Last week I ran The Big Kid Alpine Adventure Race (16km) for the first time. It’s the furthest I’ve ever run in a race.
Friends and colleagues asked “how was the race?” I was stumped each time. How could I explain that I had left a piece of me behind on that mountain? How do I describe in the sentence or two that people wanted just how a simple race has allowed me to see a side of myself that could battle against the elements, and against myself, and win?
“Good” I say. “A bit of an adventure”.
The truth is longer than that…
The Big Kids – Sandy, Sophie, Ronel, Me & Andrew
A bunch of big kids wait in a windy sheep pen.
Nervous crinkle of race numbers pinned to tops. Excitement is in the air.
Someone rings a goat bell. We’re off!
Over grass and rutted roads. Focused on getting my breathing under control.
Runners spread out in front of me. All shapes and sizes with colourful jackets flapping in the wind.
A slow trickle of heat crept up my left calve. Just ignore it. It will pass.
Pain caught me. Uninvited. Unwelcome. Unexpected. Cramp.
Forced to a walk. Mind swirling. Emotion overwhelming logic. Tears of frustration.
“You could turn back” suggested a fellow runner.
Giving up was never an option – waste of bloody training.
A trail fit for a goat
Pain eased. Tentative steps were taken. One then another until I was running again.
Relief turned to glee as I hit the mud. Knee depth, shoe-clutching oozy bog.
Hemmed in by manuka bush. No staying dry. Concentrating on keeping on my feet.
Bog gave way to wetlands. Single track; fit for goat sized feet.
Slid into a puddle, up to my knee. Gingerly pulled my leg out. No damage done.
Tussocks grow taller and become an ancient beech forest.
Eerie beauty. Sheltered and protected as a storm gathered strength overhead.
A peace so still that for a moment I want to stop moving, stop breathing.
To be absorbed into the heavy silence.
Approaching the waterfall
The forest opened out. I walked straight into the storm.
Sheets of rain torn across the terrain.
Jacket on. Head down, my view was of the slippery boardwalk.
The first of many stream crossings appeared down a rocky slope.
Icy water makes me cringe. The water takes away the feeling in my feet.
Arms pumping to move me forward, to bring tingling legs to life.
A watery scramble to the top
Looking up I see The Waterfall through the rain.
Shree rock stretches above me. I grin. I do love a challenge.
Using feet, hands, elbows I scramble and stumble my way up.
No grip left on the rocks. Slip. Slide. Relentlessly move upwards.
The path is lost in the climb up. All I can see are rocks. Energy starts to fail.
Hands numb. I reach the road. Mama’s Mile.
Mama’s Mile
A 10% incline until the finish. Gale force winds knock into me from the left.
I lend in. Hood pulled over my eyes. I focus on white line.
The road flattens out. The finish line is ahead. Can I do it? My pace picks up.
The Finish.
The final straight
