The Kepler Challenge Mountain Run - A 10-Point Guide

The 60km Kepler Challenge has been on my bucket list for quite some time, and it's a race for anyone who doesn't mind dipping their toes into something that's bound to be a bit discomforting. It really is iconic as far as New Zealand running races go. The individuals I know who have done it definitely never said "it's shit, don't bother," and I've been told so many great stories from this race. It's been cranking along since 1988, so there's solid kudos to give to yourself when you skip across that finish line. It can be tricky to get an entry: as soon as the online gate opens, spots are whipped up in under 3 minutes, so you really have to your shit together on that particular morning. If you don't get a spot, fear not; there is a wait list. If you do find yourself on the waitlist, it actually pays to keep motivated with training as chances tend to be high for getting a coveted race spot.

The idyllic host town, Te Anau, is a tourist hub, so there's plenty of accommodation to choose from. I went the dirtbag route and slept in the back of a van while posting up at the local campground; it had all the amenities. Honestly, it was luxury (for me): here I was, kid free for the first time in two years, and it only took signing up to an ultra run to bag myself a few nights away, #winning.

Here's my non-comprehensive and delirium-induced 10-point guide to all things Kepler Challenge.

1. The Welcome. The event is held in December, so it's already starting to feel like Christmas, race decorations are out, and the town is truly buzzing in race weekend cheer. Te Anau as a whole really gets behind the event and makes everyone feel very welcomed. Your average tourist visiting the town may not have an idea of what's going on, but the locals do!

2. Check-In and the Volunteers. A race safety briefing and then happy people checking your race kit for your safety; you've got to have some essential items for spending the day in a mountain environment like rain protection and a few layers. Don't worry, you're not in Auckland anymore; you'll get your bag back and they'll even hand you a goodie bag with some nice keepsakes. If you do forget something, there's a pop up shop on site that has you covered for all your running needs. 

3. The Setting. Well, if you're coming from inner city Hamilton, this place will blow your socks off. A fabulous little town on a beautiful lake, mountains with snow capped peaks, and mega lush forests. This is the gateway to Fiordland National Park. No whinging here, there's so much to do!

4. The Early-Ass Start. You're up before the birds, about 3am should get you sorted in preparation for the 06:00 start. Shovel some breakfast in, then get yourself and your bag of tricks to the start line by 05:30. The complimentary shuttle coach service is superb, and is one less thing to worry about. Arrive onsite, warm the body up with a jog and join the line at the porta loos for a bit of pre-race banter.

 5. The Camaraderie: Is it just me or are people are only pretending to be nice? No, they're actually nice. But definitely don't trust anyone with a fancy smart watch. Seriously though, such a lovely group of running maniacs and the buzz of excitement is real. Whether you're at the pointy end of the race field or down the back, everyone is going to be on the same suffer bus for the day. You'll definitely make some pals along the way. Here's a nice Buddhist (maybe?) quote to remember for your day. "Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional." Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think any Buddhist monks have done the Kepler Challenge!

6. The First Bit. The horn goes and everyone takes off like they're knocking out a 5km Parkrun. While meandering through an intimidatingly lush forest, the ancient floor of moss soaks up the sound of the watch-wearing stampede. Things begin to get grizzly once the ascent kicks in, conversation is a bit fickle as heart rates rise and soon I begin to wonder if I am better off to have just stayed in bed! 

7. The Big Up. You're eventually kicked out of the forest and exposed to mountains with terrific looking tussocks and other fancy-looking fauna. You finally come upon the first aid station -  one of those hiking huts, filled with people who obviously have nothing better to do with their day; music and fuss, what on earth?! A table of snacks is on display but the screeching of those wretched mountain parrots makes you wonder if they are going to make a dive your way while you reach for some crunchy chips and jet planes. By the way, those "screeching parrots," the Kea, are beautiful and we're fortunate to be present in their home.

8. The Views Up Top: You continue to climb, passing some blokes dressed as a dinosaur and a pig, and they hope you stop to sample some hard liquor that's on their menu. Many do and others balk at the thoughts of downing their morning offerings. Onward to a ghastly skyline with the lake below, it looks alright, I guess...incredible if I'm being honest. More huts along the way, manned by very nice people with snackable delights on offer. If you happen to get a bit bruised up, they have bandaids, bandages, and concrete pills to see you continue onwards!

Calmly crying, internally.

9. Down the Back and Home: The ol' legs take a hammering on the down, especially when you hit the section of many, many steps, and soon your pins feel like you've gone a few rounds in a boxing ring with 30 toddlers head butting you in the thighs. But the joy of the few remaining aid stations keeps you motivated, themed with Christmas cheer and even providing Christmas cake; some much needed kai to fuel you home. If festive cheer is not your thing, it is today! One last surprise - you come upon a pop-up shopping aisle, surrounded by ancient trees, shelves filled with runner's bliss; although, you could be hallucinating from 50km of joy or agony, or perhaps it's a mix of both. Either way, the forest now holds another secret for decades to come.

10. The Afters. Finish lines tend to be the same at races: a mass of weary bodies in a half-zombie daze looking for a ride home to wash the stench of the day away. What you really need is to make your way towards the bustling downtown of Te Anau for a good feed and an evening of socialising. I opted for a burger and a glass of vino, and it went down a treat and set me up for the best night's sleep, something I haven't had in years, thx kiddos. It's best to book ahead at restaurants on race day to avoid disappointment. I chatted to a nice lady who had just done the Kepler track as a 3-day hike and she thought running it in a day was complete madness; while that may be true, it was nice to share the "madness" with a few hundred others on this particular occasion. 

If personal challenges are something that you strive for, you will be rewarded - immensely!  Perhaps you'll consider returning; many have for many years, and each year they return to revisit the event that ignites their flame of running accomplishment. This race is quality, extremely well-organised without being over the top and you'll have great photos to show as proof. Remember, it is a challenge and perhaps it may not go the way you imagined but you are bound to unfold some new personal growth and maybe even discover what it feels like to be on the right path to a more fulfilling life. My day...well, it didn't go "to plan," but I learned a lot from this particular race; indeed, pain was part of it and I had to dig deep to get myself home, but I won't label it as "suffering." For me, childbirth has been the high point of suffering, so let's say this race was a test of tenacity, and getting to cross that finish line was so much sweeter! 

