In A Beautiful Place Out In The Country

A year ago a seed was planted with regards running Tarawera after a group of runners I know came back talking it up wildly (Ali Moxham, a chief protagonist). Talking to my good friend Caz, she noted 2018 was her 50th, and was planning on a few big events to celebrate the milestone. A plan was hatched.
The following is the Tarawera blog of our most excellent adventure. My thoughts in black, Caz's in red.

Wednesday - holiday to EnZed starts

Straight after work catch up with Chris Langmead for a few drinks. Chris had run Tarawera a few years previously, and some sage advice was given. The weather was hot in Melbourne, but the forecast was for cooler weather on arrival in Auckland. Grab some food then head to Southern Cross, bus to Tullamarine.
Going through border control was shitty. Australian Border Force personnel nothing better than trumped up mini Hitlers, you are all guilty until proven innocent. Forgot my laptop was still in the bag. The rigmarole to go through it etc… Anyway, all good in the end.
The flight left at 11:55. When on board had stupidly realised I'd ordered 2 meals, meant to be 1, and only on the return flight next Tuesday…. Still ate them. (Carbo load?)

Thursday - Land in Auckland and get to Rotorua

Flying through the night not too bad, just difficult finding a good sleeping position in the cramped cattle class in Jetstar. Around 5:20 spotted the first lights of New Zealand and a faint glow on the horizon.
Landed at Auckland Airport at 5:35am, not the ghost town many would expect.
First stop was to get a travel sim for my phone. Spark had looked the best service, but the staff at the counter looked at my phone and said I'd be better off with Vodafone. Went to Vodafone counter, and they had none of the $25 sims left. Bumped into Heidi and Justin Cutler, Brett Tilley and his wife, and Mark and Kathy Swinkels. Really cool to know I'm not the only crazy doing the overnight flight thingy.
4 international flights landed within 20 minutes, customs with their hands full. I had declared my trail shoes, more out of a sense of doing the right thing. Was horrified when I pulled them out to see how much dirt was stuck in the treads. Cheery quarantine officer was like, “No problem, I'll clean them, you go through x-ray and I'll have them for you there on the other side”. Great, except another quarantine person moved a group of us to another room and I'm thinking “Shit, they are my only trail shoes...” A minute or two later, my guy comes strolling through the throng holding up 2 plastic bags with my (now) clean shoes going, “Knew I'd hunt you down, enjoy your stay, sir”. The comparison with my Australian customs encounter could not have been any starker.
Now the wait for Caz and John. They were due in around 1:00, I just had to cool my heels until then. The first step, get that sim. Got it, but not before I stuffed up the pin code on my cash passport. Crikey.

Deb, Ali and Caz at the honour board.
(Photo credit: Caz Donovan.)

Waiting wasn’t too bad, adrenaline got me through the first 3 hours. Food and coffee, more food, more coffee until the inevitable fatigue induced crash happened. Woke up, head on the table hoping I hadn’t snored at all. Check flight boards, their flight still 1 ½ hours away, farkkkk….. Eventually, in the early afternoon their plane arrives, and so does Tony, Jacqui, Deb, and Jared. I am mightily relieved that we can now get on the road to Rotorua. Caz and John take turns driving, chatting as we went. Caz and I try to not just talk about running, and this race in particular, and thinking we get away with it (when we don’t). Into motel at 5:30, unpack, clean up and head out for dinner.
2 incidents after dinner, one funny, one not so. First one, Justin Cutler strolling around the dairy cabinet in the supermarket (called Countdown, as in the ABC music show of the 70’s and 80’s), slips on water pooling on the floor. And lands on an already knackered knee, further damaging it. I was there at the same time, different aisle, and unaware. A minute later, I'm in the same aisle and an announcement on the PA. “If Les Corson is in the supermarket, could he come to the front counter, his mum is waiting for him”! I guffawed very loudly, Caz Donovan's doing no doubt. Get to counter, staff and Caz and Ali Moxham all having a good ol laugh. Very funny guys, very funny.

Friday - Rego and weather watching day

Overslept the alarm, so missed the opening ceremony. Obviously needed the sleep after yesterday. So I headed down to the expo to have a look. The cloudy weather yesterday had now turned to showers, the occasional one quite heavy. Not a good omen. The expo was squeezed into a smallish room, and I circumnavigated several times, trying hard not to spend too much money.
Lunch in town with Caz and John, then back to the unit. The rain was getting more persistent and thoughts turned to how good the mandatory gear was.

All smiles and relaxed(?) at race rego. Great friends.
(Photo credit: Jamie Moxham)

Race brief at 4:00pm where race organiser Paul Charteris proclaimed that Tarawera was a 'very runnable course'. That caused a ripple of laughter through the audience, we shall see seemed to be the consensus.
Home cooked meal (my usual salmon, green vege, and a rice dish for a change). Gear prepped, set up watch to have trail running mode and 15 hour battery life, and then set alarm for 4:00am.

