Not Jumping Off Bridges in the Gobi

The invitation arrived Friday the 9th of September. The Changan Ford Gobi 100km International Trail Race would be held in the Gobi desert of north-central China in 16 days. Unusually for me, I hadn't committed to a race for the season. I'd only been home a week, after 2 months overseas.

Cramming included my first sauna training. 30 minutes the first time. Awful!

I lay on the floor of the dining room for an hour, weighing up the pros and cons of going - or staying home to do a local WA race. In the end, my "regret principle" for life swayed me to say Yes! And then I promptly started doing some core exercises. Time to cram.

The race turned out to be one of the highlights of my running-related racing adventures thus far. It offered me new challenges. And I LOVE challenges! First, a 100km trail race in desert. Sand, dunes, dried mud flats, and thorny grasses. All new racing terrain for me. Second, it was a bit of a mystery race: no website, no list of competitors. The race had been run in 2015 as a 50km. This year there were two loops. Third, ever since I'd lived in China in 1992, I'd wanted to see this remote desert area along the Silk Road. Funny the way I got there 24 years later. And, finally, though I didn't know it beforehand, this race would stand out for its organisation. I have never attended such a well-thought out, well-run event that catered so much for the individual. Yes, there have been very organised races - but this one was so individually catered. It was a great privilege to be able to go.

I knew the organisers were inviting up to 100 elite 100km road runners from around the world. I had a very realistic understanding of my position amongst such women. It's not at the top. (In 2015, my 8hr32 100k ranked me 53rd in the world - 21 women ran sub 8 hours!) And I'd always been slow when running on the beach with my mates. But I wondered whether in an ultra distance race I might turn out to be more efficient in sand. I wondered if others might burn out their legs bullying their way along. Maybe all my snow running this year had improved my technique - sand is similar.

Signage outside the airport - similar adorned street poles in many places

Arriving at the race hotel 1.5 days after leaving home, I found the start lists. 102 men and 28 women. I quickly jotted down 16 of the names and did a DUV search. Six of those 16 had a 100k time better than mine. Then there were the wildcards. The dark horses. How about that woman with the 3hr36 50k time? How about the 11 women I didn't look up? What about the trail runners with no reported 100k road that I could compare to? There were women from China, Japan, Argentina, Spain, Hungary, India, the UK, Australia, Germany, Mongolia, and the USA. Last year's (50k) winner was there. At least two other women from last year were back. The men's race had similar depth, including Georgio Calcaterra (ITA - world champion with a 100k best of 6hr23) and Zach Bitter (USA - 6h44 best). You get the idea.

Pre-race ritual time. I painted my toenails red, China's favourite colour. I thought of a Chinese character for each big toe - two words to focus my mind on during the race. De for morality/ethics/courage (also in my Chinese name) and Xin for heart. I couldn't focus on winning, but I could focus on running the best race I could, with those principles to push me.

Saturday night 20 of us were invited to a gala opening ceremony and dinner 30 minutes out of town. An amazing riverfront venue greeted us, complete with light show over the water and music. Speeches were given by the mayor, the president of the International Association of Ultrarunners, a Chinese Olympic committee member, and the Changan Ford rep.

First course (excluding the banana peel addition) - I'll pass

They kindly offered to bring me roast potatoes - perfect!

Race morning busses took us 50 minutes out of town, in the dark at 5.40am. A police escort led the way. I tucked myself on the ground in a corner of the big athlete tent and tried not to look at anyone. All the stretching, lubing, and fidgeting can be unnerving. At 7.15, I put my finish clothes in the storage tent. At 7.30, we were herded to the start. They said men left and women right, but stopped enforcing it. Words were spoken, drummers drummed. A CCTV helicopter flew overhead, as did a drone. Though we'd been told it was a 7.40 start, I was caught off guard when the gun suddenly sounded at 7.40. I was expecting more speeches! We were off to a near-deafening but amazing set of fireworks. Wicked. Normally I abhor loud noises, but I decided to smile and appreciate the surprises that the day would hold. I was sure there would be more. Oh, yeah, there was, but nothing like I could have guessed!

I couldn't see any girls in front of me, but guessed there were at least a few. A lead vehicle with bubble camera mounted on top was in front. The course ran between 2 large blue and white "Ford" painted barrels, 5m apart. There were frequent barrels, so you could easily follow the "trail." For a short time, the leaders ran right behind the car, on the dirt/sand track, rather than on the actual course, adjacent. Then they seemed to sort themselves out and got onto the proper course.

At the 2km timing mark, just two girls were in front of me (though I didn't know at the time). The Mongolian was 34 seconds up and Chiyuki (JPN) was just in front - 10 seconds. I had seen one of them pass me in that 2k section - don't know which it was, but she was flying.

The next surprise after the sudden start and fireworks started around this point. The course started to weave back and forth a lot over a 4WD sand track. With the leaders running on the course (between the barrels) in front, the trailing men - and all the front running women with them - started to course cut. As I weaved my way back and forth, staying on the course, runner after runner passed me running on this "road." I felt silly, but also felt they'd see my example and move onto the course. After all, the race briefing had been clear. In Chinese and English, spoken in both languages and written in big RED BOLD font on the screen, we MUST stay between the barrels. Girls started passing me. Then the course headed far right before making quite a sharp left. As the leaders spread out further ahead, runners trailing could see that the leaders were off to the left. Why run all the way out to the right, just to go left? Surely not because that's where the course was?! I started running on this section, and at least 30 men and 3 more women passed me before KM12. I watched Valeria (ARG), Pamela (GER) and Midori (JPN) go by. I called out a few times. The second time, with one of the women in the bunch, as I crossed the "road" and headed away with the barrels, I called, "I'm running the Gobi 100. What are you guys running?"

Two anti-clockwise loops. (I should have turned on GLONASS.)

I got mad. I was disappointed. I'd wasted my fitness coming to race an event where there was no fair play. I couldn't compete with girls who were course cutting. I could ignore the men - that sucks, too, but that's the men's race and I'll just focus on my own. I could not ignore the fact that at least 4 of those 5 women in front of me now had done so by course cutting.

I felt stupid. I looked stupid. Looking behind me in the distance, with at least 30 runners around, I spotted only one Chinese man far back who looked like he was going to follow the course on this very wide bend. I was so disappointed in my running colleagues. These women had been to world championships. They had been to all manner of official races. Would I just run across the grass of a park if I saw runners on the other side of a bitumen marathon course? Just because the course ends up over there? Ummm, no. So how could I short cut here?

I thought about joining the course-cutting, so I could perhaps run more "equally" in the event. But then I imagined someone at the finish saying, "But did you know you were cheating?" I'd have to say, "Yes." And when they asked, "Well, why did you?" I'd have to say, "Cuz everyone else did." And then I could hear my dad saying, "And if everyone jumped off a bridge, would you?"

An example of where it was common to course cut - stay on the road on the left rather than the up/down barrel course

No dad, I would not. And I would not dope if everyone else did. I felt right in my convictions, but stupid at the same time. There I was, far off on the right, running between barrels, whilst a long, continuous line of runners passed me far to the left. I passed KM7 checkpoint and tried calling out the problem. Not enough English to be understood.

