Author: Kevin Cassidy

Frankston to Portsea 55km Run 55km/34 miles

Sunday 14th April 2024

1.	Tom Dade	4:23:36
2.	Bryan Lim	4:28:45
3.	Caleb Ha	4:49:55
4.	Andrew Moldrich	4:53:52
5.	Oliver Maass	4:55:42
6.	Miah Noble [F]	5:01:46
7.	Martine Nield [F]	5:03:33
8.	Heike Godwin [F]	5:04:53
9.	Greg Plier	5:09:39
10.	Bec Howe [F]	5:10:03
11.	Baoping Zhang	5:10:39
12.	Paul Walravens	5:12:55
13.	Andrew Fero-Kovassy	5:13:51
14.	Rohan Day	5:15:37
15.	Jonathan Ennis-King	5:21:59
16.	Joachim Dierckens	5:27:39
17.	David Spencer	5:29:47
18.	Jeffery Wang	5:33:26
19.	Brett Tilley	5:35:38
20.	Jody Daff [F]	5:37:27
21.	Peter Mitchell	5:38:51
22.	Chris Clark	5:40:41
23.	Chris Pittock	5:45:44
24.	Michael Wang	5:50:41
25.	Daniel Bull	5:55:51
26.	Maria Tskouris [F]	6:00:05
26.	Nikki Wynd [F]	6:00:05
26.	John Gullifer	6:00:05
29.	David Talamelli	6:08:32
30.	Yee-Vien Ng [F]	6:13:42
31.	Jackie Goudy [F]	6:22:30
32.	Gavin Ma	6:26:44
33.	Matt Matin	6:28:40
34.	Sean Abrera	6:49:42
35.	Paul Cullen	7:05:39
36.	Glenn Thomas	7:22:56
37.	Frank Palermo	7:22:58

Tuan Le 50km
Karen Champion [F] 42km
Mark Barger 35km
Aidan Rich 34km

Report by Kevin Cassidy

Accentuating the fact that I’m moving well into my 60s, a bit of radio dial twirling had me settling on Magic 1278 as I motored towards Frankston in the early morning darkness. Old fashioned, I know but I definitely enjoyed the dulcet tones of Neil Diamond and Perry Como as I reflected upon a phone call a week earlier from Neil Padley. As a teenager training at Percy Cerutty’s camp in 1965, Neil was challenged to run Frankston to Portsea under five hours.

“On mainly unmade roads and spending sixpence on a drink in Rosebud, I staggered home in 5:02”, he lamented.

“Percy wasn’t impressed and gave me a hell of a serve”

“The run from Frankston was often used as punishment for any athletes that snuck out to Tom Cats Nightclub in Sorrento”, laughed Neil

Courtesy of the Bureau of Meteorology, 41 runners lapped up ideal conditions as they charged off in high spirits bound for Portsea. A couple of notable absentees were Paul Spencer and Jon Lim. In Jon’s case, it spared me disturbing the local search and rescue squad!

Exploding out of the blocks swifter than Usain Bolt was the bare chested Tom Dade who rapidly established a colossal lead. Tom is one of our nation’s premier endurance athletes. A google search will impress you no end.

So astonishingly speedy was Tom, that I scarcely got to see anyone else. I drove hastily to the roundabout just beyond the 20km point to ensure no one undertook an incorrect turn. At this stage, Tom had established a 25 minute lead over the second placed Bryan Lim!

Needing to remain here until the final runner came through, I was genuinely stressing at the prospect of missing Tom’s finish! The bonus, however, was getting to see everyone come through. Leading the women was 19 year old Miah Noble. Aidan Rich was looking relaxed and Bec Howe, as always, had that engaging smile and positive disposition. Greg Plier was also moving well considering he’d knocked out a marathon the previous day.

Just when I was deliberating over the necessity to move on, a familiar dark red car appeared. Yes, Joanna Maidment and her cow bell had arrived to offer appropriate and somewhat rowdy encouragement. Joanna’s presence enabled me to zoom off in search of the lightning quick Tom.

Urgently needing to refuel, I dashed into the Shell servo where the attendant had an adams apple the size of a champagne cork and was chewing a bread roll with his mouth wide open in the noisiest manner possible as I hurried in to pay.

It may be a reflection on my driving habits, but as seems to happen every year, I invariably get lumbered behind a slow witted driver doing 20kph under the limit on the single laned highway!!

In this instance, it was a chubby faced youngster with one of those man bun hairstyles holding up the entire line of traffic in his tiny white Toyota. Still on a mission to locate Tom, steam was coming out my ears. Approaching Rosebud, I quickly grasped the fleeting opportunity to overtake the irksome driver and flicked him a contemptuous glance, which of course achieved nothing.

Tom appeared in my sights near Rye with a tad over 13km to go and I relaxed knowing I now had time up my sleeve. I then made a less than taxing decision to scurry into the local Coles for a large bottle of diet coke only to be confronted with a row of self-serve check outs comprising of a form of technology that totally escapes me. Being adventurous, I made a sloppy and hurried attempt to use one of the wretched machines. Of course I made a complete mess of it and alarm bells were quickly ringing in the most annoying manner possible. You’d have thought I was robbing a bank…..then again, isn’t it usually the banks robbing us? But that’s another story. An eager and helpful young staff member with unimaginable green hair and very tiny bright shoes rapidly came to my rescue.

 “Is it possible to go through a normal checkout and pay cash in the traditional fashion”, I asked quizzically.

Sensing my inability to adapt to the robotic nature of the modern world, she cheerily obliged and I was on my way after thanking her appreciatively.

Parking my ute purposefully at the finish outside the Point Nepean National Park, I unpacked an array of prizes. On offer was an esky full of cold drinks, medals for the first three males and females, a stock of large upmarket blocks of chocolate, a few novelties and a copy of the excellent Percy Cerutty book “Why Die’ for the first across the line. Given there is no entry fee, such things wouldn’t have been possible without some generous donations. Special thanks and a huge shout out to Justin Jeffery, Rohan Day, Michael Eury, Aidan Rich, Gautam Pandey and the Casey Cardinia Masters Athletic Club.

Quietly awaiting the runners arrival, the ambience was suddenly broken by the sound of a raging argument emitting from an approaching vehicle. Or more to the point, one extremely irate female voice was resonating around the entire area from the passenger side window of an ageing Mitsubishi van.

 “You’ve got no f*****g idea at all, have you Trevor?

