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Mentors Country Estate parkrun

Date: 7 March 2026
Distance: 5km
Time: 37min

During the flight from OR Tambo to Hong Kong with my mother’s ashes in the overhead locker, I reflected on our three week trip to the motherland. It was tough.

My mother passed away on 3 October last year at the age of 87. For the past 16 years she lived in a house we owned. Being so far away it was the best we could do to try and help her. Fortunately I still have an older brother and sister who could be more hands-on with the day-to-day needs. Providing her with a place to stay may well be a subconscious way to ease the guilt of us moving so far away.

The past number of years she became increasingly frail. On and off she stayed with my brother 700km away, and the past more than a year, she was with him all the time. 

Even though our house stood empty for the best part of two years, nothing happened; no squatters, no burglaries, no vandalism. We all needed some time to process the death of our mother, so thought we can just carry on with business as usual until July when we planned to go over and start sorting out her things. Unfortunately this all changed on Christmas eve when all the outside copper pipes were stolen from the house. This was followed by another event where the copper wire leading to, and inside my mum’s pottery kiln was severely damaged and stolen. The other issue was that my brother was still paying the rates&taxes on the property (to keep the power on for the alarm to work), which was really just a waste of money. We had to do something urgently.

We quickly made travel arrangements and by mid-February we were on our way, this time flying via Hong Kong. The quickest route, and the one we’ve taken the past five or six times, is through Australia. But we’ve never had much joy with Qantas, and the last time was a nightmare to put it mildly. Every trip without fail, our luggage stayed behind in Australia (the connecting flight allows too short a turnover time), the food deteriorated with each trip, and arriving back in Wellington at 1am is just plain nasty. On top of it all, the shuttle bus to long-term parking in Wellington didn’t run during the night, and we had to walk the 2km in the middle of the night. Luckily that changed a few years ago.

This time after four flights we arrived tired, but without any serious issues, and immediately set to work. With the help of my brother we spent the first week chasing copper pipes into the bricks and mortar. Gerry did most tof the hammering, my brother the copper pipe soldering, and I finished off plastering and filling up gaps. After four days, we had water in the house again, and could start with the clean up.

In short, we had to go through and clear out all my mum’s things. Eighty-seven years worth of belongings which she meticulously saved and looked after. I was keen on some fabric and yarn to use in an upcoming exhibition about the circle of life and death, but couldn’t take much as we only had two suitcases with a limit of 23kg each. The one thing mum said I could have was two 1930s rocking chairs, but short of paying a fortune to get it to New Zealand, I had to let it go.

Most of her things ended up donated to charity, a handful of things were sold, and the rest went to recycling and the rubbish dump. Such a sad and terrible thing to have to do. I discovered mum’s wedding album, grandma’s birth and death certificates, granddad’s identity document, and the list goes on. Just sad.

With no good reason to keep the house any longer, we were also keen to try and sell the property. I fashioned a hand made ‘for sale’ sign which we stuck on the gate. In case. Agents came around, potential buyers started walking through while the place was in shambles. Stuff everywhere, tools, cement, paint, coupled with a house that wasn’t lived in for more than a year, it looked terrible. One of the people popping in to look around, brought his wife a couple of days later to have a look, and another few days on they brought their daughter. The place needed a lot of work, the garden was in shambles, but it was still a decent sized plot, with two separate dwellings; one the main house, and the other a studio. It has a lot of potential. But beggars can’t be choosers, and we had to let it go for far less than what we might have been able to sell it for if we had the time to get things in better order. But time was a luxury we didn’t have, nor the money and ended up just being relieved to have a buyer.

The end of an era. A heartbreaking experience.

Before we left from NZ I had grand plans to go for walks on the beach with my sister and brother, but the only thing we did was work. From sun up to late every day, work. Luckily my brother could get leave, and with my sister on pension, we spent the evenings together. During the days we worked together.