I passed KM12 in 6th place (though didn't know my position then) and tried again. No one seemed to understand. I was an hour into the race and churning up a lot of adrenaline and cortisol. I didn't like all this anger and frustration. I needed Plan B. Here's a race surprise - forget nausea or a blister. How about an international field of course cutters? I decided I'd have to quit. I couldn't be ranked against these women, as we were obviously running different events. As the course continued, we climbed little roller coasters of dunes and went through shoulder-high trippy grasses. That is, unless you ran on the adjacent vehicle sand track.

The Huacheng Lake "oasis" at 36k and 83k.

I made my plan to stop after the 50km loop. I'd get to see the whole course and I'd remain unranked. I pulled back my pace to make it a little cruisier. I'd come back to Perth and pick a race in a month or so to do instead. I put a smile back on my face and went back to enjoying the amazing surrounds. Sand dunes, red cliffs, old tombs and beacon towers, a lake oasis, and snowcapped 5,000m Qilian mountains off to the south. Little lizards stood up on their "toes" and darted back and forth like crabs on the beach.

Over the next 30 minutes, I passed Pamela and Midori back. That surprised me. The next surprise of the day. I'd pulled back my pace, yet still caught them, as the course shared the most "natural" line for anyone to follow. Then we hit a tougher section around KM20. I was 9 minutes behind the Mongolian girl now, though I didn't know it. Just a few minutes separated me from Valeria and Chiyuki. By KM23.5 checkpoint, I had caught Chiyuki and was right behind Valeria. But I couldn't stay with Valeria, as I moved into soft dunes and she stayed on the road. As I went up and down and zigzagged between low shrubs, I kept my happy on. I wasn't racing her, anyway, as I was planning to quit. I was going to enjoy my Gobi 50 experience. I liked the challenge of learning to climb the dunes most efficiently and bombing down the far side with impunity because of my total-coverage Raidlight sand gaiters - how awesome that was!

Coming through 50k.

I don't have the rest of the splits yet, so it's a bit blurry from here. But I passed another girl. Then I thought, "Okay, I've passed 4 women back. If I can stay in front of them - if they don't pass me again course-cutting, I'll stay in." I came into KM50. Tao, the most amazing race coordinator, was there. I quickly told her the problem and that I debated quitting. I emphasised that I did not see it as the organisation's fault. They had a well marked course and had given a clear race briefing. She promised to do something. But at the same time, she said, "But how did 4 women pass you? You are in 3rd place!" As I filled my little handheld and soaked myself down, I called back, "I passed them back in the straighter sections!" And off I went into lap 2!

I passed the 2nd place girl right away and kept looking back to see if she was following the course. We were headed for another bad section for short-cutting - that really wide right sweeping bend. I got to the furthest barrel, on the widest part of the course, and touched it. Spontaneously, I found myself simply saying, "Ethics" and looking up for those big mountains. As if nature would be my witness. I had to strengthen my resolve, as I still wrestled with the part of me that felt stupid for following race rules when no one except those lead men seemed to.

I'm not wanting to cast stones. There are things I've done that should best stay in the closet with the skeletons. But I aspire to live more ethically every day in my life. And by setting the intention, try to make my actions flow on from that. Then I can say I've done the best I can. Every one of us is capable of that. There is a call in our sport to make it clean of doping. A clean sport is not just about doping. It's about fair play.

These little guys had really good camo! And great sand technique ;-)

The afternoon hours ticked on, with me running mostly in solitude. Aid stations came every 5km or so, which provided an opportunity to refill my small handheld, drink another 330ml bottle at the aid station, and soak myself down. Heat management and running efficiency in the sand were the strategic focuses. I was going through my 7 scoops of Perpetuem (~800cal) and 9 gels (~800cal), so had to augment with aid station bananas. I don't really like bananas. But I was carrying about all the calories I could stuff into my pockets and handheld! Between the fuel, plus mandatory space blanket, whistle, and other treasures, my shorts were so heavy I had to knot the waist cord tight to keep them from bouncing down off my hips! By the finish, I had a new injury - an internal bruise in my belly muscle caused by the pressure of that knot.

Though I haven't been able to get the rest of the aid station splits yet, my memory tells me that I later caught Valeria again - during lap 2. She had such distinctive fluoro shorts on :) She was on the road on the right of me, whilst I was going through dunes. We were approaching an aid station. Again, I couldn't stay with her, based on the terrain we were in. Well, maybe I could have for a while, but my exertion level would have been too high, covering more and hillier ground. I know from asking at aid stations late in the race - after about 80k, that she got about 8 minutes on me and stayed there. But I never tried to chase her down. Really, we were running different events.

Late day, based on the cloud cover.

I started watching my back with 12k to go. I was going to have a hard time accepting a pass, unless I knew the girl had run the true course. It was around this same time - about 9 hours in/~4.30pm - that the sun disappeared behind a cloud. I looked up to see some serious looking clouds off to the southwest. The storm looked to be a few hours away, so I thought myself safe, but wondered for others behind me. As the air cooled a bit and I ran on flatter terrain, I thought about those speedy road runners behind me. I focused on form. Efficiency. Power through the arms. Two more aid stations, two more soakings, and one beautiful apple as a change from bananas to take me into the finish. 2k to go.

I saw the white "tent city" of the finish in the distance and saw the sandstorm coming between me and it. A curtain of orange was making its way towards me. My Montane "tubie" came off my wrist and went over my neck to cover mouth and nose. My sunnies went on again, despite the darkening sky. I took a visual on the finish tents and prepared to hold bearing. The storm was over me within a few minutes. I popped out with 1km to go.

Storm's brewing behind the finish!

The vehicle with the bubble camera was there, waiting for me. It was funny having a giant eyeball rotating towards me. The desert sand truck fired up to follow the camera crew in case they got stuck. I smiled at the guys and said, "Let's bring it home!" As I approached the finish, the drummers started up on my left. I ran though the tape, right into the friendly arms of one of the Aussies. It was a bit of a blur, but I remember looking him in the eye and saying, "Yes!! I did it! Without cheating!" I tried to say it a bit hushed, as I didn't want a camera crew or someone to hear without context and I didn't want the race to suffer because of the problem caused by some of the runners.

It was a victory for ethics. Not my victory. This medal is a gold for ethics. We all have this power. The power to stand true to what's right. To fair play. This is how we save the world. It's how we need to BE in the world. It's way more than just running.

Getting to the grand Qilian Mountains post-race

Summit Sandwiches of my Life

Atypically, my running calendar aligned so that I had a rest/recover/rebuild phase from June through August. This was awesome for a couple reasons. One was that without strict daily training goals, I could more flexibly spend a few months being a paraglider driver. Drivers are something most paraglider and hangglider pilots (like my partner) need in order to pursue the most fun in their sport. The other reason this timing was awesome was because I was free to run up as few or as many mountains as I wanted on my North America trip, without adhering to any regimen for time on feet, distance, hill repeats, and the like.

