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Sometimes in life, when you’ve really been looking forward to something and building it up in your own mind, when you actually get there, it fails to live up to expectations.

That was certainly a risk for me at Dead Cow Gully, but I’m happy to report it wasn’t how things panned out. I had high expectations and, if anything, the event itself exceeded them.

When race director Tim Walsh established “The Gully”, as he calls it, five years ago, he wanted it to be a grassroots event. And he’s stayed true to his word.

DCG has a great vibe. For me, it represents the best of the trail running community. No posers, no egos. Just a bunch of possibly borderline insane people keen to test their limits by running the 6.7k farm track again and again and again. And again.

It’s a stunning setting to run in. Dead Cow Gully is on the Walsh family cattle property outside Nanango, about two-and-a-half hours from Brisbane. The course winds its way around a number of paddocks, punctuated by gum trees.

It runs along the gully that gives the race its name (the race website says the gully “is named for the unfortunate beast that lost its footing close to the creek’s edge and was discovered a week later tangled in some protruding tree roots – two metres above the creek bed”), but unfortunately persistent rain in the lead-up to the race meant we were only able to run about 20 metres up the gully. The rest of it was too wet.

The course is relatively easy, relatively flat and very scenic. There is always something to look at to take your mind off the boredom and the pain. These things combined have made it an iconic backyard ultra on the Australian trail running calendar.

It’s also twice seen the backyard ultra world record broken and I won’t lie, for me that gives this event extra allure - knowing it’s been the scene of some of the most amazing performances in history.

Happy … or disappointed?

Sadly, on the day I didn’t produce a run for the ages. Given I’d managed one 5k run in the three week lead-up, I wasn’t expecting to. And my initial response to running eight yards was to be delighted. That is, after all, almost 54k which is a good, solid hit out in anyone’s language.

By Sunday afternoon, however, that satisfaction was tempered by some disappointment as the realisation dawned on me that while I only managed to finish loop eight with literally seconds to spare, I could - and should - have turned around and set off on loop nine.

But rather than starting at the end, let’s go back to the beginning. My fellow Fat Cannon Run Club Trail Division runner Michael and I had camped at the farm overnight, so we enjoyed a fairly relaxed start to our race day.

The hip/glute/back injury I’d been carrying had affected my sleep over the previous month, so I got about as good a sleep as normal in the tent. Jim and Karra, who were part of our crew, were in their campertrailer beside us, and we started the day with coffee and pancakes.

It was cold (by Brisbane standards) at the start, but I only needed a long-sleeved shirt with a short-sleeved shirt over the top, plus gloves for the first loop. It was a beautiful start, with the sun rising through the trees as a light mist slowly melted away.

Almost 250 runners set off together, and we were quickly strung out along the farm track. Michael’s aim was to run three loops and start a fourth, and I’d agreed to run with him on those three loops to pace him. So we set out in a very relaxed manner.

At the end of loop one, which took around 52 minutes, I felt great - 10 out of 10. By this stage my wife Caron and daughter Charlie had joined Jim and Karra as crew, and despite a) this being our first crack at a backyard ultra, and b) me having left printouts of the race plan at home, they were a well-oiled machine.

I stripped off the long sleeves and my gloves, downed half a banana and half a dozen small choc-chip cookies, replenished by electrolytes, and we were off on loop two.

Halfway through loop three Michael was struggling, so we slowed right down. I was balancing my need to give myself enough time between loops with the desire to tow him across the line.

I made sure I was within sight for him until about 1.5k to go at which point I took off for home. In the end Michael’s training paid off, he finished loop three, started loop four and in the process both met his goal and ran further than he’d ever run before.

On my own

From the start of loop four I was running my own race. My body felt pretty good. The hip/glute/back injury that had given me so much grief in the previous month had settled right down (thank-you physio Danny), but other parts of my body were starting to complain.

By the end of loop four I had pain in the top of my right foot, the bottom of my left calf and both quads. Despite this, I still felt really good. At the start of loop five I spotted Jodie, who I used to work with at the ABC. So we had a good chat as we trotted around the course. Eventually I let her go - she was a bit too quick for me.

Given I’d walked it the day before and run it four times that morning, by this stage, I had become very familiar with the course. For me, it fit into three sections. The first third - or perhaps a little further - is easy. It’s a broad, slightly undulating path that heads away from the homestead.

You run through the gully and on for some distance before you reach the trickiest part of the course (given the gully was out of action for us) - a stretch of single track. This was the slowest part of the course because it was difficult to pass, and especially in the early laps the field tended to bunch here.

Once you clear that section, there is another easy trail that winds through the paddocks close to the road before heading back - up a slight hill which is a bit cruel - to the start/finish line.

After five loops I felt comfortable with the course. The first third eases you in, the middle third keeps you on your toes and the final third brings you home comfortably. I was less comfortable physically!

I was starting to cramp. My left leg in particular was problematic. I was cramping in my calf and quad and had some ITB pain in my knee. The team helped me change my shoes and socks, which set off cramps in about six different parts of both feet - a bizarre feeling I’ve never had before. I left our gazebo telling the team this might be my last loop…

As we milled around in the start corral before the start of loop six I saw Peter, another former ABC colleague and Jodie’s husband. We also had a good catch up before, again, I had to let Peter go. I was really starting to feel the pinch and although he was trotting along comfortably, I needed to slow up.

Dead Cow Gully is a family tradition for Peter and Jodie - their two kids were running as well and Peter has covered the race for the ABC, while also running it!

