Slowly my injury improved, and I was able to run 5, 10, and then 2 weeks out from the race a slow 20km trail, gravel and sealed road without too much pain at all. It wasn't very intense training, I was too scared I would re-injure myself, but it was something. So the day before the race we headed up from Palmerston North towards Rotorua. It wasn't going to be fast, and it wasn't going to be pretty at all, but I was going to try and run the 60km course, and get to my favourite trails along the shores of Lakes Okataina and Tarawera, and past the majestic Tarawera Falls. But effectively loosing the last 8-10 weeks of training, when I had been planning to really ramp up the distance and get myself some proper endurance training, was really going to hurt.
But there of course was another spanner to be thrown in the works. All week prior to the race all the news bulletins had been leading with Tropical Cyclone Lusi, which had been tracking south from Vanuatu, and Was due to hit northern New Zealand with high winds and torrential rain on Saturday. All week the race organisers in conjunction with search and rescue services had held their nerve. But at seven o'clock on race eve the news everyone had been dreading was confirmed: the 100km and 85 km races would be reduced to 65km, with a turn around point at the Lake Okataina aid station. The 60km race wild also turn around here, being reduced to 55km, later increased to 59km with an added 4km out and back. But this would mean we would have to come back over the Western Okataina Walkway again, backwards. With a steep 400m climb at roughly kilometre 45. In short, the return route that had defeated me last year.
The 60km race, at least psychologically for me, had been made harder in response to a tropical cyclone.
So the day started for me at 430 am, when I heard my motel neighbour's alarm go off. Check my phone, turn over, back to 'sleep', hear my wife's alarm go off half an hour later. Try and get a bit more sleep, but give up and get up, ten minutes before my alarm finally goes off. A cup of coffee, a play with Mr 15month old Luke, an attempt for some breakfast hastily abandoned when it threatened to come straight back up, and we're off to the start. This year for the first time, I actually knew other people in the race. An old uni friend, Aubrey was competing in the race for the first time, like me initially entering 100km, but on the day opting for 60 under duress of a virus. And James, a few years behind me at uni, was aiming to finish 100km for the first time after a few speedy 60 and 70km races, and was bitterly disappointed to find the shortened race would rob him of this chance. I saw neither of them at the start, but wolfed down an espresso flavoured gel, and before I knew it was off slowly, steadily, following a stream of headlights into the forest. After about 1km, we reached the bottleneck at the start of the sinkage track. I would love to run this section in daylight at some point, as it seems it would be beautiful bush, narrow track, especially fun coming downhill, but instead I joined the conga line for the first kilometre of beautiful bush track. Emerging from the track we came to my favourite part of the first section, above the tree line looking down at the waking city of Rotorua as the lights slowly switch off. Through some mature pines and more native bush, and we came out at the first spectator point, the water tower, still feeling fresh, with no pain in the hip. Just past the tank, the choice of continuing on the 'short' course of 59km to the left, or opting for a longer day at 69 km to the right was offered. Not wanting to risk my back/buttock, whatever, I kept left and continued, through Whakawerawera forest park, around the beautiful blue lake, through ponga ferns, and up a short climb to aid station number one, with its breakfast theme. A quick change of a headlamp for a running cap followed (essential for keeping the promised torrents of rain off my glasses), and I was off down the steps, past the skeletons, past the professional photographers hired to record or pain and suffering, and off to aid station number two.
Past the Okareka road turnoff, where crowds gather between the aid stations, is my second favourite part of the run, a short recently created track section which passes through an impressive stand of natives. I was expecting to be caught at this point by the leaders of the long course, but i impressed myself by holding out for another kilometre, until just before the Okareka Aid station, doubling for the second year in a row as the finish. Unfortunately I just missed out on the chance for a photo of me leading Sage, Vajin et al into the station, but as it turned out Rachel had her hands too full of toddler to have the camera ready to go. Probably this is a very god time to thank Rachel for doing such an amazing job combining the roles of support crew, Mum to a snotty nosed, tempermental ball of 15 month old energy, and keep a smile on her face for the several hours I was out on the course.
