Cadbury Dunedin Marathon

Considering that I had comfortably managed a 50km ultra marathon the previous weekend, I was surprisingly nervous in the hours leading up to my first marathon.  My knee had been a bit twingy all week, and I had been debating running the full distance, or instead running the half, but I knew that if I didn’t at least give the 42km a shot, I would regret it.

The day of the race was bright and clear, and the drive down the peninsula next to the glassy harbour was picturesque.  The scenery, sunlight and the promise of excellent running conditions did little to quell the queasy nervous jig dancing its way through my digestive system.

The starting field of fit and lithe athletes milled about at the start, contorting themselves through various stretches and warm up routines.   My usual lack of pre-race organisation meant that I spent my pre-race time juggling gels, ipod, race number and camelback, desperately trying to get myself ready before the gun went off.

I opted for a singlet only to start in as the day was so warm, and was grateful later in the race, as the sun beat down.  I positioned myself close to the back of the pack, and we started out.  I found myself falling into step next to another runner, and we started conversing.  Topics ranged from previous race experience, to whether or not the conventions of modern medicine could be trusted.  Before I knew it my companion was espousing the benefits of “clean-living” tribes people, whose best and most life-giving practices (in the runners opinion) included frequent carnal interludes with young women.  This revelation was met with sly sideways glances in my direction.

This was a little awkward, but I laughed in what I hoped was a non-committal, and “let’s change the subject” kind of way.  Further on, the conversation steered again in the direction of the lascivious, my companion (who I here must mention was far richer in years than I), alluded again to the tribes people he so worshipped, describing in detail anatomy elevation of the aged - “I would love to still be able to get it up in my 90s”.

Shit.  I didn’t want to run my whole first marathon focusing on anything like this.  I wanted to run my own race, tune into my music, focus on pacing myself.  But the runner beside me, doggedly kept pace with me, and I in my naivety, didn’t want to be rude.

The final straw came, when the runner commented that I may end up pulling ahead, as they intended just to plod through the race.  Unthinkingly, and as this was my first marathon, I replied “you never know, you may end up out stripping me yet”.  Quick as a whip, the runner, in a lecherous tone of voice: “oooooh, wouldn’t that be nice, I would enjoy that”.

Enough was enough; I took the opportunity of the up-coming hill, to put some distance behind me.  I tore off.  The uphill run was good, and I was soon comfortably ahead.  But  for me that wasn’t enough.  I couldn’t risk being caught up later on when my tired mind might cope less reasonably with such propositions, and for the next hour I pelted along, passing runner after runner. 

I wish that I could have kept up such a pace, but at about the half way point I was starting to flag a bit, and as the course neared the harbour basin, a strong head wind built up, further sapping my energy.  I don’t know how much running the ultra the previous weekend affected my running during the marathon, but I guess it did a bit.  My joints were sore, and generally I was getting quite tired.

The course for the Dunedin Marathon is stunning, following my beloved harbour from the heads on the Peninsula around to Port Chalmers.  The sun shone down, and the water stretched away on my right.  The city, impossibly far away at the start, comes quickly into view, and then the course winds through the docks before joining the fantastic new harbour walk way for the last 9km to Port.

As the marathon course joined with the half marathon, I became surrounded by costumed walkers.  By this point I was really starting to hurt, so I spent the next 6km with the argument raging back and forth in my head about whether or not I should keep going – it certainly helped to pass the time.

It was hot on the harbour side walkway.  I threaded my way slowly through the throngs of runners, and wondered how my little sister was going with her first ever half marathon.    It was really good having Mum and Dad darting in and out around the course to offer words of encouragement and cheer me on.

With around 3km to go, I knew that I was going to finish, and I boosted along.  The course joined the road again, and the bumper to bumper traffic flowing back from the finish line, provided supportive whoops and toots for those of us still toiling away.  I sprung up the final hill at Roseneath (I love hills!), and pounded my way to the finish line.

I really appreciated how supportive spectators and other competitors were towards the marathoners.  Walkers were considerate, giving my right of way, and heaps of people offered words of encouragement and applause as I rounded the final corner to the finishing shoot.

