Whirinaki Long Run

People keep telling me I have a book in me.  Despite countless x-rays it's never shown up and I certainly don't recall inserting one.  More likely I'm full of tall stories and bullshit and since I have a terrible memory I should probably take note of the occasional tale least I forget it.

The alarm sounded at 4:50am for what promised to be a lengthy adventure in the Whirinaki Forest with friend and fellow manic Michael Hoogeveen.  We were on the road by 5am and I spent the journey randomly tossing odds and ends into my pack.  It seemed little thought was put into what I took with me in the car as I had 3 headlamps, a box of Girl Guide cookies, a fist-full of gels, some school-lunch-box nutbars and very little clothing.  "I'll take the piddly little headlamp" I thought as I tipped it into my pack, "we'll be done by nightfall".  I pushed around 500 lumens of unnecessary headlamps into the glove compartment of Michael's truck assuming I wouldn't miss them.  Heh.

Through Rotorua, Murupara and Minginui by 7am, we were on the trail and running at a quarter past the hour.  The plan was a clockwise loop of the park, a journey that would blow past 7 DoC Huts over the course of what we hoped would be a 10-11hr run.  A roughly drawn line on Google Earth told me to expect at least 66km.  I assumed this might make 70 but I'd taken a GPS anyway.

The trail was in incredible condition having been upgraded for mountain bikes in recent years with a wide benched surfaces over gradual rolling terrain.   The dawn hours passed without incident, Michael and I detoured to take in first Moerangi Hut then Rogers Hut.  We were moving slowly which I thought best given the long day we had ahead.  The steady start to our day gave me some confidence that we'd still be moving well that evening.

Michael rolling down a section of nice benched track mid-morning.

Mangakahika Hut

I was surprised when around 11:30 as we came unto Mangakahika Hut that Michael was talking of early fatigue and it seemed behind the conversation there were some thoughts that maybe he wanted to turn back. "Let's roll over to the next hut which should be about half way.  Have lunch, then reassess" I said.  Knowing well that at halfway there would be no reason to turn back and completion would be the obvious option.

Leaving the hut we climbed steadily toward a low saddle.  The nice benched track gradually faded to become a more 'standard' NZ back-country trail.  Wading through Bracken, Fern and 'Bastard-Grass' we'd attempt to navigate the occasional Ongaonga though frequently found ourselves in all-too regular couplings with the plant.

Do not high-five the Ongaonga.
It does not want to be your friend

For those not familiar with Ongaonga, it's a native stinging nettle like any other only much worse.  It's embrace will send you into uncontrollable bouts of twitching and shouting like if Michael J Fox had tourettes.  Pain so exquisite that you often wouldn't feel it for the 1st few moments like a really good nut-shot.  To put it another way, when Adolf Hitler, Malaria and Couscous get together for drinks they don't invite Ongaonga because he's a bit of a dick.  That plant is proof that there is a god and he hates us.

The jog just went next-level.  As well as concentrating on foot placement and the usual challenges of not falling on my face, I now had to identify the plants as they flew towards me and establish in an instant whether or not touching one of them would make me throw up on myself.

Cresting the saddle we were greeted with a loud Stag roar in the near proximity to our left.  I seldom hear large animals in the bush so it was cool to know we were sharing the terrain with wildlife of some significance.  It reminded me too that we were in a heavily hunted area of NZ and our presence only added to an already 'target-rich' environment.  To this end I'd regularly pause to ensue Michael was close-by and decided now was a good time to remove my novelty moose antlers.

Central Te Hoe Hut.  Beaut spot.

At 1pm we pulled into the beautiful clearing that housed the Central Te Hoe Hut.  Roughly halfway 'round this was a good opportunity for a lunch break.  Hurried calculations meant at our current speed we'd likely not see the end of the trail before 8pm and certain darkness.  We ensured our stop was a brief one taking only as long as required to demolish a box of Girl Guide cookies and make a short note in the Hut Intentions book before we once again took to the trail.  Ahead was a 500m climb on what we assumed would be the worst of the track.

Expecting pretty ordinary trail I wasn't disappointed.  Too overgrown to run it became a slow trudge into the hill before Bracken and Fern lousy with Bush Lawyer eventually gave way to tree roots.  The ascent lessened into the regular undulation of any given ridge-line.  We weren't making good time and I felt a slight sense of urgency as we fell further behind schedule.  Neither of us had any real concerns with this other than the obvious discomfort of a longer and harder day than anticipated.  I carried a light thermal, a few spare gels and that shitty headlamp so what did I really have to worry about?

I'd jog ahead, take some pictures and wait for Michael who was painfully losing the bottom of his feet.  At some point I tired of waiting and just decided to cruise on to the next hut.  Rounding a bend to cross a creek I startled a buck in the scrub just below me.  I was hardly moving quietly and he'd taken his time to respond to my approach before crashing through the undergrowth to put space between us.  It was the 1st time I'd startled a deer in the bush before and it was quite a special experience seeing a large wild animal like that so close.

Wise Mr Owl thinks we're insane

About a kilometer on I passed a hunter who had just helicoptered in without his rifle.  Upon explaining my recent encounter I could sense him regretting his decision to be unarmed.  After hearing our run-plan he very quickly pointed out that we wouldn't make it.  Thanks for the vote of confidence mate.  Stopping at Upper Te Hoe hut at a quarter to four with a little over half of the circuit complete I was getting a little anxious.  I knew we'd be moving in darkness at some point and I was eager to get as much done before nightfall as possible.  Separation wasn't an option and if one or both of us were to have a misadventure of some sort, being very lightly equipped, this could lead to certain tragedy.

Tracks in high places.  Cliff hanger trail running.

