Over the weekend, my team members and I completed the Gold Coast 96km Kokoda Challenge in 26 hours and 46 minutes.

I was holding back the tears as we crossed the finishing line… a united team of four who had just done a very hard thing.

Wikepedia tells it like this: In the Kokoda Challenge, participants trek a 96km cross-country course, walking along fire trails, crossing 12 creeks, and climbing and descending about 4500 metres of vertical elevation, within 39 hours. The goal is to finish as a complete team of four in honour of the spirit forged on the Kokoda Track in 1942: Mateship, Endurance, Courage, and Sacrifice.

Finishing as a team is the goal but some people do it, with the added element of racing it, in mind. The fastest time this year was 15 hours and 43 minutes and my mind boggles at the speed they must have run to do it that fast. In past years, about 20% of starters, don’t finish. If more than one person drops out of your team, you can’t officially finish it… added incentive to stick together… not that we needed it.

Whatever I write about the experience, will be a watered-down version of the real thing.  I’m pretty sure it has changed me in some indescribable way. The physical part was very hard, but I think the hardest for me was the ‘team’ part. Things get messy in teams. Without a natural instinct to lead, I naturally give over control to others… which started to irk me as I got older. As a consequence, I prefer to do things on my own. I’m very self-sufficient and confident when left to my own devices.

Don’t get me wrong, throughout all the training and throughout the challenge, I adored my team. But it was still hard for all of us. We acknowledged right at the beginning that we were a very ‘eclectic’ bunch of people. But we all naturally enjoyed each other’s company and we compromised… and then compromised some more. All of us. And when the going got tough, we stuck together as a team. And that truly is what the Kokoda spirit is about. I get it now… not just in theory but rather… somewhere deep in my bones.

Of course, we didn’t nearly die. It was nothing like what the soldiers of the 39^th Battalion, who marched the real Kokoda in Papua New Guinea in 1942 had to endure. We chose to do it, rather than being ordered to do it. So, it’s a little bit of a crock really… I get it. Yes, we walked a long way. But hey… we had a support crew. We had water stops and portable toilets. There was emergency assistance if it was needed. We had hiking boots, backpacks, water bladders, energy shots, and headlamps. How could we not make it?

Well, it was still hard.

We’d been training together with another group of four, who were planning to do the 48km Kokoda. Not all of us trained every session, but there was an expectation that most of us would train 3 times every week. Some did not need to train that much. One in the 48 team did not even get puffed while climbing Hellfire Pass (the name gives a good description) – our regular Friday night climb. Another had done the 96km, seven times already, and was extremely fit. But the rest of us did. We really needed to. Our fitness improved slowly but surely. We timed ourselves and improved our speed.

In preparation, we’d trained every one of those hills multiple times. Generally speaking, if the Kokoda trail wasn’t going up, it was going down. There was not much flat trail to speak of, so living near the trail and having access to the real thing was such an advantage:  Mt Olive, Mt Nimmel, Mt Fairview (my nemesis), Mt Polly, Red Hill, Army Land, Cow Pastures, Mt Nathan, Nerang State Forest… and many more. I know them all much too well.

A 48km training walk (the first half of the Kokoda 96) four weeks before the real thing, turned out to be the best practice hike of all. I learned what NOT to wear, and that you may need to change your sweaty clothes for some dry stuff, so you don’t get hypothermia. I learned that it is possible to chafe, even though you’ve never experienced chafing before.

All the training we did really showed me that the human body is capable of much more than you think. Who knew that your legs would eventually stop complaining if you just ignored the pain. Who knew that you could get really puffed, and you could keep puffing like that for hours on end without rest. Who knew that you could learn to run 6km continually along a fire trail, after you’d already climbed many of those bastardly hills… in the dark. Who knew that you could learn to hold a conversation… or at least listen to someone talking (a few of my training buddies certainly have the gift of the gab) while still concentrating on not falling over on a scree of loose rocks.

I learned that we all deal with hardship and discomfort differently and that it changes over time too. I did see brief, rare moments of defensiveness, and impatience. At other times, I witnessed a need for reassurance, or quiet. But I can honestly say that everyone in our two teams who trained together showed true kindness, acceptance, mateship… and grit!