To quote WB Yeats (an Irish writer and definitely not a runner): "There are no strangers here; just friends that you haven't yet met." The Kepler Challenge fits the bill, and 2024 online entries happen July 6th at NZDT 6am...sharp. https://keplerchallenge.co.nz/race-entry/

Your new friends will be waiting for you at the start line.

My favourite part of the day; the finish line! 

A Rise in Gas Prices and When You Think You Have Too Many Towels, You Actually Don't - the Unofficial Guide to a Home Birth

As I celebrate another trip around the sun, I'm thankful for family, friends and health; it's truly the ultimate wealth in life. I guess it's a good time to also announce the arrival of another tiny human to our household, although the arrival of that said tiny human was back on April 20th. It has taken me this long to get the use of my endlessly tired brain back, and type some cognizant words. 

For me, growing a baby has been by far the craziest "adventure" to date. It has both physically and mentally floored me throughout the process, but in hindsight has brought me incredible joy. "Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all." - Helen Keller

I guess this story has that pandemic thing that's been in the news the past 2 years to blame for. COVID has definitely brought its fair share of moving pieces, a bit like an ongoing game of chess. Many people with both short and long term plans scrapped or rescheduled at some point, and nothing quite played out like we had thought. Daily tasks ended up in the maelstrom of implemented COVID rules. In the grand scheme of things, we've all done reasonably well; adjusted our expectations, counted our fortunate stars, and have just gotten on with the good ol' game of life. In the depths of New Zealand COVID lockdown games, Eliot started his own business in Wānaka and now employs some lovely humans. As a whole, it's been a tough grind; saying that, an enjoyable part of the process has been discovering the wider community of great small business owners. I have remained in mom mode and CEO to Echo's social schedule, which can be quite busy - kids these days! Most years, Eliot and I have challenged ourselves with at least one good athletic race per year, but the ongoing bout of pesky cancellations had definitely put a damper on those goals. Alas, there was only one thing to do; and that dear reader, brings me to how it started...having another baby tale. 

"Fancy a merger on another baby?" I asked. "Sure," Eliot replied. International travel was looking like a giant pain in the arse with all the COVID rules and regulations. Why not have another baby?! It was now, or we were putting a cap on adding to the family of Es. I can safely say that the two best things about this pregnancy were the moonlight tryst and the final arrival of baby into this world! Everything from 6 weeks on was absolutely shite, to be blunt. Why on earth women want to do this baby thing multiple times is beyond my procreation comprehension. I thought I had it tough with the first go round, but the second round totally floored me. Perhaps running around after a 3 year old had a part in it, I don't know. I do know that every day for 32 weeks, I looked forward to the following day; one less day on the hideous horse of pregnancy. By the way, I love horses! If you are planning on having a baby, I forewarn you, my tale will not sell you on the process. I don't want to come across as an ungrateful woman; I have been fortunate to bring two children into this world with zero complications, and I have friends who have been faced with challenges that come with conceiving. It can be a heart-aching endeavor, both on an emotional and financial level, depending on what one is faced with. No matter the process, it's not the most enjoyable experience...no matter what the wave of social media #hashtags might lead you to think. The road to pregnancy and childbirth can be a fucking bitch and that's why women are badasses! The post-natal side of things is a whole new chapter; don't be fooled by their cuteness, as it's hard looking after a tiny human that relies on you 24/7 for at least, 1, 3, maybe 18 years. For those who may be the curious sort, if you need a refresher on my first birthing adventure, then have a look back at my tale on that here:  https://ethelmmurphy.blogspot.com/2019/10/the-best-sandwich-of-my-life-sneaky.html

 
Yes, babies are cute and it can be a bumpy ride along the way before your slippery nugget actually arrives. With this second pregnancy, these were my symptoms in no particular order: dry mouth with an underlying taste of nothing in particular; perhaps chalky desert dust if I was to actually compare it to something, just bland. No food group(s) EVER made it to the enjoyable stage - not even chocolate ice cream or a good ol' fashioned donut! Honestly, food was just a means to survive the 9 months, the only bonus being it seemed to stay down after the 20-week mark. Exercise, which is a big part of my life, was a struggle on a daily basis and soon I was down to perhaps 3 days a week of an easy walk, an extremely slow swim, or an even slower bike ride. The once a week bike ride stopped at the 7 month mark thanks to some brutal pelvic pain. All the aches and pain came and stayed for the entire gestation. I know I probably had it easier than many women on the pregnancy train, but there are definitely things that you don't expect and the greater World Wide Web doesn't seem to inform you of without some serious online digging. Painful leg and foot cramps in the middle of the night were so wretched that I had to get up and walk around to ease out the cramps. Throw in a dollop of acid reflux and heartburn so bad that if you could sleep standing up, you probably would. No nose bleeds on this endeavor but the pelvic pain and shortness of breath were at the forefront. My feet ached like I had run a marathon every day, and as time went by, the constant need to pee took over my daily and nightly life. Sleepless nights became so disrupted that Eliot took himself up to our loft crash pad for the remainder of my pregnancy; in fact, he's still there. Someone in the household has to sleep through the night! He reassures me on a daily basis that the Irish are built for suffering, albeit, the Irish have come a long way from the suffering of famine times! 

Mediating through the sporadic suffering

Our second little nugget entered into society on her own terms, one week early and at home. In fairness, she did give me a heads up 24 hours before, after I managed a pool swim. Little did I know it would be my last round of flip turns while pregnant. I had lower back pain, which I ignored, and got on with my daily tasks. I even popped into my favourite cafe and jokingly asked for a labour chai latte! That evening, cramps started to develop but I kinda ignored those too. Surely this was my body preparing itself for the due date I had in my calendar...nope, this was the baby making her exit. By 11pm, I started to howl incessantly like a stag during the roar. By midnight I was kneeling on the floor, on the phone to my midwife Vanessa, telling her we were going to load up into the car and make our way to the birthing unit in Alexandra. The trip to Alexandra was a 45 minute drive. I was looking forward to having 2 days of bed & breakfast and being looked after by the wonderful staff at the baby dispatch center, which sounded like the holiday that I desperately needed! Eliot plucked Echo out of her bed while in her dreamy state and handed her over to our wonderful neighbours. By the time he returned to shove me into the car, he found me naked in the bathroom with some liquid chaos on the floor - my waters had broken. I was doing my very best to meditate my way through the hideous contractions, which had ramped up 100% within 20 minutes. Eliot rushed to grab all the clean towels from the bathroom and laundry room, while I plonked myself at the end of the bed - wailing like a banshee. I somehow dialled Vanessa again, uttered something mid howl, that the car trip was off the cards due the rising cost in fuel! Ok, slight hyperbole, because the thoughts of being in a car with strong contractions seemed ridiculous due to my expanding lady garden and I was not keen on having my bundle dispatched somewhere in the depths of darkness on the side of the road! Maybe I was ambivalent about having ''side of the road'' on a birth certificate. 

