01/04/2026
What is better than picking the perfect race outfit? Picking 3 of course!
The gorgeous town of Bright hosted quite the soiree over the weekend, with the hills coming alive to the sound of music, heavy breathing, and a whole lot of cheering.
1 year and 2 weeks after running my first ever half-marathon race in 2025, I fronted up on Friday night to the start line of the first race of the Buffalo Stampede. The 10km Twilight run. Each stage of this 3 day competition had a distinctively different personality and each needed to be tackled with a unique strategy. For the 10km, it was 'Beat the Dark'.
A broad daylight climb, a mountain top sunset on 'Mystic', a single file scramble down the twisting red dirt bike paths cut into the side of a mountain, and then a treacherous downhill dash through a night invoking canopy of trees with the last of the fading light straining to land on the forest floor. By the time I burst out of trees on the home stretch, the dusk was thickening and I floored it home, making it across the finish just as the head torches started to light up in the hills above me. Each competitor after me was like a firefly in the night, a faceless blimp of light zooming through the dark toward the rush of sound and noise that was the finish line.
We barely made dinner at the only open pizza place before the kitchen closed and then it was back to the motel, quick repack of my running vest for the next day and a collapse into bed ready for race 2. The 20km SkyRun. The strategy was 'Keep it Together'.
This was the hardest race of the series. Waking up to climb the same impossible climb from the night before turned out to be the easiest part. Breaking the top of Mystic, I was expecting some rolling runable sections before hitting Clearspot, but the mini punches just kept coming, with each of the 'small' hills turning out to be repeated vertical walls of ascent, then a sharp downhill section on 'Middle Track', a brutal descent so intense I struggled to stay upright as a man tripped and rolled down the hill beside me taking logs and stones with him.
A short break in the form of a long slow uphill that I limped up with the same distinct swagger of exhaustion echoed by my p*ers. I failed to be enlivened by the marshal on the corner dancing and cheering trying to distract me from the fact that as we turned, Clearspot rose above me like a great wall in the sky.
4 days later and a part of me still feels like I am trekking up that mountain. Step. Step. Step. Pause. Step. Step. Step. Pause. One foot. Another foot. I don't how I reached the top. A brief stop, a smile, a photo with the people I met walking side by side with them too exhausted to speak for over 40mins. Step, step, step, pause, check your hill mates, step, step, step again.
It's downhill now. 8km of downhill to the finish line and I don't know how I am running. Every downhill step is jarring my knees and my quads don't have the strength to brake and absorb the impact. "Heel to toe, keep my hips straight, weight over my knees." Shiree is in my head the whole way down, but I am leaning back instead, instinctively braking, visions of a man rolling down the hill beside a little too fresh in my mind.
It's 2km to go now and I am grateful for the small hills the course is throwing at me. An excuse to release the brakes and let gravity hold me back instead of fear. I hit the pavement and I know the home stretch is nigh. Suddenly Maddy is there running beside me, urging me on, and I am over the finish. Looking up at Mystic rising above me and I know that I am tapped out. 2 days of that hill is enough.
A freezing dip in the hotel pool, a quick warm shower and I am back at the startline. No race this time, it's a 4 hour volunteer shift at the gear check for the Marathon. Working as fast as we can, it takes 2 hours to clear the queue and have a spare moment to test my shaky legs with a little walk around on the nearby netball court. 2 more hours of thinning crowds and its time for a quick dinner (tacos), another bag repack, and off to bed.
The 3rd day started at 4am. Dress, load the bottles in my pack, cram in some breakfast and I am on the bus at 5am, the first of 10 buses headed up to the Mt Buffalo Chalet. 6am and I am sitting at the marshal point watching bus load after bus load of runners disembark and instantly join the toilet queues. By 7am the sunrise is creeping over the horizon and I head over to the start line. 7.20am and we are finally off! 42.2km of SkyMarathon between me and the finish line. The strategy? Just finish.
A long slow downhill start to fight for a position and 2 km in the man in front of me has dropped so many farts I have tasted them. Still rugged in my long sleeve thermal shirt, the first 7.5km looked to be flat and rolling on the map, but naturally I found myself in a single file march going up stairs, down stairs, over a hidden creek crossing, and then back up stairs again. 5km in going up tight stairs and the guy in front of me lays another one right in my face. No surprise, it's the same guy, somehow we found each other again.
A quick stop at the aid station to pack my warm shirt away and the descent begins. Down. Down. Down. If it's not down, it's rocky. My foot has rolled, it is catching on the roots and sliding off rocks. Reaching the base of the rocks and the trail opens up, its runnable, but the brakes are on again. The quads are hammered and the knees are jarring. Down is slower than up at this point.
18km in and I hit the first major aid station. The woman takes my bottles, refills them and puts them back in my pack. I check my sock and refit my shoe tighter. It's not a rock in my shoe, it's just a blister. On the road again and it's a gentle up 4km and then a gentle 4km down. Broadly the most runnable section of the whole marathon. But I forgot to p*e at the last aid station and I am moving slow, each step jarring the bladder just enough to keep me slow.
27km and I find the next aid station. Mum is waving at me. I am nearly an hour later than I said I would be, but she doesn't care. She cheers as I cruise past and I run straight for the sunscreen and toilets. A quick restock and I am enroute to to Dingo Ridge. Mum joins me on the road for a bit on her bicycle. It's a slow gradual uphill and she questions my pace as I cruise slowly past crowds of people walking the incline. "This isn't the hill Mum" I say, as we turned the corner where Dingo Ridge looms up in front of me. "This is the hill!"
The jaws around me are dropping to the floor as the Marathon only runners set sight on the first major hill in their course. I have settled back to a walk now and autopilot kicks in. Step, step, step, pause. Step, step, step, pause. I am cruising past people, making a slow but steady beeline for the top of each false summit. 7.5km of cruising uphill and I am jogging it in to the aid station still churning past people. Here, in this moment, on the 3rd day, I have found my groove. It's 36km and I am dancing. I jog uphill, grinning as I pass a couple of guys. "Just 1 parkrun and a cool down to go!" I call out. They love the optimism and cheer as I cruise off into the distance.
38km and I hit the downhill again. Back on Middle Track. I am moving slow. I stumble past the log where the man rolled past me. The guys from earlier catch back up and pass me. "This doesn't feel like any parkrun we have ever done!" They joke as they run past. They are teasing me, but they take their hats off and give a little head tip as they move past. Acknowledgement of my red bib and a sign of respect that I am out here with them on day 3 of my race while they run their first event for the weekend.
This sign of respect reaches me, and as soon as I hit the base of the down, I am off again. Flowy single track, through the back roads of Bright, and descending into the event grounds. The final 500m opens up in front of me and Maddy and Caitlin are there sprinting besides me. I am through. It is over, and the only thought running through my head is... "They should make a day 4 for this race."
