Becoming an ultra-marathoner – a story about gratitude by Erica Sparke.

This is a story about gratitude.

In hindsight, I should not have booked my first ultramarathon for the November following my first marathon in April 2021. I figured it would be easier to “maintain fitness” than “start over”, but severely misjudged the rest and recovery both my body and mind would need after such a long slog of training and the marathon itself.

By the time I’d run the marathon, I wanted my days back. My time back. And most of all my joy back. I wanted to explore trails with friends without regard to kilometres or “time on feet”. I wanted to hike, cycle or swim on the weekends. Have lazy breakfasts with my family. Sleep in. Not to have to run all the time. In all weather. Cold. Rain. Blistering heat. On holidays. Before dawn. On my lunchbreaks. Between meetings. Running. Running. Always running.

But I’d committed… so on I went. As it happened, my ultra training block was disrupted by the August COVID lockdown in Canberra, and the event itself was postponed to March 2022. This only made things worse. My motivation was low and my pace was glacial. Every run felt like wading through mud, and this wasn’t helped by my knee which began promptly and painfully filling up with fluid on long runs.

I had also started hating my body. Fed up with years of counting calories and tracking everything I ate, I had recently started on an intuitive eating journey (supported by a wonderful dietitian and nutritionist). While I’m so glad I did this, and will never go back to counting calories, I am in a bigger body now, and it is so hard to undo years – no, DECADES – of absorbing toxic culture about the value of thin-ness.

This is despite knowing that health, fitness, and thin-ness are not intrinsically linked in the ways we have so often been taught, and also that there are VERY real health dangers to being under fuelled as an athlete. This is also despite still being a ‘straight-sized’ human who still has the privilege of fitting into most brands. I still felt crappy, and I also hated myself for feeling crappy.

I was dreading going out on course and being photographed by the official photographers. I was convinced that if I failed to complete the run, people would think it was because of my bigger body. I felt that if I were skinnier, people would be less likely to judge my run and my pace. People wouldn’t see me on course and wonder what on earth I thought I was doing attempting to complete an ultramarathon.

Still, begrudgingly, I plodded on. Kilometre after kilometre, hour after hour. All the while, doubt plaguing me. I was worried my knee would flare up and end my race or see me desperately try to continue before inevitably missing the cut-off. The threat of COVID loomed dark and menacing over my head. I knew at any moment I could be forced into quarantine by an exposure and miss a critical run or the race itself. I was terrified of getting COVID and it wreaking havoc on my lungs and body. Why was I bothering to train at all if it could all be taken away in an instant?

But that’s just it, isn’t it? It can all end in an instant. COVID or not. I knew something had to change and the only thing I could control was my attitude. As events around the world became more and more devastating, I started trying to approach every run with gratitude. I GET to go safely outside and move my body today. I GET to enjoy nature with my friends on my run today. And I am SO GRATEFUL to have this moment of safety and joy and movement that is in no way guaranteed. My coach and physio were confident my knee would hold up for the 50km, especially with some rest during taper, so I tried to complete the rest of my training with a grateful heart for every minute I got to run.

Eventually, I found myself at the start line of the Stromlo Running Festival 50km event. I should say here that I love the SRF with my whole heart. My family lost our home in the 2003 Canberra bushfires, and this event was created to celebrate the strength and resilience of the local community following those dark days. While I only started my running journey in 2019, I spent time as a youngster horseback riding, picnicking, and walking in the area. I ran the 10km event in 2019, followed by the 30km event in 2020, and was now hoping to complete the trifecta with the 50km event which had been intended for 2021 before the reschedule.

As was the case for my marathon, I’d had a relatively sleepless night but was more confident this time that it wouldn’t affect the run all that much. My magnificent friend Kaye picked me up in the still-dark morning and delivered me to the start, which definitely helped with pre-event jitters (seriously, if you don’t have a Kaye in your life you are really missing out). The legend himself Rob De Castella was there as always, from before sunrise, giving every wave of runners a pep-talk and seeing us all off safely. And before I knew it, I was off!

I started in the second wave and headed out on the first 20km loop to the National Arboretum and back. I was moving faster than a lot of my recent long runs, but still quickly fell to the very back of the pack. Not long after, I began to be overtaken by the third and fourth waves of runners as well. I felt so out of place amongst these strong runners and tried not to let this get to me as we wove our way through my favourite forest and along some beautiful single track in the Arboretum for a gorgeous sunrise.