Wailing proceeded, and Eliot rushed to get the camera and take a few shots because the planned photo shoot at Alexandra was not going to happen! He made his way around my back and uttered "oh, holy shit, there's a head starting to appear.'' Being pretty incoherent at this stage, I howled something about making a bigger push on the tiny human exiting my uterus. There was no time to Google "how to deliver a baby!" He rolled his sleeves up, held the exiting head, all while I gripped the edge of the bed with the intensity of a cat pulling itself out of a swimming pool and gave another push - this nugget was about to enter life outside the womb. Fortunately, human instinct kicked in, providing me with some ample adrenaline; the rush saved my bacon yet again. Eliot caught the tiny slippery human, and did well not to "drop the baby," 10 stars for Eliot and I owe him a new watch strap! Utter exhilaration swept my entire body, and I gleefully announced that I was never doing this again. Within the space of 10 minutes; all 3 midwives that had received the baby bat signal showed up with their bag of tricks; mainly hazmat cleaning gear. They declared Eliot an unofficial midwife of Central Otago. While I lay naked and half wrapped in a towel, we waited for my body to say goodbye to that other vital organ, the placenta. I had instantly lost 6kg in 20 minutes and without the aid of liposuction! The midwife super crew of Vanessa, Tegan 1 and Tegan 2 were absolute legends; a swift clean of all messes that were on the floor had vanished, thank goodness for concrete floors! Midwives are the real fairy godmothers: they're on call 24/7 and definitely don't get compensated enough for their dedication. Within 2 hours, they had taken all their baby measurements, made notes, drunk cups of tea, and departed back to their homes by 4am. 

Where are all the towels?! 

Placenta makes its way to the outside world

3 bags of sugar and then some

It's OK, little velociraptor

Midwives assembly

Introducing the new family member to my Irish clan

Eliot and I joked about how we had saved $30 on fuel but were about to use that money on the mega load of laundry that had to be done! As I came down off my birthing high, the postpartum pain started to kick in. Birth is raw and unfiltered and the female body is truly an incredible system. With a swollen lady garden and inflated breasts on the verge of needing their own ZIP code, the realisation hit me that life with two tiny humans to care for would be a new adventure. How hard could it be - humans have being doing this for eons. This was not my first baby rodeo but definitely my last.

My hairstylist is definitely more badass than yours. Life beyond the scissors.

I feel incredibly fortunate to have so many wonderful women in my life; some of the women I feel most fortunate about are relatively recent additions. Many of our greatest adventures start by taking a chance with a new friend, and this is one of my favourite aspects of life. This brings me to WOW: Women Of Wonder. I want to write about the trials and tribulations of my female friends. I'm no scholar, but I enjoy the process of putting thoughts down on paper and seeing a story unfold; besides, I've got many tales to tell! For now, here's one about a gal that ditched a closet full of high heels for a closet stacked with running shoes and created a new world of fun for herself.

I may be bold when I say that my hairstylist is more badass than yours, but I'll go for it. This affair started on the side of a mountain here in Queenstown. I'll never forget how the scene unfolded: I was out cycling on my road bike...it was a summer day, blistering hot, the smell of melting asphalt igniting my nostrils as I was out suffering...I mean, enjoying myself with some hill repeats up The Remarkables' access road. As I was making my way back down on one of my cursed laps, possibly the first one, I came upon a beauty who was making her way up the twisting pavement on her two-wheeled steed.

My eyes lit up, another woman on the same quest.. could my eyes clouded in sweat be deceiving me; perhaps it was a mirage?! As our eyes met, we somehow stopped simultaneously to say hi and things transitioned to us having a wee yarn about our favourite shades of lipstick and the latest fashion; you know, what all women talk about when they get together. It was love at first sight! NO, there was none of that nonsense, but we did chat briefly about how our day was unfolding, why we were both slogging it up a mountain access road, and how bloody hot it was. I was training for Coast to Coast and she mentioned something about having a day off from running, as her feet were aching a bit from an 80km trail run she had done the day before. WHAT? Silent thoughts in my head were, "why on earth would you be out on a bike ride the following day?" I mean, I would have been comatose, my feet up on the couch with a bowl of ice cream melting on my lap. Then again, I am a bit of a lazy athlete. Regardless, we connected via Strava (the sporting app and now possible dating app), and since our first encounter, our friendship has blossomed into a wonderful adventure bouquet. This is how I met Becky Nixon, the badass babe from Hull, Yorkshire, England. 

To pay her bills and a slight addiction to running (when I say "running," I mean ultra running), Becky happens to style hair by day and somehow doesn't seem to sit still when she's not at work. She exists in two states: she’s either in the salon or frolicking up in the mountains. The love affair for this lass with her outdoor pursuits is a spicy one, just like any good relationship ;)

The general consensus on a hairdresser's life would probably be along the lines of working in a fast-paced salon environment, scissors glistening in a mist of hair spray enhanced by fancy LED lighting, blow dryers that hum like a jet taking off in the distance, stylists draped in the latest shades of black High Street fashion, perfect hair that changes every week, and then, when Friday comes around, wine glasses filled with a refreshing Rose start making the clink at 3pm, all while they exchange a dollop of good ol' salon gossip. Hey, I could be making an extremely dubious assumption about #salonlife, but in my experience, Becky is most definitely an anomaly in the salon world.

If she's training for an ultramarathon, then she’ll rise a few hours before the sun makes an appearance, hit the gym for a weights session, or run anywhere from 5 to 35km. If it's winter, then the routine is to get a few runs in on the ski slopes before most folk are having their first cup of coffee or tea. After work activities might include another run, maybe a spin on the bike, or throw in some night skiing just to end the day on a good note. And that’s just the normal dreary days, not the big sessions!

So, how did a gal from Hull end up having a slight obsession with moving the dial on her running limit gauge? Becky is a hard bird to track down for a chat over tea and a scone, so the only way that I could trick her into divulging her race experiences to me, has been to tag along on a few gals' dates in the local hills. 

