Friday, June 28, 2013

Mt Peel

I have been eagerly anticipating getting my teeth (or maybe more accurately my feet) stuck into some of the stunning mountain trails that the South Island has to offer.  Not letting the recent small snow fall put me off, I set out to explore the nearby slopes of Mt Peel.

The dusting of snow that had prettily adorned the fields around my house had long since melted, but as I neared the foot hills, the road-side patches turned into road-covering patches.  In my excitement at hitting the mountain slopes, I missed to turn off for the car park and ended up fording a small torrent and dashing off up a side road, ankle deep in snow, only to discover that it came to a dead end with no sign of the Mt Peel trail in sight.

I had been carefully watching the weather forecasts and waited for a day with the clearest of skies, and little chance of changeable weather.  My parents, both avid and accomplished trampers and mountaineers, instilled a healthy fear-come-respect for the mountains and alpine environment in us from a young age.  This often took the form of Dad telling us a gruesome story of young and unprepared trampers loosing their way in bad weather (and usually over not very difficult terrain), only to be found huddled together the next day, frozen to death.  Needless to say, such tales have bred a desire to enjoy and explore the outdoors in as safe and pro-survival manner as possible.  Consequently I packed extra food, poly-props, a survival blanket, fluorescent and reflective running gear (to place on the snow or in open area's to alert would-be searchers to my location), a lighter and first aid kit.  All of this I carried on top of my 1-3L of water, hat, gloves and waterproof/windproof jacket.  Needless to say, I am getting good at running with a reasonable weight on my back.  Survival and preparedness can only be a good thing.

In my mind I imagined an steep, but enjoyable jaunt through snow scattered peaks to reach the summit and loop back down the opposite ridge line back to where I started.  Once I conceded defeat with my first foray, I returned to the car, re-forded the stream/river, found the car park and set off.  Much to my delight, the number of cars indicated that there were several other keen outdoors-people already enjoying the mountain - not bad for a Monday!

The first part of the trail climbed steadily through forest, with plenty of mud, and increasingly steep sections interspersed with steps.  I toiled upwards at a steady pace, enjoying getting my sweat on, and loving the technical nature of my first trail run in the south.  Tree roots, shin deep mud and slippery clay banks had me fighting to stay on my toes, and I was excited to have a training ground that would better prepare me for the challenge of future races.



I gained altitude really quickly, and soon large patches of snow began to appear, slashed by the dark mud of the trail (which looked as though several other people had already traversed).  The snow-laden forest sighed and swished as lumps of snow filtered down from the canopy above.  The snow thickened, and began to line the trail more thickly.  I was running on a frozen trail, knee-deep drifts piled on either side.  When ever I slipped (which was occurring with increasing frequency), I would put my arm out to steady myself on what appeared to be solid banks of snow, only to disappear up to the shoulder in the softest white powder you can imagine.  I decided that it was time to don some gloves.



Cliche's about a winter wonderland come to mind, but as I climbed higher and the snow got deeper, I did feel as though I was following some mystic trail through Narnia, or to the North Pole.  This was my first experience of running in snow.  I had looked up advice online about technique, and seen videos and photographs of running hero's like Kilian Jornet bounding through glorious alpine environments, smears of thin snow underfoot, and plenty of gravel or rock in between.   In other words, almost nothing like the now thigh-deep snow that I was starting to run/wade through.  I don't know what I was thinking: that some how the snow on a mountain that peaks at 1000m would not really be very deep? Especially only a couple of days after a record snow fall!


I found that trying to land with my weight evenly distributed across the entire sole of my shoe provided better traction that climbing solely on my toes (which more often than not would slip out from underneath me).  My shoes seemed to be holding up relatively well under the conditions, and my feet were unbelievably warm in their Icebreaker socks despite the fact that my feet were often submerged in snow up to the knee.



I forged on, my progress reduced to a fast walk on the steep sections.  The track formed by other trail-goers got narrower and narrower, and I kept kicking myself on the inner shin/calf area as I tried to keep my speed up (I have some nice bruising now as a souvenir).  As the snow on the side of the trail increased in depth, and I increased in altitude, the views of the Canterbury Plains and the surrounding mountains became more and more breathtaking.  Deviating from the trail meant loosing my legs into drifts up to my hips.  The steep sides of Mt Peel dropped away, and I was awestruck by how high I had climbed in such a short time.  I felt that I was truly on the mountain, and was acutely aware of the height I had gained and my vulnerability in the harsh wilderness.



With less than a kilometer to the peak, I met some trampers descending in the opposite direction.  They kindly asked about my progress and intentions, and informed me that they had been unable to reach the summit when the snow had reached chest depth a little higher up the trail.  I pushed on for a bit, but was starting to get fatigued, and was also wary of making it back down well before I lost the light.  After cresting the next ridge I took some time to enjoy the view, before turning, and beginning my descent.


