Oooh yes, a good race to report on it is too, also as well
The Point to Pinnacle is an utter bastard of a race if you don't like hills, and a real dream for hill lovers - although it can of course be a nightmare if you don't get it right. And the weather is always a problem.
It's 21.4km from sea level start to the pinnacle of Mt. Wellington at 1,270m (4,200 feet in the old money), and it's all uphill apart from the first kilometre which is flat. As far as I can make out, there's been an annual foot race up the mountain as far back as the 19th century, as the mountain dominates the Hobart skyline and so of course, you just want to run up the bloody thing. Even Charles Darwin couldn't resist the urge when he visited in 1836, calling his day's climb "testing". It certainly would have been - dense snow gum forest on the lower slopes and massive boulder fields and dolerite columns higher up, and of course back then, no roads or tracks.
These days there's a narrow road all the way to the summit, and it's this that we follow. They limit the field to 1200, mostly I think because of the logistical problem of getting everyone back from the summit to the start line again (for which they use a fleet of buses, provided by the main sponsor). They also have a strict time limit - 3h20m for runners and 4h20m for walkers, with the runners starting an hour later than the walk section, which accounts for about two thirds of the field. And as I discovered today, many of those walkers are in fact runners, including some very good ones, who just find it too insane to try and run the wretched thing. And the runners certainly suffered - there were some very distressed looking people up there today, and a rather alarming number of ambulances, first aid officers and emergency services personnel. So my race-walking effort felt much more vindicated.
Anyway, my race went really very well. My race plan was simple - get to the 10km mark in good shape in order to cope with the brutally steep last "half". The first 10km is relatively gentle, averaging about a 4% gradient, but the last 11.4km averages around 8%, with a couple of long and frightening 10% pitches which make you feel like you have car batteries strapped to your legs.
Kick off was at 7am, but my arrival was a little ominous - noticing that there was limited parking anywhere near the start, I ducked down a side street, found a spot and thereby found myself parked
outside a cemetary. Hoping this wasn't anything more than fate having a joke with me, I wandered down to the start in good time for the off. More by accident than design I ended up starting right at the back of the field (I was too busy chatting to a non-competitor to notice everyone making their way to the start line). The start line was very narrow, so that by the time I got 200m into the race I swear the leaders were 500m
further on.
It was a pretty cold and grey old start to the day and I wasn't properly warmed up, so it was tough going for the first couple of kms. But then I started to find some rhythm and began to think about the difficult question of pacing. I really had little idea of how fast I was travelling, and as there were no kilometre markers on this part of the course (for some reason the organisers only provide countdown markers starting at 10km from race end) I was fairly clueless as to what speed I was making.
I decided the only thing to do was use some pace setters, so I found likely candidates (cute ones) travelling just slightly faster than I thought was comfortable and settled in behind. And it seemed to work. As I felt better I slowly reeled them in and then looked for another one.
And I reached the half way point feeling great! That was where the steep stuff really started, and all my training began to pay off, as I started passing more and more people who struggled with the inclines. I just set a steady pace and kept at it. It certainly wasn't easy, but I felt strong and just kept going.
After 14km it got really tough. The next 4km are the steepest, and with increasing altitude it gets much colder with wind and rain also settling in to make it just that much more fun.
As it turns out, we were lucky. Because the weather can be extreme, they sometimes call off the pinnacle attempt and turn it into an out and back event, only going part way up the mountain. As it turned out, the weather was iffy at the start, but they let it go. By the time the organisers realised they had made a mistake, the leaders were already passed what would have been the "turn around" point and so up we went. I say lucky, but in fact there are good reasons for calling it off, as we would find out.
At 18kms I was doing it tough but maintaining my pace, and as the worst section was behind me, feeling really good and looking at a "wishful thinking" time. I had swept up three pace setters and was now eyeing off my fourth - a very tall guy wearing black shorts (there being no appropriate cute ones at this stage) but he was ever so slowly puling away from me. I thought i could still pull him back on the last stretch but then at 19kms I quite unexpectedly hit the wall. It was all going so well, and then
bang, the wheels fell off. I worked hard through that 20th km, but then one of my earlier pace setters had her revenge and whizzed past me and I ran out of determination. It was bitterly cold and wet by now and I just wanted to finish the sod. The last km was awful, very ugly indeed. All three pace setters that I had used in such unsolicited fashion to get me up the mountain now reeled
me in, sneering malicious retribution (or so it seemed) as they zoomed past.
Still, there was a really pleasant surprise in store, for just as I was thinking "hmm, only a couple of hundred metres to go now", quite suddenly, there I was at the finishing line!
Somewhat dazed, I was directed through the finishing chute, picked up my medal, collected my gear and was standing there in drizzle and sleet (and what I learned later was a wind chill factor of about -10 C) when an official pointed me to a bus and told me to get on quick. Good advice, as it turns out, especially as I was still in a saturated tee shirt and running shorts.
I glugged a pint of Gatorade in 2 or 3 milliseconds and then checked my watch, which I had somehow remembered to stop as I crossed the line. I had told myself I'd be happy with anything under 3h30m, and really pleased if I could break 3h15. My actual time was 3h09:33*, so I was completely chuffed!
That it was a strenuous race was confirmed by the fact that on the way back down the mountain, two people on the bus I was on were physically sick, with the result that we had to keep the windows open, making it very, very cold return journey. But I had my medal and a good time, so I was happy.
So it all basically went really, really well. According to my HRM, I burned 2,666 calories during the race, so I probably hit the wall around the 2,400 calorie mark. So perhaps a gel or two might have helped, though I suspect the risk of a stomach upset from said gel might negate its benefit. Will have to think about this some more.
So, what now? Hmmm.... well for the moment, I'm going to watch some cricket and drink some of that really nice beer I've been saving. Ciao for now.
*
Based on last year's results, that should put me somewhere inside the top quarter of the field - not bad for a first timer (and an old fella at that) , so all the training has paid off, woo hoo!
November - Crunch Month
