Six Foot Track Marathon

Saturday 10th March 2007, despite the overwhelming sadness of losing one of my closest friends a voice in my head was telling me that I still had to run the 6 foot track – as a competitor in the grueling 45 km off-road marathon from Katoomba to Jenolan Caves.

School holidays, 1984, I start my first wilderness adventure with Morgan. Four guys and four girls head off from the Explorers Tree, just outside Katoomba, along the 6-foot track. I remember the cascading ferns hanging down dripping cliffs as we squeezed down a narrow trail that seemed to go on forever. I remember the camping, the dinners, the chit chat by the camp fire and finally the pairing off each night for adolescent exploration.

23 years later I ask Morgan for forgiveness while I try to put him out of my mind for the next 5 hours so I can concentrate on finishing the run. The narrow trail is more or less like I remember it, just a little more crowded and a little dryer from the drought.

Of course I cannot put Morgs out of my mind. I’ve done too much outdoors with him to ever be in the wilderness and not feel his presence. As we run past the campsites, the morning smell of campfire breakfast takes me back. My mind starts to wander to other trips we have done together, the climbing, the trekking and the camping. I think about the conversations we have had, I think about what others have said about Morgan. As far as I know the 6-foot track is where his reputation started as a good kisser.

Even though I was sad for every minute of the run thinking about a dear friend, I was smiling for the full 5 hours of running. I was happy to be outdoors, to be running in such a beautiful place. I was content knowing that Morgs would have enjoyed this paradox of being happy and sad at the same time.

I finished the run in tears.

Unbeknown to the editor of the Blue Mountains Gazette, the paper covers Morgan on the front page as a loved uncle to Kathryn and Simon and on the back page a photo of me in the starting pack of the 6-foot track marathon.

Yes, I also had a chuckle to myself at the irony of the Grim Reaper at the start of the race. This guy, dressed as the Grim Reaper, was meant to take runners out of the race if they were dropping behind the cutoff time.

Morgan, I’m going to miss spending time with you out in the wilderness, your beloved friend … Simon.