Frankston to Portsea 55km Run 55km/34 miles
18th April 1999
| 1. | Tracey Macaw [F] | 4:15:00 |
| 2. | Max Gibbs | 4:24:28 |
| 3. | John Harper | 5:00:27 |
| 4. | Geoff Hook | 5:36:53 |
| 5. | Geoff Rodgers | 5:42:00 |
Kevin Cassidy D.N.F.
Peter Nelson D.N.F.
Continuing The Tradition – Contributed by: Kevin Cassidy
This low key, self help, do as you please run got underway in ideal running conditions and boasting a bigger field than we have seen for several years with a grand total of seven runners in the 27th edition of this event since 1973. Max Gibbs had things looking half professional when the normal one page of instructions had been increased to three along with a 150% increase in the entry fee [from two dollars up to five] “That’s for a bottle of wine for the winner” he laughed.
At approximately 7am our illustrious race director, Ross Shilston, said GO and we shuffled off from the Davey Street corner in the direction of Portsea to the applause of our send off committee which consisted of the old sea dog himself, Peter Armistead. It was a privilege to have 22 year old Tracey Macaw [nee Newton] amongst the field, the pint sized Tracey is a real pocket rocket having won the 1997 Melbourne Marathon as well as representing Australia. Also joining the runners were a group of youngsters out for a training run, they promised to stick with the field but quickly took off like rabbits and we didn’t see them again until they came back the other way after 10 km or so.
I was moving along ok during the early stages of what is my favourite ultra and I was taking in all the scenery as the autumn leaves scattered across the highway, there were loads of cyclists out training and a continuing stream of restored vintage cars were parading back and forth along the road. After enjoying the undulations during the first half, the course takes us onto the beach road and we get to admire the bay for the rest of the course, it was at this stage that Ross came driving passed and assured me that I could now swim to the finish if I was so inclined.
I plodded on through 30km and I was fast realising that the niggling aches and pains that have plagued me over the last 18 months were only getting worse and worse. My aching back soon reduced me to a hunched over stagger and John Harper came charging by me looking confident and strong. I finally dragged myself to the 42km point at the Dundas Street intersection at Rye and hobbled across the highway into the Mobil service station where I grabbed a Diet Coke and slumped across a pine log fence. I finally had to face the fact that, after 14 years of ultras, my body just can’t do these things any more. As the Sunday morning traffic drove obliviously by, I sat for about 10 minutes sucking on my drink and holding back the tears as I cast my mind back over all the highs and lows since 1985. I guess it all ends right here in the gutter of the Nepean Highway, I think my future involvement with ultras will be reduced to handing out drinks and checking stop watches and if I am ever asked “Aren’t you Kevin Cassidy?” I will be able to reply “No, but I used to be”
With the race still in Progress, I quickly came to my senses and composed myself. With the finish being at the gates to a national park it is always difficult to negotiate the last few hundred metres, this requires tired runners to get through large groups of tourists who wander about aimlessly with vacant expressions on their faces.
As this is a self help event, it always results in a number of amusing personal incidents and each runner that crossed the line had a funny story to tell. Although not finishing, Peter Nelson arrived at the gates in the local bus and reported that he DID manage to stay on course this year. Tracey recorded a stunning win over we mere males but it was not without incident, Cynthia [Tracey’s mum] was walking with Tracey giving her a drink when kind and considerate Peter [Cynthia’s brother] drove up to them so Cynthia didn’t have to walk back to the car and, in doing so, ran over Cynthia’s freshly poured cup of tea!
Max was only 500 metres from the finish when a lost motor cyclist pulled up beside him to ask for directions. With a full faced helmet on, all poor Max could hear was muffle muffle muffle hhmmffff hhmmffff !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!.
John Harper was a man on a mission and had gone out the previous night to plant drink bottles along the course, I guess it is lucky for John that this race doesn’t coincide with “Clean up Australia day”. Geoff Hook was happily plodding down the highway when race director Ross drove by to see how he was going. Grasping the opportunity, Hookie conned Ross into lending him 10 dollars which had poor Ross worrying because they were approaching a winery. Ross later claimed that Hookie paid him back with a counterfeit note.
With first timer, Geoff Rodgers, approaching the finish, the best story was about to be told. Geoff had taken a wrong turn at 20km and ended up on the Peninsula Freeway. Pretty soon the police, with sirens blaring, had pulled up and Geoff, oblivious to his wrong turn, insisted that there were several runners up ahead. The police then took off after the “other runners” and Geoff continued along the freeway before rejoining the correct course at the next ramp. Geoff remained ignorant of his wrong turn until Ross drove up to him in Dromana and listened to his “police story”. I had visions of the police spending all day roaring up and down the freeway in fruitless search for the “other runners”.
With another Frankston to Portsea event completed, the Portsea area was becoming quite crowded as people were arriving to watch the start of the Melbourne to Osaka [Japan] yacht race.
Next years event has a tentative date of Sunday the 9th April