It's been a long time between drinks for any post action here on this blog, that is for damn certain. 13 months. Cripes.

While there was certainly no lack of inspiration or adventure over the last 13 months, at least my writing frequency is consistent with the amount of actual racing I've been doing, as the previous post about my impending 2020 Tarawera 50k race was close to the last time I stood behind any start line to square off against some competition.

That was a fun day. A tough day, but a fun day. As was the next and final race I ran in 2020, the Tararua Mountain Race (TMR) in early March. That day was a bit tougher, and a bit more type 2 fun. And it destroyed me...

I'd made a conscious decision after Tarawera that the TMR would be my last race for sometime, as I was starting to feel the body fight back in many ways. Niggles here and there that shouldn't have been occurring. A general feeling of malaise that was just sapping my body on training runs, and there was little to no motivation to do any sorts of decent workouts, even if I pushed my aching body through to get them started.

With lockdown starting at the end of March, I was in a pretty good place. I had no races entered, so no stress with any cancellation consternation, plus I had the ever growing grateful feeling of how lucky I was to put in a last couple of efforts the month previous. Add to that the ability to run from home around my awesome local area every day if I wanted to, I started to get back into some easy training and build up gradually, aiming to just get some solid consistency into my training, which I hadn't had for a good 4-5 months.

And boy did I get some good work in during the lockdown. With 6 full weeks of consistent, gradual training I was feeling back to a million bucks physically. Mentally I was a bit stressed and frazzled as many of us were, it was a freaky time for many reasons, but I also really enjoyed the time at home with the kids and took to enjoying my home in a way I hadn't before. I pottered around doing random house or yard work more than I ever have, a future vision perhaps of how I will be when I finally slow down and decide to not go out running or walking in the hills at every opportunity.

Unfortunately that is where a lot of the good news stops with my running in 2020. Mid May, just out of lockdown, I went out for a 20 minute jog as I was having niggles in my quad and I wanted to just flush the legs. It was meant to be a completely non-trail run, but thought I'd do a little side path in Percy's Reserve. Bad mistake that. 5 meters onto the trail I stepped on a small bit of uneven clay, and rolled my ankle, HARD. Now I've rolled my ankles plenty of times, but this one - yeah I knew it was bad. So bad, it turned out, that I had completely torn my ATL and broke a bit of bone off my ankle bone through an avulsion fracture.

Whelp. Sigh. Into the moonboot I went.

Having just decided a week or so prior to my accident to commit to the NZ Trail Running Champs in October as my first big and possibly only race in 2020, this injury really did hit me mentally and sat me in a bad mood for some time. I recall seeing my physio about my ligament after getting the ultrasound done and asking if the ligament would ever heal. "No". Basically once completely torn, only surgery would get it back together, and since there are two just as good ligaments helping keep the ankle stable in that area, that wasn't going to happen. Oh well. Apparently it is a common occurrence among top sports men and women, and I just had to work hard to compensate for it.

One thing I notice a lot when reading about top sports stars coming back from injuries, or stories of survivalists overcoming overwhelming odds to make it out of situations, is there is always that cliché of 'Im not one to back down against a challenge' - and I often wonder if that's just something they thought once while in the shower after they got through what they were going through.

But here I was, faced with a bit of a situation where I had to overcome a less than ideal situation, and I recall quite well that I thought 'so you're telling me there is a chance' and that I'd work bloody hard and smart to make sure I was able to get back into shape better than I ever was before.

I got to it. Slowly and methodically with my physio's guidance, a lot of reading and a bit of tenacity. Over 8 months since then, I've been incredibly surprised with how it's all come together. Turns out that consistently targeted mobility and strengthening has made my ankles and legs feel the most stable, strong and flexible they have felt in years.

Thinking about it now, the fact I was injured could easily be seen as a one of the most useful things to happen to my running life (now, there is a bloody cliché if I've ever written one). The fact that I was forced to have over a month of rest when I was obviously niggly and beat up prior, plus having time to reflect when I'd just been so narrowly focused for so long, as well as taking time to learn more about strength and mobility and putting it into practice. All of that has lead to many, many lessons on how to get the body and mind back into racing shape better than before.

And now it is time to get back on that horse. But don't call it a comeback...yet.

Come tomorrow morning (Sunday 28th), I'll be joining a large contingent of other trail running enthusiasts on the start line of the Porirua Grand Traverse Mountain Run, as we head over Rangituhi, down to the coast and back for a 18km fun time on our feet.

While I am 'racing', I am by no means anywhere near my peak fitness. Regardless of any of that though, I am just so pumped to be doing things that I have missed doing for so long. Things such as analysing the course to the nth degree, constantly checking the weather forecast, thinking about race strategy, changing my mind on what shorts and shoes to wear about a hundred times and finally picking up a race number to pin on my singlet. It'll be the Olympic Harriers singlet of course, a singlet that I haven't worn for far too long.

And not only that, but I've been inspired to write again. Woohoo!

Tomorrow I will be satisfied regardless of the result, and without trying to peer around the corner too much, I am excited about the year ahead as I continue to improve and work towards lofty goals.

There will be more to come from me in 2021 - see you out there!

Tune of the post:
A modern grit applied to an S.P.Y classic, with vocals that I relate to so often while racing.

I'm currently sitting content in an AirBnB overlooking Rotorua with a coffee next to me and a gorgeous day starting to show itself with a magnificent sunrise.

_{^{Sunrise Feb 2020}}

The rest of the family, who have traveled up here with me to support me at the Tarawera Ultramarathon 50k race tomorrow, are still fast asleep in their respective rooms, and aside from the odd natter of birds outside and the low hum of the refrigerator, there is a deep peace surrounding me.

I have had near to this experience before. In fact as luck would have it actually quite a few times, yet this is the first time I've felt compelled to write during this kind of moment. And to be honest, the first time in ages that I've felt compelled to write enough to actually publish anything on this blog - despite having more than enough positive or interesting experiences to write about in the past....cough Trail World Champs Race Report cough.

The reason that I'm putting fingers to keyboard now, as opposed to the many other times I probably should have, is due to the aforementioned Tarawera Ultramarathon 50k race I'm taking part in tomorrow, and the history I have with this race and how it's shaped me, shaped my running career, shaped my attitude and led me to be where I am right now. Which right at this moment is sitting in this cottage with a smile on my face and feeling a hint of the fantastic excited nervousness I'm sure a thousand other people in this city are right now.

So jumping back a bit, pretty much three years to the day, early February 2017, there was a similar story in that my family and I set on a road trip to Rotorua in order for me to run my second ever ultramarathon, the what was then 60k race from Lake Okareka to Kawerau.

_{^{2017 race list - with Piper pointing me out}}

While it wasn't my debut ultra, and on paper was a lot easier than the WUU2K I had run 6 months previous to it, this was to be the first ultra I was running in which I had very high hopes of performing well in. Three months earlier, I had enlisted the help of Chan to coach me, with the number one goal of racing well enough to get into the top 5 and be on the podium of one of the most prestigious ultramarathons in New Zealand.

It was a rather lofty goal for me at the time, and with another three years hindsight it seems like I was reaching far beyond anything achievable, but without that north star pointing me forward, I wouldn't be telling this story.

So I'd set a pretty tough goal for myself, and I went about getting as fit and prepared as possible to challenge for that podium in February 2017. I spent three months following my first ever significant mileage training plan, including my first ever 100km week. Which soon became my first ever multiple 100km weeks in a row, running up to 120km in a week including some tough endurance and speed workouts. I'd laid down a very solid base, and then done a couple of epic Sunday runs to get in the big days. As the day to head north came near, I felt as ready for a race as I had ever been, and I was confident that I was going to do well.

However this confidence, and the amount of training that had led to it, bought with it some new challenges I hadn't faced before. I found that I was under a lot of pressure, and was starting to stress that all the effort, sacrifices and time I had put in, had to, just HAD TO, all come together on race day and provide the result I was aiming for.

Otherwise what was the point of any of it.

It was very much a matter of the goal being everything. And the process, while something I knew was important to reach that goal, not being important at all and was something to be disregarded, with all eyes focused on the upcoming race.

On race week, this meant that I was a little bit of an annoying person to be around I'm pretty sure. I mean, I'd not been completely self centered and had actually engineered the week in Rotorua to be as much of a holiday for us as possible, and we all had an amazing time staying by Lake Okareka and doing all the fun things in and around Rotorua. But I had one thing on my mind the whole time we were up here, and I was constantly stressing about this, that and the other. Any spare time was spent going over menial details and swapping my plans here and there and constantly checking with Clare she knew what she was doing to help support me and...yeah it was very much a mindset that was more consuming than it should have been.

_{^{Pre 2017 race antics}}

But, I didn't know that at the time. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought that I was crossing all the t's and dotting all the lower case j's, and being as detail oriented as possible to make sure I performed as much to my ability, if not beyond it. Relaxed was not something I thought I needed to be, and I wasn't. I thought I needed to be amped up and firing, champing at the bit to go.

And then, without much warning and in not so subtle slap to the face from life, I learned the hard way that a lot of what I'd been doing was wrong.

About 12 hours prior to the race start, while preparing to settle down after dinner, I started to feel queasy in my stomach. That queasiness was followed by 10 hours back and forward from the bed and the toilet, as my body dealt with a bout of food poisoning it had picked up from from something inconspicuous yet dodgy I'd eaten earlier in the day.

And with that, my race hopes were over. It was a rather somber and somewhat ironic moment when my last round of vomiting was exactly when my alarm to wake up to get to the race start line went off.

At the time it was understandably devastating, which my other blog post points out in more detail. However throughout the day as I had a lot of time to contemplate things, and even during the night when the sickness was literally flowing through me, I knew that I could choose one of two options in how I could deal with the whole situation.

Either I could let this disaster eat at me, become the worst thing in the world and be shitty at the hand I was dealt for the foreseeable future. Or, I could grieve for a little while, and when ready, reflect back on all the experience that I had gained in the previous three months, particularly the previous week, and learn at least one lesson.

_{^{I tried to run 2017 - pulled out very soon after this was taken - the smile hides a lot of frustration}}

I chose the latter, and I would hope most people would choose that path also. I don't think I'm very special in doing so, but I point it out because it was definitely a choice I feel I had to force myself to take at the time.

So, as I write this post right this moment - a key race less than 24 hours away from starting, it feels as if I absorbed a lot more than just one lesson from that fateful time, and it's a bloody great feeling to know it.

So what am I taking with me into tomorrows race:

The main thing is just feeling ready and not constantly trying to find something else to need to do that will help in the race. I feel I would have twigged to this regardless after another proper training block, as I suspect it's something that has to sink in sooner or later. To put it as simply as any coach will explain, all the work to this point is done, so stressing about anything isn't going to help me get across the line any faster.

I've also learned to get some things sorted in advance, stick with it, and not continually adjust. This leads on from the former point where I would almost fill the gaps during a taper period with busy work or second guessing things that would undo any prior planning. I just have to remind myself in those times, nearly everything in a race is something I've done plenty of times before, I know that I can't plan for everything, just take the known into the race and problem solve if need be.

The main thing I think I learned, and that a debilitating sickness the night before a race can teach you, is that the race is just that - a simple running race. It's nothing more that needs to be put on any special pedestal, no matter the size of the goal or amount prestige attached to it.

Lastly, and one thing I realised I had forgotten with the Tarawera attempt in 2017, is that I do this first and foremost for fun. I race hard and want to win, of course, but I do that because that is where I find the fun also. So, when I often find myself drifting towards the odd bit of anxiety about an upcoming race, including the one due to start tomorrow, I just have to remind myself that it's just a bit of fun. Actually it's more than that - its a hell of a lot of fun. It seems that if I have fun, and I find things will come easy while racing.

And so that's where I am right now.

Yes I'm a little nervous - no ultra is run hard without a little suffering.
And yes I'm excited - I get to mix it up with some top runners on a new course tomorrow.

However;
I am prepared, I'm going to have fun, my family and friends are going to support me, I'm gonna push as hard as I can and see how well I can use all the months of training I have done for this race and, with a little luck, I'll come on the right side of the result I'm after.

Sounds simple. Just sucks it took a bloody dodgy chicken nugget from a gas station to show me that.

_{^{Sunset before race day!}}

Just under a month ago, it was Friday afternoon and I was at work expecting something big to land in my email inbox. The message I was waiting for would have the details either confirming or rejecting my application for selection to the NZ team for the 2019 Trail Running World Champs (TWC) to be held in Portugal in June.

I was besides myself with anticipation and was more anxious than I had been in sometime.

Sure, I had won the selection trial race five months before, had filled in all the paperwork, kept myself healthy and fit, and done all I could to make sure I had ticked all the boxes, but it was a long way from a sure thing.

I was trying to put it all at the back of my mind, by plowing through my work in the mean time to distract myself from my apprehensiveness, but it didn't help that I had a second screen just a peek away, displaying the email client that was to be the bearer of my news once it finally arrived.

And then, a new email arrived. It was from the NZ Athletics High Performance Teams Coordinator! I opened it and scanned as quickly as possible for what would satisfy my craving.

And then I saw that words that, up until a good couple years ago, were not anywhere near something I had considered a possibility of ever reading

"Dear Andrew, Congratulations! I am pleased to advise that you have been selected to compete at the 2019 IAU Trail World Championships on 8 June in Mirandha do Corvo, Portugal.
..."

In a moment I can only compare to crossing the finish line in first place, I threw my hands in the air and let out a big 'WOOOHOO!' in the office, freaking out a couple of co-workers, having to quickly explain the reasons to my spontaneous display of excitement.

I was not the least bit worried about causing a hullaballo however. I had just been chosen to represent New Zealand. Represent MY COUNTRY, in a race halfway across the world, in a sport that I think is just the best damn sport in the world - trail running! On occasion I still find it very hard to fathom but it brings a solid smirk to my face each time I think about it.

_{^{Photo of the Trilhos dos Abutres race by APERSPEED.com}}

And so I was officially on my way to Portugal, which was just as well, as I'd already convinced my family that it was a sure thing, and we had booked our tickets for the race and a European family holiday on the back of it.

The holiday was a key part of getting total buy in on the next 12 weeks of solid training and accompanying lack of family time that was going to occur. It's going to be a cherry on the massive cake to spend 3 solid weeks just relaxing and sightseeing with my loving and supportive wife and kids. The training is already affecting the amount of quality time we get to spend together, so it's great to have something to make it all up afterwards.

Speaking of my training, so far, it's going superb. I'm four weeks into the block starting since the MCL Triple Peaks, and it's gone better than I could have hoped for. I've had a bit of a hip/ITB niggle, which had been slightly frustrating and I was worried it may derail things for a while. But it's amazing the discipline that only a selection to represent your country can give, and by dedicating extra time to focus on not only my running and workouts, but my 'prehab' and daily routine, I've come out the other side of that without having to reduce or miss any training whatsoever.

Another thing that has me completely giddy over the race and trip, is that I'm not the only one from New Zealand heading over to compete. I'm a part of a fairly large team of six men and three women, all of them amazing trail and ultra runners who are going to smash it and I'm just so pumped to join them on the start line in Portugal.

Senior Women:

• Mel Aitken
• Ruth Croft
• Nancy Jiang

Senior Men:

• Sam McCutcheon
• Chris Dunnell
• Paul Timothy
• Tim Rabone
• Will Bell
• Andrew Thompson

With four of us from Wellington, it's an amazing opportunity for us to help each other get ready and train together as we head towards the big day.

