A Marathon not a Sprint

I'm sure there are those who consider a Marathon, that 42.2km test of fitness, stamina and maybe stupidity, to be just another run. No different to jogging to the shops for the paper. But to the rest of us lesser mortals, simply getting to the start line is a challenge in itself.

As I lined up at Milbrook Resort, on the outskirts of the little village of Arrowtown, I glanced across at my fellow competitors. The battle scars from three months of gruelling training were on display. I swear that some people were more strapping than person. For them, just lining up was a real achievement and at that very moment, before the events of the next four hours unfolded, they could proudly call themselves Marathoners. Or should that be Full Marathoners?

You see it's important to make that distinction in New Zealand. On more that one occasion I've been proudly informed by a fellow runner that they are doing the marathon this weekend, only to find out later that they are competing in the 10k. Even yesterday, on the bus to the start of the race I heard someone proudly boast that this was their fifth marathon. "Wow!" their partner in conversation exclaimed, "That's impressive". "Well I've done five marathons but this is my first full marathon." That is not to take away the achievement of completing a half marathon, that is a test in itself and something to be really proud about, but it's not a full marathon.

A Full Marathon, or to give it its proper title A Marathon, is a totally different prospect and not one to be taken lightly, for us non-super-humans anyway. To put it into context, in the course of training for a Marathon you will match or exceed the distance of a Half Marathon no less than ten times. In a typical training programme anyway. Everyone is an expert when it comes to training programmes and they all claim to be the best, tried and tested etc etc. There is no right answer, pick one and stick to it. Although, having said that, I'm not sure the guy next to me in the starting pen had chosen wisely. He was a bit.... well let's say he was not a thin chap but when asked how had is training gone he replied enthusiastically "Pretty good, although this is only my second not on a treadmill". Well at least he'll be fresh!

Yes, just getting to the start line is an achievement as anything can happen in the months, weeks and days leading up to the start. Mine, by way of an example, was far from ideal. I knew that this was going to be the case when, on my first official day of training, I was mowed down by a wayward cyclist, hurting my groin in the process. It all happened so quickly that I didn't even have time to respond wittily "Get off the footpath you f*cking stupid idiot".

Add to that, twisted ankles, several colds, unseasonally crappy weather and a bit of gastro enteritis and the whole thing has been a bit of an ordeal. And that is the real problem. Running used to be a pleasure but when you have to get out there and pound the pavement, especially when the runs are getting towards the 30km mark, it becomes a chore. A worry almost. Rather than be the stress relief it used to be, it becomes a source of anxiety in itself. Am I feeling as good as I should? Am I running fast enough? Can I afford to miss this session? Is that a niggle in my ankle? And so on and so forth. It's a blessing that I was not short of fantastic places to run and had some good friends to keep me company on parts of my long runs.

It almost all came to an end with just two weeks to go when a previous injury to my ankle decided to make a return. Not wanting to acknowledge this I took the most sensible option and ignored the growing pain in my right foot. Well I had another didn't I? Shovelling down ibuprofen like they were Smarties, I set off for my final short run. Blam! The dull pain became a sharp needle point and I couldn't finish the run. The next day my ankle had ballooned in size and even walking was painful. Time to see the Physio. Well, actually the time to see the Physio was several weeks ago but who's counting. Incidentally, that's another thing that they don't tell you. You and your physio will become almost inseparable. At least I was, and I was there so often that I considered asking for loyalty discount on more than one occasion.  

"Hmmm," he mused, "well I can get you to the start line, but the rest is up to you". And so two weeks of intensive physiotherapy, icing and rest ensued. I didn't dare tell him that I had entered a Half Marathon race the week after the Marathon. But he was good to his word and he got me to the starting line where I joined the aforementioned strapped casualties of the Marathon masses. It was now up to me.

I had a race plan and I doggedly stuck to it. During the early stages I could have gone faster but held back, conscious that there was another 32km to go. And with stunning mountain scenery all around what was the rush? I passed the halfway point, one of the psychological hurdles, just a minute behind my planned time but I was not feeling as good as I would've liked, or indeed expected. The sun was out and the headwind on certain sections was taking its toll. By the 30km point I was further adrift, only by ten minutes, but it was enough for me to realise that my chance of getting home in under the magic four hour mark was slipping away. Worse than that, I was beginning to really struggle.

