Tarawera Race Report - A Race in Three Parts

I’d fallen down for the umpteenth time in the mud.  It was the middle of the night, the rain was pelting down and I wondered why I was doing this?  Why not just give up and stop here?

I glanced at my arm. The word Whakapapa was written there as a henna tattoo. What does whakapapa mean?  It means genealogy, but not just family though that is important.  My whakapapa reminds me I am connected not only to my family but to all living things going back eons:  The land, the trees, the animals, the people of Aotearoa (New Zealand). 

I felt the mud in my hands.  I felt the land.  It is not my land though.  Does the descendant of colonizers have land?  But, It is where my roots are.  I remembered my why.  I remembered my whakapapa.  I got up.  I moved forward.

Preamble

My A race for this year was the 102.4 km Tarawera Ultramarathon in Rotorua New Zealand held on February 10th, 2018. Planning, visualizing, studying the course, and training consumed my thoughts for many months.

My planning proved to be a waste of time.

Why

Everything worth doing in the world requires a “why”.  My why for this race came into a sharp focus when my mother contacted me and said she was in the hospital.

My mother is not well.  She has diabetes and has already lost one of her legs to the disease.  A couple of months ago an infection had taken hold in her body and things were touch and go whether or not she would put through.

She told me later that the thing that kept her going was the thought of her doing the last 200 meters or so with me of the race.

Everything was set to go for my entire family to go to Rotorua.  The hotel was booked, the cars arranged, and bags packed.

It was not to be though.  A new (old?) infection had taken hold in my mother’s leg and was creeping its way up her body.  Not good and potentially fatal.

With great reluctance, my mother checked herself into the hospital the day before the race.  She would not be able to join me for the last part of my race.

I had my why.  I would run the race for my mother.

Pre-race

My wife Megin, two of our kids, and I drove down to Rotorua in the first wave.  Various relatives would join us, later on, to help out.

Oh, and rain.  Lots and lots of rain had pelted the course prior to race day. I was initially pleased with the rain.  At least it would take the heat out of the race.  I had been fearing struggling through New Zealand’s heat after training in Canada’s winter.

Due to the rain, the race director had dictated a compulsory gear list that must be carried throughout the race. This included a thermal hat, thermal vest, and seam-sealed rain jacket. 

I had all this organized and rocked up to the gear check as part of the registration.  Turns out my rain jacket wasn’t up to spec.  Eeks!  I asked where I could purchase one and the check-in person told me that all the shops were closed and my only chance was to check out the Ultimate Direction booth at the race expo.  My wife and I dashed over to the booth and got the last jacket!  A little too close for comfort methinks.

Part One - The Cruise

Megin and I woke up at 5am, I guzzled my pre race nutrition, and my nephew Michael and his girlfriend Ashlee drove us to the start line.

The rain was persistent but not too heavy as I lined up at the start line.

Some Māori from the local tribe performed a prayer, the race director said “Go” and I was off wide-eyed and full of optimism that I would do it in my goal time of 16 hours.

The first part of the course followed a river before diving into a forest. 

All my pre-race nutrition and hydration caught up with me and I had to dash of course into the forest the relieve myself.  Ow!  I had a stabbing pain in my right leg. I looked down and saw that a bee had stung me!  The little bastard!

It wasn’t a big deal and I kept on going.  A fellow runner on the course got stung three times and one poor fellow got stung and had an allergic reaction only 5 kms in. I hope that he could keep running but I didn’t find out what happened to him.

I carefully monitored my hydration and nutrition and cruised through various aid stations until I met my wife at the Tarawera Outlet station.  It was great to see her after 40 km ish of running. 

I felt good, had plenty of energy and was ready to attack the last 60 km.

The Humphrey’s Bay aid station was only 8 km away.  This should be easy, right?  Nope.

Part Two - The Mud

As previously mentioned there had been lots of rain.  This meant that for the next 50 km or so I would be running through ankle deep mud.  Well, not really running.  Slogging, squishing,  squelching, stumbling, struggling, falling, slipping, and cursing are all more appropriate words.

Running itself was impossible.