Crossing the finish line was sweet, and I was thrilled to have made it in just under five hours – 4hrs 51min.  Running hard out of avoidance seemed to have really paid off! Another marathoner, that I had yoyo’d with during the run, but who had pulled ahead later in the race, came to congratulate me, which was really nice.  I also enjoyed catching up with some runners that I had known while I was growing up in Dunedin. 

My first official marathon was a really enjoyable challenge.  The overall achievement was a little overshadowed by the triumph of the previous weekend, and I definitely found pounding the pavement for so long punishing.  It was a privilege to share the event with my sister and friend Kristy, who both performed spectacularly in the half marathon.

For the next wee while I would like to focus more on mountain and trail running, especially for races, as I find the off road so very rewarding, and so much easier on my body.                                   

The Great Naseby Water Race

What an incredible event.  The Great Naseby Water Race is, hands down, the best, most enjoyable and friendliest race that I have run. 

I started out later than I had originally intended for Naseby after double and triple checking that I had everything I needed.  I was excited about heading ‘home’ to race in Otago, and looking forward to being reunited with the mountains and high country that I was lucky enough to grow up amongst. 

Sunset on the Kakanui Ranges

The sun was dipping low by the time I turned inland, and I was treated to an array of golden tussocked peaks, and peach coloured snow as the sun set.  Reaching Naseby, I was a bit worried to find that there had been a muck up with the reservation for my accommodation, and I was turned away from the place I had booked.  I headed to the camp ground, also fully booked, and was resigning myself to having to sleep in the car (freezing, and not ideal before my first ultra marathon). 

Thankfully the wonderful campground owner promptly telephoned other hotels in Naseby, and the wonderful people at the Royal Hotel were able to make room for me at the last minute.  I was thrilled.  The Royal Hotel is a delightful little historic pub and hotel dating back to 1865.  My room was super cosy, and I was in heaven when I discovered the electric blanket!

Royal Hotel, Naseby

After the prefect pre-race dinner of pasta (tomato, spinach and olive sauce – yum), I headed to the Naseby town hall to register for the race.  I was greeted by race coordinator Jamie, who amazingly, recognised me from Facebook, and warmly welcomed me to the event.  He reassured me that I would be able to cope with the distance despite not having raced an ultra or a marathon before, and told me about an incredible “hard as nails” lass who was racing the 100miler as her first ultra!  I got my number and was encouraged to visit the race at night, as the 100mile runners had already been underway for nearly eight hours.

I drove to the race venue, and stepped out into the freezing night, a million bright stars above and the glow of the start line/transition area in the distance.  At first I regretted not having my head torch, but wandering through the inky night felt magical.  I could hear frogs calling in the water ways, snatches of competitor conversation carrying through the crisp air, and the twinkling of head torches bobbing away in the distance.

The transition area was lined with tents, and filled with toastily wrapped-up support crew; many a down jacket and sleeping bag donned against the icy air.  Competitors passed through the glow, feet and blisters were tended to, steaming soup shared around, and fistfuls of lollies devoured, before the head lamps dwindled again into the distance.  Everyone was in high spirits, and the transition area had a festival atmosphere.  I headed back into the night, and enjoyed a cosy night and fantastic sleep. 

Race day dawned with a frost so thick, that my car doors wouldn’t open.   The sun was already bright and warm, and the conditions promised to be perfect for a day on the trails.  Down at race HQ expectant runners milled about waiting for the briefing and 9am start, while on the course itself, 80km, 100km and 100mile competitors charged determinedly past.  Everyone seemed to know each other: veteran competitors joked about previous events, support crews traded storied about braving the freezing night, and everyone was quick with a welcoming smile.

Perfect day for a trail run

After the briefing, we all lined up ready to head out.  There were several elite and accomplished runners that I recognised from national fame and previous events.  I think that one of the neat things about our sport, is that amateurs get to compete (or at least participate) in the same events at the elite, we get to run alongside (and be lapped by) our heroes and heroines.  It’s kind of like learning the violin by playing with the NZSO.