Presumably, Trevor was the sad faced driver with the flat top haircut that looked like a miniature helipad. He turned and drove back down Point Nepean Road without so much as a murmur while that abominable and detestable screeching female voice echoed through the trees. Throughout it all, I and anyone else within a 5km radius, figured that the unfortunate Trevor, amongst other crimes, had taken a wrong turn. In all sincerity, I hope Trevor finds happiness via a good divorce lawyer. Whoops, I seem to have digressed somewhat.

Soon after, Tom came in to view having slowed in the final stages for a 4:23:36 finish. Byan Lim narrowed the gap to five minute in taking second with Caleb Ha third. Just a few short minutes separated Miah Noble, Martine Nield and Heike Godwin for the women’s placings.

From there, the hordes began rolling in. Andrew Moldrich looked happy with his efforts, Bec Howe was smiling all the way to the end and the contingent from the Australian-Chinese Runners Group in their distinctive orange tops all finished with aplomb upon which they set up a highly intricate picnic lunch. They undoubtedly do things in style. Jonathan Ennis-King recorded his sixth finish to join the most prolific runners list while Rohan Day, resplendent in his board shorts, knocked out his seventh.

David Spencer was buzzing after his 11^th finish. Only Peter Gray has spent more time on this course with 20 runs under his belt.

Matt Matin stormed home comfortably, enjoyed a short break then decided to run the extra 5km down to the point!

Immediately upon finishing, Sean Abrera was seeking advice about everything ultra related. Young and eager to learn, Sean is one to watch in future. The day’s activities concluded when Frank Palermo, in his Captain America outfit, stopped the clock in 7:22:58. Not having had the best of days, he decided against turning around for his usual 110km round trip.

And with that, I packed up and headed home with haste to dish up dinner for a very demanding cat.

We do it all again on April 6 next year. Be there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Frankston to Portsea 55km Run 55km/34 miles

Sunday 5th April 2009

1.	John Keats	3:46:16
2.	Kurt Hourigan	4:24:09
3.	Rohan Day	4:24:56
4.	Robert Hall	4:25:56
5.	Kelvin Marshall	4:32:44
6.	Kazuya Nakatani	4:35:09
7.	Michael Lovric	4:37:41
8.	Cameron Staggard	4:40:26
9.	Tory Trewhitt	4:43:49
10.	Matt McNamara	4:49:03
11.	Carmen Atkinson [F]	4:51:17
12.	Steve Preece	4:54:08
13.	Chris McTaggart	4:54:51
14.	James Clarke	4:56:18
15.	Ngoh Ngoh Nestor [F]	4:56:44
16.	Nic Marie	4:57:33
17.	Robert Boyce	5:01:15
18.	Kevin Lieberthal	5:03:03
19.	Lachlan Fraser	5:12:20
19.	Barry Rosenberg	5:12:20
21.	Katherine Shone [F]	5:13:27
22.	Bruce Hargreaves	5:18:14
23.	Ashley Murdoch	5:18:50
23.	Andrew Wood	5:18:50
25.	Stephen van der Tang	5:23:36
26.	Ali Holmes [F]	5:33:12
27.	Richard McCormick	5:36:12
28.	David Spencer	5:38:38
29.	Kristine Banks-Smith [F]	5:45:14
29.	Paul Baird	5:45:14
31.	Alan Marlow	5:47:38
32.	Phillip Crawford	5:54:36
33.	John Dobson	6:06:10
34.	Kym Williams	6:13:18
35.	Andrew Herman	6:46:35
36.	Brian Glover	6:50:23
37.	Hugh Hunter	7:04:22
38.	Shadi Samir	7:19:20
39.	Ahmed Al Mansoori	8:34:02
40.	Peter Gray	10:23:53

Lauren Lieberthal [F] DNF 50k in 5:36:34
Travis Giansiracusa DNF 42.2k in 3:26:09
Julie Green DNF 42.2k in 3:43:22

Report by Kevin Cassidy

Churches and Town Halls are generally the types of structures that come to mind when the term “Heritage Listed” gets bandied about. Imagine my bemusement when Melbourne’s daily newspaper, the Herald-Sun, reported the recent heritage listing of the building that houses the highly controversial Kitten’s strip club that adorns the very corner in which our race gets underway. Our city leaders never cease to perplex with the decisions they make. This one is right up with the best of them. Exactly what drugs they are popping is anyone’s guess.

Kelvin Marshall amused me a few days prior by inquiring if the run was still going ahead. His trepidation being that I may have fallen victim to an underworld assassination at the hands of the Dean Karnazes fan club. Enough said there, I guess!
Further pre race “hair tearing” involved a computer crash four days prior requiring a lengthy consultation with an Indian help desk. It was 5:30am in New Delhi as the seductively voiced woman took me through the essential steps of regaining my cyberspace access.

12 months ago, in his absence, I thought I would be free of the bag of coins that Max Gibbs insists on handing over as his entry fee each year. Sneakily, Max had worded up Maureen Wilson who then inflicted the same upon me in 2008. A practical joke having grown of my own doing, I can hardly grizzle. 2009 brought on the absence of both Max and Maureen but I was not spared the hefty collection of silver. A box of 10 cent coins arrived on my doorstep a couple of days prior courtesy of the incomparable Maureen. It seems she never forgets. Regardless, her contribution of the bottle of wine for the first female secured her return to the good books, a kindly gesture from a woman whose most distinguished claims to fame include locking her keys in the car, turning up to a run having forgotten her shoes and fitting her bike wheel backwards during a triathlon!! Oh, and did I mention her age group win at the Australian Ironman Triathlon?

Being much better prepared for a bumper crowd this year, I had done everything I could before race day so as to avoid the mad dashes I’ve had to make mid race the last two years. I become a regular at the local “Two Dollar Shop” by buying their complete stock of mirrors on at least four occasions, much to the sniggering bewilderment of the staff. A trip to Woolworths secured a quantity of envelopes and CDs. I then wandered over to a nearby ALDI and stocked up on the traditional blocks of chocolate. I made a less than taxing executive decision to replace the usual Cadbury chocolate with an organic choice brand. Put simply, it was all I could locate in the discount supermarket.

I was thrilled when Wendy Crebbin accepted an invitation to be our “celebrity starter”. Wendy [more often referred to as Pink Lady] was one of our more prominent middle distance runners of her time and trained diligently under Percy Cerutty at Portsea. She still visits Percy’s widow, Nancy, quite frequently. Wendy reports that Nancy is as sharp as a tack and bubbling with life despite her 96 years.