Michael rolled into Upper Te Hoe and mentioned several of his now countless ailments.  "That boy is made of Bulsa Wood and Sandpaper" I said to myself, "though he never really complains about his suffering."  I waited while he refueled and made some quick 'running' repairs.  If you ever get the chance, ask Michael why he was wearing only 3 socks.

Another 500m climb awaited us, this one made exciting by a narrow track cut into the side of a cliff-face making for spectacular vertical drop-offs.  Moving quickly I'd often not assess a dangerous section until after I had passed it. At one stage clearing a narrow slip on lose stones with maximum penalty for failure I looked back and thought how much my brothers 'worry-gland' wouldn't have enjoyed this section of track.

The previous hut book had emphatically highlighted peoples disgust of the condition of the trail through this and previous sections of the track.  To which I had written "Yeah-nah, it aint that bad. Harden up peach xx oo".  All the same, I was aware that I was heading into another slower leg with the likelihood of more bush bashing than Dirk Diggler.  To my surprise cut grass greeted us at one of the junction tops and plainly some maintenance had recently been done.  I explained to Michael that I was thirsty having only drunken a little over 2l of water in the 10hrs we'd been moving.  The map showed it wasn't far to a stream so I pressed on in search of water startling a few more deer along the way.  I was feeling surprisingly good after hydration.  Other than some lingering tingling from the Ongaonga, thorough exfoliation of my legs at the hands of the Bracken, a few spills of claret courtesy of Bush Lawyer, and more bastard grass than seemed necessary,  I was in great shape.

Bastard Grass being a bastard.

The descents weren't entirely awesome however as my shoe for the day was a pair of saucony's trainers not at all built for trail use.  Comfortable; yes, though anything beyond about -20% and they turned into Saucony Road Ski's that would see me slide so frequently I could've been at Sochi.

As I continued toward Upper Whirinaki Hut light was starting fade and direct sunlight had long since fallen to shadow but the track was becoming more runnable.  Leaping down into a creek bed I almost landed on a deer which took off with significant motivation into the thicket.  I could still easily pick out the trail and planning foot placement was no real challenge. The last 2km to the hut had been 'realigned' and I covered it comfortably within 15 minutes.  I was greeted by 2 likely lads standing on the deck listening for wildlife in need of a lead injection.  The last signs of daylight were extinguished and the first stars could be seen as we talked about the section of trail separating us from Michael's car.  I explained that my companion was suffering a bit though the only appearance of it was in his speed, he'd likely not make a fuss but if they could help ensure he was alright I'd be grateful.  To this end when Michael did arrive having covered that last 2km in almost 45 minutes he was served with hot noodles, painkillers, strapping tape and the encouraging news that the next hut was only about 8km away.  A thick cloud greeted each exhaled breath and it was plainly too cold for me to be without a thermal.  A stationary moment would be followed by shivering so I taxed a spare polar fleece from one of the guys who also gave me a couple AAAs for my headlamp and before long we were back on the trail.

My GPS was starting to show fatigue too and it read 65km before I decided to retire it to my pack.  Signposts indicating around 24km remained meaning we'd see close to 90km for the completed loop... ..Though it wasn't yet completed.

Complete and total darkness making it difficult to navigate let alone run.  I was moving slowly behind Michael with my headlamp held in my hand at arms length to reduce the throw of flood required by the fading LEDs to crudely illuminate little more than his heels.  We lost the trail countless times bashing around in a stream bed with ever growing frustration as we clambered over debris a detritus.  At some point Michael fell and half submerged himself vertically.  I slipped through some tree-fall badly hitting my shin then later off a 1m bank.  Fun times.  We were both working hard on our advanced use of profanity.  This was the certain low-point however there was still a lot to be grateful of.  I still had 2 gels and a nutbar and the weather was perfect for a night of aimlessly bashing around in the wilderness.  At some stage the batteries were changed in my headlamp and sweet relief came in the form of pretty average visibility  We eventually stumbled upon a Permolat that preceded a bridge and track junction that brought an end to the hardship.  The trail now opening up as we closed on Central Whirinaki Hut.

10pm.  Tragedy, Pizza Hut Rotorua is closing.

A few packs on the deck indicated the hut was likely tenanted but being that it was now past 10pm they would all be asleep.  We didn't bother to disturb them pausing only to check the time and signpost that indicated 16kms remained.  If the sign was to be believed around a 5hr walk out, on what we knew would be lovely groomed trail.  Typically I'd run around a third of the posted walk time but being that I had already been moving for over 14hrs and knowing that darkness brings all sorts of complexities to running trail I figured it would be ambitious to assume I'd see the exit before midnight.

I still had a heap of running in me and I'd jog down the track then turn my headlamp off and wait for Michael to catch up.  This happened 3 or 4 times over the 1st 30 minutes after departing the hut before I asked for the car key.  We broke the risks down and there really wasn't much that could go wrong for either of us save a lighting mechanical or surprise injury.  So close to safety we agreed that there really was nothing to fear.  Unrestrained for the 1st time in my day I felt as though I was running sub-5-minute kms. Really flying through the dimly lit forest.  More likely I was running 7s but it felt fast none the less.  A reflective Permolat flew passed me and I imagined seeing "5km" written on it.  Confirmation of this came soon after in the form of a "4.8km" then a "4.6km". "Brilliant!" I thought, "I'm almost there!".

My watch said 23:48 as I flew into the carpark. Not quite midnight I had done the last 14km in around 80mins (5:40s).  Not bad I suppose given I was in the dark with minimal illumination and had been on the move for 16hrs.  The cold embraced me the moment I stopped and the time taken to unlock the car door was enough to bring me to shiver.  My ambitious plan to find a river to wash in and get fresh water was thwarted by my immediate desire to sleep.  Struggling to make any good decisions at all I managed to put on some clean clothes and wrap up in a woolen blankie on the front seat and wait for Michael.  I hurriedly forced in 2 oranges and a Ginger beer before sleep took me entirely by surprise.

