It’s hard to know where to start. It still doesn’t feel quite real.

But somehow, I got from Kawerau to Rotorua, 100 miles (162km) under the power of just my own two feet. To be honest, I can hardly believe it. I thought it would be hard, but I didn’t really comprehend just how hard and now, a few days removed, I think I’ve forgotten about it.

I got up the next day, after spending 33 hours and 30 minutes out on the course, thinking of how I could do it better. Eight hours earlier I was saying never, ever again, like ever! The brain is a magical thing.

I suddenly understand how women go back for a second baby after the first one tears her into shreds!

Race week kicked off with registration. A process that usually just requires picking up a bib and signing an “I get that I might die and this is a stupid sport” waver. But for Tarewera miler it also involves having your mandatory gear checked off, being weighed and collecting your race packet which includes the labels for any drop bags, your race t-shirt and bib.

The first hiccup of the weekend came when my thermal top (which has been approved by multiple races in the past including Tarawera) was deemed not suitable and I was told I had to go to Kathmandu and get another one. I was annoyed but wasn’t about to argue with a volunteer so I headed down to the local Kathmandu and got myself a new thermal made of some random material that was approved by the guys at Ironman/UTMB.

But when I got back to the tent with my new thermal still in the box, they apologised profusely and said there was a miscommunication and that my other one was fine.

Crisis averted, on to the weigh in.

Apparently they require your weight (they also weigh you afterwards) to make sure you aren’t dying at the end of it. This “science” has been debunked for a while now but is still part of the process at Tarawera.

Once all that is done, all you have to do is drop off your bags, take all your selfies and show up at the bus stop for the start. Unless of course you’re that guy overheard at registration saying “real men don’t need drop bags”.

The packing and spreadsheet required for these bags was probably overkill but I calculated the carbs per hour and then planned accordingly with extra stuff that I thought I might like in each one as rewards or surprises. The Bakers Delight scroll in the Tikitapu bag (144km) didn’t look so crash hot after 29 hours in the sun!

Due to the changes of the course due to significant trail damage from floods and cyclones, we had to get a bus to the start line.

The traditional miler course does one big loop around the forests and lakes of Rotorua. This one started out at Kawerau and made its way back into the CBD. Whilst it was disappointing to not be the original course, I was actually kinda stoked because when I ran my first 100k at Tarawera back in 2017 the course ran from the redwoods in the CBD out to Kawerau. This was a nostalgic run back from Kawerau. It kinda felt like it was meant to be in some weird way.

But it meant we had to be at the finish line for a bus to the start at 2:00am!

So after about 3 hours sleep, we shuffled down to the finish line to board our bus. Our journey into the joys of sleep deprivation had started.

The bus was the strangest pre race bus I’ve ever been on for a big event. Usually they are quiet as people internally panic over the impending doom of what they are about to do. Not this one, it was loud and smelly (thats just Rotorua for you). After 50 minutes or so we got to the start line with plenty of time to go to the loo and get organised.

But without being to graphic (💩) about morning routines, I’m pretty sure a lot of runners were a bit worried about the 4:00am start.

Each race at Tarawera starts with a Māori blessing and haka and then we were off into the darkness.

To be honest, I can’t really tell you much about the first section. It was pitch black and I just focused on the circle of light in front of me and tried not to fall over before we had began. I didn’t want to go out too hot. I knew it was a long game and I think part of why I felt I had improved so much at Surf Coast Century was because I didn’t go so fast in the first half and tried to move as efficiently as I could in the second half.

It was mostly forest roads with some single track mixed in there.

The Tarawera falls section was beautiful and a nice break from all the roads before we went out on more forest roads. Some were actual forests and others had been cut down, leaving an erie post apocalyptic landscape.

We blew through the first checkpoint, only stopping to leave a friendship bracelet with a little girl. I would have gone to the bathroom but there was a long queue for the two portaloo’s, so we kept plodding along.

At the second checkpoint, we queued for the loo’s (again, only two bathrooms was not ideal) and kept going. We chatted with other runners and kept running.

Megan started pulling away with her consistent pace and I just couldn’t keep up. I had come to run and my legs had decided against it. I did a lot of walking and run/walking when there was no real reason to. The roads were long and monotonous and I let it get to me a bit. This was what I trained for so I’m a little annoyed that I gave up on it so easily.

Despite the fact that I felt really average, I clicked over 50k in a pretty decent time for me. I reassured myself that I wasn’t actually doing as badly as I felt.

But I shouldn’t have complained because the forest road turned into a very long bitumen road. The sun had come out and it was really warm. Locals had parked their cars on the side of the road with plastic tubs full of iced water and kitchen sponges.

My stomach had ached for kilometres. I struggled and was walking even though it was a downhill smooth bitumen road, perfect for running. I tried just running from one orange traffic cone to the next and keeping some sort of forward motion going. The pounding of the running jostled my stomach and hurt my lower back.

I was so relieved to make it to the 65k checkpoint. It was the first crewed point and there were people everywhere. I got my drop bag and laid down in the grass. So much for my “don’t ever sit down” rule. I felt hot and nauseous.

I stared up at the sky and contemplated what I was going to do next. I sent a message to my husband, “I think I’m staying at this checkpoint”.

My fuelling strategy wasn’t working, my stomach was terrible but at least I wasn’t throwing up like some people and I wasn’t injured. I waited for the room to stop spinning. I changed my shirt, went to the loo and after 20 minutes or so figured I would walk until I could run again.