With 8km still to run, I entered the final section and started my run alongside the lake. I had run this track before and knew it well - and knew that I could cover it in the time needed for me to still reach my goal. Five minute kilometres would not normally be an issue but on the back of having already run 34km I knew I was going to have a problem. The pain was getting worse and I was starting to feel really fatigued. I bashed out another couple of kilometres and soon I passed the 5km to go banner. "5k, is that all?" I thought to myself "That's only three laps around Western Springs lake. No problem, you've got this!". But I didn't. No amount of mental encouragement was going to banish the agonising pain in my legs. If I was going to finish this race and live to run another day I was going to have to commit the cardinal sin and walk. For a little bit at least. So for the next four kilometres I ran and walked in a desperate attempt to knock some of the distance off. I'd forgotten just how much Marathon running hurts.

Soon, but not soon enough, the 1km to go marker was in view and the cheers of the welcoming Queenstown crowd could be heard. "You can't walk through the crowd," I thought to myself, "come one, one final push to the end!". And so, with every aching muscle telling me to stop, I ran the last kilometre through the streets of Queenstown, up the last hill and into the finishing straight. Tears had already started to trickle down my face as I crossed the finish line in a respectable 4hrs 18min 30sec and by the time I was hugged by Sarah the trickle turned to sobs. Sobs of relief, pain, joy and pride in what I had accomplished. Happy to have finished the race but overjoyed that the Marathon ordeal was over.  No more getting up a stupid o'clock on a Sunday morning to get a long run done. No more analysing every kilometre ran. No more club runs because they didn't fit the training programme. No more anxiety over having missed a training session because of one reason or another. And no more asking for understanding from your partner because either your too miserable or too tired to think about anything else.

Yes, I thought that I would've finished quicker and getting under four hours would've been a dream come true. But it's a tough course, stupidly beautiful but stupidly hilly with a huge 'wall' at 30km and it was hot and windy. I also know that I didn't leave anything out there and was physically and emotionally drained when I crossed the line. In the end, I gave it everything and that is all that matters. 

So why, you might ask, am I telling you all this? Perhaps in case there is anyone out there who has completing a Marathon on their bucket list and needs to know what they are letting themselves in for. But mainly its for me, or rather my future self. This is definitely my last Marathon. I've done one in the northern hemisphere and now one on the southern side of the planet. And that's enough, for me at least. Let's call this an insurance policy. There will be times, possibly a year or so from now; when the pain has subsided and I can approach a flight of stairs without grimacing at the thought of the pain to come, when the conversation will inevitably turn to Marathons. Temptation will surely raise its ugly head and the prospect of completing another might sound like a fun way to spend the weekend. I just hope that I recall that I have written this and take the time to seek it out. Otherwise it'll be back to the early morning sessions and having a physio on my speed dial.

Nope, I'm done with Marathons. Never again, and yes this time I mean it. And besides, there's always triathlons.....

Shaken not Stirred

There really is no need to actually read the news these days. Not in depth anyway. Now all one has to do to remain in touch is simply to simply scan the messages that are automatically sent, pushed I believe they call it, conveniently to your handheld device or tablet. A few seconds and you're done. Up-to-date. Switched on.

But there is a problem. Relying on these messages alone, as is so easily to do, you can quickly get an idea of what's happened without actually bothering to find out what's really going on. But it's so gripping, addictive almost, as anyone who has felt the excitement of 'watching' a football match on the BBC's text updates will attest. And it's without fail the first thing I do in the morning; wake up, hold out an outstretched arm, pick up my phone and glance at the screen. What's happened in the rest of the world whilst I've been happily slumbering? What have I missed?

I don't know why I do it really. Looking back over the events of the past year it's been a grim way to wake up. Just off the top of my head; Bowie, Prince, Alan Rickman, Leonard Cohen and only just recently Robert Vaughan. Add to that, shootings, acts of terrorism, random violence and natural and unnatural disasters. I must stop doing this - it's no wonder I arrive in work in a foul mood. In fact it's only the calamities that were Brexit and the US election that had the decency to unfold during waking hours. At least then I only returned home in a foul mood, and there was the benefit of several bars between my desk and front door to knock off the edge....