Running back down through the snow was a lot easier, mostly because my center of gravity was balanced over my heels, and I did a lot less slipping about.  I did still loose my balance from time to time, and would disappear into a cloud of powder as I fell into a drift.  I probably looked mad (and possibly slightly drunk to an observer) but I was having a hell of a good time.  When the snow once again turned to mud, I splashed on, my previously frost-crusted shoes turning progressively black with a layer of forest mud.

All in all my first adventure running in the mountains was a thrilling success.  I look forward to running Mt Peel regularly, and I think it will make an incredible training ground when the snow has become a little more passable.  In the mean time there are hundreds of other trails to explore.  I feel so lucky to be living in this glorious mountain-running playground!


South

Before you get excited/disgusted, this blog post is not the antithesis response to the recent celebrity naming craze following the points of the compass.

I am back in the beautiful South, and close to the mountains, which are blanketed in heaps of snow, and seem to be begging me every day to explore.  I feel as though I have been doing heaps more running since I have been down here, and why wouldn't I, I have finished exams and uni for the time being, and I have an inspirational playground pretty much in my back yard.  Even when I don't make it onto the trails, being able to look at the mountains while I am road running is still thrilling!

Training ground
I keep forgetting it is colder here that it was up north, and even when it is a sunny, blue-skied day, I need to try to remember a hat and gloves, as even on a fast run, the cool air saps away my heat, and I don't warm up    a lot.  I am also very keen to invest in some more Icebreaker (or other sporting Merino wear), as I am finding the wool second to none for keeping me warm even in the snowiest conditions.

It is sunny and crisp here much more than it is grey and rainy, and every vista is picturesque...I suppose you are getting the idea by now, but I feel as though I have landed in some sort of running paradise.  Even on days that I don't intend to go running (like today), I find myself tangled in my ipod cable and jogging down the drive not to return for a couple of hours, it is so easy to feast on the alpine view and just let my legs do their thing.  The only thing that counts as a bit of a running-negative is that there are a lot less races available than there were in the North Island.  Later in the year though, and early next, there are some very exciting trail runs on the race calendar, so I have a lot to look forward to.

Waking up to this view is AMAZING
The area I now live in has a lot of gravel roads, and I am not talking about civilized chip-seal type gravel.  The road workers seem to have spread enormous loads of river bed in every direction, so my ankles and knees are getting a healthy workout on more technical terrain every day.  Incidentally this surface makes for very slow driving (if you don't own a Hilux), and my poor wee car is forced to crawl about at 40km/hr or risk loosing vast sections of it's underbelly to the gravel.

"We never grow tired of each other, the mountains and I" (Li Bai)

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Kepler Challenge

Excitingly, the pricing information for the Kepler Challenge has been made available ($210NZD), and it is not at all long until entries open (6th July).  I am very keen to enter the full 60km race which will be held on 7th December 2013. The anticipation of preparing for and running a new, and amazing trail race.  YIPPEEEEEEEEEE


Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Xterra Wellington Trail Series - West Wind

So this was the last run in the Xterra Wellington Trail Series, and my last official race in the North Island for a while, and after all of the previously fabulous events of the series, the final had a lot to live up to.  I was excited about running through the wind farm, and in the two days leading up to the event, I was dance-around-in-my-seat looking forward to this run (although that might also have had something to do with the hours of studying in the library, and the seat dancing probably wasn't best appreciated by other students, but what did they know, I had an Xterra event to look forward to!).



It was a chilly morning, but luckily the wind was a gentle whisper, and the rain was holding off.  As my wee car struggled up the winding road to the West Wind recreation area, I could see the enormous turbines lazily slashing the air, the rolling hills, and the grey misty ocean - our playground for the morning was revealed.  What an amazing location for a trail run!  After negotiating a parking spot (to a chorus of the graunching bumpers of other cars traversing ditches and banks), I made my up to the registration tent on the hill.  The marquee type tent, and the colorfully attired runners scattered over the landscape put me in mind of a medieval tournament.



After joining the lengthy port-a-loo que, and listening to the briefing: "technical terrain, a couple of SHORT, but steep climbs, varying landscapes...help each other, be nice", the long course runners lined up and were off.  We barreled off along the road, and then started negotiating the ridges of some ocean-side paddocks before descending to the rugged shoreline itself.  I had decided to throw everything into this race, as it will be my last in the North, and I don't have anything major lined up in the next couple of weeks.  I hurtled down the steep banks, seeking my own trail around the already slippery main path.  I congratulated myself on my form, keeping my center of gravity low, and racing past other runners taking a more cautious approach to the down hill section.  Then literally two meters before the trail flattened out onto the beach, I fell.