Saturday - Race Day, what we are here for

The alarm went off at 4, I'd had a good sleep but was woken up a few times with rain thundering down on the carpark outside. Shit… Breakfast of muesli, toast, coffee and a Berroca. I dressed in running gear, including thermal and rainjacket and headed out the door at 4:40 walking to Government Gardens to collect the bus to Firmin Field. The rain, currently drizzle, got heavier and heavier as I walked the dark streets of Rotorua. By the time I got to the buses, it was pissing down. I was already soaked. I jumped on the 2nd bus, messaged Caz to tell her I was heading up, only to see she'd already messaged me to tell me the same.

Caz and I in front of the honour board of entrants.
(Photo credit: Caz Donovan)

Now, New Zealand markets itself as the adventure capital of the world.  Travel brochures won't tell you it starts with the bus drivers! Race brief had warned us of the windy and treacherous roads to Firmin Field, drivers clearly thought they were immortal. Throwing the bus into corners, hitting a speed bump at 55 km/h, we were glad to be deposited to our destination in one piece. The lucky bastards were the 102k runners, they ran from there. The rest of us had to board another bus to go to our own start lines. Waiting around, sheltering from the rain was frustrating. But at least we got to see our 102k buddies head off on their run.
Into our bus, and another adrenaline ride to our start line. Our driver didn't know where he was going, managed to get the LHS wheels of the bus on the side of a single lane bridge which has a 2 metre drop into a creek. Matt, Jared, Caz and I joking that given the choice of bus or run back to the start, we'd run. We arrived late, all the buses driving into the road where we started, parking head-to-toe on a one-way road. We clamber out, only to find out that the first bus has parked over the start line (thankfully not over the timing mats!)

Shane Smedley and I at the start line.
(Photo credit: Shane Smedley)

The toilet queue is looonnnnggg. I'm ok, many others aren't. Always a bit tense at the start, but good to catch up with many runners that we knew, all of us just desperate to get underway.
Paul Charteris gave us a pre-race brief/chat, then a Maori Haka, welcome, and prayer. Was great watching this, really brought home that I was in another country racing for the first time.
Minute out from the race start. I'm not nervous, just anxious to start. Turn watch on, HR receiver found, GPS found. All was good, or so I thought at the time… Turned phone to airplane mode. In my pack next to my body as I run, it gets hot and chews through the battery. No or little coverage also means more battery usage. Mentally run through what I'm about to do, how I can help and support Caz.
IN MY PACK: 2 squeezy bottles of VFuel berry flavour, 1.5 litre of water in the bladder, 1 nut protein bar and 1 VFuel gel (maple bacon flavour). The aim was to use the aid station food, these supplies backup or emergency. Also carrying mandatory gear; wearing my VUR THIR and raincoat, carrying the long sleeve thermal top.
3, 2, 1 then we're off. A fast start and then a grinding halt as 20 rows of runners meet single track! First few k's at a snails pace, single file as we are limited in passing. Caz is just behind me, I keep checking for a bit as it is always chaotic at the start, easy to lose a friend. About 1.5k in we hit Tarawera Falls. We'd heard them well before we got there, the water thundering down from a great height. Many of us stopped for a photo and/or selfie. Then headed off again.

Very early on, note the nice shiny shoes!
(Official photo from http://photos4sale.nz)

The trail climbs significantly as we zig-zag around to climb to the height of the falls. Still plenty of runners around us, the trail is a bit up and down, short sharp rises, steep descents, a few tree roots, and rocks, but still firm underfoot. Eventually, after a couple of kilometres it flattens out and we can get some consistent running in. Caz and I not chatting too much here, just working our way into the race. But others around are having a good ol chinwag with friends, or anyone that comes past.
We approach the first aid station at The Outlet. This is where the Tarawera River leaves Tarawera Lake. The aid station is not on the trail, but off over a bridge about 50 metres away. A vollie hurriedly yelling out, “Trial straight ahead, aid station to your left”. Caz is in front, and suffering the indecision of the runner with momentum, keep going or stop. I make up her mind by yelling out “TOILET STOP!” For the last few k's, a rumbling stomach. I sprint across the bridge to the portaloos.

The Outlet at 5.3k in 53:20

Return to find Caz at the food, picking through the things she liked.
FOOD INTAKE: 2 rounds of peanut butter sangas, a handful of almonds, a few jelly beans, and half a banana. I refill one of the squeezy bottles with Tailwind, already drinking a lot. Cool conditions, but very humid and sweating a fair bit.
A few minutes here, then head off again, stopping periodically to take photos and video with Caz's GoPro. The trail is still winding its way around Lake Tarawera, going up and down, twisting etc. Not savage, but enough to quell any running rhythm. Caz was not really enjoying this section, the terrain not to her liking. I was like a pig in mud (a euphemism I was going to regret later) as it reminded me of the trails around Sassafras in The Dandenongs, my home state of Victoria. At the 8km mark, we climbed again, a few short sections, then for another kilometre that twisted back and forth. Stuck in a line of runners I quipped how Paul Charteris at race brief had said that the trail was essentially runnable for the full length. Cue sarcastic laughter by all.

