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Writer's pictureCorrie Johnstone

West Mac Monster 231km - Race Report (Meg Bullen [nee. Coffey])

In 2023, I had the privilege of coaching Meg Bullen (nee. Coffey), an exceptional athlete, (not to mention an amazing person, coaching colleague, and a physio) who achieved the remarkable feat of breaking the female record on the 231km course with a time of 47 hours, 11 minutes, and 38 seconds.


Please find her detailed race report below. I trust you will find it as inspiring as I did.



West Mac Monster, Sonder Monster

The Larapinta Trail

 

Meghann Bullen (nee Coffey)
May 23’

Photos by Meg Bullen and West Mac Monster


A year earlier I watched a friend race West Mac Monster Sonder Monster. Following along the tracker, the landscape looked amazing. A 231km point to point race in the middle of Australia with ~6,000m elevation. I couldn’t wait to race it.

In the lead up to the event, my training included plenty of volume, plenty of climbing, heat acclimatisation training (hot baths!) and hours of watching videos of the Larapinta Trail. All the videos, photos and descriptions don’t do the trail justice. I thought I was ready but nothing could have prepared me for the rugged and isolating Larapinta Trail. It felt like you were constantly in a stand still admiring the brutal and beautiful landscape.

For the race in May 2023, my husband, sister, two friends, mum and brother-in-law joined me in Alice Springs to crew and pace. The then, current female FKT time was 54 hours and 21 minutes held by Lucy Bartholomew, and the female course record was 56 hours and 52 minutes, held by Elizabeth Woodgate. I was hoping to go under 54 hours, but I had no idea what was possible.

Friday morning race start, standing on the start line, I had butterflies is my belly and my mind was turning to mush. I tried to keep focus, “eat and take it slow Meg, you’ve got a long way to go”. The summit of Mt Sonder was ~7kms climbing, covering ~750m elevation. This year was the first year the race organisers allowed crew to join their runner up and down Mt Sonder. We started and quickly broke up into little groups, everyone finding their own stride. It was so nice to share the first little bit of the race with my husband and two friends who would later be pacing me. Not only for the extra bit of company but giving them an idea of the trail. As we ascended, my husband kept reminding me to take it easy as he could see I was already trying to catch the female up ahead of me. Having company that first 16kms was special and as we hit the bottom, I left them and I was on my own for the next 100kms or so.

 

To make the task seem somewhat possible, I decided to break the race into quarters.  Each quarter equated to a 12-hour period. Day one was quarter one, night one was quarter two and so on. My four quarters would finish at 9am, the 48-hour mark, and then I’d be running into overtime hoping the adrenaline would get me to the finish. I had covered the distance 18 months earlier at the Delirious West 200 miler, but with a race this long there are so many unknowns, and I knew I’d have to focus on one quarter at a time.


Into the first day, the trail flowed, and I mainly ran solo. The first 30kms, I was back and forth with another female and male runner, who after I decided to push the pace, I didn’t see again.  The trail mainly ran through the grass flats with wet and dry creek crossing. There were some smaller climbs and fun switch backs. The body and mind were feeling good, so I used advantage of this while I could.


The first crewed checkpoint was at 50kms and I was around my estimated time. Everyone was excited. There's so much excitement, energy and nervousness at checkpoints. So many questions and thoughts I want to share in such a short period. I didn’t want to sit and hang around long this early in the race. We did a quick refill of water, coke, lollies, gels and after a reapply of sunscreen and chafe cream I headed out. The next time I see the team wouldn’t be till after dark.


Towards the end of the first day, the sky turned a deep fiery red. I could hear the dingos singing to one another from ridge lines and I was filled with an overwhelming sense of being completely isolated. I’ve ran plenty of races, running solo through day and night, but never have I felt so totally alone. There was not a spot of human trace out to the horizon. It was peaceful but don’t get me wrong, there was a huge sense of edginess hearing dingos howl knowing I was about to lose light and go into the darkness without a moon to light the trail.

 

I dropped into a gorge with large boulders, finding it hard to keep an eye on trail markers. With a few forwards and backs trying to figure out the way, I made it out and reconnected with the crew at the next checkpoint. At this point, I was getting a tone of blisters, so we did a shoe change a lot earlier than planned. I headed out again, solo into the darkness. I found my groove and followed the flowy single trail up onto another ridge line. I took a moment at the top to turn off my headlight, pause and take in the breathtaking stars. It felt like they lit the way. Everything seemed to be going right.