My heart was pounding out of my chest and I was so anxious I would not make the event cut-off of 9.5 hours. The cut off is generous – allowing for a 11:30min/km overall pace, but there is a lot of elevation – particularly in the back half, and I knew I’d be walking those big hills. The flooding in recent weeks had also led to a course change that added distance, and this was playing heavily on my mind. During training, I had decided that it was most likely the event would take me around 8 hours, but my knee felt like a ticking time bomb that could end my race or slow me down significantly at any time.

I’d decided my event motto was going to be that of the inimitable Andy Dwyer – “There’s an old saying in show business: the show must go wrong. Everything always goes wrong, and you just have to deal with it”. I’d heard someone say that ultra-running is basically problem solving, and you just have to solve the problem that is in front of you at that moment and keep putting one foot in front of the other. So, for now, my problem was just keeping moving despite my anxiety screaming at me to just stop this charade. I just focused on putting down one foot and then the other. Again and again. Fighting the urge to just sit down in the middle of the trail, give up, and cry.

I reached the top of the first big climb, Dairy Farmer’s Hill, to find a band playing at the top! I don’t think they were there for the event but were a welcome lift to my spirits – and this also marked the beginning of the first big downhill and relatively flat section back to the event hub, which mentally felt good. Leaving the forest, I looked longingly at the parkrunners in the distance and desperately wished I was just doing 5km today. As I got closer, I realised one of the runners was my friend Megan and she was waiting for me! I think she had expected to smile, wave, take a few happy snaps and send me on my merry way so I probably scared the life out of her by basically sprinting at her, leaping into her arms and crying with relief that this magical hug fairy had appeared right when I needed her.

After some kind words and encouragement, I eventually let her go, and she sent me on my way with a lighter heart. I made my way towards the 20km aid station with my new race mantra – “my race, my pace” repeating in my mind. From this point, until the end of the race, I started being kinder to myself. Every time my watch told me I had finished a km under 11:30min, I congratulated myself out loud. “Yes!” “Good!” “Great job!” “Another one!” “Well done!” Every km over this time, I told myself “It’s ok! That was a big hill!” – but that only happened a handful of times in the end. I also watched encouraging messages from friends and fellow RMA come in on my phone, cheering me forward.

At this point I started texting my coach and my friend Caroline with my location, as Caroline was hoping to be at the 20km aid station which is conveniently back at the event hub. I had asked her to force me to stop and refill all my hydration and make me use the bathroom. I knew the time would be playing on my mind and I’d need encouragement to take a beat and make sure my supplies were replenished. I am not used to having to refill my hydration on my run, and it made me very nervous. I was carrying over 2L of fluid but I know how brutal, hot and exposed the Stromlo course is, and I wanted to make sure I had enough to make it to the 35km aid station.

I also knew I’d need encouragement to head out on the last 30km of the course. This part is the same as the 30km event so I knew just how tough it is. As promised, there Caroline was, waiting for me with our friend Mel M – huge smiles all round. Race director Mel Bingley also happened to be there when I ran in, and despite having an entire event to run, she was right there with words of encouragement, reassuring me I was well ahead of the cut-off. She even grabbed my flasks to refill them while Caroline and Mel M took my vest to fill the back bladder, so I could get myself together without worrying about time so much. I seriously love the trail running community so much. I grabbed some delicious snacks and stashed them in my pockets in case I was feeling low later.

I was hesitant to keep going, but the girls sent me off on my way with big claps and cheers. I had decided to walk the next little bit and get my head together, and having learnt my lesson about stewing alone in your headspace from my marathon, I reached out to some other runners and asked if I could walk with them awhile. One was a fellow Running Mums Australia (RMA) runner Lexy, and the other was Vickie. It was great to meet these ladies and I was so grateful to keep cheerful conversation with them for awhile before I started feeling confident enough to start running again, and off I went.

The next 15km went relatively well, but I already knew this is the best part of the remainder of the course. There are lots of downhills and runnable flats, and the day was thankfully cool and overcast thus far. This part of the course lulls you into a false sense of security until about the last few kilometres before the next manned aid station – when the track starts to climb again and goes for what feels like a solid 100km.

