2022 World 100k Championships report

The German customs officer wasn’t buying it. ‘All the way from New Zealand, for a run?’ Narrowing his eyes, he looked at my passport and back to me. If it seemed like a cover story for dubious activity, the white powder stashed in my bag wouldn’t help the case. ‘Why so far for so short a time?’

I blame Wayne Botha. When expressions of interest opened for NZ team selection in the World 100k Championships, I wasn’t initially going to apply. Thanks to cancellations, slow Covid recovery, and busy life, running a half-decent 100km on the other side of the world in two months’ time seemed ambitious. However, Wayne is a persuasive man, and somehow at the last minute, it happened. I also slightly blame Martin Lukes, who was on Dirt Church Radio podcast around that time mentioning the unique attributes a road hundy offers.

There’s unfinished business there too. Back in 2010 I was keen to rock the World 100k champs in Gibraltar, after inadvertently qualifying with my first 100k. Instead, I had a child, and later the qualifier got tougher. Despite NZ having some solid history in the distance, including two silver medals at Worlds, we hadn’t mustered a team for over a decade. So when the congratulatory selection email arrived 12 years later, it felt like a full-circle opportunity that should be seized. Besides, who wouldn’t want to be on a team with Fiona Hayvice and Mel Aitken?

Flashback to 2010 gang at Taupō 100k.

“It’s only, like, half of 200k,” said the aforementioned Gibraltar-busting child with slight derision. “You’ve done more before.” The problem was less the distance than the speed. Unlike in a 24 hour, I wouldn’t be stopping for any meals or massage.

A road 100k is a head game, a pure pacing challenge. To be in a position for a PB, I knew I would ultimately need to feel good running metronomic 5-minute(ish) kilometres for most of the event. When you’re used to doing a 2-3 hour run at 5.30-5.40 pace, the idea of going faster than that for several times as long can be hard to compute. It comes down to a combo of work and faith.

I wrote a programme to gradually convince my body that running that pace for that long was a reasonable undertaking, and got into it. Out of 8-9 training weeks, I think I lost two to random viruses, which is par for the course, but gradually built up some fitness again. Marcus from Connect Osteopathy helped me stay in one piece, and Trek’n’Travel kept me fueled and clothed (three cheers for awesome supporters). A long run around Tamahere at race pace was a key confidence builder. I set myself a selection of cascading goals. Beating my PB of 8.42 (set 8 years prior), running sub-9 hours, getting under the NZ team qualifying time of 9.20, or just finishing, to ensure a team score.

The trip over was a bit rough, with 10 hours of turbulence on the 16-hour flight to Dubai. I was relieved to finally emerge in Berlin at midnight after about 300 hours on planes. In the morning, I set out for a jetlag-beating run and was wowed by the city’s cycle culture. Loads of bikes, bike lanes, and bike-laden balconies, and the cars seemed to happily coexist. This was probably my favourite thing about the city. Along with the 9-euro ticket that entitled you to go on any train or tram or bus for a MONTH. (Hear that, NZ?)

It was good fun to room with Fiona Hayvice and son Spike (AKA Strike, according to his accreditation). We settled in and went exploring. Berlin is a stunning city and we were only occasionally distracted by an underlying sense of anticipatory dread about the run. I mean, excitement.

The imposter syndrome was intense. Looking out over a sea of fit athletes at meals knowing just how fast they are is a tad freaky. It was also hot, my achilles niggled, and I felt fatigued from the minimal sleep, so there was plenty to work on in terms of staying zen.

On Friday we went to Bernau for the opening ceremony and parade. The bus dropped everyone off early and left, leaving slight chaos as everyone wandered in different directions or sheltered in doorways from a rain shower. Once organised, the parade was a blast. The South African team were in fine voice singing ‘Shosholoza’, and we could shoot fangirl glances at Patrycja Bereznowska just behind. (Note – she ran under 8 hours here (as a warmup?) and won the European 24-hour champs 3 weeks later with 256km. Boom). When it was NZ’s turn to be announced, the band launched into lively oompa music.

Afterwards the summer weather broke, and it poured. The weather on Saturday was meant to do this:

It did not do that. It was kind of misty, and then got warmer.

But I’m getting ahead. My brain’s habit of pinging awake at 3am was finally useful, as we had to be up early. A breakfast of mashed potato, a reflective bus ride in the dark, and then it was time to queue for the toilet, and queue for the toilet again just in case.

Start time came at last. We felt proud to be in the mix in our NZ singlets. Group hug – kia kaha – let’s go! I tucked in and relaxed into the first few kilometres, keeping an eye on the pace. It was fun to see all the action and cheer each other on at the out and backs.

There was a noticeable judder after the 30k mark, where things felt tricky sooner than expected. I was managing my stomach carefully, swapping nutrition where needed. I was thirstier than the temperature would suggest, but suspect this was also the humidity (over 90%). One lap I didn’t take a drink due to a niggly tummy, which was a mistake, but was able to rectify it with a bigger drink on the following lap. The setup was quite handy – we’d come past the tents approaching a keyhole lap of sorts and make an order with Steve (‘Small Nuun bottle, gel, sponge over head, Royale with cheese!’) and then he’d have it ready when we’d gone around the small loop and were heading out again.

Getting it done, lap by lap.
© Dinko Bažulić / Croatian ultra running team (Ultramaraton.hr)

I went through the marathon at 3.30 and halfway at 4.10. This started to get my hopes up a little – if I can slow the slowdown enough, a decent PB is possible. However, it’s after 60k that a 100k gets real, and this proved to be true. It gradually took more work to hold the pace. I did not manage to follow Wayne’s advice to run negative splits. Next time!

