Two Bays 28K

The Two Bays Trail run on the Mornington Peninsula was a bucket list item for me, and I decided to do it as soon as I had a year where I was uninjured. So in November 2022, I made the call and registered for this year’s race. I was keen to experience a proper trail race, and now I have. This is a hard trail run. It begins with a 290m elevation gain over the first 3km up Arthur’s Seat. There were rocks, tree roots, steep, uneven descents, mud, sand and stairs.

The plan was for me to catch the ferry from Queenscliff to Sorrento, where Hubby would pick me up to go to our friend’s place, where we would stay the night. Saturday was hot, so before I went across, I went for a swim at the surf beach at Point Lonsdale, caught a wave and cramped in my calf. Not ideal the day before the race. Sitting on the ferry, I had one of those panic moments, thinking I’d forgotten to pack my FlipBelt. I hurriedly checked through my bag: FlipBelt, shorts, T-shirt, socks, sports bra … tick, tick, tick, and settled back to enjoy the trip across the bay. I should have dug deeper. After dinner, we decided to walk across to Diamond Bay, and I realised I’d left my runners at Point Lonsdale. Panic! You can’t run a trail race in thongs which was all I had. Fortunately, our friend we were staying with is the same size shoe as me and had some of her older runners with her, and I tested out a pair on our walk. Disaster averted.

After our walk, we did the race bib pinning ritual and laid out our gear for the race. Race rules require every runner to carry 500ml of water (refills were available at four aid stations on the course), their phone and a compression bandage in case of a snake bite. I filled a hand-held 450ml bottle with an electrolyte mix and had another 150ml of water in my flip belt. I also had salty Medjool dates and a gel for race food.

On Sunday, I woke at 5 am for a pre-race breakfast of two pieces of toast with honey, black coffee and a banana. There were seven of us running, so we took two cars to the race start at Dromana. I was in wave 14, so I started at 7:13 am. I planned to walk up hills as required, try to take in some of the scenery and finish before the four-hour cut-off. The start of the climb up Arthur’s Seat is on the road, so I ran most of that until we turned onto the steep, rocky gravel path. Pretty much everyone walked this section, especially up the rocky stairs. This was where I realised I may need some uphill power walking training. I took the opportunity to take a photo as soon as the forest opened up to allow me to see the view. This is at about 3.2km into the race and 261m; this is not quite the top.

Shortly after this, I ran into a traffic jam where the path was clogged with runners walking. There was a bit of discussion about what was going on, but with the winding path, it was hard to see far ahead, the path was just two people wide, and with steep dropoffs, there was nowhere to go around the blockage. We trudged along and soon came to a steeper downhill with stone steps where two runners assisted another runner who had fallen and hurt their leg. It is expected that runners will render assistance to anyone who is injured. It would be a long way out for those three as the closest access point was still a way off. With the treacherous stairs behind me and the path open, I could begin running again.

The narrow path soon opened up to a very steep fire access trail. I’d been warned ahead of time and knew to move across the grassed area and avoid the treacherous gravel on the road. Still, I was fairly careful and made sure I moved away from the daredevils careering down the hill, barely in control. Safely down, I enjoyed a rare flat section next to the McLarens Dam.

The next section was across and up a few roads before heading into another bushland reserve with narrow paths through beautiful ferny gullies. This was where we encountered the first-place runner in the 56km race coming the other way. Runners ahead yelled a warning, so we all popped to the side of the trail so he could have a clear run. He was flying! He would finish the out-and-back 56km course in only 25 mins more than I would do one way. Not long after, the second-place runner came flying through. Remember him; I’d meet him later in the day … and not how you might expect.

Exiting the bushland, there was a long uphill grind along a dirt road to Greens Bush. Greens bush is the largest remnant area of bush on the Mornington Peninsula, but 15km in, I wasn’t really in a state to appreciate it. At about 17km, my toes started cramping, and then both vastus medialis cramped. I’d never had this happen and had no idea how to stretch out this area. Luckily I could still run, and they both settled down again. At one stage, I got in behind a guy with keys in his backpack, which rattled with every step. At first, I thought, “How irritating”, but then I found it helped me keep a rhythm so stuck in behind him for a while. By the 21km mark, I was trying to keep putting one foot in front of the other, but I was pretty sure I would be able to make the four-hour cut-off.

Finally, I was across the final road heading for the coast, down across the creek and then … 99 steps back up again?? The track markers had named some sections of the track and at the bottom of the stairs was the sign “Stairs of spontaneous poetry.” I’m guessing this was a reference to all the expletives uttered by the runners as they negotiated the uneven stairs. My brain trying to make my legs lift high enough to negotiate each step was an interesting exercise, with a few failures, but I managed to keep on my feet. Finally, I was up on the top of the cliff and winding through the dunes on a sandy, tea-tree-lined path.

By this time, my main concern was not tripping up and not holding other runners up. So I’m concentrating on where the roots and rocks are and lifting my feet properly when the guy in front of me comes a cropper. A few of us stopped to ensure he was OK. He’s telling us he’s fine and hasn’t hurt himself, and we’re pointing out his bloody knees and elbows. “It’s all good, he says, that was from an earlier fall.” We help him up out of the tree and run for a bit before he waves us on … he’s going to walk for a bit and pull himself together. A bit further, I get my first glimpse of the lighthouse and know I’m close now.

I’ve only about 2km to go, but my quads are cramping again. I commiserate with the runner I keep swapping places with who also has cramps. Then there are spectators encouraging us, and I break through the trees and see the last uphill to the finish line. I try to pick up my legs and push on over the line—time 3:45:39.

I find the others near the van. We’ll return together to pick up our cars from the start line. Only one more runner from our party hasn’t finished yet. He makes it over the line, but he’s in bad shape. He’s fallen on the duckboard at about 16km, and it looks like his hands are broken. We put him in the van’s front seat, and then we all pile in. We’re heading to Rosebud Emergency, and we let his wife know to meet us there. Since I was in the middle row of seats, had some warm clothes and didn’t need to drive any of the cars, I stayed with the patient. Let me say that I’m not the person you want with you to put an N95 mask on you. I started trying not to put my dirty hands all over it, but in the end, I gave up and just put it on him any way I could. As we were going in, the second runner in the 56km was wheeled in with a heavily bandaged leg that he’d cut open on the trail. He was not able to finish the race. Our friend ended up with four broken bones, so both hands are now out of action.

The take-home: Trail running is hard, but I’m pretty chuffed to complete my first trail race with just one blister and some stiff muscles.