As we started out, the supremely fit dashed out into the distance, and I plodded away at the back of the pack, anxious not to head out too fast.  The course followed a wide gravel road over some gentle forest bordered hills.  The sun was still low, so I was running in the long cold shadow of the trees, the ground underfoot as hard as iron.  The road way curved around a lake before turning into single trail, skirting a second glassy lake, polished blue with the reflection of the sky.  Everything was dusted with a powdery frost, the air still, crisp and cool, perfect for running.  After a bit of a plunge up hill, the trail met up with the historic water race that gold miners had constructed over 150 years ago to carry water to Naseby.

A sharp descent and climb led the trail briefly away from the water race, before rejoining the gently winding water course.  The elevated track allowed fantastic views back over the Maniototo to the golden mountains in the distance.  After following the water race for a while, the course dipped back down hill through the race transition/HQ area, before rising again to meet the water race.  After following the water race, the trail turned inland and up a very steep little rise, before winding through forest with slightly more technical terrain underfoot.  After negotiating tree roots (and later in the day, mud), the course broke out into bright sunlight, and followed forestry roads rising over gentle hills.  At the top of the climb, bright clay cliffs framed snowy mountains, before the trail descended all the way back to the transition area and eventual finish line.

Clay Cliffs

The figure-8 course, measuring about 10km, was run the number of times required to make up the total distance (I ran it 5 times), and passed through the transition area twice per lap, allowing plenty of assistance and replenishment for those that needed it.

As my race progressed, the frost turned to mud.  I marvelled at the super long distance runners, wondering how the course would have been to negotiate in the pitch black of night.  I also thought about the hardy miners who had constructed the water race, taming the difficult wilderness in the hope of making their fortunes, braving the harsh conditions in quite a different and rather awe inspiring feat of endurance.

Inspirational quotes had been affixed to trees at various points around the course, making me smile.  In fact, I was loving the race so much, that I grinned like a bit of a twit the whole way around.  I ended up running the first two laps faster than I had planned, well under 7min/km the whole way, but the trail was perfect, so I couldn’t help myself.  The day heated up quite fast, and by the time I was into my third lap, I had shed my excess layers, and was starting to feel that I was being slowly poached in a marinade of sweat and merino.  By half way through lap four, I was starting to hurt: feet, knees and ankles taking a pounding.

Running past the clay cliffs - by lap four I was starting to feel it.

Each time I passed through the transition area I received heaps of support and encouragement from the crew.  It is really nice to hear that you are still “looking good” form-wise after 30 or 40km.  As I passed through to embark on my final lap, Jamie called out that I was doing well “it’s a doddle”.  My lower limbs didn’t really agree.  But overall my first ultra was going really well. 

Running through the festival-like race transition/HQ area - 5km left!

I kept my fuel up through every lap with gels and Mule Bars (which are so easy to eat and don’t upset my stomach).  I think that my fuelling during this race was really good and helped to keep me moving along at a reasonable pace. 

Emotions were running high during my final lap, I felt such an amazing sense of achievement, and success, knowing that for me, what I was about to achieve was really quite spectacular. As I the finish line came into view for the final time, I shed a tear or two of happiness, but by the time I reached the finish line my grin had returned.  I had done it.  I had managed to run 50km. And I still felt pretty good. And I finished in 6^th place. Bloody Hell – not a bad way to top off my first year of running.

50km later: still running, still smiling

I really enjoyed the family oriented, laid back, and supportive atmosphere of this event.  It was heart warming and uplifting to see kids running final laps with their parents.  Family and friends walking with exhausted and grey faced 100milers.  Equally fatigued and injured runners, silently keeping vigil in pairs as they headed intrepidly towards the finish.  As fitter competitors passed me, they seemed to unfailingly offer words of encouragement, or check to see if I was ok.  No other event I have been to has come close to achieving the same fantastic atmosphere.

For me the number of runners on the trail was also a bonus.  There were enough people to feel that I was participating in an event, but everyone was well enough spread out, that I could run for long stretches on my own through the forest – something that I relished.