Somewhere along here the first of the 102k runners came flying through, at serious pace. The section through here very technical as well. Tree roots, rocks, a tight trail. Caz and I took turns in front. Her so she could dictate the pace and keep it within her abilities. Me when she needed a break from concentrating on trip hazards. We swapped 3k outside of Humphries aid station and I immediately caught up with a woman using dual walking poles. Now, I’m an each to their own sort of person when it comes to poles in these races. But…  it was a busy section, still lots of runners on the trail, it was technical and there is a what I consider a valid argument as to their effectiveness. And safety. After nearly copping one in the face as I clambered over a tree root, I thought it time to back off a little bit.

Humphries aid station, 13.3 k in 2:20. 

Disappointed to find no bears, and pants on… Caz needed a toilet, only to find it was a pit type, with a long queue. I headed to find food and drink.
Not being a princess type I opted to take the jungle head on, almost body crawling under a massive fallen tree into the thick scrub. Who’s got time to line up when you’re already under the realisation your goal time is slowly stretching further and further away.
FOOD INTAKE: 2 peanut butter sangas, 1 jam sanga, 1 banana, 4 small choc brownies, ½ handfull jelly beans, 2 handfuls of plain chips, and refill my bottle with Tailwind. Caz was back from the toilet quickly, hmmmm…. It was just a pee Les haha
Back on the trail again and a short climb out of the aid station, hear my name, then Caz’s called out. It was Jared running in a relay team, filling in for Kate who was injured. I was genuinely happy to see Jared doing so well. Descend again to what looked like a continuation of Lake Tarawera, but was, in fact, Lake Okataina and the start of the leg to the next aid station. But it was also getting a bit muddy along here. Trail type still as before with the occasional stunning view across the lake through the mist and rain. Gave a bit of mental relief, but for Caz, her mood was not lifting. It was here I was trying to enjoy the scenery but the rain and drizzle just kept playing on my mind. Still, we chatted about various topics and kept moving forward and that kept a sense of purpose to our run. We both secretly hoped the trail after Lake Okataina aid station would be easier (read more running on a straighter trail, less of the churned up muddy sections).

Me looking good, rain jacket stowed after I got too hot.
(Official photo from http://photos4sale.nz)

Photographer at the 16.6k mark, thankfully around a corner where we were both running. Run on, hoping the pic turns out. I relished this moment, knowing if the photographer was there, it wasn’t far until the aid station, who in there crazy mind would hike kilometres into a drenched forest just to take photos of crazy ass runners! I was wrong unless this guy knew a shortcut. Then another small climb, and walk again. By now the runners are thinning out, only small groups were encountered. The rain, previously drizzle or very light, got heavy. I was getting wet through my raincoat, shoes and shorts were soaked, but I wasn’t cold. But it was where I was at my lowest, not a fan of the heavy rain, and in the forest, it seemed to hit us in big drops. Now I am also concerned about chaffing. I actually had no idea Kate would be here, I’d forgotten all about the team swap between Jared and Braddon. It was so good to see her, knowing she’d helped train me and her having certainty in my ability, gave me the mental boost to stay positive.

Caz looking good early on.
(Official photo from http://photos4sale.nz)

At some point along here, chatting to Caz, I misjudged the height of a branch across the trail and bonked my head a good one. Slightly stunned, pain, and a dull headache but I was okay. Caz was concerned. Later that night I would feel the bump, painful to touch, but be buggered if I could remember it happening. Caz was now always walking the climbs, but still had enough energy to run the downhills and the flats, where running was possible. The final k and a bit were downhill to the aid station. I took off. Didn’t tell Caz, but thought she’d appreciate the time without me to collect her thoughts knowing her good friend and coach Kate would be here.

Lake Okataina aid station, 23.3k in 4:35. 

Out of the forest and into a carpark where the food tents were set-up. Jamie Moxham (following partner Ali around) taking photos, Kathy Swinkels (following partner Mark around) also taking photos and Kate and Braddon there. Headed once again for the food tables determined to fuel up big as the next stop was 16k away. Caz came in a minute or so later and was greeted warmly by Kate. We all chatted, got photos and hung around for quite a while.
FOOD INTAKE: 2 honey sangas, 2 peanut butter sangas, 1 jam sanga, 3 handfuls of potato crisps, ½ my bodyweight in choc brownies, and refill both bottles with tailwind.
Hugs, a pep talk from coach Kate and then we were off again.
Sharp climb out of the aid station as we headed inland (Braddon had warned us about this), and Caz drilling me for info on the climb(s) ahead. I always study a course beforehand. My recollection was 2 climbs, the 1st being the most significant. A few 102k and 87k runners had come through and are in the mix with us as we climb the trail. As it flattened out, we start running, and I immediately have gut pain. The choc brownies, dammit! Then we hit some mud, again. Surely not…
I duck into the forest to toilet, and find it’s just gas. But not before registering it on the Richter scale! Happiness is a dry fart mid-ultra.
Came across a clearing in the forest, many garden type plants around pointing to an old landholding at some point in the past. This section reminded me of a scene out of Jurassic Park, clear fields big ferns, mountains, and big trees, I felt light and a moment of relief from the oppressive darkness of the canopy of forest and incessant and at times heavy rain. Then we climb again, 5k to the summit of our first climb. Quite steep at the start, the trail had serious ruts and washouts, muddy and deceptively slippery underfoot. The rain eased back to drizzle, and the temperature starting to warm up, I stop and take off the raincoat, pack it up and put it in a pocket in the vest thinking it would come out again. It didn’t. Climbing was slow. I was rapidly revising finish times. Even at the last stop, I was thinking 11:30 not out of the question, but up here, no such chance. Over 12 best guess. I started catching, passing and being passed by other 62k runners as I ran ahead, stopped and waited for Caz, then, later on, would do the same. After 1:20 from Lake Okataina, we summit. No trig, no plaque I could see or rock cairn. We just start descending again. Start running again with Caz, then we hit the mud and 10k of the filthiest, slippery mud on the whole course. She’d been hoping for good track down to get some running in and peg back the time we’d lost on the way up. This was almost the final straw for Caz. Totally getting to me by now, but this is my tactic... if I’m not aware of whats ahead I have no assumptions, cant overthink things, and just get to concentrate on foot placing, posture and getting it done. Pre-race I will look at elevation overall, ask advice from others who may have done the course before then just concentrate on enjoying the ability to do what I love.