Like many of us that now call NZ home, it started with the good ol' NZ working holiday visa. Some say "tena koutou" (goodbye) after the year, and the rest, well, we've convinced NZ to let us stay and contribute to the tax system in exchange for getting to frolic in paradise. Upon arrival to New Zealand, Becky merged into Auckland CBD life for a few months. It was a fun time but she felt a void in her life. The word on the street was that there was some fun to be had down south in the mountain resort of Queenstown, so off she went.  Within a few days of having her feet on the ground in Queenstown, a job was secured at a local salon. This same salon is now her baby, where she holds the title "boss babe" at Frankton Hair along with a bevy of other hairstyling babes. 

Her days off were spent doing all the wonderful adventure things that the area has on offer. The party lifestyle was bliss, youth was in full effect, but something was missing. Surely there was more to life than fancy shampoo, salon talk, and daiquiris on the weekend. Capricious men were wasting her precious time, and the dating scene was starting to look like a bad hair-dye session. Gyms were starting to become a thing, so she signed up and got involved in all those gym class sweat sessions that were on offer. Some trainer bro at the gym bragged about all the sporting achievements on his CV, one being an Ironman triathlon, and sure enough, Becky started to think, "I'll give that a go." 

Within a few months, she had signed herself up to the local Motatapu Marathon, and that tickled her fancy, so she soon followed that up with a few other local races and then somehow decided that a full-distance triathlon was a stupendous goal. She dove in at the deep end and immersed herself into triathlon training. With the Taupo Ironman ticked off her list of "no end," she looked at focusing on running past the marathon distance. Running seemed to be a bit easier to focus on than the triathlon game. With only one discipline, less gear to burn through on the training benders, it was a solid choice. This was now her medicine - running; before work and then again, and all after a day of being on her feet at the salon! 50km training days soon became the norm, a 30km training run was like a skip in the park. Running in the mountains filled her heart a little more than perfecting salon highlights and it soon became her raison d'être. She has definitely adventured along more trails and seen the summits of more mountaintops in NZ than the average Kiwi.

The running community happens to be a lovely bunch of like-minded out-of-their-mind (in a good way) humans, so it's easy enough to get talked into a few multi-hour training runs and then before you know it, you're packing your bags to race in another country along with your new running friends. Such a great way to holiday, chicanery at it's best! So far, Becky has run in a generous handful of overseas races:

• UTA (Ultra Trail Australia) 100km x 2. Anyone who runs in Australia gets bonus points...the amount of wild critters that can end your day!

• UTMB ( Ultra-Trail Mont-Blanc) 171Km x 1. This is one of the most difficult running races in the world, Becky just did it for a good time out in the hills and in under 37hrs. No one even parties that long without a break! 

• Throw in some running race adventures in Wales and Scotland, and then add in a few weeks of off season "holiday" time in the mountains of Nepal.

As far as racing on domestic turf goes, Becky has probably done every running race in New Zealand. To list a notable few:

• The Great Naseby Water Race, 100 miles (160km). She cracked that one off in 18hrs 15mins and holds the women's record.

• The Routeburn Classic, 32.3km. She's raced it multiple times and has run the track just for a fun training day many many times.

• The Old Ghost Ultra. 85km and 2700m of ascent. 

• The Kepler Challenge, 60km and 1350m of ascent.

• The Northburn 100 miler and 100km, "a few times." 10000m of ascent. Cry me a river!

• The Ultra Easy 100km, lots of ups and downs on that one and it's usually baking hot out.

• Mt. Difficulty Ascent Marathon x 2. That race scrambles up, down, and a bit more. Most competitors don't finish under the 5hr mark.

• The Queenstown Marathon. I'd call it a “Kiwi flat” race, a few wee bumps along the way.

• The Southland Marathon, she took 1st overall woman in that and bagged herself a box of Speights for the win. 

• New Zealand 24 Hour Championship 2019. How far do you think you could run around a 400 meter track for 24hrs straight? Well, Becky knocked off 186.4km. Many cups of tea were had for that. She took out the women's division, with second place not even coming close at 131.2km. Becky happened to be 3rd overall nutter for that event!   

I write about Becky not because of her accolades, but because her tenacity while racing is remarkable, and I have seen this first hand. Earlier this year, I was fortunate to assist her during one of her 3 laps for the Northburn 100-miler, an ultramarathon held on a high country sheep station with a large marquee pitched as home base to house masochistic athletes as they streamed in at various hours of the day and night to refuel for the next lap of the race. It was 11pm when she rolled in for her final lap. She was feeling the effect of the sleep fairies by 100km, and I'll add that the fairies are no joke: they do crazy shit to a sleep deprived mind, like making you unsure if you’ve been sitting for 20 minutes or have just sat down, or make you question whether you need to eat or hydrate, or even make you wonder where the hell you are. You get the picture, this is why you have assistance: it’s assurance that you’ll have enough supplies to survive when you go back out into the proverbial abyss.

So anyhow, Becky was indeed starting to question herself on why she signed up for the big one. By the time I talked her off the ledge and shovelled some tea and biscuits into her engine, she was firing on all cylinders to crack off the last 60km lap. And out she went into a night sky illuminated by a magical aurora. She would spend the night running under the spell of a celestial masterpiece, no biggie, right! When morning rolled around she crossed the line with a smile on her face (a face covered in sweat and dust), but a smile nonetheless to offset all the sweat and aches. She had been on the go for 28hrs and had a top 5 finish in the women's division. This is a race that had a DNF (did not finish) rate of 41%. Suffering is inevitable during these pursuits -  sore muscles, blisters, and the possible loss of a toenail or three, but the joy it brings when you cross a finish line unleashes a rush of dopamine. This is what drives athletes to seek more of that feeling. It’s getting “high” in a pure and legal fashion! Becky’s ability to see her goal across the finish line is exceptional. This holds true to her time spent at the salon, as she works hard, enjoys what she does and is bloody fantastic at it! She is a great friend to have, has a heart of gold surrounded with sparkles, and possesses boundless ebullience. She happens to be an exceptional athlete with great hair, go figure!