I would absolutely recommend this event to anyone considering an ultra.  It is very well organised, and a lot of fun.  I will absolutely be back next year (maybe even for the 100miler!? -That seems like about the right amount of scary), and probably every year forever.  An enormous thank you to the race organisers and competitors who made this race. And thank you to my family for supporting me and cheering me (crazily) along.  The Great Naseby Water Race is truly great.

Dancing On Mountain Tops

With all of my running on the flat, I have been yearning to run in the mountains.  The peaks have been calling me, tantalisingly close.  So on Friday, I heeded their call, and made my second attempt to run up Little Mount Peel. 

I woke up earlier than normal, and headed west.  I tentatively began my climb, the first section up a steep little section of road.  My poor legs started to burn after the first few meters, and I quailed, thinking that I had lost all of my uphill fitness.  Breaking on to the trail, and along a gentle undulating section, my legs began to warm up, and the leg-screaming subsided.

Then the climbing began in earnest.

The last time I embarked on the Mt Peel climb, I quickly reached deep snow, and so although the views and I rose were familiar, I was seeing the trail for the first time.  Areas of snow obscured trail that I slithered and fallen on, were revealed to comprise of knee and waist height steps, no wonder I struggled the first time!

The weather was calm and warm, the sun injecting warm fingers of heat into the crisp alpine air.  I quickly passed the point that I had reached on my last expedition.  The views were just stunning – the vast plains stretching out to the ocean, ever further below.

The higher I progressed up the ridge, the more technical the terrain became, with steep sections interspersed with flat and gloriously muddy bits.  I was feeling pretty chuffed with myself for managing to run so much of this very-up-hill trail (well I was running up a mountain!), and the bits I couldn't run I was scrambling on my hands-near to rock climbing through the tussock, and up lichen crusted rock.

About two thirds of the way to the summit, I still had a really steep section of ridge to ascend, but as I climbed, my progress felt more manageable than I had imagined.  Some tenacious soul(s) had carefully laid hundreds of meters of board walk to protect the delicate alpine eco system from the tread of exploring feet.  I marveled at the enormity and logistics of such an enterprise – and felt simultaneously proud of and sad for our beloved Department of Conservation, the under-appreciated and politically sidelined guardian of our most precious native assets.

Excited to be so close to the top - the shelter and trig station in the background

Cresting the last major climb before the summit, I was almost overcome by the beauty of my surroundings (I think that my senses and emotions are heightened exertion), and felt so pleased to have nearly achieved my goal.  I could see the Tristram Harper Shelter in the distance, and the trig station and the peak.  Behind me the mountain dropped sharply away.  In front, Middle and Big Mount Peel blended into the ranks of snow capped peaks marching forward from the Southern Alps.  All around me, in the rustic golds and greens of the quintessential New Zealand alpine environment, Little Mount Peel was beautiful and splendid.  Now I was running through the brilliant blue sky.

Middle Mt Peel and Big Mt Peel

I pushed forward with renewed vigour, my spirits soaring high, buoyed on by being so close to the top.  The track the led to the shelter dropped away extremely steeply, and sidled along, dodging treacherous patches of snow that would send the callously-footed climber over the edge.  Behind the hut, the last few meters of track wound up to the very peak itself.

Trig Station on the peak of Little Mt Peel

And then there I was, standing on the top of the world.  The view was amazing, but the tranquillity and sense of achievement was breathtaking.   I literally danced on the top of the mountain top with joy.

After drinking in the view, I sat on the shelter steps drenched in sunlight, and gobbled up a couple of muesli bars – chocolate and apricot never tastes as good as it does on a mountain top.  I stayed for ages, and didn’t want to leave (except that I was looking forward to more running).

View Glorious View

I explored the shelter interior, which was delightful, before plunging back down the mountain.  The run back down was so much fun (and a little hair rising in sections).  I relish knowing that even a few months ago I would have struggled much more with the terrain than I did.  I flew back down the board walks, and took great bounding leaps down the steps.  I splashed though the mud, and am not ashamed to admit that I even turned around and ran back through some of the muddiest sections, just for the joy of splashing through the thick of it.