_{^{The four Wellington based selections - Mel Aitken, Will Bell, Tim Rabone and myself}}

I'll definitely be writing more about my thoughts leading into the race, as there are so many aspects of this entire escapade that will be worth a blog on their own, and I'd hate to dilute it within one post.

Until next time, keep on living!

A side note:

This blog, as well as being a good way to keep people informed of my journey, is also a way to keep my profile up so it can highlight my small, but incredibly supportive list of sponsors who are helping me get there. You should check them out if you have the chance. I stand by their products or services 100% as they've proven so far to help me get where I am. Thanks so much!

Run Wellington/James Kuegler Coaching - No nonsense coaching providing me with the tools to get to the best of my ability.
Origin Manual Therapy - The best massage therapists in Wellington, hands down!
Kiwi Nutrition - Fantastic tasting protein powder to help me train and recover successfully.

A few weeks back now I was lucky enough to race a superbly put on event in Hawke's Bay, the first time competing in that area since my long gone orienteering days.

The race in question was the MCL Triple Peaks, a 55km trail race, that summits three reasonable sized peaks south of Havelock North, which you reach through a variety of farm tracks, roads, single track and a couple of river crossings.

It's a race that has been around for almost my entire life in some way, shape, or form, and I'd previously considered entering many times in the past. I'd dismissed the race as many times as I'd considered it however, due to the fact it always clashed with other races I'd either already signed up for or preferred to do. One of those being the iconic Tararua Mountain Race, which this year was even on the same day. It was an incredibly tough decision to choose between the two, but after some discussion with my coach and with greater goals in mind, I finally decided on the Triple Peaks.

The defining reason for this choice was the course profile. With the upcoming Trail Running World Champs in Portugal in June being on a relatively fast, non-technical 44km course*, I was keen to test myself in the same scenario, which thankfully the Triple Peaks offered. The fact it was also a new challenge in a part of the country I love to visit, made it a lot easier to turn my back on my beloved Tararuas.

Racing to learn

So it was that upon entering, I'd decided this race was not one I expected to win or had a great fire under me to do so. I was there to see where I was race fitness wise, try a few things and have some fun before starting the last block before Portugal. If I was in a position to take the race, I'd certainly give it a shove, but I love the saying in racing 'you either win or you learn' and regardless of the two results mentioned, I knew it was going to be a blast and I'd get something out of it.

_{^{Stoked to be about to race}}

You may ask what the difference is between my approach to this race and others, and if I'm honest, there isn't much. It is subtle to the point there is not much difference at all. I mean, I still wanted to go out there and give things a good thrash. I had paid the entry fee and was travelling a long way to get to this race, I wasn't going up to lollygag around some farms while other runners gave their best.

A lot of the difference was related to my training surrounding the race and the impact the race could have on my physical and mental state both before and after the race. If I was approaching this as an A goal race, I'd have had a more targeted taper, be much more focused on the result of the day and potentially drive myself into the ground with a decent window of recovery afterwards. All of that was not conducive to a heavily loaded training block, so the plan was to do very little tapering and run the race in such a way that I could start back training almost a fully up to speed straight away.

As it turned out, I ended up having to rest a bit more than expected leading into the race due to a slightly tight ITB that popped into frame 5 days out from the race. I'd done a 25km trail run the Sunday before and felt a bit of a hot spot on my hip. So instead of two out of the five weekdays being rest days, I had three. This proved to be very helpful to my hip settling down, and quietly I was also a little glad that I wasn't going into an ultra race with legs that were overcooked.

Race Day

Despite the slightly relaxed approach to the day, I still had my typical pre-race nerves which accounted for a good fifty percent less sleep than I'd have wanted. I'm so used to sleep before races being a luxury rather than a necessity now, I was able to get over it pretty quick. I tell you though, I'm hanging out hardcore for a race where I get that perfect nights sleep and have zero yawns on the starting line.

_{^{The crowd gathering at the village - Photo by Triple Peaks crew}}

My memories of how I felt that morning were mostly a sense of nervous unpreparedness. I hadn't been into an ultra before without the main goal of trying to win and I'd not hit some of the key physical and mental beats in my training or prep that I had done in all previous races for some time. That was weighing on my mind a little. Was I about to get destroyed and humiliated? I mean, I'm supposed to be the National and Oceanic Trail Running Champion - what if I'm to nothing in this race?

But then I thought about things in totality, and I realised I was letting something minor, about 1% of race prep, overshadow the other 99% of race prep I had actually done and that I'd be fine if I just ran to the plan. Repetitions of that doubt countered with faith in myself would cycle again and again that morning.

The Havelock North Village Green was the race's start, finish and entertainment hub, and when we arrived it was all set up, yet still relatively sedate. With over 700 people competing across all the events, we knew that wasn't about to last, and I was happy to breeze though the non-existent lines for timing chips and toilets and had a moment to just soak in the gathering crowd and get sunscreen applied to the body parts that were exposed, and some lube applied to the body parts that weren't.

Discussing my race plan with Clare, I expressed that I wasn't quite feeling on my game, and that my 5 hour race goal could potentially get to 5 hours 30 minutes. The literal quote I said to her was "I might take it a bit easy and just see how I go".

Of course, as soon as she left and I was standing on the start line with some fit looking competitors, the "take it a bit easy" line and feeling I was "off my game" totally disappeared from my head. Up the front before the gun went was Nick Johnston and Josh Garrett - both previous winners of the event, with Nick also being the champion of multiple high profile ultra races. Standing there with those guys honed my focus immensely and once the gun went off, I was stoked to be underway with 55km of good times, and a little suffering, ahead.

The first peak - Mt Erin

_{^{Me on left of photo - about to kick off - Photo by photos4sale http://photos4sale.co.nz}}

Approximately 11km from the start to the top, with about 500 meters of climb, was the goal of the first peak of Mt Erin.

After a rather unceremonious start I tucked in behind Josh, Nick, and a few other runners who I assumed were relay runners to see what pace they were going to set.

It looked fairly obvious early on the pace was going to be similar to hit the split Nick ran up to Erin last year, 56mins odd, and I knew if I attempted to stay with that I'd not be doing myself any favours later on in the race, so I sat back at a comfortable aerobic pace and soon found myself on my own with no one in sight - in front or behind.

Once on my own it was an opportune chance to concentrate on a few external stimuli.

I noticed how near perfect the conditions were. Very cool in the shade, of which there was plenty due to the sun still being quite low. Only a slight breeze adding to the coolness, but not causing any resistance to my running. A few clouds in the sky, but no chance of rain, and low humidity. I knew that I was going to be finishing around midday in the heat of the day, but if half of my run was at this temperature, then you couldn't ask for better.

The goal was to hit the top of Erin in an hour flat, which would allow me to be fresh enough to keep up the pace in the middle section, and attempt to slam home the final section. The pace and effort I was going at, it was going to be close to spot on.

Once leaving the sealed and gravel roads, my feet hit farm trails. Some were wide muddy cow tracks, made fairly greasy by the overnight rain, while some were harder packed single tracks created by decades of sheep walking along them.

A unique aspect of this race, and one that also drew me into entering, was that the same 55km running race, is shared with a 55km mountain bike race. Initially I was a bit skeptical about how this would all work with running alongside the cyclists. There is enough potential for mishap when you come across the old biker on a local trail during a training run, but I was assured from others who'd done this in the past that it was all fairly straight forward.

It came to be, during the climb up to Erin, I'd caught the the mountain bike back markers and continued to do so for some time, as they had to push or carry their bikes up the muddy and rutted farm paddocks and tracks. I knew that they'd soon be tearing past me, so I made sure not to gloat (too much) as I bounced unladen towards the summit. In fact it was nice to have a lot of them being very supportive, passing out the odd 'nice work' and 'well done' as I went past. I made sure to try repay the favour with the odd 'you too' if it fit between my heavy breathing.

_{^{Getting near the top of Erin past some cyclists - Photo by photos4sale http://photos4sale.co.nz}}

Once at the transmission tower, I was welcomed by a couple dressed in full Scottish regalia, playing drums and bagpipes. The military style empowerment that kind of music imbues lifted me from my top of hill exhaustion, and I charged off down the hill after a quick swig of some water.

And boy did I charge. The track went from fairly steep, to really steep. And the footing was fairly even and quite soft. While I've not really bombed a hill this early in an ultra before, I found it more taxing on my quads to slow myself, so threw a bit of caution to the wind by putting my arms out to the side and letting my legs fly. By having my feet contact the ground as little as possible, I found I was at the bottom and crossing the Tukituki River in no time with amazingly fresh quads considering the speed I went down the hill. It was a massive amount of fun too!

The second peak - Kahuranaki

After the river crossing, I reached the transition area to complete the predetermined tasks of filling my water bottles, taking a few extra drinks and reaffirming to myself that I was going to run this next section just a little harder than the first.

I was a good 5 minutes up on my splits due to my downhill escapades, so I figured I'd roll into the road section that would cool my jets up the next 5km, and then build up the effort as the pitches to the top of Kahuranaki got steeper.

It was all pretty good getting up the hill. Once leaving the road and into the farm that encompassed the brute that was Kahuranaki, some cloud cover appeared with a slightly stronger southerly breeze, which made the south side climb nice and cool. The track was a fairly new one, with a fresh limestone grit under my feet, as I started to put in a bit more work.

The last little bit of this climb took a bit of puffing, and aside from one dude on an e-assisted bike, all the cyclists were pushing or carrying. I had only seen a couple of other runners this leg. One being from my race who I passed along the road before the farm, and the other being from the single hill race who started 2 mins after me at the transition. I caught that dude again soon while powering up the hill.

_{^{Flying into the top of Kahuranaki - Photo by photos4sale http://photos4sale.co.nz}}

At the top I made the first, and probably only mistake of the race, so good to note it. I felt really good hitting the top having just put in a solid effort and thought to myself 'sweet, it's just down the hill to the transition where I can fill up with water again' - in my head I had it at about 30 mins.

Unfortunately, I both misjudged the fact that the clouds had burnt off by now, and that I'm obviously a goober, because it was always going to be at least 50-55mins. Even my splits I'd written down said that, but I didn't look at them and I rushed the water stop, only filling half a bottle, about 300mls.

The views up the top of Kahuranaki were impressive, you could see for an age in every direction, which was when I realised my mistake. I could see down towards the transition point at the river, and saw how far away it actually was. I was definitely going to be running a dry near the end of this leg. Whoops.

At this point, to add to my issues, the legs started to gelatinise somewhat, becoming a touch wobbly and tired as I attempted to bound down the hill. Of course, it was halfway into the race, so it was somewhat expected. There is always a point where your legs are supposed to start complaining. But it just added to an extra reason to complain, alongside other additions of the sun absolutely cranking and being sent down a lot of the hill on untracked farmland, removing any semblance of flow in my running.

_{^{Leaving bikers in my dust heading to the top of Kahuranaki - Photo by photos4sale http://photos4sale.co.nz}}

All of that combined, by the time I hit the farm road section back to the transition, still 20 mins out, I was tapped out of water and feeling a bit grumpy with things. I wanted to get some food down but was worried it wouldn't sit well without any water to go with it. Five minutes past when I was due to eat I decided that food then was better than food later. I figured risking some nausea was was the lesser of two evils.

Thankfully, my stress was unwarrented, as the gel went down easy and stayed down easy. I felt slightly boosted by the sweet taste in my mouth and pushed the 3km's towards the transition, where copious amounts of cool water waited for me upon arrival.

Two of the leading single peak runners, including the guy that I'd tussled with up the hill earlier, caught me up five minutes from transition - which was also the race finish for them. The fella I'd run with earlier was in second by a hundred meters and expressed a little dismay about being pipped so close to the finish. I tried to give him enough encouragement to catch the guy just in front, as I know what it's like when you're in the hurt locker and the other guy is started to gap you right at the end. I didn't quite get to see how it all played out, but I hope he gave it a good shove.

The third peak - Te Mata Peak

After doing the right thing, and taking my time in the transition, rehydrating, filling my water and taking a few seconds to think about what I had left to do, I was back crossing the Tukituki River and heading north, towards the base of Te Mata Peak, the final climb.

The sun was really cranking now. My shoes were still sodden from the river and with the weight of the full water bottles bouncing around, it made it really difficult to get into my work smoothly across the farmland. I also had the bane of a runners existence pop into the frame, the dreaded 'stone in the shoe'.

I tried to run on that stone for a couple of k, attempting to manipulate it to the side or front by contorting my feet as I ran, but it wasn't having it. It was a persistant little bugger right where I felt it worst, so ultimately I had to stop on the side of the track to remove the lump of annoyance for a minute or two.

All of this had me in a little bit of a grump. I was feeling heaps better in my legs than I did going down the hill, and I had wanted to start to wind things up a little along the road to the base of Te Mata, but I just found I was hindered constantly by things like knobbly farmland, the stone in my shoe, my race pack bouncing too much or just feeling like I was sweating bullets due to the sun.

Thankfully relief soon came in the forms of a sealed road that had partial shade, and a relay runner that caught me up. He was moving fairly well, and we started chatting as he went to move past. I was able to soon forget about my issues and just concentrate on moving with him, and I soon found my rythym again, and was back at a reasonable tick along the road.

This mode continued all the way until the left jank into farmland that would take us to the track network within Te Mata park. There was a steep farm road uphill, which I found quite a nice change from the flat running of the last 5kms. However, attempting to keep pushing on the slight downhill on the other side, I found my legs were really not in the mood. It took a lot of effort to not have them buckle on the strides, so I had to focus on relaxing and just holding out till that disappeared.

Turning into the redwoods of Te Mata park, the shade and change in scenery from the farmland snapped me out of the wibble wobbles and I found a steely determination that was missing from the last couple of hours. I told myself, 'You're running up the entire hill, don't even bother to walk', and that's exactly what I did. And to my bewildering surprise, I actually felt great as I got into a rhythm going up. It was such a rad track, basically a goat track stuck on the side of Te Mata that went straight up, and the steps were the perfect gradient for my legs to just keep tip tapping up them all the way to the summit.

_{^{The last peak, Te Mata - amping to be up there - Photo by photos4sale http://photos4sale.co.nz}}

Soon enough, I breached the top and had my last gel and a drink of water from the station at the top. The marshals up the top were pumping me up about getting down the hill to the finish, and I was happy to oblige as I set off down the road. My legs had a slightly different idea, as I found the power I wanted was not there at all. It was almost like those dreams you have where you need to run, yet you stay in the same spot. It took a lot more effort than I really wanted to get moving and when I looked at my watch, I was ten minutes down on what I thought I might be at that point, so I just had to grit my teeth and force as much out of my body as possible.

At the lower carpark, I was directed down the next section of trail, which turned out to be downhill mountain bike track, one that runners and walkers are normally told to stay away from. As I saw the cyclists who'd just shot past me on the road hit the track and cane down it at clip, I was a bit nervous about how my tired body could handle both getting down the technical parts of it, and dealing with a bike coming at the back of my head at speed. In the end I only had to deal with a couple of bikes while on that section, and while it was tricky, it did take my mind off how I felt while I descended as fast as possible to get into the double wide section in the valley that took us out to the Havelock North roads.

The Finish - Havelock North Village Green

As I dragged my ever complaining body along the last few kilometers of road, I was starting to think about seeing the family again. I knew I wasn't too far off my goal time of 5 hours, so they'd not be bored or annoyed I hadn't finished yet, and they'd be waiting there to see me come in. I also knew that my Grandad, who had just turned 90, would be there as well. He doesn't get around very easily these days, but he lives just up the road and was stoked when I mentioned I was racing this event. Being a rural Hawke's Bay man his whole life, he'd talked to me a lot about the hills I was running up prior to the race, painting a picture of the views I'd get to enjoy that he used to as a kid and giving me the low down on the terrain I'd be crossing.

