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Last weekend was magical. For the first time in my life as a runner I took part in a social run on the trails just outside Brisbane with a bunch of other like-minded people.

Sure, I’ve run heaps of trail races before and when you’re running at my pace, they’re certainly more social than competitive. But the entire intent of “Phil’s Big Adventure”, as I’ve taken to calling it, was for us to take on a significant challenge, but to do so in a safe, supported and social way.

Phil is a member of The Trailiens Run Club, which I’m also member of. We’re based at Mt Coot-tha and have an affiliation with The Trail Co. They are a great group of people to run with, although I must admit I usually only see them from behind – in this company I really am a back-of-the-pack runner.

The “D’Aguilar Traverse” to give Phil’s Big Adventure its proper name, is the third or fourth of these expeditions that Phil’s devised. Sometimes the crew simply travel to a reasonably local trail and run either a loop or point to point run.

But in this case, Phil had mapped out his own course, stitching together multiple trails and working out where to establish checkpoints along the way.

As a result we always had two vehicles supporting us as we ran, and the longest leg we ran between checkpoints was 16k. Touching base with the vehicles regularly meant we were able to refresh and refuel without having to carry all our hydration and nutrition.

It also had the added bonus of enabling people to dip in and out of the course. So at the 21k mark, if you needed a break, you could jump in the support vehicle, rest your legs, then tap back in at the next checkpoint.

I’ve been wanting to take part in one of Phil’s Big Adventures, but the timing just hasn’t worked for me until now. I love the concept so my expectations were high. Suffice to say the weekend didn’t disappoint.

Ups and downs

The D’Aguilar Traverse took us through the gorgeous country of the D’Aguilar National Park north-west of Brisbane. The run itself was 100k in total, split more or less evenly across Saturday and Sunday.

Phil had planned things so runners could take part on just Saturday, just Sunday, or both days. Those of us in for the long haul – eight in total including Donna, who’d come all the way from Canberra to take part – left Brisbane on Friday afternoon and set up base camp in cottages at Mt Glorious.

After an early dinner of lasagne and salad (carbs, anyone?) and a relatively early night, we rendezvoused with the two support vehicles, being driven by Stu and Mick. We had a little over an hour to drive to the start line at Mt Mee, via the Dayboro Bakery to fuel up.

Day one took us from Mt Mee back to the accommodation at Mt Glorious. On day two, we ran from Mt Glorious back to The Gap, at the foot of Mt Coot-tha in Brisbane’s inner-west, via Mt Nebo.

It’s beautiful country. We ran through pockets of temperate rainforest, past towering eucalypts, through open forest and across a number of creeks.

There were fire trails, long, sweeping single tracks, gnarly uphills and punishing downhills. There was plenty of elevation, around 2,000m on each day. Very little of the 100k was flat.

The route was planned with military precision. We were each given a rough itinerary which featured start times and approximate arrival times at each checkpoint.

The timings proved robust. Despite being slightly slow out of the blocks on both days, we ran within about 30 minutes of the schedule throughout.

The starting point for the run was magnificent. We kicked off in the shadow of a giant, corrugated iron gantry in an old sawmill, a remnant of the region’s past. In fact, many of the trails we ran were old timber pickers’ trails.

We set off in a slight drizzle, but it lasted only a few minutes and was the sum total of the rain we saw during the weekend. At least it gave me a chance to try out my flouro orange raincoat, even if only briefly.

Running with mates

I’ve always been a solo runner. Not because I set out to be, that’s just how it’s worked out. I’ve really enjoyed the social side of being a Trailien – both during our organised hill and speed sessions and over coffee afterwards.

It’s a similar story with my other running crew, Fat Cannon Run Club. We don’t so much run together as catch up for coffee after Parkrun, or a “victory beers” ceremony after we’ve run in an event.

So while being a Trailien and a Fat Cannon means being social with my running mates, most of my running I’ve done on my own.

That made Phil’s Big Adventure something new for me. And I loved it. Across the course of the day I got to chat with everyone. It was also a great opportunity to tap the collective brains trust for trail running coaching points.

Realising this ahead of time, I’d bought myself a set of running poles, figuring it was the perfect opportunity for two days of tutorials. And so it proved. By the end of Sunday I had hours of pole running under my belt under expert tuition.

I’d been schooled in how to get the poles in and out of my quiver and the finer points of etiquette when carrying the poles, rather than using them (in essence, don’t stab anyone and don’t take out an eye – yours or anyone else’s).

I also got lessons in downhill running technique. I wouldn’t say I’m overly cautious on the downhills, but every time we reached a lengthy downhill stretch, I found myself falling further and further behind.

When I mentioned this, Phil introduced me to the “barstool” method. “When you’re running downhill, imagine you’re sitting on a barstool,” he said. I was happy to give that a go, although I wasn’t quite sure what it was achieving.

Then Amber provided some nuance. She told me that bending your knees while running downhill – essentially squatting - equips you with a brake pedal. Now the barstool made perfect sense.

If I needed to slow down while heading downhill, I opted for a lower barstool. To speed up, I’d come up a couple of notches to something higher. There’s certainly work to be done to refine this technique, but it’s advice that seemed to work on the day.

Punishing, but fun

Because the pace was relatively relaxed, I was able to keep up. This was my main concern ahead of time – that I’d cause the crew to run behind schedule. And we stopped regularly to take in the view – although probably not often enough given how scenic the course was.

That said, I found day one punishing. There was one climb in particular that was long, steep, badly rutted and led to the evocatively named Butcher Shop Creek Road. I was very grateful for my poles when I got to the top of that one.

I ended up running the first four of five legs before jumping into the car beside Mick and being given a lift back to Mt Glorious. I was happy with a 40k day though. It’s the longest I’ve run since 54k at Dead Cow Gully which was almost all flat.

That evening, over burgers, we debriefed on the day and I asked each person what the highlight had been.

Phil’s answer spoke to his motivation for organising outings like this. “On that first, flowing, single track I could see people enjoying themselves in front of me and I could hear people having fun behind me. And I though to myself, ‘I’m in my happy place.’”

As we went around the room, it was clear we were all in Phil’s happy place with him. People’s off the cuff reflections were interesting. Some went straight to the running highlights – “that single track with all the grass trees, that was special”.

Others talked about the company – “being with such an amazing group of people”. For most, it was a combination of the two.

The support crew got a shout-out too, and rightly so. The first checkpoint we hit, about 16k in, the billy was boiled, there was a table, chairs, milk for tea and coffee, Tim Tams and Arnott’s Shortbread Creams. That’s what I call service!

Connection

I’ve had a week to think about this, and I reckon what made the weekend so great – for all of us – was the connection it afforded us. Connection with other people, and connection with the natural world.

So much of our lives is transacted virtually these days, that it’s refreshing to spend a weekend disconnected from the virtual world and fully immersed in the real one. To allow real social connection to take the place of parasocial relationships. (It was a bonus that my phone signal was patchy up in the mountains!)

Of course, all of this was made possible by two things – the fact that we are all members of The Trailiens, and Phil’s creativity and initiative in pulling his big adventure together.

So, whether you are new to trail running or a veteran, my advice is to seek out a run club near you and find your tribe. It doesn’t have to be a hugely professional undertaking. It doesn’t even have to be a formal club as such.

If you make the effort, I doubt you’ll be disappointed. Because I’m sure there are people out there in clubs all over the country who will be as generous with their knowledge, and almost as good company (yes, I’m biased), as my running mates.

And when, like me, you’ve primarily been a solo operator, having running evolve into a social activity brings a beautiful, enriching, profound new element to the sport.

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.