Tristram Harper Shelter

The sun had really warmed up the day, and I was boiling as I ran back down, grateful for the shade as I reached the bush line.  It seems that the core strengthening exercises I have been doing are also helping with my running form, and I felt strong and stable as I descended.

Its always a good day on the trails when you are covered in mud 

This amazing and beautiful run has to be one of the best that I have ever had – confirming that running in the mountains is definitely my favourite.  I can’t wait to practice this route more in the future, and improve my speed and footwork over steep and technical terrain.  I also can’t wait to discover more beautiful peaks.

Less than a week to go until my next race, the much anticipated 50km, it is going to be great (although I do hear mutterings about snow).  EEEEK! 

Is it crazy...

That I will run my first official ultra marathon before I run my first official marathon?  Well anyway, that I my plan.  I have entered the Great Naseby Water Race and the Cadbury Dunedin Marathon.  The Great Naseby Water Race is a ultra-marathon fest with distances from 50km right up to 160km (or 100 miles).  I am excited and nervous about completing this distance.  But I have run 50km before, so I know that I can cover the distance, and I was thinking today, that it doesn't matter how I finish, as long as I finish.

The Dunedin Marathon is a little more nerve wracking.  There is a time limit on the distance, and although I have been doing quite a bit of speed work, and tempo training over distance, I know that at the end of the day I am not fast (but built to last).  However, nerves over completing the course in the designated time are somewhat cajoled by my excitement of getting to run around the beautiful Dunedin harbor, on what promises to be a rather spectacular course.

I haven't blogged much of late because all of my running has been on flat, open country roads, and I can't find it within myself to wax lyrical about gravel roads, paddocks and irrigators too often.  But the important thing is that I have been doing a lot of running, and covering a lot of kilometers (to the extent where I think I just about need a new pair of shoes).  A short run for me at the moment is 15km, and there are many and varied routes around my house that make up quite even distances (21km, 30km, 42km etc.).  I run mostly on the grass verges where I can, as the softer surface is kinder on my joints, but I also like running in the thick gravel, as this fulfills some aspect of my trail running desires.

Today through, for the first time in ages, it had rained a lot over night, and the grass verges were ankle deep in mud.  The route that I chose today, took me past some earth works, so I relished running up and down the piles of mud and stone as I slithered through the mud.  Large puddles, and well trodden drive ways contributed to the muddiest run that I have had in a while, and it was great fun.

In other news, Malcolm Law has launched is latest charity running event: The High Five-0 Challenge - which a 50 day, 50 marathon event, run over 50 different peaks around NZ to raise money (at least $250,000) for the Mental Health Foundation of New Zealand.  For those unfamiliar with Malcolm Law's running feats, he has completed numerous fundraising endurance events for New Zealand charaties, and he is one of New Zealands best known and accomplished ultra runners.  I am excited about hopefully being involved in this event as it is rolled out over the next months...watch this space.

Finally, I have been reading Dean Karnazas's 50 Marathons in 50 days.  It is an interesting read, notably because he seems to find the logistical aspects of the event more challenging than the running itself.  I particularly liked his musings about the suitability of ultra running for introverts (like me!) who enjoy their own company and appreciate the long hours of running with just their mind and the wilderness for company.  I can definetly relate to that sentiment.

Ultra

On the same that that Ruby Muir came third at the Speedgoat 50k, I decided that it was high time that I had a good crack at my own 50km challenge. I am planning to run my first official ultra marathon at the end of this month, and I always find a distance easier  ( less daunting ) the more I do it. I was also curious to see if I could actually run fifty kilometers.  It's funny to think that just under a year ago the idea of completing a half marathon seemed impossible.

Go KIWI! Ruby Muir running into 3rd place at Speedgoat 50k.

I knew that  the distance was only eight or ten extra kms on top of my longest distance run, and I figured that I just had to get out there and start running and just keep going until I completed the distance.  I worked out a route that would take in some familiar running territory as well as some new terrain.  With a full Camelbak, some food, and my trusty, newly discovered Dextrose tablets, I set out.  I kept my pace purposefully slow (somewhere around the 7:30min/km), and plodded along quite comfortably for the first 10.  My strategy, was to run as much as possible on the grass verge to provide a softer running surface, and less impact for my joints.  I also kept the magnitude of my task right at the back of my mind, and tried not to calculate distance covered, or distance still to go.