A light blue light awoke me just after 2am indicating that Michael had made it out safely.  His final 14km taking something like twice as long as mine.  Made all the more exciting by a slight detour for some extra darkness and misery.  Michael was ok though and even though his feet had fallen to bits some 10 hours prior.  His outing some 19 hours in total, easily a record and worthy of a mention in his 'stupidity' almanac.

Somehow neither of us nor the Nissan Patrol crashed out on the journey home.  Arriving at my house exactly 24 hours after leaving it I dragged myself through the shower and into the spare room for a few hours of much needed rest.

I guess there are lessons to be learned from the experience.  Probably the big one being complacency.  Experienced with long trail runs I have had numerous days out that I was much better equipped for.  The problem with regularly carrying gear you never use is that you begin to forget to bring it.  I should probably have taken a hard-shell, a bivy bag and possibly a 1-season bag as I sometimes do however none of these would have actually helped me in this instance.  Rather, they would have given me alternatives to pressing on in the dark.  I should have assumed it would take longer and be further than anticipated and a good headlamp with spare batteries is the obvious fix.  I really surprised myself with my fitness and running strong after hr 16 is good feedback heading toward a trail marathon in May and a full club season.  I finished the day having drunk less than 4 lt of water which is really not a lot considering it was hot and dry for the majority of the time.  I suspect a wall would have greeted me were I to push this much further.

When I go to do this loop again I think I'll fast-pack it and overnight at Central Te Hoe.  When I do this I'll be sure to invite you all along because if this blog has taught you anything it's how much you'd love to share in an adventure with me.  Right?

Eight THOUSAND!!! O_O

More sweet trails from the morning running

I reckon the guy that works for DoC drives to work each day in his bulldozer.  Even the slips are benched.

This tree stand vertically UPSIDE DOWN.  It's not attached to anything, completely self supported by impact from where it javlined itself into the trail.  Very impressive.

That's a river down there.  A good jump and I'd make it.  Approx 100m down.  The track about 1m wide with SWEET drop-offs.

Some crinkly green bits probably so lousey with deer you'd be better leaving the rifle at home and bringing the Border collie in for a muster.

Tu55ock-Яeverse

The Tussock Traverse is an iconic trail race starting below the Tukino ski field on Mt Ruepehu and finishing on the lawn of the Grand Château, Whakapapa. The course spans 27km of spectacular alpine terrain with rolling hills of scoria, tussock, sand and volcanic rock the likes of which can only be found in the North Island's National Park. Almost entirely above the tree-line the run has unobstructed views to every horizon offering a vista beyond compare. The ideal environment to spend hours throwing yourself at the terrain across the famous "Northern Circuit" trail.

I first ran the event in 2008. I had only recently pushed away from the dinner table and my running career was in it's infancy. All the same I fell in love with the Tussock Traverse. Everything about the event was worthy of my time and money. Under the watchful eye of Jason Cameron (the Goat), The Tongariro Natural History Society played host and the majority of your entry went to supporting environmental endeavours to restore or maintain the parks natural beauty. It felt less like a race and more like a run for charity. Despite the hardship I finished well and thoroughly enjoyed myself swearing I would be back. The drink bottle handed to me on the finish line says I was 6th in a time of 2:16.

In 2009 with another years training under my belt I decided to forgo the lengthy bus trip to the start line primarily for financial reasons but partly because the journey is a long one filled with frequent toilet stops and nervous excitement. What better way to savour a 27km trail run in mind blowing scenery then to run it twice?

A pedestrian trip to Tuakino meant a pre-dawn start under clear skies in the crisp alpine morning. Running away from an abandoned finish line on your own under the light of your headlamp seemed like a silly idea only until your legs wake up and you fall into that steady rhythmic flow of efficient movement across groomed walking trails. The Château and Whakapapa Village asleep behind me I climbed alone through beech forest and past the thunderous Taranaki falls barely visible in the surrounding darkness. At an enforced leisurely pace it's hard not to be slowed by the breathtaking views eastward across the Desert Rd to the Kaimanawa National Park and as the sun slowly crept over the distant Kaweka's shadows melted away around me illuminating valleys soon to be filled with athletes, backpacks, sweat and hardship.

The first signs of life greeted me with surprise some 23km into my morning. A pair of completely naked marshals confused to see someone in full race trim headed in the wrong direction. Their nudity perhaps equal to the insanity of my effort to save a $20 bus fare and as such I thought little of it only hoping I wouldn't see bush again until last 2km of my rapidly approaching race.

Post race theatrical collapse

And race I did. After a 3:06 warm up I eased into a solid 27km effort back to my car. Arriving on at the finish in 2^nd place in 2:18, less than 10 minutes adrift of the winner and only 2 minutes slower than my time for half the distance a year prior. The mercury topped 30 degrees that day and I remember hearing of a marshal that required recovery from the course. My post race cramp and inability to walk testimony to the rigours of a long day on the trail under a clear January sky.

The following year I returned in the best condition of my life and the 55km 'there-and back' (now affectionately known as the “Tu55ock-Яeverse“) would round out a 207km training week. This time I was accompanied by up and coming ultra distance start Dawn Tuffery who ensured we maintained a relaxed 27km warm-up again reaching the start line in 3:06. Another sweltering day battling the elements but a good result crossing the line 1^st in a time of 2:07. Only a couple of minutes adrift of the then race record.