My season's running goals were two: (1) Trial a traditional speed work program to bring down my 5k/10k time, doing weekly anaerobic threshold (AT) and tempo runs. (2) Eat summit sandwiches.

Idaho Peak, BC, Sandwich #7

Put up your hand if you want to read about my sweaty, lung-busting, near-vomit-inducing, way-too-early-morning, precision-based speed sessions.

Right. So let's talk about summit sandwiches! Of course, "running" up peaks to 4,400 metres actually is very sweaty, lung-busting, and near-vomit-inducing. And it sometimes requires very early morning starts. And precision in route-finding and organisation for a day in wilderness at altitude. With bears.

But all that is forgiven because...it's mountains! Between July 11th and August 31st, in the Canadian provinces of British Columbia and Alberta, and the US state of Colorado, I ate 36 summit sandwiches. They were all special. Here are some.

Lowest Sandwich: 946m. Mount Woodside, in the Fraser Valley near the BC coast. That was the second sandwich. A 28km run (partly because of navigation issues trying to find the true summit via logging roads and scrambling and bushwhacking) and required 1,000m of total climbing to get there. This was the summit at which I endured my one-and-only horsefly attack (he didn't get me).

Shortest Distance to Sandwich: 2km. Grouse Mountain, in Vancouver's north. The "Grouse Grind" is a 2km, ummm, grind (what else could it be?) to climb nearly 800m of rainforest trail to the top of a ski hill. That was sandwich #1 and occurred the day after landing in Canada.

Fastest time to Sandwich: Grouse Mountain, above. Less than one hour!

Mt Brent's lessons begin.

Most Lost Sandwich: Mt Brent, BC. In a nasty rainstorm that saw us running in a cloud, we attempted to reach the summit of Mt Brent via the logging roads and trail. Notes and signage weren't great and lack of visibility made things worse. Being soaked and cold compromised my Raynaud's-affected partner. In the end, we had to abort, having our summit sandwiches out of necessity for the metabolic warmth they'd provide more than anything, on what we thought was the saddle below Mt Brent. We later found out we were on the saddle below Sheep Rock! A valiant 22k+800m sandwich.

Most Sandwiches in a Day: Two. Athough on two occasions I attained four summits in a day. One just can't be greedy with the sandwiches. So I split my sandwiches in half on those days. Each of those outings included a climb, then ridge and saddle traverses to gain the other three summits. One was the Mt Glasgow to Banded Peak traverse in Alberta (sandwiches all around 3,000m). We spent the day eyeing the growing instability in the weather and descended the last peak as the thunder started. The other was known as "Decalibron" in Colorado (stands for DEmocrat, CAmeron, LIncoln, and BROss) all 14'er peaks in the Mosquito Range, around 4,300m). Those sandwiches were eaten in 50kph wind, sleet, hail, or at least in a cloud.

Mt Democrat combo sandwich day starts with 50kph sleet in eyes.

Most Time Run to Earn Sandwiches: Almost tied at 8 hours a piece, the Banded Peak traverse (35km +2,200m) and Decalibron 17km + 1,200m). Distance and elevation differences had to do with my different adventure partners on each day and with differing altitude.

Furthest Distance Run to Earn a Sandwich: The 46km Skyline point-to-point trail in Alberta, with over 1,400m of climbing. Though there were two passes plus a climb to a "notch" to reach the high plateau, it was felt the run only warranted one sandwich. Two were consumed, but only one counted.

Toughest Sandwich: Based on my rigorous scientific method (the "this-is-a-slog" feeling), it would have to be Silver Star Mountain, a ski hill near Vernon, BC. Though some people (everyone) would drive from town to get to the ski hill, I ran. Alone, uphill, starting painfully early, in ridiculous humidity for 30km + 1,500m. I inhaled that sandwich so fast I didn't taste it.

Cheekiest and scariest sandwich: Mt Evans

Cheekiest Sandwich: Mt Evans, Front Range, Colorado. Though Mt Evans is a prestigious "14'er" (a mountain that rises to over 14,000 feet (4,267m)), it also has America's highest drive-able road to its summit. So it's a bit hard to get excited about summitting this one, hiking in on a low trail, just to meet the car crowds in the top carpark. I decided to earn my sandwich by doing a 2.5km climb of 430m. Being the day after Decalibron added a bit of kick, as did my choice to scramble to the summit and make it a Class 2, rather than taking the Class 1 walk-up trail. This culminated in the scariest summit sandwich, sitting on a cliff edge with a drop back to the lake where I started! It was also memorable as the first 14'er day I could wear short sleeves at the summit. Briefly.

Highest Sandwich: Mt Elbert, Sawatch Range, Colorado. The highest mountain in Colorado, at 14,433 feet/4,404m and the second highest in the contiguous USA. I actually achieved the summit twice, by running up first, sheepdogging back to Rolf, then hiking back up a second time. Only one sandwich claimed, though ;-)

Saddest Sandwich: The one I forgot in the hotel fridge. Mt Sherman, sandwich #31. After a night spent  hotly debating start time, studying wind direction and speed, temperature, lifted index, cape, and a myriad of other weather factors, and a morning spent hiking up to 4,278m in sleet and snow with wet feet and 200 metres of visibility, I reached the summit in sub-zero temperatures to find I'd forgotten my sandwich. At least I had an espresso gel. I ate that sandwich later, from a hotel carpark in the next valley to the east, looking up at another face of Sherman.

Most Enlightening Sandwich: Cirque Peak, Alberta. I climbed with my partner to the 3,000m summit. There was no one else there and the skies offered a pleasant change with benign weather. There were glaciers and mountains in view in every direction. After a minute, I said, "We should get going." He looked at me in shock. "Where? Back to the ----y hotel room?" It really struck me how Type A I am. Impatient and ambitious and goal-oriented. I need to tick everything off my list in order to relax. Even relaxing.

A view from Cirque Peak. And I want to leave?

Types of Sandwiches: All on gluten-free bread. The first ones were topped with almond butter and raspberry jam. That raspberry jam jar seemed endless. Finally I was on to peach jam. When the almond butter ran out, I experimented with tahini and it was awesome! When peach jam finished, I continued my brave culinary experiment with a blackberry-jalapeno jam (and tahini). Spicy hot summit sandwiches on cold mountains are the best!

Worst Day Ever: Forgetting sandwich #31 (see saddest sandwich)

Best Day Ever: Every day. If I remembered to tell myself.

Descending Castle Peak. The 0.75 summit

Number of Colorado 14'ers Sandwiched on: 8.75. There are 58 14'ers in Colorado, but only 53 are considered "official" because the other five rise less than 300 feet from the saddle that joins another 14'er. I ate a sandwich last year on Mt Sneffels, which isn't included here. This year, I ate sandwiches on Mts Elbert, Massive, Democrat, Bross, Lincoln, Evans and Sherman (technically, a gel there). Mt Cameron is a 14'er that rises only 138 feet above the saddle with Mt Lincoln, so it's one of the 'dodgy' ones. Castle Peak's sandwich represented the 0.75 worth in my total. The huge dumps of snow all week, combined with daytime melting, had left very crampon-able icy conditions near the summit. And my sandwich didn't come with crampons. So I had to abandon 200m below the top and eat my sandwich there.