Many runners cheered each other on during the event, but if there was an ‘athlete’s athlete’ award, I’d give it to Joanne Murphy from Great Britain. Not only did she run a smoking 7.38, but she did it while enthusiastically cheering and encouraging every other athlete in the race en route, even those of us coming in an hour later. Goals.

Taking tips from GBR’s Joanne Murphy on how to enjoy 100k!
© Dinko Bažulić / Croatian ultra running team (Ultramaraton.hr)

The laps ticked on. Two steady laps and a bell lap push left, I told myself repeatedly. How did the laps get so much longer? Then the bell lap became a keep-moving-forwards lap, as things started to feel fragile.

When the end came I turned down the NZ flag Steve offered, as carrying it seemed…too much to think about. This is a cause for minor regret. Brains can be in their own world at these times! However, it was a blast to cross that finish line and hear ‘Dawn Tuffery aus Neuseeland!’ one more time.

The smile’s there, but what are my legs and arms doing?
© Dinko Bažulić / Croatian ultra running team (Ultramaraton.hr)

Mel came in soon after, and we lay on the grass, with a collective mixture of bliss, nausea and cramp. I was pleased that I managed a PB – by a meagre 20 seconds, but still a PB. (These things are satisfying when you’re about to be 40.) Somehow everything held together, despite the niggles and fears, and I felt I’d managed the best result I could muster. There could still be more potential in there too, though the me below probably vowed ‘never again’.

My stomach had held out, just, but finally rebelled. It might be too much information, but I was intrigued to see that the Maurten gels came out looking like a glittering pile of crystal rain, the water storage stuff that you put in plant pots. This does imply it wasn’t doing much on the latter laps.

Fiona came in for a PB also, and we revelled in the relief and joy of finishing. When all was done, I’d come 6th in my World Masters Games age group, 53rd woman in the IAU World Championships (solid halfway) and our NZ team was 13th. Here’s my Strava stats and here are the results.

It was a mission at times, but I’m definitely grateful to have had the opportunity. It was a privilege to be part of the NZ team, and spend some time with a couple of lovely wahine toa.

We did it! Can confirm Mel was wearing pants despite rumours to the contrary.
(Photo by Steve Aitken).

Huge thanks to those who’ve supported this undertaking. Marcus at Connect Osteo, Trek’n’Travel, Hamilton City Hawks, and Mary Rogerson, Uncle Russ, and Charlie Evans for offering spontaneous donations. Heather and Carl made the biggest contribution and kept the home fires burning. Martin Lukes offered some great encouragement and advice. Steve was a fantastic and indispensable crew person. Cheers to Athletics New Zealand for deciding to send a team too. It’s a special experience to be part of. Thanks to that customs chap for eventually letting me into Germany too.

Lovely to see Katrin again.
With a few of the winning US team.

I’d encourage others to consider this event, especially keen marathoners or ultra trail runners. It’s a race that rewards patience and consistency, and it would be great to see NZ teams become a more regular fixture at the World Champs.

Besides, you too could attain this level of adulation from your family.

Sri Chinmoy 24 Hour Race, 2020

At the Sri Chinmoy event back in 2019, I remember Jamie Hawker cheerfully describing the folly of expecting a top result or PB every time you line up for an ultra. People think they can, he said, but it’s always going to be tick, tick, cross, tick, cross… Cheers, I said wryly. After two decent 24 hour races, that’s really encouraging to hear when I’m heading off to a World Championships for the first time.

He was right though. The 2019 World Champs in Albi was amazing to be at, but tough going, and ultimately ended up a big fat cross. (Recap: A few tricky factors coincided, for anyone interested (cue TMI). I accidentally glutened myself the night before and my period was due, neither of which helps structural integrity in the toilet stakes. And I was taking the Stacey Sims supplement cocktail to help PMT which can be good, but I think in retrospect that my stomach wasn’t loving the aspirin. Then there was lingering effects from a virus that they would certainly not have let me on the plane with if it was this year. (Remember international flights?) Anyway, I paced ok in the heat but struggled early with the stomach and keeping food down, eventually succumbing suddenly to a NOPE from the body and collapsing under a table some time at night. I remember Marcus’ brother Tristan asking tentatively at one point if I would be heading out to run again, and getting quite the withering glare from me for even suggesting such a horrifying thing. (Sorry. I did, but it took a few hours.) However, it was a true privilege to represent NZ again with the team and our super-crew, meet lovely people, chat with the best in the sport, and see them in repeated close-up action, like Camille Herron setting a world record. How many sports allow that?)

Team NZ in Albi

The reason I mention the Albi race is that I went in yearning to give the event my very best effort but ended up with my very worst result, which in retrospect had knocked my confidence more than I realised. Maybe that’s a sign I’m done on 24 hours, said the critical voice. You get perspective, you move on, but there’s something niggling.

Roll on 2020, and planned races cleared naturally off the calendar, including Ring of Fire, potentially competing in India, and Ultra 24. I still dithered on entering the 2020 Sri Chinmoy race in fear of crashing again. The way to get my head around it was to embrace it as a risk-free experiment. In Albi I wanted so much to do well that it got progressively more stressful when issues arose, which ultimately shut me down. This one is a ‘chill the heck out’ race I decided – take plenty of time to fix things, focus on a relaxed attitude, and have fun. Oh, and a PB would be nice, of course.

The family were amped.

So come November 14th, there I was. As I got to the track, Marcus had a gazebo set up with everything in it you could want, inspired by the international experience in Albi. This is the life! Even at 8am though, heat was radiating oppressively off the track. I much prefer cool weather running, but after encountering high temps in Taipei and Albi, I thought I could get through it if I was careful.

It was great to have lots of Hamiltonians there alongside me, and to catch up with old and new friends on and off the track. Garry and Ants from my running club Hamilton Hawks were dipping their toe into the loop game. (I think they were a bit traumatised though. Sorry guys. Please come back next time.)