 

I reached Ellery Creek (103kms) at 1:50am. The last 14kms were frustrating as I’d had to back track to re-find the trail multiple times. The trail was a scramble. I was on hands to climb up the large rocky inclines and a lot of the trail markers seemed to be hidden or missing. I came running into the checkpoint in relief to have finished the section. My husband was standing there, after just emerging from his sleeping bag. My frustration was let out on him. I knew the change in my mood meant I needed to have a quick nap before moving through the rest of the night.  It’s amazing the superpowers of a nap (even if only 12 minutes) and on waking, I returned to my cheery self. Myself and my pacer, Stef stepped off, knowing we wouldn’t see our crew again for the next 16 hours.

 

A few hours after stepping off, we hit a large river crossing and couldn’t see the marker on the other side. We pulled out our maps and realised we had missed a critical turn on the trail and had come almost full circle back to the checkpoint. We were still following the Larapinta Trail, yet no longer going the right direction. My heart sank knowing we had lost around an hour and a lot of energy only to get back to where we had come from, and the negative thoughts began flooding into my mind. Stef could see I was frustrated; and after allowing me to sulk she gave me a metaphoric slap in the face, told me to put my big girls pants on and get on with it. The sun began to rise, and we had entered the third quarter.

 Mid-morning came and we were in the depths of Hugh Gorge. The gorge walls were dark red skyscrapers, large fallen trees covered the riverbed, and the sand was littered with dingo footprints. We knew there was a large swimming hole coming up, which meant we had to either climb along the vertical gorge wall or swim. We had decided pre-race we would swim to save an accident fall into the water. We packed reef shoes and carried them with us to save our joggers getting wet and reduce the chances of any cuts on our feet. As we reached the swimming hole, we swapped our shoes over, put our electronics in a waterproof bag and walked into knee deep.

 

Stef decided to go first. She stripped to her bra and undies; she handed me her things. She swam around to climb up on a boulder. I threw everything across and jumped in. The water took my breath away and immediately I could no longer feel anything except the intense pins and needles through my body. As I was clinging onto the boulder trying to use my tired arms to climb out, we had a realisation of how funny we must look, and that it no longer felt like a race, but one of our many Sunday adventures.

 

I climbed up onto the boulder and we sat in the sun, slowly getting dressed. We appreciated the unique experience and beautiful outback we found ourselves in, feeling as if we were the only people there. It was that or the lack of sleep that left us speechless.The rest of the day, we passed a handful of hikers, climbed more ridge-lines, scrambled down what felt like vertical rock faces and navigated through large sandy gorges. Fatigue was catching up, but Stef kept me in a good mood with her prepared jokes.

 

We reached Stanley Chasm (160kms at 5:30pm) at the end of the third quarter, just as I had hoped. Although feeling exhausted, sore and some feelings of anxiousness to see everyone again, I couldn’t hide my ear-to-ear smile as I ran into the checkpoint feeling like a weight was off my shoulders. My crew were excited we had made it through the last section in one piece. I changed my clothes (well overdue), had a few mouth fulls of pasta, sipped on coke and felt ready to roll. While loosening off my shoelaces to put my already swollen and blistered feet back in my shoes, I told my husband how I had a feeling that the finish line wasn’t getting closer. It seemed the further I ran, the further the finish line felt. He has a calming demeanour and is frustratingly rational. He reassured me I was doing well and to keep moving, “Stay with Geri, she’ll get you to the end”. I said goodbye to my crew in my broken, croaky voice from the cold air temperatures and hours of eating nothing but gels, knowing it was myself and Geri solo for the night.

As we headed out of the checkpoint, within 500m on the first few steps of the next accent, my pole gave way, and I almost toppled with it. Luckily, I had a spare set of poles with the crew, and we quickly darted back to catch them and swap poles over. We were off again.

 

As quickly as the sun rose that morning, it was setting again, and our view had turned into a little white light guiding the way. We scrambled up and down the steep steps carved into the rocks and followed the sandy riverbed whilst trying to avoid the overgrown spinifex. As I ran along the winding trail my mind became clear and I felt completely in the moment, the discomfort and doubt of never finishing had vanished. Sadly, that didn’t last long as we entered the high route out of Miller’s Flat.