Our last Saturday morning in SA we decided to treat ourselves to a quick parkrun. I didn’t have running clothes so thought I’d just walk. Working with dusty and old documents meant that hay fever was a constant struggle for me and I ended up taking far more antihistamines than I would have liked, which didn’t help my cause. Getting some fresh air was much needed, and to celebrate the ‘offer to purchase’ that was signed the day before, we went for it.

During the night the wind picked up. It was blowing a gale and the noise from the trees and corrugated iron rattling meant I was awake a lot of the time. We got up, had red bush tea and a pear before driving to Mentors Country Estate about five minutes away. It was still windy, but not as strong as during the night. Also, it started to rain, and there was a nip in the air. Not ideal conditions for a first outing since before Christmas.

Mentors is a large, privately owned wedding and accommodation facility located on the side of town near Jeffreys Bay, with the windfarm next door.

We arrived shortly before the start, and standing in the cold wind and spits of rain, I was contemplating our ‘bad’ luck with the weather. Apart from running shoes I didn’t really have appropriate clothes to wear for a run, so donned the nearest thing that is not a pair of jeans. Since the weather wasn’t ideal and looked even worse on the horizon, we decided to start with a jog in the hope of warming up a bit, and getting it done quicker. My baggy hippie-type pants turned into a sail catching a lot of wind. In the right direction, it could have counted in my favour, but it felt like nothing other than a handicap.

The idea was to jog slowly until I couldn’t anymore and then just walk to the end. But leg-memory seems to be a thing. We ran at a seven-plus minute per kilometre pace which turned out to be attainable, and I could keep going until the end.

The course is a short lollipop with two laps of the round section, off-road in a nature reserve. Lots of volunteers were on the course encouraging runners and walkers. Having a double lap of the one section meant they had a short course (3km?) as well as the full parkrun 5km distance. We were 99 runners and walkers, and being a flattish course and a loop, meant we could almost see everyone out there. In the distance we also saw some Blesbok and ostriches.

At the finish, coffee and snacks could be bought from the gorgeous stone and thatch roof venue. Water with lemon and mint were provided and the sheltered area meant a lot of participants were just relaxing and catching up. We bought a coffee and sat on the porch with a beautiful view over the farm thinking about life, death, running, and survival. A nagging concern that our upcoming flights might be cancelled (due to war and ultimately greed) and that we might not be able to get home, were thoughts I was trying to avoid.

Afterwards we went back to the grindstone to finish off the remaining things that had to be done before flying back super early the next day.

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Branch Road and more

Date: 9 November
Distance: 7km
Time: 1:07

It took me a long while to post this. Perhaps because it marked the ‘last straw’ in terms of my fitness levels, or lack thereof – I had to admit to myself that things were not progressing as I had hoped. This was very demoralising. The struggle, for whatever reason, is very real. However, by now it has also started to become a mental thing – if you think you can’t, you can’t. I still believe things will look up sooner or later. But I digress.

A number of years ago when Gerry and I were still organising running events (before COVID left us with no other option than going back to full time employment), we were always on the lookout for new places to host events that could include a wider community. One of the options was venturing into the Pohangina Valley. We scouted a few places in the area, and also walked up Branch Road, a paper road, which looked like it might be a good candidate. However, after walking up the track we didn’t deem it suitable. From memory I think there was a slip, or something looked a bit unsafe, or some or other issue I can’t recall right now. Being a narrow path and a long drive to get there might also have had something to do with it.

In 2022 I started working as a trapper in the Southern Ruahine, and my then boss once stopped at the top of this track, and told me that a local lady organises a walk down Branch Road every year. At the time I did not bring our walk from the bottom up and the start at the top together to realise it was the same track. From the bottom it looked like we were walking on private land, and it felt awkward, like we were intruding, so we never made it all the way up the hill. From the top it looked wild and unkempt, but somehow still inviting, like a good place to go on training runs. But we also never got around to walk/run up or down Branch Road by ourselves or as part of the organised event in 2022 or 2023.