Eventually, the ringing of cowbells meets your ears and it sounds to your heart like the gates of heaven creaking open. The aid station appears like a mirage and the attending angels help you refill your hydration, feed you snacks, make sure you’re ok to continue and give you TRAIL RUNNER MANNA FROM HEAVEN (soft drink). Let me tell you that soda has never tasted so good in your life. Your body is screaming for it. I could have bathed in it. There is no room for food guilt in ultra-running. Someone told me to splash my face with water and it felt so good I could have kissed them.

The sun had decided to come out with a vengeance at this point. It was supposed to thunderstorm, but instead had become quite hot. While I spent the remaining kilometres debating with myself which of the two outcomes would actually have been worse, I did not reach a conclusion. A brief poll showed that the runners around me were similarly undecided, and it’s possible that the last 15km of a 50km run just feel pretty bad regardless.

The last 15km of SRF contains the biggest climbs in the whole course, and despite being hot, tired, and climbing what felt like Mt Everest at this point, I was really happy. I knew I was going to make cut-off. I knew I had managed my energy well and was even passing other runners at this point. I had successfully problem solved whatever was right in front of me at the time – whether that was hunger, heat, thirst, or just putting one foot in front of another up those blasted hills.

In my deliriousness, I started rhyming my updates to my coach and the girls “A MARATHON DOWN… STILL NO FROWN! (ok some frowns, but you know)” – “YO YO YO! 5KM TO GO!”. I met another RMA, Beck, at the top of the biggest hill, and we walked and talked for awhile before I jogged into the third and last manned aid station singing and yelling “YOU GUYS!! I THINK I’M GOING TO MAKE IT!!”.

I was the happiest when I reached the Canberra container bridge at the top of the last notable climb. When I ran the 30km event the previous year, I couldn’t run the last downhill because I was exhausted and scared I would lose control of my body. But here I was, at the end of 20km more distance – in a much bigger body, running slower… and I COULD STILL RUN. I took off down the hill and spread my arms wide, wanting to feel the breeze on as much of my body as possible.

I kept a slow run/walk up for the last few km, passing a few more runners before finally reaching the safety of the criterium track. I could see the finish line now, and I could see my sister and my mom. Caroline, Heather and Lian ran up and unfurled an RMA banner. Mel S-B was there cheering and filming the finish. My coach was waiting at the finish line, and Deek was still there, announcing every runner coming in – even the very back of the pack. He noted that I had made it “rock tape and all!” – referencing my heavily taped knees – and I take this gentle ribbing as a real honour.

I made it well under the cut-off, at 8h 11m, which considering the extra distance was bang on my prediction. But the time doesn’t matter at all. This showed me that I know my body and manage my energy well, and I’m so grateful to my body for carrying me through this awesome achievement. It showed me I am strong in mind and spirit. And it showed me I am surrounded by a wonderful community of sensational humans.

I celebrated with pizza, lots of rest and the next day spent the whole day in my event t-shirt. I treat my event shirt like a Navarro cheerleader treats the ocean at Daytona – I don’t go in it till I win, and I wore it with pride!

I am so grateful to so many people for helping me achieve this goal. First and foremost my wonderful coach Gav (Eager2Elite) – who put up with almost a full year of me complaining that “I can’t do it”, who was wholeheartedly supportive of my eating/body journey and gave me some helpful resources about the ‘myth of racing weight’ and the real dangers of under-fuelling, and most importantly who never EVER let me make a decision while exhausted. Crucially, he also brought an esky with cans of ice-cold soft drink to the finish line.

I was also supported by other health professionals – Julz, Jamie, David and Emma – who helped me be strong enough to accomplish this feat. My wonderful running buddies accompanied me on many a long run and made the kilometres less lonely, especially my RMA ‘Sunday runday funday’ crew and the RMA ladies in general are just the most supportive bunch going round, really. Thanks must also go to my wonderful family, especially my husband and 3yo who went without mama for many a Sunday morning while I ran for hours at a time. While my 3yo couldn’t be at the finish line this time, he does very proudly wear my ‘metal’ (medal) around the house from ‘mommy’s very very very long run’.