In 2022 I met a friend, Emma, who had just run her first 100 km, ‘accidentally’ at Krayzie K’s midwinter backyard ultra. I was intrigued, not to mention impressed, as to how someone could ‘accidentally’ run such a huge distance.
She explained that a backyard ultra is a loop course of 6.7 km which runners begin on the hour every hour until the last person is standing. Each runner must be back across the line before the starter whistle signals the next loop to start or they are disqualified.
It’s a race that challenges both physical and mental endurance.
Krayzie’s Midwinter Backyard Ultra (KMBU) was local to me, just twenty minutes up the road, and according to Emma, it was fun. I didn’t need much more convincing than that so I put my name down for the 2023 event. By the time it drew closer though I had had many life changes and my commitment to enter waned so I withdrew my entry. Who wants to run around in circles all day anyway?
But just three weeks out from KMBU I had no specific goals and so when I started seeing the build-up to the event on social media FOMO kicked in. I emailed the race director to ask to withdraw my withdrawal and luckily there was a spot for me.
With only 18 days to prepare I was about to try for my first 100 km with nowhere near as much training under my belt as I would have liked. I wasn’t feeling very confident, but I also wasn’t feeling stressed, after all, it didn’t matter if I chose to do one lap or 10 laps, I could finish whenever I wanted.
In the days leading up to the event, Steph, the race director was doing a great job of sharing the Dead Cow Gully backyard ultra and its unfoldings, as Sam Harvey, Havey Lewis, and Phil Gore battled for not only a one-man victory but a world record domination that spread across 4 days.
I spent those pre-race days avidly following these three men running in circles, in awe of what they were putting their bodies through. It brought me a new appreciation of the backyard race format and completely changed how I would approach my own challenge. It made me more determined to face the inevitable boredom, pain, and my brain’s desire to stop on race day, head-on. I went from nonchalant to fully invested.
Knowing that I was now ‘all in’ meant I needed to prepare to go all day and into the darkness. I set about organising my gear and nutrition requirements. Turns out that this is not easy when you have no idea how long you will be running for.
The evening before race day we set up our event shelter, folding chairs, water, and camping stove. We even put up bunting and ‘accented’ the space with dinosaur and flamingo-shaped fairy lights. Emma was right. This was going to be epic fun. Anything with light-up dinosaurs could only ever be fun!
Sleep the night before the event didn’t really happen, I was an absolute bundle of nervous, excitable, energy. I got a few hours in the end but I awoke feeling utterly terrible, with nausea so bad I questioned whether I should even start. Running generally cures my pre-race nausea and I hoped that was going to be true of this day too.
Arriving at race village just five minutes before the race briefing was not planned but was the reality after we got caught in a traffic backlog with all the other runners trying to park. It was a whirlwind of activity and before I had time to overthink my lack of organisation I was on the start line with 200 other Krayzie people. Note to self for next year, plan to arrive much earlier!
The beauty of this event is that there is no feeling of competitiveness. That wouldn’t come until much later when the field dwindled to less than a handful of people. Until then we all needed to be in the same place at the same time each hour, so we were all in solidarity and, as a result, the camaraderie, support, and conversation on offer were excellent. It was easy to allow myself to get swept up in the atmosphere and I quickly forgot about how nervous I was.
Before I knew it the starter whistle was blown and slowly we shuffled our way through the starting corral and over the timing mat for our first lap. The group quickly elongated like a giant millipede as we made our way out of the campground and disappeared into the forest.
Within those first few laps, I started to find a rhythm. 3 whistle blows saw me heading to the corral, 2 whistle blows and I was watching the back of heads in the corral, 1 whistle blow I would start running, at 20 minutes I’d leave the first forest section, then run the pebble road of doom, at 30 minutes I’d enter sand dunes, 45 minutes hit the boardwalk, 52 minutes cross the timing mat signaling the end of the lap. It was a dependable and comforting rhythm that I used all day as a mental strategy to help me break down the course into bite-size chunks and make sure I stayed at a constant pace.
By the time we hit the 50k milestone on lap 7 my body was already tiring and in a decent amount of pain. I had no idea how I would stick this out for the rest of the day, but I’ve felt worse in races before so I knew I wasn’t done yet. I guzzled some flat coke, took some painkillers, and headed back to the corral to go again.
The end of lap 7 had also brought with it a wonderful boost in the form of a close friend whooping and cheering me on as I crossed the timing mat. So I had a few moments in between laps 7 and 8 of some new, fresh, energy being shone my way which helped immensely with my morale.