 

After what felt like hours of scrabbling vertically and being hit with freezing cold gusty winds, we thought we’d reached the top only to realise it was another false summit.

“What am I doing” I’d yell to myself as I’d fight to keep my eyes open.

“Put your gloves on” Geri responded, encouraging me to stay warm.

“Huh” We were only 10 metres apart but with hoods up and the cyclone-like winds it was impossible to hear one another. We continued trudging upwards.

 

We eventually made it down off the ridgeline and I became excited knowing we were getting close. If we kept our pace, we’d finish close to 48 hours. I told Geri and she immediately put her foot down and vanished, it was her way of telling me to get moving. 

 

We hit a few checkpoints throughout the night, and we re-fuelled with some hot noodles or soup, lollies and conversations with the volunteers out there. The moment I stopped running the cold night air made me shiver uncontrollably. One of the checkpoints, we decided to stop and have another quick nap to get me through the rest of the night. At this point, I had reached just over 200kms and I’d be running over 40 hours with only 12 minutes sleep. Geri set her timer for 15 minutes and I quickly fell asleep in a swag the checkpoint had set up for runners. 15 minutes never sounds very long but it’s actually all you feel like you need. It’s still hard waking and getting up, but you feel so refreshed and completely new. I remember having the most vivid dreams. We headed back out on the trails and continued moving as quickly as we could.  

We charged into Simpsons Gap (206kms at 3:30am) 2.5 hours earlier than we had planned. So early, our crew hadn’t arrived yet. We let them know we were safe and that we’d keep moving and see them at the next checkpoint.  The checkpoint ladies seemed to be surprised with our cheeriness. We knew we were so close to the finish, and we were both getting excited. We had some warm soup before leaving, following the little white squares with blue triangles that marked the trail.

 

The temperature seemed to drop again, and I really started to struggle to get moving. We stopped and I put on my thermal and an extra buff to try and get warm. I felt like my legs had become giant ice bergs and I couldn’t get them to run. I focused on moving my poles quickly to get into a rhythm to pick my feet up to run. It worked enough that we got back to running. We passed another checkpoint, but I told Geri I didn’t want to stop and risk getting cold again. We were roughly 10kms to go, and the sun was about to rise.

 

We found ourselves descending off Euro Ridge (less than 10kms to the finish) watching as the sun turn the sky into a deep purple with sparkles of the last stars fading. We could see Alice Springs slowing waking up as we were charging towards it. The sky was beautiful, but I couldn’t help to feel like I was taking the unique views for granted. After 46 hours on the track, I would lift my head for a few seconds before returning to watch my feet on the rocky loose trail. Geri thankfully stopped and took plenty of photos. Looking back at these after the race, I wondered how I didn’t remember the breath-taking views.

We met my crew again at the checkpoint. We had 5kms to go. The race allows anyone to finish the last 5kms with their runner, so Stef, my sister and husband joined Geri and I for the final 5km. I was running as quickly as I could, but it wasn’t much faster than a power walking pace. We shared lots of stories in the last 5kms and I focused on not getting lost. Begin so close now, I didn’t want to have to run an extra 500m if I didn’t have to. We knew we would be coming in under 48 hours as long as I kept moving.

 

I crossed the finish line in 47 hours and 11 minutes. I couldn’t believe WE had done it. I didn’t think running sub 50 hours was even possible, but to run it under 48 hours, being the first female to break that barrier was amazing. We hugged and sat by a fire. It seemed to be over just as quickly as it started, and all the discomfort and tiredness vanished in an instant.

 


The Larapinta Trail is the most brutal yet stunning course I’ve ever done. 231kms of almost entirely single trail. Immediately after finishing I couldn’t imagine ever running it again, it was so brutal. Now, after plenty of time to look back and take it in, I cannot wait to return.    


 Stats from the race:

  • 47 hours and 11 minutes with only 25 minutes of sleep

  • 1st Female in the Sonder Monster race (231km)

  • 2nd Place Overall in the Sonder Monster race (231km)

  • Female Course Record (and Fastest Known Time)

  • 2x pairs of shoes

  • 2x falls leading to a bloody knee and ear

  • 2x watch charges

  • 1x broken pole

  • 1 hour of being lost

  • 5x cups of 2-minute noodles

  • Too many gels to count

  • Lots of dingo foot prints but no animals seen


You can find her on instragram here


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