I love how the end sections of the race give you those moments, when you're really hurting and knackered, yet still have that last little bit you need to give. It's the thoughts of the finish line, and what is there waiting for you, be it family, or food, or water, or beer. Or all of that and more. It's those thoughts that sweep the pain and suffering aside for those last few minutes to propel you all the way to the finish.

I had no idea where I was placed, but I didn't care, I was close to my goal time, I had come through the event injury free, and was finishing feeling strong.

Rounding the final turn into the finish, I heard my youngest daughter Piper yell out 'Dad!' and was over the moon to see my Clare and girls waiting at the end of the finish chute. I powered in, activated my timing chip and made sure to head right towards Piper to grab her and give her a sweaty hug. She says she hates it, but she doesn't complain too much ;)

Clare told me I was in third place. Boom. Very happy with that. Watch stopped at 5.06. I'll take it. Free Beer and a sit down. I'll take that too.

A few seconds after sitting down my Grandad pottered on over. He'd seen me finish from the side of the chute, which I missed as I came in. But we spent a few minutes talking about the course and the areas I'd been over, and as I mentioned certain places and roads that I'd covered, I could see him get a real lift, as his eye's lit up and and we kept chatting until I actually had to lie down on the grass.

_{^{The kids with their Great Grandad and buggered dad Happy to see me}}

Takeaways from the race

As mentioned at the top of the blog, this was a race to learn from as much as race in. With the World Champs following a similar course profile, I wanted to see how a few things went gear and nutrition wise, and adjust some things I'd done in races last year, ever so slightly.

The main takeaway I had was I need to stop stones getting in my shoe! I lost a good couple of minutes due to that. Unfortunately not sure how I can solve that easily without ankle gaiters, which would have been too hot and mostly pointless in that race, and are in fact too hot and unnessecary in most races. I could look at some other options, but I possibly just need to deal with it as the problem comes.

Another problem that seemed to slow me down was, after filling my two bottles, I had to deal with them jumping around in the front pockets way too much as I ran. It was the first time testing this vest in a race situation, and I guess in my practice runs I'd either run a bit slower, or actually had some gear in the backpack part of the vest. Without a full compliment of compulsory gear in the back, the heavily laden front had nothing to counter balance. It put me off my running flow at a time I really needed to just feel calm and run smooth, and as such I think it affected me more than it should have.

The last thing constructive I found I need to work on is my leg strength. Some of those downhills and flat sections, I was more wobbly than I needed to be, and I reckon just a few gym sessions a week should sort that.

All over though, the race went really well. I was stoked with third place, and reckon if it was a goal race, I'd have tried to bury myself a bit more in the latter section and I know I had it there. My climb up Te Mata was very satisfying, to be able to power up that hill so late on a hot day is a massive takeaway to the next race I do.

If you ever get the chance to do this race, I can only recommend it fully. It's fast for a trail ultra, with some sweeping views of Hawke's Bay and the race village is so well set up, everyone including the kids are well catered for.

Cheers Triple Peaks!

Gear

What I wore:
OR Running cap (ripped and worn out)
Julbo Aero Sunnies
Olympic Harriers Singlet
New Balance tight shorts (for the ladies)
Drymax Trail Socks
Saucony Peregrine 7 trail shoes

Mandatory Gear:
There was none! Just my Compressport vest for carrying water.

Nutrition & Hydration:
4x Leppin
4x Gu Roctane Cherry Lime
Saltstick Chews
Water

_{^{My splits vs my expected splits}}

* I didn't know at this point whether I was in the NZ Team or not, but I was making an assumption I had a good chance of it. Turns out - it was a well placed assumption.

It's funny how your motivation can turn on a dime. This happened to me just this past day or two with regards to the impending A100 race, which kicks off tomorrow.

The recent victory at the Crater Rim Ultra was a culmination of a lot of physical and mental effort. So much so that, compared to previous races, it's taken a long time to decompress from all of it, and in some ways, I still haven't completely.

With the fact I trained and raced my guts out for that event, added with the knowledge that I'm likely to be putting in a massive training block for the World Champs next year, I took a deserved holiday. My brain had completely checked out with any thought of racing as I was just keen to eat a lot of crap food, drink a few brews here and there, and disturb my usual rigorous sleep patterns to get some TV shows or movies in.

However, my lackadaisical current self had forgotten what my overeager past self had done, which was entered a multi-day stage race that occurred only three weeks after the Crater Rim Ultra. Past self was a bit miscalculating, as for some reason I thought there was an extra week in the middle there when I entered one or the other (I can't recall which I entered first), and so past self thought I had more time to recover. Past self had legs bigger than it's belly.

While I was in decompression/donut/beers/netflix mode of the last few weeks, I started to become well aware how close the A100 race actually was, and suffice to say, motivation to bother turning up to the start line was pretty low.

_{^{How I felt after a few weeks of indulgence}}

I started running through my options;

• Racing for the win over the full three days
• Toeing the line, but just rolling through on cruise mode, and enjoying the course at low revs
• Doing just the second day, the Aorangi Undulator
• Not running at all, but helping out and marshaling with some mates
• Not even getting involved and spending the weekend at home with my family

There were good reasons for doing all of these, but as I worked back from the most lazy scenario, I found reasons not to also;

Not even getting involved and spending the weekend at home with my family

I checked with the kids and wife on this one, and was told I should at least do something. They agreed that I'd already taken the time off work and was fit and healthy, so no point hanging about home. I'm pretty sure they'll miss me, but they acted like they wouldn't....

Not running at all, but helping out and marshaling with some mates

I do like giving back to races I have an affinity for. I've marshaled at a few races, most recently the Mukamuka Munter, and it's a rewarding experience. You get yourself into the bush with a bit more gear and food than usual, park up, maybe set up some markers etc, and then wait. Once the runners start coming through, you get to see who's in front and cheer everyone on with the odd high-five.
There was also the added temptation of some off track bush bashing with a good mate of mine the day before, followed by a night in Pararaki Hut - a lovely hut I've stayed in before and really enjoyed.
Now that I think about it, I'm not sure why I decided against this option....

_{^{Tom and Glen hoofing up the valley in the Mukamuka Munter while I marshaled}}

Doing just the second day, the Aorangi Undulator

This was the 'I don't think my body is quite up for 3 days of running' option.
I do love the Undulator race. It's tough, suits my skill set and there are some bloody fast buggers racing it.
But then again, I'd be doing it if I do the A100 anyway as it's part of day two. And I'm not primed for racing that event on it's own, I just don't feel as prepared as I would want to be. I could see a high potential for feeling a bit disappointed with my effort on it, as I have some arbitrary time goals I'd like to hit on that one some day.
I'll put that idea aside for next year.

Toeing the line, but just rolling through on cruise mode, and enjoying the course at low revs

Again, a very tempting option here. There are some bloody good buggers I know I could keep up with rather easily a bit further back in the pack. Spending some time adventuring with them and having yarns would have been a great time. I'd also have the added benefit of not destroying my body as much, and not have the pressure to be stressed about all the little details.
However, right this moment, I just don't think I'm wired that way. I ran in a Park run the other day and stayed in the rear guard with a friend. I found it a lot harder than I thought I would to hold back on the gas. I was always wanting to speed up and pass the next person in front of us. In a race like this, where I tied last year, it would be impossible to not try go for the win, so there was no way this option was going to happen, and ultimately I would have to choose the original plan..

_{^{The A100 competitors before the 2017 day 1 start}}

Racing for the win over the full three days.

As soon as I got back to this option, it was all on. I found my mojo for wanting to race again and I was set on preparing for an epic three days of racing.

So why am I so drawn to this race?

To me, the appeal of this race is multi-faceted, but a lot of what has me returning with great enthusiasm this year stems from my first experience with the race last year.

It was in the 2017 undertaking of the race that I first raced against a guy called Simon Wills. We'd never competed against each other before, but going into the race, I'm pretty sure we both knew the other would be the main competition over the three days. It was apparent very early on that Simon was going to be tough, as we were in lock step for about the first 30k from the start gun. That was despite my best efforts to shake him up the Orongorongo river.
It wasn't until just after the climb on the first day we were significantly separated, as I annoyingly slipped on a wet rock going down the Mukamuka valley, which caused my surprisingly fatigued muscles to cramp all over. I had to give my body a bit of a rest as I eased back into running down the rough as guts valley, but in the mean time, Simon had taken off and he finished the day 8 minutes up on me.

_{^{Simon charging into the finish on Day 1
Me struggling into the finish on Day 1}}

Skipping through a bunch of details from the next two days, I ended up finishing day 2 (the Undulator) ahead of Simon, taking six minutes out of the lead, setting myself the requirement of needing to finish over two minutes ahead of him on day three. However, as much as I thought I'd put that gap on him easy as I crossed the finish line at the Waikuku lodge, two minutes later, Simon comes screaming up the hill over the line, and we ended up in a tie.

While I was absolutely stoked with the result and proud to have my name on the trophy alongside a great athlete, it just hasn't quite sat right all this year.

So I am returning to the 2018 contest with the desire to claim the top podium spot by myself, as I have been assured that the seconds will be recorded this year to remove the possibility of a similar occurrence.

_{^{The start of Day 3, I had to get out in front and make it stick}}

Competition aside however, there is a lot more to the race I'm looking forward to.

The fact it's three days of racing with the same people, you get to spend some time before and after each day having yarns and sharing war stories with both people you know well, and people you've just met. You find out a lot about people between each race, it's funny how fatigue can break down barriers like that. There is just a great sense that, regardless of the results, we're all doing this together for a good time.

Not to mention the variety of areas that you travel through and the terrain under your feet. There is nearly everything that a classic NZ trail race could throw at you;

• Flat, wild coast roads
• Untracked river valleys with plenty of crossings
• Gnarly tramping tracks
• Rugged gorges
• Steep 4WD roads
• lots, lots more...

_{^{All smiles at the start of Day 3}}

It's brutal, but it's fun. Which is exactly the kind of thing I'm into. And opposed to a few days ago, I'm really looking forward to getting out there and experiencing it once more.

If you want to know about more about the race, head to the website or check out this fantastic blog by the 2015 Champion (and course record holder) Tim Sutton
http://nztrailrun.com/a100-definitely-not-weak/

Jeez, as I write this race report, I've just realised it has been a LONG time between my last race report and now. Almost two years in fact. Hopefully the events that transpired this weekend spark a renewed interest in my racing and training blog posts, as currently I feel a huge amount of inspiration to put my thoughts into words.

In my head I have a lot of interesting topics knocking about I'd love to dig into right now, particularly on some aspects of my training that have lead me to this race, but the topic of today is going to be purely a race report.

A race report about the time I became a national champion.

Boy, it sure feels cool to write that.

The Preamble

I found out not long after the WUU2K 2017, that Athletics New Zealand were hunting around for an event to use as a national championship for trail ultra running. The event would serve as both a national champs for that format as well as a selection for the ITRA world champs, which they had been sending athletes to for a couple of years already based off non-sanctioned results. To many, melding the bureaucracy of Athletics NZ with the accessible and carefree nature of trail running events may seem like a clash of ideologies, however I don't see it that way. To me, it represented the perfect goal to aim for. The chance to represent my local athletics club in a race format I love far more than any other, i.e. smashing myself over some hills and trails for a few hours, with the hugely enticing carrot of potential national selection for the world champs hanging out there also.

I was initially hopeful that the WUU2K itself would be selected to host the event, there were the odd mention of this happening, with me knowing the course so well and having the ability to train on it benefiting me greatly. But ultimately it was the Port Hills Athletics club and the Crater Rim Ultra that were successful in hosting the champs, and as soon as the entries were open, I was in and the preparation began.

_{^{Views from the crater rim trail over Lyttleton Harbour}}

The Training block

I'll say a bit more about this in another blog post, just because the insights I've aquired during the months before this event are quite numerous. Suffice it to say, the training block leading into this event was both the most consistent I have trained and the most fun I've had while doing it. I felt completely weaponised by the time I began the taper and was pumped as to be going into a race so dialed in.

_{^{On the crater rim trail during a reccie run in the week leading up to the race}}

The week before

Something I am very conscious of, is that I've always run much better in trail races the second time I run them. There is no substitute for actually getting out on the track and seeing for yourself what it is like. I had initially contemplated flying down to run the whole thing during training, which would have been costly and time consuming. And while that was temping, I also figured having a few shortish runs over various sections during my taper would have to be the next best thing.

Thankfully, due to a couple of things lining up, I was able to do just that, while spending the week prior to the event in Christchurch with my family. The NZ Road Relay Champs were the weekend before and as I'd never participated in that event before, I headed down to join my Olympic Harrier team mates. Add to that the bonus of the Crater Rim race being at the end of the school holidays, it was the perfect opportunity for a family holiday that allowed me to not only relax away from the stresses of work, but also give me the time to do some course reconnaissance.

Gratefully, I got some advice from a local trail runner, Andy Good, who selflessly passed on info about sections I'd want to check out to get a feel for the terrain. I ended up covering about 30% of the course, including the full 10km from Sign of the Kiwi to the finish, which as I'll mention later, was the decision made that I think helped more than any.

Of course it wasn't all just running and preparing. The family and I had a great time in hot pools, jet boating, visiting old leper colonies, checking out some gorillas, walking the quake city, and just hanging out doing puzzles and reading books. It was really neat.

_{^{Fun times on the water with the family}}

The morning of

Despite my best efforts to remain calm and get as much sleep as possible, my internal systems had other ideas. Initially, I did feel very calm and actually got to sleep relatively easily thanks to a rather pulpy Jack Reacher novel. He certainly does get into a fair few fisticuffs old Jack does. Unfortunately, a couple of hours later I woke just after midnight, and boom - the head was off racing long before I needed to be at the start line. Regardless of any relaxation I tried, I couldn't get back to sleep.

Once I hit my 'official' wake up time of 4am, I got myself dressed, fed, caffeinated, lubed up and out the door quietly. Only to have a false start in the Uber that picked me up when, just around the corner from my accommodation, we were pulled over by the police flashing their disco lights. The officer was looking for a suspect who'd done a runner from another taxi, so I had to explain to him that, "yes I am a runner, but I wouldn't do a runner if you know what I mean". We all had a bit of a laugh and went on our merry way.

A short drive later, and I arrived to meet the crowds gathering at Hansen Park, the eventual finish line of the race. It was a great time to have a few yarns with some random locals and eventually catch up with some old mates from Wellington and Auckland who I was sure I'd be running with for at least part of the race. Much was spoken about our preparation and we were all fizzing to get to the start line and have a good blat.

From there it was a bus ride, a ferry trip, a walk and soon over one hundred eager trail runners were at the Diamond Harbour rugby club rooms, awaiting the start with an energy that was just quietly bubbling away.

_{^{Getting prepped - Photo by Shaun Denholm http://shaundenholmphotography.co.nz}}

I then made a deliberate decision to move myself away from some fellow competitors I'd been chatting to for the last three quarters of an hour, to sit on my own and get myself sussed for the start. I pulled out my trusty iPod, popped in the earbuds, repeating my race plan to myself while some lush tunes flowed through me and watched the clouds start to colourise as the sky started to lighten. I recall quite vividly that at this moment, I felt amazingly content. Something I kept going over in my head were the messages of support that I'd been sent by friends in the previous days. It was just so rad that to know that not only were they thinking of me, but they took the time to send some encouragement my way. A particular message from my training buddy, Greg Clark, in which he said "Your preparations have been unrivaled...You are prime for this now...Gonna be a big day for ya!!" stuck with me the most, and as I moseyed on down to the start line, it was all I could think about.

