My confidence got the better of me in July when the Kepler Challenge entries opened. A 62km mountain race with 2040m elevation. We’re Fiordland residents now, it would be rude not to…
I’d learned that the actual race entries sell out in minutes, but experienced that sense of glory the first Saturday in July. Despite a fumble with the payment screen, I was in and had bagged myself a position on the Kepler Challenge start line… now I just had to get myslef there fit and injury free.
September rolled around far too quickly and I was struggling with hip and adductor pain. I’d told almost no one that I had entered the Kepler and was starting to wonder if I’d be able to knock off this huge goal. I panic mentioned it during a video call to David, Nath’s run coach. He winced a little at the time frame but within a few days he had training plan ready to go.
Now I just had to fix my adductor!
Out of necessity, a physio was privi to my plans and looked sideways at me and my ‘issues’ on the first appointment and revealed that he was on the Kepler organising Team (small towns, of course he is). Having done the Kepler himself five times, he hinted that I better do the mahi or face being helicoptered out. He didn’t share my humour when I suggested that was a pretty good prize for a DNF.
Resistance bands, strength exercises, core workouts, dry needles, plenty of massage and an actual training plan…. it was game on. 10 weeks to prep for Kepler.
Scary goals are scary, and exhilirating, especially when you cut it fine. And have hurdles to jump – time, timing, biology, niggles. missed training, a really early taper. My longest run in a year and a half was 23km and now I was in full panic and self doubt mode. I spent some time toing and froing on the Kepler website, investigating the transfer and withdrawal T&C’s and deadines… Truly thankful for the guidance, help and encouragement from Coach David and Physio Brendan for their words of wisdom and belief in me. Together with a mathematical course breakdown by Lee, plus a strong desire NOT to lose 75% of my entry fee, I managed to arrive at race week with my entry in tact and feeling slightly less crappy. My expectations and goals with this one were pretty conservative… beat the sweeper and don’t fall over.
Despite the toughness, I loved this race. It was absolutely perfect running conditions, barely any wind, and stunning views across the mountain tops. The buzz from the closely circling helicopter providing extra motivation to stay on my feet across the rocky terrain, so as not to make the videographers ”stacks of Kepler” highlight reel. I stuck to my promise of walking the climbs and not burning myself out early, not that I had to restrain myself from running them, flippin heck! Brutal.
Then, as I made my way along the ridge lines, feeling great and quite literally on top of the world, somewhere just before the Forest Burn Shelter, an issue was arising and I began to loose all feeling in my hands. They’d blown up like puffer fish and by the time I got to the ridgeline, I had no movement or function in my super swollen fingers. I’d never experienced anything like this before so my first (and only) thought was it must be circulation, altitude and the cold. On I went, attempting to warm up my rubbery hands and loosen my watch strap, that now looked like it had acted a tourniquet around my left wrist, preventing the swelling from moving up my arm. As a last resort I lifted my hands in the air and ran for a short distance with them high above my head. In theory to help with circulation and hope my sausage fingers would go down. It didn’t work. Worst of all, the skin around my swollen joints started to split and I couldn’t hold my drink bottle or my phone (hence the lack of my own on course photos).
As I approached Hanging Valley Shelter I started feeling a bit light headed. I still I put it down to altitude, circulation and the recent bout of hormone chaos that rudely reminded me I was past 40. I got through the Hanging Valley aid station and with the approaching descent thought, she’ll be right.
Gosh I love that downhill. Not the stairs, the section through the tree line with the switchbacks to Iris Burn. After all that uphill hiking it was so good to just run and allow the heart rate to stay calm. A couple of questionable slips along the way and a mad as hell detour (WTF?) to keep things interesting, the Iris Burn Hut eventually came into sight marking the halfway point.
Bottles are hard to fill without hands, and not wanting to draw too much attention to my issues (reasons still unknown to me) and risk getting pulled from the race, I cheerily let the volunteers at the aid station top up my bottles. I got the job done and was in and out, 30 minutes ahead of the time Lee had set me.
My hands continued to look like balloons and for the next 30k I tried to wiggle some life into them. Knowing my coach Dr. David would be well finished by the time I got to Motorau Hut, the first place you can get mobile coverage, I thought about texting him for some emergency guidance on my hands. Trouble was, I couldn’t hold a phone, let alone type something. On I trucked.
Moturau Hut was the first place I allowed myself to stop and rest. A crowd had gathered on the grass and music was blaring. After crossing the timing mat I thought of Lee following me on the live tracker. I was beating all his estimated splits which would provide us both with some evidence that I was going ok. My bottles were topped up at the aid station with some suspicious brown ‘Fiordland water’ and took a risk in sitting down for a moment to enjoy an Em’s Protein Bar. In all honesty it was exactly what I needed. After a refuel and a chill out I managed to get to my feet again feeling much more settled. Three closely packed aid stations to go. This part of the track I knew well, and now I had everything I needed to get myself to the finish without stopping, I just desperately wanted to get home!
People talk about the last 16km being a grind. I loved it. Mind switched off, one foot in front of the other. I’m surprised at how well I’m still running. I must thank David at the finish. After he fixes my hands.
The kms trickled down and Rainbow Reach comes up pretty quickly. It’s the first and only point spectators and crew can access runners on the course. I wasn’t sure if I’d see Lee and the kids there. Despite the nearby carpark and his promise to try, I knew it was a bit of an ask. No sign of them. 9km to go.
I catch a few runners on this last section along the river terrace. They grumble about the pinchy hills. I stay quiet. There are three more and they all suck with 50+ km in the legs. And there is potentially a fallen tree to climb over. Still not chainsawed, that damn things was still crossing the track with 2km to go, blocking the path at a very inconvenient height. No question. I wasn’t going to craw under it. I bum shuffled over and as soon as my feet hit the ground on the other side I had the biggest grin on my face. It was done. The sounds of the finish line could be heard through the tress and I knew I’d made it. Lee, the kids, Coach David, and Physio Brendan (who’d be in the commentary van) were all going to be there and happy to see me cross that bridge. A big strong finish, tired but not broken, best feeling ever!
As the medal was hung around my neck, Brendan approached with a massive smile and a hug. Having been through the last 10 weeks with me and helping me get to the start, it meant a lot. Nath appeared through the crowd and wrapped his arms around me. Relief. Then I spotted Lee, David and Amanda standing and waiting just outside the finish chute. I walked straight up to David holding out my swollen cracked hands.
“I did it!” I sad, “but what the heck happened here?”
“Sodium” he replied without hesitation, “have a Coke”.
A huge hug from Lee, he handed me a pre-prepared flattened bottle of cola. I handed it straight back and told him I can’t remove the damn lid.
Kepler Challenge. We did it!
