GPT100 – My first 100 mile race through the Grampians

A few weeks ago, I completed my first 100 mile race in the Grampians, tackling the GPT100 along the Grampians Peaks Trail from north to south. Throughout the year, I dedicated myself to training for this event and successfully assembled an incredible support team of friends and family to assist me. The race proved to be more challenging and demanding than I had initially anticipated. Although I didn’t meet any of my time goals on the day, I persevered and still believe I accomplished what I set out to do. My experience was a rollercoaster of highs and lows, and I navigated the challenges all the way to the finish line. In this account, I will share my journey from preparation to recovery.

Course Map

Race Planning

The Team

I’ve ran many ultras without support crew but I decided that going into my first 100 miler it would be nice to have friendly faces at the aid stations. So I approached Dad to see if he was keen and available to come over to support. He was quick to confirm, then Mum not wanting to miss out also checked the work roster and was able to make it work. This locked in my core support crew, two people who are extremely experienced at supporting me.

After Justin and I ran all of the sections in July I started to think that I would like to have a pacer to get me through the night. The section climbing up to Mt William was my greatest concern. My defacto brother in law Dan was quick to jump at the chance to pace me and also wanted to run the 50k race. My girlfriend Lauren had entered the 50k race and it was going to be her first ultra. Our Tassie contingent was growing.

My housemate Ziggy was soon to return from 6 months in Canada and was interested in the GPT100 event but wasn’t sure about racing. I suggested that he could come and pace a section. This proposition captured his interest and within days flights were booked. I went from having no pacers to two in the space of a few weeks. With such a big support crew behind me there was no choice but to get it done!

The Weeks Leading Up

As the race week approached my anxiety intensified. As a coping mechanism I over prepared. I made a presentation for my support crew to brief them on all of my goals and requirements for the race. I arranged a time for a Zoom call with my parents to run through the presentation. They asked me to develop a spreadsheet with guidance on my requirements at each aid station and my expected arrival times.

This instigated an additional flurry of race planning. I spent a lot of time trying to work out realistic times for each leg based on my previous runs in the area. I gave them expected arrival time windows for each aid station and some notes around things I may require at each location. Also added in time to drive from Halls Gap to each aid station. I felt like I was going over the top with it but in the end they said it actually came in handy.

To fill in my days while tapering I adopted a heat acclimation protocol at a nearby sauna. This heat exposure was a good outlet to calm the nerves. I was also finishing each session with cold plunge. After each session I was in a state of calm euphoria. This has fostered an addiction to sauna and cold plunges that has sparked a home sauna build project that is in the design stage at the moment.

For those interested in how over-prepared I was, here is links to the presentation and the race planner spreadsheet.

• GPT100 Support Crew Guide
• GPT100_23 Race Planner

Race Goals

I was hesitant to set any outcome goals for this event. Since it was the inaugural event there weren’t any past results to determine what was a good time over the course. Having run the course over stages earlier in the year I had an idea of how long each section could take. So I decided to set myself some outcome goals but I was not going to kill myself to achieve them. My goal from the beginning was always to avoid going into the second night and this would later become my main goal.

As always I set out some process goals and placed a higher importance on them. I am of the belief that the process goals are more important and the outcome goals will follow.

Race Week

In the week leading up to the event I feel like I am on the verge of getting sick. It seems as though my body is fighting something off. I wake each day with a headache and a mild sore throat. I am too frightened to take a Covid test preferring to not know. I still don’t know if it was entirely psychosomatic or real. My nerves reach their crescendo on the Monday afternoon of race week. I think the combination of having to pack bags and do all final preparation heightened the pre-race jitters. I struggle to get a good night sleep and I am annoyed about it. I was planning on sleep banking as much as possible.

We travel to Victoria on Wednesday and have a big transit day. These days feel tiring even though not much is actually done. Our first night in Halls Gap is spent making pizza with the whole crew which includes Justin and his family, Lauren, her sister Jemma and partner Dan, their parents and my parents. Lauren and Dan are racing the 50k race so they spend the evening preparing and mentally preparing for the forecast heat.

Lauren and Dan are off and racing on the Thursday morning. I drive out to see Lauren at Roses Gap and take her parents along to support. Then I spend the day doing final preparations and showing Mum and Dad all of the gear and nutrition I plan on using. Ziggy and I head out on a shake out run to get our gear checked then meet Lauren as she finishes her 50k. As the evening drew on I ate pasta and experience a state of calm. All of my earlier preparations mean I had little left to worry about. I go to bed and have a surprisingly great night of sleep, a rarity before a big race day.