The assembled field had travelled from many points of Australia. Adelaide, Brisbane, The Gold Coast, Launceston, Sydney, Mildura and Warrnambool were all represented in the annual charge down the Mornington Peninsula. Arguably, the lengthiest journey to the start line was made by Lachlan Fraser. Lachlan’s appearance typified the old saying of “You can’t keep a good man down”. Having lost his home and medical practice in the horrific fires that destroyed Marysville, Lachlan’s ability to rebound back to normality has been both heartening and astonishing. As one of the prime movers in the emotional and material reconstruction of his picturesque and beloved town, it was our privilege to hand Lachlan all the entry money to assist with what will undoubtedly be a prolonged process. Mindful of this, many runners gladly pitched in amounts in excess of the standard ten dollar entry. Illness prevented Tony Chow making it to the start, so he snail mailed a cheque for $50. What gentleman and half. All up, we were able to hand over approximately $550 for the benefit of the Marysville community.

The recent popularity of South Africa’s Comrades Marathon amongst Australian runners has been the catalyst for our upsurge in numbers. The time slot on the calendar makes for a perfect lead up.

With a simple “GO”, the delightful Wendy sent the 43 runners on their way from the shadows of the newly listed “Heritage Strip Club”. Embarrassingly, I have the misfortune of living in the same street as the owner of this questionable establishment.
In an instant, Kurt Hourigan and John Keats had bolted ahead establishing a sizeable gap in the first 20 kilometres. Rohan Day was scooting along nicely in his colourful attire matched only by his equally colourful car. Kelvin Marshall was sporting some serious headgear and a thick bushy beard. He did not look dissimilar to Osama Bin Laden on route to an Al Qaeda committee meeting.

Robert Hall, Tory Trewhitt and Michael Lovric all looked content as they settled into the rhythm that would carry them to Portsea.

Crossing the freeway just after the 20 kilometre mark, the highway was sporting a lengthy string of runners. James Clarke, Chris McTaggart, Steve Preece and Cameron Staggard were all within sight of each other. Further back, Kym Williams, David Spencer and Richard McCormick were sensibly pacing themselves. Meanwhile, two long time legends of Australian distance running, John Dobson and Bruce Hargreaves, ran side by side through the first half. John and Bruce are amongst the few to have run all 31 Melbourne Marathons.

Ngoh Ngoh Nestor was leading the women ahead of Carmen Atkinson in what ultimately became an absorbing battle. Katherine Shone and Ali Holmes remained close by and looked threatening.

It was during this section that the ultra world’s spirit of mutual cooperation began beating strongly. Runners without crews were now benefiting from the attention of the crews of their fellow competitors, attention that was given willingly and in the highest of spirits.

Additional assistance to all was the presence and efforts of Steve Hyde, Brett Saxon, Malcolm Gamble and Sandra Stewart. These four selfless individuals turned out of their own accord with a stunning array of drinks and energy inducing snacks which they transported up and down the course keeping the entire field satisfied and smiling. These guys were priceless. They didn’t even ask for any fuel reimbursement! Malcolm added a hefty degree of novelty value by dishing out the Gatorade in cocktail glasses!!
Through Moats Corner and onto the beachside road at Safety Beach, John Keats was flying and looking fresher than a salad roll in a crisper. John was being capably looked after by his good lady wife. Also at Moats Corner were Chris McTaggart’s family, whose vehicle boasts a number plate of “BEFIT”. Two very attractive women in a black BMW were merrily serving up drinks to the seven runners that comprised the “Tribal Team”.

Still chasing hard in second place. Kurt Hourigan was running unassisted, never having previously tackled anything longer than 20 kilometres.

Needing to stay near the front of the field, I basically missed most of the midfield action as the race advanced firmly into the second half along Point Nepean Road with Port Phillip Bay providing a gorgeous aquatic sight for the remaining distance. I learnt later that Ngoh Ngoh Nestor had decided to take a walkabout tour near the 30 kilometre mark by turning left up onto the freeway. Despite losing several minutes, she returned to the correct course still holding onto her lead.

I caught up with the early starting Peter Gray in the vicinity of the 40 kilometre point near Rye as the race leader, John Keats, shot passed the marathon point in 2:45. The inexperienced Kurt Hourigan looked to be out on his feet as a couple of us kept him watered and fed. He struggled through the marathon in 3:07 as Chris McTaggart and Kazuya Nakatani bore down upon him and appearing set to take over the battle for second place.

With the day’s proceedings seemingly under some form of semi control, I pulled into the trendy shopping strip in Blairgowrie for the all important acquisition of some personal sustenance in the form of a cheese and cauliflower pie washed down with a litre and a half of diet coke. Clearly, this kaleidoscope of shops had transformed in recent years to evolve as the local “notice me” area with a hefty percentage of brightly dressed patrons resembling the proverbial mutton dressed as lamb! One ageing woman, in particular, really impressed with her six inches of make up that had clearly been applied with a trowel, eyebrows that would put Tammy Baker to shame, leather pants that appeared to have been rejected by a C grade movie wardrobe and a tiny chihuahua dog clad in a bright pink doggie coat safely tucked under her arm. Her butterfly glasses and rigid hair that refused to move in the wind completed what was an acutely odd looking life form. Regardless, she strolled along the street wearing a facial expression that suggested she thought her name was Paris Hilton. Perhaps she was!!

Needing to get to the Portsea finish with haste, I motored off. In less time than a political backflip, an old rusty van appeared at a side road, drove out in front of me forcing me into a sudden screeching halt and then proceeded down the single lane highway at the pace of a dope smoking tortoise. He was furiously text messaging with one hand and holding both a newspaper and the steering wheel with the other as he drifted across all sections of the road. Traffic quickly piled up behind him. I had a very strong urge to grab him by the neck and squeeze the life out of him. He eventually turned off oblivious to the chaos he had created.

Catching up with the lead at the 50 kilometre mark in Sorrento, I was dumbfounded to see that Kurt had resurrected himself and had pushed on to maintain his second position in a genuinely commendable comeback.

Quickly setting up the finish, which involved the simple task of opening a fold out table, I stopped the watch at 3:46:16 with John Keats producing the fourth fastest time in history. The long journey from Warrnambool had proved fruitful indeed. Kurt Hourigan collapsed across the line to snatch second place in a seriously gutsy performance just holding out Rohan Day and Robert Hall who were separated by a matter of seconds. Kelvin Marshall came home in a course P.B.