In 2024, when the event was on again, friends couldn’t make it anymore, so they gave us their entries. We arrived bright and early, signed in, and got some sweets and water from the car to take with. Two buses took all of us up the windy road to the start of the track (driving past the home of my ex boss). Most people were walking the event, but we were rushed for time, so decided to run down. Looking at the time it took, including a pee stop, photo taking, looking at the scenery, and trying to be sure we stayed on the trail, we may as well have walked. Although we did arrive first, it wasn’t very long before the first walkers showed up.

The first 1.1 kilometres were run on a new forestry road. What was still an overgrown path a couple of years ago, was now a decent logging road. We encountered a marshal at this point who was still busy putting up signage. We passed him shortly before hitting the ‘single track’. This stretch was quite overgrown with tall grass. With all the rain of late coupled with some warmer days, the grass is out of control at our place. It was the same for this track.

Some permanent sign boards made it reasonably obvious where to go and one shouldn’t get lost, but occasionally we did question which was the right way. We passed some slips and some muddy sections, but overall it was an enjoyable outing. I can absolutely see the locals supporting this year after year.

But …

Shortly after, I got sick again. Almost to the day I had COVID last year. It made me wonder if someone on the bus might have been sick, but of course I could have picked it up anywhere. And again, I was sick for quite a long time. More than a month. And somewhere along the line Gerry also got sick. This meant our running stopped, yet again, for more than a month. It feels like I just cannot catch a break.

After some hemming and hawing, doing the maths, over and over, I had to admit to myself that I would not be able to make the Old Ghost distance in the cut-off times by the event date in February. I have no doubt that I could cover the distance at mostly a walking pace, but it might have taken me twenty-four hours. I noticed from previous results that most runners finish in less than 14-15 hours, something I was likely not capable of achieving. We had to forfeit our entries. It is always such a hard decision to make. But it was the right decision.

Fast forward a few months (!), we followed some of the live coverage of the event at the weekend. It looked amazing. I was jealous of everyone’s fitness and capabilities. It feels like I’m never going to get there again. But since we pulled out of the event at the end of last year, and getting over COVID, we started jog-walking again. We also signed up for the Wilderness Walk1200km, which is an initiative by the Wilderness magazine to get people moving. The aim is to cover about 3.3km every day. I guess the rationale is for people to be active for roughly 30 minutes every day. And so far so good. We are on track, perhaps even a bit ahead of where we are meant to be.

On top of the walking, we also try to jog 5km most days, with a slightly longer run on the weekends. That means we cover 9km most days, and initially I could feel that the extra load set me back a bit. But at some point I should get used to doing that distance, and I should start to improve. I’m convinced of it, although the past five months or so proved otherwise.

I’m still hopeful. I’m still hanging in there.

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River-Run Backyard Ultra

Date: 26 October
Distance: 40km (Wouna), 48km (Gerry)
Time: 6 hours/laps (W), 7 hours/laps (G)

Sometimes it feels like we are on a runaway freight train. Life is moving ahead at speed while we are desperately trying to get on board. This whole year has been like that. We took six weeks off at the beginning of the year to visit family, and it honestly feels like we haven’t got back on track the whole year. There is only two months left of this year, and I had grand aspirations and goals of where I wanted to be with my fitness by now, but sadly it has not happened. Add to that challenging weather for months on end, and training becomes a chore. It is no fun trying to run in the cold, strong wind, and or rain.

