I have a long history with Tarawera. My nemesis.

This entire blog is basically a chronology of our relationship.

If Tarawera were a person, the internet would condemn my toxic relationship with it.

I have a tattoo of a unicorn on my ribs. It’s blue like the colour of Tikitapu with tall bright green pine trees blended throughout. I got it after I finished my first 100km race and it was at Tarawera.

Seven years later, I finished my first 100 mile race, also at Tarawera. The finish took three years of training (a lot more if you include the interjection of the pandemic) with a DNS and a DNF preceeding the finish.

Depicted all down my left leg, is the tattoo I got after that race, the water; the ferns, the Sulfur flats, the culture.

This race is literally etched onto my body, in more ways than one.

To be honest, in a lot of ways, this race changed my life. It changed how I thought of myself, my relationship with my body and how I relate to the world in general.

Don’t get me wrong, I know it’s just running, I know it’s just a sport. I know how lucky I am to be able to even think about doing it.

I booked accommodation for Tarawera 2026, whilst still in Rotorua after the 2025 edition. I had finished the 100 miles but it didn’t go how I had planned or wanted. (Race recap here).

I just wanted to get to that finish line feeling like I’d had my best performance. I’m not over inflating my ego here, but I genuinely think I can run under 26 hrs on this course (I currently have a 33:30 ish, 29:40 ish).

I was really excited to run it all the way up to the race. I ran Two Bays 56k and the Rock Around the Clock trail marathon in January and felt strong for both.

I knew I’d be going on my own without my dream team from last year. I was excited and curious to see how I would go on my own. I was going to be a kayak, the only one in control of my own boat.

But when I got to Rotorua, I suddenly wasn’t all that interested in running 100 miles and the weather forecast wasn’t even that bad at that point.

It just wasn’t all that fun on my own. The AirBnb I booked was disappointing and its size only made me feel more alone.

I tried to book fun things that maybe my friends or husband wouldn’t be keen on like fancy spas but they wouldn’t let me book for one person, “for safety reasons”.

So I was feeling a bit meh and the 102km race was getting a lot of hype. I’ve never run the 102 in the current direction, when I did it in 2017 it was in reverse.

When I showed up at rego all ready to have my gear checked and collect my bib for the miler, I changed my registration to the 102km. I was just more excited about it.

Then the weather forecast got really questionable.

I kinda didn’t think too much of it. I thought it would drain pretty well as long as it wasn’t raining during the actual race. The forecast for the actual race seemed fine! Spoiler alert: it lied.

I was so so wrong!

Since I was on my own, I was at the bus pick up at 4:45am, it didn’t leave til 5:00. The bus trip was an hour and then the race didn’t start til 7:00am.

I started really well. I felt like I had won the start group lottery. It was the perfect pace. I didn’t get stuck in slow conga lines or anything like that. I was moving well and feeling really stoked about it. This never happens to me, usually I’m stuck at a pace a hate and stressing because I’m either going way too slow or there are people behind me trying to go way too fast, way too early.

The first few k’s are on grass and through a golf course before you do about a kilometre or so on single track before you hit all the forest roads.

It wasn’t raining at all for the first three hours or so but the cloud was low and it was super humid and warm.

I paced well and ate everytime my alarm went off and drank to thirst. It felt good, hot and stuff but manageable.

I’d done the heat training. I’d ran in the heat, sat in the sauna with all the old blokes, I was confident that 22 degrees was manageable.

Then the deluge started. It was laughable through the single track of the Tarawera trail towards Tarawera Falls.

I tried multiple times to take a photo but I couldn’t open my phone.

This official photo doesn’t do it justice.

Everything was wet and it didn’t recognise my white, soggy fingers. I wasted way too much time messing around with my technology, either my headphones, my Mighty or my phone!

It was slow going through the forest. It was really dark and everything was slippery roots and rocks.

I had my first “oh this is new” issue in the forest. My eyesight is shit in low light and at night, I have no depth perception, so I have prescription running glasses (a lesson learnt from another race!) but they were useless in the humidity and rain, they just fogged up and made the visibility worse, even with my cap on.

It was annoying but I just added it to the list of ridiculousness of the day.

I thought that section was a lot longer so I was surprised to come out of the forest early and back onto a road.

I guess that happens when you change your race the night before and have done no research!

The roads were super boring, not gunna lie. I do have priors for cracking the shits and walking on the road for no reason other than frustration at the fact that I can see a never ending road and I don’t want to!

So I had a strategy! I had two pairs of Shokz headphones (because they are the only acceptable headphones in a trail race, just sayin’) and my new Mighty iPod thing ready to go.

It’s basically a modern iPod, you download playlists from Spotify and it doesn’t need internet to work.

I had rules for it though, I was only going to play music when I needed it, otherwise I wanted to talk to people and not use it on single track or fun sections.

But at around 35k, I turned off the headphones and they somehow unpaired from my Mighty and I couldn’t re-pair it without using my phone and everything was too wet for that!