The 48km team consisted of Kevin, their team leader. A sweet and gentle accountant who is the fastest walker I have ever encountered in my life. He doesn’t run anymore, after injuring his knees, but he can outwalk the running ‘youngsters’ any day. Fred and Sam, are both chefs and the loveliest French-speaking couple in their early thirties; absolute gems of people with such zest and enthusiasm for life. Ramesh, originally from Nepal, and coincidentally also a chef in his late thirties had been training for a road marathon when he joined the team. He has a smile that would light up any room. All four, are equally cheeky and funny.

The 96km team’s beloved team leader, was retired home economics teacher Eileen, who, at 67, likes to run a very tight ship. She knows the Gold Coast Hinterland like the back of her hand. Eileen has a passion for bushwalking and a heart of gold that would compete with the likes of Pharlap… if his heart was still beating and covered in gold. If you appreciate honesty… you’ll love Eileen.  Eileen organized countless hikes for the whole team of eight, including complicated car shuffles. She taught us about diet and nutrition, and gear. What Eileen doesn’t know about hiking (in particular hiking the Kokoda trail), is not worth knowing. The time, enthusiasm, and effort she put into organizing and encouraging us, was phenomenal.

Ryan is an IT specialist with two young children, who I only met twice before the big day as he didn’t need to train so much (he really didn’t). Calm, kind, and patient, ALL the time. He surprised me at times with the cheeky jibes he directed toward Eileen, who seemed equally shocked and impressed by his audacity.

And Bette. Meeting 65-year-old Bette was one of the luckiest moments in my life. I met her on my first attendance at a Meet-Up hiking group called Fit, Fast and Furious. We got chatting and before long, I’d realized that this person was one of the loveliest individuals I’d ever come across. She told me she was in training for the Kokoda. I casually mentioned I’d always wanted to do that…  and the next minute, I was turning up for a trial-‘run’ with the team. Bette and I have become fast friends and after spending so many hours trekking in the forest, there is not much that we don’t know about each other.

Then there was me. A rather reserved Occupational Therapist, battling through a Ph.D., recently single 50-year-old mother of three, living her best life.

Being an eclectic bunch of people was great, but not easy for poor Eileen to cope with. I think she gained some extra grey hairs trying to herd us all into place. But she did it. And by the time the big day arrived for us all, we were more than ready.

The 48km team started at 12 O’clock midday on the same day that we started at 7am. They began at our halfway point much before we got there, and finished in a little over 10 hours. A massive feat. They ran a lot of it (well… Kevin speed-walked it) and they stuck together like the awesome team they are.

We’d arrived at the start well before sunrise. When the official part (including an emotional bugle call) was over, the countdown began. We were enthusiastic and chatting happily (I was jumping up and down like an excited child in a lolly shop) as we were finally released from the holding pen.

The first section was such fun. People were cheering for us along the road. So many participants; everyone, as happy and enthusiastic as the next.

When we finally got to the first hill, it didn’t take long before people stopped talking. Mt Olive is a rude awakening to the reality of what is about to hit you. There were so many people, and we were overtaking quite a lot of them… getting into our usual climbing pace. By the time we got to the top, one of us needed to have a nature stop, and everyone we’d overtaken, plus many more, got in front of us again. It kind of set the scene for at least the first quarter of the Kokoda trail. 

Eventually, everyone kind of found their speed, and the thousands of people spaced themselves out. Eileen has a very painful bunion. We started to call it ‘Leftie’… an affectionate name for a foot, that really shouldn’t be walking 96km in succession. In training, we all knew it would be a problem, and it certainly didn’t get much better. During that first 30km or so, she occasionally yelled out involuntarily as a particularly painful jolt of pain shot through her body. A few times she even dropped straight down, from the pain. I think it was the pain that then made her lose her power at times. The fact that Eileen finished that challenge at all deserves some serious recognition. I lost count of the number of times she gritted her teeth and just rallied.

Finally getting to Mt Fairview, I surprised myself by tackling that awful hill as if it was no big deal. For the first time ever, I stood at the top, waiting for Eileen… a role reversal where she usually called out her encouragement to me on that last steep section. When they finally appeared, Bette was holding onto Eileen’s arm and helping to pull her upwards.  Eileen truly struggled to get to Polly’s Support Crew Stop. By that stage, we were already 45 minutes behind Eileen’s most pessimistic prediction.

Ramesh’s lovely partner Renee attended to Eileen at our first short break and seemed to have worked some magic on Leftie. Eileen almost skipped onwards to start on Polly’s Peak. The climb wasn’t easy, but we knew it well, so there were no surprises.