Mud on the way down, mud on the way up!
(Photo credit: Toni Burns)

I'd been assessing the mud as poo to mentally amuse myself. This section was dark chocolate brown, sort of 'all night on the Stout' kind of colour (possibly texture as well). It was very slippery, lots of puddles of water on top disguising what was underneath. Despite the conditions, my shoes were performing brilliantly. Only the sloppiest of mud would present anxious moments.
Came across a few runners tentatively tip-toeing down some deep rutted muddy trail. As I passed, a quick look at the show model, “Hokas?”. Yep. Seems they weren't good descending in the mud. Maybe certain models better than others, maybe wrong shoe for that person. I passed about 5 runners with this issue.
At one point I decided Caz needed some more 'alone' time, and took off down a long section of seriously rutted slippery golden brown (think breastfeeding baby poo colour). I was starting to worry I was holding you back (knowing you could do the course so much faster) and here I was really starting to feel my blisters, however knowing the state of my shoes and feet there was no way in hell I was removing my shoes, I’d never get them back on again. I started slow, then gained confidence, and speed and then was barely on the edge of control, legs, knees, elbows in all directions searching for grip, stability and above all else, staying upright. At the bottom was a creek that we had to wade through (shin deep), so washed the shoes and socks. And then looked up to see another 50 metres of golden brown slop (shoes immediately filthy again). I waited, Caz came down just as 2 girls were crossing the creek. A brief chat between Caz and one of the girls resulted in them hugging one another in solidarity of 'we just want to get out of this fucking mud!' This poor girl was totally over it, I understood her feelings but what could you do, there wasn’t any point on standing, waiting for a chopper to get us out, it wasn’t going to happen. I hoped my hug gave her the boost she needed to just remember we were all feeling the same. We are now about 32/33 k's in 6 ½ hours and I'm still feeling fine. On my feet a long time, but the pace was well within my comfort zone. Not for Caz, but I was able to be around for her. Cue feeling of broken toe. 

Mud, shitloads of it.
(Photo credit: Toni Burns)

Start of the 2nd climb on this section, and more mud, more trashed trail. Caz is sucking down another gel, searching for any assistance she can get. I still have the gel and the protein bar in the pack, yet to need either. She has a Kit Kat strapped to the top of her pack. We share it walking up the trail (“Have a break, have a Kit Kat”). The cumulative effect of the climbs makes it slow going. The forest has opened out a lot, and soon we see cleared paddocks on the hills adjacent the trail.
37k mark, and descend again. Different mud type here, less Stout, more IPA. Quite a few 102k runners along here, and once again I travelled forward of Caz and ran with a few of them, keep them company. They wouldn't talk much, probably just happy to have proximity to another human for a period. Wait for Caz again, and we continue on, still running the downs and occasional flat sections, but only where the mud is not overwhelming. A few runners enquiring as to how far to the next aid station. As everybody's watch is showing different distances (GPS error, inaccuracies etc.), a few were excited, a few were under-whelmed, a few were pissed off.
And finally, the unmistakable sound of music through the forest. Seemed like Drum and Bass, a bit hard to tell. But I estimated we must be at least a kilometre away! Soon enough a sign saying the aid station is just 200 metres away. Yeah, heard it! Waited for Caz, but when she caught up she was content to walk in, so I ran in.

Millars Aid Station, 40k in 8:12. 