Hawks represent!

Running and chatting ensued. One of the fun side events was seeing whether you could get the cups in the bin after having a drink (no). I would also have failed on ice buff construction as a test, as it ended up throwing the cubes all over the track to trip people up. All the karmic blessings to Tracy for handing out iceblocks. (I asked Marcus about possibly tracking an ice block down if he went to town, and then got handed one randomly by Simon on the SAME LAP.)

I’d said cheerfully from about 2pm onwards, ‘Only another hour or so, and the heat should drop!’ Yet even at 6pm it was still hot. Optimism fail. I was managing ok, with regular water over the head, a crop top, a wet towel or buff, ice in the cap, and slowing down a bunch. My first 24 hour had a 100k split at 9 hours 30 and this one took about 11 hours.

Sweet, only 11 hours or so to go..

‘Hey Marcus,’ I queried in the early evening. ‘Is it bad when my pee looks like Coca Cola?’ ‘It’s not great.’ he agreed. I’ve seen people affected by rhabdo and was nervous it might be that. But I was feeling ok otherwise, so sculled half a litre of Nuun and cautiously continued, pee monitoring closely. It gradually moved back to normality. (And then stayed freakishly clear for the remainder, despite periods of minimal hydration. Bodies are complex.)

Emotions can be close to the surface in this type of event. I kept welling up a little bit at small things, like pride in how well the whole women’s field were rocking it.

A bonus of a slower start was running consistently and fairly happily through the night. 2 or 3am is always hard. Music is something to look forward to and the shuffle delivered well.

So I’ll walk through this night, stumbling blindly toward the light..

With all that fatigue and emotion swirling, a good Heart chorus can be akin to a religious experience. Even Alba’s faves were hitting the mark – who knew Anna from Frozen II was an ultramarathon guru?

Can there be a day beyond this night?

I won’t look too far ahead
It’s too much for me to take
But break it down to this next breath, this next step
This next choice is one that I can make

(Sidenote: Elsa gets the catchier numbers but that one’s surely the emotional heart of the film?)

I’d had this thing in my mind that part of my experiment would be to fix the stomach rather than get to vomiting stage. It was a great plan, for 18-19 hours. I’d slow down, take time, feel better, and run again. In many ways it was the best my stomach has ever been in a 24. But then I couldn’t fix it, and got stuck in a bit of a rut trying. Nausea is insidious. Even if your legs are ok, your body doesn’t want to do anything. It can be harder to push through than soreness.

Remember the ‘chill the heck out’ approach though? You could say everything went according to plan, because I basically did what I set out to do and maintained equilibrium. It was, overall, a really happy race. Except, no PB, and a sense I left something on the track. (Not as much as I left over the Albi fences though, hoho!). Which is where the mindset thing gets interesting – I guess it’s a trade-off, and needed to be part of the plan that at X point in time, you ditch the calm and patience, moving from self-preservation to self-obliteration. If it even feels like an option.

Technically great advice.

Bevan Docherty on my accommodation’s wall knew that pain now beats regret later. Fiona Hayvice knows too, and was relaying an encouraging message to this effect by social media. I agreed entirely – and still couldn’t make myself care enough to get through the queasiness. Something to work on. Tips welcome!

Running fast in the last part is bittersweet, I find – a sign I should have gone further! But it was great to have Andrew challenging me near the end to exceed his 191k PB, offering something fun to focus on. On Talk Ultra recently, Camille Herron mentioned that her husband Conor had done the same with Scott Jurek’s PB to inspire her to a record in Albi, so, pretty much same diff? Sidenote: I left my hair out because I like it that way, and figured I could channel some Herron speed via the hair. But I think she might use product.

Maite and Keith were a particular inspiration in the end, running strongly to great totals. I loved seeing Jaime and Mgcini get their milers. Finally the end came, and the bliss of stopping. 196km. Hugs, prizegiving, family, and a congratulatory song.

The next day I could still walk. It felt wrong. Shoulda run harder! But I’d also had time to offset the mild regret with the positives. I ran a solid total, and came third overall, in a good field. Got the NZ women’s title. Avenged the Albi bogey, mainly. If there is an opportunity to go to another championship for NZ, I have a strong qualifier for consideration. And best of all, I had fun. I was happy and relaxed a lot of the time, and really appreciated the cool conversations and connections. If I start naming names I think it’d be the whole field. There’s this quite lovely mutual admiration society amongst participants where you’ve been through a Thing together, and thus shortcut the usual social processes and go straight to kind of loving everyone (platonically). (NB, I hear that getting drunk is an easier way to do this, with fewer blisters.)

Hooray for sitting! With Keith and Mike, pic by Andrew.

Plus, it was genuinely interesting to try out some different things in a no-pressure home environment. I’ve always thought I wouldn’t consider multi-day runs due to being a wreck after one day, but if taking it a bit easier changes that aspect, it’s on the table. Or at least tottering on the edge..

Big thanks to Marcus from Daws Osteopathy for giving up so much time and effort to help me and other masochists run in circles. Thanks too to Trek’n’Travel, who kindly sponsored me with some Roam, Tailwind, and clothing. I feel very fortunate to have such great support! And thanks to the Sri Chinmoy team who always put on special events. Especially the kind people who made me food on request in the middle of the night.

Postscript: I figured that flat urban training would segue nicely into the hilly miler at Tarawera Ultra 2021, so that’s next. Wish me luck.

Sri Chinmoy results and gallery

Cool video by Remove the Need

‘Us ultrarunners are used to extraordinary.’

As we headed towards full Covid-19 lockdown in March, I was chatting online with fellow NZ ultrarunner Fiona Hayvice. Bidding each other a slightly nervous sign-off ahead of this unknown time, she mentioned in passing that, while it was indeed surreal, ‘us ultrarunners are used to extraordinary’.

