite end of the corral, leading out towards the road. It was a T-shaped out-and-back course with two turn-around points. The initial stretch encompassed an 800m dirt road section, before turning onto the bitumen road for just over 5km, then back onto the dirt road to return to the start. Although relatively unremarkable, with little excitement beyond turning corners and changing direction at the turn-around points, the road loop served two crucial purposes. Firstly, injected a fresh sense of variety into the race every 12 hours, effectively breaking the monotony of running the same course repeatedly. Secondly, it created optimal running conditions for faster and more comfortable night laps.

The second and third days and nights passed much the same as the first, albeit with a gradually dwindling number of runners. Whilst the days were quite warm and sunny, the nights in Nanango tuned bitterly cold. We went from warding off heat exhaustion with ice collars and cooling towels, to freezing our asses off bundled up in multiple warm layers – at one stage I was wearing two t-shirts, two jackets, and two buffs. The temperature got as low as -2°C (although it was a “feels like” temperature of -4°C), cold enough to even give me frostbite on my cheeks. The nights were rough, however, by the time we got to the third night I actually found it easier than the first two. Perhaps it wasn’t as cold, or maybe I was just getting used to it. The upside of the nights was that I was actually getting quality sleep.

By sunrise on the fourth day, we were at the 72-hour point and had three runners remaining, representing three different nations. There was Harvey Lewis from the USA, Sam Harvey from New Zealand, and me from Australia. Each runner was looking strong, and I sensed that the event still had a while to go yet. At some stage on that fourth day, I experienced what can only be described as entering a flow state. It was like a switch had been flipped, going from a state of monotonous grind, to complete immersion in the activity, feeling deeply connected and attuned to my movements and surroundings. Everything felt balanced, from my sleep and nutrition to my physical and mental well-being. My performance felt effortless, and my endurance maximised. In simple terms, I was like I had reached a point where I could run indefinitely. This was my life now – run, rest, rinse and repeat.

As we approached the 90s, Harvey was showing signs of fatigue and sleep deprivation and was starting to slow down. Sam, on the other hand, was looking strong and had increased his pace, and so the two of them were no longer running together. Harvey finished lap 90 with about two minutes to spare, and then attempted lap 91, but timed out. He had done really well, he had raised his PB and the US record up to 90 yards, and until that point in time, it was the third highest total ever recorded in a Backyard.

It was also around that time that I started to have my first real negative thoughts. I found myself preoccupied with how strong Sam looked and wondering how much longer the event would go for. Two things I always say not to do – don’t worry about what anyone else is doing or how they look, and don’t think too far ahead. I was catastrophising, but my crew did a good job in talking me back into just focusing on myself and the present moment. I joked with them that it had taken me four days to reach that negative state.

By the end of lap 93, the roles seemed to have been reversed. I was feeling a lot better mentally, but Sam, in contrast, was starting to struggle. He hadn’t been coping well running on his own, to the point that his crew had come to my crew to ask if I could run with him for the remainder of the night laps, to help see him through to sunrise. Initially, I was apprehensive about the idea – it would mean I would have to veer from my plan and sacrifice precious sleep. And for a fleeting moment, the notion of leaving him to time out so I could take the win and end the race sounded somewhat tempting. However, I reminded myself of my main goal – to stay in the race for as long as possible. There’s an element of teamwork in backyards, and by helping him get further, he was, in turn, helping me get further. We were not far off the next big milestone of 96 hours (4 full days).

We both made it through to the day course together and then went back to running our own paces. With the sunrise, Sam seemed to have improved a little. However, the negative thoughts were creeping in again and my mind convinced itself that he had improved dramatically. I had made the mistake of focusing too much on winning and assuming I had it in the bag, but now it didn’t seem like it was going to be so easy. I became annoyed that I had strayed from my plan and not had my sleep. Little niggles started to seem like big problems, and I foolishly began to doubt my ability to keep going. Mentally, this was my lowest point of the whole race, but thankfully, it only lasted a couple of laps. By the end of yard 98 I was back in the right headspace, focusing on the lap I was on, but still prepared to go for many more. It didn’t matter how many more laps Sam was going to do, I was going to do one more.

I had my daily shower and was refreshed and ready for another 24 hours. As I got out and was getting myself prepared for the next lap, Sam came back in, visibly distressed. He was having trouble breathing and collapsed onto the couch. It didn’t look good, I honestly didn’t think he was going to be able to continue. Regardless, I still had to finish getting ready and get to the corral for lap 99, with or without him.

Much to my surprise, he came out there to join me. He was determined to beat the World Record. I was keen too, and although I knew it wasn’t far away, it wasn’t my main focus. My first concern was if it was safe for him to continue. It was borderline, so I decided that I would stay with him to accompany and support him around the course. Three laps seemed a big ask at that point, but Sam was not ready to give up just yet, so we just took it one lap at a time.

With sheer grit and determination, he managed to shuffle his way around the course. I was impressed by his ability to keep pushing on despite his obvious pain, despite knowing he wasn’t likely to win, his only focus keeping him going was to get to the World Record. We finished lap 99 with time to spare. Then 100. And before we knew it, we were about to take off on the World Record equalling lap.

Lap 101 was precarious. Sam’s situation hadn’t improved over the previous laps, but he still pushed on. He was visibly hurting and needing to stop occasionally to catch his breath. Now almost at midday, it was getting quite warm, and he seemed to be sweating excessively. I didn’t have much water left with me, but I noticed he didn’t have any at all, so I gave him the last of mine. At that point we still had about 4km of the yard to go, and I became seriously concerned that he might not make it. But we persevered and we got there, and I let him run ahead so he could cross the line on his own for his last time.

Sam had come to a decision with his crew and with the RD not to continue past 101. I knew he had wanted to at least run 102, to surpass the previous record set by the Belgians, but he had just about reached his limit. It would have been very risky to his health and well-being to continue. To get as far as he did, in the condition he was in, was nothing short of remarkable. He had selflessly persevered through pain and discomfort, beyond the point that he should have stopped, to give me the platform required to continue on and beat the world record.

We had started the race at 7am on Saturday. It was now 12pm on Wednesday and I was embarking on the WORLD RECORD breaking lap! It was bizarre to think that four and a quarter days ago, I began this journey alongside 54 other people, and now I stood as the sole runner completing the very last lap. I cruised around the course, fully immersing myself in the magnitude of the moment and the beauty of my surroundings. I savoured every moment of that lap, and as I approached the finish, the resounding cheers and high-5’s from the spectators, made it an absolutely extraordinary experience. I crossed the finish line, the actual finish line that marked the end of the race, and not just the end of a lap.

Gemma was waiting for me with open arms, overwhelmed with a flood of emotions that matched our shared joy and achievement.