What made it even worse was the runners in front of me had already squelched through the mud making it even more treacherous.

There was also several of the major hill climbs on these sections.  These turned into something more resembling a mountain climbing section.  Progress was slow.  Many times I was hands-and-knees desperately finding a way up. 

I fell down more times than I can count.  Once I landed straight on my back and it knocked the wind out of me.

I teamed up with various runners throughout the day and this made things a lot easier.  Some were good to be with, some were not.  One particular gentleman did nothing but moan and I doubt if he managed to finish.

I settled into a group of about five and we settled into the work ahead.  This eventually led to a group of two: Myself and a lady from Hamilton called Cathie.  We made a pact that we would stick together until we reached our pacers with 20 km to go.  When she needed to stop to dislodge a shoe from the mud, I waited.  When I needed to tend to a small toe that was turning to mush, she waited. 

This sort of thing has happened to me before in ultra races: I find someone to team up with and we both become stronger as a result.

But the mud. The mud was relentless and sucked the energy out of me.

I knew one thing for sure and that was quitting was not an option.  I just had to keep doing the next thing in front of me. If I just put my left foot here and then I can put my right foot there and that will enable me to pull myself up to over there.

I repeated doing-the-next-thing over and over and gradually moved forward with some sort of momentum.

I met up with my support crew again at the Okataina Lodge aid station.  I took my time here as I was already beaten up and had another 40 km to go.  I changed my clothes, got a mini rub down on my legs and shoulders, shoved food in my mouth, hugged the wife and family, and off I went again with a marathon still left to traverse.

The next twenty km was more of the same.  Mud and more mud and super slow progress.

Part Three: The ride home

I made to the Blue Lake aid station where Megin, nephew and his girlfriend were waiting.

Well, actually not Megin.  She was worried that I had got lost in the forest or had fallen down and gotten injured and went into the forest to search for me.  Bless her!  It turns out that the course had been diverted due to a downed tree.

We eventually found each other and headed off together to finish the last 20km together.

The course had become a lot more runnable.  The course was mud free.  But running was beyond me so Megin and I power walked as best I could.

We were joined by a group of six or so runners that were employing similar tactics.  Sometimes we were a little ahead of them.  Sometimes they were a little ahead of us.

At one point I heard some people behind me and made way for them to move on past.  Turns out they were the sweepers for the course.  Their job was to stay behind the last runners and make sure everyone was okay.

We were literally in last place.  Though “last place” is a misleading term.  After the race I learnt that 33% of the runners DNFed (did not finish).  The might have missed the cut off times.  They might have just quit.  Or they might have injured themselves.  We went past one poor guy on the course who had broken his ankle.  The medics would have to stretcher him out.

But I was still in the race.  I had to keep going.

We made to the final aid station.  I shoved more food in my mouth and collected my thoughts.  Only 5km to go! 

A volunteer informed me that I had one hour to get to the finish or else I would join the ranks of the DNFers.

To run 5km in an hour would usually be a piece of cake.  I can do 10km in about 50 mins.

But I had 97 km in my legs.  Power walking would not get me there, so I summoned all the strength I could, gritted my teeth as my legs protested and began to run.

Megin joined me in running and we headed to the finish.

I kept glancing at my watch and doing the math in my head.  After a couple of km I knew we were going to make it, but still, I keep running.

We wound our way through some of Rotorua’s thermal feeds and then into the parking lot of Rotorua’s government buildings where the finish line was.

We entered the finishing chute and ran the last 200 meters together and crossed the finishing line with 20 mins or so to spare.

I had done it!

I got a hug from the family and the race director who presented me with my finisher medal.

I took a seat and cheered as my fellow strugglers crossed the line.  A couple of them came up to me and shook my hand.  The said I look terrible out there and didn’t think I was going to make it.

I had my why.  I was always going to make it.

Postscript

Dylan Bowman won the 100km event.  He said in a post-race interview that the conditions out there were worse than the Mt Fuji ultramarathon in 2016 that he had experienced. 

The Mt Fuji ultramarathon was cancelled in 2016 due to safety concerns...