It's not unusual, when glancing bleary-eyed at the phone's screen in the early morning, to be greeted with a message informing me that there's been an earthquake somewhere in New Zealand. It is, after all, not nicknamed the Shaky Isles for nothing. In fact it’s so common place, that I've gotten to the point where I don't even comment on it. Now I just acknowledge it and move on to something else. I accept that for those in more stable countries, geologically speaking anyway, that this nonchalant approach to seismic events might seem a little careless. Cavalier even. And maybe it is. I also accept that even the slightest New Zealand tremor would far surpass anything felt in the British Isles, result in trains being cancelled and questions being asked in the Houses of Parliament. Not to mention stiff letters being written to the editor of The Telegraph asking how can this sort of thing be allowed to happen.

It's just part of nearly-everyday life in this fascinating country. 

But this morning’s message was different. Something was seriously up. Not only were there multiple messages, one of them was from The Guardian. This one was so significant that the UK press had picked up the story. A quick tap of the screen confirmed that it was indeed a big one, 7.5 on the Richter Scale. The messages were soon followed by others confirming that after-shocks were continuing, some as large as 6.3.

At around 1am this morning a large seismic event had occurred in the South Island of New Zealand, around Kaikoura. It was so large that it was felt in the North Island as far away as Auckland. Not to make light of it, but Auckland? Really? Now I consider myself to be a light sleeper and I have to say that I did’t feel a thing. Not a murmur. Maybe some are just more sensitive than me or maybe hadn't had a bottle of wine a few hours ago. Either way, this was not your usual rumble and it had done some serious damage.

News was slowly trickling in to Radio NZ. Reports of damage to roads, rail lines, buildings, agricultural land soon made it abundantly clear this was a large shock. Wellington city centre had been evacuated for safety grounds whilst the buildings were inspected, roads and schools were closed and a state of emergency declared. This was serious.

In some ways it was a relief that it had happened during the early hours of the morning. If it had hit during the day, a time when people are travelling to work or tourists are heading along the coastal road, then we would surely be looking at more than two people dead. Yes it could've been a lot worse.

It has served as a reminder what a contradictory place New Zealand can be. In the most part, beautiful, serene and laid back but unpredictable and without a moment's notice can bare it's teeth and try to tear itself apart at the seams. I'm thankful that as I am writing this the sun has set and the surrounding land plunged into darkness. The lights of Auckland look beautiful but I know that just across the harbour is a relatively recent reminder of the power of nature. Rangitoto is just one of 53 volcanoes in the currently dormant Auckland volcano field. Dormant but not extinct. And overdue, in geological terms anyway. Some time in the next hundred to couple of thousand years. A blink of an eye so to speak.

If think from now on, I'll leave looking at my phone screen until I have had at least my first sip of coffee. I'll be much better equiped to handle bad news. It's either that, or ignore the news and live in blissful ignorance. Actually, on reflection as I stare out into the darkness of the Hauraki Gulf maybe that isn't such a bad idea after all.....

"I think I've found the problem!"

Definitely worse than leaves on the track

"We're going to need a bigger shovel"

Large furnished studio apartment available to rent*

Available immediately is this fantastically spacious studio apartment. 

If location is your thing then this place has it all! Situated in the heart of the bohemian suburb of Parnell means that there are bars, restaurants, boutique shops and beautiful parks right on your door step. And, being at the city side of the suburb, it is a gentle twenty minute stroll into the CBD giving quick and easy access to the ferry terminal and train station.

Convenience doesn’t stop there. This is a studio style accommodation, everything is within easy reach. It is a very practical shape, a rectangle, so it makes arranging the layout a breeze. 

Speaking of breeze, there is a large widescreen entrance with electrical control that gives convenient access to the street. There is also a side entrance that opens out onto a garden patio, complete with jacuzzi. Storage is also provided with plenty of shelving for storing those ornaments and nic-nacs that give any home a personal touch. 

A plumbed in washing machine is included in the rent as well as ready-to-use furnishings such as bed, dining table, two free standing wardrobes, fridge freezer and sofa. The concrete floor and bare walls give this space a real urban loft feel that wouldn’t be out of place in downtown New York. We do suggest, however, that whoever is lucky enough to call this place home, buys a nice pair of slippers to keep out the chill on cool evenings.

