I wish I had re-read Peak to Pub 2023 before I signed up again this year.
I better copy/paste in what Peak to Pub is before I go on.
It starts with getting to the summit of Mt Hutt, an hour or so's drive east
of Christchurch.
Then you run, in snow gear, for what seems like
forever but is only about 200m or so.
Now you ski (or snowboard) 7km
from the very top to the very bottom of the skifield.
You drop your
skis and change your shoes, and jump on a mountain bike.
You hurtle
16km down the ski road, which is rutted, gravelly and usually muddy and
icy.
Now you dump your bike and start running.
You run for 10
kilometres.
Then, just for fun, you have to swim across a canal.
Now
you run for another two kilometres to Methven township.
To the pub.
Last year I'd started with a damaged Achilles, and finished with a calf strain
to match. "Unfinished business", I'd said at the time. Now I knew what to expect, how to manage the
logistics, and with the aim of bettering my time since I'd be hitting the
slopes fit and uninjured.
"I knew what to expect". Telling words.
Thu, Fri, Sat morning - the preparation
This year our party consisted of: me and fellow competitor Ana, along with
Angela, Ana's partner Daniel, and Toby and Tessa. A bike rental from Big Al's made everything so much easier, not to mention their bike was a lot
better than mine.
Thursday night saw us in Christchurch, staying at the Coachman Inn. Friday
morning we picked up Toby and Tessa and headed west to to Pudding Hill Lodge, our fav place to stay since forever. The weather today was terrible so we
mooched around Methven and at our enormous place, relaxing and catching up
with each other. Fri night was a trip into town to check out the bike - great
news, they were going to stage it on the mountain for me! - getting our skis
tuned, doing the race registration, and enjoying the Blue Pub's hospitality.
Early night for us to be fit and ready for tomorrow.
Saturday is race day. While Angela Tessa and Toby stayed down the hill, 7am
saw me packed into Ana and Daniel's truck and hurtling up the hill.
The plan was to have a quiet morning and not tire ourselves out - but a mostly
clear day (light mist would blow in and out) and oodles of fresh powder put
paid to that. We did lap after lap of the summit six, moving across the face
under Virgin mile to keep finding fresh untouched powder run after fresh
untouched powder run. After a speed run of the afternoon course, decided we
just had to stop at 11am or else we'd be completely exhausted.
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| I mean, how could we not? |
Skiing is quite different on your body to snowboarding. While snowboarding is
a full body workout, skiing is all quads and all cardio. My quads were
burning at the end of each run but it was just too good to stop.
Finally we thought that 11am was a good time to just end it, because if we
didn't we'd just keep going. We had an early lunch. Suddenly warm mist rolled
in. Would we be able to see?!
Daniel headed back down the hill early, and Ana and I awaited our
briefing.
We wandered outside, just below the ski-bike transition in the 4WD carpark to
the true left of the learner chairlift. All straightforward but rigorous and
key points emphasised with humour.
One chairlift ride to the top, and a 'course inspection' run so we could see where the
gates were. Another ride to the top and a long walk to the South Peak where we
would start. Nothing to do now but wait. And try to control the nerves.
The Ski
Boom! The shotgun fired and my wave was off.
First up is the dreaded ski boot run. It was horrible, but not as horrible as
last year, and instead of finishing dead last, I kept up with the people
around me. Maybe because it was mostly slightly downhill. Maybe because I was
fitter. Maybe because I'd undone my ski boots. Maybe because I didn't have a
ruined Achilles this time!
I found my skis and clipped in, all nice and straightforward, then hurtled off
the cat track to hit the Fascination - Broadway run. Last year we had a
truncated ski run because the gale force winds stopped them from opening the
main lift. This year it was a decent run. I quickly left all the non-skiers
behind and had a mostly clear run until near the end. But my quads were not
responding like they should after the hours of powder runs. My speed was
limited by how hard I could crank the turns. Last year we were all by ourselves since the mountain was closed; this year spectators lined the course yelling and cheering. I felt like a proper athlete! After a few minutes I was at the
bottom, out of my skis and running to the bike transition.
