The Sometimes Unglamorous Side of Ultra Trail

I’m driven by intrinsic goals. External accolades are cool but they don’t fuel training or spark fire in my heart. Time is my compass. Every race I chase the clock. Not the podium or the people. Just the numbers. That’s how I measure performance.

Because this has never been about competition. It’s always been about sparring with time, mastering the craft, delight in nature.

So where does my disappointment come in?

Because I know I was capable of more at Lonely Mountain Ultra. My first 51k was perfect. 5:32. Slower than training pace, I chatted with runners, soaked in the views, stuck to my plan. Nutrition and hydration spot on.

Then the gut went. Bloating. Pain. Diarrhoea. I ran hunched over. Each sip of electrolyte, every gel meant urgency. Bush loo after bush loo. I still had over 50k and 2000m of vert to go.

What to do?

I stopped nutrition but kept hydrating. That’s my line, if I can’t hydrate, I pull the pin. So I sipped and pooped. Sipped and pooped. For eight hours.

My husband Tim joined me for the final 22k. His presence does something for me I can’t describe - I would never give up while he was by my side.

A forever memory: we came up behind another 104k runner clearly struggling. He moved to let us by when Tim said “Come on buddy, jump on the train.” And he did. There we were, three of us, single track, grinding it out. Me at the front, quietly trying not to poop my pants, our new friend breathing hard at the back, and Tim in the middle, the heartbeat of our little train, calling out, “Keep dieseling up”, “Brave effort, brave effort.”

I think of sprinters, of their shiny jewellery, high ponytails, their pretty make up and painted nails. If they are the peacocks of running, ultra trail athletes must be….what?

I don’t know. Whatever the opposite of a peacock is.

Bear in the woods comes to mind.

Ultimately…love wins. I’ve loved this sport for a long time. Though in 2005 when I did my first trail ultra, I never would have called it ‘sport’. It was a quest, an adventure, an endeavour. Us versus wild sort of thing. The sting of disappointment feels heavy right now. But it won’t rock my core. I still love trails. And that kind of love? It sticks.

Thank you AUTRA (Australian Ultra and Trail Running Association) for developing, supporting, and promoting endurance running and athletes. I am proud to be a member and female winner of the 2025 Australian National Long Course Championship at the Lonely Mountain Ultra.

Lonely Mountain Ultra is an exceptional event. This was my first time attending and LMU’s fourth year. They’re relatively new to the racing calendar, but you wouldn’t know it. Registration, pre-race communication, course marking, and aid stations all professionally done. Logistics matter. Details matter. They got the fundamentals right. But they also bought the vibe. The village felt like that – a village – I was particularly impressed with the dedicated crew tent, a massive space protected from sun, wind, and rain, with lounge chairs, tables, bathrooms, and supplies. Every volunteer had enthusiasm, an attitude of ‘what can I do to help?’ These people should never be underestimated at ultra’s – they’re in the trenches of races in remote locations for long stretches. Keeping the energy hour after hour isn’t easy. But they absolutely did it.

Lonely Mountain Ultra, you were an incredible adventure:

At dawn, the wild calls, beyond road and crowd Mount Canobolas rises where vineyards meet forests, trails are our home. Single track, back track, switch back, sweeping bend, sharp turn, we dance over dirt and rock and root. Up, up, up. Limbs ache, lungs burn, minds bend then break. Reassemble. Never the same. Down, down, down, flags in the wind, bells ring, finish chute, hold the puke. No distance or pain or pace. Only reverence. For nature. And awe at the person we were, and the one we have become.

Thank you Lonely Mountain Ultra. You get us. You get the heart and soul of trail running and trail runners. You made a mighty arena. Keep doing what you’re doing. And we’ll keep coming to play.