My knee and consequently hip started to get twingy around kilometer 18, and I tried to ignore this for a while, but decided to get out my kinestesiology tape, and wound it around my knee, in a fashion that I hoped was close to the sort of technique that I have seen other athletes use.  The relief was instant, and the remainder of my run, my knee was pretty comfortable.  At km 20 I stopped to buy some Powerade and some Coke (to flatten) (which I have heard is magical go-go juice for endurance sports).  I periodically shook the Coke and opened the lid to release the gas, sticky syrup pouring over my fingers and clothes.

The day warmed up as I headed towards Lake Hood, the cloud cover dispersing, and the sun beginning to beat down.  I knew that I just had to cover another 5km before I could turn around and head for home.  I think that I found this part of the run the hardest, I still had the longest distance to run looming ahead of me, and I was hungry and tired.  I sat down for a few minutes at the turn around to further secure the strapping tape on my knee (sweat and movement were making it loose it's stick).

Back in town, I bought an enormous bag of lollies, and with only 20km to go, I felt that I didn't really have much running left.  As the sun shone down, my new self motivational strategy was to stuff my face with lollies whenever I felt like slowing to a walk, eating boosted my sugar levels and distracted me from feeling tired.  I just kept on keeping on: left - right - repeat, and somewhere around km 35 it got easier, all discomfort (sore soles, rubbed toes, achy legs) seemed to evaporate.  I wasn't running very fast but I was travelling along quite comfortably.

As I ran through the 40km mark,  I felt elated, every step I took now, I was running further that I had ever run before, plus I only had 10km to go, hardly any distance at all compared to what I had already run.

The sun was starting to set as I headed up the home straight.  I had been running for over 7 hours, but by god, I was going to make it, I was going to have run 50km!  I pulled out my by now, very flat Coke, and swigged away as I covered the last few km.  I don't know if the Coke had the desired go-go juice effect, but the caffeine hit was welcome.  As I reached the house, my GPS watch read 49.90km, so I did a couple of loops around the house (victory laps!) to boost the mileage to the desired distance.

I had done it.  I ran 50km.  It seems a bit surreal, and weirdly I found it easier than running 40km.  I had my own little 50km victory, and I know that I wasn't 'killing it' over the mountains, but I was only about an hour behind Ruby's time...not too shabby for a first crack at the distance!

My joints have been feeling a bit "used" since I ran, so I have been taking it reasonably easy and not doing too much.  I have been walking a lot, and have done a couple of short, slow runs.  The worst after effect for me was a bit of rotten chafing!  I should have listened to Vaseline preachers, and may have to investigate some good anti-chafing "runderwear".

Now that I have done my first 50, I feel more confident for the race at the end of the month.  Bring it on....and maybe some new running shoes too!

Dunedin

I have just returned from a glorious and fun-filled week my family in my fabulous home town of Dunedin.  Now I am enduring the jealousy-withdrawal of returning to the pancake flat plains, and feeling envious of all the lucky people who have a hilly playground like Otago to run in.

Mt Cargill

My first run of the week, in the crisp and frosty early morning (the temperature reading at the storage facility in North Easy Valley was claiming -5 degrees Celsius). I started off running down hill, the lights of the city twinkling below, forming a sparkly barrier between the inky harbor and inkier ocean.  At the gardens, I headed up North East Valley against the tide of students and on-foot commuters heading into town (fond student memories).  At the top of the valley, I left the road, and broke onto the trails of Bethunes Gully.  The grassy playground narrowed into bush clad tracks as I began to climb.  I have walked this route many times in the past, but it has been a while since my last ascent, and I don't recall ever running the trail, so I only had a sketchy recollection of what to expect.