OMG, what a sight. It reminded me of the Du Long Bridge scene from Apocalypse Now. Music blaring, weird hallucinations (okay that was me seeing all the fluro on display), just needed the spaced out soldiers with no comprehension of what was going on (okay, that was the runners). But they were a very enthusiastic and supportive bunch of volunteers. Caz came in, grabbed some food then told me she was off to the toilet. A minute or so later I look towards the portaloos to see her being consoled by a vollie and clearly distressed. Everyone has a revelation during times of physical and mental fatigue. I distinctly remember (and will never forget) picking up some peanut butter sandwich squares and looking over to the paddock, then uncontrollable tears, not crying just tears. This totally threw me, I remember thinking what the actual fuck is happening to me. I walked away from the hustle bustle of everything to collect my thoughts, only to have the vollie keep following me asking if I was ok. I assured her I was but by now I started to verbalise I wasn’t sure I could finish it, which caused more tears. In an instant this girl turned my head around by some simple words of encouragement..... you’re through the hardest and longest section, it’s downhill from here and only 7k to the next aid station. This mental strategy allowed me to focus on breaking the rest of the course down. 7k I could do!!
Decision time, one of 2; Ignore and let her deal with it, or confront head-on. I chose the latter. If anything was going to go pear-shaped here I needed to know I'd done everything I could to help Caz. As it was the chat with the vollie had helped. A quick hug from me, and back to the food table.
Got talking to the head vollie (who shall remain anonymous, although his real name is David Massey!), he asked “Where you from, how are you going?” etc. Told him I'm fine, but my friend was doing it hard. He looks at me with a face that conveys “I've got this!”, and launches off after Caz before my semi-wasted brain can grab him and plead “No, please don't!!!” But too late, I can only watch through fingers of hands pressed against my face expecting fireworks as Caz responded. But thankfully all was good, events not inflamed. This guys enthusiasm was personified! Although I was mentally back on track, it was heartwarming to listen to his words. He noticed I was wearing a rhino pendant necklace (a gift from Kate) and started reminding me a rhino never backs down, it only ever goes forward, they’re tough and not afraid of anything. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I actually work in Africa with orphaned rhino’s of all ages, and for the most part they’re afraid, unsure and rely on reassurance, and will back down if you stand your ground. Mind you when they do feel threatened or scared they will charge, and if you don’t move quickly will cause some serious damage. I don’t feel charging towards anyone would paint a picture of understanding, so I just kept eating (another favourite thing for a rhino to do).
FOOD INTAKE: more potato crisps, 1 peanut butter sanga, 1 honey sanga, refill of bottle with Tailwind, and another handful of choc brownies (previous issues forgotten/ignored/in denial).
Back on the road (actually), a gently descending gravel road, Millar Road. Caz and I walked for a bit, digesting food, composing ourselves. She hadn't wanted me to see her in that state back at the aid station. Sorry mate, your issues were my issues, we were in this together. We started running and met a woman walking her dog back up the road. Caz (a vet nurse) stopped to see if the dog was friendly, and give him a pat. She was able to pat him, and I think that helped her immensely. It did help a great deal. I ran on and caught up with a 102k runner. I'd seen her remove her shoes at Millars, not a pretty sight I can confirm. Actually, it was a horror show. Mine weren't in great shape, constant mud and water had made them swell and I could feel them pinching in certain places. I'd already loosened the laces twice, but still, the shoes felt snug.*

Trail shoes aren't meant to be clean!
This scene greeted me the following morning after I'd
dumped them outside the unit the night before.

We were on bitumen here. I stopped around a corner to wait for Caz and then we ran together for a bit. Nearly cleaned up by an erratic motorist on a corner, not in any hurry to get over to let us past. 2 hours previously I'd switched off my phone after hearing a warning tone that I was at 15% battery. I would leave it off so that I had juice left at the finish to text Nicky. Just as we left the road and went back on the trail around Lake Okareka when my watch beeped an unfamiliar tome; low battery. It was my 2nd and last warning (ignored previous one). 30 seconds later the time is showing on my watch and the GPS signal receiver has been shut down. Perplexed, I couldn't work out why at 8:41 the battery dies when I'd set it up to last at least 15 hours. Using HR chews more battery, I knew that. Later I would work out that I'd used the wrong activity setting.
Caz and I ran for a bit, walked for a bit around the lake, then back into a built-up area of holiday homes, back to lake trail again. Then back to the road again, we stopped running and walked across the road. Then we spy 4 women ahead, spectators. But dressed up in bridal gear, a bridal party or hens night getup. As we approach, “You have running shoes on” (emphasis on 'Running'). “You know what people with running shoes should be doing?” I look back at Caz, she mutters under her breath “Oh for fucks sake. C'mon then...” and we start running. The women jump up and down, whooping and hollering, hi-5 us as we trot past. Bloody hell, not sure we needed that. Looking back on this it brings a smile to my face, they were the sweetest most fun loving girls.
Off the road and into another trail that was dark as buggery. By now it is late afternoon, on a cloudy day, under a dense canopy. Very Lord of the Rings, although more Mordor than Hobbiton for my liking. More mud, more twisty trail, more sharp climbs (Caz well and truly over it), but the thought of another aid station ahead was pushing us on. Climb around a water reservoir, then descend a shitty worn out trail that eventually came out at the aid station at Lake Tikitapu. What a great aid station, lots of spectators lots of food. The theme of this aid station was Zombie Apocalypse. I stared at a vollie for an extended period, before I realised I wasn't hallucinating, she did, in fact, have a bullet hole in the middle of her forehead. Saw Jacqui O'Connell and wondered over to see if she knew how Tony was doing. Pretty good was the response. Through this section was the hardest for me, I’d gone into a really dark place in my mind, it wasn’t anything I can describe it wasn’t sadness, anxiousness but a feeling of just nothingness. I likened this to being sucked up by a dementor from Harry Potter.