_{^{Start line antics - Photo by Shaun Denholm http://shaundenholmphotography.co.nz}}

The climb

I do love a good run around a grass field, and it was cool to have the start of this race kick off in that way. As the gun went, all the competitors did a lap of the rugby ground before heading out onto the road leading up to the track to Mt Herbert. Of course there is always one guy who kicks off in a sprint, great entertainment that stuff, but aside from that guy, I was up the front with a bunch of about 15 runners all taking it relatively easily as we started up the road leading to the trails.

Once we got off the road and hit the poled route, I'd fallen back a bit as there was a downhill leading into the trail and I didn't go with the masses pounding it out so early. I had a bit of fun here as we reached some fence crossing styles, but I decided to use some old orienteering fence jumping techniques to avoid the lines. It didn't take long until we started heading up the hill in which I found my way back to the front again. The legitimate front of the race this time, as we'd pulled in the glory seeker who sprinted off at the start and started to get into our work.

And this is where the race began for me, about 3km in. I hadn't gone out hard at all so the tank was still very full. There was now a decent spread starting to occur and I was in a small group up the front with Nancy Jiang, Tom Hunt, Will Bell, Grant Guise and Tim Rabone. All of which I knew would be very tough to beat, but I knew I had to ignore the external factors as much as possible and just focus on my own race and get into my work, which is always easier said than done during the excitement of the early sections. Luckily for me, I know I'm an uphill specialist. I've beaten some very good runners up hills and I feel so comfortable on any gradient. I reminded myself that if I didn't feel like I was exerting myself too much, and I could keep pace with these guys up the hill, by the time we got to the top I should have spent less energy than them getting to the same place. Whether or not that would actually be the case, time would tell. It was the plan I stuck with and soon it was just Will and I enjoying the stunning views of the harbour as we pushed out ahead and into the icy cold wind.

And hooooo boy, was it cold.

My decision to start with my jacket on over my race singlet turned out to be exactly what was required as the wind whipped up nearer the top. We started running past pockets of snow that had fallen a few days before and we were just below the cloud, both of us increasing the gap on the chasers as we moved out of sight of them once we got in the cloud.

Just below the summit of Mt Herbert, I was tucked in behind Will, and decided to make a move on him up the last steep pinch. There was a 'race within a race' offered to the King and Queen of the Mountain, ie the first man and woman to reach the summit. I decided that since I was within striking distance of claiming that, I'd make the effort to take it and did just that. It was a good feeling to get something out of the day already, now all I had to do to claim that prize was finish the race!

At this point I have to give massive kudos and respect to the brave marshals that were up the top there. Not only were they dealing with freezing winds, but were they stuck in low vis cloud so couldn't even get to enjoy the views. Hats off to them.

The descent

As I suspected would happen, no sooner had I rolled over the top of the summit, Will streaked past me at a rate of knots and disappeared into the misty cloud in no time.

Should I chase? Nahhhh. I needed to let my legs settle down from that last push, and also it was time to have some food and water - which was tricky to do so on the rocky descent without slowing a little. Once I was all set after that brief interruption to pushing, I got back to work again down the hill and it was good to be running completely on my own.

This part of the course was really fun. It was a rather rocky, muddy, gorse filled technical downhill on the side of Mt Bradley, as you drop down to Packhorse Hut. It reminded me a lot of one of my favourite local downhills that's a section off the side of Crows Nest on the Wellington Skyline trail. I felt right at home keeping the effort up on this section, blaming it through the mud and rocks.

As I popped out of the clouds I could see Will up ahead and did a time check. About a minute thirty behind. Cool, no stress, keep on working.

The next section from Packhorse Hut to Gebbies Pass could only be described as lush. Most of it was downhill, either on brilliantly cambered dirt single track or on soft buttery pine forest tracks carpeted with lovely soft pine needles. It was all very enjoyable at this point, body felt good, weather warm enough to be running in a singlet, in second place but not by much. Good times.

_{^{Finding my groove up the hills - Photo by Shaun Denholm http://shaundenholmphotography.co.nz}}

The slip back

As I arrived at the Gebbies Pass aid station (20km), and stopped to fill a couple of bottles, I spotted Grant Guise and Tim Rabone running together closing in on me. They then dragged me in completely a few minutes later. This was due to missing a marker and continuing 20-30 meters needlessly up a hill on an open farm section, and as I stopped to look around because I felt like I was obviously in the wrong place, they yelled out and pointed where I should be going and we were then running side by side.

The next couple of kilometers was a really integral part of this race.

My mood threatened to be very bad at this point. I was now in 4th, I had just made a bit of a mistake by going off the course a smidge and wasting energy I didn't need to up a hill plus I thought I was running really well, yet here I was, actually slipping in the ranking. Bugger.

Doubt definitely crept in to my head slightly and in hindsight, I'm surprised I didn't descend into a pit of self disappear, with the magical mystery of the brain to body connection, having the mood affect my speed and cause me to fall off the pace.

_{^{Tim and Grant on the chase - Photo by Shaun Denholm http://shaundenholmphotography.co.nz}}

I tucked in behind Grant and Tim, exchanged a bit of banter which took my mind off racing for a little while, and then after paying them back for pointing me in the right direction by shepherding them through a gate, I reset my mood and reminded myself both that the race wasn't even half way done yet and I should have confidence in myself and my training.

At the same time I was getting back into my mental groove, additional aid arrived in the form of an outrageously steep climb up to Summit Road and beyond onto the Waibls Track. It's the sort of hill that is a little obscene in how heinously steep it is, and it's just those sorts of hills I like to teach a lesson, so that's what I did. Feeling strong, I went to work up the hill - power hiking where it was more efficient, running where it wasn't. I didn't intentionally make a move here to drop the other two, but that is what happened and soon I was back in second place with a reasonable gap between me and the others. Reaching the top of the hill, attention on what was behind switched, and was now focused on what was in front. I had no idea how far ahead Will was by now. I assumed it was at least three or four minutes, but I was feeling solid and again that word confidence popped into my head as I knew I had the ability to keep going at my current pace and just stick to my plan.

Also during this section was the first point in the race where the course crossed paths with roads fairly regularly, and with the roads came supporters. It was so rad to get heaps of cheers and support from so many people, including Will and Tim's partners who were out there supporting them. Just so cool.

_{^{Finding something to smile about - Photo by Shaun Denholm http://shaundenholmphotography.co.nz}}

The up and down out and back

Heading onto the Crater Rim track, soon enough I hit some trails that I knew, having cruised around this area a week earlier. My recon had uncovered the surprisingly technical nature of the trail, particularly the track that sidled under the radome on Cass Peak. I'd made plenty of mental notes on how to attack the more complicated bits, and was stoked to be able to employ those maneuvers during the race as it allowed me to focus more on my effort rather than stress about where to put my feet.

At around 30km, After popping onto the road briefly before starting a sidle around Mt Ada, I passed one of many back markers from the Bellbird Buster - the 30km race which started part way through our race. She gave me encouragement as I went by, but appended the comment "He's fifteen minutes ahead". I said thanks as I continued on, but in my head I was saying "WHAT!? FIFTEEN MINUTES".

Not sure I fully believed her, but I did have to consider what I was going to do at this point, being over 50% through the race, with the easiest third of the course still to come. I came to the conclusion that there was no point changing the plan. If I was to try speed up and chase a 15 min gap at this point, blowing up was a possibility. My race plan was to get to the bottom of Kennedy's Bush track about 5km away in decent enough shape to give it all from there, so I put aside any worry of coming second to Will again this year, and kept on keeping on to the top of of Kennedy's Bush. Besides, this section was an out and back, and I'd know very soon exactly how far I was behind.

I'd also been over this part a week previous, so I knew what to expect. It's a wide 4WD road, with a few bumps here and there, but fairly flat and fast underfoot as it descends 300 meters over about 3km. In hindsight, this was one part of the race that I feel I held back on perhaps a bit too much. My memory is that my legs were rather toasted, and I was worried that if I put any extra effort in, that I'd find pulling the trigger on the uphill a very tough task, so I tried to let gravity do a lot of the work as I just kept my legs turning over as efficiently as possible.

Regardless of my pace, I had soon spotted a sight for sore legs among the 30km back markers ahead of me, the sight of the fabulous blue colour of a Wellington Harriers singlet, worn by my nemesis, the one and only Will! And not running up the hill towards me after the turn around as I expected to see him, he was still going down. I immediately did a time check, one minute ten seconds for me to reach where he was. I was in the race!

I made a choice here to not speed up to try catch Will for a couple of reasons. First off, I had to stick to my plan of saving legs for the uphill. Secondly, I wanted to know if he was slowing down or not.
On the second time check just before the turn around, fifty seconds. He was slowing. Oh boy, I was definitely in here.

As I got nearer the turn around, Will was coming back up and we both high-fived as we passed each other. I had no idea of the issues that were ultimately causing Will to slow down, so at this point I figured we were both just having good races and that we had a good battle ahead of us all the way to the finish. Regardless of the outcome now, I was very pleased to be in a position to contend for the win.

No sooner had I started up the hill to begin my chase in earnest, I was suddenly enlightened to the fact there were more people in this race than just Will and I. A bunch of other 52km runners were being drip fed down the hill the opposite way. And worryingly, some were looking very swift indeed. It turned out that Tim and Grant had been passed by a local, Tim Wright, and a Tahitian runner, Lubin Thomas. None of whom were hanging about at all.

The race was very much on, time to execute the next phase.

_{^{Will leading the charge - Photo by Shaun Denholm http://shaundenholmphotography.co.nz}}

The push to the end

With two thirds of the race done, I was now able to remove any limits I'd imposed on my effort up until then and start burning all the matches. I'd, strangely enough, really been looking forward to this moment the whole race. If only to have a change up in the mental state from "Don't run too fast" to "Ignore the pain, run faster".

I decided to ask my body how it felt. I went into a slightly higher gear to test if I could push that much until the end. After a couple minutes I didn't notice any issues aside from more exertion, so I asked a little bit more. I think I found the sweet spot fairly soon and while I could feel more push back from my body as I was working everything that much harder, it wasn't long until that became the new normal and I was now charging back up Kennedy's Bush track.

About halfway up the hill, I caught Will. It wasn't the moment of glory I thought it may be, as unfortunately he had stopped to deal with a shoelace that had gone rogue. We both ran together for a little while but once we started to hit another steep section, I kept up the effort and was soon able to move clearly in front to the point where I couldn't see him over my shoulder once I reached Summit Rd.

Heading over the fence style here, I had two realisations. First was "Holy moly, I am currently winning. That's super rad!". Second, however, was that I was actually feeling rather rooted.
As the next section had wee downhill, I found it quite hard to go as fast down as I wanted due to my muscles being fatigued, in pain and not wanting to balance like they normally would. It was time to dig into some mantras and self talk.

Of course there are the classics;

"You have done the work." "You have one chance, take it." "Pain is temporary."

etc

But I had a couple others;

"Once more into the fray..." "Custard squares and chocolate milk are waiting at the end." "Everything is awesome."

From this point on, I was repeatedly reminding myself that, regardless of how I felt here, everyone else in the race is likely feeling the same. So the key was to just keep pushing, feel crap for a while, get to the finish line and the glory, and worry about the pain later.

And that is pretty much how the race unfolded, at least as far as I could see in front of me. I only saw on the Strava flybys after the fact, that Tim Wright had at one point closed within 20-30 seconds of me. Pretty much on the other side of the road at the Sign of the Kiwi cafe. Had I known he was there, I'm not sure I would have run as well as I did in the 5km from there to the top of the Rapaki track.

_{^{Where's the aid station? Photo by random guy I met after race}}

Thankfully, again as I saw on the Strava flyby, I was able to consistently increase the gap on Tim all the way to the finish. I had run this last 10km only a few days before, and I knew that there were absolutely no demons in it. All the climbs, even the steep ones, were very short and sweet so no point power hiking. This was very fortunate also as I was getting flutters of cramp in my calf muscles around here, yet with not stressing about what was in front of me, and the track being rather straightforward technically, I was able to keep up the effort, but in an efficient and relaxed manner.

Once I hit the Rapaki Track, I was able to look behind me a fair distance, so looked to see if I could spot any competitors. The closest person I could see was a couple minutes back but with all the other races filling the trails along this section, it was impossible to tell who may be in my race close to me, so I made the call to not bother looking behind again until the finish. The rest of the course was less than a park run down a hill on gravel then tar seal road, I just had to gun it. Quads, do your thing.

As I was pounding down the hill, with the finish marquee in sight a few k's away, I checked my pace on my watch for the first time. As I read the display, a massive shot of adrenaline went through me. I was going at 3:40 per km and after some quick, rough calculations realised that for someone to catch me, they'd need to be doing some near impossible speeds. Even knowing that, I tried to pick up the pace even more.

The finish line

The next 10 or so minutes down the Rapaki track was a case of ignoring the growing negative feedback from my body to move as fast as I could. I jinked left onto Centaurus Rd, across that and onto the river trail and eyed up the bridge. As soon as I was over that bridge, I knew I'd done it. I hadn't finished yet, there was still a good eight hundred meters to go, but with how pumped I was, I was knew no one was going to out kick me.

_{^{Gritting it until the end - I had to outsprint my daughter ;) - Photo by Shaun Denholm http://shaundenholmphotography.co.nz}}

Rounding the field, I was looking out for my wife and kids. My girls are thankfully quite predictable, and knowing there was a decent playground next to the finishing straight, I was damn sure I'd spot them having fun there while they waited for me to finish. And sure enough, they were there, extracting themselves from the swings and see-saws to join me on the field.

I was hoping to run in with them, but as I reached out to both, they yelled out "Ewww no you're sweaty" and ran a good meter to the side of me. The cheek! Instead of slowing momentum to be really horrible and giving them a bear hug, I just keep powering towards the finish line.

Meters short of crossing the tape, I let the emotion pour out. When you dream about winning big races, you see this moment in your head a lot. To actually experience it, I'm a little lost for words.

All the planning, training, time, effort, sacrifices, ups, downs, and support. All of it compressed into the last few moments of that race bursting from you. I'm not sure I'll ever experience anything like that again, but I'm just insanely grateful that I was able to.

Jumping over the finish line, I was finished, but not done. I saw my wife and the last thing I had to do was to thank her for the unwavering support she had given me in all my training. Of course the only way to do that was to give the biggest, sweatiest, hug I could muster.

_{^{So pumped - Photo by Shaun Denholm http://shaundenholmphotography.co.nz}}

The afterglow

I'd only just got off the finish line when 3 minutes later, Tim Wright came in for second position. He had a fantastic run and I am so thankful that I didn't let up in the last 10k or it would have been a tough race to close out. Not long after Lubin Thomas came in for third, and then the rest of the field started to filter in also. Fantastic runs by so many great competitors. Was stoked to see the other Wellingtonians, Tim Rabone and Will Bell come in soon also. Will had a bugger of a day after the Kennedy's Bush track, and dropped to 9th, whereas Tim closed out really strong and was able to take 5th overall, but first NZ senior man in the athletics national championship!

