Trail running

by

It rained cats and dogs – Jumbo-Holdsworth trail run, Powell Hut volunteers

27-28 January 2023

As we were packing the car for the trip to Holdsworth carpark, it started to drizzle. The weather forecast for the weekend looked horrendous, and I thought the event might be cancelled before we even leave Palmy.

Ross and Kati decided to join us for the trip to Powell Hut, and we arranged to meet at the carpark. Our plan was to leave at about 12pm, meet them at 13:30, and walk the three odd hours to the hut.

The drizzle persisted on the drive there and as we started walking it just got worse. There was no wind and things started off reasonably hot, despite the drizzle. My sweat did not evaporate and after a few kilometres of walking uphill, I was soaking wet, both from being rained on and sweat. By the time we reached the Mountain House Shelter, we had to don rain jackets. The higher up we went, the thicker the mist (clag), and the bigger the raindrops.

As always, I’m surprised at how steep the last couple of kilometres are to the hut. After about 3:20 hours we reached the hut, wet and chilled. We went for one of bigger rooms, and changed into dry clothes before having some nibbles and drinks. As last time, Kati and Ross had a spread of note, to be washed down with some red wine. Unfortunately we only had olives and corn chips to add to the snacks.

Steve and Carol were already there as the other pair based at the hut, as well as Tony who was the lucky winner of the trig marshal spot, where we were based previously.

We poured a tipple just as Suzanne arrived. She volunteered as the first aider on the ridge between Powell Hut and part of the ridge, while another medic would be handling the other half of the ridge towards Jumbo Hut.

A few other people were also based at the hut: a pair of older friends, a mum with kids, and young hikers. We were all safe and warm inside the hut, while it was cold and super wet outside. No respite in the rain and every time you had to make a dash for the longdrop, you cussed a little.

Our party became more rowdy as the others all started going to bed. At some point Kati checked her phone, when the news arrived of a totally flooded Auckland Airport. In fact the whole of Auckland was flooded. The rain pelted down at 71mm per hour, more than ever before, and caused widespread carnage: cars were floating down the road, slips wiped out houses and left others teetering over the edge, numerous houses and businesses flooded, and thousands were left without power. Four people had died (drowned), and the forecast did not look favourable for the coming days.

I was almost certain the race would be cancelled. But having said that, two years ago we marshalled in similar wet, poor visibility and windy (less than this time) conditions on the ridge, except the temperatures were below zero from the snow the days before the event. It was one of the coldest outings of my life, and yet the race went ahead and everyone arrived safe back at the bottom where the weather was infinitely more favourable.

During the night it kept on raining. Not super hard, but consistent and at times a little bit harder. Little streams started to form on the path to the loo, and the wind started to pick up a bit.

At about 2am, another mum and daughter arrived. I was mostly still awake (couldn’t sleep for some reason), and contemplating the fact that I have to get up and make a dash for the longdrop in the dark, cold and wet weather to go pee. We were sleeping on the top bunkbed, and getting out of the sleeping bag and putting on extra layers was noisy. Suzanne, Kati, Ross and us shared the one room, and I thought we’d wake them all up.

But out and back in my cosy sleeping bag, after some more noise, I felt infinitely better. Finally I could sleep.

In the morning, Gerry made some tea to have with rusks, while we were all nervously waiting for the radio to crackle into action informing us that the race was called off. But still the call didn’t come.

Getting ready for the first arrivals, we put on thermals and puffers, beanies, buffs, rain jackets and rain pants. We sorted the camera, and I took shelter in the wood shed, ready to shoot some runners. With the clag, rain and generally poor conditions for photos, I wasn’t hopeful, but figured I might at least capture something of the action and drama as it was unfolding on the porch of the hut.

Kati and Ross decided to pack up, have breakfast, and head down. They had heaps to do before moving back to South Africa later that week.