Lake Tikitapu at 45.7 in 9:32

FOOD INTAKE: 2 peanut butter sangas, 2 handfuls of potato crisps, multiple pieces of cold pizza, and 1 choc brownie (lesson learned) and fill up a bottle with Tailwind.
After a few minutes, we headed out across the road over the timing mat and that's when Caz spotted her husband, John. She was so pleased and a little bit surprised to see him. He walked with us a bit, chatting about other runners he'd seen, many we knew. Asked us how we were going. I was totally surprised to see John and grateful for him being there, although I think I was still in another domain in my mind, I later found out he waited at the aid station for 4 hours!! Knowing John loves meeting new people and chatting, I was at first worried he waited so long but then happy knowing he would’ve revelled in the large group of spectators and been impressed by the runners. It definitely gave me a bit more of encouragement knowing we were closing in on the finish.

Caz and I at Lake Tikitapu.
(Photo credit: John Donovan)

A quick photo, goodbyes, then we were off again. The side of the lake, then turn right up along a grass slope, roped off from an adjoining parking area. A group of spectators clap us and then tell us that it's “all downhill to the finish after this hill”. I called this bullshit. Been caught too many times before with well-meaning spectators giving me info they think I want to hear, rather than need to hear.
A gradual climb up Tarawera Road on a tight shoulder with cars whizzing past. Turn left, then immediately right onto a trail just as Caz's watch shows signs of dying. Unlike mine, hers will lose the whole plot. So she stops and saves it, then sets up Strava to record the remainder. Came out into an area of recent logging, the trail/gravel road running parallel with the road we'd just been on. Came across a marshal at a fork in the road, barely a teenager. After several dodgy or unbelievable info re distance run and left to go, Caz asked him how far, and he assured us that it was most definitely only 13k to go. Caz, ecstatic, demanded a hug! Got one from him! We suddenly worked out that in the next k Caz would have run 50k, another milestone (44k being her previous longest distance, we noted it at the time). Stopped to get the photo, un-logged pines in the background.
Thought it was going to be flat here. But no, a few more climbs to grind out. I was doing the run ahead, then stop and wait, consequently leapfrogging the same runners. They must have been getting sick of me by now. Came across a female runner, 2 ITB straps on her knees. Couldn't have been working, she was walking as if on crushed glass.

Caz at the 50k mark,
celebrating the milestone.
(Photo credit: Caz Donovan)

Finally hit a downhill and more washed out, muddy trail. Also started spotting houses on the outskirts of Rotorua (Owhata actually). Caz caught up with me and we ran/walked through here. A few chats about what it takes to run ultras, mentally and physically. Caz doubting herself, but I was assuring her she has what it takes. I mean we are basically 53/54k's into a 62k ultra. Even getting to that point is an achievement. Run on a bit and came up to a Marshall pointing us down a road, “1k to Redwoods aid station”. I look back for Caz, but she is still coming. I start off down the hill on the road. Slowly at first, then as it turns to bitumen I gain speed. Very soon I am barrelling down at 5min/k as it twists and turns. Through a gate at the bottom, then a 400 metre flat section to the aid station. I ran all the way in, happy to be able to stretch out for a short period. Spectators still here waiting for their runners, clapping and calling out names. Such a hoot. Hit the aid station, surrounded by vollies wanting to help us get food and drink.

Redwoods Aid Station at 56k in 11:40? (Watch dead, didn't know, didn't care)

Even here, being so close to the finish I'd had enough, I was metabolically spent, mentally I felt ok, but cardiovascular felt completely depleted. Started sweating again. (Sweating or swearing?)
FOOD INTAKE: Handful of almonds, a handful of potato crisps, 2 cups of coke, 1 cup of ginger beer. Refill my bottle with coke. (had enough of tailwind).
Caz in soon afterwards, only stayed a short time, then we set off, walking at first until she was ready to run again. The trail went into a parkland, where we turned left after a k. A woman in our race ahead, power walking rather than running. We start running, catch her then stop again, she strode ahead. Now heading west alongside SH30 (the road that goes to the airport), and we are joined by a 102k runner with his pacer (pacers allowed for the last 20k of their run). All of us come out to a bridge to cross Puarenga Stream, the sulphurous smell of Rotorua quite strong here. Marshall, another young girl, assures us 2.5k to go. Marshalls on the other side of the bridge (no greater than 50 metres in length) assure us it is 2k to go. (See previous about dodgy race instructions). Sign at the path as we go under the bridge on the path to the finish line says 1.7k to Government Gardens, our finish line. We all have a laugh, yep we'll take that one!
On the other side of the bridge, we all start to run again. Caz and I for about 600 metres, walk for a bit, run a bit more. We are approaching the sulphur flats, areas of active geothermal activity including steam vents, sulphurous yellow rocks, and a barren landscape where nothing grows. As we run into these areas Caz is concerned (she has sulphur allergies). She pulls her VUR THIR over her mouth, holds her hand out for me to grab and we run through this area hand-in-hand. Clear that area, walk again and a woman in our race slowly trots by, very cheerful and chatty. We run again, pass her back, run across another area of sulphur. By now we could see the lights of Government Gardens and associated buildings. It is getting dark, but we resist getting out our head torches. Cars are streaming down the road to our left, headlights sweeping across the tops of the bushes there, and we run again until we are to turn right at a hotel/convention centre. We are so close now, we know it. The stench through the sulphur flats was the worst part of the entire day for me, already struggling to get some breath I felt like I was being asphyxiated, kept dry retching.
Caz pulls me aside and says she doesn't want the woman we've just passed to beat her. Nothing more than a small mental battle to keep her going on, keep herself focused. “No worries”, I say, “I'll keep an eye out”. We continue on around a carpark, but as we exit and hit paths in a park again I glance back and spy the woman only a 100 metres behind us. Tell Caz, “Oh fuck..”, and off we run again. Passed a thermal pool, we can hear the PA, music, lights from the finish line blaring away.
We are close enough that adrenaline takes over and we just keep running. A short path, then turn right, the finish line straight ahead, spectators clapping and cheering. We cross the first timing mat 100 metres out. It is there as a backup if the main fails, and also so the PA can call up facts about us to read out. Hear my name called out, then we hear our friends Kate, Matt, Braddon, John and Stacey calling out to us, clapping and cheering as we both run up to the finish.

