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.