When I got to the checkpoint at 42km, I had a drop bag which I had stocked for the questionable weather.

I had quick dry towels, more plastic bags, clean and dry socks, shirts, etc and my nutrition to collect.

I dried everything off, changed my shirt and buff, and collected my nutrition bag.

I filled one of my bottles which I had prepared with tailwind (which I use in training and racing) because I don’t really rate the Naak mix.

I left with three filled bottles, two with water and one with the super concentrated tailwind.

I walked back into the rain and out of the checkpoint sipping the tailwind.

I wasted a fair bit of time in their messing with my headphones but it was absolutely pissing down and I kind of appreciated the reprieve from being pelted. It was not going to be a fast race anyway so who cared about a few extra minutes.

I left there at around 12:40pm.

I wasn’t far out of the checkpoint when things started feeling off.

It started with a bit of a headache. I thought maybe my glasses or headband was too tight. I took them off but it didn’t do much.

I kept moving forward and hit the mud. It was hot and humid under the trees, the mud was kinda funny, it was so soft and deep that you literally swallowed your feet with each step. There was going to be no moving fast through it.

I pulled out my poles and tried to move as fast as I could. It was slow going, I’ll be keen to see if anyone took photos because my phone was no go in the wet.

Under the trees, my vision started doing weird things and I felt super light headed.

I drank some more water and kept trying to move forward.

Then came the nausea.

This was different.

I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t feel hot, it didn’t feel like a heat stroke type issue but I also couldn’t tell if I was sweaty or just wet.

Usually I’m a super salty sweater. This was my hat after Two Bays but I’m usually salty after even just a 10k!

I didn’t know how to gauge it, did I have a salt issue? Would my tailwind fix it?

I didn’t have salt tablets, I’ve never taken them.

But what if it was the opposite and salt would make it worse?

All I could think of was the very first Tarawera medical briefing back in 2017, too much water is very bad, too little water is very bad.

I spiralling. Not panicked, I didn’t think I was dying or anything (yes I have thought that in the past!), I just didn’t know what to do.

I sipped water, I sipped tailwind.

I kept walking and hoped it would come good.

The more I walked, the more my hips and hamstrings started to stiffen, my heart rate dropped and I started to get cold.

The run/walk metric on Garmin tells the story better than I could. I ran then I stopped and walked!

I tried to hold it together as person after person passed me. I must have looked sad and pale because many asked if I was doing ok. A few asked about a leg injury so I was clearly walking poorly too (that’s just my lazy glutes that I need to do strength training to fix!)

I came into the checkpoint at 52ish km. The lovely older lady clocked me straight away. “Can I get a lift out of here?”, I asked her, “please tell me I don’t have to walk the next 6km to Okataina?”

She looked at me with sad eyes and said something about bad luck. She ushered me towards a car where a local bloke was waiting with another runner to drive people out.

(Turns out the trail was actually closed at this point later in the race because the mud was too hazardous, so it would have been a very slow 7k for me to Okataina!)

I stopped my watch and got in.

It was over.

I wasn’t even upset.

My stomach was and I was super dizzy, but emotionally I wasn’t even sad about it.

My husband said it sounded like my heart wasn’t in it, and maybe that’s also true.

Could I have walked through the mud to Okataina and onto the finish? Probably.

Could I have made whatever was going on much worse? Probably.

Should I add salt tablets to my arsenal? I have no idea!

After about an hour sitting in the club rooms waiting for the bus back to the finish line, a cup of two minute noodles, a handful of potato chips and some water, I felt a lot better, so maybe I should have just done that at the aid station.

I sat in those club rooms feeling like a soft, quitter, who had spent thousands of dollars and thousands of hours training only to pull the pin because of a headache and an upset stomach. I sat there with a bloke with broken ribs, another with a broken toe and a third who was just constantly throwing up outside.

I’ve done a fair bit of googling now. Maybe it was salt imbalance but messing with that without experience can be super dangerous.

12 hours removed, and I felt completely comfortable with my decision.

One because I could have really screwed myself over health wise and two because running these events is meant to be fun! Type 2 fun obviously but still fun.

I woke up covered in heat rash (🤔) and with a phone full of supportive messages and Instagram posts of many other folks who had a tough day, some who called it early, some who gutted it out, all completely justified and content with their individual decisions.

And I feel oddly validated by the insane DNF rate in both the 100 mile and 100km.

I ran a good race until I didn’t.

Almost a week removed and I still feel very average. The flight and travel home hasn’t helped.

Everything just feels very flat.

I’ve seen so many posts of people who pushed through, who “didn’t have their day” but finished anyway. Most are defiant, determined to come back next year and improve, have revenge on the course.

I remember that feeling.

I don’t have it. I don’t feel anything at all. I’m not even looking to sign up for another race to make the most of my training.

I appreciated Lucy’s post race dissection. She chose to gut it out, I chose to quit.

She says she’s not done, I’m still searching for that sentiment.

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