“That’s an hour quicker than last year”, beamed a happy Matt McNamara who was amongst the 16 runners to break five hours. The steady pace by Carmen Atkinson paid dividends as she overtook the tiring Ngoh Ngoh Nestor in the final stages to take the women’s prize by a margin of five minutes. Ngoh Ngoh was left pondering the outcome of her wrong turn back in Dromana.

A persistent drizzle set in as the clock ticked beyond five hours, bringing with it a substantial drop in temperature.

Robert Boyce finished steadily. How he managed to survive five hours without the vital updates of the current cricket score remained a mystery. We were all treated to a stunning sprint finish by Lachlan Fraser and Barry Rosenberg that produced a dead heat. In fact, Lachlan appears keen on these close finishes, having done similarly here 12 months ago!

Slowly, finishers were piling into any spare car seats they could find for the return to Frankston as others continued to flow into Portsea. Katherine Shone looked good crossing the line in third place amongst the women while Ashley Murdoch and Andrew Wood came in together.

Stephan van der Tang appeared dissatisfied with his time while Ali Holmes couldn’t stop smiling. Kym Williams and David Spencer came through the field most impressively to record excellent finishes. The happy couple of Paul Baird and Kristine Banks-Smith ran side by side from go to whoa. Peter Gray arrived having set out at 2am in his 232nd ultra in what has been a lengthy and illustrious career. Peter happened upon a pair of pliers on the roadside, a discovery that pleased him no end.

Phillip Crawford and Brian Glover were outstanding examples of consistency, both knocking out almost identical times to 2008.
Ecstatic with his second finish here, Andrew Herman was greeted by his large extended family who celebrated his run in the most excited of fashions!

The majority of runners and crews had long gone as I awaited the arrival of the final two runners, Shadi Samir and Ahmed Al Mansoori. As I waited patiently, an ancient looking Rolls Royce crawled slowly into the finish area. A rather pompous man of advanced years alighted in a manoeuvre that looked more demanding than selling ducted heating units in the Mojave Desert. He stared intently at the large “Point Nepean National Park” sign, turned and gave me one of those judgmental expressions, then inquired “Is this Point Nepean National Park”?, “I doubt that it’s the Grand Canyon”, I fired back not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Climbing back into his ancient jalopy in as equally a lengthy procedure as his original manoeuvre, he putt putted into the car park. His heftily built female passenger would not have looked out of place in a sumo wrestling match.

Shadi finished strongly with a grin of delight while Ahmed plodded into Portsea some time later.

Driving both Shadi and Ahmed back to Frankston, we happened upon a wedding party in Sorrento’s main street. I cracked up laughing as Shadi mumbled “condolences” in his politely toned voice!

Two of the newest faces on the ultra scene, I inquired of their motivation. “We just thought we’d try ultras” replied Shadi as Ahmed nodded enthusiastically in agreement. The Great Ocean Road Marathon looms as their next challenge.

I dropped the two guys at the Frankston railway station and quietly headed home to the company of the ABC radio news.

Apparently, in between abusing airline staff and advising Barack Obama how to do his job, Kevin Rudd is planning a brief visit to Australia.

If the 2010 Frankston to Portsea run appeals to you in anyway, scratch a circle around Sunday April 11th and I’ll see you then.

Runners Comments

49th Frankston to Portsea run 55km/34 miles

18th April 2021

1.	Craig Vickers	4:18:33
2.	Richard Matison	4:30:33
3.	David Spencer	5:05:34
4.	Kathy Macmillan [F]	5:12:36
4.	Amelia Griffith [F]	5:12:36
6.	Rohan Day	5:16:59
7.	Scott Beames	5:24:41
8.	Jackie Goudy [F]	5:43:43
9.	Linda Tucker [F]	6:10:59
10.	Kevin Cassidy	6:20:27
11.	Emma-Rose Maber [F]	6:22:30
12.	Frank Palermo	6:24:30
13.	Maureen Wilson [F]	6:26:49
14.	Julie Frank [F]	6:35:13
15.	Paula Colarusso [F]	6:36:23
15.	Lena McMaster-Smith [F]	6:36:23
17.	Penny Gosling [F]	6:37:24
18.	Billy Dugec	7:14:29
18.	Sindy Zonneveldt [F]	7:14:29
20.	Andy Morrison	7:34:18

Michael Clarke DNF 44km
Justin Jeffery DNF 42.65km

Report by Kevin Cassidy

Having the hinges on my remote controlled garage door fall apart distributing nuts, bolts and springs across the concrete floor wasn’t what I’d planned but that was my dilemma just as I was heading for bed on race eve. Endeavouring to undertake some urgent repairs, I abandoned all attempts as the door proved too weighty to lift on my own. The only positive was that my car was outside at the time. If this had happened at 5am the next morning, I’d have been forced to drag a neighbour out of bed to assist me in desperately lifting the door, an action that would have done little towards the advancement of convivial relations!

Having succumbed to three years of badgering from a couple of underworld rogues in the form of Frank Palermo and Paul Spencer, I actually lined up to run this year despite having retired from ultramarathons umpteen years ago.

A grossly inadequate preparation of two woefully pathetic training runs in the previous fortnight did nothing for my confidence as I joined the chorus of bonhomie amongst my fellow runners mingling on the start line. Kate Ablett [organiser on the day] secured the obligatory start line pic and our journey to the bottom end of the peninsula was underway.

Linking up with the incomparable Maureen Wilson, we were soon subjected to a dose of cow bell ringing in the most unseemly of manners. The culprit, of course, was none other than Joanna Maidment zipping past in her car on route to the airport. I’m praying the bell doesn’t have a return ticket!

Employing a 4.5km run-500 metre walk strategy for the first 15km as we ran together, Maureen then moved ahead leaving me to negotiated that gloomy state of mind that you sink into when a lack of fitness starts to accumulate.

Crossing the freeway just beyond 20km, I was afforded a lengthy view into the horizon of seven runners not overly far ahead. Noting they were all of the female variety, The Eagles rendition of “Take it Easy” started running through my head.

“I was runnin’ down the road”

“Tryin’ to loosen my load”

“I had seven women on my mind”

Pardon my trivial digression there but it did keep me amused for a substantial period of time.

Coming through Dromana beyond half way, two of my racewalking mates had wandered down from their nearby home offering encouragement. It was exciting and uplifting to see Bill and Heather Carr….but I did question the need to be reminded I still had to negotiate another 25km!