_{^{Chilling and showing off the club colours}}

After inhaling a custard square and some blue powerade and finally sitting down with the family, I found I was able to relax, but I wasn't able to stop smiling.

I had just won the Crater Rim Ultra, and the National and Oceanic Championships for Trail running. And as it was a trial race for the World Champs team, I'm now in good stead to be wearing the NZ singlet in the world champs in Portugal in 2019. A lot to really contemplate at that point, and let the relief wash over me along with the realisation of how buggered I was.

I'm not too humble to say that I'm incredibly proud of myself. I stuck to my plan, didn't get freaked out and cause any issues, so was able to close it out as I had always wanted to.

It was just as close to the perfect day that you'd ask for and near a week later, I'm still just so stoked with how that day went. I'm also glad to finally get a blog post done.

I'll be writing more about specific thoughts about this race in future posts...hopefully!

The Thank yous

I just have to quickly thank some people for helping me reach this amazing achievement. First off, my amazing wife Clare and wonderful girls Piper and Lainey. The support from you guys is unparalleled and I love you more than anything. Thank you.

I have also had amazingly expert guidance and advice from my coach Chan. There is no way I'd be in the shape I was for that race without his efforts. Thanks bro.

The race itself was a clinic on how to run a great event. Race director, Jamie Hawker, and all the people involved in it from the admin staff to the marshals, you guys out did yourselves and I'd love to be back next year. Thanks everyone.

All my mates for putting up with me bailing on drinks and complaining about movies eating into my sleep, you guys are pretty good too. Chur.

The people that gave me specific advice or prep for the race, Andy Good, Tim Sutton, Pawel and Flo at Origin Manual Therapy, Greg Clark. You guys rock.

All the crews that I've raced and trained with, Olympic Harriers, The Big Sunday Run Group, Wellington Running Meetup. Lets keep doing it, it's fun times!

_{^{The prefect support crew}}

Gear

What I wore:
OR Running cap (ripped and worn out)
WUU2K Thir
Kathmandu Merino Gloves
Olympic Harriers Singlet
New Balance tight shorts (for the ladies)
Icebreaker lightweight merino socks
Saucony Peregrine 7 trail shoes

Mandatory Gear:
Ultraspire Velocity Pack w/ 2x 500ml flasks
Macpac Merino Beanie
Macpac Merino longsleeve/longjohns
OR Helium II Jacket
Whistle/Strapping Bandage/Emergency Blanket

Nutrition & Hydration:
4x Leppin
2x Gu Roctane Sea Salt Chocolate
2x Powergel Strawberry Banana
Saltstick Chews
Water

This weekend is going to be an interesting one to say the least, as I set out to traverse the Tararua ranges from the north to the south, in under 24 hours to become the latest member of the SK Traverse Sub 24 club.

By doing so, I'll be achieving a goal that has been bouncing around in my head for at least the last three years (see this tweet), and simultaneously reaching a bunch of 'firsts' with respect to distance traveled, time on feet, elevation gained and, in all likelihood, amount of pain felt in a single run.

The fact that I'm on the verge of doing this within the next couple of days is a slightly odd feeling. I've thought about it for so long, and even when I'd planned to do it this summer, I wasn't sure if I was really serious about it. As previous summers had come and gone, I'd started all of them with the idea that I may be able to give it a crack then, but as it turned out, I fairly quickly dismissed any possible opportunity for an attempt due to many reasons, most of them encapsulated in the thought that I just "wasn't ready".

This summer may have gone the same way, but for the fact that I was forwarded an email by another potential SK assailant, Karl Yager, who stated his similar 'maybe/maybe not' intentions. They say a "burden shared is a burden halved", so having someone else to share the pain in training, the load of logistics and ultimately, to share the experience was something that we both gravitated towards and soon we became each others enablers and decided to give the route a shot together.
_{^{Maungahuka Hut with it's namesake peak in the background - just over halfway on the SK. Mt Hector, the highest point in the traverse, way in the background to its right.}}

Alas, the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry, and in this case, they went rather sideways. Just before Christmas, with a date set, logistics sorted and excitement building, Karl messaged me with bad news. He exclaimed that he'd broken his hip in a fall while training, that there was to be no SK for him when we planned to do it, and the first opportunity for him to run again would be 8 weeks away. My first thought was utter anguish for Karl. I have experienced first hand being robbed of the chance to fulfill something you've worked so hard for right before you do it, that was last year when I contracted food poisoning the night before the Tarawera Ultra-marathon. Its a feeling like you've been ripped off of something more than a tangible asset. You've been denied an experience, and an epic one at that, and you'll never get that back. Now the situation is slightly different, because I have no doubt Karl will bounce back and make an attempt on the SK as soon as it's feasible, but in this case, our joint venture was at an end, and I had to set about preparing to do it on my lonesome.

That mindset has been more difficult to come to terms with than I imagined. Leading up to this weekend I had some training goals I wanted to reach, and in the course of doing so, was constantly battling myself as to whether or not I was ready for such a massive endeavour.

_{^{The Tararuas on a good day. Looking south from Herapai towards East Peak. I will be traversing this section in the dark.}}

Even just at the start of this week, I had written it all off completely only to change my mind again after writing down specifics as to what I was worried about and what the actual reality of things were. All the things that I thought were reasons for not doing this, while fair enough in context of someone who isn't prepared and fit enough, were just excuses, and missing the point of why I want to do this in the first place.

I do have many reasons for attempting the 24 hour SK Traverse, and I'll be the first to admit that a lot of them are fanciful and wishy-washy, but if I was to pick one that stands out more than others, the reason I want to do this is that I just absolutely love the Tararuas and the challenges they pose. The experiences I've had in the Tararuas are always special, and I know that the SK being the ultimate challenge the Tararuas have to offer, I'll be experiencing the awesome mountain range in its entirety that is going to test me like nothing I've ever done before.

There is every chance I could fail at this of course. The notorious Tararua weather, my knee that's been playing up, and the fact it's the longest endurance effort I've undertaken with so many unknowns, could all cause me to curl up into a ball and cry until a helicopter picks me up. But that is not the plan, and I'm going to work as hard as I can to complete this. There are very few bail out points, and the last one of those at the top of Bridge Peak offers you a left or a right turn. Turning right takes you to Otaki and shopping. Turning left takes you to Kaitoke and glory.

It's going to be a massive adventure, right on my door step, and I cannot wait. NO SLEEP 'TIL KAITOKE!
_{^{Design by Seanoa Isaac for the Big Sunday Run Group}}

Notes: I plan to set off at 3.30am Sunday the 15th - finishing approx 1.30 Monday 16th, at the very least by 3.30am - all things going to plan.
You can follow my progress via a Spot Tracker here
https://trackme.kiwi/event/publicview/44

More info on the SK Traverse here.
https://tararuafkt.wordpress.com/

The Tararua Ranges look a little different today, a little emptier.

They’re still a labyrinth of lush forests criss-crossed with babbling creeks and rivers, and incredible peaks and vistas crowned with vast sheets of rain, but it’s quieter today, as if it knows it has lost a true friend. That might be because the mighty range mourns the death of one of the greatest men ever to tread upon its steep and gnarled ridges.

Colin Rolfe passed away suddenly on the night of 24 October 2017, and with that he transforms from living legend, into immortal of the hills that I so revere.

Colin was a man that was larger than life, who made the lofty peaks of the Tararuas look incredibly small. Most will remember him as a man with colossal quads, but an even bigger heart. So many of us do what we do in those hills because of Colin and his inspiration, and for that, we will never be able to thank him enough.

Colin’s feats, whether they be races, adventures, or the camaraderie that so many shared with him, will always echo through the Tararuas.

Rest in peace Colin

^{(Photos courtesy of Jumbo-Holdsworth Trail Race)}

Colins account of his 24 hour SK Challenge - https://tararuafkt.wordpress.com/fkt-reports/colin-rolfe-report-1995/
Colin talking about the SK - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=URLbA6YZ6OM

One year ago I ran the Aorangi Undulator, an incredibly technical 33km mountain race held in the Wairarapa, for the first time. That race turned out to be one of the worst running performances I've ever had - and I'll never forget it.

Fast forward to the Saturday just been, and it was a completely different story, with the race going so incredibly well that, this time, I will gladly be remembering that day for all the right reasons.

So as the Ongaonga is still tingling in my thighs, and while everything is still fresh in my mind, here is my race report from Saturday.

The event

As mentioned in the intro, the course is noted as 33km in distance. And while that is a fair distance to run at the best of times, there are some very good reasons why the tagline for the event is not being over dramatic when it states 'It's not for the weak'.

Being called the 'Undulator', the course sends you point to point over 4 fairly large distinct climbs, with the accompanying steep descents following after each of them. Nothing about the trail itself is easy. Ninety five percent of this course is what I would call 'technical' to 'difficult', and a lot of it you have to keep an eye out for where it leads, as it can be fairly indistinct in a lot of places.

_{^{An example of part of the track - taken by Pete Marshall- Own work, CC BY-SA}}

The terrain you encounter is incredibly varied, as you run through riverbeds, into and out of gorges, across muddy sidles, over narrow ridges, through ongaonga, down loose scree, up root covered spurs, down root covered spurs, through a place called 'gorse alley' and finally plummet down 200m of DoC installed steps to run through another riverbed to the finish.

It's all good stuff.

Last year I'd entered it because, having tramped the route before a couple years earlier, I figured I was now fit enough to be able to conquer it with my reacquainted mountain running abilities. I had a lot of confidence going into that day, however I was not even halfway in when that confidence was knocked completely out of me and it was very apparent that it was going to be a very tough day. It turns out that the amount of training I had been doing, while a reasonable amount, was no way near enough to 'conquer' that course, and much suffering ensued.

The route spat me out, cramping all over, cursing this and that and ready to pass out, a little over six hours and twenty four minutes after starting, and while I had fun in some ways, I was fairly miserable about what had transpired.

So I was beaten that day - but I was not to be deterred. I immediately decided I would learn from the mistakes and experiences of the race and enter again a year later to turn the feeling of crushing defeat into one of joy and elation. I'm not sure I one hundred percent believed myself when I'd decided that - but like a cold beer on a hot day, you have to give it a crack don't you.

The Race

I woke up in my tent earlier than I'd hoped to, thanks to a magnificent dawn chorus by the wonderful amount of birdlife around the Putangirua Pinnacles where I'd camped the night. One of the main reasons the race is run is to support the Aorangi Restoration Trust, which does superb work in erradicating pests in the park and restoring the native flora and fauna to the area (even bats!). The birdsong of that morning was a testament to the hard work the trust does, and I'm more than happy that my race fee goes towards such an endeavour.

_{^{Dawn at Putangirua Pinnacles campground - taken by Andrew Thompson - Own work, CC BY-SA}}

The sun rose over the hills while I was just finishing my porridge and coffee. There was not a cloud in the sky and I could tell today was going to be a hot one. I was starting to think perhaps I should have asked to start at 7am like I'd heard Danny Garrett and Chris Swallow were doing, but it was a bit late now, so I headed out to the road to stick my thumb out to hitch my way to the 9am start I was placed in.

It wasn't long before a group of very typical Wairarapa fishermen picked me up on their way to Ngawi. It was in an even shorter amount of time that they declared me mad as I explained what I was up to that morning. I guess you could not find something more opposite to a relaxing morning out fishing than a 33k mountain race. But they were good buggers, and we had some laughs about crappy boat engines and fishing stories, until we got to Ngawi where they were stopping, so I started walking down the road to the Mangatoetoe River mouth which was about 3 k's away.

As luck would have it, I didn't have to walk the whole way, as I was soon picked up by an 8am starter, Martin Durney, and his partner. There was no discussion about being insane this time, just excitement about what the day had in store for us. It was good to get to the start early, to just relax and watch the 8am wave start and catch up with the organiser, Chris Martin (Martini) and some of the other helpers I knew.

As we neared closer to the 9am wave start, aka the fast guys wave (minus Chris and Danny), a group of us all introduced ourselves to each other and started chatting about the course and what to look out for. It was a neat moment of camaraderie as we shared what info we could, and I explained a couple of helpful tips that might come in handy to the guys who hadn't run it before.

_{^{Photo from Last years start - taken by Jan Ducnuigeen - Own work, CC BY-SA}}

And before long, after a rousing speech by Martini, we were off up the river.
I soon found myself in third, sitting alongside someone I'd just met at the start, Karl Yager, with Sam Hansby in front of me, and Angus Watson out on front of him. As we made our way up the river, crossing here and there, it looked like the two in front were really pushing, so I was conscious to check my effort and felt I should dial back a tiny bit. Very soon we came to a bit where there was a hidden 4WD track on the side of the riverbank, which last year I missed, but thanks to checking out Tim Sutton's strava course from last year and confirming with Martini, I knew to look for this year.
I told Karl to follow me, and it helped us gain a lot of time on the guys in front who were dipping in and out of the river and having to navigate over the rocky edges.

Very soon we caught up to Sam and Angus, who weren't sure where the track went when we got to Mangatoetoe hut. So now a pack of 4 had formed, with Angus and Sam occasionally getting away, but then Karl and I would reel them in again as they'd make slight wrong turns and have to double back. This part of the course is very unforgiving if you're out in front and not sure of the way, as we were all about to find out.

About 4k into the race, I was sitting behind Angus, and we both saw an orange DoC marker, and what 'seemed' like a trail heading left. Unfortunately, I don't think either of us looked right, and we went past the track which dipped down into the stream. Sam and Karl followed and when we hit an area that looked uncertain, groupthink sunk in and we didn't make the right decision about where to go, which should have been 'backwards'. We hared around for about 4-5 minutes looking for the track, and thankfully found it again. Fairly annoyed, I decided that I might just sit back, and run on my own, to get myself back into a comfortable headspace and concentrate on my own navigation.

This worked a treat, once I was on my own, I started to get into a state of flow and was really enjoying the situation as I headed up the first climb. I could hear the other guys talking up the hill not too far in front, so I was still in touch and feeling fresh - it felt like the plan was coming together.

After the first climb, I got the first sense that today was going to be my day as I started descending down some near vertical downhill sections rather effortlessly and with great confidence - some cycling gloves I'd bought for this very purpose were doing their trick! Not long after that I had some of that confidence wiped away by a section that I think is the hardest of the course, a gorge that runs down to Kawakawa hut.

Again there is really no track here, just the odd bit on the side here and there, but for the most part you are rock hopping or wading through the river as you pick your way down to the valley. It is very slow going, as you cannot ever gather enough momentum to run, and I felt like I was losing so much time through this section as my effort to move fast felt so stunted.
I also ended up both bashing my ankle bone and getting two thigh-fuls of ongaonga before I got out of the gorge, so by the time I made it out to the track that lead to the hut, I was well over it and I had the disturbing thought that perhaps today was going to be just as horrible as last year.

_{^{Photo down the dreaded gorge - taken by Pete Marshall - Own work, CC BY-SA}}

As I got to the hut though, my mood became more positive. It was great to see two mountain runners I respect a lot marshalling at Kawakawa, Tim Sutton and Dave Allen, and after first swearing abuse about the gorge, I asked them how far I was behind the others. Turned out to be only 2-3 minutes, which was nothing at this point, so I grabbed some jet planes and got my run on again.