It was 65k in and about 2:30pm. I had a boat to catch.

After a strange loop through some bloke’s cow paddock, we arrived at the boat crossing of Lake Rotomahana. I was so stoked when the boat wasn’t there because it meant I could lie down in the grass again which seemed to help my back.

It was nice to get a chance to talk to some other runners on the boat as the race had started spreading out a fair bit at this point. But they were off and running as soon as we were off the boat and I was back walking by myself again.

The next checkpoint at Isthmus seemed further away than I had thought. My watch was way out from the first checkpoint (as was everyone’s it turns out) which only added to my frustration and lead to a lot of confusion and bad math later in the race.

I left the Isthmus checkpoint with a local runner Jana. She told me all about the trail we were running on and her journey to the race. It was nice to have someone there for a bit.

At about 80k, I seemed to magically feel ok again and was able to do some running, at least on the downhills and the flats. The Tarawera Trail section was brutal and a really long stretch without aid (15km). It was quite rocky and the bottom of my feet felt like they had been pummelled with a meat mallet. Shoe choice fail!

The next checkpoint was at 85k, The Outlet. It was a crewed checkpoint and I was surprised to see my husband, his daughter and our friend Mary there. I mostly whinged, changed my shirt and went to the loo again.

My feet were really starting to get sore and I regretted putting my soft shoes in the drop bag at 110k rather than 85 but I have never changed shoes and socks in any race before so I didn’t see myself doing it here either. I had just put them in the drop bag as a bit of a security blanket.

The next part was the hilliest part of the course and it turns out was also quite difficult going as the trail was really rutted out. Even if I was fresh I would have struggled to find good running on a lot of the Okataina trail.

I was extremely grateful that I had packed my poles and had swapped my usual fuelling strategy of clif bloks and lollies for chips, pretzels and marmite sandwich’s with chips in them. Long distance trail running is essentially fuelled by kids party food.

Getting out to Okataina on the out and back wasn’t too bad. There were heaps of people on the trail with both the 100k and 100 mile doing this out and back section as part of the modified course. Milers coming back also sometimes had pacers with them so there was a fair bit going on.

I started feeling severe rubbing on one of my feet coming out of the Miller rd aid station. Instead of fixing it there where there were seats and light, I waited for another 500 metres and was sitting in the side of the trail rummaging through my pack for my first aid stuff. I stopped a few times to try and get it sorted and make sure it didn’t get worse. I’d never had blisters before so I had no idea what I was doing but figured something was better than nothing.

I came into Okataina with a plan. Change all my clothes, my shoes and socks and have something proper to eat. By “proper”, I mean the Maggi two minute noodle cup I had in the drop bag. I just didn’t anticipate it was going to take so long. I reckon I was in that aid station for like an hour but I have no idea.

It was like 11:30pm at this point and I went back out into the night. I don’t think I saw more than 3 people on the trail in the next 6 hours or so. I didn’t have music on or anyone to talk to and I just kept walking. There was nothing else I could do but man did my eyes start playing tricks on me. Every tree ahead was a car or a man walking his dog. I thought I saw an octopus on the trail at one point which of course was just some leaves.

My feet felt heaps better in new shoes and socks and I was so relieved when the sun started coming up. I saw one bloke sleeping on the side of the trail and considered doing it, thinking maybe it would reset something. I sat down for two minutes, set an alarm on my phone and everything, but felt ridiculous so kept going.

As I started getting closer to Miller Rd, I came across someone.

“Are you going to finish this?” He said.

“Yeah,” I said. “I really don’t want to keep doing this, but there isn’t anything wrong with me so…”

“Oh right, I’ve been trying to talk myself out of it all night”.

I left Miller Rd with the ability to run again. This sport is so weird. I ran down Miller Rd and around the lake back towards Blue Lake where the technical trails slowed me down again. I was tripping on the only rock on the path at some points so I took it easy through here.

I came into Blue Lake to find Fitz ready to walk the last 20k with me to the finish. I had messaged ahead to get me a hat and sunnies since I had stupidly put mine back the bag at Okataina when it got dark thinking I didn’t need them anymore.

I did pretty well until I got really hot going up the last little hill which flared up my stomach and back again.

It was really hurting at this point and I just wanted it done and over with. It was Sunday morning at this point and there were people everywhere riding their bikes, running and walking their dogs. Everyone clapped and cheered and read my name off my race bib. They kept saying I was an inspiration and it was super awkward. Fitz just kept laughing. He seemed to be having a much better time than me, despite the insanely slow pace.

He tried to get me to run on the flat across the Sulfur flats but I wasn’t having a bar of it. It was so hot and my skin my burning. I wanted it over but I wasn’t about to run!

I made it to the finish line in 33 hours and 31 minutes. Not remotely what I had imagined but a finish is a finish.

I got my hug from my old coach and friend Ali, and went with Kylie to pick my pounamu, the special gift to all miler finishers.

Now, a few days removed, I have mixed feelings about this one. I’m so proud to have got it done and to have not given up when things started going wrong. I managed to fix my feet, sort of fix my fuelling and keep moving when it really sucked. Despite the fact that it just wasn’t my day, I know I could have done it better and so it’s a little bittersweet.

Will I be going back to do it again? No, but will I run another miler, maybe….probably…. yeah.