The Rosebud shopping strip constantly dishes up comical oddities. An unusual looking guy crossing the road with an “I Love Steve McQueen” T-shirt appeared to be on the high side of 70, which had me pondering if he’d failed to advance beyond that hero worshipping stage we all go through in our teens. He bore as uncanny a resemblance to the Disney character Goofy as was possible without actually being a cartoon dog. Presumably, the woman with him was his wife. She looked strikingly like him but a tad hairier. It was a tragically conspicuous sight indeed. Perhaps they were escapees from a place with high walls.

Still in Rosebud and with my lower back aching, passing “Adam’s Back Chiropractic” struck me as incalculably ironic.

Known widely over the years for getting about in his beaten up old 70s Valiant, Ernie Hartley was unrecognisable when he appeared on the highway near Sorrento in a bright red and exceedingly loud Holden Monaro. No doubt, we’ll see him back running here again in the future.

Rolling into the finish and with my gloomy earlier mood having lifted, I had the satisfaction of knocking over this course for the tenth time, 31 years after my first and 17 years since my ninth.

Long before I’d finished, Craig Vickers was comprehensively victorious in 4:18:33. So swift was he that his cycling crew person was lamenting the struggle to keep pace with him on the hills!

A tad further behind, two of our countries most prominent ultra women, Kathy Macmillan and Amelia Griffith, enjoyed an agreeable day together to share line honours in 5:12:36.

Creating a bit of history, Billy Dugec and Sindy Zonneveldt arrived in tandem in a shade over seven hours becoming the first brother-sister combination to grace this event.

On a personal note, I can’t thank the awesome Kate Ablett enough for taking the reins on the day allowing me the opportunity to run and experience a trip down memory lane, albeit a painful one! It just wouldn’t have been possible without her.

Further thanks and appreciation to Anja Ahale for lending me a fancy looking multi faceted vest/squeeze bottle/bladder thing-a-me-bob! The equipment available to the modern day runners has certainly made some immense and ingenious advancements on the primitive gear we endured in the 80s and 90s.

Also, a hefty shout out to Michael “Clarkie” Clarke for securing a fine array of chocolates at a bargain basement price allowing all finishers to choose their favourites.

“I’ve never heard of a Caramilk”, I mumbled to Kate in a state of puzzlement as I made my indiscriminate selection.

“You don’t get out much do you Kev?, Caramilks are everywhere” She replied quite dumbfounded!

And with that, I joined Andy Morrison in Kate’s car for the uneventful drive back to Frankston.

The 50^th anniversary run happens on April 10 next year where I can guarantee I’ll be back holding the traditional clipboard and journeying down the peninsula in the comfort of my car seat!

As for the immediate future, I need to organise an expensive repair for my bloody garage door before the day is out. GRRRR.

 

 

Frankston to Portsea 55km Run 55km/34 miles

Sunday 6th December 2020

1.	Michael Clarke	4:29:42
2.	Richard Matison	4:50:50
3.	Rohan Day	4:57:39
4.	Tracy Feiner [F]	5:06:54
5.	David Spencer	5:12:49
6.	Gerry Sheridan	5:17:53
7.	Greg Plier	5:18:58
8.	Michael Mellech	5:20:32
9.	Jackie Goudy [F]	5:21:59
10.	Bryce Angell	5:23:38
11.	Justin Jeffery	5:26:16
12.	Paul Spencer	5:35:53
13.	Jody Daff [F]	5:43:20
14.	David Talamelli	5:54:23
15.	Andre Schertel	6:14:40
16.	Brad Ryan	6:27:01
17.	Anne Ziogos [F]	6:35:35
17.	Maureen Wilson [F]	6:35:35
19.	Frank Palermo	6:45:25
20.	Jon Lim	6:57:55
21.	George Thomas	7:40:45

Report by Kevin Cassidy

Pardon the interlude but we’re only eight months late in what has been a seriously weird year. Courtesy of an illness doing a rapid circumnavigation of the globe along with a raft of bemusing and idiotic rules from our state government that seemed to change with a similar frequency to a babies nappy, our regular April timeslot was subject to numerous and confusing date adjustments. I’ve no doubt that Victoria’s COVID rules were designed by the Seven Dwarves with Dopey holding down the position of “Chief Consultant” alongside Sergeant Schultz as his deputy.

With sporting events finally getting the green light, it was predictable that a large volume of races would be piled upon each other in the concluding weeks of the year.  A kaleidoscope of ultramarathon events across the country all fell on the same weekend. The previous day saw the inaugural Mornington to Portsea marathon and shorter options [originally planned for July] on basically our same course while the Surf Coast Century 100km took place on the other side of the bay. My overwhelming fear of a December date was striking an uncomfortably hot day. Such fears were quickly dispelled. The cold howling gale that would be punching into runners faces the entire way was probably more wintery than any April days I can remember. Conditions closely resembled 2018 when we were almost blown off the face of the earth!

Two trains of thought were running through my mind as I motored down the Frankston freeway in the dark small hours dodging a slow moving camper van weaving across both lanes of the carriageway. Either a small field due to the numerous clashing events or a large turnout of frustrated runners grabbing the first opportunity in many months to run in an actual race.

The day started “promisingly” for me as I turned into our regular meeting point in the carpark behind The Deck nightclub. “SPLAT”, a meaty size insect decided to distribute all its internal organs across my windscreen!

By 6am, nineteen runners had gathered and were quickly underway, passing all the pleasant dozing houses on Olivers Hill. Amongst the field were a couple of royal guests in Mr Two Bays himself, Rohan Day and Victorian Ultra Runners Grand Poobah, Jon Lim.

Up ahead was Andre Schertel having made a 3:50am start while the incomparable Justin Jeffery sent a quick text saying he had slept in and would be starting about 30 minutes late!!

Heading towards Mornington, runners had stretched out into their natural order with Rohan Day, Michael Clarke and Richard Matison rapidly breaking away. Not overly far behind was David Spencer and my racewalking training buddy, Tracy Feiner making her ultrarunning debut. Most would be unaware that Tracy is the current Australian 50km racewalking champion.

With the pointy end of the field approaching 20km, I spun my ute around to check the progress of those further back. George Thomas was bowling along cheerily. Jody Daff looked comfortable as did Greg Plier and Paul Spencer. Paul and brother David have somewhat of a rivalry on the “most prolific runners” list. David clocking up his eighth run here to Paul’s seven!

Anne Ziogos and Maureen Wilson had paired up and appeared to be in an agreeable mood. Maureen is well known as a member of the coaching staff at the Saint Kilda Football Club and zooms around town in a 70s model Datsun!