Halfway up the next undulation I ran into Karl, who looked to have stopped to sort out his backpack. He explained that the other two had got away from him, so he sat in behind me and we ran together chatting away about various mutual interests and having a general good time out in the bush. It was fun to run the next hour with Karl, and I think we both got benefit from making solid progress, but at a pace where we could keep conversation. I told Karl that my plan was to hold off and then pull the trigger once we got to Parakai hut, and I'm not sure he believed me. I can talk a lot of shit, especially when a little tired, but the way I was feeling at this point, I actually realised I might be able to follow through with it.

After refilling water at the Parakai stream and passing the marshall at the hut, Karl and I shuffled our way up the second to last climb. This one is a real doozy, about 550m of very steep trail, lots of it you need to clamber with your hands pulling you up. Now it was time to make my move.

I said to Karl 'I'm gonna give it a shove, you should stay with me', he just said 'Go for it', and so I turned the effort to 11 and soon he was starting to drop behind me. I put real effort into power hiking hard, but efficiently. If I felt I was able to run up the hill, I rolled into it. I was feeling pretty tired with the speed I was doing, but I'd heard so often that there is no point making a move if you aren't going to commit, so told myself to suck it up and kept up the effort.

About halfway up the hill, I ended up passing both Sam and Angus. They both looked like they'd hit the wall hard, so I offered them as much encouragement as I could and kept on moving with the same purpose.

It was then I realised something that took a little while to sink in, as it was a situation incredibly new to me…..

I was leading!

And not only that, I was aware I was well inside the time splits I was wanting to hit for my goal time, but without feeling like I was about to die. Everything was coming up Milhouse and it was at this point I'm sure I got a massive shot of adrenaline, because I was able to really start attacking the hill closer to the top and it felt like I flew up the last 100m of that climb.

_{^{Photo of me heading down to the finish by Chris Crowley - Own work, CC BY-SA}}

A poignant moment I remember was just short of cresting the top, at 2 hours 50 mins which was well ahead of my time goal of 3 hours. I saw some windfall that had fallen on the track and recalled that same tree from last year when I could barely lift my leg over it and had tripped, sending cramp all through both legs which lead me to sitting down for about 5 minutes. This time no such namby pamby business occurred. I jumped over it in a moment of catharsis that had me whooping out over the valley I was about to descend into, having broken the back of the route.

I bombed down the hill carefully but with a focused strength, and soon hit the Washpool stream. As I climbed out of the river to the clearing where some fine marshals, including good running mate Alex, were waiting, an unfortunate sense of history repeating itself set in, as I felt the signs of cramp setting into my inner thighs. I took a moment to have a quick chat while I tipped tailwind powder into my freshly filled bottles, which was good to help me just take a few breaths to tell myself that, yes the climb out was going to be painful, but I could definitely do it.

I'd caught up to Martin, the runner who'd picked me up earlier, at the river and we started the climb together. After a bit of whinging and moaning to him, I was able to slowly adapt my body to the cramping, and was soon pushing through it to moving up the hill at a steady pace.

I felt I was going quite a lot slower up this hill, and I was feeling a little rough, well - quite rough, but I just had to keep telling myself that the guys behind me were more than likely feeling just as rough, so long as I kept moving I'd be able to keep my position and hit the time goal of 5 hours.

Soon enough, thank all that is good and great with the world, the last major climb was behind me, and I passed the last marshall, Ash, who told me 7ks to the end. I could see the ocean from where I was, and it looked a long way away! But to quote Ronnie Coleman, ain't nothing to it but to do it, so I just sucked down my last gel (double caffeine!) and got into as solid a rhythm as I could.

I was soon knocking off landmarks I knew faster and faster, and I was finally into 'gorse alley', a section where the tramping track gives way to a 4WD track which, at least last year, is filled with gorse. With great relief this year it had been cleared, and as it was all a super runnable fast downhill from here, I told my quads I was sorry and set about hitting the downhill as fast as possible.

When I got to the stairs, I felt incredibly good, and I glanced at my watch, it looked like I was going to easily beat 5 hours, and if I tried hard enough, I may even beat 4 hours 45! So I started taking the stairs two at a time, and sometimes three, as I was feeling finish line fever and was trying to use gravity as much as possible to get me there fast. I was feeling pain, but it was a very good kind of pain.

I got to the river bed, and ran up the track to the finish line where the smell of sausages gave that extra boost to the final flourish across the line. I was exhausted, but more importantly, elated.

I shook Martini's hand and assessed the situation.

While I had won the wave, Danny and Chris had smashed the record time earlier that day, so I had come third, in a time of 4 hours 47, and the day had exceeded all expectations.

Absolutely stoked.

After the race, I soaked it all in. In someways the race itself is just a means to an end, where the end is the moments after the race where you're feeling shagged, but stoked with your effort, no matter the result, and get to partake in the after race revelry.

It was a beautiful day with a beer in one hand, and a sausage in the other, I congratulated all those earlier starters that had finished, and as they came in, those that finished afterwards. Great yarns with great friends, and shared war stories with other competitors after a cracking day out in the hills, what could be better?

_{^{Photo of Tim Sutton and Myself at the finish - taken by Chris Martin - Own work, CC BY-SA}}

Thanks to Chris Martin and the rest of the amazing organisers, volunteers and marshals for putting on an amazing race. Thanks also to my coach Chan for the great advice leading up to this race.

Race Stats - Aorangi Undulator 2016

Length: 33km
Climb: 2250m
Time: 4:47:00
Place: 3rd Overall, 1st in wave

Strava Course Tracking

Wuu. Wooooo. Weoowwww. It's almost upon us, the inaugural Wellington Urban Ultra...2000, in 2016.

I wrote a post about why I decided to enter this run here, but this post is going to be more to the point about what to expect on the 60km course, as it's probably the one ultra marathon course I'd consider myself to be an expert at, having run all these trails at least once, with some hundreds of times.

First off, lets dissect the name, WUU-2K. As mentioned above, the first three letters form the acronym for Wellington Urban Ultra, which tells us that we're going to be running an ultra marathon, in Wellington, around it's urban environment. That last part is a bit of a half-truth however, because while you do snake around and between a bunch of Wellingtons suburbs, finishing right above the city, you are hardly touching pavement throughout the race and you aren't running through city streets. This certainly ain't no round the bays.

The 2K part of the name is meant to represent the two thousand meters of elevation you'll have to overcome to complete the course, which is pretty chunky all things considered. BUT, the organisers themselves have stated that for the 60km course, this is well under the actual elevation, and will be closer to 3K than 2K (more on that later), but hey, I'm not complaining, I entered this race because of the hills, not the name, so that works out just dandy.

Right, enough etymology, lets get down and dirty and talk about the course itself.

The Course

_{^{Download the GPX - Right Click - Save File As}}

In short, the course starts at Khandallah Park and climbs up to the Skyline track via Mt Kaukau, which you follow until Makara Peak, where you can enjoy a jaunt through the MTB park, followed by a climb up to Wrights Hill. You then pop around the Zealandia sanctuary to the wind turbine, and double back to the south coast, sidling just under Hawkins Hill in the process. After following the coast to Owhiro Bay, you head north, and then up and down the tip track. The home stretch sees you heading up and over Tawatawa reserve and then up to Mt Albert, where you zig-zag your way north until the finish at the lookout platform on top of Mt Victoria.

Whew, just describing all those epic tracks in one course has me all giddy. An event like this needs the course preview it deserves, so we need to go deeper. As the course is broken up by fairly regular aid stations at the end of fairly distinct sections, approximately every 10km, it makes sense to break down the preview into similar sections.

Start to Makara Road.

_{^{Skyline By Andrew Thompson - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0}}

The start is going to be an interesting one. Right away you're faced with a fairly steep 200+ meter climb on steps and single track within some native bush. Some keen people will blast up here, most will be more circumspect. Personally I think the race starts at the Mt Kaukau lookout at the top of the climb, so I'll be taking my time to settle in, soak it up and enjoy the fact I'm racing an ultra marathon on my home turf.

After reaching the top and getting hopefully the first glimpse of the finish line across the harbour, you drop down onto the Skyline track, a mixture of old farm track and some MTB single track, that will be covered by it's fair share of both cow poo and the cows that do the poo. Dodging both of these is a good idea. The Skyline track is all very runnable and is an enjoyable traverse across undulating farmland. If it's a screaming northerly or bitter southerly, you'll be in luck, because you'll certainly be getting your moneys worth as you're quite exposed along the whole track. Regardless of the weather, hopefully the clouds are high enough so everyone gets to enjoy the magnificent views of Wellington harbour to the east, and the wind farms and Marlborough Sounds to the west.

Once you start running on single track among some tree's again, you know you're very close to the first aid station at Makara Road.

Makara Road to Makara Carpark

_{^{Makara MTB Peak By Yagerkarl - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0}}

Another decent climb to get us going! This time it's more tame than the Kaukau one, but by now you'll be starting to realise that the 2K part of the event name is all a clever ruse. During this ascent you'll cruise up a bunch of switchbacks on Varley's track, finally reaching the directional sign on top of the peak via the 4WD access road.

Any 42km course runners with you at this point will display their smug smiles, as they get to split off east and enjoy a 100% downhill until the next aid station, whereas the 60km masochists need to continue south and do a loop within the MTB park. Tracks like Leaping Lizard and Possum Bait Line await, and they're well maintained single track within a mixture of scrub and native bush. You'll find yourself undulating down and up a series of fairly steep grades throughout this section, so keeping your effort steady will be important as you're still only 1/3 of the way through the event.

After the final climb out from Nikau Valley via Missing Link, you descend to the car park aid station via Lazy Fern, a low gradient downhill with a bunch of switch backs and banked corners. I'd recommend doing the airplane manoeuvre whilst undergoing cornering for maximum enjoyment of this part of the course, which should get you into a good mood to meet the lovely aid station volunteers as well as re-joining the race with the 42km course runners.

Makara Carpark to Brooklyn Wind Turbine

_{^{Wind Turbine By Andy McDowall- Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0}}

With another aid station down, another significant rise in elevation faces you, this time in the form of Wrights Hill. The track to get you up there is aptly named Salvation, as it will deliver you from the evil that is a small road running section to some very runnable uphill single track. After the climb is done, you cross over a road and sidle along the left of the Wrights Hill lookout (missing out on a great view unfortunately), until you reach the fenceline of the Zealandia ecosancturary, which you will follow anti-clockwise.

This track is essentially a 4WD access road, and undulates with a couple of small pinches while you head towards the Brooklyn Wind Turbine for the next aid station. As you round the sanctuary, you should be treated to a cacophony of native bird song, which should get you in a good mood to enjoy a fantastic view of the city from the turbine.

This section will be a bit of 'make or break' for a lot of people. The slopes here are generally quite fast and easy to run, but you do actually make some fairly large elevation gains. The danger here is getting lulled into a false sense of security trying to gain some time and taking the uphills too fast and knackering yourself before reaching the halfway point. If your strategy is 'completion' rather than 'competing', then taking things down a notch is a good idea here.

Brooklyn Wind Turbine to Owhiro Bay

_{^{Looking to Owhiro Bay By Andrew Thompson - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0}}

From the halfway point, you will be sent south, and for once, not up a daunting hill. You drop onto some single track called Car Parts Extension which joins up to Barking Emu as you meander slowly uphill towards the golf ball looking radar dome on top of Hawkins Hill. This is an excellent track to give your legs a wee bit of a rest and should give you glorious views of Wellingtons southern suburbs and the south coast.

After reaching the top end of the Tip Track, once again you can wave goodbye to the 42km runners, as they break down to the right while you'll continue on south towards the coast. This is the first of two significant descents on the 60km course, where you follow the ridge down a mostly wide track until Red Rocks. This track has some technicality to it, which will make it fun for those wanting to bomb the hill, just be prepared for a solid examination of your quads.

Once you reach the coastal track, you head east on the only section of the course that could actually be considered 'flat'. If you have the energy and are willing to give it a shove, you can can cover a lot of ground quickly here, provided no seals are blocking the path. Lumbering escarpments will tower over you as you make your way in and out of bays until you reach the Te Kopahou Visitor Centre just before Owhiro Bay, where you'll find the next aid station at around the 42km mark.

Owhiro Bay to Adelaide Road (via Tip Track)

_{^{From Hawkins Hill towards Owhiro Bay Plant Runner - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0}}

Ahhh, this section. Right, so if you thought things were pretty tame so far, then no doubt the out and back on Tip Track will absolutely change your mind.

After pounding the pavement again for a few k, you'll turn left onto an old dirt road, and head up. And up, and up, and continue up - on what is essentially Wellington's highest runnable climb that is close to the city. There is a small dip/flat section just over halfway up, but other than that, it's relentless. To make matters worse, those struggling to get themselves up the hill, have to put up with the joy of seeing the 42km entrants, or the 60km entrants who were ahead of them, run down past them most likely wearing grins that say 'glad I'm not you right now'.

So you get to the top, to a point you've actually run past before probably an hour ago, and if that doesn't make your existence seem pointless enough, you are then sent back down the same way you came up. Time to reacquaint yourself with those quads again. In fact, if you look at the elevation profile of this section, it's almost as if you can see it giving you the old middle finger.
_{^{Say hello to your mother for me.}}

Not to be completely negative, it's worth pointing out that now you'll be well past the 2/3 mark of the course, and you'll have got the last major climb out of the way, so all the hurt and despair will be evened out somewhat by those tidbits. As you reach the road again, you do have to climb another hill through Tawatawa Reserve, but you can be assured in the fact that all climbs from now on are going to be tiny compared to that last one.

After you reach the top of Tawatawa, you descend some stairs, skip past a water tank, cut back down a track until you pop out onto a public golf course where I'm sure at least one persons perfect round will be ruined by some sweaty, groaning ultra marathon runner putting them off their putt. Just down from the golf course is the Adelaide Road crossing, where the final aid station is positioned.

Adelaide Road to Mt Victoria Lookout

_{^{Stump on a winding forest walkway on Mt Victoria, Wellington. By Andre Goble - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0}}

The home stretch.

This section is the most 'urban' of the course, but for the most part your encounters with roads will be crossings, as the event makes good use of Wellingtons superb Southern Walkway.

From the busy Adelaide Road (take care crossing) theres a decent pinch climbing up to Mt Albert. This is basically the second to last climb, with less than 5 miles to go, so if you have it in you, push it hard. Following some tracks down across Melrose field, you'll go around the edge of Wellington zoo, where at this point your incoherent grunts will be joined by those of the baboons, who will see you charging and be in no doubt that you're the better primate.

Heading north through a zig-zag of tracks and roads, you'll reach the boundary of HRH Mt Victoria, husband of Albert, who you just recently conquered. As you advance on a mixture of single track and wider general purpose walking tracks, you will be passing plenty of recreational users of the city's town belt, who will have no idea of the magnitude of the day you've had so far. Make sure you tell them how awesome you are.

Finally, you'll be just below the Mt Victoria summit, passing the catering truck that, combined with the last 20 meters of steep hill to climb, may tempt you to just give up there and then, but if you endure, as you have done all day, you'll be on top of Mt Victoria, and will have completed the first ever Wellington Urban Ultra Marathon - Whew! Or should I say, WHEWUU!

Look forward to seeing you all out there on the day.

Vital Statistics _{^{Download the GPX - Right Click - Save File As}}

• Length: 60km - though my GPX says it's just shy of 63km.
• Climb: Event states it as 2.5k climb, however by my reckoning, using the gpx above and the gpx report from this site, it will be just on or below 4k of climb.
  It turns out it it was 3K.
• Highest Elevation: Mt KauKau, which at the platform (not the summit) is 443 meters. You reach just below this elevation 4 more times.
• Track Conditions: Approx 40% single track, 50% 4WD type dirt track, 10% footpath. A decent proportion is exposed to the elements, particularly in a southerly. On almost all of the course aside from about 6k, you'll be either descending or ascending.

