Frankston to Portsea 55km Run 55km/34 miles
30th March 1996
| 1. | Kevin Cassidy* | 4:44:44 |
*No one else turned up!!!!
Race Report by Kevin Cassidy
This race is probably Australia’s longest running ultra, having been first run in about 1973. It has always been a low key event [Someone says “go” and you make your way to the finish] averaging 10-12 starters. This year, however, was to be as low key as you could get when I was the one and only starter.
The Peninsula Road Runners had left it too late to include the date in “Ultramag’ and family and injury reasons kept the regular Peninsula runners from turning up. I was not surprised to be sitting in the early morning darkness of the Davey St. car park waiting for someone to arrive. Soon after, Ross Shilston appeared and said “I think you’re it” So off I went with Ross running the first few miles with me before heading home for breakfast. Ross promised to meet me at the finish. “Allow me about 5 hours”, I said as he disappeared.
As far as road races go, this is a fairly tough course, but it is varied and interesting. The first half is continual undulations with a few long climbs as it takes you through Mornington and some of the rural parts of the Peninsula. The second half takes you onto the flat beach road through the many beachside towns on a road that is both narrow and busy. I was constantly jumping into the gravel to avoid the traffic. I went past the marathon point at the Rye Pier where a large fellow was yelling at his dog as it hid under some bushes with its tail between its legs. The road starts undulating again at this point and the surrounding vegetation changes as you get closer to the end of the peninsula. With about 7km to go, I climbed up the road past the Early Settlers’ Graves when Ross re-appeared. He told me I was too young to be an early settler so I would just have to keep running.
On I went, through the picturesque town of Sorrento where I glanced over at the Aquarium Seaside Cafe and looked forward to the lunch I would be eating there in about an hours time. The undulations continued through the million dollar homes to the Portsea Gates where I stopped the clock at 4:44:44 in my 44th ultra [there must be an omen there somewhere].
Ross handed me the traditional block of chocolate and promised me a certificate [I am still waiting!!]
Later in the day, I received a phone call from the incomparable Peter Armistead. “Congratulations on your fine win”, he said sarcastically. “They tell me you defeated a crack field”, he laughed.