Like wet chickens the first runners started to arrive. Using a stopwatch, Gerry was taking their times while Carol recorded their numbers. Some put on more layers, others filled up their water flasks, before heading further up the mountain to the ridge where Suzanne and Tony were. By now they had some time on the top to evaluate the situation. And taking a walk in the gale and sleet, Suzanne opted to make the call that the race be called off. It was dangerous in the super wet conditions to traipse along the ridge in gale force winds.

Quite a few runners had gone past us already, but all the new arrivals were informed to turn around. While some seemed relieved, others were disappointed. A few decided to hand over their race numbers and carry on at their own risk. The ones that had gone past the hut, were turned around by Suzanne and Tony. The runners going the other way around were turned back at Jumbo Hut.

It was over. The year that wasn’t meant to be.

We made a last cup of coffee, packed up and started heading down the mountain. Suzanne followed suit, and caught up with us within the first couple hundred metres. With everything being wet, puddles of water and some mud, we took the first very steep section slowly. Back at the Mountain House Shelter, we had a quick break and a bite to eat, before continuing down the mountain.

By the time we reached the event finish line (surprised that it took me 2:30) we were soaked to the bone. Gerry bought coffee at the cart, we had some event food, and walked the final few hundred metres back to the car. Gerry drove up to the toilet, we chatted to Salome and her friend Matt, swapped our wet clothes for dry ones, and drove back home.

Our cat, which I was worried about was of course perfectly fine and happy to be high and dry inside the house the past 28 hours, instead of fending for food and shelter in the wet stormy weather.

I started this post with a long report on our stray cat, but thought I’d rather stick to the mountain and event itself. But for the record, the story of the cat is as follows.

We have a stray cat. Actually we were feeding several in the first half of 2022 as I thought that might keep them from catching birds. Not sure if it helps, but that was my theory. Occasionally there would be a cat fight on the porch in the middle of the night, and before we could get out of bed and turn on the light to inspect what was going on, they would be gone.

At the time I was working as a trapper and we had just bought new field cameras for work. Doing some trials and testing them out was a great opportunity to see what was going on. We saw possums (multiple!) hang out around our Good Nature trap, every night, but they would avoid it like the plague. We’ve had that trap for about 8 years, locked and loaded, and it is yet to kill any pests.

After a few nights of watching possums, we decided to see what was going on on the porch at night. Turns out we were feeding three stray cats, and occasionally more than one would come for a feed at the same time causing a fight. But one of them outplayed the others and decided to move in.

I was worried about it being a girl and pregnant as it had huge boobs, and at other times I worried about a boy going chasing after girls and making more babies, worsening the cat problem. But then a vet friend came to visit and put our minds at ease – it was a boy and it had been neutered.

This stray cat is a rather big grey cat. It chose us, and started getting friendly with only us. When it hears an unfamiliar voice, it would run and hide under our bed. It spent most days on our couch or on the bed, and at around 8pm it would usually go outside for a galavant. Between two and four am it would meow outside, wanting to come back in. It felt like having a baby in the house – we would take turns to let it out and get back in again, often more than once during the night.

This has been going on for about nine months. Sometimes we might have to go away, having to lock it out. Early on we had to go away for a month, but after our return, Mr Cat returned on the second night, hovering by the door. The last time we had to go away for only one night, kitty got all anxious, following us around the house, looking nervous and not wanting to go outside. Eventually we had to boot him out and close the door. Poor bugger.

This time, he again detected that something was up, and decided to sneakily hide in the far corner under the bed. I checked under the bed and called minutes before, when Gerry had one last look, only to find kitty hiding. Perhaps he knew what was coming weather wise, but I felt sorry for him and decided to let him be. With enough food and water to last him a few days, we locked him inside and were off on our marshalling trip. We were only away for a bit more than a day, and he probably hardly noticed we were gone. However, we need to put in a cat flap or something, so that Mr can come and go as he pleases.

Another item on the never-ending to-do list.

by

The UTK (Ultra Trail Kosciuszko) that wasn’t

I thought perhaps I should just write a follow-up about our plan to run the 100 mile event in 2022.