It started to get dark then as we traversed Waterfall Circuit. This is my favourite part since it is really the only section (about 12km) that is not an arseholy amount of climbing. Can I just add that we all swore quite freely while doing this challenge? None of us are natural ‘swearers’, but it just seemed appropriate. Our noses were running constantly. I had a weird suspicion that my brain was starting to melt and coming out of my nose.  

We rock-hopped across 8 creeks. I think Ryan dipped a foot in, but none of us fell in. By the time it was properly dark, Bette and Ryan had gone far ahead, and I stayed with Eileen. It was like that the whole time. Someone hung out with Eileen. We looked after her as she’d looked after us the whole time in training. We took it in turns. It was good and it was also hard. It is hard to stop and wait because you cool down. You don’t sit down, so it’s not a rest. You stand and wait, and you get cold. You lose your momentum. It is more difficult. But it was even more difficult for Eileen, so we kept her going… and we kept each other’s spirits up.  

The first two support stops were a delight. Everything was set up when we got there, and our individual support people were amazing. At Raw Challenge, we wolfed down some hot soup made by Eileen.  My parents (may I say, the best parents in the world) were there for me for those two stops, and we all felt quite refreshed by the time we left.

Somewhere along the way, while crossing through the cow pasture leading into the third support stop, Bette stepped in a bog, which was actually a deep hole full of cow-do. I hadn’t realized till afterwards, that she’d had a wet boot for the rest of the walk. That would not have made it any more pleasant.

By the time we finally reached the third support stop at Army Land, a change of plan meant that all our boxes and food had been moved to another vehicle belonging to the 48km team’s support crew who’d just seen their own team cross the line. Unfortunately, they arrived only one minute before we did. My absolute legend of a son had been there waiting for us for at least an hour. He only had chairs, a table, and the makings for a cup of coffee for us all, so he had done everything he could to make it good. The food for the last two support stops had not been passed over to the men with the Ute, so there was no food and no tent (yet), and it was freezing. We decided just to keep going after that as there wasn’t much point in sitting there and getting colder.

Walking through Army Land itself was my lowest point. Not terrible. But I was very cold. I needed to pee almost as soon as we’d left the support stop, and my torch was starting to fade much earlier than I had anticipated. Thank goodness Bette had a backup and I got some light for the rest of that stretch. Everyone had become very quiet. It was 1.30am and we were getting tired. We passed an ambulance going back along the Army land road. Then we started climbing… we knew what was coming so we got on with it, but it was hard going.

Bette took an energy shot and turned into an energizer bunny, talking about random things that bore no relevance to the current situation. It was all I could do to grunt in reply. By this stage, we’d seen many people who looked like they weren’t having a lot of fun, so we knew we were not alone. Some looked beyond miserable. At the top of Army Land, there were people lying on the ground asleep at the checkpoint. It must have been no more than 7 degrees. They had no blankets. Just lying there like dead bodies. We didn’t stop…. there were checkpoint people there – so they were safe (ish) and we didn’t have extra energy to look after anyone else. We knew it would be harder if we stopped, so we just kept on going.

We were getting worried that Eileen’s kidney was struggling… that she was getting dehydrated. It was then that we realized she really hadn’t been drinking enough water. She had Endura and GO in small bottles in her bag but was not carrying much pure water. And she’d run out of that a while ago. Bette topped up her water and Eileen rallied again. Like every other time.

Going down Hellfire Pass took a LONG time. I can run down that hill in 35 minutes. It took us probably an hour. It was hard for me to go that slow on a downhill. Even though I have no knee problems, my knees were sore during that part. We were a sorry crew that finally made it to Clagiraba Flats.

The support crew had outdone themselves. The tent was up and there was a little heater. They’d collected Ramesh and Renee too. My son was there, like an angel in the night. They’d bought some sausage rolls for Ryan and Bette, and an egg sandwich for Eileen. I am GF and told them at the earlier stop that I had something in my box I could eat, but unfortunately, when I had the first bite of the weird rice thing I’d brought, I realized that it was so spicy I couldn’t eat it. Didn’t matter as I wasn’t hungry by that stage. They had set everything up so nicely, and I had a coffee and felt the love again.

Here is a picture of the quiche I’d made for us to eat at that final stop. Sad ending to that poor quiche. Unloved and untouched at the bottom of someone’s esky… found the following day, next to Bette’s also uneaten chicken noodle soup.

