Motatapu Wanders March 24, 2011

Soooooooo…..Motatapu………….Yes  well first of all the event I entered was a marathon. Seems obvious when that is what it is called and when they cite the distance as 42.2 kms doesn’t it?

I have done one marathon before and trained and prepared well for it. This time, I trained and prepared to run hills.And I also relaxed and had a lovely summer. Diet was not quite what it could have been but heyyyyyy…..

For the first 20 kms there are quite a few hills and I was doing OK- nothing too steep but steady. Great road, sandy in places and no horrible camber like Molesworth. People are lovely and there is a lot of chatting and laughing as we all slogged up and along. The Motatapu land is beautifully cared for- tussock and grass with none of the evil rosehips which plague the rest of the Central Otago landscapes. Beautiful rivers to cross- not to deep or cold and no huge boulders like the Coast to Coast. At the half way station I felt good-cocky even. Hills behind and so far no pesky mountain bikers. So far so good you might say.

And that is where it all went horribly wrong… there was still 21.1 kms to go…slowly rising kilometer after kilometer after kilometer…in other words the part of the marathon where training ..Yes the T word, where training really counts. Can I say here, for anyone contemplating a marathon and no matter how many you have done before—-it is very important to do a long run (30 kms minimum) at least once in the four weeks before a marathon. It seems to get the bones and ligaments and muscles ready for the onslaught of the kilometers between 25 and 40.

I passed people who had passed me and then I passed them again. You know who you are! Cook from Antartica!  You get to know people well in these passing encounters. Cheerful chats make a big difference when you know you are 15 kms from home and the only way the pain is going to stop is for you to get there…somehow. The lack of training is not just a physical problem- it is a mental problem as well.

Every pain, every ache pricks your conscience. You know in your joints it would not hurt as much if only you had done the work and so you know you have to pay and you know you deserve the pain to get much worse. In my first marathon it was my ankles (after I finished). This time it was my hips (10 kms BEFORE) I finished.

But Hark! There was Bob and Dot from Paris and Auckland- veteran marathon runners par excellence- I passed, they passed, I passed, they passed… we chatted, they passed. Then the mountain bikers arrived in sequential yells of KEEP RIGHT. Death (mine) was the alternative and so I did- they did not always and next year I will carry a spoke stick for those who cut the corners.

BEWARE! Don’t piss off a sore untrained, unfit elderly marathon staggerer at 38 kms! on the downhill stage. Especially when you are sitting down and she isn’t.

Anyway, back to Bob and Dot and the passing and the chatting.. all was fine- they steamed ahead as I slowed to a piddle on the downhill straight. Now this was where I had actually planned to excel, leaping the last kilometers like a mountain goat to finish triumphantly in front of an admiring crowd. Well– here was me piddling along muttering under my breath at the MTBers and Bob and Dot were in front and then we hit the rivers. And the rivers. And the rivers. The crossings went on and on… so much for the mountain goat finish. And then it is over. Just like that. Right out loud.

And the moral of the story. TRAIN for a marathon- ALL of it- Not just the first half with the hills, but the long bits that require running…lots of running. REMEMBER that for next year.

Thank you Motatapu. It was a lesson on a beautiful day in beautiful country with blue skies, great people and bloody MTBers. 

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