This is not the first time that I have fallen while running, but it was the first time that I have fallen so publicly, and the first time I had fallen that it hurt so damn much!  I sort of skidded down the rocks on my hands and knees and then my side, and scrambled to my feet as fast as I could to keep running.  The woman behind me kindly checked I was ok.  I said I was fine "these things always feel worse than than they are".  In truth my hand felt like I had been using my palm to grind glass all morning, but there was no visible damage, so I told my self to harden up and move on.  My shin and knees were also aching to blue blazes, but if my hand was anything to go by, it was all pain and nothing to see.

The trail followed to rocky coast line, the ocean pounding away on one side, cliffs extending skyward on the other.  Everything was hurting a lot, and I was definitely feeling less heroic than I had before my tumble, but I was determined to make the most of this incredible place (you Wellingtonians are so blessed to have these sorts of magical running places right on your doorstep, no wonder you are all such trail running superheros, "coolest little (running) capital of the world" - damn straight!).  The pace ahead slowed to a crawl and then stopped as we lined up in single file to negotiate the 'rock-climbing' section of the trail.  I took the opportunity to shed a layer, as the day was warmer than I had expected.  I also took the opportunity to examine my still aching shin.  Much to my delight there was a nice gash on my leg, that was dramatically leaking blood all down into my shoe.  I looked closer, could I see a flash of white bone in there? I kind of hoped so, its nice to have battle wounds to show your dedication to the trail running cause.



The ocean-side portion of the run was spectacular, the waves had neatly piled a low wall of drift wood beside the trail, and as it heaved back and forth, I could hear the rocks being worn ever-smoother under the water.  Everything was coloured in spectacular shades of grey and green, and the indistinct fingers of the South Island could be seen in the distance.  The only thing that marred the beach portion of the run was a big black bag full of rubbish that had washed up on the shore, its sides split and its contents strewn along the beach.  I wondered: if every runner had been able to carry out one piece of rubbish, would we have been able to clean the mess up, and return the coastline to looking untouched...?



After rock-hopping, sand wading, and tide dodging for a couple of kilometers, the trail turned in land and into the first climb of the day.  The muddy track was wide, but already getting slippery under the feet of so many runners, and it kept getting steeper and steeper.  Eventually though, it flattened out at the top (after a couple of brilliantly deceiving I-look-flat-from-a-distance-but-am-really-the-start-of-the-next-hill sections).

The terrain changed again, winding and undulating through pine forest, before breaking out onto muddier ground for the next section of descent.  Not for the last time that day did I lament not being a faster runner, it must be brilliant to be at the front of the pack and speed over the ground before it has become a treacherous muddy ski-slope, where following the runners can slide from one tree to the next, or take tiny careful steps to try and prevent sprawling head long into the mud.  Reaching the bottom, I came across the most enormous piles of poo I have ever seen.  Coming from a dairy farm, I am well versed in the knowledge of cow poo, but this stuff must have come from dinosaurs!  If I had stepped in a pile it would have come up to my knees. What animal does poos this big?

I followed the valley for a while, before the trail veered right and the next climb began.  The trail a head was so steep and muddy that I found it unrunnable.  Again I yearned to be a front runner, just to have watched the supremely fit bound up a slope of this magnitude.  My poor shoes were covered in mud, and my progress became a case of taking one step forward and sliding two backwards.  I am always saying that I want to work on my walking-up-hill fitness, so now was the time to indulge.  The track got steeper (impossible I hear you say) - I saw one runner describe them of Facebook as "muddy cliffs", which actually in retrospect was more or less what they were.

Not really an exaggeration 
As I reached the top of the climb, two of the massive turbines reared into view, their great blades slicing through the air.  The turbines seemed to make this ominous clunking sound as they rotated, was this the sound of those gigantic blades preparing to drop on my head? (I love wind farm's, but being so close always thrills and terrifies me!)  Past the turbines and along some increasingly slippery sheep-tracks, the trail wound along the hillside, a tantalizingly smooth access road teasing me from the other side of the fence.  Then another mad descent down the steepest of grassy banks (I took it a bit slower this time) and along the very muddy valley floor, before commencing the final climb of the day.

I was quite resigned to my slow progress up these brutal slopes.  I think the steepness would have been more manageable had I not also been struggling against a waterfall of mud.  The weather was clearing though, and I took the opportunity to take in some of the incredible views as I gained height.  I hope everyone got a chance to enjoy the amazing vistas of coastline, rolling green hills, wind farm and South Island.  For me, the brilliance of the landscape was the huge reward of all that climbing.  Towards the top, the gradient became kinder, and I enjoyed being able to run up the last part of the hill before heading out onto one of those gloriously smooth and un-muddy turbine access roads.