At the time I agreed and we moved on, but something about that the truth of that sentence popped into my mind later.

Five reasons ultrarunners can do extraordinary:

1. Prep and pacing

Ultramarathoners know how to prepare for different eventualities, and then settle in for the long haul, without knowing exactly how long the haul will be. Endurance skills transcend the context. Whether ultra or lockdown, it’s about taking one step at a time and not using up all your resources in the first lap.

2. Adjusting to new challenges

If you anticipate using chafe cream and lollies in an ultra and pack accordingly, you will probably end up needing something like duct tape and bear spray. Some things are out of our control. All you can do is prepare what you can, as per point one, and then aim to face what arises with some manner of grace and pragmatism. Washing groceries before use, not leaving our suburb, homeschooling while both negotiating working from home – I didn’t pick that to be a big part of April and onwards, but with each new thing, it was ok that it was. I don’t think this mindset is unique to runners but it may be more developed.

3. Running can happen anywhere, with no other people required

I was going to say ‘almost’ anywhere, but did you see the guy running around his living room in the huge virtual Last Person Standing event? Running is supremely flexible. Footballers couldn’t play and swimmers couldn’t swim, but even if it was around a house or on a treadmill, runners could run. Or accept that lockdown was a great time to finally do those core strength exercises, but runners are runners, so…

4. He waka eke noa

This popular whakatauki means ‘a boat we are all in together’. One of the joys of ultras is the joyous camaraderie and ‘LOL, how much does this totally suck?!’ unity between entrants as things get rough. I haven’t posted a report here about last year’s World 24-Hour Championships yet – in summary, it got rough – but one of my favourite memories was walking around with the US’s distance legend Gina Slaby chatting about groundhogs and nausea, among lots of other great conversations. Nobody signed up for a pandemic, but we are all in it together, creating a unique connection.

Team NZ at 24 Hour World Champs in Albi. Image by Emma McDowall.

5. You know the worst too will pass

Maybe you’ve done all the preparation and pacing right, courageously faced new challenges, accessed all the gratitude you can muster, and STILL reach a point where you need to collapse under a table and cry (and maybe vomit). Speaking from experience, that’s absolutely fine too.

And this is perhaps what Fiona was touching on – most ultrarunners have experienced some pretty weird lows that they didn’t bargain for, and come out the other side with a story. It’s just one race, or one point in time. Feel the feelings, and tomorrow is another day. Although maybe one with DOMS and chafing.


One of my answers on the ‘why’ of ultras is that choosing to do hard things helps prepare for the hard things you don’t choose. Covid is piling these hard things on for some right now. Ultimately, events of this scale can’t be compared to the niche masochism of a voluntary long run, but we can still hope that the skills gained help a little along the way.




My first 24 hour track race: 2017 Sri Chinmoy Self-Transcendence Run

What will it feel like?

Many people can’t understand why runners would choose to run in circles on a 400m track for 24 hours. It’s a valid question – the extension of choosing to run in 2k circles over 100k. For me it was as simple as the above: I wanted to experience the highs and lows of continuing moving forward through the night. Distance, titles and transcendence would be a bonus.

I suspected I hadn’t done enough preparation – no excuses, just the way it panned out with life at the time. At the same time, I felt healthy enough, and got through a couple of long slow test runs adequately. Not wanting this to be yet another year I didn’t get round to trying a 24, I put in the entry. And then did a bunch of stilt-walking to pay for it, but I don’t think Strava counted that as training.

Going to National Road Relays with Hawks a week out from the event was great fun, and a nice distraction. I figured if the standard ultra takes 3 days carb-loading, a 24 could take a week’s worth, so made sure I started that nice and early too. I also spent a lot of time figuring out the best way to make a music playlist (first month of Spotify Premium free? Yes please), what songs to have on it (lots), and the optimum way to carry my phone with me (thanks, Trek’n’Travel).


Lance kindly offered a couch for the Friday night, so I zoomed up to Auckland after work. I couldn’t have asked for a better host, as Lance is a pro at these events, and spotted exactly which things I was clueless about. We raided Geoff’s water bottle stocks (cheers Geoff), and sieved lots of white powder. Lance gave me some of his ginger beer stash. Good to go!

Following Lance in the morning made directions to Millenium Stadium nice and easy. We set up the table and tent, and met Twiss (below, centre), who was crewing for Lance and adopted me too. It was a relief to eventually get to the startline. All photos by the Sri Chinmoy team!


Here goes nothing!


The Sri Chinmoy team introduced all the competitors in the 24 hour, 12 hour, 6 hour and relay races, and then we were off. Sprint! (Just kidding.)

The first few hours were relaxed, and busy – people were very gracious, but there was a lot of slaloming around each other with so many on the track. The first change of direction came at 4 hours, and added a bit of excitement. It was nice to seeing Wayne Botha whizzing by periodically in his fast-cadenced bare feet, and catch up with current NZ 100k women’s champ Katrin Gottschalk (both in the 12 hour). It’s interesting how everyone has different strategies and speeds. Andrew stuck to his run-4-walk-1 approach without fail, and it appeared to go great guns.


We had timing bracelets and personal lap counters, who were always encouraging, I worked out that mine eventually said ‘Go Dawn’ or ‘Got you, Dawn’ approximately 500 times over the full event. Phew. That would take some focus.


My aim was to feel good at 6 hours and ok at 12. I enjoyed most of the day, especially jogging round in a train with Katrin and Susan Marshall, recent winner of the Sri Chinmoy 6-Day race in New York. Susan ran an amazing 656km there! We were both doing our first 24-hour race, but for her, it’s on the short side.