At the end of the day, life should be all about the ability to enjoy the trail that we pursue. If you're not keen on that trail, then it's OK to shift gears; either up or down, take the high route, take the low. It's even OK to not be on a trail; go off trail and get caught up in some thorny stuff but just keep moving. Whatever you do, make sure you know what your worth is, be like Becky Nixon and fall in love with what it feels like to be alive and free, whether it’s effectuated in a pair of runners or not. So, the next time you're in the salon chair, just think, you might be in the hands of a secret superhero, a devious dominatrix, or a straight up badass bitch :)

The Best Sandwich of my Life - a Sneaky Peek into Birthing a Tiny Human

Today is a celebration of the first year of being a parent. I've had so many days of wanting to finish a blog post to relay my experience of pregnancy, and the little marshmallow's journey from being nurtured in my womb and then, like all good marshmallows, exploding onto Planet Earth! So here it is in all its glory.

I'll be honest; I never had a deep longing to have a baby. It finally took being with the man of my dreams for 10 years before I warmed up to the thought of going through the process. Okay, I might be exaggerating a little; I knew that Eliot was the golden ticket from the get go, but it was just a matter of when it felt right to add a little human into our lives. Was I prepared to incubate a baby for 9 months...nope. As organised as one may be (not I), I don't think you can be fully prepared for the process. It's a trip and a half, no two days are the same, and I'm not sure why women want to repeat the pregnancy journey multiple times. Evolution has its way of making us forget quite quickly any pain and suffering that may be related to the pregnancy train. I've decided to give an up front and honest account of what's it's like to squeeze a baby out your lady garden (thanks Kath), and for me it was mostly au naturel. No meds, apart from a bit of gas, and my delivery was though the lady garden hole. No apologies here with this account, and if you're offended easily, stop reading now. This is my account and yes, everyone's experience is quite different.

Riding into this pregnancy rodeo in my 30s was a smart move on my behalf. I had a blast in my 20s, as travelling brought plenty of self-discovery and I've found myself in some pretty unique settings. Some of my experiences are a story in themselves, so I'll save those for another time. There was no way in hell that I was having a baby during my roaring 20s! Then comes 30, and before you know it, you're getting to the age where your doctor asks "are you thinking of having a baby?" Because you're getting to an age where risks are higher with conception and other assorted pregnancy things. There's plenty of fun and not so fun facts when it comes to having a baby. Go nuts with your internet searches, and just decide what's best for you.

Let's do a quick preview of pregnancy in general before we dive into the gory details. In general life timeline things, 9 months is not really a long time, but when you're growing a human...you feel like you've been pregnant for well over a decade. Morning sickness - all day, every day for the first 3 months. Feeling exhausted on a daily basis but somehow finding the energy to keep going, all while still having that sick feeling for months 4, 5, and 6 (am I selling this yet?). Make some new baby mamma friends along the way, create a Messenger thread that allows you and your new friends to complain about all things "pregnant" at 3am - can't sleep, I can't stomach any more Gaviscon, and when shall the tiredness go away? Oh, that's right...probably never! Then, the final 3 months of having a lot more energy, ecstatically enjoying food again, and then slowing down the last few weeks because you feel like how a beached sea lion looks....oh, throw in some weird facial blotches, with swollen legs 'n feet and you've got fun times in preggo camp.

The biggest knockers I've ever had!

I stayed pretty focused on keeping my fitness up to par as much as I could. I ran up until about 5 months, then it felt uncomfortable and I was over having to pee every 4 minutes. Biking was fine until about 7 months, then I just started to look ridiculous, again, like that beached sea lion, and I was concerned about taking a fall. So that left swimming and walking. I swam right up to my due date. It was my only escape and the sense of being relaxed in the water was great for my mindset. I'm pretty proud to say that I did flip turns in the pool for the entire duration. I was determined to flip turn this baby out!

Then yes, finally D-day arrives; it's 3 days past my due date, to be exact. "To be expected for a first timer" said my friend and midwife, Suzanne. The cat knew something was up days ago; he snuggled in beside me every time I sat down.

The timeline goes a bit like so:
00:00- Things start to kick off. I'm feeling like a squeezed accordion. I start the timer on my phone and hope I get some sleep during the night. Wishful thinking. Mr. Kitty stays by me throughout the night in the spare room, while I moan like that aforementioned beached sea lion. (For the men: these muscular flip outs feel like really bad period pains. For you, it may be like getting punched in the lower abdomen every 10(ish) mins and then as the day goes by, that pain increases while the timeframe decreases between each punch....think Conor McGregor getting angry because you keep standing on his nice new shiny white designer sneakers, so he delivers a mean punch to your abs until you're TKOed. Ouchy ouch.)

08:00- Call to midwife, Suzanne. Explain the night. No panic just yet, but have your bag ready just in case.

09:30- Call to midwife. Explain the past hour.  It's probably time to get yourself to the birthing facility. Our choice was Charlotte Jean in Alexandra, only a 45-minute drive away. Drive hard Eliot.

10:15- Arrival to baby catching facility. One baby bag and 3 bags of camera gear - check.
Welcome to a lovely wee house that looks like your Kiwi nan's gaff, but inside, there's a magical baby catching room with a big bath, a bed, and a few other medical-looking devices. All these items are really just props to hold onto during the day, all while you find some new position in order to gain a little comfort in between these ever-increasing hideous contractions.

12:00- Time spent in the birthing pool is delightfully calming but it starts to slow the contractions down, so I'm turfed out and told I have to start working hard if I want to avoid a 3.5hr trip to Dunedin. It turns out I'm being a lazy labour lady... could have fooled me! Lunch time for Suzanne, nurse Glenda, and husband/photographer. No food for me...last thing on my mind...pass the whiskey, I mean, water, thanks! Dilation at about 2cm.

Check out all the props! 

Suzanne gives me a reassuring smile.

Sufferfest

Eliot, you are not my friend right now!

14:00- Where did those 2 hours go?? Oh, that's right...holding onto multiple items, while complaining about the pain and pregnancy in general. Note: midwife Suzanne is constantly monitoring my state, making notes, and in general, being awesome. No big moves on dilation, but I'm making advances towards 4cm.

15:30- Informed by my awesome baby catcher, Suzanne, that my waters haven't broken. Time to get the ball rolling on freeing those waters. This procedure is called an amniotomy. Think knitting needle device into vagina to break the amniotic sac that surrounds the little human. Yes, pray that your waters will break naturally because this feeling is, well, horrendous!

16:00- Me: "What's happening now, is this thing (the baby) almost out?" Suzanne: "No, we might need to move you to Dunedin." Me: "F*% that, I'm not going to a hospital." Push harder. Eliot is being a good husband, rubbing my head and back and giving words of encouragement. Secretly, I want to punch him. He's half the reason I'm here with an expanding vagina. Have shower, sit on toilet, and move back to floor. Cervical dilation: 6cm.