Race Day

Calm Before the Storm

The race starts at midday so I have a whole morning to chill out and repack my bag a few times. It is one of the most relaxed pre-race mornings I’ve ever had. Largely due the late start time. I take time eating breakfast and am able to eat early enough to have time to let the stomach settle before running.

The rain is setting in and intensifying but the temperature is still quite warm and muggy. Thankfully rain doesn’t phase me too much. On the drive out to Mt Zero the rain intensifies to torrential levels and there is lightning off in the distance. When we arrive at the startline we hear that there had been lightning strikes pretty much at the startline an hour earlier. Thankfully the storm cell had passes and the race is still going to start as planned.

At the start line while waiting with Justin and I meet Grant Houniet, another of the Tassie contingent in the race. Daniel Kwong also appears, the fourth and final member of the Tasmanian team. We chatted and offered each other condolences for our imminent self destruction.

We are ushered up to the start line ready for the welcome to country and pre-race rituals. I experience a range of emotions all at once. Mostly extreme gratitude to have made it to the start line feeling as prepared as I possibly could be. Making it to the startline is a feat in itself and it feels surreal to have reached a point that is the culmination of nearly a year of preparation and visualisation. I stand with tears welling up savouring the moment.

Stage 1 – Mt Zero to Halls Gap

Justin and I start in the middle of the pack and we walk up through the starting arch with the hoards of others. We avoid the front of the pack excitement, no need to sprint up flat rock. I feel instant relief upon starting. After so many nerves and anxious anticipation the running is the easy bit that I have been preparing all year for. The spectators cheer us on and the heavens open again.

Starting on single track means we move in a long snake of trail runners for the first few kilometres. Somehow Justin, Grant and I all end up together all the way through to the first aid station at Roses Gap. We chat while we run. This first leg flies by and Justin and I run into Roses Gap together. His support crew are next level and have a tarp setup. I aim for a quick transition while I am still feeling good but Justin still beats me out of the aid station. I think the rapidity of the transition intimidates my parents. I leave shortly after Justin but am not able to catch him.

I am now on my own and I am enjoying the ability to move at my own pace. This allows me to implement my ‘no pressure’ pacing strategy. I encounter the first hikers of the day and catch another runner. We chat for a while and I soon realise he is a relay runner. I overtake him and am back out on my own. I am absolutely loving it at this stage, there’s nothing I love more than being out on the trails with an enormous day of running ahead.

I focus on hitting my nutrition goals and staying hydrated. But I start to feel a headache brewing. At the Mt Difficult I do a super quick pit stop, just fluids and some coke and I am out in less than a minute. Focusing on dealing with the headache I drink coke and decide to try a caffeine gel. I reduce the intensity slightly and this is enough to get me feeling good again. When I see the honeycomb rock I feel a sense of relief knowing it’s a nice easy run down into Halls Gap.

As the descent begins I see Justin out ahead. This distraction causes me to lose my footing and slide down a rock and have a fall. I am frustrated at failing one of my main process goals of ‘no falls’ but it serves as a good reminder to pay attention to my footing. With my newfound focus and still feeling good I manage to chase Justin down. We run together down into Halls Gap and we see Grant already on his way out. We find our friends and crew all waiting to greet us. Ziggy and Dan run in with us, Dad is waiting and we all run in together.

Mum leads me into the Hall where her and Dad have all of the gear laid out ready to go. It turns out they have been practicing and refining their support procedures. Joe Dorph (the race director) is there to say hello and check in. I am not as rushed anymore, I am now at the point where I am happy to spend a few minutes at aid stations getting everything I need. Justin beats me out the door again. I am back out shortly after feeling dangerously good!

Stage 2 – Halls Gap to Mt William

On my own again I climb up out of town and it’s not long till I see both Justin and Grant ahead of me. They are both moving slowly and when I catch up I find Grant leaning over his poles at a standstill. I ask if he’s ok and he says he’s getting cramps, I respond with an ‘oh no, not a good time to be cramping’. I overtake them both and am feeling wonderful. I look back fondly on this section of the race. I descent down to Rosea carpark aid station and find my parents in good spirits. I think they are happy to see me moving so well and with such high morale.

It is only a quick stop and I am back out climbing up Mt Rosea. This leg is the highlight of my entire race. The clouds that have been shrouding the views all day lift and as I reach I high point I see glorious sunset views over the mountain range. I film an update and send it to the support crew group chat. I am stoked! There is a glorious sunset in front of me, an electrical storm out on the horizon to my right and the nearly full moon behind me.