I went through 100km in about 9.30, which was probably a tad fast. I’d planned for 6-min ks, but a tiny bit too quick per lap adds up. Nutrition was Tailwind and water and Vfuel gels, with some sushi and ginger and chippies, which all worked fine until it didn’t.


Come 12 hours, a bunch of people stopped and had their part-laps recorded – Katrin won the race outright despite not feeling in top form that day. Bryan McCorkindale, always a class athlete, achieved an age group record here I think, before carrying on. The 12 hour would make a great taste of this type of running, as you get to enjoy the day and a bit of the night – and then go home! It started raining around the 10 hour mark, and didn’t really stop.


It was great to see the mighty Mgcini turn up in the evening, fresh from pacing at Tauranga Marathon. Every lap he’d be sitting out by the table in the rain with a smile. I’d make random food requests and then change my mind the next lap. Good times.


I apparently went through the 100 miles (160k) in about 16.40, and suspect it was actually a little before there that some wheels fell off, in a matter of 4 short laps or so. My right quad decided this was all a stupid idea and ceased lifting my leg up off the ground, quite a key motion in running; and my stomach got very unhappy. Consequently, I was reduced to a striding walk for the rest of the race. This was disappointing, as I’d started to get my hopes up for bigger distances, but I remember regrouping mentally and working out that walking 5k per hour for 8 hours should still get me over the 200 mark, and the primary aim was simply to keep moving forward and experience the night.

So I kept moving forward, as it rained on and on, sweeping in billowy clouds across the stadium lights and puddling deep in each track bend. I’d heard this 1am – 5am stretch was the hardest part of the race, and so it proved to be. Looking at the photos brought it back – it was never one agonising moment of struggle, just an ongoing challenge amid cold, fatigue and tedium.


My music was a great help, and kept me going for a good 3-4 hours. I also thought a lot about the special people who left us too soon this past year and what it might mean to make the most of your own life, even the crazy whims that involve walking in circles. Sometimes there was something oddly beautiful and peaceful about the monotony too.

Unfortunately I was having trouble staying warm while walking, even with two thermals and a waterproof jacket. Mgcini had sensibly suggested I take off the wet singlet first before putting on the other gear, but I was all ‘nah, can’t be bothered, look, a fairy!’

Gotta love it when you run too long even for the clock to handle..


Toilet breaks seemed to be happening way too often, and the whole sitting down motion had ceased to be fun hours ago. Funnily enough, although we were only 9k apart at the end, I never really ran with Slavomir Lindvai, the winning man – he was always going faster or slower. Just near the end we walked half a lap together and he said, well done, you are winner?, and I said nah, I don’t think so (ooh look, a fairy!), and he offered me Slovenian beer. In retrospect, this might have been a better bet for the stomach than coffee. Slavomir is a very strong athlete who’s reportedly run in the 240k region for this event previously.

Eventually the sky started to lighten – Tracy Benjamin made an obligatory ‘dawn’ joke! – and the end was kind of, sort, in sight (3 hours feels interminable by the end). Tracy launched into some tough love every time I went past which was great. I didn’t really know or care what distance I’d done (the lap updates only go up occasionally and I was cold) but she didn’t let me slack off: ‘You know you want the 200! Keep pushing it harder, and not just when you’re going past me!’

So I did, and made it in time for a few bonus laps (hoorah!). Below is me heading out on the final lap – I’m holding a personalised block to put down when the hooter goes.


Although it was the longest race I’ve ever done, it wasn’t an equally intense experience to finish it. I was pleased and relieved, but the emotion was dulled by queasiness and cold. Twiss, bless her, went from not knowing me the day before to stripping me off and getting me through a shower. The chafing was truly epic. It could have won a chafe contest. There was a perfect chafe-bra, complete with all the chafe-seams. (Ultras are so glam.)

285 undies

At prizegiving, Andrew and I felt gradually sicker and sicker. I kind of love how this photo captures the moment. We’re each about to make a mid-speeches vomit dash (ultras are so glam).


Ah, this one’s a bit more perky. I was really happy to follow in a long line of awesome runners and get the Sandy Barwick trophy for a while. Huge kudos to my fellow 24-hour runners too, especially Bryan (below) and Lance, who really are world class at this.


Things to improve:

  • Eating. I don’t think there’s a magic answer, but I’d at least bring more savoury options and protein.
  • Pacing. It wasn’t terrible, but pulling back a bit more and possibly adding walk breaks could be a plan.
  • Chafe-avoidance. The ye-ow level of chafing was probably due to the wet-wet-wet level of rain, and I don’t know exactly how to fix that, but it’ll be something to work on.
  • Put some warm things on much earlier if required. Take off the wet ones.
  • Train some more

Things that went well!

  • No major injuries, not even Achilles issues (that’s pretty unusual)
  • Mind-set and focus was calm and positive almost the whole way, even with the disappointment of going to a walk
  • Shoes – the flexible Altra Escalantes were really comfy during 90% of the race, and I’d use them again. I did have sore blisters afterwards, but suspect this was always going to be hard to avoid in the rain.

In conclusion, I’m really happy I did the event. The organisers and other participants were great. Huge thanks to Twiss, Mgcini and Andrew for taking care of me along the way – hope to return the favour sometime.

I initially felt slightly ripped off that there was no euphoric transcendent moment, before coming to the conclusion that the keeping going was itself the transcendence. Would I do it again? Yes.

Splits to analyse >>

Official report >>

Full gallery of photos through the day >>

286 snooze

Aftermath summary: The next day I couldn’t move much (quietest birthday ever), and it took 24 hours after finishing before I could face food again. I didn’t really lose any weight though (bodies are odd). It took a good 8 days before I felt I could jog, and I’m giving it a few more for good measure.

284 want computer

PS – A bonus of this type of run is inspiring your offspring with your feats of perseverance. Or not.