A yoga mat has many uses.

17:00- Move to bed. Howling like a banshee and making sure that Eliot is documenting my turmoil.
Note: A banshee is, in Irish legend, a female spirit whose wailing warns of death. This probably came about from very drunk people stumbling by houses after pub closing hours - where they heard some poor woman in labour while channeling her inner animal. I'm a woman, hear me roar!

17:30- Surrounding residential homes must think that someone is being murdered. Pass the gas, I need something to take the edge off. Note; I haven't eaten since 8pm the night before, starting to feel tired at this stage and having a Red Bull is not an option. At this point, an IV drip is the best option to keep me hydrated as much as possible. Cervical dilation: 8cm.

I'm definitely hurting here.

18:00- Very tired and this is not over. Lights, camera, action. Eliot capturing my moments of despair. Gas is not doing much, apart from making me feel like I just smoked a joint (something I may or may have not done is my younger years). Suzanne asking if I'm ok with this camera thing...I nod, yes. I want record of this. Silent thoughts - I'm never doing this again!

18:30- On bed - on my knees, gripping bed frame so tight, my swollen hands are white-knuckled! Words of encouragement from the team down below. Cervix is dilating nicely and we're almost to 10cm.

  At least the curtains are closed.                                          

18:45- Voices down below tell me that there's a head appearing. Oh sweet baby Jesus, is the end near?! Nurse Glenda is holding my hand, she too may have lost sensation in her hand due to my unavoidable death grip. My inner banshee is now in full force; the surrounding neighbourhood has definitely turned their TVs up a few decibels. I'm now in the zone, sweating like I'm at spin class, and the sensation in the lady garden is so intense, I'm not sure if I'm having a monumental poop or actually pushing out a baby. The burning ring of fire has increased considerably; this may be my perineum tearing/ripping/shredding...don't care, relief is imminent, baby must come out.

Scientists at work.

Welcome out little baby!

18:50- The hormonal drive throughout my body is something that I have nothing to compare to. I push with every last Joule that I have left in my body and then it happens; slip n' slide, she's out, full noise too! A wave of calmness overcomes my body, I turn around and plonk my exhausted self on my back. A quick wipe down of baby and she's placed on my chest. There are no thoughts, just extreme relief and jubilation as I hold my little human that has finally decided to join us all in this world. She is tiny, warm, and in my eyes - perfect! Still attached is the umbilical cord; its alien-like coil attached her to me for 9 months, where it nourished my little parasite and gave her everything she needed. Now it was time for her to move onto better things. Within 15 minutes of hanging out on my lower chest, she wriggles her way up to my exploding mammary glands. My ridiculously large areola are now her beacon to her new feeding friends.

It's ok, little velociraptor.

E2.

Two days of hanging out at The Charlotte Jean Maternity BnB was a wonderful way to get to know our new spawn. The staff do a fantastic job of making sure you are comfortable and giving guidance on everything baby, or at least inform as best they can to make you feel confident about getting home with your bundle of joy. Our experience here was delightful. Our midwife, Suzanne was so wonderful during our journey towards parenthood. She is an incredible human and a dedicated nurse to her profession. The women/men of this profession do not get enough credit for the endless hours committed to their clients. This in itself is another blog for another day.

We always knew we were having a girl; it was nice keeping that one secret to ourselves. Now we get to announce her to our eagerly waiting family and friends. I just completed the biggest achievement of my life to date, and it's just the beginning. Eliot and I are responsible for someone apart from ourselves...what have we gotten ourselves into?! It's ok, we're not alone, humankind has been doing this for millennia. I'm asked what I would like, and I'm so hungry that I could eat 2 sandwiches, which I do, and wash them down with a cup of tea. It's the best sandwich I've ever had in my life. Just look :)

Feeding time.

Kat 'Badass' Bulk

Since getting my feet moist (gotta love that word) in the adventurous world of multisport, I have made some fantastic new friends and have gotten to explore amazing terrain down here on the South Island. I've a lot more "Newzealanding" to do, and I get a bit antsy thinking that I'm not going to have enough time, but all great things do take some time to achieve, just like training for a race. In the meantime, I got to thinking one day while hanging out on top of some amazing peak (there's too many amazing peaks for me to keep track of down here). Anyhoo, I decided that I really should write about the amazing friends that I've made, mainly the girls (sorry fellas). There's enough well known male athletes down here in NZ (yawn) and I really want to get exposure on the badass babes that roam the hills and do some other cool shit. I'll call this Chapter 1 of my new blog; BABS (badass babes). There may be the odd bloke guest blog along the way, depending on how much exposure the blog beast gets. Please share (wink wink).

One of my female buds is a blonde bombshell called Kat Bulk. Kat is a hard bird to pin down, because when she is not sleeping, she is either working or out conquering some nasty spaniard-tussock mountains.

Today, she is out on her second slaying of Coast to Coast -The Longest Day. Last week, I managed to get her in a headlock and ask her some questions, and she even agreed to have her photo taken! Thanks for the photos Eliot. Click on Eliot's name after you read this for some great writing and photos :)

Anyone who has trained for Coast to Coast, or any other race that seems like a life mission, knows that it takes a shit load (we can say "shit" down here in NZ) of commitment, training, spending money on gear, eating mounds of food, and driving yourself to races or places in order to train with other like minded people, alas, if only money trees were real. Your friends probably think you are nuts (and you somewhat are) and they may never get what you do, will never know what is like to exert your muscles, feel your heart work hard, and be rewarded with ecstatic feelings of triumph when you are on top of a mountain, and that's ok! As long as you are healthy and happy, that's all that matters.

Sponsorship on these kinds of events helps a ton, so Kat would like to give a shout out to the following.  Just click on those names to satisfy your curiosity, you will probably be educated from doing so. CLICK ON THE NAMES!

Fergs Kayaks, Barracuda Kayaks, and Gurney Goo

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Game face :)

Full name: Kathryn Christina Bulk

Place of Birth: Dunedin

Current home: Queenstown

We all know that work is overrated, but what do you do to pay the bills?: 

I actually love my job, I am a Land Surveyor, I work for awesome bosses who totally get that I need to do some serious adventuring at least 3 times a week

Your first race: Kiwi Kids Triathlon, waaaay back in the day, more recently it was the Routeburn Classic 2013

Your toughest race: There have been a few pinchy ones, 80km ultra with torn quads, Longest Day 2016 (aptly named race) and 12 hour Pisa Rogaine, it's never fun getting broken

Best hard-to-get-to location: Joe River behind the Barrier Range

NZ weather can be: calm and windless, although it's possible this is some sort of shared delusion

When adventuring, you always have: Gurney Goo (and not just 'cos I am sponsored), some sort of ridiculous SPF lip balm in your pack

Fill in the blanks: Without exercise I would be a wolverine!

