Did we hit the wall, or did the wall hit us? It certainly felt like the latter.
The day started out alright - a little slowly, perhaps, a little late. When we walked out from Jell's Park, shading our eyes against the rising sun (ok, so that was mostly me, as I had forgotten my hat) I think we all felt ok. A little chilly, a little sleepy, a little lacking in energy, but confident and optimistic. Sadly, that didn't last too long. For whatever reason, this week's training was just harder than it should have been. Everything felt further, the hills felt steeper. When we started it was cold but soon enough it was unpleasantly hot.
The high point of the walk, both literally and figuratively, was the climb up Lysterfield hill. The first time we did this was on one of our first training walks. That time, we had to stop and rest many times going up that hill. This time, there was only one brief rest break, then a stop at the top to enjoy the scenery and to have another group of walkers take a photo for us. It felt good to know that the training was making a real difference.
After Lysterfield hill is a long section of dead straight, dead boring, gravel road. A section that feels it will never end. A section that makes you realise that you really should have gone to the loo back at the last park. The pace picked up at this point, we were all eager to get into Lysterfield lake park (checkpoint 2). As you walk out of the long straight road, and realise that you still have 3 kms to go to the checkpoint, a pretty big temptation smacks you about the face: a little track, veering off to the left, labeled quite clearly "Shortcut Walk". The trailwalker directions explicitly state "ignore shortcut walk on left". I have to wonder how many people thought it might be a good idea. We successfully resisted temptation, marching on down the Oxfam approved track, only to have a second, more enticing, temptation put in front of us: a glimpse of Lake Lysterfield itself, as we round a bend in the track and look down on a vast expanse of cool, sparkling water. At this point, you realise two things: first, that you are really hot and sweaty; and second, that the checkpoint is on the opposite side of the lake, and surely it would be much faster to just swim across rather than walk all of the way around. Wouldn't it? No, probably not, but it was tempting.
We did eventually make it into checkpoint 2 - to the great relief of all of us. Past all of the families barbecuing (seriously, I have never smelled such a fantastic smell, we nearly mobbed them for their sausages) we found a shady spot to sit, take off shoes and socks and relax. Lunch was eaten, blisters bandages changed. Bridge and Brig had had the foresight to pack a fresh pair of socks, while Renee and I had to put our sweaty ones back on (I'm buying more this afternoon). It was with great reluctance that we all stood again to continue walking.
Walking out of Lysterfield, the track is once again a very long, straight, boring gravel road. In this case, it was in the full sun, and the bush to one side was being burnt back, so the road was smoky. It was about this point that I became aware of every blister. It was about this point that I hit the proverbial wall. It hurts. Lots. I felt like I was slugging through syrup, lifting legs whose muscles had turned to jelly. My feet were solid leaden blocks, with sharp, hot needles of pain. Slowly, slowly; one foot in front of the other, sip from the camelbak, don't watch the trail ahead, don't look at the hills coming up. Bridge gave me her hat, saying that of all of us I was most likely to suffer from sunstroke and sunburn (true - I'm still peeling from the sunburn I got hiking 3 weeks ago). I'm not sure what got me over the hill into Birdsland. Possibly it was the knowledge that I was stopping there - I had decided by this point that I just couldn't walk any further, and that the others could walk on to checkpoint 3, and pick me up on the way back through. Possibly it was sheer stubbornness. Possibly it was the lack of other options.
Shortly before we got into Birdsland, the others had also decided to call it quits there, and Bridge started calling for a taxi to take us to the car we had left at checkpoint 3. Calling a taxi in Belgrave turns out to be non-trivial, and we waited for about an hour before one finally arrived. The wait was pleasant enough, though - in the shade, rehydrating, snacking on Brig's ever-present container of nuts and fruit, chatting to two other walkers who were doing exactly the same thing as us.
Until this Sunday's walk, I felt confident. I knew we had more training to go, but we were on track, and I was fairly certain we would make it. Now, though? Less so. Perhaps it was just a bad week. Perhaps we were all over-tired, fighting off a bug, hot and dehydrated. I'm trying to tell myself that, anyway.
Lessons learned? Well, I now know what that wall feels like. I know that I can go a little further if I have to. I know that I could have made it the next checkpoint (albeit very slowly), after a rest in the shade and some more gatorade. (We were somewhat pressed for time, so opted not to keep going.)
I know not to forget a hat again, and to bring more socks. I know all of the places on my feet that are prone to blisters (current count is 6).
So, we had a bad training walk. Next week will be better. I promise.