The sleep deprived Justin Jeffery eventually surfaced and was quickly reeling in several others in the most commanding of fashions. Not content with a 25 minute delay, Justin run almost a kilometre before it dawned on him that he hadn’t set his watch! He turned around, ran back and started again! This time his watch was tick tick ticking !

Musing over the brand of the traditional finishers chocolate for 2020, I made the all important executive decision to purchase Freddo Frogs and promptly ambled into the Dromana Coles. Disinclined to wait behind a slow moving checkout queue, I made haste to the self serve area promptly making a mess of the electronic process. Modern technology and myself have never been a particularly good combination. Looking across to a nearby employee for assistance, I failed to get the attention of a rather rotund woman deep in conversation with another equally proportioned employee. I tuned in as she launched into a candid list of her poor husbands shortcomings, which were manifest to say the least. Craig [apparently that was his name] sounded like the most moronic man on earth. And on top of that, he was married to a woman who was loud mouthed, indiscreet and had a bum the size of a bus wheel. Watching her walk, she resembled a large moving bowl of jelly. God sure hadn’t blessed Craig with much in life. I really felt for the guy!

Further excitement followed as I attempted to escape the Coles car park only to be confronted with a cumbersome looking motorhome blocking the entire entrance. It was impossible to get past it.  Sitting in the drivers seat was the most unusual man. Long ratty hair and what looked to be a series of warts across his forehead. He quite seriously looked like a genetic experiment gone wrong. Pausing and wondering if I should risk my life by asking him to move, I was heartily relieved when the giant metal jalopy lurched forward and disappeared down the road.

The rhythmic swish of the pounding waves provided some lively interest and visual stimulation as the course moved onto the coast road through McCrae in the second half. The buffeting wind made it impossible to hold a straight line. I really felt for the runners.

At this point, Kate and Tim Ablett made a grand appearance and stuck with the run to the finish assisting Rohan and Clarkie. Kate even managed to raise the ire of a Portsea local later in the day with her decidedly proficient method of parking her large ute!

Soon after, Joanna Maidment graced us all with her royal presence then proceeded to zoom up and down the highway in her little red automobile tooting at random runners and making a spectacle of herself with the constant ringing of a substantially sized cow bell. I was out of ear shot most of the time, a fact for which I gave silent thanks.

Passing the marathon point at the Rye Pier, the three leaders were still within metres of each other and digging hard for all they were worth. The focus on their faces was unmistakable. Soon after, the immeasurable talent of Michael Clarke took over. Applying the afterburners, he powered away.

I made a beeline to the finish to meet the early starting Andre Schertel as he completed his run in a shade over six hours. Moments later, a dark Falcon ute appeared. “ Fancy Seein’ You Here” exclaimed Chris O’Brien from the comfort of the drivers seat. Chris is a two-time winner here and was keen to take in the proceedings.

Storming to a huge victory in 4:29:42, Clarkie had blown away all and sundry. Twenty minutes elapsed before the remainder of the field began to arrive having negotiated the rolling hills through Sorrento’s multi million dollar cliff top properties. Richard Matison finished with a smile followed by Rohan Day who promptly flaked in the middle of the traffic island at the national park entrance. Content to stay there for a while, he looked for all the world as if he’d been the victim of a hit and run! The shocked reaction from some of the arriving tourist crowd was amusing to say the least.

Clearly the most impressive was Tracy Feiner. Overtaking David Spencer in the final stages, she crossed the line in a notably slick time of a tad over five hours to the applause of her substantial entourage. It appeared like her entire extended family had turned out in support. Topping the podium in her first ultra. Does it get any better?

Peering back down the road, the horde began arriving in quick succession. Gerry Sheridan, Greg Plier, Michael Mellech, Jackie Goudy, Bryce Angell and Justin Jeffery were all within minutes of each other. Also under six hours were Paul Spencer, Jody Daff and David Talamelli.

Copious amounts of excited chatter was the order of the day between finished runners and various support crews. Soon after, Brad Ryan crossed the line with a grin not far ahead of the gruesome twosome, Anne Ziogos and Maureen Wilson. Next in was Frank Palermo who didn’t have the quickest of days. Following soon after was the directionally challenged Jon Lim. Jon decided to add a few kilometres to his journey by taking a detour onto the freeway in the early stages!  George Thomas was our final runner crossing the line in the middle of a rather short but somewhat drenching and annoying rain burst. Thanks for that impeccable timing, George!

Twenty one starters and twenty one finishers. All went home with the traditional chocolate and a fancy looking poster, courtesy of Rohan Day’s artistic flare and unique design skills.

As always, awaiting runners at the finish provides me with the entertainment of all those slow moving confused looking tourists arriving at the national park.  In particular, one looked like a human equivalent of Fred Flinstone but with much less charm. “Ay Mate”, he yelled from the seat of his ageing VW beetle, “Is this the Point Nepean National Park?”.  “I’m guessing it is”, I mumbled in return while pointing to the unmistakable large sign that conveys that very information! And then there was the monumentally thin woman with bright pink hair driving a red Mini Minor. Honestly, she would not have looked out of place sitting on a perch in a birdcage.

Ultra runners are often the butt of jokes in reference to their mental acuity or lack thereof. Taking this to dizzy new heights, Frank Palermo and Bryce Angell ran the inaugural Mornington to Portsea marathon the day prior for a 97km weekend! Make of that what you will.

My journey home was the perfect catalyst to enjoy some splendid isolation and contemplation. Sadly, the peace was abruptly interrupted by that seriously demented radio ad…HELLO….FRANK WALKER FROM NATIONAL TILES. Has there ever been a more irksome individual than Frank Walker?

Returning to our traditional time slot while avoiding Easter and the school holidays, the 2021 run is scheduled for April 18.

47th Annual Frankston to Portsea Road Race 55km/34 miles

Sunday April 7th 2019
 

 

1.	Chris O’Brien	4:23:09
2.	Amelia Griffith [F]	5:01:57
3.	Jonathan Ennis-King	5:02:42
4.	Kate Atkinson [F]	5:32:28
5.	Frank Palermo	5:43:29
6.	Adam Needham	5:54:04
7.	Paul Spencer	5:55:32
8.	Gabor Jakus	5:57:57
9.	Anne Ziogos [F]	5:59:52
10.	Darren Colvin	6:01:06
11.	Peter Gray	13:25:55
	Maureen MacDonald [F]	50km Approx

Race Report by Kevin Cassidy

Sadly, Boy George’s Karma Chameleon was all I stumbled upon from some early morning dial twirling of the car radio as I motored down the freeway to Frankston for yet another edition of this long-term event. The low-lying fog among the surrounding paddocks served as a less than subtle reminder of the rapidly approaching winter.