5 tips for running Tarawera Ultramarathon

Tarawera Ultramarathon is nearly here! I’m down to share tips at a Hawks get-together, and when I wrote them down as notes they turned into pictures. They didn’t turn into colour pictures though, because my child has apparently eaten all my good waterproof pens. Enjoy.


1. Appreciate the moment – frequently. The start of an ultra is MAD, in a fantastic way, but take a minute to yourself in the dark and think about why you’re here. Think of the 5.30am starts to fit in training before work, and the ridiculously long runs you really weren’t in the mood for and the adventures with friends that have all prepared you for this day. Appreciate the victory of making the start-line, of having courageous and exciting life goals, of having a body that can do this. And then, don’t dwell on what has passed away, or what is yet to be. Just run, and revel in it.

This goes for later on as well. You might be grumpy, and have sore legs, and low blood sugar, but you’re still in one of the most beautiful places in the world and have limbs with the grace to perambulate you in a forward direction. Injured runners who couldn’t make the startline are insanely envious and might slap you for whinging.

2014 was easily my most enjoyable Tarawera to date, because I was relaxed from the start and had no expectations. I recommend it.

2. Take it easy.

take it easy

That follows on from being relaxed and is kind of a no-brainer, but START SLOW. Have fun. Breathe, talk, make faces at the cameras. Even if you’re doing 60k rather than 100k, you should definitely be feeling full of beans at Okareka. It’s much too easy to pick up the pace imperceptibly along those straights between the water tank and Blue Lake and later regret it. Don’t do that.

3. If it’s sore, sort it out


Last year I had a niggly timing chip that eventually gouged its way into my ankle. I still have the scars from this because I couldn’t be bothered stopping to figure it out. If the race had been 100k, it could have been interrupted by this, so it’s worth taping a blister or removing the stone, or having the foresight to buy something like this.

4. Keep the core temp down.


My hero for keeping cool in heat is US ultrarunner Pam Smith, who goes to the extent of ice in the knickers. Whatever you have available to you, make the most of it. A cup of water over the head at an aid station, a quick dip in the river or stashing some frozen drink in a drop bag? Worth a go. I was tipping water over myself even during last year’s cyclone.

 5. Removal of friction


One more tip (just to keep it classy) – grease yourself up like a Turkish oil wrestler. I like Bodyglide, but anything of that ilk will do. It’s a long way. Things rub. Chuck a little bit of your preferred lubrication into your pack if you can. Unpredictable things will happen, but hopefully chafing won’t be one of them.

Enjoy the run.

I won’t be running 100k at Tarawera – long boring story of uncooperative health – but am excited to be running the first leg for a Hawks team, and cheering everyone on. See you there!


Blast from the past: Paris Marathon 2010

I wrote this four years back to pitch it as a travel article to a newspaper but never got around to it. Enjoy! Pre-child Europe jaunt.

Pee for Paree

Pee for Paree

People travel to foreign big city marathons for the buzz, the energy, the new experiences. The awe-inspiring amount of public urination before the 2010 Paris Marathon presumably falls into the latter category. Truly, I have never before seen so many men peeing. With these ritualistic tribes lining the streets, any polite aversion of eyes is pleasantly irrelevant.

Five months ago, entering Paris MoiMarathon to coincide with a planned Europe trip was an excellent idea. Since then, ultramarathon fatigue and recent injury (thwarting all training) suggest otherwise. However, we are here at ‘le departe’, with Nurofen, adrenaline and joie de vivre. Don’t try this at home. With 1 portaloo per 3000 runners, I’m glad today is not a nervous day.

The gun fires, probably – I can’t move or hear. A roar of glee sweeps back towards the Arc du Triomphe and the 40,000 strong crowd surges down Champs Elysees, euphoric (while maintaining impeccable pace judgement, of course). The early kilometres are a combination of marvelling at the surroundings and very careful placement of feet amid the mob. Someone falls. The first drink station is on one side only, causing a dangerous swerve to the side. But we trot along, buoyed by the constant support and the stunning beauty that is Paris.

DeparteMore than 80% of Paris Marathon entrants this year are male. With us femmes being generally sparse, the novelty prompts enthused cheering throughout. ‘Allez la femme!’ I hear repeatedly. Go girl! Encore la fille!

‘Vous êtes passés par une femme!’ calls a marshall teasingly to a man behind me. ‘Chicachicachica!’

At 11k, we hit the lovely Bois du Vincennes, and my injured leg throws in a protest. Merde. Limping with 31k to go is a bad sign. But after a kilometre or so of grimacing and muttering, it eases. Whether errant Nurofen or guardian running angel, I’m grateful.



A splendid variety of entertainment, or ‘animations’, lines the route, if runners need distraction. Running plus animation – two of my favourite things! We have ‘Chariots of Fire’ by bagpipe. Bizarre cheerleaders. Pink Floyd courtesy of a young cover band, with the Chateau du Vincennes in the background, and this juxtaposition is strangely poignant. But then many things have me moved, particularly the man running resolutely carrying a big Polish flag and the orange-clad teams pulling and pushing disabled runners in carts.

Better chocolate absorption? I'm in!

Better chocolate absorption? I’m in!

Running into the Bastille at the most popular support point, we hit a wall of sound. It’s tremendous. Above us is a winged statue with one leg outstretched. I wonder if it’s Mercury, as beloved of NZ’s own Lorraine Moller, and take heart from the fact. It turns out to be Winged Hope, which is also appropriate. Maybe I can make it after all. The carnage is beginning, though. Grimaces and limps abound, and a river of walkers widens as we pass the Eiffel Tower and stream through tunnels beside the Seine. One of these was where Princess Di died.

Next we conquer the rolling hills into Bois de Boulogne.

‘Seulement six kilometres, c’est facile!’ calls a cheery young thing. Easy? Pardon? Ce n’est pas facile! Has she tried this?