Looking back over the harbour, Port Chalmers and Taiaroa Head

For the most part the trail was smooth and wide, climbing all the time, and shrouded so densely in bush that for most of the run, I had no perception of height gained, or progress towards the top.   About half way to the top, a lookout revealed the harbour snaking away over my right shoulder, the peninsular and Harbour Cone.  Ahead, despite all the uphill work, I still had a fair bit of ground to cover (and climbing to do before I would reach the summit).  I was relieved that I was still able to run uphill, as I don't get as much practice over steep terrain at the moment.

As the track neared the top, the well groomed trail gave way to slippery clay, rocks and rivulets (containing icy, icy water), patches of snow appeared, and the ground was frozen very hard.  Just before reaching the transmitter at the peak, the trail edged around the opposite side of the mountain providing a glorious view north, the coastline fading into the distance, and the mountains marching inland from the sea.  Despite the chilly morning, there was no wind, and the high, dark cloud, and greeny-grey tones of the land and sea under the sky were moody and beautiful.

Mt Cargill Peak and Dunedin City

After pausing at the summit to pop on my hat and gloves, I headed off down the access road, which started out being icy and treacherous, but was soon just steep, and quad-burning torturous.  Most of the downhill running that I have experienced has been over soft trails, and are less jarring to run down, so running down the road required some alteration of technique (absorbing a lot of the impact through keeping my legs loose, and landing on my fore-foot.  The gradient became a little more forgiving, and the downhill stretch before home, left me feeling so refreshed that I was tempted to run the loop again.

Mt Flagstaff

For my second major run of the week I wanted to ascend Mt Flagstaff.  Dad, who is more familiar with the terrain, mapped out an excellent trail for me before I left.  I started a little later in the day that I had for my previous run, and headed down to the Woodhaugh.  I then followed the Leith up to the Ross Creek track, forcing myself to run as fast as I could up the steep dam front, trying (and probably failing) to avoid looking too foolish in front of the fit and muscled runners pelting past me in the opposite direction.  I attempted a "hello" between betroot-faced gasps for air, it probably sounded like the death rattle of a tuberuloid-pig.  I stopped trying to communicate with the supremely fit, and put the rest of my effort into cresting the hill.

Ross Creek Reservoir

From the reservoir, I took the Craigeburn trails past the ruins of pioneer cottages and through the bush to the start of the Pineapple Track.  Here, the climbing began in earnest.  The route heads, for the most part, pretty much straight up the side of Flaggy.  I kept up a reasonable pace the whole way, even over the steep sections.  The lower section of the run was through bush, which, upon breaking out above the snowline, provided beaut views of the city and surrounding countryside, as well as some fabulous tussocky running terrain.

Half way up

I skirted around the back of the summit, looking out over the Taieri Plains, but mostly fighting my way through the heaviest and stickiest mud that I have ever run through.  The claggy clay mixture was rusty red, and nicely slickened the soles of my shoes, nullifying any effect the tread might have had for maintaining traction.  The muck then climbed over the tops of my shoes and up my legs, till I had mud slathered all the way to my knees.  The final and quite steep descent to the bull-ring was a little terrifying - mud skiing is harder work, and less fun that it looks.

After my mud-party, I followed the nicely graveled walking track to the summit, relieved as the weight of the mud began to drop away.  The wind at the peak was chilly, but the view was amazing.  I sampled some of my newly discovered dextrose energy fuel (tasty and easy to eat, but don't chew while breathing heavily, or you sort of choke on the dust).  The run over the next section of trail was truly brilliant, the golden tussocks framing the undulating and twisting trail, mountain peaks all around, the city below, I almost felt as though I was running through the sky.  This trail is so much fun to run!

View from the summit

The track looped back to the trail on which I had ascended, and I began my descent, appreciative of the soft trail underfoot as I plunged downward.  I felt the familiar thrill and pride of marveling at the steepness of the track up which I had managed to run, and quickly made it to the bottom of the hill, before finishing my run with a final ascent towards home.  The last climb was less steep than the jaunt up Flaggy, so even though my legs were tired, my progress felt easy.

