by Explorer_Sam » Fri 20 Dec, 2013 6:51 pm
Thank you so much everyone for your advice, your donations, and to Terra for the boost on your Fb page! The advice was very handy, I apologise for not getting back to everyone sooner. Thank you so much everyone. Below is the story:
On the 23rd and 24th of September, we took on the huge challenge of attempting to walk 100 kms in 24 hours or less.
We started well, setting off at a good pace and only taking short breaks every here and there to refill water bottles and stash up on foods like scroggin (fruit nuts and (for us) dark chocolate).
20 kilometres went by and we were feeling very fresh and our legs were barely beginning to hurt. We made it to the most scenic part of the journey at Nimmon's Bridge, and while stopping for a break were privileged to make a friend in a 3-legged dog. This was inspirational for us and lifted our spirits a lot. What we didn't know, was that the next section was the largest for the whole walk, with about 8 kms without a break. This jumped us, and hit us quite hard, and by the end of it, our spirits had been beaten and our morale damaged.
Our legs were aching as we walked through the open countryside, trying our best to drown out the pain. We were always thankful to find the support car waiting on the side of the road at our next break. This meant food, water, treatment for injuries and the friendly support crew to keep us motivated. Our feet were beginning to blister, Riley's in particular, was quite a *&%$#! mess and required bandaging.
Darkness was descending slowly as we approached the 50 km mark and dinner time at a nice bush location. We had chicken schnitzel burgers and kebabs, kindly prepared by Cait of the support crew. Spirits were high as we sat and chatted over dinner, but silently, I think we were all nervous for what was to come.
The next section after dinner seemed to drag on forever, but we pushed through it, headtorches beaming into the dark night. I would have a small celebration in my head whenever we came across a Ballarat-Skipton Rail Trail marker, indicating how many kilometres to Skipton. These were placed a kilometre apart and every one meant a kilometre closer to success and freedom from this pain.
As we walked through the night on one section, the team was separated into two small groups, which I will admit now was my fault. I was walking away from the pain, speeding ahead into the darkness. Jackson caught me up and we had a good discussion about everything, which left us both refreshed and inspired. While we were chatting though, we were also in a great deal of pain, our bodies were aching and we were skipping, jogging, or trying anything to ease the pain. Whenever we looked around, we would see the dim lights from our teammates' headtorches. Every time we turned our heads, they would fade further into the distance. We would wait every now and then for a few moments to shorten the gap between the two groups. This was poor leadership on my behalf and I will make an effort in future not to let such a thing happen on my ventures.
As we walked through a field approaching Skipton, we heard a noise just over the rise which spooked us and we ran the rest of the way to Skipton, our turnaround point. Half-way. Now we were walking back towards Ballarat, where we began this journey around 10 hours ago. We had my Dad walk with us for this section, and a few others, one of the reasons was because of the noise we heard on this section 15 minutes ago.
Our bodies were in agony and our breaks became longer, meaning we would lose more time. We jumped on any opportunity for a leg massage, which provided temporary relief from the pain, but caused agony once we began walking again. We were at around 60 kms, and our bodies were deteriorating fast, beginning to cramp, and painful chafe between the butt cheeks and in other places was niggling at me. We almost stood on what looked to be a juvenile copperhead, which appeared to be numb and slow-moving from the cold conditions. This made us believe that Johno's reports of standing on a snake earlier, could have in-fact been valid. On this walk, other wildlife we saw included Possums, Kangaroos, Wallabies, Huntsman Spiders and much more.
I was walking very fast, flying through the sections, but really, this was not sustainable. I was walking away from the pain. It was almost unbearable, and I was even jogging at times, trying to put pressure on other parts of my legs and body, to ease the pressure on the worn out parts, like my anterior cruciate ligament, which was cramping painfully, and my knees were almost at the point of collapsing.
Then came the time when we had to make the tough decision to end the walk, unfinished. We figured our options were to either push on through the pain (risking serious or permanent injury), or to call it quits. The first option was barely valid, as we were at the point we could almost physically go no further, and it would only be so long before our legs shut down completely. The decision to quit was so easy, yet so difficult. It broke my heart to end the walk, but deep down, I knew it was the right choice, as there was no point in risking long-term damage to our bodies, and I didn't want to ruin all the adventures I hope to do in future. Sometimes the tough decision has to be made, where you must accept failure at the time, but in the long-run, you will be better off because of it and that is the most important thing.
When we ended the walk, we had been on the move for around 17 hours. It had all happened so quickly, and so painfully. We had walked 75 kilometres in that time! Three-quarters of the distance in just over two-thirds of the time.
We would eventually get home where our crowd on Facebook would drown out our disappointment with praise and everything we had achieved would hit us in the face. I know we are all truly so proud of ourselves for what we achieved on the walk, but more importantly, the money we raised for the great work of Autism Awareness. We raised over $3300! I will always be proud of our fundraising efforts. We put ourselves through pain to benefit those less-fortunate than us. I really did it for the adventure, but there is something SO satisfying about raising a sum of money like that for other people, just like us, that have it a lot tougher than us. It was a very close to heart cause for me, as my brother Ally has Autism, so I know just what it's like. Someone made a point that we should see all our physical pain as symbolic of the pain Auties experience daily from bullying and being misunderstood.
I have learnt so many big life lessons throughout this project! I now have valuable expedition experience which will help me later on in life with future endeavours, and I know how to run them better. The biggest lesson I learnt though, which can be translated into absolutely anyone's life, is that sometimes, YOU NEED TO FAIL BEFORE YOU CAN SUCCEED! I always thought that life would let me have it my way, and that I would never fail, but now I know that FAILURE LEADS TO SUCCESS! I am determined to get back out there next year and do it all again, but this time, get the full 100 kms. I will use all the lessons I learnt this time round to guide me to future success. That's how success happens. No matter who you are or what you're doing, success will come if rather than letting failure dissuade you, you use it as a stepping stone to all your hopes and dreams.