Sad decor, sad legs..

Sad decor, sad legs..

With 5k to go, a drinks table offers red wine and I down one on principle. At the next one, I revert to sports drink, or as it turns out, champagne. C’est la vie! Upon rounding a corner a man in elaborate national dress stands in the middle of the road. He’s slightly in the way and…holding a camel. Of course. Perhaps the wine is kicking in.

‘Bravo la femme, allez, allez!’ rings out one last time from a shriek behind me, and I dutifully sprint to l’arrive, to be enveloped by great relief.

Support crew

Support crew

In an hour, I will be hobbling painfully across the road among screaming vehicles, and cursing the prolific and steep metro stairs. I then learn that pedestrians are supposed to hobble under L’Arc du Triomphe, rather than dice with death. Tomorrow, an opportunistic cold dives gleefully on my fatigued immune system and I discover the limping and snuffling combination is seriously un-chic. In two days, we will miss our flight back to Heathrow, just pre-empting the expulsion of errant volcanic ash which would have made a much better excuse than vaguely miscalculating the distance to Charles de Gaulle because we were busy stuffing our faces in a boulangerie.

But for now, I appreciate the emotion of the man crying beside me as we stop, and breathe. We have run the Paris Marathon and life is good.

From the couch

Me and my germs listening to Talk Ultra in the lounge at 3am. Wild!

Me and my germs listening to Talk Ultra in the lounge at 3am. Wild!

I’m at home, by myself, on a beautiful day, with gifted garlic soup heating up in the kitchen. Life is grand. The only blight is the cold sitting like a small elephant on my nose. For the last few months my colleagues and friends have fallen like flies with loathsome lurgies but I’d become complacent. Seems like I don’t get sick. Must be all that healthy running. Then Wednesday’s run felt unusually flat, and it went downhill from there.

The silver lining is that I get to lie in the lounge and type delirious ramblings on to the internet. It’s been a little quiet blog-wise lately, mainly because I took some down time after Ultra-Trail Des Cagous (had a blast and the race report is up at Backcountry Runner, if you missed it). Recovery actually happened fast thanks to the relatively slow pace and soft surface – although 4 or 5 toenails are still MIA. But I then embraced laziness for its own sake, and sleep-ins and weight gain aren’t terribly exciting to read about. (On the latter: I don’t think my innovative high fat, high carb diet has a big future, but you’ve got to test these things.) kaimai_run

I don’t have specific races planned yet and reluctantly restrained myself from the Kepler entry fray due to logistics/budget. But I’m enjoying regular expeditions again. A couple of weeks ago, Ange and I abandoned our offspring and tested out a Kaimai route she’d wondered about – up on to the ridge, along the North-South track and down Thompson’s track.

Well, it got a big tick for adventure, and a minor cross for being less runnable than predicted. The ascent was fine, gravelly and day13straightforward. We paused at the top enjoying the view and the peace. Some nearby mystery hunters seemed to like it too. Turning right across the ridge, we hit some rugged overgrown terrain. With the per-kilometre pace sitting around 30 minutes, you’d probably call it a tramp not a run. Cold too, despite the fine day. The bush had that feeling that nothing ever really dries out.

Mums on the run! Found a little waterfall.

Mums on the run! There’s a waterfall behind us, promise.

Checking out the view - one of the benefits of running along a ridge.

Checking out the view – one of the benefits of running along a ridge.

Ange takes on a fun rocky part

Ange takes on a fun rocky part

Ladders, even

Ladders, even!

Rather nice..

Rather nice..

We found a good old-school hut, and wrote in the book. It was a little tricky finding the way back down again once we came out of the North-South track up top, but we got there eventually. Slip detouring added some extra road, so we were more than happy to get back to the car, clocking a mere 5 hours of adventure in total. Lots of fun. More please!

UTDC – the preamble (AKA ‘TMI’)

SAMSUNG‘You’ve run wearing a rectal thermometer before, right?’ asked Lillian, as she prepared the heat chamber. I laughed. Ho, ho, what witty banter! Ha ha ha. Ha..?

Yeah, it seemed she wasn’t joking. I figured doing the Ultra-Trail Des Cagous in New Caledonia would make for some interesting new experiences, but hadn’t expected them to kick in before leaving Hamilton.

Without a whole lot of training time after recovering from the 100k champs, I’d decided just to play with hills and warmth for two weeks, and Wintec’s School of Sport and Exercise had kindly agreed to assist with the latter. Cue the delights of a couple of sessions of monitored heat/humidity training. Many thanks to Lillian, Adrian and co for this opportunity. The aforementioned thermometer was actually no problem in practice but made for good war stories nonetheless. And Hadley gets coach points +1000 for taping the wire on to my back when required. It was interesting to see how quickly I got dumber over a mere 45 minutes of runnning in the heat – 80k could plumb new depths of dopey.

I also tried some Bikram hot yoga for the first time, which was intense but masochistically enjoyable by the third session. If only it was a tad cheaper. Also, the logistics started to look a bit like this, and that’s before adding in any child factors. I would like to do more though.


Hills were fun. Hills are always good. Oscar in his awesomeness accompanied me on some early morning Fanny Hill efforts, and I got over to Te Aroha with Ange, and Karangahake. Then it was pretty much taper time – again.

It feels like I haven’t ‘trained’ since pre-Tarawera in terms of proper mileage, but I hoped muscle memory would do the trick for my New Cal adventure. Spoiler – it pretty much did. Watch this space for an inordinately long writeup of a most excellent experience..

Trig with a view

Trig with a view

Trig with no view

Trig with no view

What’s next: deuxième partie

It turns out my comment about not entering any ultras for at least two months after the NZ 100k champs was a complete lie. Sorry, limbs. Encore une fois? (Wow, sudden late ’90s dance music flashback.)