As the sun sets I get my headtorch out and navigate into what will become a long and arduous night. Near the Mt Rosea summit the cloud closes in again and visibility becomes limited. The headtorch seems to work best on the low setting, similar to a car headlight in fog. The problem is that the trail is not clear and the course markings are just far enough apart to make route finding difficult. The course is exceptionally well marked but when the visibility is limited to about 15m it causes me to take many wrong turns and have to back track.

I am happy when I start to encounter runnable trails because I know that there is an easy run down to Burrough Huts. This easy run is somewhat foiled by me losing a contact lens and having to run with one eye. I stopped to see if I had a spare in my pack but realised I had left them all with my support crew, a lesson learned for future races. As I approach Burrough Huts the electrical storm has moved directly in front of me. I count the seconds between the lightning and the thunder claps. Recalling that each second accounts for a kilometre of distance, or so I was told when I was a child.

The time between lightning and thunder gets down to 7 seconds which makes me wonder what will happen to the race. The race directors had actually implemented a pause on the race and we were notified by text message. I had my phone on aeroplane mode so I didn’t know it had happened and kept running into Burrough Huts. Dan met me a few 100 metres before the aid station and ran in with me. I saw Cecilia, a friendly face from the training camp sitting under the gazebo. The aid station volunteer tells me I have to stay and wait till the storm passes.

I had a big support crew at this checkpoint. Ziggy was waiting and ready to pace me, Lauren and Dan were there for moral support along with Mum and Dad as main support crew. We sorted out my contact lense situation and I took my time anticipating being held for a while due to the storm but after about 5 minutes I am informed that I am allowed to leave. So we expedite my aid station tasks and Ziggy and I head out into the darkness.

After my course finding woes on Mt Rosea I am extremely grateful to have Ziggy to lead the way through a section I know will be difficult to navigate. I am in high spirits still after a little break and my newfound company. We chat as we climb and Ziggy quickly gets an understanding of the technicality of the terrain. He has a hand held torch that is an asset for course finding. Headtorches in the fog seem to create a cloud of mist at eye level.

As we approach a high point we are surprised to see a course marshal camped high on a ridge. he stops us to give us the ‘pep talk’ about the upcoming section. He warns us that the next 1.6km are extremely technical and scrambly and that we must go forth with caution. We ask what he did when the storm passed over and he said he sheltered under a rock. He was out doing a tough job but seemed to be absolutely loving it. We thank him for his services and continue on with the scramble ahead.

At this stage the scramble is kind of fun and novel. We look back and see other head torches in the distance behind us. We yell out some ‘cooees’ and we recieve many responses. It is a funny place to be at midnight on a Friday night. The following section feels like it goes on forever. I knew to expect this from my recon run of the stage. We plodd on and I am still feeling good. As we approach the aid station I start to think about how good a little rest would be. This makes the final push to the aid station feel like it goes on for an eternity.

I knew we were close so I keep pushing even though I am starting to feel rough. In my head I think that once I get to the aid station everything will be fine again. I have the stop all planned out in my head, a quick shoe swap and a few other tasks.

Mum and Dad are there to greet us as we arrive. As I am swapping shoes the nausea I am feeling intensifies. Mum and Dad are asking what I want for the next stage but the nausea is too much and I cannot bear thinking about any form of nutrition. I want to vomit but they advise me against it. There is a bed at the aid station and Dad suggests I lay down for 10 minutes. In a state of damage control I accept the proposition and lay down on the stretcher and the wonderful aid station volunteer finds some blankets to throw over me.

I lay shivering on the verge of vomiting and contemplate my predicament. I am only a little over halfway and the prospect of continuing is hard to grasp. I made a pledge with Justin that we were not allowed to DNF at Mt William aid station since we both anticipated it being the crux of the race. I also know my parents won’t let me stop just because I feel sick so I lay there focusing on trying to quell my nausea. As the minutes pass by I feel my condition gradually improving. Mum comes over, taps me on my shoulder and informs me I’ve be laying down for 16 minutes. This is enough to rouse me from my death bed.

Back up on a chair I am provided with a hot soup from the aid station volunteer. Each sip of the salty elixir brings new life. As I finish the soup my hunger returns and I devour a bowl of pasta. Now feeling good enough to consider nutrition I load my bag with supplies for the next section and start drinking a redbull to get through the witching hours. I am back in a state of liveliness to consider moving onwards. So Ziggy and I head back out into the night moving at a slower pace while I try to prevent the return of the nausea.