Maybe because it is a new event and to entice participants into entering super early (it worked!), the event had the option to carry over your entry at no cost to the next year should you not be able to do it for whatever reason. And back doors are dangerous – when there’s a back door, one is almost guaranteed to take it.

In our defence we did try. We started with a bang and were doing very well for a few months, slowly building up fitness. Then my mum got sick, and we had to make the trip back to the motherland. Travelling around the world, and back and forth between our families for more than a month, took its toll. What was meant to be a crucial time in our buildup, ended up being a next to no training month. Coupled with all the stress of travelling, missing a connecting flight due to a stuff up by Qantas with the first flight, and having to postpone everything by a week, rearrange and rebook everything, eventually arriving without luggage, the stress of a sick parent, and the list goes on, training was the absolute last thing on my mind. Plus, that back door was wide open.

Arriving back, exhausted, to horrible weather (it seems to be getting worse) – non-stop wind and sideways rain – our enthusiasm for the inaugural event was all but gone. So we made the call to transfer our entries to this year. It is not a good decision to have to make. One’s self-esteem takes a knock and you feel like a failure.

Following the proceedings leading up to the event on FB, I was met with a mix of FOMO and relief. It was snowing up in the mountain in the weeks leading up to, and still a few days out from, the event and it started to look like the compulsory gear would have to be next level. Some lack of communication and other hick-ups by the organisers – GPX files were not made available and final course maps were not shared until the last minute, perhaps because the course had to be changed TWICE due to snow and safety of runners, details about aid stations, drop bags, pacers, support crew, etc – resulted in participants getting anxious and angry. Tonnes of entries were sold off and transferred, and things were looking to be in a bit of a shambles. At the same time, those who stuck to it could boast to be hardcore, have grit, and able to deal with whatever life throws at them. Ultimately, I suspect the course routes need some serious rethinking and replanning for the years to come.

But, fingers crossed, we can get our act together and line up at the start end of this year. We bought a new watch. The Suunto 9 Peak Pro to replace the old one of more than eight years. It was time. And with new gear comes renewed enthusiasm. We have a rough idea of what we need to do, and where we need to be with our training each month. The overall aim is to get out the door six days a week, to build up slowly, never to skip the long-run, walk heaps, and do the occasional speed session. On top of that, we have to start focusing on strength training and flexibility. My buggered hips and misalignment need all the help they can get.

To 2023! May it be a good year for health and fitness.

by

Inibos parkrun (Bloemfontein, South Africa)

Date: 23 July 2022
Distance: 5km
Time: 30:16 (Gerry, 30:50, even though we finished together)

On a visit to my homeland, we decided to do one of the local parkruns in Bloemfontein, the town I grew up in.

With the Comrades marathon – the pinnacle of South African road running (an 89km run between Durban and Pietermaritzburg, alternating the starting town from year to year) – being the largest and oldest on-road ultra in the world, the whole running calendar is geared towards getting about 15,000 (or 23,961 on the race’s 75 anniversary in 2000) participants thought the course in 12 hours every year. Some interesting facts about the race was published in Runner’s World.

This is a country with a lot of focus (unofficially) on running – a lot of people run (a small event would draw 1000 participants), and when we were still living here, a 6min/km pace would place one in the middle of the pack. In New Zealand, you can easily be last with a 6min/km pace. But things are changing, and with more people taking up the sport, the focus is increasingly more on participation, even in New Zealand.

In terms of parkrun, there are 206 parkruns in South Africa. The SA male and female parkrun records are 14:02 and 16:35 respectively, compared to NZ at 14:26 and 16:23. A faster male time in SA and a faster female time in NZ.