For another course preview, check Run Wellington

_{^{Header Image: Wellington from Mt Kaukau - By Andrew Thompson - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0}}

It's so hard to fathom because I can recall 6 months ago, I was certain that I wasn't going to attempt an ultra this year. My goal was to knuckle down on some consistent training, work on my speed and aim to win some trail races of around 15 to 20 kms in length.

I'd told myself, and many others who'd listen to my boring running plans, that I wasn't going to do an ultra until I was older and thus, slower. But that all changed when I ran the relay at the Tarawera Ultramarathon in February this year. The event was incredibly inspiring and you were surrounded by so many people who were setting out on challenges that no doubt they too said they'd never undertake, that it was very hard to ignore the pull of running a race of that magnitude. If you're a runner, and you're in the middle of that atmosphere and you don't feel like wanting to sign up for an ultra right away, there is something wrong with you.

And so, the seed was planted, and it didn't take much fertiliser to help it grow into a full 60km sized tree that was my WUU-2K entry. Now this was a race that I'd considered when it was first announced, but I quickly dismissed it. Like a person who's restricting their options by saying something inane like "I don't date DJs", my equally silly mantra was "I don't do ultras...yet", and so I ignored it and searched out other races at the time.

But in late February, with the buzz from Tarawera still pulsing through me, I realised that if I was to ever do an ultra, the WUU-2K had to be my first one. The race encompasses so much of what I am about when it comes to running, and I was so motivated by that fact that I threw all plans of 'being an old man running long distances' aside, and signed up so a slightly younger version of myself could get into the mix and enjoy what looks to be a cracker of a race.

The WUU-2K is the inaugural Wellington Urban Ultra, 60km over trails that meander across Wellington's hills starting from Khandallah Park, circumnavigating the city counter clockwise to finish on top of Mt Victoria. And there are a bunch of reasons why this is the perfect race to debut in an ultra distance.

The course

The course is 98% trail running, all of that on some fairly decent hills. And as you may have guessed, I love to run them hills. And if I was being specific about what hills I love to run more than any, it's the local ones. The hills and trails on this course are those I hold very dear to my heart and which have contributed greatly to who I am as a runner. Having a chance to embark upon such a momentous journey for the first time on the same very hills and trails, is something I'm incredibly excited about.

Familiarity

From what I know about ultra marathons, having a strong mental game is a major part of success. Being so familiar with the course and conditions is going to be a massive boost to that me in that regard.
If I know the weather forecast, I can almost guarantee what the conditions are going to be like across the entire course. I know where I'll be exposed, where I'll be sheltered, how careful I have to be on certain downhills and when I can put the foot down. I also don't need to stress about getting lost and I'll know how long I have to toil and endure on certain bits of the course. All of these things will add up to making quite a tough day that much easier.

Support

I'd always hoped my family would help crew if I ever did an ultra, and this is the perfect opportunity to get them involved in this way. They can sleep in their own beds (so can I for added bonus) as the start is literally 5 minutes down the road. All the aid stations are in areas they know, which makes planning much more simple, and they'll be keeping me in top shape and motivated as I tick off the miles. On top of that, I'm pretty sure I can convince at least a few friends to be out on the course cheering me on, and no doubt some will want to be at the finish ready to laugh at how wrecked I'm going to be.

The organisers

It always helps you to enter a race when you know the people behind it are doing it for the right reasons. Gareth and Stu, the organisers, are part of WoRM, a running meetup here in Wellington. It was through the regular trail runs those guys did together in which the idea was for the WUU-2K was thought up and ultimately realised. I've met Gareth and Stu a number of times, and you cannot help but notice how passionate about trail running in Wellington they are, as are all the WoRM crew, plenty of which will be out in force volunteering to help the race be amazing.

The length

Hey, it's only 60 kilometers, it's not like its a 100 miler or anything. Walk in the park....

There is so much more to why I'm doing this race, and these are just some of the reasons why I'm toeing the line in a couple of weeks.

I cannot wait to run with some like minded people and complete the challenge that I've set for myself and worked hard to achieve over the past 4 months, it's going to be a blast.

PS - If you've read this far, another reason I'm running in this event is to help raise money for the Malaghan Institute. It's is an incredible research institute that is focused on finding cures for diseases such as cancer, asthma and allergies. If you'd like to help myself or any of the runners who are raising money for this cause, head to my donor page, or the event's info page here.

Header photo of myself running along skyline at dusk by Ricoh Riott Photography

I love it when a plan comes together!

I recall back to the middle of last year, when training was going quite well, but the weather was poor and it was darker more than it was light. I was hovering over my computer with the Tarawera Ultra Marathon entry form open in front of me. With the warmer months so far away, I just kept thinking about training for and running races in the summer, and the TUM was a race I'd heard so much about, that I decided I had to get my act together to enter.

I was only slightly contemplating entering an ultra distance, but knew that in reality it was a no-go with other races I was doing around that time and type of training I was due to do, so I started to study the details on the relay.

I messaged an ex-Wellington based running buddy of mine, Alastair who currently lives in Auckland, seeing if he'd be interested in doing the relay with me as a duo. At that point, as any runner would, he also contemplated doing an ultra distance, running through the mental checklist of pros and cons of doing something as mental as a 100km race.

Thankfully I was quite convincing that it was a bad idea, and sanity prevailed, so Al decided to join me on the relay - Team Blazin' Pace was entered and the plan was in motion.

Fast forward through months of training and injuries for both me and Alastair, and we were both up at 4am on Waitangi Day to prepare for the race start in a couple of hours. We'd planned to do the 85km distance, which is split into 4 possible legs for the relays, as a series of alternative legs. I was to run Leg 1 to Lake Tikitapu, Al was then to run Leg 2 to Okataina, I would then take over and run Leg 3 to Tarawera Falls, with Al finishing off the run in Leg 4 to Kawerau. Over all, I would run about 40km with 2000m climb, where Al would cover 45km with 700m climb.

For some reason, in all the time leading up to that Saturday morning, the event seemed like a simple task. Yet while I was waiting for my coffee and breakfast to do it's thing, it dawned on me that I was about to run the longest distance I had ever run, not to mention I was going to attempt this only a week after putting a serious effort into a 3 hour race. In a wondrous moment of serendipity, these thoughts freaked me out enough to help the coffee do it's magic, which helped me forget my doubt with focus taking its place.

At the start line, the focus intensified. I surrounded by an amazingly lit redwood and ponga forest, and I could sense an amazing vibe in the air emanating from the throng of competitors around me. Toeing the line were runners that covered the full spectrum, from less than likely weekend warriors, all the way to international record holders and professionals. Common to all, however, was the excitement of the day ahead - and boy did it get me fizzing.
After a rousing haka, the countdown began, and we were off!

I was told by people who had done the relay previously, that I needed to make sure I wasn't stuck in among the crowds at the start, particularly as a relay runner where I'd be wanting to move a lot faster than most. I was very happy with where I slotted myself in, probably about 20 runners back from the leader, where the pace was good and the tracks were still quite intact. The weather leading up to the race and on the day had been pretty wet, and there was a lot of talk about how much harder it would be underfoot. I think that being in the front of the pack really helped mitigate those issues, as while some areas of single track leading down to Blue Lake were a bit sloppy, all in all it was a very sturdy course.

This first 16.5km leg started off in the Redwoods Whakarewarewa Forest, and was for the most part a gentle climb through dark single track. Soon we were past the water tower and into some open and flat forest roads, and I noticed that my legs felt very, very tired. I had expected this to happen, being a hangover from the racing last weekend, so I just had to try ignore it and power through. With the first leg being relatively short, and with the pace of the runners around me so hot, I kept my head down and sure enough I was rounding the gorgeous Blue Lake to hand off to Alastair in no time.

As soon as Al had set off, I had to get my bearings. I was quite shagged, and I knew that I had to hustle to get to Okataina before Alastair did. So I did a small warm down, stretched, fueled up as best I could, got changed out of my wet gear, put on some Jamie XX (very loud) and high-tailed it out of there.

Unfortunately due to the size of the carpark and access road, only shuttles were allowed to the Okataina change over area from Rotoiti, so this didn't help my small amount of recovery time as I got quite stressed out when I turned up and saw a shuttle just leaving. The volunteer told me it would be at least 30 minutes until the next one left - so add to that the 25 minute travel time, and I was likely to be cutting it way too close to meet Al running in. Not ideal.

Thankfully the next shuttle was actually only a few minutes away, and it filled up very fast and was off quick smart towards Okataina. During the shuttle ride, the effects of fatigue started to kick in. I was quite sleepy, and I was also starting to worry that I'd not rehydrated and refueled enough. I knew this next leg was going to hurt.

Once in Okataina, I got to see the 100km race leaders come through the aid station, and not long after, was the other half to Team Blazin' Pace - who had done a cracking run and picked up a few places over his leg. Al came flying in, and once I had the timing chip swapped to my leg, I had to forget my worries once again, and shift my focus to the track in front of me.

I felt solid for a around 8km, really enjoying myself while I kept on a decent pace and picked up a few of the 100km/60km runners that had slowed a little. The track was gorgeous, travelling alongside lake Okataina in some amazing native forest, towards a slight saddle that took me down to Humphrey's Bay, where the first of 2 aid stations on this leg was to be found. When I got to Humphrey's though, I was shot. Perhaps it was just seeing an aid station, or I was running on empty, but after taking in water and fuel, I was dreading setting off for the last 15 odd kilometers.

About 2km after Humphrey's, while the course was on a climb, I let the demons get to me, and I told myself I'd allow myself to walk until 3km, but after that, then I'd have to run. While I'm not proud of that moment, it actually worked. I felt the a massive second wind sooner than I thought, and I was able to plod along at a decent pace until the Outlet, the last aid station for me.

Now, aid stations were a new thing to me this race. I've been in races before when I've been tired and come across marshals and decided to have a small rest and a chat to get some motivation to keep going, but aid stations stocked with amazing food and drink choices, not to mention a dozen or so very helpful people, they become like black holes, sucking you in, tempting you to rest. I sat down, drunk Coke for the first time in a race, and took on some gels. Thankfully, a very motivating volunteer had a chat to me, and sent me on my way, all gee'd up and ready to finish the last 5kms. He told me the next bit of trail is some of the best of the course, so I was excited to see that, as well as get this day over with.

And then, it happened. The dreaded C-Word. Much like the Aorangi Undulator 3 months earlier, as soon as I felt a little bit of cramp, it wasn't long until both my legs, top to bottom, seized up completely. I knew there was nothing much I could do, and I was suddenly in a forced walk/jog pattern which meant I got passed by a decent amount of people in the last section. One benefit to moving this slow on this part of the trail however, was that I got to see the breathtaking Tarawera Falls more than I would have if I was moving freely. They are quite something and helped take my mind off the pain somewhat.

After covering about 5km in about 35 minutes with running that would not be out of place at the Ministry of Silly Walks, I arrived at the falls carpark, to an awaiting Alastair. I told him sorry about the wait, wished him good luck, said I'd see him at the finish and promptly went back to the table of food and filled myself with Nutella and peanut butter hot cross buns followed by a dip in the Tarawera River. Boy was I relieved to be done!

After crashing out in the pine needles for a while, I drove to Kawerau and strolled out a few hundred metres in front of the the finish to wait for Al. While I was waiting, I saw the Jonas Buud from Sweden come in to the finish to win the 100km (was actually 102km) in a scorching 8:00:53. Not too far after that, David Byrne, an Australian take 2nd place in 8:22:39. As I cheered David on, he asked how far it was to the finish, this amused me considering it was just around the corner and I thought to myself how many times he'd asked himself that over the last 8 hours.

Only minutes later, I spied Al coming along the track. I was pumped! I joined him as we jogged towards the end. Oddly enough, in the same breath that he was complaining about a blown out knee, he asked if we wanted to race into the finish! We had a ton of fun jockeying for position into the finish, but my 2 hours of rest and intact knees meant I had a huge advantage on him, so I held back a little to make sure we crossed the line together.

Seconds after crossing the line, we were embraced by Paul Charteris, the fantastic race organiser, who promptly told us we were the first 2-person team to arrive, in 8:28:00, how about that! We got to say a few words on the PA to the supporters around the place and then sit down and share our war stories over a beer that has never tasted so good. I also got to see third place Ryan Sandes from South Africa come in to the finish in 8:30:40, and once he was recovered enough, I had a wee chat with him. Ryan is one of my ultra running heroes, so I was stoked to be able to talk a little about some NZ trails with him.

And with that the Tarawera was done. It was a race that, going into it, had a lot of unknowns, but I had spent a lot of time planning it out, so I knew that it would come off okay with some effort. And ultimately it did, first 2-person team is nothing to be sneezed and, and I also have a good gauge on what is required when I enter an ultra distance solo next year. Whether its the 60k, 85k or 100k, is yet to be decided, but there is no way I'm missing another hit out on those trails.

Race Stats - Tarawera Ultra Marathon

2 PERSON RELAY 6TH FEBRUARY 2016

Length: 39.8km - 16.5km Leg 1 and 23.3km Leg 3
Climb: 2000m - 800m Leg 1 and 1200m Leg 3
Time: 3:10:08 - 01:27:29 Leg 1 and 02:42:39 Leg 3
Place: 1st 2 Person Team, 9th Relay team.
Photos: by myself, Alastair and photos4sale

Get out your paint brushes and colour me excited!

One of my favourite mountain races is only two weeks away, and if you haven't heard about it, then let the rest of this blog be the polyfilla to your knowledge gap.

The race in question is, of course, the Jumbo-Holdsworth Trail Race, formally known as the Holdsworth-Jumbo Trail race for so many years. These days however, you can legitimately call it either of those, as you can actually choose the direction of the circuit you'd prefer to run. Further down I'll go into some detail about what considerations you may want to make before choosing the direction that will suit you, should you want to give the race a go. (Spoiler alert: You should definitely enter!)

This event holds a special place in my heart for a few reasons, but the foremost is because it was the first mountain race I ever competed in. Back in 1997, I was a string bean of a seventeen year old, and I was told about the race by some fellow orienteers who were entering. My reaction of learning about the race and its course was that of complete awe and surprise that people decide to run the damn thing at all, let alone be able to complete it in less than three hours! This reaction is similar to what I experience still when I describe it to most people, particularly if they have walked the circuit before - which is completely understandable when the circuit is traditionally undertaken over at least two days, with DOC estimating at least 12 hours of walking.

I think it's this concept of running the seemingly impossible that is at the heart of why people decide to take up mountain running, and it was certainly the driving force that lead me to sign up for that first race - even if it meant having to get a special clearance from the organisers due to the fact I was under eighteen (not sure that's still the case). Since then I've been hooked on the sport, and this race in particular.

Another thing I love about this race is the grassroots vibe of the event. It's competitor numbers sit around 250 or under (including the shorter distance Hooper Loop), and this seems to suit the organisers just fine. It really does feel like they're putting the race on if only to provide a quality, safe and enjoyable event for anyone who wants a challenge. Combine that with the relaxed atmosphere of the DOC Holdsworth campground, where after the race you get to put your feet up in beautiful surroundings while digging into a superb feed put on by volunteers, you cannot help but feel part of something special.

So enough sentiment, if you were to enter this race, and you should, what are you to expect?