Stage 3 – Mt William to Griffin Fireline

As we climb to the top of Mt William Ziggy recounts the 16 minute period while I was in bed. He stood next to Dad in contemplative silence staring into the gas heater. He was shell shocked by my rapid demise. I was chipper and chatty right up to the the aid station so he was rattled by how quickly things unravelled. Looking back, I think that motion sickness was to blame. The headtorch beam with the fog creates such a limited field of vision that is moving all over the place.

Now that I have been to hell and back and am able to continue, I feel like I have been reborn. I continue with trepidation not wanting the nausea to return but also feel a new level of confidence knowing that resurrection is possible. I feel like the rough patch broke up the night and coming out the other side I am riding a wave of adrenaline that carries me through to sunrise. Not once did I feel any tiredness or weariness through the night time.

As the sun rises on a new day Ziggy and I both feel energy and optimism from the sun. We are both happy to stow the torches and have good visibility again. Descending towards Jimmy Creek the trails are more runnable. We see a person out ahead and as we approach we realise it is Justin. He overtook me while I was laid on a bed at the previous aid station. We find him in a bad way, his legs are giving up on him and he’s struggling along. Ziggy and I wish him luck and press on along the runnable trails to Jimmy Creek.

Mum and Dad are both extremely happy to see that I am back in relatively good condition after the rough night. They both spent the preceding hours worrying about how I would fare. I look in the aid station gazebo to see another familiar faced casualty. Grant is in a chair with a blanket over his shoulders leaning over a rubbish bag on the verge of vomiting. He looks like a ghost and I start to feel sad at the prospect of a fallen Tassie comrade. Ziggy and I brush our teeth and prepare to head out for the next section. Grant wanders over and has a brief chat with us. I tell him how I was able to overcome the rough patch and wish him luck before heading back out with Ziggy.

We chip away at the next section, I am no longer in a racing mentality and just focus on consistent movement. Ziggy is starting to feel the fatigue of a long night and his feet are suffering. He has ended up with more of an adventure than he anticipated. An hour or so after leaving the aid sation we are surprised to be overtaken by Grant who is running and looking incredibly strong. He pulled through and this would be the last I see of him for the day as he forged on far ahead of me.

We run into the Yarram Gap aid station looking and feeling relatively strong. I see An, another familiar face from the training camp is volunteering at the station. We have a little chat as I restock. The next section is relatively easy compared to the previous suffer fest. This next stage is mostly unremarkable, we soldier on and cross Grampains Road and approach Griffin Fireline. I put in a solid run to get to the aid station and enter to find my support crew has grown to include Lauren, Jemma and Dan is waiting to step in as my pacer. Ziggy happily gets to stop for a rest.

I am handed a partially toasted ham and cheese sandwich that looks unapetising but tastes amazing. I restock and Dan and I head out on the final stage of the race. I feel like I have broken the back of it but still have a long way to go. I hobble out onto the trails. The aid station stops are now causing me to sieze up and it takes a while to get the body warmed up again.

Stage 4 – Griffin Fireline to Dunkeld

The change of pacer takes some time getting used to. Ziggy and I had been together for nearly 13 hours and we were comfortable moving along quietly and occasionally chatting. Dan is fresh and energised and on for a chat. I do my best to engage but struggle at times often replying with whatever sound I can muster. Even though I struggle to engage I am still thankful to have someone with me to carry me towards the finish line.

I have started using trekking poles and hiking up the climbs and running when the energy levels allow. These latter stages of such a long effort are a struggle but I am so close to the end that there is little that could stop me finishing. Waves of energy come and go and I ride them when they come and persevere through the lulls.

For the first time in hours another runner approaches from behind and catches up to us with his pacer. He gravitates directly to me to chat. He has a deranged intensity to his stare. He is absolutely frothing and moving well. It looks like he is high on something, probably just high on life and caffeine. We chat for bit then he forges onwards and says ‘don’t worry, I’m just having a moment, you’ll catch me’. I never caught him but the term ‘having a moment’ has stuck with me. It’s such a good term to describe what we are going through, just a series of ‘moments’.

At the Cassidys Gap aid station we experience the phenomenon of Jack and Jill the aid station extraordinaries in action. They bail me up as soon as I enter wanting to help with flasks and nutrition. I am so overwhelmed that I revert to asking if Mum could just do it because she knows what I want. They are further disappointed when I ask if I could have a ham and cheese toastie which they didn’t have at their aid station. It broke their hearts to not be able to get me a sandwich. They persevered with me and got me a soup and offered me ice which I used in my ice bandana.