Summit Sandwiches of My Life was a life-changing journey of discovery. I discovered a thing called the Colorado Monsoon. This is what causes crazy afternoon thunderstorms from mid-July through August and dumps new snow at summits. Late September and early October are much more stable times to eat sandwiches in Colorado. I discovered how much I like thimbleberries (but saskatoons are still the best). I discovered that pikas are called "whistling hares" and marmots are called "whistle pigs" and the latter are related to squirrels. In addition to the pika, squirrels, groundhogs, chipmunks, and marmots, I saw black bear, bighorn sheep, and a red fox (not a scourge in North America, but a beautiful indigenous animal). I was hounded by a few deer flies (small, silent, but painfully bitey things) and one horse fly in Canada, but no mosquitoes anywhere. My most useless gear would have to have been my bug spray - it was the most bug-free summer I've ever spent. The life-changing part? Well, that might have just been for dramatic effect.

Unique Tibetan-style prayer flags on Red Lady/Mt Emmons.

Once again, it was reinforced to me how much planning and good gear make or break an adventure. For every summit, there was between 2 to 4 hours of planning, reading blog posts, drawing mud maps, searching for GPS files, and agonising over weather forecasts. The pack always contained: 2 litres of water, SPOT tracker/emergency PLB, space blanket, whistle, pencil, duct tape, flagging tape, paper towel, anti-chafe lube, Compeeds, compression bandage, painkillers (never used), small torch, sunscreen, bug spray, rain/wind jacket, camera and phone (on airplane mode). It usually also contained: bear spray, spare gloves, beanie, thermal top (if not wearing one already), down puffy jacket, water filter, and knife. Plus food. My favourite gear had to include the UltrAspire Omega 8ltr pack, Udo's Oil the Machine beanie (I wore that thing daily in Colorado!), Icebreaker gloves and thermal, Injinji Trail midweight socks, The North Face Summit Series jacket (bought last year when my suitcase went missing), Garmin 920XT, and Inov-8 x-talons (I wore Salomon S-Lab Speed on some of the more gnarly bouldery mountain runs and I'm happy to say they have finally made a great grippy shoe for wet rock, but for comfort, I can't beat the x-talons. Which have always been grippy, too. Their lugs are just more prone to wear on bouldery stuff.)

To keep healthy day-to-day for big miles at big elevation, we cooked our own amazing food with a portable Coleman stove. Saved money that way, too, and had heaps of easy yummy one-pot curries (great way to get some extra turmeric!) And I'll admit it - I'm way too impatient for restaurants. With our esky/cooler, I could carry Udo's Oil with me and I kept up my daily doses of cinnamon and Race Caps. I found a few fantastic sports chiros along the way to get things moving better, especially after a couple terrible hotel beds. The Lacrosse ball, golf ball, and travel roller earned their keep.

I hoped my summit sandwiches adventures would give me a platform for which to finally answer the big question. The one that sometimes comes out as "What should I do with my life?" but can also be formed in words such as "How can I be happier?"

I can stand on any single summit and usually count hundreds more around me. So many I couldn't eat sandwiches on them all in one lifetime. All summits will not be climbed. The important thing is just to eat a sandwich on the one you have climbed. And taste it.

Revolutions (Guinness World Record Attempt)

Round and round and round she goes, where she stops, no one knows.

Breaking the Guinness World Record for greatest distance on a treadmill in 12 hours was in some ways a waiting game. Spinning, fueling, cooling, toileting, stretching...and waiting. It wasn't going to be until at least the 11 hour mark that we'd know if we were going to achieve our goal.

And any second it could all be gone. A momentary cramp, tripping over my own two feet and coming off the back would mean certain injury and end to the challenge. Losing power to the gym, an a/c breakdown, video recording failure, a witness not showing up... I tried to come up with Plan B's for anything that could happen. But still, we'd have to just keep working away, spinning, cooling, fueling, stretching, timing, photographing, and recording until we could see 118km on that 'mill.

Given my #yogafail broken toe in March and then giardia (if you don't know it, think "nonstop gut cleansing parasite") at the beginning of May, my top-end speed was off. But endurance was there, as far as I could tell. So I wrote a plan for 126km. If the planets aligned, I'd squeeze out a little more. The key thing was not to blow up in the first 6 hours. I had 20 minutes of time-off-treadmill allocated, but I hoped that I wouldn't need all of that. Indeed, the treadmill finished with 11:51:14, which means paused time for breaks totalled 8min46. The extra 11 minutes represented 2km's right there.

As usual, I fuelled on my reliable Hammer Nutrition Perpetuem, with peeled pear every 30 minutes. No nausea and no energy lows. In total, my estimates are about 250 cal/hr, with 90 cal/hr coming from pear. I used the palatability test to confirm whether to continue taking Endurolyte tablets every 30 minutes ("Do salty crisps sound good right now?" If yes, take an electrolyte pill).

Finished. Two kg heavier with the soakings?

Though there were no energy lows, there were mental lows. Of course. There were times I told myself I'd never race again. (Amazing how the brain can believe such lies!) About 4 of 12 hours were spent dug in hard at the "business end" of things, engaging in seemingly constant efforts at keeping my body happy. Mostly, it was an effort to keep cool enough. My poor crew! I developed a bizarre rule about misting me down with the pressurised plant sprayer. Usually I'd insist he start with my right shoulder, then I'd instruct him where he could spray next. The calves were usually last. At the time even I thought it was rather odd, but on reflecting, I think I knew there was a risk I'd get a muscle cramp in my hammie or calf if I had water sprayed on it suddenly. Between all the misting and the wet sponge I used, I looked quite the picture of drowned rat at the end!

Thankfully, there were no cramps. One of my biggest fears. Though on stretching once, doing high knee lifts whilst walking on the mill, I drove my knee right up into the console! Ouch!

In the end, there were revolutions of the treadmill belt totalling 128.62km. And we raised some awareness and funds for mitochondrial disease.

Was there a revolution in my thoughts on treadmill running? Briefly. For a short time, I resolved my fear and loathing of the mill. I thought I might almost like them. But a month later when I jumped on my trusty "Jim" for a 5 minute warm-up, all the old feelings were back. I was dizzy. It felt clunky. The evolution of the mill runner had come full circle.

It was time to gorge on trails and mountains for a few months.

Celebrating the ratification of the record with crew, witnesses, and running friends.

Training for World Record Treadmill? Break Toe, Multi-day Race, Get Giardia

In mid-February, after completing the Montane Yukon Arctic Ultra 300 mile race in record-breaking time, sleeping less than 8 hours in 6 days, I found myself at my Canadian massage therapist's office. I was still trying to get my body clock back into a normal sleep regime. I had very bad neuropathy in my big toes and second toes - a mysterious ongoing numbness, preceded by days of stabbing pain in the feet. I could barely put a sentence together coherently yet.