Luckily the painkillers, flat coke, and the arrival of my friend had reversed my bad mood and during lap 8 I managed to relax into an almost meditative flow that had a smile back on my face, made even bigger by the arrival of a second friend to cheer me on.
This race format brings little room for rest and recovery, it forces you into a steady pace that your body may or may not resist. We could run a faster lap and have more time to rest/eat but risk expending more energy, or we could run slower, expending less energy but having less rest and recovery time.
This is where strategy comes in but having never run a race like this I didn’t have much of an idea of what works best. I adopted a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants type strategy and the resulting 51-52 minute laps were working well for me so far.
Mentally there was always something to think about. Is my pace right? What do I need to do most when I next get back to my base? Shall I pee at the start of the lap or the end of the lap? Do I have my phone/water/headtorch etc? Have I eaten enough? Drunk enough? Before being closely followed with utmost indignation, ‘Is it seriously time to go again?’
As the laps continued I lost count of where we were at and I quickly learned not to ask the other runners as most of them either didn’t know or didn’t want to know. Each lap I ticked off was another job done as far as I was concerned and through the course of the day, my confidence grew. Maybe I could reach 100k after all.
Lap 13 finally came and by this time I was having to fight demons to keep going, the tiredness and pain threatening to kick my arse. From here it was a mental game and I was working on pure determination and stubbornness. No way would I give up now.
At the end of lap 13 things started to get interesting when all of a sudden the wind picked up and we found ourselves being hit by pine needles as they flew off the trees and into our faces. Then a few raindrops joined the party but nothing that was too concerning at that point. To my knowledge, we weren’t forecast for rain and so on leaving for lap 14, it did not occur to me to put my rain jacket on or in my bag. A rookie error that demonstrates the level of tiredness and lack of cognitive thinking I was operating under.
During lap 14 the rain really started falling, the wind raged through the trees, pine needles flew, and branches creaked and cracked. Believe it or not, this was exactly what I needed to keep me going. A little bit of mother nature drama gave me the boost I needed to see out the lap. But by the time I crossed the mat again, I was not only dog-tired but now also pretty wet.
As I headed back to my base for dry clothes and my rain jacket, I was greeted by chaos around camp. Unbeknownst to us runners, race village had undergone a far worse weather siege than we had endured whilst running through the shelter of the forest. Gazebos had taken flight across the paddock; buckled and broken from the speed and force of the wind.
Lucky for me, my friend from earlier in the day had returned for the dark hours with her 12-year-old daughter and they had managed to hold down my tent, and keep its contents dry from the deluge. Legends!
The already saturated paddock had not coped with the deluge and was now a slimy, soggy, carpet of muddy goo. I had to laugh at the absurdity of what we runners were asking of our faithful support crews. They were soaking wet and covered in mud having battled to maintain some semblance of order throughout the storm. But huge kudos to them as they were still here with huge smiles and cheers of encouragement for us even at this late hour. Their unabating support made a huge difference!
As I slid, slipped, and shuffled back towards the timing mat to begin my 15th and final lap I wasn’t sure how I would put yet another 6.7 km under my feet, it felt overwhelming in its enormity. I knew I would need to dig deep to finish this lap within the hour, it would be devastating if I got disqualified at the last hurdle.
The energy of the running group had quietened by this point, we were all feeling it in these hours of darkness and many, including myself, had turned inwards with their thought processes. We were all digging deep, fighting our own personal battles. But I knew my body could still do this, it was just my mind that was intent on telling me it couldn’t.
My internal dialogue got louder inside my head, willing myself not to stop. Keep shuffling Vicky, you can’t give up now. Just keep running. Don’t stop. It’ll be over soon. No, don’t walk. Run. You can’t miss the cut-off. You can stop soon. Just a few more minutes and you are done. There are the campground lights. You are so close. Keep running. You’ve got this. There’s the timing mat. Go go go!
And then, just like that my race was over and I had just achieved my first 100 km distance with six minutes to spare. I was well and truly cooked!
Well done to the Krayzie Crew, you promised an epic day and you well and truly delivered!
Fancy giving a backyard ultra a go? Check out these ones in New zealand …
Arrowtown Backyard Ultra https://www.arrowtown.com/our-town/events/arrowtown-backyard-ultra/
Pigs Backyard Ultra https://pigsbackyardultra.com/
Krayzie Midwinter Backyard Ultra (KMBU) https://www.krayziekapers.net/krayzie-midwinter-backyard-ultra
The Riverhead Backyard Relaps Ultra https://backyardultra.com/races/the-riverhead-backyard-relaps-ultra-2/
Scenic Circles Backyard Ultra https://sceniccirclesbackyardultra.com/