The bike
It all went wrong on the ski-bike transition. It was chaos with bikes and
skis and bags everywhere. My bin bag with my trail runners was not where I left
it, and I spent fruitless minutes searching for a black bag in amongst hundreds
of other black bags. And then I couldn't find my bike either. Same deal, looking
for a bike I'd seen once amongst hundreds of other bikes. I'd assumed all the
Big Al's bikes would be in the one place and really obvious but that was not the
case.
So if you rent a bike - don't assume. Find it at 11am when it arrives, and put
your bag underneath it. Basic stuff really.
After 10 minutes of wandering about looking for two needles in an
enormous haystack I finally reunited myself with bag and bike, and got myself
changed into trailrunners. Off I set.
The bike run was terrifying and terrible. It all started having to pass a guy
out cold on the ground (with people tending to him) and then just after that
someone who must of been a friend of his decided to turn sharply right, right
in front of me. I screamed in terror. She straightened up again. Whew.
Then, I hit the fog. And the mud. This is where things got really terrible. No
viz. Soft mud steadily coating my goggles. Just following the left side of the
road and trying not to crash or be crashed into. I eventually stopped and took
off my goggles, and just had to blink lots as a steady stream of mud coated
every inch of me. Every now and then mud coated my contact lenses and I lost
vision again, I had to just keep heading in the same direction and blink
frantically to get my eyesight back.
Finally it dawned on me that things weren't absolutely terrible anymore and
that I'd emerged from both the fog and the mud. I was concentrating so hard on
not crashing that it took a while for that to sink in.
The rest of the the ride was okay. I could see, I wasn't getting covered
in mud, I had trust in my tyres on this surface. Down the hill I went, letting
my heart rate come back to normal.
 |
| Ana finishing strong |
 |
| I'm perfectly coated in mud |
Daniel was there to meet us at the transition, and I also briefly saw Ana,
setting off just as I arrived. I dropped my bike for Big Al to pick up,
dropped my helmet for Daniel to throw in the truck, and off I ran.
The Run
The first 4k were in the "dry creek bed". Wading through up to knee deep
water in the "dry" creek. It felt more like river travel tramping than
running. Lots of terrain with big rocks to climb, and fields of basketball-sized rocks to pick over. Getting steadily passed by fit women in their teens and 20s from the wave behind me who were bounding over the rocks and water like
mountain goats, going faster than my regular running pace.
Then finally, finally, out of the creek and onto a firm surface - a farm track leading to the road. The first
500m were great, but that was all that was left in my legs after everything
I'd done today. From then on my pace dropped from 6 min to 7 min, then to an 8 min pace - from 10 km/h to 8½ km/h to 7½ km/h.
Not uncomfortable but just lumbering along. I tried to keep a 7 on my watch pace.
There was so much encouragement, the cars going past tooted and shouted encouraging words. The many marshals and organisers on the course were great.
Then the swim. The canal was up and had a strong current. ("Someone opened the pumps when they shouldn't have", an organiser told Angela the next day.) No longer just a
quick splash across, you had to properly swim and I came to the other side a
bit further downstream than I should have. The organisers were amazing, with
lots of encouragement, kayakers in the water for safety and warm ponchos on
the other side.
I discovered that losing layers is actually important as all my layers now
weighed probably 10kg soaking wet. I stopped and lost all but one merino layer
and my bib. Some kids from the swim support crew were running along with me, I
gave one of them my extra layers. I hope I see them again!
Finally it was the last 3km, a run through the Fairy Walk and into Methven, I
knew I was on the home straight.
So good to finish, and so good to not have to crawl through a bouncy castle at
the end.
 |
| Through the fire hose and FINISHED |
Thanks so much to Ana for being foolhardy enough to follow along in this adventure, and to Angela, Daniel, Tessa and Toby for providing all the support and help to get me up and back. Big shout out to the incredible organisers of the event. The logistics to get this done are mind blowing, and there were so many people out there making it happen and keeping us safe and shouting motivating words at us. Woot!
Although I feel stiff and sore all over, I do feel pretty good. No injuries, no
extreme fatigue, and a small glow of achievement. Like at the end of possum run. I'm glad I did it - I have no unfinished business now and I'm delighted to have survived the bike ride in particular - and I don't ever want to do this ever again.