For anyone who missed it, my 100k race report is over at Backcountry Runner. Short version: it went well, despite an overenthusiastic start. I ran 2k 50 times and got a PB and a cup. Also a drink bottle with a fabric handle, which Alba declared the best prize of all.

Since then, I’ve been a bit droopy and done not much. The hundy smashed my quads and energy reserves a lot more than Tarawera, maybe due to the surface, the speed and the extra 30k. I keep getting cajoling emails from the High50 Vertical Challenge who can’t comprehend my slackness, saying they see that I haven’t updated my Vertical Challenge log for some time now and what am I, some kind of crybaby flatlander wimp? The body’s creeping back into action though. I’m going to be a pacer for the first time at Huntly Half on Sunday and am more nervous about that than I would be taking part (responsibility!)

Also, I have been invited to an international race, which happens in three weeks. I’m quite excited about this.

woohooThe event is the Ultra-Trail Des Cagous in New Caledonia on June 7th –a pedestrian running of lowmountain range in semi autonomy organized by Nouvelle-Caledonie Aventure’. Take a moment and read Ruby’s report of the 53k version from last year, which she carved up as per usual despite running 7k extra and basically having to ski. This year Ruby is preparing to smash UTMB instead, sensibly forgoing the UTDC jaunt. Thus, I get to carry the torch, with trepidation and gratitude. It looks fairly epic. Jungle running in a new country!

I'm used to being a tortoise, not a lièvre

I’m used to being a tortoise, not a lièvre

Aspects of the description are slightly unnerving:

‘Every competitor can be submitted to a dope test, hanging and upon the arrival of the event.’ I’m fine with a drug test, but not sure about the hanging.. 

Anyway, it should be a grand adventure. I have an excuse to scatter arbitrary school French phrases around with abandon. There’s no time to train as such, so I’ll be going directly from recovery into taper. The level of elevation gain is new. I’m not going in completely green though – I did Cambridge Cross Country on Saturday, which had 4 metres, so it’s only another 3646 than that.

Deluded? Never! I’m off to the doctor today to be certified of sound body and mind. Wish me bonne chance.

What’s next?

“What’s next for you?”, asked everyone after Tarawera.

5k at Parkrun. After doing 74, 5k is fun but lung-busting.

5k at Parkrun. After doing 74, 5k is fun but lung-busting.

Aside from the glib responses (Sleep! Food! Basking in goal-completion-mode before stressing about something else!), I didn’t know at the time. With characteristic vagueness – let’s call it clarity of focus – I just didn’t want to look past Tarawera beforehand. So that all went fine, but the upshot was three weeks of umming and ahing. TNF Australia 100k? Hillary? Rotorua Marathon? T42? NZ 100km championships? All good contenders for different reasons. TNF would be brilliant but I’d like to plan ahead for it. The Hillary I would have loved to try and almost did but couldn’t quite swing the childcare/time away from home. Rotorua? There’s a certain pace-pressure in a road marathon which didn’t quite gel for me (one day though). T42 was a very strong possibility, being close to home with cool people at it, and a nice surface to run on. But for some reason the 100k champs got a little hook in my mind that wouldn’t let go. So the answer is, Christchurch on April 27th, for 50 x 2k laps of Hagley Park. That looks something like this:


See? No problem.

As you can see, I’m working on the optimism. I’m not entirely sure why that was the choice, given my persistently stubborn achilles and the fact that I basically love trail running, but the format intrigues me. Also, there’s always been a reason I can’t do the champs for the last three years, but this year I feel like seizing the chance to try it out. It’ll be a different kind of adventure.

Screen shot 2014-04-22 at 11.31.01 AMNote to self: signing up for Mal’s Vertical Challenge while tapering, in Hamilton, for a flat ultramarathon, is not going to cover you in glory. Oh well, it’s for a good cause. Better start saving now. There’s still plenty of time to come and join me in my barely-undulating shame.

But what shall I wear?

Contrary to many, I find trail much more forgiving than road in a shoe sense. I can wear anything on the average trail, ideally Spyridon FiveFingers. Extended road, however, is a bit of an unknown. Champs like Wayne Botha can do the barefoot/minimal long distance thing on a hard surface, but I’m not confident enough at this point.

Over the last few weeks I’ve tried out every pair of shoes I own on a long run to see if anything comes up tops but nothing really helped. (Anyone would think it’s the tendons themselves that are the problem.) So the approach will be: take 5 pairs of shoes to ChCh for potential swapping, and rely on optimism/ adrenaline. Wish me luck.


Trying out a long road run

Lap dancing

As far as preparing the brain, I’ve been doing a few lap-tastic runs. Lake Ngaroto is a classic one to do three weeks out, and that session went pretty well. It was a slight cop-out in terms of surface though, being mainly quite soft.

I also headed to Ruakura for the good old club champs loop which went well until the achilles hurt, but was still sobering in that I’d be doing another 9 10ks.

Angry bird

Angry bird

Taitua Arboretum makes a pleasant set of laps, complete with toilets and water, and many chickens. (Why did the chicken cross the path? Because he apparently didn’t see the runner hobbling powering towards him. Sorry chicken).

Graham Dudfield’s speed sessions with the Hawks have started again, which I love. There’s a big mob of great people and the endorphins are a buzz, completely different to what you get running for several hours. Last Tuesday we ran reps of 500m around the lake and swallowed midges as the moon got eaten by the eclipse.

Five more sleeps till the hundred though, so for now it’s just low-key running. Time for resting, massages and optimism. Down time is on the cards after this one, whatever happens, with the aim of being all gung-ho and ‘BRING IT ON’ and uninjured next time an event happens. I’m still looking forward to it though. So that’s what’s next.