Caz and I finishing. Woman photo left was our power walking friend
from Redwoods. (Official photo from http://photos4sale.nz)

Finish Line, 62.4k's in 12:32. 

It's all over. Amazingly, Paul Charteris is there to hand me my medal and give me a hug. Same for Caz. We get a photo with our medal on the finish line, then we both hug, long and hard, words exchanged, a bond formed, memories forever. Hard to believe I’d finished, I was still overwhelmed physically, but so grateful my body held up, especially my ankles! I mentally felt ok but medical staff must’ve thought otherwise, I don’t really remember what they said, but weighed me (probably to assess dehydration) and I was shocked to see I’d lost over a kilo through the day!

Caz with her finisher's medal. This photo, more than others, makes me
the proudest. (Official photo from http://photos4sale.nz)

Physically I'm fine, felt great, mentally and emotionally I'm spent, nothing left after 62k. Medical staff greet us, assess us and see how we are. I tell them I'm fine, and honestly, I was. Caz felt a bit off, had a chat with medical staff and was weighed as a precaution. Slightly underwhelmed by the food in the recovery area (really looking forward to hot savoury food, maybe some Turducken?). Chat with Matt and Kate, Matt had a great run. Tony O'Connell comes in, ran a fantastic race in the 102, so happy for him, inspires me as a runner.
We had a wristband strapped on at race rego day before. It was for a free beer after we finished. All cock-a-hoop I decided to have one. Then it all went a bit downhill for me. Went from hero to zero in 30 seconds. Hunched over, hands on knees as wave after wave of nausea hit me. We'd talked about heading home, but I was not keen on vomiting in somebodies car, let alone the recovery tent. I suddenly announced I was going outside and just took off. Matt came and sat with me and chatted. He'd had a similar reaction after finishing his race. We sat for a period, and it took my mind off things and eventually, the feeling passed. I was (and am still) very touched he did that. Helped me considerably in the aftermath.

Shaking the hand of race organiser, Paul Charteris as I collect my medal
from him. (Official photo from http://photos4sale.nz)

Matt and Stacey drove me back to the unit. I felt better, just needed a shower and a lie-down. Muddy shoes dumped outside the unit, I'd deal with them in the morning, race kit thrown in the bathroom. Lie down, Facebook for a few hours (so many notifications, so little time…) until about 1:30 in the morning when I was suddenly hungry enough to eat a muffin and have a cup of green tea.
Slept till 8:00 am

Sunday - There's got to be a morning after.

Got up and immediately check the phone for the progress of a friend doing the miler. Bec still hadn't registered a time at the 2nd last timing mat. Little did I know she was finishing pretty much as I got up. My Facebook feed still in meltdown (All Tarawera), trying to keep up with all. Had breakfast, coffee and then laze around for a bit. Body felt fine, legs a bit tight, overall fatigue etc., but I was good. I cooled down fairly quickly and started to get cold, John wanted to get me back to the hotel but I was worried about you, however, Stacey assured me they would look after you. I slept well apart from my legs being hot. I also recovered really well, apart from a pus mashed up toe, but grateful it was only one!!
On reflection, I couldn’t have asked for a more supportive, passionate and sincere person to run my first true ultra with. In those conditions you judged me perfectly, allowing me to experience my own journey, and to feel every emotion that comes with it but just being ahead of me for reassurance it was all part of becoming an ultra runner.

A bit of fun on the Monday after the race, Luge at Stratosfare
in Rotorua. Jamie, Ali, Dazza and Trish.