Nonetheless, we started doing some events again to try and keep us honest (despite being just about last in most of them). In April this year, we decided already that we want to try and do this backyard ultra. The concept has been around for a few years, created by Gary Cantrell (aka Lazarus Lake) who is known for his whacky ideas about running, endurance and challenging the human body and spirit, but we never got around to trying it. In April, the end of October seemed far away, and we made ambitious plans to run at least 80km, hopefully more. Little did we know that life will get super hectic with studies and all, the winter months would be the wettest we’ve had since moving to NZ, and training would be very haphazard. We knew we were in for a wet windy winter and spring, but still thought we might be able to manage some good mileage each week. We have managed before, but we forget to take into account that Gerry works full time since COVID came along, which has taken its toll on what one can fit in and what not. Not to mention how the weather is increasingly more challenging as the years go by. Our property also took a turn for the worse with trees in dire need of pruning, not to mention keeping on top of the grass. And then there is still the everlasting maintenance, as is normal when you have a property with no money to pay someone else to do it for you.

On Friday night we went shopping for some food and drinks for the event. I was keen to take ginger beer along, plus electrolyte drink. Other things we needed to buy were marshmallows, jelly sweets, biltong, baby potatoes, date balls, bananas, and liquorice toffees. We also took gherkins, sesami snaps, oranges from our tree, and coffee we made on the morning. Back home, we threw everything in a cardboard box, got the tent, incase we need to set up closer to the corral (an American word that Laz started using which then became common in NZ and other backyard events too), gathered our water bottles and whatever else we might need, and went to bed. It did not feel like were going to do an event the next morning. We were on autopilot just going through the motions.

It is a terrible situation when you don’t get excited about events anymore. No events excite me. I just do them as it is a bit ‘easier’ than running 20km by yourself, you get to see other places, there is the glimmer of hope that it might spark the running fire again, and it keeps you a bit more accountable. Otherwise I would easily just skip the 20km run.

Arriving early in Waipukurao at the A&P grounds, we signed in, and got our trackers that go around your ankle to record your laps and time. Luckily the organisers used a shed for the corral where we could leave our provisions, to be close-by, stay dry, and be easily accessible between laps. We went back to the car to have breakfast and a coffee, before heading back to the shed. Chatting away, it still hadn’t sunk in that we were about to start an event. Before you know it, time was up. I still needed to make a pee stop, so went to the nearest loo. Someone was inside, taking his time, and there were two ladies in front of me. With three minutes to go, a couple of us still had to use the facility. When it finally got to my turn, there was a minute left, and I was frantically trying too pee, wipe, flush, sanitise, open door, and get back to the corral in time for the start. As the door was shutting behind me, I was still pulling up my pants, while running to the start.

And so I arrived just in time to start on the first lap. Once on the move, I realised I didn’t have my cap, neither did we bother to take some sweets or something to have during the lap as I thought might be a good idea. Luckily it was only the first lap, but it was sunny and already quite warm. In fact the first three laps were very hot, but by the fourth lap the wind picked up a bit and it looked like rain. It got more overcast and coupled with the breeze it wasn’t as hot anymore.

Our strategy was to walk the first kilometre, jog two kilometres, walk one, jog two, and walk the final 700 metres. This worked out fine and we finished the lap with nine minutes to spare. The following two laps we finished with about 5-6 minutes to spare. I was getting sorer and slower as the laps ticked over. I knew it would happen, as we didn’t train nearly enough to even do what we did. I still struggle to run 4km continuously at a 6.5min/km pace. Something feels off, and I am not sure if it is just part of midlife and getting older, delayed COVID symptoms, or what is going on. But I’m not ready to give up on running. Yet. Hopefully never.

The terrain was not too bad. After the start, you make your way through a parking area and up the stop bank. Turning right we followed the stop bank, which is easy underfoot, for a bit more than a kilometre, before a steep drop down the bank led us to a grassy area next to the Tukituki River, to take us back the way we came. This was uneven and just a wee bit like running in paddocks, although this wasn’t nearly as bad. This stretch is about 1.5km before passing near the start/finish which was just on the other side of the stop bank. Being so close to the base means that supporters can walk over the stop bank and cheer on the runners. A couple of hundred metres further we went under the main road bridge (at the 3km mark), up and down the stop bank where we reached curvy bike trails that run next to the river. It is sheltered from the sun and under the trees, following the river on the northern side of the main road bridge until the turn-around point (after about 1.8km) to head back to base. Again we made our way up the stop bank to run along the easy path on top back to finish the first loop.

