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Nothing is ever what it seems
Last night, I was playing golf and my par three tee shot left my club, straight as an arrow, towards the hole. As the ball flew towards the green I began to realise it was dropping towards the flag. It clipped the flag, then circled the rim, before finally settling in the hole. I was ecstatic, and quickly sought praise from all those around. The noise and commotion rudely awoke me from my slumber and I was thrust back into reality. I trudged to the lavatory without fanfare or celebration, no longer the hero of my night-time vision.
The weather forecast for Wiseman's Ferry was for a sudden drop in temperature, as an icy winter blast was due to blow in from the north west, removing any last trace of summer. Evading a freezing night in a tent, I decided to drive up in the early morning and, therefore,set my alarm for 3 am. I awoke at 2.30 and within 45 minutes, I was on the road to the Convict 100, Marilyn Manson pounding from the stereo. I passed a stationary police car on the side of the road and, sure enough, blue, flashing lights brought me to an unscheduled stop. Driving at three in the morning with the car stereo cranked up with heavy rock music, surely meant I was drunk and on my way home, without a Plan B. But, to the surprise of the police officer, I was sober and merely driving to a race. Nothing was as it seemed.
It wasn't long before I was able to make a move on a early climb and muscle past World Champion Jason English, who was locking horns with eventual race winner Cory Wallace, from Canada. Minutes later, the warm-up complete, we were all on the start line, ready to begin. This was to be my 5th Convict race and, for the first time I can remember, I was not shivering in a thick early morning fog. The morning was actually quite mild, and the weather doom-mongers had been wrong once again. Nothing is ever what it seems.
The weather forecast for Wiseman's Ferry was for a sudden drop in temperature, as an icy winter blast was due to blow in from the north west, removing any last trace of summer. Evading a freezing night in a tent, I decided to drive up in the early morning and, therefore,set my alarm for 3 am. I awoke at 2.30 and within 45 minutes, I was on the road to the Convict 100, Marilyn Manson pounding from the stereo. I passed a stationary police car on the side of the road and, sure enough, blue, flashing lights brought me to an unscheduled stop. Driving at three in the morning with the car stereo cranked up with heavy rock music, surely meant I was drunk and on my way home, without a Plan B. But, to the surprise of the police officer, I was sober and merely driving to a race. Nothing was as it seemed.
It wasn't long before I was able to make a move on a early climb and muscle past World Champion Jason English, who was locking horns with eventual race winner Cory Wallace, from Canada. Minutes later, the warm-up complete, we were all on the start line, ready to begin. This was to be my 5th Convict race and, for the first time I can remember, I was not shivering in a thick early morning fog. The morning was actually quite mild, and the weather doom-mongers had been wrong once again. Nothing is ever what it seems.
Early morning focus This was the centenary edition of the Convict 100 Marathon Race and the historical convict trails, which nestled in the Hawkesbury Valley, lay ahead. I exchanged pre-race banter with Dave Langley and Michael Schmitt before suddenly panicking that I was about to miss starting in the wave following the elites. Luckily, the three of us made our way through the starting gate, but there were a lot of riders ahead of us, not all of whom looked like they really should have been in this starting wave. Self-seeding rearing it's ugly, ignorant head once again. All three of us scrambled to move quickly through the mass of riders, which succeeded until the pace slowed and it was impossible to pick a way through. The steep technical hill climb arrived 12 km in and, as expected, riders ahead simultaneously unclipped, and it was necessary to run past walking riders. I remounted the bike and rode the remainder of the hill untroubled.
Pete Selkrig trying to hide his injury from wife Nancy Steadily, I began to pick my way through the field of riders ahead. The course was surprisingly fast, and certainly not the mud-fest that had been predicted. The Convict 100 is probably one of the roughest courses of all the marathons I have completed in Australia and the rock gardens seem to go on forever. The convicts who built this road would certainly not have been signed up to build another. Non-mountain bikers would have some difficulty negotiating some of the more technical sections, and the rocky descents are not for the faint-hearted. I heard, after the race, that this was the first time the helicopters had not been utilised to airlift stricken riders to the nearest hospital. That's not to say the race went without incident. Most notably, Pete Selkrig, had a stick wedge in his front wheel at the 40 km mark, catapulting him over the handlebars and tearing the cartilage between his clavicle, sternum and ribs. Incredibly, he valiantly carried on and posted an amazing time, despite ever-increasing pain and discomfort as he smashed into rock steps, as the only feasible way of getting over them.
The middle section of the course is quite spectacular. The rugged and remote trails offer up some breathtaking ridge line views that even the most focused riders would find almost impossible to ignore.
One of the unique and most exciting features of this race is the kayak bridge. Sixty eight kilometres into the race, riders are faced with the decision to either ride (left) or walk (right) across the bridge. I always approach this particular section with much trepidation but I feel the best way to negotiate it is firstly, not to stop and overthink it and secondly, to hit it with some speed and a slightly higher gear. The bridge will sway, but more so at each end, and it is important to focus straight ahead. I have made it across this bridge five times without an ignominious fall into the cold water below. Many other riders are not quite so fortunate.
One of the unique and most exciting features of this race is the kayak bridge. Sixty eight kilometres into the race, riders are faced with the decision to either ride (left) or walk (right) across the bridge. I always approach this particular section with much trepidation but I feel the best way to negotiate it is firstly, not to stop and overthink it and secondly, to hit it with some speed and a slightly higher gear. The bridge will sway, but more so at each end, and it is important to focus straight ahead. I have made it across this bridge five times without an ignominious fall into the cold water below. Many other riders are not quite so fortunate.
 |  Crossing the bridge. Picture (left) not recommended; Ben Edols (right) shows how it should be done. (Maxadventure, 2014) |
Cory Wallace, Convict Champion (Aurora Images, 2014) After crossing the kayak bridge, I caught a number of riders, including Lyndon Kinsela, on the bitumen road and hoped we could all work together to gain some momentum. Unfortunately, this didn't really happen, and on starting the last, long climb, this group slowed, almost in nervous anticipation of what lay ahead and I was left alone. Unseen by me, Dave Langley had spotted me from the switchbacks above and this provided enough motivation for him to kick again, in order to maintain his lead over me. He was to beat me by 95 seconds. My finishing time of 4.37.39 was nearly four minutes slower than last year and placed me 18th in Masters and 35th of 500 riders overall. Other notables who finished ahead of me were Garry James, Pete Selkrig, Jamie Vogele, teammate Andrew Fell, Andrew Wells, and young Michael Schmitt. Cory Wallace won the elite, ahead of Adrian Jackson and Andy Blair, with Shawn Lewis and the unfortunate Jason English, who punctured at a critical time, rounding out the Top 5. Jenny Fay once again convincingly won the female elite category.
For me, I now have the following weekend free of racing, before the Chocolate Foot STM series starts in Taree on Sunday 18th May. My dilemma with this, is to find a TV in the early hours of Sunday morning, in order to watch the FA Cup Final between my beloved Arsenal, and Hull City, as the Gunners attempt to secure our first item of silverware for 9 years. We are massive favourites but, as I've outlined here, nothing is ever what it seems.
For me, I now have the following weekend free of racing, before the Chocolate Foot STM series starts in Taree on Sunday 18th May. My dilemma with this, is to find a TV in the early hours of Sunday morning, in order to watch the FA Cup Final between my beloved Arsenal, and Hull City, as the Gunners attempt to secure our first item of silverware for 9 years. We are massive favourites but, as I've outlined here, nothing is ever what it seems.
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