Dave Proctor obviously sensed my weakness ;) As he dug into my muscles, he told me about the MitoCanada Guinness World Record group challenge that he and about 25 other local runners were doing on May 27-28th. He noted that their female 12 hour runner had pulled out of the event. And then he hatched the scheme....

I was thinking to go fun running in Nepal. Dave had other ideas. They look nothing like this.

So it began. I put in an application to Guinness, not confident there was enough time to get the application approved. I got back to Perth and went out for a secret 2 hour training run on a treadmill, to see if I thought I could get over the insane dizzy feeling when I use a treadmill. (I'd used a treadmill a total of 3 times, with 40 minutes being my max.) I contacted the Mito Australia team (AMDF) and we started conversations on how to coordinate our efforts between both countries. Frighteningly, it was coming together.

In Calgary, Canada, on Friday 27 May at 4pm their time, TeamMito starts running to break the following records:

Greatest Distance solo (male) on a treadmill in 12 hours - Dave Proctor (133km)
Greatest Distance solo (male) on a treadmill in 24 hours - Dave Proctor (257km)
Fastest 50km solo (female) on a treadmill - Arielle Fitzgerald (3hr55min)
Fastest 100km solo (female) on a treadmill - Arielle Fitzgerald (8hr 35min)
Greatest Distance on a treadmill by team of 12 (male) - 350km
Greatest Distance on a treadmill by team of 24 (female) - 317km

And at the same time, being Saturday 28 May at 6am Western Australian time, I start running to break the current ratified record for:

Greatest Distance Run on a treadmill in 12 hours (female) - 120km

The record as I write this is now 110.24km, set by Susie Chan in the UK in January this year. Suzy Swinehart, a US runner, passed that with nearly 118km in March and I'm assuming it will get ratified. So, it's up to me to run at least 120km. Using my energy #runningforthosewhocant

I would like to raise awareness for this little known and poorly understood set of diseases known collectively as one: Mitochrondrial Disease. And I would like to raise some funds to help families. And I will run over 120km on a treadmill in a gym to do that.

I promptly got back to running in early March. I built up to a nice 130k+2400m week. And then on March 21st I broke my 2nd toe. At yoga. Downward dog to warrior. I'm either a dog or a warrior, but nothing in between! Therein began my first lot of true mental training for the treadmill challenge. It was weeks of mind-and-butt-numbing stationary biking, nerve-wracking mountain biking (our pea gravel is nasty!), followed by anti-gravity treadmill running at 65% of my body weight. My quads over-developed, my lungs lost power, my hammies and bottom got sore, and my mind was unsettled.

Rocks? What rocks?

And there was this other matter of a little training run I'd planned in Nepal, on the Nepal-Tibetan high plateau. So with my toe buddy-taped and my roomier Inov-8 Terraclaw 250s packed, I hopped a flight north for the 8-day Mustang Trail Race from mid- to end-April. I ran about 200km + 9,000 metres (mostly 3000-4000m above sea level) in a very stark, arid, windy, and remote part of the world, north of the main Himalaya range. With a need to lose 2kg, I spent the days very calorie depleted. Like almost-in-tears calorie depleted. Despite most of us runners not being there to "race" but to run, learn, appreciate, savour, and strengthen, I found it impossible to get away from the daily commentary on who I passed along the trail or where I ranked overall. #yogafail toe coped amazingly well with the very rocky and often steep terrain, by employing a cautious pace and careful foot placement (where on earth did I get the idea the terrain was smooth?!?), though it spat the dummy on Stage 6 (phantom pain?)

Hey, giardia, are you hiding in here?

I came away stronger, mentally and physically, until that last day back in smoggy Kathmandu. By the time I was home, I had a good case of "Kathmandu lung" and what I thought was a food-borne illness from Singapore. After 9 days of "Singapore belly", I had to give in and accept that it was Nepalese pets I'd brought home. In the form of giardia. Giardia is a nasty zoonotic disease, commonly called "beaver fever" in North America, and commonly passed on through poo (animal or human animal) in untreated water. Only about 50% of people who get it show symptoms. Others just pass it on. Giardia parasites consume the amino acid called arginine in our bodies. That's necessary for producing nitric oxide. And creatine. These things all play a role in healthy bodies, and might be of particular interest to a body that wants to run long and fast. Giardia can therefore not just cause diarrhoea and nausea, but will almost surely increase blood pressure, increase healing/recovery time, decrease immune function, decrease muscle strength, increase ammonia levels in the body, mess with hormones, and limit the formation of ATP for energy.

No wonder my 14km tempo run at half marathon pace this week felt like 14km at 10km pace.

But the good news is that I've had so much mental training now that nothing can stop me from achieving this treadmill goal. It's been the most unique training programme I've ever used. I don't recommend it, but I can say that my 5k PB occurred the same day I had a root canal.

Little human. Big geological scene.

I've had some obstacles along the way, but they are nothing like the people with mito disease. And I have always been able to rest in the mantra that things were going to improve. My sufferings are temporary. I am able to run 120km on a treadmill.

During the event, feel free to check in at the live YouTube broadcast. If you're local to Perth, drop by Zoom Fitness Osborne Park and watch the "Mama Bear" hamster in action. Donate and run a 15 minute segment on the treadmill next to me.

Please give. If not to this, then in some way, in your own way, give some kindness to someone else.

My (Sub)Arctic Gear Review

This one's for those niche nutters who might like to pursue a snowy/wilderness adventure and would find such a gear review helpful. It will at least give you another option for muddying the waters ;)

What follows is the list of gear from my pre-race blog post for the Montane Yukon Arctic Ultra and commentary on what I found useful - or not so much - and why.

My world fit into a 5 foot pulk. The map case eventually cracked from cold.

• Rented Carinthia ECC Expedition 1200 sleeping bag (rated comfort -27C/extreme -65C)
• Sadly, the bags did not arrive from the sponsor in time. I was allocated a brand new The North Face Inferno 800 fill bag, rated to -40C. There was no "comfort" vs "extreme" rating, so one might like to assume -40C is comfort. Of course it's not. Which is what I've found with all sleeping bags over the years. The rating is what you'll stay alive in. Temperatures never dropped below -35C as far as I'm aware (maybe even not quite that low), but even getting into the bag warm (as in my body was warm) and wearing more than base layers, I was shivering within an hour. Putting a down jacket under the bag (on top of the sleeping pad), and wearing another down jacket, made it possible to sleep for up to 1.5 hours. I loved the TNF Inferno bag itself - very well thought out, easy to get in with the centre zip, great draft collar, handy small internal stash pocket. It just wasn't warm enough for this event for me ... likely partly because of my low body fat. I'm not normally a very cold person.
• Exped vapour barrier liner
• What can you say about sleeping in a plastic garbage bag? The liner was robust and did the trick, though I really didn't have to worry about sweating into the sleeping bag, given my issues with the cold!
• Therm-a-rest Zlite Sol sleeping pad



The Zlite Sol

• Closed cell foam is certainly functional for this kind of event. It's given an R value of 2.6, which is decent amongst sleeping pads, but it's still really only functional to around -1C. Even the best down sleeping bags are compromised as soon as you lay on them...because you've obviously squished the air out from between the down. Hence my need for a down jacket under my sleeping bag. I'd love to tweak this sleep system to improve it. On previous winter camp trips I used two sleeping mats - one self-inflating style and one closed-cell foam. Two mats beats one, for sure. The Zlite Sol is bulky, but it's really light - a win for pulks. I'd probably have to add my Therm-a-rest NeoAir next time.