I found the Flagstaff run the most challenging, most runnable and most enjoyable run that I have done for a long time!  And there are so many other exciting places, mountains and trails to explore around Dunedin, I can't wait to get amongst it.

Winter Warm Up

I was nervous and excited for the Winter Warm Up, it has been my first race for a while, and my first race since moving to the South Island.  I have been doing quite a lot of running, but was still feeling anxious about my ability to perform on the day (I must clarify, that this was not my ability to do well, but indeed, my ability to run, as I often fear loosing my fitness and coordination if I have more than a day's break).  The night before the run, I did something that I should never do when feeling nervous, and that was check the finish times from previous years...needless to say, my pre-race nerves notched up a couple of extra gears.

The wind and rain that had battered the region the night before the race, had mostly subsided by the time I arrived at the race location.  The farm hosting the race boasted views of lovely green rolling hills, and surrounding mountains, the sun was shining and the greasy road to the start line had only stymied the progress of a few cars (parked forlornly at the end of churning, muddy tyre tracks).

Despite the sun, the wind was building, and as the runners of the 20km course jiggled impatiently at the start line, it felt bloody cold too.  Purple and goose-bumped runners dashed off down the slope, and we headed out on the first lap.  My down-hill running speed is always improving, and I enjoyed tearing away, and loved the brief moment of elation at being vaguely in touch with the lead pack.

Turning off the gravel road and into the first paddock, I was hit with the full force of the wind.  Some runners were gingerly picking their way around the mud-filled gate way, but I splashed and slithered on through - the muddier the merrier!  Trotting over the crest of the first incline, the wind met me with even more ferociousness.  My eyes were streaming, my nose running, and I was gasping like a fish, trying to suck in oxygen against the windy onslaught - I felt as though my head was shedding a permanent sprinkler of fluids, droplets of tears and snot whipped away in the wind - I hoped no one was running too close behind me.

Next the course crossed some turnip paddocks before winding around the side of a hill.  The turnip paddocks were great fun, and added a technical element to the footwork.  After circumnavigating the hill side via the sheep tracks, the steepest climb of the race presented itself. Towards the top the incline increased to the point where I could only manage a walk, and fortunately my uphill walking fitness had decided to come to the party, so I was able to reach the top reasonably comfortably.

More down hill running followed, and I was able to charge off again, it was such a thrill to pass quite a few others (and they weren't even walking!).  I suppose that some sort of small improvement on my behalf is testament to the advantage of practicing.  I can remember wondering how faster runners could power off down hill so confidently - weren't they afraid of falling and breaking something?  After a bit of practice and technique tweaking, I have so much more confidence to go fast heading down.  For me, I use my quads to stabilize my movement, and keep my center of gravity low - I also focus on keeping my elbows out wide from my body to assist with balance.  The overall effect of this approach probably looks like someone attempting the chicken dance and lunges all at once, but it works for me, and I have long since given up trying to retain any aesthetic dignity while I run.

After pelting through some more mud (is it wrong that sometimes I kick my heels up more than usual just to ensure a good coating over myself?), the course climbed gradually again, this time with the wind gusting at our backs - I think I was literally blown up the hill because I didn't feel as though I was having to put much effort in.  Then we rounded the last ridge-line (leaning precariously into the wind to stop ourselves being blown off the side) before another long descent back to the start area, and then off for a second loop.

The second loop, was if possible, even more blustery than the first, and was, as expected, in all other ways, quite similar to the first.  I did enjoy running past a mountain biker pedaling up one of the hill sections, and also putting in every last shred of effort to finish fast.  The thing that I really like about courses that follow multiple loops of the same trail, is that after the first lap, I know exactly what is coming, and how to pace myself.  If I am unfamiliar with the course, I think that I hold back a lot so that I don't wear myself out before the finish, but reach the end feeling that I didn't put in everything I had.  I wonder how more experienced runners pace themselves for best results?

The run was followed by a spectacular spit roast lunch, which was just the thing to round off a great morning of running, especially as the day was getting colder and colder.  I really enjoyed this run, it was great fun,  challenging and very rewarding.  I am looking forward to enjoying more spectacular South Island trail running fun.