Tarawera Training Part 3 - Going Light

Otakaina - Tarawera Falls Track - keeps on dragging me back!

For the 2012 race I decided to turn my training on its head.  The reality is that I didn't have any choice, as I only decided, for certain, to enter the race about 6 weeks out from the start (I tried, but couldn't resist the Sirens' call of the Okataina - Tarawera Falls Track, or the chance to meet Anton Krupicka).

With only 6 weeks to train I knew that I’d have to do things a little differently – I had no time to gradually build up a base of long slow runs, so decided to see what would happen if I kept up high intensity shorter training runs, mixed with strength and cardio training on the bike.  Looking back over my training diary, I averaged only 43km/week running in the 6 weeks leading up to the race, and only did 3 runs over 30km, my longest being 45km two weeks before the event.

Going in to the race, I felt relaxed and confident, based on the fact that I knew the course well (having run it the last 2 years), and I wasn’t feeling tired or overtrained (which is a very good thing).  At race registration on the Friday night I “upgraded” my entry from the 60k to the 85k, perhaps letting my confidence get the better of me...

On race day I did two things differently, and I would recommend both of them.

First, I ditched my trusty Camelbak in favour of a hand-held bottle.  What I'd realised on my first two races was that I ended up lugging around much more water, gear, and nutrition than I really needed.  The aid stations at Tarawera are numerous (rarely more than about 10k apart), and ridiculously well stocked.  I look forward to the buffet every year.  You can also leave drop bags at a number of the aid stations, so, there's no need to take copious amounts of food or gear with you.  Ditching the Camelbak gave me the feeling of freedom - running as light as possible - and I loved it.

Running with the hand-held

The second difference was that I ditched the trail shoes for regular light weight road shoes.  The trails at Tarawera are generally in very good condition, and not too technical (although a bit rocky and rooty in places), and you just don't need heavy duty trail shoes (like you do on very muddy and/or technical trails).  The only, minor, issue was that parts of the track were flooded (mainly around the Blue Lake), and roadies (at least mine) are not built to drain like trail shoes, and so filled with water and sand.  If the track is flooded at any point I would recommend bringing an extra pair of socks, as running with sand and grit in your shoes for 100k is no fun for anyone!  Also, if it has been very wet leading up to the race, it may pay to run the first leg (Redwoods to Okareka) in trail shoes with some grip, as there are some steeper parts in the first section on a clay based track, and they can be slippery.  Other than that, you can leave your trail shoes at home!

I managed to finish the 85k race (to complete the 60-85-100k trifecta) in a time of 11.31, which I was very happy with given my limited training, and even more limited running ability.  I proved to myself that there is no magic formula you must follow. Just run and enjoy every minute.

Anton Krupicka at the finish

Tarawera Training Part 2 - the Big Kahuna

Ultra running not only expands the lungs, it expands the mind. After completing the 60k course in 2010, a whole new world of possibilities opened up, and I decided to have a crack at the 100k race in 2011.  Little did I know what a journey it would become.

I realised early on that I would need something extra to motivate me to train for and complete a 100k race - something so far beyond my comprehension when I started running, and still hard to get my head around.  So I decided to use the run as a means of fundraising for Mercy Hospice. And it was the most rewarding thing I have ever done (more about that later).  My connection with Mercy was that my mother had passed away in April 2009 (about a month after my first Tarawera) and had been cared for, on and off, by Mercy Hospice in the most amazing and supportive way.  I viewed fundraising for them as one very small way I could give back.

On to the training.  I started training in earnest about 16 weeks out from the event.  Up until then I had been following a marathon training plan, and had a PB at the Auckland Marathon at the end of October 2010, so was happy with the way things were going.  I did 2 things differently training for the 100k event.

First, I upped my weekly mileage, starting at around 100km per week immediately post marathon training, and working up to a max of around 160km per week.  It was hard to fit in at times, but the extra mileage did wonders for my running efficiency, and I started making real gains. It can be a fine line between training enough, and too much, and everyone is different, but for me, I started feeling the gains at 100km+, and couldn't safely do any more than 160km without blowing a fuse.  I recommend that everyone experiment to find out what their limit is, but try not to cross it, and don't get sucked in to a number that someone else says you should do.

Second, I started doing back-to-back long runs on a Saturday and Sunday - starting with 2 hours + 2 hours, and working up to 4.5 hours + 4.5 hours.  The main reason for doing that was to fit the training in - with a busy family life, taking off for 6 or 8 hours on any given day wasn't an option, so I had to break it up.  The back-to-backs taught me how to pace myself (on the Saturday) and how to run on tired legs (on the Sunday).  They worked well, and I still do them.

On to the race, I will never forget the nervous and emotional feeling of toeing the line for the start of my first 100k.  I had so many people who had supported me throughout my training, and our entire family at the race, and felt a heavy weight of responsibility on my shoulders.  I think some dust blew into my eyes, as they both started watering involuntarily (what's up with that?).  I was actually relieved when the gun went off, and we were away.

Running up Miller Road, about 20km in

I did a couple of things during the race that helped me through. Just simple things, but they worked.