The Inibos parkrun is one of three parkruns in Bloemfontein, capital of the Free State province. In summer it takes place every Saturday at 7:00am (October – March) and in winter at 8:00am (April – September). Although parkrun is usually at 8am around the world, I guess an earlier start is granted in semi-arid and desert-type countries where the temperatures may pose problems in terms of heat exhaustion and sun stroke. It was quite a change moving to NZ where events rarely starts before 8am, when we were used to start at 6am and be finished with a 21k run by 8:00. Also, in summertime SA events would often start at 5am.

Inibos (a colloquialism for what would roughly translate to ‘in the bush’) is a private playground for runners, walkers, MTBers, kids’ quad bike rides, airsoft, and other adventures, with a picnic area and coffee shop. The course is run on gravel roads and single track trails. It is a double lapper of 2.5km with just a small uphill stretch in the middle of each lap. The familiar dead, yellow winter grass, dusty tracks, eucalyptus and other indigenous trees, not to mentioned prickly weeds that get into socks and shoes and eventually skin, bring back good memories of our running beginnings some twenty-plus years ago.

We started near the back, and soon had to pass some walkers and slower runners. Since we ran some twists and loops, we could see the runners ahead and behind us. The ground was uneven, solid and dusty, making it hand to just tune out and run.

We were going at a reasonable clip despite the fact that we’re running at 1500 metre altitude. Add to that my current ‘fitness level’ (or rather lack of fitness), and I was huffing and puffing like and old steam engine. But without totally killing myself I could manage a 6 min/km pace.

At the little hump at the finish where the volunteers recorded our time, the one lady edged me on to run quick and not let the men ‘beat us women’. I assumed she was referring to Gerry who was right behind me. On the clock on the wall I saw that my time was a bit over thirty minutes which is not flash, but I was happy to be able to achieve that. When the results came out, big was my surprise to be the first female (haha) and 13th overall out of 99 runners. This parkrun is perhaps more focussed on getting out and being social than running at speed, the way parkrun is intended to be.

We didn’t stay for any social activities afterwards as we didn’t want to be away from the family for longer than needed. It’s been seven years since we last made a trip to South Africa, making our long-overdue family time precious.

Perhaps next week we’ll try a different one.

by

Kosci Kosci Kosci, Oi Oi Oi

Crossing that bridge to the unknown.

To say that the past two years didn’t take its toll, would be a lie. I thought I was reasonably okay with everything that surrounded the COVID-19 pandemic, but on hindsight, I did feel down and uninterested in most things. Especially with regards to running, training, events, and everything running related, but also going groceries shopping or even just out for coffee. The constant reminder via masks, the tracer app, QR codes, and the resistance-inducing smell of sanitiser, was all a bit overwhelming and distressing, and it was almost as if social distancing became attractive and comfortable – not needing to interact with others. It was promoted everywhere – keep your distance, stay two metres away from others, and so on completely the opposite of normal human behaviour, wants and needs.

Continue reading →
by

To Herepai peak and back

Date: 23 October
Distance: 12.7k
Time: 4:22

Just when I think we are back on track, running regularly, slowly building up the kms, something happens (in my head, I guess) and the enthusiasm dwindles. Perhaps the knowledge that my body is out of alignment, causing all sorts of semipermanent issues, is resting heavily in the back of my mind. The surgeon’s words keep repeating in my head; ‘better find yourself another sport’ and ‘forget about running’. A small part of me still thinks it is fixable, but that would involve a knowledgeable person/s (in terms of bone, muscle and fascia) who can work with me to iron out the wrinkles: lateral pelvic tilt, hip dysplasia, femoroacetabular impingement, weakness and knee pain, fused vertebrae, mild scoliosis, and the list goes on. None of it is life-threatening or so bad that normal life has to come to a halt. Pelvic instability is probably a fair name for my ailments. But I firmly believe that with the right help in terms of strength and flexibility in the right places, the ball of my femur will stay put and not fumble about in the socket causing pain. I do not see FAI as a death sentence or nearly as bad as surgeons make it out to be. When you have a hammer, everything looks like a nail. Surgeons want to cut – that is their bread and butter.

Continue reading →