2011 and my running career on the shelf while I took some time out from the rigours of ultra distance it was an enthusiastic Darren Blackwell that carried the torch completing the Reverse in difficult conditions but keeping the dream alive.

A typical day in Tongariro National Park (Darren Blackwell) Photo supplied.

Another year on and 2012 I returned to run the Tu55ock-Яeverse that, with the help of a it's own Facebook group, was growing in popularity. Always a glutton for punishment Darren was back along with a handful of deranged souls keen to get their own double dose of lush alpine desert. The return from my running hiatus had been a short one and I was lucky to even complete the run suffering a multitude of ailments including full-blown stomach mutiny. Glad to have my 3^rd Reversy done I've become a little disillusioned by the constant track upgrades eroding some of the intrepid nature of this challenge replacing it with a vanilla sanitized McDonalds serving. Now in the hands of Total Sport the even continues to grow.  My only hope is that the Natural History Society continues to receive the support of the runners and event promoters using the park.  The 2012 event was a tough one for me physically and mentally having never been hobbled to a walk and effective DNF.  It left some what of a bad taste in my mouth and it may be of surprise to hear that I'm not in a hurry to go back and make amends with the reversy.  Perhaps our paths will cross but most probably not in 2013.

The Reverse will always remain a unique challenge in my favorite scenery. The thought of running full race distance to the start line still having obvious appeal I may cast my eyes further afield and look for an even more idiotic venture.

At glance at the Tu55ock-Яeverse facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/events/266982303413739) and it looks as though the 2013 run will be well-attended once again and I encourage anyone looking to save $20 and get twice the value to sign up and show their interest. The first 27km are free and represents easily the best value running in NZ.

Inov8 Talon 212 review

The not-so-eponymous review of Inov8 Talon 212's

The Good: Legendary Inov8 blister-free comfort with snow-tire grip.

The Bad: Narrow 'European' fit not ideal for my inbred webs.

Epic XC shoe and outstanding trail hold in the wet. Would buy again. 4.5 stars

Take from box, throw at trail!

It was a couple of days prior to the T42 when I took possession of my Talon212s. Too soon to give them a genuine outing I decided not to risk it and slid them back into their box.

There they stayed for some time until one wet weekend in June they got their first introduction to Kaimai muck and some classic kiwi trail.

As soon as I slid my foot into them the alarm bells sounded. My abnormally wide foot was being squeezed across the metatarsals and while the fit everywhere else was fine I was worried that my feet would feel like my knuckles would were I to sit on my fist for an hour. I made some lower lace adjustments and headed out with no option but to see what the next 90 minutes would bring. My route was a popular loop from the end of Hot Springs road near KatiKati in the Bay of Plenty. Overnight rain has made the typically wet rooty mess that is the Kaimai ranges into the slippery mud-fest I was anticipating. An acid test of any shoe I was eager to see how my first ever pair of Inov8s would fare.

The brand is legendary for all but guaranteeing a blister-free debut run so I wasn't at all surprised to feel no movement or heat spots that precede blistering.

As the trail climbed closer to the days high point the gnarled filth worsened until the route resembled an elaborate doodle by H.R Giger. No complaints from my 212s that were really being put through their paces. The racy yellow decals and matching laces now dark brown matching everything else below my knees.

If you've ever seen this particular model you'll immediately notice the aggressive rubber tread akin to the sprigs on your old footy boots. It was going to take more than the Kaimai quagmire for me to loose traction and so it was that I reached Te Rereatukahia hut without incident. Not a single fall and nary a slide worth mention, my shoes had shown more grip than a teenage boy with an lingerie catalogue. An easy downhill roller back to the car and the only remaining test that of exposed rock made moist by cloud cover and drizzle. Not a perfect score here but it's hard to imagine any shoe laughing off a surface more slippery than Winston Peters dipped in Teflon. It is possible perhaps that the actual amount of shoe-to-surface contact is reduced as the shoes hostile tread pattern is more at home biting through trail than it is providing rubber-to-rock adhesion.

General Use

Many kilometers of testing terrain would follow that first outing including some ultra distance at The Great Cranleigh Kauri run and I can happily report that all 10 toe nails survived and no great hardship was endured by my metatarsals.

212s in full flight at Cambridge XC

Perhaps where the 212s have been a real stand out shoe for me has been in the Harrier Cross County Season. Where in years gone by club runners have screwed longer spikes into their track shoes and ski'd their way around paddocks each winter there now seems an endless number of choices born out of this crazy thing called trail running. The Talon212s have become my default race shoe when a wintry Saturday requires thermal layers, a tough pill and shoes with more teeth than cello filled movie courtesy of Steven Spielberg.

Wear

The wear on my pair so far is minimal and having heard story of people struggling to good mileage out of some of their other Inov8s I can report no real problem despite my fears that my fat feet would burst out the sides within the 1^st 10 minutes. The tread too appears to be holding up fine and no sprigs appear broken and wear is minimal however I am guessing much more than a half marathon on road and they would be blunter than a celebrity roast of David Hasselhoff.

Even content in 'Clydesdale mode' in an Ultra Marathon.  My legs may not have survived by my toenails did. 

Ultra long post

Wow what a weekend. So much to go through, apologies if this blog goes into over time, take a bit out of it now and come back later if you can only absorb my rambling in small serves. Over 3000 words, if only I cared this much about study when I was a young man...

A long long time ago

I guess every story should start at the beginning and finish at the end so let me get back to where it all began for Kauri70. Somewhere around late winter I decided to put a circle around this event. I'd had a good 2012 with pretty consistent training and no real setbacks. I was getting all my Sunday long runs done (2hrs of approx 30km on road, always always always in the rain). I was doing most of my speed work and the club results were shaping up alright. I started cutting through the Hawks Senior Mens leaderboad and by the time I got to Nelson for NRRC I was ranked 2^nd or 3^rd in club behind the world class Aaron Pulford. A good performance at NRRC and not too much recovery lead into the 1 month countdown to Kauri.