The loop is thus very narrow and long; running next to the river on uneven ground for half of it, and on top of the stop bank covered with limestone for the other half. Down by the river the gnats were a real pain, especially in the first three laps. I had a few in my eyes and half-swallowed one. Those are the worst, as it feels like they are clawing their way back out of your throat while you are coughing your lungs out, gasping for air, and eyes watering. Once the wind picked up and it became overcast, they disappeared. Up on the stop bank we were showered by the kapok from the silk floss trees. Every now and again I could hear someone sneezing, and I myself had to take two antihistamines to cope. The grass next to the bike tracks were also head high, which didn’t help anyone with hay fever.

Passing or being passed on the single track bike trails was a bit difficult, and as this was also our walking kilometre, it must have been a frustration for others. Despite making way as much as possible, it remains a pain to pass or be passed on a single track.

Back at the base, we poured some ginger beer, diluted with water, filled a ziploc with some sweets, before lining up for lap two. And so it went. Eat, drink and run-walk. People were chatting and poking fun all around the course. At our pace, we saw the same people roughly at the same spots, and had the same group more or less within earshot. This changed, of course, once I started to really fatigue and get slower. The first three laps went fine, but the last three was a struggle. I made it each time with about three minutes to spare, which was okay given that we planned to only do about a marathon. After six laps (just over 40km) I called it quits, but Gerry decided to do another lap (which brought him to a bit over 48km). Although he could have gone on and perhaps do another few laps, it didn’t make much sense anyway. Neither of us are fit or conditioned enough, and there’s no point pushing yourself over the edge for no good reason.

While he was out doing a last lap, I got myself into dry clothes and watched other runners finish. After his last lap, we stayed behind for yet another lap, just soaking in the gorgeous day, and being outside. In an ideal world it would have been great to arrive the night before, set up one’s base, and be ready to go long. I think to be prepared and really part of the event can be very exciting. Sadly, we were just passers-by doing a few laps.

Back home we showered and went to bed early. The next day I wasn’t nearly as sore as after our previous two 40km+ events. Perhaps the more regular running (even though it is only 4km at a time) is making a difference.

It was a long weekend and rumour has it that in NZ the weather improves after Labour Weekend. The common wisdom is to not plant out your tomato plants before Labour Weekend, as cold snaps can still happen. This year, the weather took a turn for the worse, and the weeks following Labour Weekend was still quite cold with temperatures dropping to two degrees celsius at night, and very unsettled (wind and rain most days). The result? Again not much running for us. I can only hope the weather will improve soon, or we can say goodbye to our Old Ghost Ultra entries for February 2025.

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Omakere Coastal Hill Country Run/Walk

Date: 19 October
Distance: 19.2km
Time: 2:58

Getting up before 5am for the trip to Putarere Beach wasn’t easy. It was still dark, and I find it really hard to get out of bed when it’s still dark outside. On the plus side it was a gorgeous day. Any day without wind (and warm – it was reasonable at 10 degrees C at the start) is a perfect day. By the time we left from home before 6am, the colour of the sky had just started to turn. I thought we might have a chance to spot Comet C/2023 A3 once we reached the top of the Pahiatua Track, but of course it was cloudy. New Zealand is not called the land of the long white cloud for no reason.

We arrived bright and early at the farm not long after 8am, signed in, used one of many loos (what a welcome relief), and got our packs at the car for the run. It was a little bit cool, but before we started I could strip down to a T-shirt. Which is unusual for me. The last few days the temperatures have warmed up with hints of summer approaching. Although we still need to get past Labour weekend (26-27 October) before getting too hopeful.