The day isn’t hot but the ice bandana allows me to push it on the climb up Signal Peak and again up Mt Abrupt. I keep the ice bandana on till shortly after a torrential downpour hit. Dan and I are getting completely soaked as we approach the summit of Mt Abrupt. We stop to get rain jackets on but we are already soaked through. I go from overheating to freezing in minutes. The rain shower paired with a caffeine gel combine to give me an ultimate energy boost.

Dan is loving it, it feels adventurous being on the top of the mountain in a wild weather. We follow the course which directs us to take a detour up to the summit of Mt Abrupt. With the newfound energy I ride the wave all the way down to the final aid station. Up till this point I had been taking the race aid station to aid station. Now with the next stop in Dunkeld I feel like the finish is finally within reach.

I fill flasks and stock my pack then stand on verge of tears feeling a wave of intense emotion. Mum asks if I am ok and after a delay I say ‘yep lets go’ and Dan and I head off on the final leg. The two final hills seem insignificant after what I have just been through. The sun comes out again and we heat up. As we soldier on Dan keeps saying that I should savour the moments, ‘you will look back fondly on these memories’. He was so right, now I am back at home I kind I wish I was back out there.

I push as hard as I can up the final climb and at the top we stop for a selfie to send to the crew. Dan is keeping them updated on our progress so they can get to see me finish. The final descent is tough but I try to push feeling the draw of the finish line. It feels like I am home and hosed even though I still have quite a way to go. I pushed a bit hard on the downhill so when we reach the flat section that leads into Dunkeld I struggle to consistently run. So I resort to hiking with the poles and running when I can.

There are massive kangaroos everywhere. We see large male kangaroos sparring on the hills around us. One large male is on the side of the trail and hops across the trail in front of us. He is enormous and hostile. Dan runs ahead and shoes him off the trail. I have come too far to let a kangaroo ruin my day. Up ahead I see Ziggy sitting on a fence and know I must be close. Around the next corner is Lauren. I feel a final surge of energy and run the rest of the way into town to the finish line with Dan, Ziggy and Lauren by my side.

I bound across the street and up the final steps to the finish arch. I expected to break down crying but instead just felt an overwhelming sense of relief. All of my supporters had made it to the finish line. I stood around in a stupor as everyone congratulated me then dragged myself over to a seat where I plopped and ate noodles. There I sat happy, content and ruined.

Post Race Survival

I believe the body knows when is has complete it’s task. After sitting down at the finish I could hardly stand up or walk without assistance, yet 10 minutes earlier I had been running. The support crew continued to support me long into the evening. This is probably the time I need support the most.

The most difficult feat of my whole day was getting into the shower back at the airbnb. After the adrenaline of the finish had worn off the sleep deprivation caught up on me and I was struggling to stay awake. I couldn’t go to bed without a proper shower. Thankfully Lauren was there to help me and I got to experience empathy for my grandfather and his limited mobility.

As the days passed my body healed and I realised that there were no serious physical ailments that persisted. I was able to run on the Tuesday after the event and my legs felt almost fully recovered by the following weekend. The abilities of the human body continue to amaze me.

In the week after I felt emotionally scattered. I would start crying when thinking about how many people helped me to finish the race. Mum and Dad, Ziggy and Dan, Lauren and all of the people that helped Justin and I see the trails. It makes me feel self conscious knowing how many people made sacrifices to help me achieve my goal. But then I realise that everyone that helped gets to feel some of the fulfillment along with me. My personal goal became a shared goal and that’s one of the many reasons that I love this sport.

Results and Wrap Up

I didn’t achieve any of my time goals, but I did achieve the goal of finishing before the second night. This was the earliest goal I set and probably should have been my only one. I think everyone myself included underestimated the difficulty of the terrain at night. The times I had for the stages were all run during the day in good conditions with relatively fresh legs.

In the end my finish time was 31:22 and I was 8th in my age group and 13th overall. I am so happy that I got it done and had so much fun out there. There was a smile at every aid station and I was genuinely happy for most of those smiles. The experience was exactly what I was hoping for, a true adventure in the mountains with people I love.

I may come back and race it again one day but I don’t feel like I need to. I think I achieved what I set out to do. Of course I could do it quicker but I am not that extrinsically driven. I hope to come back next year and race the 50k and pace Justin if he tackles the 100 miles again. The Grampians now hold a special place in my heart and I will continue to be drawn back.