Drop the Bass

You can't run 32:xx for 10km or 15:xx for 5 without the right amount of speed and base and a 72 minute Half Marathon was another good indicator that I was actually pretty fit. My only concern being the lack of supreme muscle endurance required to keep the acid on in the closing hours of an Ultra Marathon. With only 3 or 4 weeks separating NRRC and Kauri I had to shake up the training somewhat. Unfortunately any run longer than 2hrs would lead to a very uncomfortable evening in the dog house. I needed a plan.

Keeping it stupid simple

What I did was a 3 day program comprising of 2hrs/day on back-to-back days with a 60-90 minute easy day between (or occasional rest day, perhaps 1 in every 10). Repeat. This poultry 10-12hr per week program would really only be a thin veneer on my pre-existing fitness. So what else could I do? Perhaps some psychological sandbagging to confuse the competition (Dennis deMonchy). Or was I really just lacking in confidence? I'm not entirely sure.

IF?

A gym-rat mate was mucking around with Intermittent Fasting as a way to trick his body into eating it's own fat reserves and I had been monitoring his really quite successful progress. About two and a half weeks prior to Kauri I decided to give it a nudge and without much effort went from 74.5kg to 69-ish by race day. Easy 5kg. That'll help for sure. If you want to know more about IF let me know, it's interesting stuff and worked for me. It's not without it's faults and any shock loading has repercussions. Glad to see the back of that lard though. I wasn't too worried about muscle mass but could've rocked some BCAA to prevent muscle loss.

Northward Bound!

So Friday before race day I had an early start for a charity breakfast to kick-off BuddyDay. Those that read my previous blog will be familiar with this. In short, Buddy Day is a visual reminder of child abuse and a conversation starter for us all to get talking about the very serious problem we have in NZ. I picked up my corflute Buddy and did a few interviews for various newspapers and radio stations then legged it to town to get me some pancakes. If you're the sensitive sort you may want to skip ahead. The conversation with the chef at Iguana went something along the lines of:

IM TURNING YOU INTO POO!

Me: “Sink that shit in maple syrup yo”
Chef: “Dude, I'm gonna f%*k that shit up with maple syrup”

Holy hells, so much maple goodness I nearly died. I didn't so I ordered another plate. 2 serves of maple syrup ft. pancakes I headed home to boarded the Hoogeveen machine. Destination Fletcher Bay!

Somehow we didn't kill anyone or get driven off the road during the scenic but dangerous journey to the very northern tip of Coromandel. Fletcher Bay really turned it on for us. Word around the camp ground was that we weren't allowed to go up to 'The Shearers Quarters'. I got settled in, had a quick dip and got maximum time off feet (because 4hrs in a car wasn't enough).

Fletcher Bay.  So perty.

Just some Buddy I used to know

Dennis deMonchy arrived and I encouraged him to join us at casa del Hoogeveen beach front real estate. An offer he gladly accepted and it was good chewing the fat with him. It became immediately apparent the seriousness he was taking the forthcoming days race. He even had a map (Why had I not even looked at a map once? I didn't even know where Fletchers Bay was).

Another serve of pancakes in maple syrup (not kidding) and it was time for bed.

Race Day

The alarm kicked off at 4:35am. I'd like to say it woke me but it didn't. I was perfectly relaxed all night with the sound of surf and occasional bird call to settle me but for obvious reasons I had another restless night. About my 3^rd in a row. Never ideal leading into a long race. I should learn to worry less. Am I worrying about worry now? Oh dear. Medicinal Marijuana perhaps?

In all likelihood I was probably on the brink of a diabetic coma.

I quickly packed away my tent following a breakfast of, guess what, pancakes and maple syrup! Oh god, never again. Final race briefing wasn't at the Shearers Quarters (we're not allowed to go the Shearers Quarters). Instead in the still calm preceding daybreak Andy from ARC gave us our final instructions which only some of us heeded before setting off in the wrong direction. I blame Dougies enthusiasm.

Stage 1

I had decided I wasn't going to need a headlamp since the 5:30am kick-off meant LEDs were fairly ineffective at illuminating the mostly visible flat running surface. I forced myself to walk much of the early inclines. It was going to be a tough day in terms of terrain and hoped savings now could be spent later. It wasn't long before deMonchy and Dougie were ahead and at times out of sight. I was running comfortably on the flatter sections and flowing down descents soon catching Dougie and eventually Dennis as well. At a switchback in the road I laughed about taking a shortcut across a short section of grass. deMonchy encouraged me, or at least I think he did, I was already bashing through the long grass and pulling myself up the far bank before I had time to really think it through. Somewhere in that 30 second detour Dougie fell off the back of deMonchy who surged up the road to catch me. Then there were two.

Duo

This is how we'd both anticipated the race to eventuate. Dennis and I sorting it out over 7-something hours. He wanted me to go. I knew that. I wanted him to lead but he wouldn't.

I should say at this stage I have a huge amount of love and respect for DdM. He's a well spoken, kindhearted father of 2 and wouldn't wish ill of anyone. As an athlete he has achieved some amazing things and a fantastic year of training and racing saw him as the likely favorite to take the Kauri title. If I was going to lose a race to someone, DdM would be near the top of the list.