• OR Alpine bivy
• This bivy bag is robust and was roomy enough for me and my giant sleeping bag, my clothes, and shoes. But the single folding pole was a pain in the neck. You don't have to use the pole, but it goes over your face area and keeps the bag from being closed in on you. A rather nice concept. The pole was hard to work into the bag when the bag was warm (the material is very rigid), so when the bag was frozen (more rigid), it was really hard. The cord inside the pole stretched out after the first day, making it very frustrating to get the pole in and out (sections would come apart within the fabric tube). A bit disappointed with the pole thing, but it's likely what I'd take again.
• Rented Northern Sled Works Siglin 5 foot pulk and 250 litre Snowsled pulk bag
• I was happy with my pulk and the pulk bag. Both are slightly unnerving items to rent (well, what isn't unnerving to rent when you're in such an extreme environment where gear is critical?). If a pulk is dragged over gravel or rock, it gets gouges in it and that means it'll be harder to pull. I was meticulous about taking care of my pulk during the event and carried it (loaded, yes) across any scratchy surfaces. They were few - roads in Whitehorse, entrances to checkpoint rec centres. Similarly, the pulk bags are waterproof and have a PVC/polyester surface on the bottom. That's especially good because snow gets into the sled and melts there when you take your pulk indoors at rec centre checkpoints. The water melts all over the floor of the hall (caution walking around in your wool race socks in the rec halls!), but the contents of your pulk stays dry... as long as the bag has not been dragged across any rough surface. It is prone to getting holes like a tarp would if you weighted it and dragged it across your lawn. I bonded so much with my pulk bag by the end I wished it was mine.

  

  I added love notes for myself on my pulk straps ;)

• Silva Trail Speed 400 lumen headlamp (battery pack runs on a long cord so it can be warmer on your chest)
• Long cords are so annoying. The headlamp has a simple one-button system, but I found it hard to tell if it was on max, min, or wide, presumably because of the reflecting action of the snow (and mounting fatigue over days). Given the battery life of only 2 hours on max, and that the device is a battery pig (4 x AA), one doesn't want to accidentally have the thing on high beam. Silva says the batteries should last 7 hours on low, which shouldn't account for use in very cold temps. From memory, I'd guess I was actually getting a bit more than 7 hours per set of batteries - but I was using lithiums. On the last night, I actually pulled out my backup Led Lenser SEO7 (see below) and was so happy with its simplicity. It ran 3 hours on low - with its stock rechargeable battery in it - and had not run out of juice by the time I finished the race at 9:30pm. I doubt I'd use the Silva again....unless I could be convinced in a -40C year that something with a head-mounted battery pack was going to freeze up and not work.
• Backup lamps: LED Lenser SEO7 and Petzl e+Lite
• I used my SEO7 on the last evening, as above. Temperature was -25C to -30C, I think, and it ran fine. Never used the Petzl, as it only puts out 26 lumen. It wouldn't be functional to race with, but it's so small it works as a backup for the backup. The Petzl was originally going to be my sole backup, but I decided that was a poor choice. If the Silva broke or got lost, my race would be over.
• MSR Whisperlite International stove, plus pot and spoon
• I never used my stove during the race, as I planned not to. I'd be tempted to consider the simple alcohol stove systems - even the "tuna-can-with-holes" system, given that my stove is really just an emergency device for making snow/ice into water. I don't need precision heating for simmering or anything. I got myself a long-handled Titanium spoon, which was handy for eating expedition meals from bags. I had some duct tape around the handle with my name on it, which also helped insulate a bit from the cold of holding onto a metal spoon in -30C!

  

  Perhaps the simpler way to melt snow, though I've never tried it

• Evernew Ultralight Titanium double wall mug with lid
• Loved this little cup. I had many "mental health cuppas" with it. Good little insulation on the handles to help keep the cold conduction down when sipping.
• Leki Cressida poles (my old buddies, Nearer and Further, from Bibb FKT days)
• Trustworthy friends. Still ticking. These things are gold. Cork handles, which I'm sure is a bonus in those temps.
• Primus Trailbreak vacuum bottle - 1 litre x 2
• Wicked good. Heavy and crazy expensive but so worth it. Boiling water stayed hot 24 hours, easily.
• Nalgene 1 litre bottle plus insulating bag
• I started the race with a 3ltr Camelbak (see below) on me, plus 3 litres on the pulk. My plan was not to have to take on water between checkpoints, which I reckoned shouldn't be more than 18 hours (but could be 24 hours if it was a tough day). Generally, I was consuming about 3ltrs/day. If I were to use dehydrated expedition meals (I only did the last day), I'd need another 1ltr, perhaps. The Nalgene and insulating bag worked well - I'd always use that water before the vacuum flasks - but I ended up leaving it in a drop bag later because 6ltrs was just way more than I needed.

  

  The blue Osprey pack with extra stash pockets-no need to clasp waist belt

• Camelbak insulated 3 litre bladder (in a dry bag, held in an Osprey Talon 11 pack)
• I liked this system and it worked well, provided (1) I kept the bladder against my base layer, under my coat and (2) the bite valve was tucked into my sport bra. If the Camelbak-and-Osprey didn't fit under the coat (it wouldn't fit under my Montane Extreme Smock), the tube froze within minutes. I tried blowing air back into the tube after drinking, but after a while, that stopped working, too. The Camelbak was most appreciated on day 1 when the temperatures were warmest. Without the bladder on (day 5), I'd make regular stops every 2-3 hours for larger drinks from the flasks. I also liked the waist belt pockets on the Osprey when I wore it - extra storage that was easily accessible!
• SPOT tracker
• I used my own SPOT rather than a rental. It shut the tracker off a few times, which I've never had happen before. The device would still be on, but it wouldn't be in "track" mode anymore. My SPOT lived on top of the pulk so it could beam directly up to the satellites with the best view. It's good to read your fine print and know that SPOT/GEOS doesn't cover you during certain kinds of races and such. It shouldn't be your only form of "insurance" going into an event like this.
• Timex Expedition Shock watch plus a loud digital kitchen timer (for waking when really, really tired)
• The watch was huge on my wrist, but it just made me feel more hardcore. The buttons were easy to deal with, the time readout was big, and the back-light was great. I was afraid of over-sleeping, shutting off the alarm and falling back to sleep. So I got a Taylor kitchen timer with a LOUD alarm! I'd set both in the bivy.
• Garmin eTrex with waypoints loaded
• I fired up my eTrex about five times to confirm I was still headed towards a checkpoint. It lived in my jacket, so was kept slightly warmer than if it was on my pulk. It fired up well each time I used it. The tricky thing about using a GPS in this way is that it only tells you distance as the crow flies. The reality was often much, much further, as the trail weaved through forests and jumble ice.
• Kahtoola Microspikes
• I happily wore my microspikes for the first 8 hours, at least - as long as I was on the big rivers at the start, as there was a lot of ice (rather than snow) and side sloping terrain. After that, I never used them and ended up putting them into a drop bag.
• Julbo category 4 sunglasses. Ski goggles in case of extreme weather
• The sun barely gets above the horizon in February that far north. I rarely wore the sunglasses, but did find them really useful when needed. If I happened to be on a big lake crossing early afternoon, when the sun was at its peak, the glare could be pretty harsh. Ski goggles were not needed - no snow/wind storms. 

