This was my first time racing the 100km distance, so I was super excited! The training block leading up to the Northburn went well; I was working seven days a week to save for travel later on that year, so I combined a lot of commuting with running and squeezed in as much hill work as I could. I was a bit nervous as the course profile had 6000m of climbing over 100km. Finally, my last big run was done, my ITB was strapped up, I’d packed my bags, finished my last client of the day, and then it was 4:30 am on Friday, and I was driving down to Cromwell to meet up with my French running buddies. Despite the car breaking down, a nasty cold, and not feeling very flash, I took that as a good sign that race day would be good. After the funniest race briefing I had ever attended by Terry, I swam in the lake and had an early night in my tent. I almost slept through my alarm and just made it to the 6 am start. The first loop was pretty straight up and straight down. I worked through ticking off aid stations, and before I knew it was late afternoon, raining, and I was 80km in, pushing up a big hill to the highest point. The climbs went on forever! Thankfully the 100km runners weren’t sent down the loop of despair. My quads were completely wrecked as I bombed down the steep slope; the lights of Cromwell were in the distance, and the dark sky was covered in clouds. The last 5km was a track, and I could hear the music of the finish long before I saw it. I managed to hang on to a decent pace and sprinted the last hundred metres to the finish. 1^st place female! Pretty happy with that! I stuck around to support other runners and didn’t get to bed until the next day. Overall, the Northburn has been my favourite race :)

In mid July 2024, right before my clinical exams as a final year osteopath student, I decided it would be a great time to sign up to the WUU2K (Wellington Urban Ultra). As I was pretty flat out studying and cramming general medicine and pathophysiology, the next thing I knew, it was 4 am and I was eagerly standing on a cold, windy tarmac in Wellington Airport. It was 7 degrees, and the weather report was southerly gales. I hadn’t had time to get a headtorch, so I found a kid's spare one that was a raccoon. The officials at the race village were not impressed. The next morning, I reckoned I'd waste time getting my rain jacket back in my pack, so I opted to shiver in a singlet and shorts while the rain and wind made me super keen for the starting gun to go off. The first climb was straight up from Khandalla in some slippery mud. For a 65km run, I was surprised by the sprint start, and unfortianley turned out, the raccoon did not cooperate as a light. This led to a cut-up knee as I took a tumble onto some rocks. The next 40km was super hilly and typical Wellington, and a fair bit of mud! I felt my left hamstring grinding to nothing as we churned through the kms. At the aid station before the final big climb, I felt knackered but keen to keep in the race. There was some pretty sweet homemade baking at the top of the hill. As I clung on the last 10km through Wellington, I remember thinking that I would never do these walks for fun (was scarred after that), surprising, I guess running is a full body sport, my shoulder got pretty sore and I couldn’t move it, so I was stoked when I could hear the cheering of the finish line and managed to sprint across the line. 3^rd female, but it had sure been a day. All I can say is windy Wellington didn’t disappoint. Then I was kinda stuck in the rain as I didn’t know anyone there and didn’t have any clothes on me, so I did the sensible thing and went to the closest pub!    

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It's 2024, I’m 21 years old, about to head back to uni next week. As I’d never run an ultra before, but last minute changed from the Tawawera relatively flat 21k to the Shotover ultra with a fair bit of vert, I was thinking how hard can it be? I saw I'd have to have a hydration pack and having never used any gear before (usually just head out and hope for the best), I found a pack on FB marketplace and popped round to pick it up.. “56km is a few k’s.” Richard (the chap I got the pack off remarked with a concerned expression as he handed over his well-loved ultimate direction pack, which I still use to this day. ahh yup..

My last run before the race, I managed to sprain my LCL and couldn’t run full stop, so I wasn’t off to a great start. The next morning, I shoved some pink strapping tape into my bag, a singlet and shorts, and not much else, then told dad that “it’ll either be a good time or a good story,’ before nervously cruising down to Queenstown in my Hilux Surf.

Terry, the race director, did not inspire great confidence as he remarked after. “No offense, but we thought you’d be our first DNF,” he cheerfully said.

I wasn’t really sure what to do with myself, so I slept in the back of my truck and ate some apples I'd found on the drive. The next morning, I woke up and my first thought was I really actually didn’t feel like running today.. great. It was kinda cold, and there was a thick fog at Moke Lake. I wandered over to the start line in a fluffy jumper and my hunting and fishing fleece pants. There were no girls to be seen. The start of the ultra was just hardy looking grim, middle-aged men. What was I in for?? Eventually, some extreme-looking girls turned up, and then it was the start, and I reluctantly stripped down to a singlet and shorts, and we were off. It was actually a stunning morning, and I could hear the helicopters overhead as they shuttled the marathon runners up to their start line. A couple of hours later, we were starting the main climb as the sun was up. Wow, such a stunning country! I started to feel super hyperglycemic and realized I probably should have woken up earlier to eat something before the race. I was also super tired, and we were only at 20km. I'd already decided that I'd only make it to the halfway point, then would definitely have to pull out. Also realised why I was the only one in road-running shoes as we bombed down a slippery, steep descent into the valley. At the 30km aid station, the guys there were white with dried sweat, and no one had any energy to talk. It was about 30 degrees in a hot, sheltered valley. I ran up the next hill; it was hot and hard. At 42km, there was an aid station, and I remember telling the marshal don’t tell mum I'm taking some of these airplanes. He laughed. I was super happy running out of here as the lady told me I was in 2^nd place! The next memorable moment was running a water race with a tough ultra runner who told me this is where it sucks, and you hurt, and it's hard and hot, but you don’t give up. Sheet he was having a day! I left him to it and ran a sporty 10k back to the finish. I was super happy and felt smashed but in a good way, if that makes sense! 3^rd place. My first ultra race, and I felt like I'd left everything on the course. I threw myself in the lake, and the rest of the day was a blur, either due to a pub crawl or the sudden hit of alcohol to my already severely dehydrated system. As I limped back to my truck at 6 a.m. the next morning after kick-ons, I remember thinking the sunrise was so pretty and purple! Well, I guess it was my first ultra race, but now it also didn’t turn out to be my last!