Best training advise that you've been given or can give: Never forget to find the joy and the beauty in what we do, we are privileged to be fit enough and curious enough to explore the corners and the edges of our planet, our physiology and our psyche, train hard, but train smart so you can get the very best of all three!

If there was a 100 meter egg and spoon race between Steve Gurney and All Blacks skipper Kieran Read; who would win and why? Totally Gurney; he would come up with some sort of elegant and ingenious invention to secure egg to spoon, probably psyching Read out, and then sneakily taking the victory....inventions may include jet propulsion or some sort of catapult and parachute deployment device 

After this years C2C race, what are you most looking forward to doing?

Race-wise - Routeburn Classic 2017

Training-wise - some solid paddling in my awesome new boat ;-) and recovering strong so I can start hitting some mega expeditions again soon, forming a healthier relationship with my mountain bike, skiing, might also be time to learn to surf

Life-wise - adventuring with G-Man, catching a massive snapper, and missioning with my awesome posse of crazy adventurer mates

Travel-wise - hitting up some international races (did someone mention matterhorn marathon?)

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The best backyard view

As Kat makes her way from west coast to east coast today, there will be lots going through her mind. All the hours of training that have accumulated into many days, that eventually become standard somewhat-hazy days, can't determine how your race day will go. You plan your race out in your head and put yourself in the right race day frame of mind, but no matter how much training you do, you can't control the weather, a flat tyre, or an injury.

It truly ends up being more of a mental race rather than a physical one, but you better be in the shape of your life for an adventure like Coast to Coast; it's not called The Longest Day for shits and giggles (I know from experience). You eventually settle into a rhythm and forget what position you are in, you find yourself becoming more in the moment and realizing how fortunate you are to be in a position to compete in a race like this. You know that all your hard work is paying off, no matter the outcome.

I know my friend Kat will do a fantastic job today and she will be proud in doing so. The support from her crew, her family and friends cheering for her will outweigh the results. To complete a race like this is a massive achievement and as any Kiwi who's into all things outdoors knows, it's a rite of passage. It will have you chomping at the bit for more.!

I'll leave you with one of my favorite quotes - "Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional" - Haruki Murakami

I think this applies to most things in life if ya think about it. 

The Coast to Coast 2016 aka...

.... on the road to making it as a hard-ass psuedo Kiwi.

New Zealanders are a tough bunch and are pretty game for most sporting endeavors. There are vast mountain ranges and rivers that run through places inaccessible by any means. There are forests so dense that I'm sure that no human has ever seen or set foot on their soil and I reckon because of this...there are Moa still out there! So with all this bountiful terrain, why not have a race that lets one explore the greatness of what New Zealand has on offer. Sure all you need is a map, a few snacks, a good sense of humor and good sense in general. Sport is a big part New Zealand culture; you know it's not all about rugby (I swear) and there are plenty of other sports that New Zealanders excel in and have put this great nation on the map. As far as a country with a population less than the population of Ireland goes, this is stellar work. (I just threw that in as a good reference...not because of rugby and beer consumption). Anyhow, multi-sport is a big part of N-Zeds get out there and give it a go attitude, it involves a few different skills throughout the event, it's usually run, bike, kayak, throw in some navigation skills and you are away for fun time...promise :P

The New Zealand Coast to Coast is an iconic multi-sport event that is older than the Hawaiian Ironman (yeah, put that in your US IM tri hole). Some adventurous bloke and a few mates living on the South Island decided that it would be fun to make their way from the West coast to the East coast, time themselves in doing so, and then officially call it a race. The inaugural event was in 1982 and was done in 2 days covering 243km. The greatness of this course was it was all self powered by foot, bike, and kayak. This race is going strong to this day and has gained international recognition. You have your choice of doing it in one or two days, solo, 2 person team or a 3 person team. Even if you don't want to do the whole thing, you can just do the run. Yes, something for everyone.

I first heard about this race almost 10yrs ago from a Kiwi bloke that I worked with, and thought he was telling me a yarn until I looked it up. It remained stored in the depth of my cerebrum as something I needed to do, but I was pretty good at always saying "next year." So when Eliot and I moved back to NZ in 2014, I promised myself that I would do it within 2yrs. Then one night in September 2015 at 11:58 pm, I signed up online for the one day race and the rest is history.

So in November I decided leave my fun job at AJ Hackett Bungy here in Queenstown and put a little more time into training and enjoy a summer of being outside... a lot. It not an easy thing to do - quit work, not have a steady income, and know that you'll miss the social aspect of working with a good bunch of people. Eliot was supportive and promised that he wouldn't let me go hungry.

I had my bike and run somewhat sorted but the new venture was going to be handling a multi-sport kayak. With a bit of research and local guidance, I was directed to the good people at the Southern Lakes Multisport Club and they allowed me to borrow one of the club's boats. Spending a lot of my time in Lake Wakatipu, I gained more confidence and strength by the day. Then I signed myself up for a mandatory grade 2 kayak certification with Bill Godsall. I had no idea that this down to earth guy is a bit of a legend in the multi-sport community, so Kiwi-like. Do not underestimate any guy or gal at fun local events because they could be either an ex-olympian or in general a beast of an athlete.

The summer weeks flew by and my tan was coming along nicely from being outside (Irish people do tan you know) and before I knew it, February was flashing at me. I managed to squeeze in a kayak day on the Waimakrairi river with a local group, make some new like minded friends and give myself a wee taste of what lay ahead. Then 2 weeks before race day, I tackled the run section solo (don't forget your beacon if going solo). The 33km run is mainly off trail with a rocky riverbed for most of the up part. Multiple river crossings with chilly river water has your feet nice and wet for most of the way, throw in an elevation gain of nearly 800m to get to Goat Pass, and then your legs really start to burn on the the descent but the views are sensational. Coordination and strength are good skills to acquire. It was good to get a grasp of what lay ahead come race day.