The Julbo sunnies and Featherlite Cap on my post-race mushing day

• Head: Montane Featherlite Mountain Cap, Montane Balaclava, ColdAvenger with neck gaiter
• You'd be hard pressed to find a photo of me in the race without my Featherlite Mountain Cap on. I loved it - right down to the little string under the chin. I could cinch it up tight at colder/windier times and could loosen it off to increase venting around the ears when it was warmer. I could also pull it off and let it hang around my neck by the string during a heat-inducing hill climb. The balaclava was never worn, but I was glad to have such a lightweight option available if a storm had set in. The ColdAvenger mask requires compromises/special considerations for its use. The neck gaiter part of it was comfy and warm on neck and cheeks. A win. The nose piece didn't sit really nicely on me, but I could let that go for the benefits of having warmed air hitting my respiratory tract. I don't have asthma, but I still found myself (as did many others) developing a lot of thick mucous, due to breathing in cold air. But the negative side of the mask is that water droplets leave the mask and drop down onto whatever clothing is below. If it's a waterproof shell and the temperatures are extremely cold, you're fine. The droplets will freeze on the jacket. If it's a bit warmer and/or you have a down jacket open exposing your chest base layer (as I did the second time I used it), the water drops onto the base layer, soaks in (due to body heat warming the base layer) and you end up with a very wet base layer/chest. That's a very bad thing. I do like the ColdAvenger, but it should come with a plastic bib ;)

  

  A drop of water about to fall from the mask

• Hands: Mountain Equipment Redline Mitts (for extreme cold), Montane Extreme Mitts, Montane Resolute Mitts, Montane Prism gloves, Montane Primino 140 liner gloves
• Thank goodness the Redline Mitts just got dragged for 300 miles. I'm okay with that. I never thought of myself as having warm hands - in fact, I used to have Raynaud's up until my 30s - but I found I could wear the Primino liner gloves without any overglove some days (during the day). I was using poles all the time, so that presumably helped keep my hands warmer (i.e., arms were active, not passive). At night and at other colder times, I wore the liner gloves under the Extreme Mitts. In fact, I just wore the fleece liners of the Extreme Mitts, as they were warm enough and they are crab-claw fashion. On a few occasions, after stopping, I'd have to scrunch my fingers into a tight fist in the crab mitt to get them warm again. I wore out the Primino liner gloves after the first two days (little holes developed in the fingertips, which was fair enough). So I started using the Prism gloves as my daily wear. They were awesome. If it was very cold, I put the Extreme Mitt over the Prism. The Resolutes never got used, either.

• Leg layers: Montane Primino 140g Boy Shorts, Montane Primino Long Johns, Montane Power Stretch Pro pants, Montane Terra Thermo Guide pants
• I was concerned the seam on the back of the boy shorts might chafe my back, but it was okay. I wore boy shorts with the long johns and the Power Stretch Pro pants on top. It was warm to around -20C when moving. The first time I got cold enough to put the Terra Thermo Guide pants over top of the other two layers was around the third day, from memory. From that point on, the weather stayed cold enough to leave them on. I had a fresh pair of boy shorts at each of the three drop bags. The Power Stretch pants have a nylon face to increase durability, but they still aren't meant to have something rubbing on them 24/7. I had a small pouch on the front of my waist harness and that rubbed the upper thigh with each step. I didn't even notice the rubbing, but after a few days, I had a small hole there. A shame, as the pants are wickedly warm and comfortable for active pursuits. The Thermo Guide pants were also really comfy, and the lower leg zip and ankle snaps were brilliant, but they were extremely awkward for cold-weather use. Which is presumably what they were designed for. The reason was the belt. The pants come with a belt. Every time I had a toilet stop, I had to fight with the belt. It would invariably "retract" itself past the front belt loop, so I'd have to try to re-thread it (meaning gloves off, potentially). The clasp was very hard to work in cold and with gloves. Maybe a bloke with a belly could throw the belt away, but I needed that belt to keep the things on! Not sure what I'd do next time...try to find a simpler belt system or choose an entirely different layering system, I guess.

• Chest layers: Champion seamless sports bra, MEC Merino T2 Zip (180g), Montane Extreme Smock, Montane Black Ice 2.0 jacket



Beloved Black Ice jacket, accumulating moisture through the night

• My Montane Primino 220g zip top base layer got lost in the post, so I picked up a Mountain Equipment Coop Merino T2 Zip that was slightly lighter. The zip is non-negotiable, I reckon, for venting. And for tucking a hydration bladder bite valve into. The Extreme Smock was a great disappointment. It was lust at first sight, but we got into a lot of bitter fights every time we tried to go out together. The smock has a horizontal front pocket/pouch, which seemed a great idea - gear won't fall out of that unless I do a handstand. The fleece lined side/hand pockets went right through - it was one giant pocket. The result of having that pocket on the front as well as the pouch one meant a tendency to put waaaay too much stuff in the pockets and feel like a pregnant penguin. If you can avoid the desire to actually fill those pockets, it would feel a whole lot better on. The side sleeve pocket was a great stash place for emerg firestarter supplies. The hood and chin guard were well designed, soft, and warm. There are side vents ... in theory. Half zips from the waist up on either side. However, in reality, they are not functional when wearing a harness/waist strap - it really precludes the ability to get air through the side when there's a harness there. Finally, the smock was just ridiculously warm. So warm that the snowmobile drivers in the event were wearing them. Keep in mind that they aren't exercising and are creating quite a wind chill as they ride speedily along the trail. I think in the -50C year last year, the racers loved the smock. The other deal-breaker for me with the smock was that it was too tight to fit my pack and hydration bladder under. I still love the smock, but I'll be looking for better ways to use it. The Montane Black Ice 2.0 jacket was my favourite jacket. It was an all-rounder. Well-placed and numerous pockets, a great adjustable hood and chin guard. The only down-side was literally that - the down. It tended to get moisture-laden after 24 hours of use. A few hours at a checkpoint near a hot stove would do the trick...but on the last day I didn't have that option and had to revert back to my smock. Which I rejected within minutes and ended up draping my Deep Cold Down jacket over me instead (see below for more on that jacket).