Out of Okareka, and it was off up Miller Road, past the Bedrock Cafe aid station, and on to the afore mentioned Western Okataina track. Rumours that I hate this track with a vengeance are probably overstated. It's actually quite beautiful, and it turns out in the rain, the beauty came out even more. It starts with a gentle climb up to a summit, from where the path undulates through several clay based stream valleys, through native bush, alongside a short section of farmland, and up to the race high point at about 750m. This year, due to the worsening weather, at 4 or 5 spots along the track search and rescue had set themselves up in little bivouacs, in their fluorescent yellow waterproofs, rowdy to provide assistance when it was needed. I kept along at what I thought was a reasonable pace, walking most of the uphill sand jogging the downhills, until reaching the steep drop down to lake Okataina and the Okataina aid station. All the way along this section, I was expecting to see the leaders in the race charging back towards me, and finally, just before I started to drop down the steep steep hill, Sage Cannaday, defending champion and eventual winne, came running surprisingly easily back past me. Needless to say, I was aprehensive at having to come back up the hill I had been having nightmares about for the previous year, and this wasn't at all helped by seeing the likes of Vajijn Armstrong and Michael Aish slogging their ways back last me.
Into Okataina, and a change of socks, a few cups of Mountain Dew, and I was informed of an additional 2km out and back along the Easten Okataina walkway that I had heard rumours ab filtering through on the way down the hill. This was a narrow track, and the volume of runners going both ways made it very hard to get any sort of rhythm going, in fact in places I almost fell off the track! 33min for 4km isn't a split I'd normally be very happy with, but in the circumstances, it represented another 4km I was closer to home.
I didn't spend long at Okataina aid station the second time, just enough to change my shirt and fill my water bladder. I felt it important to get out of there, get Rachel out of there, and have no option to drop out of huge race with the big climb in front of me. And bleeding oath it was hard. I think it probably took abut an hour to go the next 3.8km back to the high point of the course, but after that I knew there were only a few short, not too steep up hills, and several jog able downhills. By this point it was raining constantly and quite heavily, and the track was getting muddy and slippery. My right calf had been cramping up all the way up the hill, despite putting on compression socks in a vain attempt to avoid this. But I actually quite enjoyed slogging through the last 15km or so. It was slow (7km/hour), but despite the constant rain, I put my head down and kept it going. All that mattered at this point was to get through. I struck up a few conversations with other runners, most of whom we're overtaking me at a slow but slightly faster than me pace, and a very select few of whom I overtook. Finally I broke out of the woods at the Millar Road/Bedrock Cafe aid station, and the last 2.7km down the road and turning into the finish chute, I could see that I would actually finish, despite my atrocious buildup. Paul Charteris was waiting at the finish line in full waterproofs, but the smile from his face as he shook every finisher's hand was enough to brighten up the shittiest of weather. My legs were close to collapse, and it was disappointing to have been robbed by the weather of running along lake Tarawera's shore, but I had really enjoyed almost every step of the run this year.
Next year though, it will be good to finally be able to return to Kawerau. After two years away, the town still remains fully supportive of there race, and many of those who were meant to be manning aid stations through the tarawera forest actually came around to help at the finish. Baring another weathe disaste, it's going to be a very emotional year next year at Tarawera.
And what will I do next year differently? Firstly, not get injured ten weeks out. But also I need to start with longer runs further out, so that even if I do end up having to take a few weeks off, hopefully, I will still have the base to go 60, 70, 100km. I think compared to last year I got my fluids and fuelling a lot better managed, actually drinking between Blue Lake and Okataina probably helped. But most of all, I need to go out without any expectations and just have fun again next year, I think that was the biggest thing that got me through the 60km on minimal preparation on Saturday.