The final kilometer or so back to the finish was lovely and easy, and crossing the line was hugely rewarding after such a challenging morning in the mud and on the hills.  I even found someone to wash the mud out of my leg wound (I was a little disappointed that I didn't need stitches)

Thanks once again to Xterra, another fab run, and to the Meridian Energy people that allowed us to slither about under their turbines.  I am gutted the series is over, and even more gutted that I won't be running in wonderful Wellington any time soon.  Maybe one day Xterra will come to the South Island, if they do, I will be the first to sign up for a race, you guys put on one hell of a trail running series!


Thursday, June 6, 2013

Muscles

So its study week for exams, and I have been diligently spending the majority of my time swotting.  I haven't been getting out to run as often as I would like, but I have been making the most of the Les Mills group classes at the gym, as well as the treadmill to keep on top of some exercise.

The result of these great-fun classes is that I have been hobbling around for the last few days, with sore everything (except for my quads, these seem to be strongish already).  Particularly the upperbody workout, has made my arms feel leaden and useless, but I figure that working on different muscles sets, and improving core strength will be a great way to improve general running form - I hope!

The first class I did was the aptly named Body Attack - a fast paced aerobics style class that was heaps of fun, and very popular, I had to be careful not to fling a limb or dancersize into anybody close by.  I really enjoyed this class and found it pretty easy to manage coordinating kicks, runs, arm flinging and dance steps.  After Body Attack, I headed straight into a CXWorx class which is all about core strength - and mostly involved torturing your abdominal and quad muscles.  Yesterday I did a Body Combat class.  This was challenging as I have never really done any martial arts type exercise before, and required a bit more coordination than I usually have to muster while running.  But I can definetly see why people enjoy martial arts, the moves were really powerful, and it was quite enjoyable to punch and kick for an hour, I must have had a tough day studying, because I apparently contained a lot of pent up agression.  After the class, I spent an hour on the treadmill, with the incline set to steep-and-sweaty, before finishing with some fast paced running.

I always feel like I am keeping up in gym class...the reality however is somewhat more disturbing

I suppose that this has been the least conventional week of training that I have had for a while, but it is nice to do something different while I have the opportunity, and also a good way to make use of these long dark evenings.

It is the final Xterra Wellington race this weekend, and I am really excited.  The course looks amazing, and it feels like a long time since I have been out among some beautiful scenery.  I hope that the weather is stunning - fingers crossed.  This will also be my last race in the North Island for a while, so I hope that it is brillant.

Bring on the Weekend!

Some of the weekend running awesomeness to look forward to - photo Xterra



Saturday, June 1, 2013

Run Direction

Setting goals is quite important if you want to achieve things in life...and running is no exception, if fact for me, having big (often scary, and sometimes seemingly unachievable goals) is a really important part of my running experience.  If I have something huge to work towards, then I can break the challenge into training chunks, practice particular skills, work on my endurance and fantasize about running and achieving my goal.

The problem for me at the moment, is that I don't have a solid goal set in concrete.  I was supposed to be running the Wellington Marathon in a few weeks time, but circumstances have prevented that from eventuating, and now I am in running limbo, as I haven't set myself the next challenge.  I am thinking of running the Great Naesby Water Race (50km) which is in August.  Part of me thinks that running an ultra before I have run a full marathon is a bit like trying to run before I can walk, and the rest of me thinks that this is just the sort of challenge that I need.



While I mull over that little conundrum, I am still ticking away with my training.  I did a 32km long run today, and have been doing shorter 9km runs in the evenings.  Inclement weather, and a temporary change in location mean that I have elected to run on the treadmill rather than on busy streets in the dark.  Running on a treadmill is never top of my priority list, its is boring and hard to remain motivated, and I saw a quote the other day that summed it up perfectly: "whoever thinks a minute is a short amount of time, has never been on a treadmill".   I have been running on the treadmill in hour-long stints, which I think is nearly deserving of a prize.  However, even on a treadmill, any running is better than no running at all.

Hopefully as exams will soon be over, I can make some new and exciting running plans, and in the mean time I am reading an inspirational and hilarious account of the Coast to Coast race by Kelly Barker.  It is beautifully written, and had cemented my desire to one day complete this race (although I will have to learn to Kayak and ride a bike without killing myself first!).  I have also signed up to volunteer for the 2014 Godzone Adventure Race, and I can't wait to be a part of such an incredible event, and gain some knowledge and appreciation of the hard work that goes on behind the scenes at an internationally renowned kiwi event.