  

  A glance at other pulks and shoes at the start (100 & 300 mile racers)

• Feet: Injinji Performance Liner Crew socks, Icebreaker Mountaineer socks (alternate socks: Woolpower 400g & 600g)
• Don't confuse the liner socks with the regular ones - these are really, really thin. I normally use Injinji's for daily running and races, as they reduce chances of blisters for me. So I had the liner plus an Icebreaker Mountaineer over top. I've used Icebreakers for my wetter events with great success. I changed the liner and oversock at each of the three drop bag points. The Woolpower socks seemed to work as well as the Icebreakers. I can't recall now whether I actually used both the 400g and 600g - I know I kept one pair spare on my pulk. (Things were a bit hazy out there!) I wouldn't change a thing about these sock combo's. I did sometimes use chemical toe warmers, particularly because I was concerned I might not feel the beginning of frostbite, given my neuropathy in the toes. The toes were never cold. There were cases of frostbite and immersion foot/trench foot out there this year, but I wasn't one of them.

• Shoes: Inov-8 Roclite 275 GTX (one size big, extra insoles to help them fit until feet swell). Backup shoes in drop bag at 100 mile point: Hoka Tor GTX.
• I wanted to love the Inov-8 so much. Most of my running shoes are Inov-8 - they work for me. The extra insole added some cushion and a surprising amount of cold protection. I'd do that again. Unfortunately, there was an issue. Snow would pile up on top of the toe box and melt into the shoe because of heat coming off my foot. It couldn't get all the way down to the sock because of the GTX membrane. So it would sit there until it froze again as a little ice dam between the GTX layer and the top layer of fabric. If the shoe had a solid upper, that would be prevented. But it's fabric. So the ice dam formed and there it sat, pressing down on my toes. I was quite concerned for increased risk of frostbite - my toes were constricted by the ice putting pressure on them. I heard later of a couple other guys having the same problem with this shoe. Thus, at the 100 mile checkpoint, I switched to the Hoka's. I've never been a fan of Hoka brand and I have tried a few models. But these had the most potential for me. They were, however, even bigger and they were high tops (ankle high). Given that my feet weren't really swollen enough to fit them, I knew I was headed for blisters due to excess movement. Terrible blisters, which I had to stop to treat several times over the next 200 miles. The high tops also caused grief to one Achilles, which I fortunately noticed during a blister stop, so I could re-lace the shoe to relieve pressure. Had the Hoka's been a better size, maybe I'd have a better review. And maybe they would have made it back from Pelly Crossing. But I hope there's a First Nations person out there right now enjoying the northern lights and getting some great use out of them.

• Overboots: NEOS Adventurer (for crossing water/slush/overflow)
• The overflow sections I crossed were frozen or only a wee bit slushy. Time of day can make a difference. So the NEOS never went on. But I'd have them again, for sure. And that style, as I wouldn't want a lower height one.

  

  Rocking the cap, Black Ice 2.0, Prism pants, and Roclites post race

• Extreme weather outer and for stops: Montane Prism pants and Montane Deep Cold Down jacket
• The Prism pants were uber lightweight, so worth carrying, despite my not needing to use them. When I stopped to bivy, I was into the sleeping bag within minutes and stayed warm getting things organised before I climbed in. I didn't sit around making tea or anything sedentary or I surely would have needed them. The Deep Cold Down jacket made appearances as mentioned above. It became my extra layer for my sleeping set up and was also my jacket on the last night, when the Smock was grieving me. It's wickedly warm, that's for sure. I couldn't put it on and zip it at -30C without getting too hot moving. Very well thought out details, just like the Black Ice 2.0.

• Wind weather outer: Montane Astro Ascent eVent trousers and Montane Direct Ascent eVent jacket
• These were never pulled out of their stuff sack. I don't think I'd take them again, as I can't really see them being useful. There's always a down jacket option for wind. And the eVent gear gets really brittle feeling in extreme cold - not a nice feeling at all. (The Alpine bivy also gets that same rigid feeling.)

• Misc included: compass, folding saw, sunscreen, scissors, teatree foot powder, SportShield towelettes, space blanket, antiseptic wipes, multi-tool, cable ties, duct tape, whistle, windproof lighter, waterproof matches (several, stored in multiple locations), fire starter, Sea to Summit dry bags and stuff sacks. Food for 48 hours at a time (approx 9,000-10,000 calories, which is supplemented by 2 aid station meals in that timeframe).
• Mandatory gear included the compass and folding saw. I used neither, but also wouldn't scrimp on either, as they are emergency items and you want something that works. 
• I got the Mawaii winter sport sunscreen and lip balm recommended by the RD and it was brilliant. An absolute ordeal to get shipped to Australia (via someone in England), but worth it. I should have applied it on day 1, though! Oops. The chapped lips I got were awful.
• Foot powder was a new one for me - the idea was to avoid moisture build-up (sweat) in the socks. I used too much. Don't use too much. It cakes and hardens and makes little ridges between toes that I think helped blisters form. There's a reason why they say moderation in all things!
• 2Toms SportShield towelettes (body lube) were great, as they didn't freeze. I tended to use one at least every drop bag stop - I'd apply it to my sternum, shoulders, hips (for the harness), and feet/toes when I re-did my socks. Last of all, I'd run the towel over the nether regions. A must-have.

About the best a space blanket can do. Mild AUS temps and a jacket over.

• Space blanket was mandatory - it's probably pretty useless in that kind of cold, to be honest. But it takes up little space and any help with heat would be good if in an emergency situation. But hopefully you're carrying a change of dry thermals in a dry bag on the pulk, which would be a much wiser choice than relying on a piece of aluminium foil to save your life.

• A whistle was also mandatory and I have yet to have a whistle (even those that promise the loudest blast) work when I've wanted to attract someone's attention out running or racing. But maybe one day there will be a situation where it comes into its own.
• Antiseptic wipes - I had little individual povidone-iodine swabs, which work well because most options will freeze. I used a number of them over the last 200 miles with my blister issues. Another must-have. 
• For firestarter, I had dryer lint as well as cotton buds soaked in candle wax. These were stored in several locations, along with matches.
• I brought a waterproof notebook and pen so I could write reminders for myself and not have to rely on a shattered brain. It really took the pressure off to have it.

Bibbulmun 2011. Give me a whole bin of food and I can reject it all.

• Food. What can I say? I get so food-weary in events like this. I'll be hungry, but nothing sounds appealing. I just have to force it down. Sugary foods were evil and gave me canker sores within 2 days. That made eating even less desirable. My favourite items were (1) oatmeal, (2) Fruit-to-Go (for the first 3 days, then I grew weary of them, as I'd eaten so many), (3) Rolos (a suggestion of Mark Hines and nothing I have eaten since I was a kid - they went down far better than other chocolate items I had), (4) gluten-free pretzel balls (tiny little balls, not actually pretzel shaped), (5) dried mango slices, and (6) Primal Strips vegan (soy) jerky.