Following the well-laid out rules and race information on the C2C website, I felt pretty ready come race week, the hay was in the the barn. After some serious interviewing for suitable crew, it was going to be Eliot and his dad Daryl, only because they were willing to work for beers! My whole approach was pretty laid back,  I had all my gear and food set, we all knew where we had to be and it was going to be a fun day. Bahahahaha...fun.

The following part is going to be a picture storyboard. Photos are a more lighthearted approach to explaining a race and realistically the reader starts to lose interest after 2 minutes. Hopefully you have made it this far. 

West coast. Pre-race mandatory meeting at Kumara racecourse and final preparation.

Marking out the vodka bottles over the H2O/electrolyte bottles. One can't get too tipsy too early!

Sunset at Kumara Race course. Camping here was the cheaper option and it was pretty cool. 


Just some Kiwi bathroom counseling. No buts!

The race started a 6am, and by 7:40am the first group of cycling cheetahs arrive into T2 after blasting out 55km- then off the bike and straight into a 33km run. No biggie.

My gang, about 20 mins behind the first group. We were admiring the sunrise...at least I was.

No mollycoddling here. The best support crews give honest advice!

1 guess who's my support crew! No-one else had to worry about sandflies. This was my boost at T2 for the mountain run section...thanks Eliot!


Finally a flat section to run on! Only 1km to T3, then back on the bike for 15km. I felt grand, not my fastest run, holding 10th place, no aches/blisters and I was ready to hammer on.

The burger and beer drop off crew.

The Drake cowboy support crew.

My legs decided they were actually worked from the 33km run, so I had a very slow 15km bike ride; I don't think I ate enough. At least the sun is out and Eliot is still in his speedos.

Ah sure it's not that far in fairness and it's a grand day for it. F**k off!


Giddy up.

    See y'all soon (ish)! 67KM of down river :)


Tired souls making their way to Gorge bridge.


Last corner, promise!

These guys ran out of fuel, so I had to tow them along. Ok ok, they gave me some amazing encouragement. I was feeling a bit down at this stage, I picked up 2 cracks on my kayak at a rapid, took on water, did a few bail outs, cried a little but now 67km was in the bag. I had been on the water for 6.5hrs. Cry me a river, literally! Dig deep Murphy.

Gorge Bridge take-out. T4- now back on the bike for 70km!

East Coast. Doneskis! People waited...epic. That was a f**cking long day. 

The support that competitors receive from family and friends for an event like this is truly remarkable. The months of training that one undertakes involves a lot of self motivation, willpower, and sacrificed time with family and friends. Even though it's an expensive venture, it's rewarding on both a physical and emotional level. A race like this is no joke and I feel fortunate to have been able to achieve another 'to-do' event. The people you meet along the way are really wonderful and I have gained new friendships. If you are up for a challenge and not scared to suffer a bit, remembering that it builds character, then sign yourself up to some 'suffering is optional' fun!

I am thankful for my support team, Eliot; Daryl; Lauren 1; Chase, who took some fun pictures along the way; Lauren 2; and Maureen. My mom too, she waited on my ass during training sessions when she was supposed to be relaxing on her NZ vacation. A big thank you to all my wonderful friends at AJ Hackett Bungy, they are the rainbow in a rainy day.

I wrote a little email to the C2C folk. It sums up my day without writing a book!

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Dear wonderful people of C2C,

You have no idea how grateful I am to have been able to finish a race like the C2C. To the crew involved, whether you were on the payroll or a volunteer for the event: having people like you out there keeping the fire lit for all the competitors and their support crew, was one of the highlights of my day. Like most, my day started out pretty great; I was feeling fresh and stoked to have made it to the start line with intact body and mind. I was ready for a day self-powered transportation across the country. As the day progressed, competitors were greeted with smiles and enthusiasm at every manned safety point or race check point by happy go lucky folk. This was most excellent for race morale.

My day (and I'm sure I'm not the only one), took an interesting turn on the kayak section at one of the more troublesome spots, Rock Garden #3. I braced, and when I did so, my quads seized hard, which had me going one way, and that was upside down! The safety crew were on the ball there and had me to shore in no time along with my kayak. Becs and her water warriors made sure I was OK and then we checked out my trusty steed, which I had named "Póg mo thóin" (that's Irish for "kiss my ass"). I don't think the Waimak took kindly to that name and hence the river gods threw me out! Anyhow, the boys patched the two cracks that Póg had gotten and we all agreed that I'd be fine, but I might have to stop to empty her out. It was my decision no matter what. So back in I got and continued down the river on my journey. To cut a long story short, my food had turned to fish food and my spirit gradually faded too. I just made the Woodstock cutoff and decided there was simply no giving up, and I fought a big mental battle at this stage. Being hungry is not a good thing!

The jet-boat lads were the best and they kept me going, and by the time I rounded the corner at Gorge Bridge and saw all those lovely faces smiling and clapping me in, I was jubilant. There were a few minutes of wondering if I was going to be allowed to finish the race, but I was asked how I felt and was advised that the C2C crew were behind me to the finish if I wanted to keep going. My spirits were up and my body felt good, and I think my ass was pretty happy to be out of the kayak! I shoveled some much needed calories into my mouth, threw a leg over the bike, and pedaled off into the sunset. Luckily had I my shit together with my night lighting, and I'm pretty sure the safety truck appreciated that. I just kept moving; I had no concept of time by this point and I just followed the arrows along the road. Along the way, I was consistently cheered on by C2C traffic control, to whom I apologized for keeping them out longer than they should have been. A few random passersby honked their horns, and I was just thankful not to have a Speights bottle or a half-eaten burger thrown at me! 

So then it happened: I finally reached the end, and I was assisted off by bike by a bunch of energetic high school kids, who helped me take off my bike shoes and told me to go get my beer and celebrate my achievement. I had no idea that anyone would be left at the finish line; I thought you would all be across the street at the pub. The welcoming party was the icing on the cake, I ran down the chute and up those steps feeling like a champ. Dickie and Steveo congratulated me, asked me how I was feeling (fucking hungry!) and chatted for a few minutes. Some other nice guy had kept me two burgers; I inhaled one and I sat down with the biggest smile on my face. I may have completed the C2C 2016, but honestly I don't think I would have if it were not for the wonderful crew that kept everyone's spirit alive throughout the day, especially mine. To be involved with a race like this is a fantastic notch on the adventure belt. Know that you all hold a special place in my heart. I might even see you next year or in the not too distant future ;)

A massive warm Irish thank you! 

Whakawhetai koe

Lots of sandfly love,

Paddy-last aka Ethel Murphy