Off street parking is also available, a must in a busy suburb such as this, but does need to be arranged carefully so as not to inhibit access to the property or spoil the views.

Tempted? You should be. But they say seeing is believing so early viewing of this apartment is a must......

*okay, we'll come clean. This isn't actually a studio apartment - it's our garage. And whilst I'm feeling in a sharing mood, not all of the furniture is ours, we just happen to be storing it for a friend. Well except the wardrobe and fridge freezer - they're ours. Oh, and the car.

Back to the Scene of the Crime

Like most criminals, the temptation to return to the scenes of a heinous deed was just too tempting. Not that it was a conscious decision mind you. What on earth am I taking about? Nonsense as usual but let me explain.  

When we were looking, a few months ago now, for somewhere to go for the Labour Day weekend (or Bank Holiday weekend if you prefer) we had a few criteria against which any potential destination would be measured.

Firstly, it had to be reasonably reachable for a weekend. Quite obvious, but it did rule out a trip to Cape Reinga in the north or East Cape to the errrr….. well East. This destination, whilst a large chunk of the distance could be covered by air, was just too far flung to reasonably get there and back in a weekend. We could, just about, have got to Sydney but we’d recently been there and the thought of international travel for a quick getaway didn’t appeal. And there is also the next criteria….

…it had to be relaxing. A weekend in the busy city of Sydney would certainly not be relaxing and we’d return to work more tired than we were when we left, especially when factoring the two hour time difference. Nope, Sydney was out. So somewhere relaxing would have to be in New Zealand and fit the final criteria….

With a marathon fast approaching, or at least it would be by the time this particular weekend rolled around, wherever we ended up had to have somewhere where a reasonable length run could be accommodated. With four weeks to go, this would need to be around 30km. And preferably off-road to mimic the marathon route that I would be running.

There really was only one place that we knew fit the three criteria. Abel Tasman National Park is an hour flight then short drive from Auckland, is definitely a relaxing place and has a walking track that is 60km long. The added bonus is that there are water taxis that shuttle people up and down the coast to different points on the track. Marahau is the closest settlement to the park, being only 1km outside the entrance, so having decided upon the location, the accommodation was simple. It had to be Ocean View Chalets. We’d been before, knew they were ideally situated and very comfortable.

As we drove up the gravel track to the chalets, nestled in the bush on the side of a hill overlooking the sea, we got a pang of familiarity. This doubled when we were shown to our accommodation for the next few days. It was exactly the same chalet we’d stayed in on our holiday to New Zealand for Christmas 2014. We dispensed with the tour of the property and quickly settled down for the afternoon.

But why the scene of the crime? Well it was here, back in December 2014, when we…well ok I…. first mooted the possibility of us coming to New Zealand to live. I remember it distinctly - we were walking back from a trip into the National Park and heading up the gravel driveway when I first suggested the possibility. Then, after a glass of wine or two, I did a little bit of research into the ins and outs and discovered that our profession was on the long term skills shortage list. Engineering was in short supply so it wouldn’t be a problem. And there it was left whilst we enjoyed the rest of our holiday.

Maybe it was the lovely warm summer sun or the sheer heart stopping beauty of this place, but having had those initial thoughts I didn’t think that we would, just seven short months later, be packing the contents of our house into a container and shipping it off half way around the world. I certainly didn’t think that I would be sat in the same chair, coffee in hand, looking out to sea and writing a blog about life in New Zealand. What an adventure!

Well that’s enough reminiscing for one morning. The marathon won’t run itself, mores the pity, so I’ve got a 30k run to do. Now where was that number for the water taxi….

 

A Fantastic Day!

I've always resented having to work on my birthday. I did, for a while at least, try and avoid working at all by taking the day off (hey! I heard that!) but after a while I came to realise that taking a day off in October was not great timing, weather wise at least, and I was better off saving it for more favourable conditions.

That changed when we moved to New Zealand - my Autumnal birthday magically swapping for a Springtime celebration. In some ways, that made it worse. This year it looked like the sun shining bit was going to be a stretch - we've had a really wet start to Spring this year - but there's not a cloud in the sky.

