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Round the Block (or Round the Bend?)

by Jonathan Trope

I have some really good friends at Striders, but sometimes I question their motives when they arrange "special" events which are supposed to enhance the preparedness of those unfortunate, mentally challenged individuals who choose to run Comrades every year.

Last year, it was Chris McLean (why is it that every reference to Chris in the Blister and other Striders publications spell his name "McClean" when we know he's as sweaty as the rest of us) who decided that we needed to run from Manly to Palm Beach and back about a month before Comrades. The four participants in that crazy 60k ball breaker have still not recovered. Chris hasn't beaten anyone in a 10k, 21k or marathon since, David Sill had to go to England to get away from running, Geoff Taylor gave up his job and I am still trying to find out which way Peter Corte went on his bicycle.

This year, Geoff Taylor and Dick Bartlett had a go at arranging an alternative; this time from Hornsby to Mt White and back. There's a lot to be said about this 60k run when you're contemplating Comrades as the big hill to Mt White is at about the same point in the run as the notorious Field's (not Alf's) hill. Then you have to come back up from Brooklyn to Berowra. Anyway, we all agreed (10 of us) to run together. Geoff said he'd put out the drinks along the way and meet us at the start at 6:30. When I arrived at Hornsby, only Grahame Murphy was there; the rest having pushed off half an hour early. Geoff phoned to say he'd be a few minutes late so Grahame and I waited till 6:50 before we gave up on him and started. Geoff of course had done his own thing and ran off at 6:40 or so, hence Grahame and I had no idea where all the drinks were and we used my 200ml bottle to sustain us. We caught up to the mob at the bottom of the hill (Brooklyn) and they then turned back while we chased Geoff and the drink stop map.

On our way back (after catching Geoff) we happened upon the rest of the crew having tea, scones and pies at the Old Pie Shop at the top of the hill. Geoff, Jim Screen, Grahame and I couldn't believe our eyes - these guys still had to run another 15-20k's after gorging themselves on cream-puffs - so we carried on. Suffice it to say that due to extreme dehydration caused by Geoff's missing drink stops, Grahame and I hit the wall (he was a bit ahead of me and it made a larger dent in him I think) and we crawled home after successfully missing the train at the Asquith Station because Grahame was so slow that I turned round to hurry him up, stood in a hole, twisted my ankle and then got cramp in the other leg at which point the train went through. Thank goodness for Jim who came back to look for us and gave us a lift for the last 1½ k.

Then came the most brilliant idea of all - this time from two blokes who aren't even running Comrades this year, Ray Potter and Tony Hatch. Ray said they had a nice, easy, 44k course from Hornsby which they call "Around the Block". I've always liked Ray, mainly because I can beat him over 10k on occasion even though he's got a better marathon PB than me, so I took him at face value and we invited the Comrades runners to join us for a last long run before the big day.

So it was that six of us arrived on time for the start at Hornsby (Geoff defaulted, this time he said he'd overslept). Believe it or not, only three of us were "Comrades" (Jim, Alf and me) the others being "also rans" but not in the usual sense. Ray, Tony and the incredible hulk (Murray Town) made up the numbers.

Ray handed out the map which was totally illegible but it didn't matter as we were running "Around the Block" and off we went. As we departed, Grahame arrived all hot and sweaty having run 1 ½ hrs to the start (I thought his lunatic fringe car had blown up or something) and another one or two k's further, Derek Smith joined the pack.

So then there were eight.

The route was born in hell. First, we ran down the hill to Galston Gorge which is the 8.5k point where Ray had stashed some water, Exceed and Coke. Alf complained all the way down that he'd had dinner with Scott Crawford the previous evening and he'd been forcibly coerced into drinking some plonk that Scott had been saving for a day when a mob came around. Anyway the Sauterne caused his tongue to stick to the roof of his mouth and he was forced to bail at the bottom of the Gorge. He said he was going to run back slowly but we think that he'd called Rosanne on his mobile surreptitiously when we thought he was having a leak.

So then there were seven.

We slogged up the other side of the Gorge towards Galston and then turned into Arcadia Rd, past the Benedictine Monastery, into Bay Rd and followed the road down to Berowra Waters (26k). I couldn't understand why Grahame kept pushing the pace down the hill until I realised that he'd parked his car on the other side of the ferry point and was anxious to get home so that he could fulfil his other commitments that day (I think they were eat, sleep, eat and sleep).

We crossed Berowra Waters by ferry, Grahame waved us goodbye and then there were six.

A lot of grumbling went on when we were running up the hill from the ferry to Berowra and I sensed that Ray was not a popular bloke anymore, in spite of his efforts to locate his stashed drinks and pass them around generously. Anyway, we eventually got back onto the Pacific Highway at Berowra (32k) and commenced the haul back to Hornsby.

All of a sudden, Tony and Derek peeled off into Mount Colah Station and then there were four.

Jim started taking a bit of strain at this point so he and I walked a bit but kept in touch with Murray and Ray. It's fortunate that Murray was running with Ray because neither Jim nor I had anything nice to say to him or about him, and Murray is such a good bloke that he'll talk to anyone who's prepared to listen.

Anyway, at Asquith, Murray and Ray took the wrong road and then there were two.

Jim and I finished at Hornsby in about 4:10 total time. I guess you can deduct a good 30 minutes from that tine for all the messing around and cursing. Lo and behold, within a minute, Murray and Ray arrived from the wrong side of the station.

Then, to our surprise, a train pulled into the station and out hopped, or should I say crawled, two frozen wretches, Derek and Tony, who'd spent 45 minutes or so at the Mt Colah Station, waiting for a train.

I learned a good lesson that day; don't run around the block with Ray!