I had spent several sleepless nights fighting with the notion that he could in all likelihood beat me convincingly over 70km. Some had said the battle was 'too close to call'. These sorts of comments from people that knew us both well had my confidence wavering. I knew large sections of the race would favor Dennis's strength and technical running ability. There would be areas where I could press my advantage but they would be few and far between and not at all geared toward me cutting him down in the closing stages. I joked with him that the course was backwards and I'd be happier were it run in the opposite direction without all the lump rooty bits at the end. And so we rolled ever so slowly though the early hours of the run playing the tedious 'no, you go' game. It was somewhere near Big or Little Sandy bay as we walked up a gradual incline on one of the very rare sealed sections of road when I looked back to see Dennis some meters behind chewing something. It may have been my imagination but I think he was smiling too as if to say 'go on then, go'. I certainly didn't feel like I sped up, I just kind of went from 2^nd gear to 3^rd and in a short space of I time became very alone. Breezing into the 1^st aid station I seemed to have a small but surprising lead.

A couple kms of road later turning into some farmland I looked back to see I had something like 800m. Dennis a still visible speck chugging along consistently. Undoubtedly happy at my choice to burn some matches.

Ahead lay some beautiful burnt red clay bush roads, now catching the light rain. Clay that would gather on the heels of my shoes and form into heavy clumps much to my frustration. As the terrain got steep I figured for certain my slender lead would be eroded by Dennis's powerful running style that consumed most inclines with little effort. The surface was becoming incompatible with my shoe selection and road flats became clay skis as I slid down slick gullies.

Still surprised I couldn't hear Dennis behind me I continued on cautious and slow. I figured it wasn't time to make a race changing 'cut the cord' kind of move and I had to keep telling myself to run as slowly as possible. I would welcome the return of Dennis were it to eventuate in the knowledge I needed to be half way through the race still feeling fresh.

As the 3hr mark approached I check my vitals and I was feeling great albeit a little confused to still be leading. The kms continued to pass slowly and the relentless undulation began to blur together until I crested a hill to find myself completely surrounded by bush clad mountains. Confused as to not see coastline, the ocean or any signs of civilization I started down a notable descent into a no man's land of Kanuka and scrub. Clearing a gate hung so high livestock could easily pass underneath it I began to see signs of life and assume my location to be some kms inland of Waikawau Beach which would later become the starting point for the Kauri 32km event. The 3-4km of gravel that followed were welcome indeed as I could relax into that gentle effortless rhythm of flat road running. Lush. I would later find out that in this short section of road I extended my lead by 3 minutes.

Waikawow

Through the sand-dunes at Waikawau and a couple of familiar faces in the shape of superstar Ruby Muir and her long suffering boyfriend Kristian Day. It meant a lot to see those two and I got a lift from it even if I'm sure they both would've enjoyed it immensely if I were to fall on my face in the soft sand. A couple kms dragged out along the sandy beach forced high by springs, and a short river crossing in the near waist deep waters signalling the end of Waikawau, the beginning of the camp-ground and the start of the most testing 30km in the race. My one woman support crew Jenni Hoogeveen, had taken time out from here pre-32km-race build up to help me into a nice dry pair of Inov8s (Talon212s). A secret mix we refer to as 'never-fade' and a couple Leppins to reload and I was once again off. Not before casting a long look back across 2km of surprisingly empty beach. I said to Jenni “Where's deMonchy? I hope he's alright” as I started to wonder if he hadn't hurt himself or taken a wrong turn. What ever 'hold off and attack late' game he was planning was being very conservatively implemented. The last 30km of this run would be a true test of endurance and strength. Fatigued legs thrown at the tall crinkly bits separating the east and west sides of the Coromandel Peninsula referred to as the Central Divide. Neither the terrain nor my lack of super long run base work would favour me but I still felt pretty good despite a bit of stomach cramp.

I pressed on into one of the longer climbs of the day, a 350m cruise up to the Waikawau lookout. Passing two marshals heading up to their station I chatted about their excuses for not being in the days racing.

This climb would go to make up only a small percent of the days total 2800m with 1200m still ahead. Were that all the days climbing in nice big chunks I would've fared much better. Instead I suffered 10m gains that would immediately be followed by 9m descents that would instantly turn back into 10m climbs again. Breaking any hope of settling into a regular jogging rhythm. I hoped to suffer it less by making it end a whole lot sooner.

The uppy-downy nature of the ridge continued unabated and my Inov8s were getting their 1^st real test and slick exposed rock surfaces made treacherous by the misty rain became a genuine challenge. Each surprise slip would cause a tired muscle to respond by reflex to keep me and my Buddy upright. Hamstrings and calves fairing the worst as the precursors to cramp began sneaking in. Dark clouds gathering as my stomach felt worse and now a touch of dizziness. Not just once would I shake my head trying to rattle my brain back into the task at hand.

I had earlier said to Dennis that I would be getting my Buddy to the finish line no matter what and so it was here on the ridge above Coromandel town that for the first time I had to really push.

Track markers signalling the remaining distance slowly counted down and knowing the last 6km would be downhill to finish I would run the math on how much work still lay ahead.

“13. OK, so 7km of what ever crap Andy (race director) could throw at me, then 6km easy downhill. Hang in there.”

Joining me was some of the 21km 'Demi' Marathon runners who would offer some words of encouragement or on occasion ask what the purpose of the corflute on my pack was. For the most part I was too ruined to even speak offering little more than an “urrgh” in response to what ever it was they had said. Fingers crossed I would make the finish and be able to explain all at prize giving. Sorry for being rude guys, thanks for your support.

Headed into Kennedy Bay Rd Aid Station

Into the Kennedy Bay Road aid station and I was momentary recharged to see mum and Anne who had made the massive trek to see these few meters of my race. If I had had the energy to spare I would've smiled. Instead I nearly fell backwards drinking a cup of water before staggering back into race mode.