So far, by luck of the calendar, my birthdays have fallen on a weekend but that was only going to last short while.  My first birthday in NZ was a Saturday, and we spent the day on Waiheke Island sampling the local wines from several vineyards whilst soaking up the early sunshine. Last year it was a Sunday and we spent the day sipping a beer or two on the quayside whilst trying to avoid getting too sunburnt. A trend was definitely emerging.

But now I am faced with the prospect of working on my birthday AND the sun is shining......

....well maybe working is a bit misleading. Yes, I am getting paid and technically I am in work, but I am about to jump on my bike and cycle around some of Auckland's newly built cycle paths. I suppose getting paid to cycle in the sunshine not only makes me very fortunate but it's also the closest I will come to being a professional cyclist. But without the hassle of having to shave my legs.

When it was suggested to me, without solicitation I must add, I was initially apprehensive. Could I really afford the time when I knew I had numerous reports to complete? Wouldn't it be better is a more junior team member went in my place? And then there was the problem of which bike to take. The client team would be on their e-bikes. Should I take my slow but sturdy mountain bike or my quick but less robust road bike? And then there was the issue of what to wear. A dress shirt and trousers would be appropriate for a client meeting but not great for spending a morning in the saddle. Problems, problems. It would better if I just politely declined. What on earth was I thinking?

It does give me a bit of a dilemma though. How on earth can I top this? Hhmmm, next year my birthday will be on a Wednesday.... Maybe I can convince my employer that what he really needs is for someone to check out the running routes through the city? Maybe a good beach inspection is needed? Or perhaps we really need someone to make an assessment of the transport links to the local bars? Actually, don't they have a lot of cycle paths in Belgium? I hear Bruges is lovely at this time of year.....




Sitting Ducks

A colleague of mine once compared living in Auckland to being on an air craft carrier. Not, I hasten to add, because we are all armed and ready to kick-off at anyone who looks at us sideways, but because we are in the middle of the ocean and surrounded by nothing much but water.

And not just any water either. The South Pacific is a steaming, fizzing cauldron of currents which give rise to torrential rain, wind and occasionally very impressive, but equally frightening, tropical cyclones. 

And all New Zealand, can do is sit and watch and wonder if the swirling mass of low pressure is coming our way. I'd imagine that it's a bit like witnessing Godzilla arrive at the city boundary and watch, helplessly, as it begins its slow but certain stomp towards you. Not that I have ever witnessed a Godzilla of course. 

On the plus side, it makes weather forecasting, in the short to medium term at least, a breeze. Pardon the pun. Want to know what the weather will be doing today? No problem, just look at the rainfall radar and see what's coming. Pretty much whatever is predicted to come this way will inevitably turn up. A bit like a drunk mate who turns up at every party - no one invited him but everyone knew he was coming. Sooner or later. Auckland does have the Waitakere Ranges to shield it from the worst of the rain, but when it comes in such volume it makes little difference. They are hardly the Pennines. 

The flip side of this, of course, is that once settled weather turns up there is very little to disrupt that pattern. The result is, thankfully, long periods of unbroken sunshine and warm weather. But at the moment....well the South Pacific is very angry. Mostly at Australia which is having a torrid time, but it has been continuously damp here in Auckland for some time. How damp? Well last night Auckland had 85mm of rainfall. Pretty soggy I can tell you.

At least it's warm. With temperatures hanging around 15 degrees it makes walking in the rain almost a pleasure. Yes, you will still get wet but not cold, and it saves on having to get a shower in the morning. It's exactly this sort of weather that has resulted in us having to have our house washed. Yup, you read that correctly. The warm and humid weather is great for moss and over the past two years our white house has slowly turned green. It didn't look great but it did add an extra layer of insulation. Not quite the green Eco house that we had in mind though.

There is never a dull moment when you are afloat in the southern seas. And it looks like the superstorm that has been ravaging Australia is going to pay us a visit. Great. With another wet week forecast I'm seriously considering swapping my shirt and trousers for a wet suit, flippers and snorkelling mask for my walk to work.

With all this water around, it would be quite easy to start to feel a little vulnerable - if I stopped to think about it that is. But at the end of the day, well, it's only weather isn't it and it will pass. No, it's the tsunamis that you should worry about......