I wasn’t sure what to expect from the run, but the surroundings looked quite hilly. A few minutes after 9am race briefing took place. The whole vibe was very relaxed. None of this ‘start at 9am sharp’ or be sure to make the cut-off at such-and-such a time. It was announced that we were 386 participants of which about 30 were runners. The largest field to date. As far as I know this was the first year the run was introduced. Previously the event was a walk only. We also learned afterwards from one of the locals that the run changes every year as it shifts between the farms in the area.

After race briefing while we were still wondering where the start is, the organiser said that the runners can just start running when they want to. We looked at each other somewhat surprised, and started jogging towards the gate not a hundred percent sure where to go. We knew we had to follow a side-by-side. To the right some way up the farm track, the side-by-side was waiting, and before we reached him a number of the runners had overtaken us. Slowly but surely we were making our way through paddocks and up the hill.

Have I mentioned before how much I dislike paddock running? I had ‘coastal trail’ in mind, and thought that perhaps it would just be the first few kilometres that are on the farm before heading into a trail. Where did I get this notion from? This was not the case. The whole run was through paddocks, on quad-bike paths and the occasional farm road. The terrain underfoot was brutal. Cattle tend to make really big/deep holes in mud, and these have dried out already, after some sunny and warm days. Had it been muddy, it would have been a challenge of a different kind, but it would not have been as demanding on feet, I think. Running on hard-packed hoofmarks is tricky. It wasn’t long before I developed some hotspots, again. What is up with that?

Having said that, we could not have asked for a better day – warm and sunny, and I was so glad we made the trip despite having to start at sparrows fart.

After 6km we reached a high point (240m) with beautiful views over the ocean and the beach below. But the hills didn’t stop there. The next 5km still had a lot of uphills, but also some steep sharp downhills. It is definitely no walk in the park, and I couldn’t run a huge chunk of it.

At the halfway mark (around 10km) after crossing the main road we had driven to the farm earlier, we reached an aid station. This was also the spot where the walkers would get their free lunch to have a lovely picnic under the trees. Our lunches were waiting at the finish line. We filled up our water bottles and grabbed a pear which we shared. Not long after leaving the aid station, on a very steep downhill stretch (getting down to about 75m above sea level), we saw runners scattered in all directions. It would appear that the signage might not have been obvious enough, so runners were going in all directions. Someone ahead of us spotted the arrow (looking back it seemed quite obvious), getting everyone back on track again.

On a gradual downhill of about 5km, we constantly crossed a little stream on the farm. If one was very careful, you could keep your feet dry, and although I did manage that for the most part, I did end up dragging one foot through the water while trying to jump across. Later on I also stepped into mud. After what felt like a million stream crossings, we reached farm buildings (did I spot some ongaonga right next to it?), followed by grassy paddocks. After a gravel road crossing with some festive volunteers, and another climb, we were on our way to the beach.

About a kilometre beach-run took us back onto the main road, leading back to the farm. We were welcomed under a purple tinsel finish line (quite unique) where we were checked off for our safe return. We got our free lunch (a wonderful wrap (gluten free option) or a bun filled with meat, salad greens, beet and relish, a slice and a small chocolate). We parked ourselves on the grass with Sue and Steve to devour the lunch, saw more participants finishing, and listened to local musicians entertaining the growing crowd. It was delightful that they started their set with an Iris DeMent song (Our Town).

Before heading home we drove around in the area where Gerry took some photos. We have never been out that way, so it was good to make a day of it and explore a little.

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The Awa Adventure Run (inaugural)

Date: 28 September
Distance: 22.6km
Time: 3:50

A new event on the running calendar is always exciting. The website stated that it is run in a mountain bike park, called That Place, and that the elevation is 1130 metres for the longest distance. Which is of course the one we went for. What’s the use of driving 100km if you are only going to run 14km or 7km. The elevation should have been a warning sign, but who is scared of a little hill.

I am tired of making excuses for my ‘bad performance ‘. I’m tired of being slow. I’m tired of feeling like I’m never ever going to be fit again. On the up side, even though I’m not one of the quickest runners around, I still finish what I start. So far.