First, I broke the race down in my head to various stages, and dedicated each stage to someone important in my life.  The first stage, from the Redwoods to Okareka, I dedicated (perhaps selfishly?) to the new me.  In 2006, before I started running, I had attempted to run the 5km or so around the Blue Lake with some friends.  I was so unfit that I made it no further than 500m before I couldn't run any more, and walked the rest of the way.  It took almost an hour, and  I was dead last out of the 12 friends who ran the lake that day, and was embarrassed as hell.  So, now when I run around the Blue Lake I think of that day, and how far I have come since 2006.  The next stage (the toughie between Millar Road and Okataina) I dedicated to our two boys, Max and Charlie, and for them I ran every step of that infernal walkway.  I dedicated Okataina to Tarawera Falls to my beautiful wife and greatest supporter Bridget, the stretch between Tarawera Falls and Titioki to our daughter Lucie, and the last and toughest stretch by far to my dear Mum, who I was really running the whole thing for.  Thinking about others took my mind away from my own pain, and inspired me to continue when I might have otherwise given up.

Second, I enlisted the support of a great crew.  I had a great mate Glen Larsen pace me.  I would recommend that everyone doing the race for the first time gets a pacer.  Glen ran, hiked, walked and stumbled the last 30k with me from Titoki to the finish.  He's an all time good bastard, and fulfilled his pacer duties with style.  I also had Bridget meeting me at practically every aid station (barring the ones you can't access).  Knowing she would be there, and seeing her as I ran in every time, gave me a huge psychological lift.

Me and super-pacer Glen

From left to right, nephew Jack, sister-in-law Bernie, me, brother Steve, niece Eva and my greatest supporter, Bridget

I had my moments during the race when I was absolutely stuffed, but I never doubted that I would finish.  At one point between Tarawera Falls and Titoki (about 65-70km in) I felt for a minute that I couldn't go on.  I sat down on the side of the trail, and dust blew into my eyes again.  I gave myself a stern talking to, changed my socks (always keep a spare pair in your backpack - they can be a psychological life saver), ate a gel, and started again.  I didn't allow myself to think there were 30km to go, just a few km until the next aid station. I had learnt through my training that after being on my feet for hours there would be lows, but they would pass.   In fact one of my favourite quotes goes something along the lines of "it (almost) never keeps on getting worse".  Another way of looking at it is "if you're feeling good during an ultra, don't worry, you'll get over it". The point is that you will experience highs and lows, but keep on going and never give up.

13 hours and 54 minutes after the race stated in the Redwoods, I crossed the line at Kawerau.  In doing so I managed to raise over $10,000 for Mercy Hospice, and expanded my horizons as to what is possible once again.  It was one of the best and toughest days I have experienced, and worth every second.

Tarawera Training Part 1

I love the Vibram Tarawera Ultramarathon. This year will be the fourth time I have run it, and (all going well) the second time I have run the 100km race.

My journey started in 2009.  At that stage I had only run 2 marathons (Auckland in 2007 and 2008), but I felt that I knew I could do the marathon distance, and it was time to plunge into the abyss of the unknown.  I was inspired to try trail running by reading Dean Karnazes' books 50/50 and Ultramarathon Man, and Chris McDougall's Born to Run.  In 2009 I didn't actually know anyone who ran trails, and I had never attempted to run off road (other than the occasional foray across the paddocks at Cornwall Park).

So I registered for the 2010 Tarawera Ultra 60km race. I trained by running around Cornwall Park, and on the roads around Auckland. I couldn't find much information about ultra training, so basically followed a marathon training plan, and tried to ramp up my long run to 40-45km.  I had mixed success on the long runs - I did a handful in the 30-35km range and one over 40km.  I had no idea whether I would be able to do 60km, off-road, and loved the idea of that challenge.

I remember people asking me at Tarawera what my trail running background was, and telling them that I had none - that the race was the first time I had run on a real trail - and the look of disbelief I got. It even seemed stupid to be saying it.

During the race itself I made all of the usual rookie mistakes. I went out far too fast - running the first 20k at around my half marathon pace at the time (what was I thinking?).  I didn't know the course, and hadn't studied a map of it, so I had no real idea of where I was. I wore a brand new pair of trail shoes (my first ever pair), and a new Camelbak, which I had run once or twice with.

As a result, by Lake Okareka I had blisters on my feet the size of jelly beans (I took off my shoes and socks and one of the volunteers gasped at the sight of my feet and went looking for a first aid kit), and I was feeling beaten up.  I didn't know that I had the hardest part of the 60km course yet to come.

The next part of the course up and over the Okataina Walkway was my baptism of fire. My legs and lungs burned on the steep climbs, and my body burned as I started to overheat and dehydrate. And then I hit the downhills into the Okataina aid station, and felt the pain in my quads from every step.  By the time I reached Okataina (about 40km in) I was done.  I slumped into a chair at the aid station, and didn't want to get out again.  But then I remembered why I was there - to take on the unknown (and beat the sucker!), and so willed myself out of that seat and onwards.

The next part of the trail, between Okataina and the 60k finish at Tarawera Falls was, and still is, my favourite. The trail runs deep into native bush, and in parts it's like a prehistoric world. It rejuvenated my will to continue - I remember thinking it was almost magical - like Pandora in NZ (I almost expected a Na'vi to appear in the bush!). That said, it was a hard slog - I ran some, walked some, shuffled some, and ran some more. Soon after entering this final section my Garmin died, and I lost the (at times cold) comfort of knowing how far I had to go.  I started counting footsteps 100 at a time - 1000 for each km.  I was beyond fatigued, slightly delirious, but determined to finish. So I kept on going, thinking "relentless forward progress" would get me there.

Finally, just over 9 hours after I had begun, I emerged into a clearing and shuffled across the 60K finish line, having completed my first ultra.  I was stuffed, but elated. I'd achieved something I never in my wildest dreams thought was possible. And started planning next years race...