Election Fever

Forget the trivialities of the US election, it's election time here in Auckland and election Fever is gripping this one-time capital of New Zealand. And being keen on the democratic process we can't wait to get involved.....

Or at least we would if we were allowed to vote. You see the powers-that-be exclude us immigrants from the democratic process. And who can blame them? Who would want dirty and ill-informed outsiders from voting in a New Zealand election? Especially when they don't, after all, contribute anything to the economy. What do they know about life in New Zealand. No, it's much better to leave important decisions to those that know best. Yes, I may have an opinion and the outcome of the election may effect me but I can just keep it to myself thank you very much. It's probably as well - the last thing this government needs is any help from a lefty-outsider. And they say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.

Anyway, with no means to influence the outcome it is quite fascinating to see how another city manages the democratic process.

I must say that it's a little confusing. Firstly, there is the sheer number of different parties. National, First, Labour, Upside Down Party. Actually I made that last one up, but with so many parties, all with different values, aims and aspirations it is hard to know who I would pick, if I could vote that is. At the last count there were a total of 19 candidates. Yes, 19! You should see the ballot paper.

When travelling around the city, it doesn't take long to bump into the election posters. They're everywhere. Every spare bit of land is filled with huge wooden structures with posters of beaming individuals promising the earth. Why have just one election poster when you can have nineteen? If one party has a poster then the rest will soon follow. Maybe it's an election rule. I could look it up I suppose but as I'm not allowed to vote, what's the point.

If it is a rule then it is actually quite a good idea - seeing them all together, in a political line-up, saves me the bother of having to read any of their election pamphlets and I can make a snap judgement based upon whether they look like sane individuals or someone you wouldn't trust to look after themselves, let alone the budget of an metropolitan city.

"A vote for me is a vote for common sense," screams one election poster. And what a tempting prospect that would be. I'm all for a bit of common sense as long as it is used in sensible situations. It wouldn't do to waste a good dollop of common sense in an impractical situation.

"Vote for me and I'll build a train line to the airport," boasts another. Well I must say that he doesn't look like he has it in him. Quite a claim for a man in his fifties. Mind you, he doesn't say how long it is going to take him and whether he'll have any mates to help him. I can just imagine the conversation, post election win, in the pub when he breaks the news...

"Well done Bob on that election win"

"Thanks Terry, it was a close call but that promise to build the rail line to the airport swung it"

"I know, I can't believe that people fell for that," Terry added.

"Err, what are you doing on Saturday?"

"Not much, why?"

"Well I'm going to borrow a couple of shovels so I thought we'd make a start"

"Start what Bob?"

"Errr....can I get you a pint...."

The run-in to this election has been quite entertaining. One of the candidates is rumoured to win by a significant majority and this has upset one of the rank outsiders. Well I say rank outsider but what I should say is deluded outsider. This particular individual has been consistently polling at a predicted 4% of the vote share. It's good to see that it has not dampened his spirits - he simply refuses to believe they are accurate, just as much as he refuses to believe that not having any actual policies is a contributing factor. Actually he does have one election strategy, and that is to accuse the favourite of being rubbish.

Take this transcript for his latest interview when asked about his poor poll ratings;

"The reason people have approached me is because they, like me, share the idea that Tom* hasn't got the answers to fix Auckland's problems, so I think the most responsible thing for me to do is rather than pull out is frankly to double my efforts to make people aware that a Tom* mayoralty seems inevitable and that's not going to fix the problem."

Genius.

And so it goes on. With so many candidates, there are hundreds of permutations. Vote for change, strong leadership, fresh ideas, real results, more of this, less of that, more of the same, more spending, less spending, faster, slower. It's enough to make your head spin. It seems to me is that the candidates should just make their minds up - have a meeting, and agree what they stand for and then come and tell the electorate what they are going to do if given the keys to the big office. If that doesn't work then maybe we should set them a written test. Something relevant like how much is a pint of milk, what is the capital of Peru and what's the most cost effective way to increase the volume of traffic that can travel through the city whilst having enough budget to solve the housing crisis.

It certainly beats dragging everyone to the polling station to put a cross on large sheet of paper. Sounds like common sense to me!

"Rapid Rent-a-fence" seem to have the clearest policies

* Names changed to protect the guilty