Frankston to Portsea 2019

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

Sunday April 7th 2019
 

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.