While I watched Peter slowly disappear into the distance, I had another new experience - I noticed my right toe was starting to point out on a 45 degree angle to the right. This was weird because generally my feet hit the ground pointing straight ahead.

Before I had a chance to ponder this too much, the reason became apparent - the muscle on the outside of my lower leg began cramping, and this is what was pulling my toe out of alignment.

Despite this, loop six was less uncomfortable than loop five. I’d hit my knee with some Pain Away during the pit stop and that helped the ITB pain settle. When I arrived at the end of loop six it was clear my cramping legs were the biggest challenge I faced.

By the end of loop seven I had both my toes being pulled outwards by those weird, lower leg cramps and my calves and hamstrings were threatening to go the same way. I was still able to run, but I had to stop periodically and force my feet back into alignment.

I was busily chewing down salt tabs to try to solve the cramping, more in hope than expectation to be honest. But I was still making reasonable progress by running for 250 strides, then walking for 60.

Pressing issue

I finished loop six just as the three-minute warning whistle was being blown and while the cramps were problematic, I had a more urgent matter on my mind. I crossed the line, tossed my water bottle to a member of the team, and headed straight to the portaloos.

Now, on most loops I could have postponed my toilet stop until after the start of the next loop, because there is a set of portaloos that are strategically situated beyond the start line. It would eat into my hour to complete the loop, but would allow me to spend more time with my crew refreshing, refuelling and massinging my cramping legs.

However, this wasn’t an option between loops seven and eight because Tim had decided loop eight would be a “reverse loop” - run in the opposite direction to the previous seven. There are not many rules in backyards, but one is that once you have started a loop, you can’t turn around and go back through the start-finish line into the start corral - it’s instant disqualification. And at the start of loop eight, all the portaloos would be on the wrong side of that line.

So I’ve dashed to the toilet. Going through my mind is the fact I told my team whatever they did, they weren’t to let me “quit in the chair”. If I finished a loop, I wanted to start the next one. But I’d never considered the prospect of “quitting on the loo”.

It was a race against the clock, helped - or perhaps not - by a voice from outside shouting, “Stuart, hurry up! Stuart!” I’ll spare you the finer details, but suffice to say I finished my business and emerged with about 20 seconds to spare, grabbed a yellow Zooper Dooper, a full bottle and a handful of Chicken Crimpys and headed out for loop eight.

It wasn’t long before I knew I was in trouble. Despite having chewed down what felt like 100 salt tabs, every time I started to run, both legs cramped. I was waddling like a duck with toes at 10 o’clock and two o’clock - and a straight-legged duck at that to stop the hammies and calves from joining in.

But I could walk. So I thought, no drama, I’ll walk this one in. Seven official loops, timed out on course on number eight. Not what I’d hoped for, but no disgrace, especially given my disrupted build-up.

I was enjoying the scenery, but after a while I thought I’d give running another crack. May as well try to get in as quickly as possible. Victory beers were calling. To my surprise, I found the cramps had subsided, and while it was still uncomfortable, I was able to run.

By this time I was a little more than halfway around the loop, and behind schedule to finish, so in my mind timing out on course was inevitable. But after the single track middle third of the course, I knew there was a long downhill to the gully and beyond, and I was able to run almost all of this.

That meant, as I climbed out of the gully, I knew I had about 2k to run. And I had about 14 minutes to do it in. “I could just about make this,” I thought. So I started running. And with just one or two very brief pauses to straighten out my feet, I ran all the way to the line.

Tim had flipped the field back to a loop in the “normal” direction, so as I was “sprinting” up the hill towards the finish line trying to beat the bell, all the remaining runners were formed up in the start corral facing me.

The crowd parted and, to more applause than I deserved, I crossed the astroturf finish line with about 15 seconds to spare. “Are you going again?” Caron asked me. “No, I’m done,” I said.

Regrets, I’ve had a few

Now, that was a great way to finish. I really felt like I’d achieved something, coming back from what I thought was a hopeless situation on loop eight to get myself across the line. My team - my other daughter Alex and our friend Kylie had joined us by now so there was a real gang of us - were full of encouragement for how well I’d gone, which was lovely.

And as I enjoyed a beer and a steak to celebrate, I was also satisfied.

But later… it dawned on me that given how I finished loop eight - by running most of the last 2k - there’s every chance I could have finished loop nine, or at least given it a good crack.

And to be honest, that’s really annoying me. Part of me thinks if I’d finished loop eight 30 seconds earlier, I’d have reached this conclusion in the moment. But I literally crossed the line and just like that the field was off for loop nine.

I guess that’s one of the big learnings for me. When things start to go wrong, there’s no guarantee they won’t come good again. And persevering through those rough patches is part of backyard ultra running - part of any ultra running really.

So what does that mean? It means I have unfinished business at Dead Cow. And so I’ll be back next year to put it to rest.

For the record, this year’s winner was Sam Christie with 66 yards. The assist went to Jayden McCormack. Two young guns who are definitely ones to watch in backyard ultras in future.

And finally, a heart-felt thank-you to the crew who came out to support me. You were magnificent and I couldn’t have asked for more. Thanks also to everyone who sent support and best wishes before, during and after the race. This was the big event for me this year, and your support really did make it that bit more special.

Upcoming Events

There are way too many events for me to list everything that’s happening around the country, but here is a selection of upcoming races (with a bias towards South East Queensland).

The Running Calendar website is a great source if you want a comprehensive understanding of what’s available around the country.