Admittedly I’m in a bad place running-wise. We battle to get into a proper routine, and every time things start to look like there’s progress, the weather turns super nasty (which is a lot of the time), or life just gets out of hand. It is an endless battle of stop-starts, and I can only hope that things will get better again one day. Running is one of those things that you cannot do haphazardly – routine and consistency is key. And to add injury to insult, I cannot stop eating junk. Coupled with generally just eating too much.

Nevermind. There will be better days again.

As mentioned this run takes place at That Place mountain bike park. It is privately owned, twenty minutes upstream from Whanganui on the Kaiwhaiki Road. We arrived early to find only a handful of other cars. My initial thought was that it would be a very small event. Especially since the school event already took place the previous day.

Walking around in the wet paddock (to register, to use the portaloo) my feet was already wet and we had’t even started yet. A friend swapped his shoes out to keep the pair he would be running with, dry. This made me wonder how muddy or wet the track might be.

It was a beautiful day, and although cool at the start, it quickly warmed up. We lined up for race briefing, and then were sent on our merry way, making our way up the mountain right from the start. But it was not as simple as that. Although we were generally speaking going up, it was on a track that goes up and down and up and down all the way. Fortunately not as bad as is usually the case with bike parks – these ups and downs are decent, not silly little bumps in the road. Once at the top (was it the top?) we passed some ponds, and also started running on forestry roads.

There’s one aid station on the mountain. An aid station that put anything on a lot of other events to shame. It was unmanned, but luckily most participants were polite, closed the containers so that the lids didn’t blow away, and generally didn’t make a mess in/around the food. There were chips/crisps, marshmallows, jelly sweets, and containers with water. Lots of it. You pass this aid station twice. Once before heading down the mountain, and once after getting back up that bugger of a hill. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Shortly after the aid station, a viewpoint over the valley made me think that we were looking down from the Skyline Track, which was obviously not the case as the Skyline Track is further upstream. But the river also formed a near circle with an ‘island’ in the middle.

After some running on undulating gravel roads, we started heading down the mountain on a grassy single track. Being wet made it slippery and no sooner did ‘slipping’ cross my mind, when Gerry landed on his arse. Luckily no damage done, and we could carry on down the steep downhill. These were also too steep to run. Whether going up or down, the incline was challenging to run on. At least for me, in my current state. Others were of course flying down the mountain.

This was also the point at which the camera clapped out. Despite cleaning the lens multiple times, it still looked like it was fogged up. Humidity must have got into the camera somehow.

Once we were finally down the mountain on the river’s level again, we had to make our way back up the steepest and longest hill of any event we’ve ever done. One and a half kilometres of relentless uphill that took me nearly half an hour to complete. Not a single step is level or down, each one is on an incline. My calves were screaming, and my unfit heart and lungs didn’t do any better.

Once back on the mountain, finally, we stocked up at the aid station again before slowly making our way down again where it levels out for the last few kilometres next to the awa. The website gave the elevation gain as 1130 metres, but we measured around 750m. Either way, it is very hilly.

I guess it’s fair to say that a lot of it can be described as undulating, while going uphill and downhill. But to me it was too steep to run. I’m just not in a place where I’m even just a bit comfortable on hills.

Once we were back at the finish (about five metres away!) we were directed in the opposite direction to cover another 1.5km. That was just nasty, but to make the course at least a half marathon, it had to be done. By then I had long given up on running of any kind. In fact about 3km earlier I already gave up the ghost and started to walk. The one part that was totally runnable and flat, was the part I had to walk.

Finally at the almost deserted finish (there were only two others behind us), we got our medals, changed into dry clothes, and made our way back home.

Spring has not been kind to us so far weather wise. It rained heaps and often the wind would blow a gale. But we were very lucky to have had good weather at all three of the events we did in September. Those were just about the only good days of the month.

Now, if only I can get into a routine of sorts and run most days of the week.