With Paul Spencer and Peter Gray already on the road having made early starts, a gathering of eleven runners assembled in our regular car park meeting place and were soon on their Portsea bound journeys down the Nepean Highway in perfect conditions.

From the outset, Chris O’Brien established a sizeable lead over the happy trio of Amelia “Griffo” Griffith, Gabor Jakus and Frank Palermo. 55km wasn’t adequate for Frank whose intentions were to run back to Frankston for a 110km round trip just as he’d done the previous two years.

Rapidly establishing herself as one of the nation’s best, the incomparable Griffo was backing up from her jaw-dropping performance at the recent W.E.S.T 200 mile trail race in WA.

Jonathan Ennis-King was another hard nut. Barely two weeks since smashing the grueling Northburn 100 mile trail race in the land of the long white cloud [and lots of sheep and kiwis!!], here he was seeking additional punishment.
Kate Atkinson and Adam Needham settled into a rhythmic procession behind Jonathan while the rear was being brought up by Anne Ziogos, Darren Colvin and Maureen MacDonald.

As the bulk of the field advanced beyond 20km, I pulled into the local Caltex for the all-important purchase of the traditional chocolate. I had lofty ideas of presenting “Bertie Beatles” to all the finishers but ultimately my scrooge like spirit came to the fore in the form of $1:20 “Golden Roughs”. Only finding nine on the shelf, I had to snaffle a few supplementary “Mint Patties”! Both were childhood favourites but somewhat mournfully, I have to report that they’ve become increasingly anorexic over the years. They’re barely half the size of what I remember as a kid.

Chris continued to build upon his colossal lead through the second half when who should I find on the roadside in Dromana cheering on the runners? None other than Joanna Maidment and her fluffy black dog. One was walking out front with his nose in the air while the other was at the rear with a plastic bag picking up the poo!! Decide yourselves who the intelligent life form is but the hilarity was not lost upon me.

Everything was running smoothly so a desperately needed infusion of Diet Coke from the Shell service station was paramount in my mind. Now if I may digress somewhat, there was a time in my younger years when the basic purchase of a soft drink required nothing more than handing over some cash and receiving some change in a transaction that I would imagine averaged six to nine seconds. In 2019, such an action is far more complex.

“Just This Drink, Thanks Mate” was the catalyst that sent the lively young kid behind the counter into a frenzy of computer screen tapping. By my estimates, he belted the screen no fewer than 95 times before I could escape.
Modern technology does NOT make our lives easier, its only purpose is to complicate and frustrate our existence upon earth!

Continuing down the highway beyond 35km, negotiating the crowds at the Rosebud markets kept everyone on their toes. Chris had long since gone through, Gabor was slowing, Kate was moving though the field and Jonathan and Griffo had linked up. These two were in good spirits and really powering along.

Tracking down Chris and the early starting Paul in Sorrento, I dashed into the local supermarket for a couple of bananas. Again, modern technology conspired against me when an ample sized woman with a laden trolley and three kids in tow decided the main doorway was the appropriate place to prop while answering her mobile phone. There she stood like the Rock of Gibraltar disrupting the peace with her annoying and loud nattering. It was impossible for anyone to enter or exit. I paused momentarily thinking she would move aside but her obvious intent was on setting up camp. My only option was to inflict an “accidental” bump to her shoulder followed by a Julie Bishop type glare. I hoped the message registered with her but I seriously doubt it.

Arriving at the finish, Chris crossed the line victoriously just as he had done in 2015. Paul crossed moments later for his sixth finish.

In they rolled, Griffo a tad over five hours, Jonathan a minute further back, Kate arrived with a satisfied smile just ahead of Frank. Quickly topping up his drink bottles, Frank embarked on his return journey.

Adam looked tired but happy while Gabor arrived swearing “Never Again”.

Our next arrival was Peter Gray. Having set out at 11pm the previous night, he has conquered this course an astonishing 19 times.

Maureen was our only DNF with Anne and Darren coming in around 1pm for what was by far the earliest finish for many years, so much so that I had time to get back to the city for the Melbourne Storm v Canterbury Bulldogs rugby league game, a prospect I thought impossible earlier that morning.

Later that night, Facebook informed us that Frank had arrived back in Frankston having spent over 15 hours on the road.

We return for the 48th year on April 5th 2020 where the tradition will stretch on.

 

Frankston to Portsea 2018

46th Annual Frankston to Portsea Road Race 55km/34 miles

Sunday April 15th 2018
 

 

1.	Dan Langelaan	4:33:52
2.	Justin Jeffery	5:17:21
3.	Jonathan Ennis-King	5:22:59
4.	Frank Palermo	5:23:31
5.	Serena Wooldrige [F]	5:26:33
6.	Paul Spencer	5:45:41
6.	David Spencer	5:45:41
8.	Peter Zienau	6:05:48
9.	Amanda Lacey [F]	6:22:23
9.	Connie Schroeder [F]	6:22:23
11.	Claire Galbraith [F]	7:13:01
11.	Mark Barger	7:13:01
13.	Peter Gray	19:34:30
	Brian Jones	30km Approx

Race Report by Kevin Cassidy

Having spoiled us with ideal weather all week, Mother Nature turned decidedly ugly for our annual jaunt down the peninsula in a temper tantrum that offered no respite for the entire day.

Fifteen minutes prior to the start, only three runners were milling around in the car park. So strong was the wind that I could not stand in the one place. The surf angrily pounded in from the bay opposite the highway while the goalposts at the nearby football ground were bending and swaying so savagely that I feared they would snap in half at any minute.

In my 29 year association with this run, I’ve never seen the wind behave with such fury. Add the biting cold, constant drizzle and occasional heavy downpour and you have the recipe for complete misery.

Assuming that the weather had kept runners away, you have to imagine my delight when numerous arrivals crammed into the dimly lit car park in the ten minutes before we kicked off.

I had nothing but the utmost admiration for the twelve runners as they hit the road, each knowing full well that they’d be punching head first into the howling wind for the entire run. A less than pleasant day at the office lay ahead with any plans for PBs being duly dispatched to the “some other day” file!

As the runners disappeared from view, I made haste to the nearby Caltex to engage in the purchase of the traditional chocolate for each finisher and secure some life inducing bananas and diet coke for my good self. Having handed out Caramello Koalas last year, I decided upon Freddo Frogs for the simple reason that they were on special at a dollar each! Apologies for my cheapskate manner there but I viewed this as a financial masterstroke on my behalf!