The climb up towards the radio mast is a horrible horrible son-of-a-b$%ch which I've never been able to run. This year barely able to walk as my calves signaled the end to their day like the death throws of a dying cell phone. Some of that hill was walked backwards. Oh dear, what a wuss.

My daughters "champion!" hands.

Rooted

2km of crappy slippery rooty 'technical section' through to the trig above Coromandel town would be heralded by a sign stating “lift your feet”. Seriously? More cramp and a few near falls as I navigated that lumpy twisty foot-grabbing rubbish to the races highest point some 560m above the township. Passing the trig I turned into the 'Success Trail' signalling the final descent and 5km to home. A glance at the watch and I was shocked to see I was well in touch of the course record. Shocked because the morning had been so restrained and the majority of the race had either been a self enforced go-slow or dizzy stagger. Finally free from the roller-coaster of up and down I poured what remaining leg speed I had into the generous downhill gradient. Into town and 2km of beautiful flat pavement and the applause of residents who view ARC competitors as a familiar occurrence on the roads around their picturesque coastal village. 6:51, a slight improvement of 11 minutes on the previous years record time. That will do for now, certainly easy beats for any real athlete considering the race in the years to come.

uncarbonated re-hydration

Somehow my UltrAspire Omega had clung on to my Buddy the entire day and apart from some water-based paint issues she had come through pretty much unscathed.  Her story is this one, her adventure was epic and without complaint.

Wrapped that I was able to maintain the race lead across the line for my sponsor BarefootInc and of course Buddy Day. Glad that I could finally get horizontal and make a start on my final '6-jar' challenge for the day.

Credits

deMonchy would finish some 50 minutes back, no doubt easing off in the last few hours with his next race target coming to the fore. He'll pull up well, his near 8 hr run being just another day in the office for the rising star of trail ultras. The Goat a few weeks away will certainly suit his technical running ability and the supreme aerobic base he carries into that event will surely see him run a massive personal best time. I didn't have much of a chance to converse with him afterwards but I do sincerely wish him all the best as he continues to improve.

Buddy with a story to tell

A huge thanks to my primary sponsor BarefootInc who celebrated a fantastic weekend with Dawn Tuffery taking out the womens ultra and trail goddess Ruby Muir comfortably demolishing the field in the 32km event.

Me and the legendary DT

Thank you so much ChildMatters for encouraging me to help raise awareness of child abuse in the community. I hope my few poignant words at prize giving may go some way to getting such an important message out.

Of course the Hoogeveens who were with me all the way there and back again.

Thanks to everyone that has supported me on the journey thus far. It's only by standing on your shoulders am I able to reach up for the stars I seek. My beautiful and patient wife who endures more hardship than any, and those two wee tackers that will very soon grow to know their dad as the manic supercharged lunatic they have to share a house with.

Buddy Day vs 70km Kauri Ultra

Earlier this week it dawned on me that my 70km Kauri Ultra would coincide with Buddy Day.  Buddy Day is an annual event organised by the ‘not for profit’ charity ‘ChildMatters’. The purpose it is to promote awareness of child abuse in the community by creating a visual reminder through the use of core-flute cut-outs of kids.  Over 335 buddies have been created and distributed to kids across the Waikato to name and decorate.  My Buddy ‘Denise’ was styled by three 11 year old girls from Peachgrove Intermediate and she comes with a diary telling her story and depicting some of the adventures she has been on prior to coming to me.

I am privileged to have Denise for the weekend and have strapped her to my UltraAspire Omega pack which I plan to wear for the duration of the Kauri Ultra.

The forecast is for rain.  Lots and lots of rain.  However bad it gets though I will remain aware the whole time that my hardship is less than a small fraction of the hardship my Buddy represents.

It goes like this: Some 335 buddies have been created and distributed to ‘Carers’.  Each of the 355 buddies represents five confirmed cases of child abuse in the Waikato alone.  That’s an important sentence so let’s cover it off again only this time with emphasis. EACH of the 355 buddies represent FIVE CONFIRMED cases of child abuse in the Waikato ALONE.

That’s the shitty end of almost 2000 times a child’s innocence has been stolen by almost 2000 perpetrators.  Reported by almost 2000 people and many more that probably knew or suspected some abuse was going on.  IN THE WAIKATO ALONE.

New Zealanders are very proud of our identity in the world, we cheer when Sonny-Bill Carter kicks a goal and the silver fern, national flag and haka all fill me with a huge sense of pride.  Behind every effigy of what it is to be a kiwi though stands one truly horrific statistic that we are world leaders in the abuse of our children.  Each of our kids has a New Zealand made logo and we’re all responsible for everything that represents.

Our report card for child abuse doesn’t read “must try harder”, instead it reads “WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON????”

You hear the term “it takes a village to raise a child”.  It takes more than a village to keep them safe.  Everyone in the community whether they have kids or not is responsible for the wellbeing of all children.  The crux of buddy day isn’t to wear undies on the outside of your pants and put on a cape then run off and shine light in dark places, it’s about starting the conversation.  The first steps we need to take as adults is to recognize our problem and start talking about it.  If my 70km Buddy ‘Denise’ has started that conversation for you then I’ve made a start but still not done enough.  No one has until we can all watch the 6 o’clock news without shouting at the TV because yet another kid has “fallen out of bed to their death”.

Probably Not

Less than two weeks out from Kauri and heading towards a nice long taper it’s time to reflect on the work done and put some thought into the race itself.

Firstly thanks for supporting the event.  It’s one of the country’s coolest trail runs and a long standing favourite not just of mine.  As trail runners we are spoiled for choice now and there being so many races in the calendar we have the fortunate opportunity to pick and choose what we will train for and target next.  It’s good to see people voting with their feet and support this classic event.  Special thanks to all my friends who have put up with me banging on about it for the last couple of months, I look forward to seeing you all on the start line (and finish line if I make it).