Go to Fat Dog café with Caz and John, caught up with Trish and Ali and co after they ran the 102 and 87k races. We swap war stories, I hear about Mark Swinkels having to pull out of the 102k race after helping an injured runner for several hours.
Back to the unit, spend an hour cleaning the shoes, race kit, hydration vest etc. With the wet weather, I'm concerned they won't dry before I fly back on Tuesday.
At 4pm we head off to the miler presentation to see my friend Bec standing on the podium in 4th place. A fantastic achievement from such an unassuming and humble person. A great speech from Paul Charteris, who promptly bursts into tears afterwards the strain and emotion of running this event there for all to see.

A Shoutout to all who fronted the start line, and all who supported/cheered us on the day 

62k

Caz Donovan – My partner in crime. We talked about this nearly a year ago as a joint venture. Despite you telling me repeatedly it was okay for me to run ahead (read, head off and run your own race), I refused to do so. My word was my bond, we would finish together.
Shane Smedley – Fellow VUR/DTR/LTR who has come a long way, and continues to improve immensely.
Jared Skull and Braddon Atkinson in a 62k relay team -  The boys did well as a throw together team, neither noted as trail runners. Was great seeing them on the course.
Matt Blashki – You ran a fantastic race in appalling conditions. And I will never forget our little chat after I'd finished my race.
Justin Cutler – Despite torn meniscus and a stack in the dairy aisle at Countdown (supermarket, not the ABC music show...), completed the course. Gutsy effort.

87k

Ali Moxham – guts, determination and always with a smile. Never fails to impress me. And great fun on the luge Monday evening, what a hoot.
Heidi Cutler – smashed the first half of the course to catch Justin, and consequently ran herself into 4th place woman overall. Just sensational.

102k

Trish  Yates – What more can be said about you, Trish. Since I've met you you've gone from strength to strength. And such a wonderful supporter of me and many other runners. Was fabulous seeing you there.
Tony O'Connell – What a fabulous run, a great friend and someone who impresses and inspires me constantly.
Brett Tilley – Is there nothing you can't achieve Brett? 102 here, then backing up for Shotover? And such a friendly and assuming runner, teamwork with Trish helping her achieve her goal.
Mark Swinkels – Just massive kudos for sacrificing your race to help an injured runner. We would all do what you did (I hope), but I sincerely hope that the race organisers recognise your efforts in some way. To Vic ultra and trail runners you are a legend.
Deb Sharp – Mate, really bummed your race turned out the way it did. But you got Shotover done (albeit with a medical emergency thrown in!).
Stuart Hughes - Always great to see you running so well, and such an understated performer.

Miler

Bec Howe – Another runner who through deeds and actions inspires me as a runner. So humble and unassuming, your dedication to training and preparing for this race gave you the deserved result.
Simon Neale – Such a strong run on that course, and like Bec unassuming, yet dedicated.

Supporters (It can't be easy waiting for us, hours on end)

John Donovan – Caz's partner, waited patiently for us at Lake Tiktapu and helped Caz considerably there.
Jacqui O'Connell - You do so much supporting and volunteering, you deserve as much recognition of Tony's result as he does.
Jamie Moxham – The awesome Jamie of the Jamie and Ali show! Great seeing you at Okataina, why my smile was a mile wide. Your support on-course for Ali going well into the night (and following morning) was fantastic.
Kate Atkinson – A wonderful supporter of all runners, so great seeing you at Okataina, bubbly and chatty and confident for Caz. Know how much you've help Caz in the lead up to Tarawera.
Kathy Swinkels – What a tough day, not knowing where Mark was, and what might have happened to him. Thanks for the shout-out on the day at Okataina, was greatly appreciated.
Darren Yates – The irrepressible partner to Trish. Pacer for her for the last 20k and such a genuinely happy person to have around. Great seeing you.
Stacey – Lovely to meet you Stacey, and thanks for the lift home after the race. Sorry if this feral runner stank your car up! See you again somewhere around the traps.
Lou – Simons partner. Crewing for a runner from 4:00am on Saturday to the early hours of Sunday morning is above and beyond the call of duty. Well done.
Suzi Smedley – Shane's partner. Followed Shane around the course. Lovely bumping into you at Firmin Field, sorry if I didn't immediately recognise you, I was zoning into race mode. And in my defence, you had the hood pulled up on your rain jacket!
And I'm sure I've missed people. To all who shared the journey and the weekend, thanks. Even without writing this blog, I have been reliving moments, times and emotions for the last 2 weeks with such a smile on my face.

*Confession Time: My shoes were purchased 3 weeks prior to Tarawera with the thinking I would break them in on a couple of trail runs. Usually like to have at least 50k, if not triple figures on a pair of shoes before racing. Didn't happen. One hurried parkrun the weekend before, and front up with a measly 5k on them. But before I talk up the brilliance of my Brooks Cascadia 12 (for the benefit of the sponsors, that I don't have…), I select shoes for comfort above most other criteria. It worked, not one blister or rub point. And they got a serious thrashing in the mud, tree roots, rocks etc., but survived it all.

Next race is Roller Coaster Run, 21k. Probably completed by the time this blog gets out! I will either have worked out I've recovered well enough to have a crack at my PB, or have crashed in a screaming heap somewhere.

Until next time….

Blog title is taken from Boards of Canada - In A Beautiful Place Out In The Country.