West Macs Monster 128km race report

Killarney Heights, NSW resident Susie Campbell took her visit to the Northern Territory to race in the challenging West Macs Monster in a celebration of her 50th birthday. Held along the Larapinta Trail near Alice Springs, this race is tough, brutal – but oh, so worth it.

17-19 MAY 2024 – LARAPINTA TRAIL, NORTHERN TERRITORY, AUSTRALIA: Back in March 2023, I ran Kunanyi Mountain Run, a tough 68km race in Tasmania which triggered my love of tough endurance runs. The pain of completing it though soon wore off and I was on the phone to my run coach, telling her I had found my next challenge – the West Macs Monster 128km. 

It was to be a gift to myself for my 50th birthday, and I thought this would be my first race in the next age category, maybe even standing a chance of a top 3 in age category! What I didn’t know at the time was there were no age categories for West Macs, and so not only was this to prove that 50 wasn’t old, it was also going to prove that 50 can still compete with the young ones. 

In March, my husband Johnny and I both came down with Influenza A, which impacted the completion of two of my long training runs. I was gutted and began to doubt my ability to compete strong, but I resolved that there was nothing I could do except get back into training, recover well and be consistent until race day.

I flew to Alice Springs on the Thursday prior. The volunteers at race headquarters were fabulous with many of them either having run it before or knowing the race really well. I felt somewhat more confident and relieved to have passed the mandatory gear inspection and collected a satellite tracker. I messaged Johnny to bring tie wraps with him to strap it to my shoulder! 

My family flew in the following day and hubby came to the race briefing with me. 

Race day. Surprisingly, nerves were pretty well in check. Forecast, although dry, was for high winds….all I thought about was Razorback Ridge in wind and in the dark. Arriving at Ellery Creek Hole, it was cold. 

We were off; with a wave to my family I hit the trail. I have no recollection of thoughts at this point, aside from my form and ensuring I sipped and munched frequently – I had been warned repeatedly that the first 30km was very runnable and runners made the mistake of not eating, then struggling to catch up resulting in a DNF. I found myself as the pied piper with a little train of four other runners behind me for about 60km and trotted along passing the traverse without a swim and Razorback in the light and with navigation being pretty straightforward.

By 70km I was forcing a date bar down – my stomach was not keen on eating, but it did the trick and I was able to eat. 

With stunning scenery throughout, I ticked through aid stations, re-fueling on tomato soup and cheese toasties, soaking up the friendly chatter and supportive words from volunteers. As the light began to fade, I transitioned my kit from hat and sunnies to buff and head torch. 

I threw on a thermal and continued on, laser-focused on the 103km Simpsons Gap aid station where I knew my family would be. It was going to be a long night ahead of me, but strangely I didn’t fear being alone, and I think due to my focus on not losing the track, that I just put one foot in front of the other. I found that I instinctively knew when I was off track with ‘spidey’ senses tingling. 

By this point though I was fatiguing. I saw a 231km runner ahead of me. He looked broken. We chatted and he asked if he could follow me as his headlamp really wasn’t working. The company was a welcome distraction as I took charge of navigation during a rather technical section where we lost GPS signal through a steep sided gorge and found ourselves scrambling down steep boulders, quickly followed by equally steep climbs. On his tired legs, I felt for him and acknowledged that I wasn’t in a bad place. 

Having transited through dry riverbeds, deep in sand, my shoes filled and I had resolved to emptying them at the next aid station, but each time, food distracted me and it slipped my mind – three times! At first light, I turned off my headlamp and planned for Simpsons Gap.

It was tough, I can’t deny it, and I was digging deep and felt quite emotional at times. The terrain was brutal. Although I didn’t fall once, I lost count of the trips and kicking of rocks, which took their toll on my swollen, bruised feet. 

Mental strength – goodness I needed this in abundance; there were times where I knew my negative self-talk needed a slap and out loud I told myself to change the story. 

My running buddy Manuela had given me a lucky charm in the form of a turtle, which I carried in my back pocket. I talked to him asking what he thought of a DNF. He, of course, thought it was a stupid idea and that I should just keep going and could do it if I stopped focusing on the pain or how far I had left. 

Simpsons Gap – relief that I had reached 103km (I had smiled as I ticked over the 100km mark) and I vowed to change socks (as they were now so full of prickles), empty my shoes of sand and get a good feed to help me finish strong. Hubby provided the big hug I needed, no words required. Cute words of encouragement came from my 11yo and made me smile. Then a pacer tapped me on the shoulder and told me I was in third place! Like what? 

My 14yo said, ‘Mum, you’re in third, you have a podium finish! Does this mean you will be sponsored now?’. Forget sponsorships. I wanted a third place female finish! Let’s shift! I didn’t think to ask how far behind fourth was so set off determined to maintain a good pace! 

Twenty-five kilometres sounds nothing, but on super tired legs and with significant elevation left to go, I knew it was going to hurt. And it did. I hadn’t realised there were two aid stations between the finish, which was a bonus; I topped up with water and grabbed some watermelon. I skipped through the last one with a surprise visit from the family, spurring me on for the last 4km. And being told that fourth place was hours behind me, the relief was enormous! Only 4km I thought, but geez it hurt, and I just wanted to see the finish. I could hear it from one kilometre away, which was torture! My mind turned to a hot shower, hot food and to simply stop. I could no longer eat but decided it didn’t matter anyway. 

With the finish line in sight, I ran with a heart full of happiness, proud to have placed third female, and satisfied I had proved to myself that I could do hard things; that 50 was merely a number. And that the Larapinta Trail was my toughest yet.