It took a while before everyone was ready to head off and I’d gotten so cold by then that it took a long time for me to stop shaking. I warmed up again soon after we started climbing ANOTHER BIG HILL.  I’d just taken an energy shot and I fired up that hill like nobody’s business. It felt so good to feel strong then. I hadn’t expected to be able to do that so late in the game. I still smile at the way I climbed that hill. Yes, the energy shot… but also, I really appreciated what my body was capable of. I hadn’t once felt like I was low on energy. Maybe sick of it in Army Land, but a constant supply of energy just kept feeding my muscles.

I’d forgotten, until well after we’d finished, that just two weeks earlier, I’d been told by my GP that I was very iron deficient and had barely any iron reserves at all. Not ideal. But there wasn’t enough time to do anything other than take iron supplements. I’d been so conscious of feeding my body properly leading up to the challenge. I’d continued to do my Intermittent Fasting routine (4-hour eating window every night); however, I’d had to make an exception and eat something during the day, when a long training hike was planned – I learned that the hard way. But every night during my normal eating window, I’d have a high-protein meal, lots of nuts, and a protein shake. My body changed shape. My legs and butt got bigger (much to my horror) but my stomach got flat… so it was muscle. Even my arms toned a little from stabbing those poor hiking poles into the ground with force, over and over again. My body did exactly what I needed it to do. I don’t think I could have done that, with such ease, with skinny legs.

The sun had finally started to make its way back to our little spot on the planet. It was a beautiful thing, to see the colours slowly change as we reached the top of Mt Nathan. We’d walked a whole day and a whole night, and we were still walking.

We asked some fellow hikers if they wouldn’t mind taking a photo of us in front of the very last proper hill. It doesn’t look like much here, but as you round the bend, it turns into another bastard.

When we got into Nerang Forest at long last, it felt like we were nearly home… though we still had another 15km to go. The trail just went on and on… and on. Fifteen km is not ‘nearly there’. The pain I was feeling in my feet would have normally made me stop and adjust my shoes in some hurried way, but I couldn’t be bothered. I just let them hurt. I think we all did that. The aches and pains we’d been ignoring for the past 20+ hours started to surface, but we kept going.

We eventually started to feel the feeling of ‘we might actually finish this soon’. Bette started to get quite excited, but I was more subdued. I didn’t want to jinx it by celebrating too early. Ryan kept walking. Eileen kept stopping, sending texts, fixing things, toilet stop, and changing her clothes. We all changed into our new Kokoda shirts that we’d been given at registration and saved for this moment.

Eileen’s friend, Judy, met up with us about 2km from the finish line. She kept zigzagging across the trail to pick up rubbish. I wanted to help, but I didn’t. Bette picked up a couple of pieces and I thought she’d gone mad. I think it was hard for Eileen who did not have the mental energy to properly engage with her friend. Then, 400 metres from the finish line, I heard my dear friend Wayne, shouting my name and taking my picture. He walked with me for a while and it was SO good to see him. Knowing that we’d want to do this last little bit as a team of four, our friends went to duck back onto the road that ran parallel to this part of the trail. As he went to wave me off, I said to him, ‘that was really hard’ and started to choke up.

I sucked the tears back in and we walked over the grass to the finishing line, where we crossed it together. The soldiers standing at attention, the cheering, the congratulations that boomed over the loudspeakers, shouting our team’s name… again the tears were there. I sucked them down again.

An RSL lady put a Kokoda 96km dog tag over my head and asked me ‘how did the oldies go?’ I answered truthfully, ‘they were absolutely amazing. Age really is just a number.’

I spotted my parents and my son, and my friend. The whole 48km team was there to cheer for us. I will never forget that. I cannot put into words how that felt.

That walk changed me. The training as well. I learned so much about myself and it will take some time to process it properly.

I know that I’m good on my own… efficient, accurate, and logical. But doing something truly as a team and helping each other when something is hard… is bloody amazing.

After we’d all hugged everyone, had a drink of bubbly, and caught our breaths, Eileen came right up to my face and said, ‘Thank you, Laila, for getting me here,’ and she had tears in her eyes. We both started crying then. I said ‘No, Eileen, thank you for getting me here.’

And I meant it with every fibre of my being. She got us all here. She nearly broke me at times, (and I mean that with love and humour) but she also put me together into something I might like even more. Just like the Kokoda.