Motoring down the road, I started catching runners around the 9km mark. By the time I reached Dan Langelaan at the head of the field, I had only counted nine runners! I turned back and stumbled upon Paul and David Spencer. Apparently the toilets inside McDonalds were being put to good use as I whizzed by. Heading back up the highway, I started my head count again fully expecting to find all twelve individuals. Now I’m well aware that my memory isn’t what it used to be and perhaps my glasses could do with an update, but I thought I was dreaming when I counted thirteen runners stretched out along the course when my list contained just twelve names! I drove back and forth twice more in a mixed state of both bemusement and confusion. Ultimately, I had to pull over and start asking passing runners for their names. I quickly discovered that Brian Jones had been on the start line but neglected to announce his presence.

Relieved to learn that I wasn’t going completely mad, I headed back down the highway to the sound of the rhythmic swish of my windscreen wipers where Dan Langelaan had gone through half way with a huge lead over Justin Jeffery and Frank Palermo. Serena Wooldrige was comfortably leading the women while the middle of the field was made up of Jonathan Ennis-King, Peter Zienau, the Spencer brothers [Paul and David] and the dynamic duo of Amanda Lacey and Connie Schroeder. Progressing handsomely at the rear of the field were Claire Galbraith and Mark Barger.

Most runners were familiar with the course but I felt a responsibility to stay close to the two first timers at the few points that had the potential to induce a wrong turn. This proved to be quite a taxing task given that the two were at opposite ends of the field.

Driving through Rosebud, I caught up with Peter Gray for the first and only time. Peter’s quicker runs are behind him these days but he soldiers on regardless and had set out at 2:30am.

Motoring on further, it quickly became apparent that I was going to have to abandon the middle of the field. Dan was miles ahead and closing in on Portsea in the most lively of fashions. He had great incentive, of course, with orders from his long suffering wife to be finished by noon so they could get to their young son’s football game. Being a good husband and dad, Dan kept his end of the bargain by duly storming to the finish in 4:33:52 to the cheers of his family.

One by one, finishers started rolling in at the end of Point Nepean Road to receive their ceremonial Freddo Frogs. Justin Jeffery was steady all day in second while Jonathan Ennis-King motored efficiently through the field in the later stages to snare third place.

Frank finished just behind Jonathan then, just as he did last year, spun around for a solo return trip to Frankston! Serena finished soon after to claim line honours amongst the women.

In what I believe is the first example of brothers in this event, Paul and David Spencer finished together. For David, he notched his seventh finish after a nine year absence.

Waiting alone for arriving runners provides me with the most inane form of entertainment year after year. Befuddled drivers of questionable mental acuity slow to a stop as the road draws to an end, look at you with complete confusion then motor off back in the direction they arrived at the speed of a dope smoking snail. Highlighting my lengthy waiting period was a female motorist asking for directions. A formidable woman of ample proportions, she was decked out in a rather enthralling large hat and looked like she’d won numerous world championships for sumo wrestling. Sadly she didn’t understand a word of English which made for a somewhat animated conversation.

A shade over seven hours was on the clock when our final two runners [apart from Peter Gray] completed their journeys. Handing over the last of my Freddo Frogs, I mused as to what brand of chocolate I could offer next year. I was favouring the culinary delights of Kit Kats only to have a request put to me for Mars Bars. I guess we’ll see what 2019 brings.

Just one DNF was recorded. Given the arduous weather conditions, I dip my hat to a seriously focused and resilient group of ultra nuts that made mince meat of such hardship.

I’d long since curled up in bed when news came through that Frank Palermo had completed his return journey at 11:35pm for a 110km round trip in a tad over 16 hours while Peter Gray had reached the Portsea finish in solitary darkness around 10pm having spent close to 20 hours on the course. Peter now has an amazing 18 finishes here.

Circle April 7th on the calendar next year when we’ll do it all again in edition 47.

 

Frankston To Portsea 2016

44th Annual Frankston to Portsea Road Race 55km/34 miles

Sunday April 3rd 2016

By Kevin Cassidy

 

1.	Cameron Hall	4:30:02
1.	Mike Manders	4:30:02
3.	Tim Kenington	4:59:52
4.	Richard Matison	5:03:49
5.	Gabor Jakus	5:08:25
6.	Frank Palermo	6:04:19
7.	Paul Spencer	6:07:42
8.	Jon Lim	6:18:32
9.	Brian Glover	7:15:19
10.	Peter Gray	11:30:47

 

Report by Kevin Cassidy

Having frequented the area for most of my adult life, there was really no excuse other than my own muddle headedness for driving several kilometres past Frankston before it dawned on me that I had motored much further than I should have. With ample time up my sleeve, I was able to double back without being late.

A few heads had already started to gather as I pulled into our regular meeting spot in the car park behind “The Deck” nightclub.

By 7am, nine runners responded to my mumbled word of “Go” and the 44^th edition of this long standing tradition was underway.

Tim Kenington established a commanding lead which he held for the first 40km. Richard Matison, who had been lurking for some time, then pounced. His lead was short lived as Mike Manders and Cameron Hall overtook both Richard and Tim with an excellent display of consistent and well-judged running. Mike and Cameron stuck together all the way to the finish to be declared joint winners.

Other highlights included Brian Glover looking much more orange than usual. A new outfit seemed to dazzle like never before.

Frankie Palermo was also up for the challenge by attempting a 110km round trip back to Frankston. Ultimately he called it a day at the Rosebud caravan park having clocked up 73km.

Runners were also treated to the support and encouragement of Kate “Mumma Two Bays” Ablett as they chugged and charged past the Dromana Information Centre.

In the main, the day ran smoothly with the exception being my slight detour to indulge in a life inducing Diet Coke at a nearby shop. Hoping to dash in and out quickly, I got seriously delayed behind a rather rotund woman buying up a huge stock of magazines. With my patience rapidly diminishing, I stood behind her in an agitated state as she purchased the Women’s Weekly, Cleo, Cosmopolitan, New Idea, Who Weekly and numerous other versions of the trashiest women’s magazines you could imagine.

Finally escaping and needing to dash down the highway to the finish, I found myself putt-putting along behind a hat-wearing grandpa in a rusty blue 70s model Volvo. Steam was pouring out my ears by then.

It all happens again in 2017 on April 2.

Check out all the details at www.frankstontoportsea.com.au