I started kicking around the prospect of running Kauri70 some months ago when I began to question whether I could manage a 70km ultra given several years absence from genuine ultra-distance running.  I’ve come a long way to answering that question with the meagre training I’ve cobbled together since National Road Relays and I think I can say with reasonable certainty, “probably not”.

70km is a hell of a long way if you lay it out on a flat surface in a straight line.  Throw some rough terrain in the mix with more than a handful of significant climbs and we’re looking at an effort more akin to 100km.  I have heard people describe the 1^st half of Kauri as a marathon warm up to the 32km event.  I know from experience that the 32km event is effectively your marathon time (minus a couple of minutes).  So what we’re looking at in the 70km run is basically 2 marathons.  Ouch.

If I were to run a marathon right now it would go poorly.  If I were then to turn around and run another one with no more rest than the time taken to change my shoes it would go even worse.  So what are we looking at then?  Probably 2x 3:45 or there abouts.  Something in the vicinity of 7.5hrs of running.  Can I run for 7.5hrs?  “probably not”

Then there’s the competitive side to the 70km event.  Many are touting a showdown of significant proportions in the way of Suter vs. Dennis DeMonchy.  Unfortunately this isn't really shaping up to eventuate.  For numerous reasons not least that I have done far less mileage than I should leading into something like this.  DeMonchy is in great shape having recently plucked the scalp of Grant Guise while taking a win at the K-Gorge Ultra.  I had the chance to get a recent training run in with Dennis and having had a brief look at his calves as they disappeared effortlessly up the hill in front of me I was able to quickly ascertain that I was bringing a pocket knife to a gun fight.  We laughed about how he would by me a dozen beers if he beat me at Kauri and I'm glad it’s now documented on this blog for all to see.  12 Monteith Goldens will do nicely thanks Monkey.

I’d like to say I have a realistic shot of sneaking away and putting the hurt on Dennis but sadly the course is the exact opposite of what I require to press an advantage.  Were we just running the 1^st half of the 70 I’d be the obvious choice for the win.  Just the 2^nd half and my odds are pretty good too.  Even the course in reverse would see me having half a shot at the win.  But alas, 38 generous kms into 32kms full of vertical gain and hardship will expose my very real weaknesses.  If at any point I lose touch with Dennis, even early on, I will need to be realistic and let it go.  It’s probably very quickly going to be an opportunity to reassess why I’m out there.  And why am I out there?  The same reason everyone else is, can I run 70km?  “probably not”

(IMO) Top 6 reasons most cyclists are douchebags

Top 6 reasons most cyclists are douchebags.

In no particular order...

Reason 1 - Say "Hi" back you rude bastard.
As a runner I frequent the same quiet country roads as countless road cyclists.  As a runner I welcome the company and always gesture an obvious hello as well as a verbal one.  Rarely do cyclists return the courtesy.  Rarely do they even release the grip on their handlebars and open out a hand to even acknowledge my existence.  Generally they just continue to stare blankly ahead, their minds entirely committed to being up their own asses or the ass of the guy riding in front of them.

Reason 2 - Leg hair
Are you kidding me you shave your legs?  There isn't a valid reason for this so don't try and make one up.  It helps wounds heal?  Probably, but a little bit of 'once in a blue moon road rash' isn't justification to look like a tool 365 days of the year.  Don't even begin to start with drag coefficients.  You're not pushing 80kph, you're barely breaking 30.  Harden up peach.

Reason 3 - Accessorize
Road cyclists are out there for the same reasons I am, to burn calories and get fitter/stronger/faster. If I want to push myself I run harder or faster or seek out hills in exactly the same manor as a cyclist would seeking a similar result.  Why then do I not wear a swoopy helmet, wrap around sunglasses, skin tight clothing, gloves that go all the way up my arm, and best of all, socks that go on the outside of my shoes?  Shorts, a t-shirt and some haggard old shoes now brown and torn beyond recognition.  These are the things I need to go for a run and the rare occasions I dust off my bike, these too are the things I need to go for a ride.

Don't even get me started on the difference in weight between one set of pedals and another.  You could lose more weight with a satisfying burp than you can changing bike parts.  "It all adds up".  Sure it does but the fact that you're moving an object along a horizontal plane made nearly frictionless by 2 massive wheels means it adds up then gets divided by 0.  Take a dump before your next ride and save yourself $10,000

Reason 4 - Gear Nazi's
Even cyclists themselves complain about this one.  Judging each other by the cost of their addiction is like one junkie spending twice as much for their point of coke because it kills just a few more brain cells.  One of the best feelings in the world is peeling past someone that has shelled out several thousand on the very latest carbon fibre fluff.  Made even more rewarding by the fact I'll do it wearing some ripped boardies and a stack hat akin to a freestyle bmxer.  Judge me by my crappy bike and unconventional outfit as you watch me disappear down the road in front of you.

Reason 5 - Cappuccino and a blueberry muffin
Whether you've ridden 20km or 200, you don't need to stop in at a cafe part way through your exercise for cakes and coffee.  You have a mobile food trolley that could potentially feed an african nation.  There's a pocket in the back of your shirt with space for a bagel and about 4 drink holders with ample room for a thermos of harden-the-fuck-up.  I've burned over 30,000Kj in ONE run and carried everything I needed to get it done.  You're not too cool for a backpack or a wicker basket, you just think you are.

Reason 6 - I was only cheating because everyone else was.
That's not an excuse.  If you didn't like it you wouldn't have done it.  No one held you down and put the needle in your arm.  Just say no.  Your ego didn't need the glory more than your conscious needed to be ignored.  You're not just cheating yourself, you're cheating everyone that believes in you.