Here is the basic info for both directions;

• Length: Approx 23-24km
• Climb: 1650 meters
• Highest Elevation: Mt Holdsworth, which is 1470 meters - though in the race you skirt just below the trig
• Track Conditions: 60% very well formed walking tracks, 10% steep rooty ridge track, 30% exposed route/track cut on the ridges above the tree line

Course Description:

I'm going to describe the course in the counterclockwise, Jumbo first direction, but will add extra notes for those who decide to run the other way.

This course starts off with a very fast 7.5km to Atiwhakatu Hut. This section has only 300m of climb over that period, and the track is about as much of a highway as you can get in the Tararuas. There are some stair climbs in and out of creek valleys, but all creeks and streams are crossed using either small footbridges or more substantial swing bridges.

Clockwise: After the Raingauge descent, your legs are likely quite hammered, but if you have the strength and energy, the run back down the valley can be done very quickly and easily, with only a few minor climbs there to make you feel the extra pinch. Remember, the finish isn't far away!

Once you hit Atiwhakatu Hut, where there will be a marshal and some water and lollies for you, turn left and you're faced with Raingauge Spur track - 732m of climb over 2.2km! This track will start to spread the pack out very quickly, as it's incredibly steep, rocky, rooty and constant. Upon overcoming this brute, you'll reach the treeline and Jumbo Hut, once again greeted by some marshals and water/lollies, should you want those.

Clockwise: Like the uphill direction, this can make a large difference in your time. If you have no fear and a lot of downhill skill, you can get down the Raingauge in very little time. Be prepared to use your hands to grab onto some trees and keep your concentration up - the valley floor gets closer with every step.

The next 6km takes across the exposed peaks of Jumbo and Holdsworth to Powell Hut. This section starts off climbing up to Jumbo, where some of the track can be a bit narrow and sketchy, but it's all quite harmless - and fun! Once at Jumbo, you turn left and head for Holdsworth along the ridge. This ridge is generally quite wide, and the track is for the most part easy to pick, though some sections tend to let you pick your own path, so keeping a heads up as to the best line is a good idea. Tussock covering the track tends to be a bit of a pain, as will negotiating competitors coming the other direction, but there aren't too many steep climbs along here until just before Holdsworth, it's all quite runnable. Conditions up here could be anything, but if it is clear, make sure to look around you at the view - Wairarapa on the left, and the main range of the Tararuas on the right - quite magnificent.
Once reaching Holdsworth just below the trig, you turn left again and head down the ridge to Powell Hut - and you guessed it, Marshals, lollies and some water.

Clockwise: Climbing up to Holdsworth after the push to Powell can be done quite quickly, and the section to Jumbo is slightly easier than the other direction due to less climb. Otherwise, it's very similar.

Downhill from Powell really is two distinct sections. First you start heading down the steep ridge for about 1.7kms while you drop 450m. This ridge has some rocky/rooty parts, mixed with some incredibly large, but well built, steps (some with hand rails), as well as some well formed hard packed track as you reach the bottom of the steep section.

Clockwise: If you are quite fit and have good hill running strength, you can run this part. As opposed to running up Raingauge, where you're likely to powerhike/climb a lot of it, the quality of the track and the steps means you can keep your stride up. If you're hoping to make the Sub 1 Hour club to Powell, you'll want to be at Mountain House at around 37 minutes at the latest.

After that you make a small climb up to Pig Flat, run along the boardwalks, and hit the final descent down the Gentle Annie Track.
This track is very well formed and can be run incredibly fast if you have the energy. It's approx 6k from here to the finish, and there is no perceivable uphill, so you have gravity on your side all the way until the last flat push to the finish.

Clockwise: Just like the ascent from Mountain House to Powell, the climb here is very runnable, and you should enjoy the ability to stride out while you can, particularly while you're fresh.

What direction should you run?

Running counterclockwise (Jumbo first) is the more popular direction, this is for two reasons. One being that for the 10 years previous to 2014, it was the only direction to run it. So it's understandable people will continue to run the course they are familiar with. Secondly, it's thought to be 'the faster' course. This is possibly true, but the runners who have both set amazing records, James Coubrough (2:16:08 - counterclockwise) and Carsten Jorgenson (2:20:46 - clockwise) have never run the race in the other direction to compare - and Carstens record was set in atrocious conditions across the tops. The fact is, the majority of trail runners aren't that good at smashing sustained technical downhills, and struggling down Raingauge for 700+ meters is not much fun and will lose you a lot of time, so it's just natural to want to do the course you'll enjoy more.

Personally, coming from an orienteering background, I love technical running - downhills in particular - so I'm a fan of the clockwise, Holdsworth first direction.
I also like to have the chance to get to Powell in sub 1 hour, and join the elite group of people who have done that in the past, and for those reasons I will be running clockwise again this year.

I could go on and on about this race, but I'll leave it at that for now. Good luck with your training and hope to see you on the starting line in two weeks' time!

If you haven't done so yet, you can enter here

Rockstar or Athlete?

That was the question I was asking myself on the start line of the 2015 edition of the Goat Tongariro, a race which the organisers love to say is "17km worth of hope, and 4km worth of truth."

The reason for asking this, was due to finding that gem of a slogan on a t-shirt at the Kilbirne Salvation Army shop previous to our departure north. It was decided by our travel party that first of us across the line would get to wear said shirt at the 'ugly shirt/sweater' afterparty the event was holding after the race. With an addition to simple bragging rights, now things were getting serious!

The day of the race dawned with the mountain completely covered in cloud when viewed from the chalet window, and the forecast was for some rain and strong winds. I was positive that they were going to make us run in warm gear, so I made my first mistake of the day by putting on a short sleeve polyprop top, and leaving my lightweight, quick-dry shirts in my room.

The reality of the what the weather was going to be like however was quite different, as the bus that ferried us to the start line broke through the cloud halfway up the bruce road, it turned out that the course was going to be soaked in sun and have very light winds. Truth be told, I was much happier to be running in slightly warmer gear in better weather than slightly warmer gear in shite weather, so I just dealt with the situation.

For the next hour and a bit after getting dropped off, I was in the middle of the golden pre-race period. Call me strange, but I love this time before a race, where you do everything including; a lot of people watching, taking a few selfies, tending to your nervous excretions in the portaloos, finding people you may or may not know and chatting to them about the impending pain, and a lot of contemplation about how you got here and what is to come in the next few hours.

And then it was time for the first wave, my wave, to go. As I stood in the holding pen with the other wave 1 competitors, including good friend of mine, Fraser Mills, I know I was beaming. I was feeling so amped about starting a race that had been in my thoughts so damn much recently, I just wanted to get out there and do it.

The horn went, and we were off! Over the timing mat, through the gate and down the Bruce Road.
I would consider the pace I was running 'tempered', purposely held back to just on or under 4min/k because I knew I had a tendency to get a bit excited early on. Of course there were a bunch that put on a big stride and by the time we hit the trail, I was about 40 runners back, with the leaders a good 500m in front.

The next 3kms, as planned, was were where I made a few of moves overtaking people who suddenly slowed up on the technical terrain. Leading into the first climb, I was feeling pretty good, but also could feel the heart rate getting up there as the gradient pinched a little.

As I reached the top of the climb, I looked to my right and noticed Fraser alongside me, I was both stoked and surprised! For some reason I'd thought I was well ahead of him after the road section, and that I must have slowed down up the first climb enough for him to catch me, but after the race Fraser explained he was sitting on my heels the whole time up until then.

This was the second mistake I'd make today, as due to my assumption I was slowing up, I then decided to take the downhill on the switchbacks more conservatively than I possibly would have otherwise. I sat in behind Fraser and picked up some people who weren't so adept on the downhill (one competitor straight out missing a corner!) and once at the bottom, decided to try push harder again.

For the next 6 or 7 kms, I concentrated as much on efficiency as possible. This meant a lot of power hiking up the steep climbs, but always making sure to break into a run where the gradient suited it or if I was about to reach the apex of the climb. I made sure to look ahead and pick the best line on the trails, as you could easily find yourself hitting a clay wall you'd need to pull yourself up with more effort than if you'd gone the simpler way you could run up. All through this time, I wasn't picking up any runners, but I was starting to get further ahead of the group that I was with, which included Fraser.

At about 11km, after the last major climb in the middle section, I noticed a runner I had slowly caught was looking around at the environment, so I decided to do the same. Holy moly, the view was amazing. I cannot fully describe how overawed I felt looking to my left up at the snow capped brute of Ruapehu, and to my right seeing the massive expanse of the central plateau, but suffice to say, it's a moment I'll remember fondly for a long time to come. Not only did the view inspire me with awe, but it inspired me to get a wriggle on, so I decided to pass that runner and put in a decent push. This section was slightly downhill on nice soft mud single track, with very little rocks, and I had a blast going full tilt along it.

The next 4kms were downhill, and I put in a lot of effort to make sure I negotiated this as fast as possible, because my assumption that there are always fast runners who tend to hold back on the downhills, due to being too cautious or tired quads. Sure enough, I picked up a couple of runners closer to the bottom of the trickier sections, and I was stoked that my race was all coming together. Just one last brute of a climb and I could have a beer!

Heading up to the waterfall/lava flow climb, you can see quite a lot of the course in front of you, and I spotted 3 runners making their way slowly up the rock face. By the time I reached the top of the hill (300m vert later), I'd passed each of them, and had one more in my sights as we ran to the start of 'Mumma's Mile' together.

Mumma's Mile, is the last 1.6kms of the race, on the Ohakune Mountain Road, and is so called because it will make you cry out for your mother as you try to run it. It's very tricky to run at all, let alone fast at the end of a long technical run, and I unfortunately found myself switching to a power walk on a couple of occasions. This let the runner I'd just caught up to get a slight edge on me, and as we both put on a sprint for the line at the end, I couldn't make up the time on him and he pipped me by 14 seconds.

That was the last thing on my mind however, as I just finished the damn race, and all I was thinking about was how much fun I'd just had. I took an assessment of my time, 2 hours 33 minutes, a full 18 minutes faster than the previous year. Not quite the sub 2 hours 30 I wanted, but close enough to feel accomplished in what I'd just done.

4 minutes later, Fraser jogged into the finished chute, and as we shared a beer together, the discussion quickly turned to the original question - Rockstar or Athlete. And I have to say at that point, I felt like both!

Race Stats - The Goat Tongariro 2015

Length: 20km (stated) - 19.1 (measured)
Climb: 1000+m (stated) - 1197m (measured)
Time: 2:33:27
Place: 27th Overall, 17th Open Men - Results
Photos: by myself and photos4sale

Strava Course Tracking

Hello and Happy New Year to everyone. Unless you're reading this well after I post it of course. If that is the case, sorry to waste your time with unnecessary salutations.

Right, enough of that, and onto the meat and potatoes.

The new year, through social norms and not through any actual evolutionary purpose, always brings us to both moments of reflection on the year that has been, and speculation on the year ahead - this post is the former, lamenting what was in the year that has been. As this blog is quite new, the year in review will be a fairly healthy catch up, so for the TL;DR version, just read the next sentence.

Overall, 2015 was a year that I can say I was quite happy with.

I'd not been long in my new job when the year switched, and throughout the year I found myself very settled there, enjoying it more and more, and it enabled me to learn and enhance myself professionally more than any previous role. Throughout the year, new hires bought amazing new talent alongside myself, and I am very grateful for the team I have working with me into 2016.

My family life didn't have the same bumps along the road that it had in 2014, no major health scares for anyone close to me thankfully. My wife and two daughters continue to be the shining beacons of inspiration and motivation that I often need, and I'm so thankful for each moment I've spent with them this year. I'm stoked that last year the girls wanted to get into some extra curricular junior cross country, and not only did they get involved, they loved it. I know that through running/sport they will earn a sense of purpose and self esteem that will help them immensely as they grow into teenagers.

As for running, which is the reason for this blog after all, I had a year that I'll give a grade of B+.

The negatives were mainly injury related. I started off the year with an annoying twinge in the hip that, thanks to a WHAC 10k race, became a full blown hip flexor injury 1 week before the Jumbo-Holdsworth Trail race I so dearly wanted to run. That was not ideal and I was quite disappointed. Ultimately, it turned out okay, because I got to help out on the course, marshaling for the Hooper Loop and taking photos of all the competitors on a very enjoyable day.

After overcoming the hip flexor problem, I slowly built back up my training and was able to compete in the Rollercoaster Run over in Melbourne, during a trip my wife and I had taken there to watch the Cricket World Cup final. That race went pretty well, but I went in under cooked. I ended up a respectable 21st on a course that was both fast and hilly, but my body felt the effects of a lack of training in the last quarter.

I then took part in one of the Wellington Xterra events at Makara Mountain bike park in April. This was a moment when I realised I wasn't nearly as fit as I thought I was. I struggled early on in the hills, and then again in the last quarter like the Rollercoaster run. I recall feeling a bit bummed about how my body felt during this race and for the next week I was both unmotivated and also, substantially buggered to even undertake a small training run. It was at this point that I'd decided I needed to look a bit more closely about how I was training and started to think more seriously about joining a running club.

Which was exactly what I did in May, when I noticed on twitter mention of the Vosseler Shield, a pretty gnarly 10k cross country that was held in very high esteem within the NZ Athletics scene. I bit the bullet and joined a club a lot of friends had been members of in the past, Wellington Scottish, and I'm now incredibly proud to be part of such a great club. Suddenly my focus switched from trail runs, to cross country, and I cannot think of one thing that has given me more of a kick up the arse to my training. I was schooled fairly hard at Vosseler, and then again at the Dorne Cup XC, but thanks to the atmosphere of being in a club, I didn't just internalise the problems I was having, I reached out and spoke to other members, and got advice and encouragement.

I ended up getting a coaching plan from a fellow club member, and started out on that. Within a few weeks I was doing more speed work than I'd done in my life....unfortunately however, that lead me to injure myself in a not insignificant way - shin splints and/or stress fracture in the shin.

I spent over a month doing no running, concentrating on cycling and aqua jogging to keep my body from atrophying. I went and got orthotics from a podiatrist, and also found a brilliant physio at Habit in Petone, who sorted out a muscle imbalance which combined with the extra load on training had caused the injury.

So that was a bugger, because coming up not far from that were two races I was quite excited about - the Aorangi Undulator and the Tongariro Goat. However, I played with the cards I was dealt, took it easy getting back into training, and focused on what I could get done in the time I had left.

The Aorangi was a bit of a disappointment in terms of performance, but I was quite upbeat about it all, because I knew I didn't have the kilometers behind me that would have allowed me to compete as hard as I wanted to anyway. There were a lot of positives from that race, and thankfully with the Goat only a month away, I knew if I could utilise those and eliminate the negatives, then I'd have a good day on Ruapehu.

And as it turns out I did. I had probably one of the strongest races of my life, and cripes did that feel good. I was just behind my goal time of 2:30 at 2:31 (Full race report to come). I jumped 14 places from the year before in a field that was a LOT stronger, and I ran hard and smart throughout the whole distance.

Since that race, I've felt imbued with a new sense of confidence that I haven't had since I was a young buck with all the energy of a working flux capacitor. My training is going incredibly well, I'm able to crush hills and distance at will and enjoy the hell out of my time doing so.

I'll finish this post by saying thanks to people that have made 2015 what it was. Everyone I've run with, race directors and volunteers, work mates, friends, family and of course my wife and girls.

I'm very excited for what 2016 will bring me, both personally, professionally and through my running exploits.

Stay tuned for a post on my goals for 2016.