I had been running for around 6 years when I decided to take on the challenge of Mt Oxford Odyssey Marathon in April 2021. Advertised as New Zealand’s toughest mountain marathon it would push my body further than it had ever been, across 42 kms of mountains which included 3500m of brutal elevation gain. Luckily I love a challenge, each one I conquer helps me grow a little bit stronger mentally and physically and I decided I would rather get to the start line and not finish than not start at all.
The week preceding this mammoth trail running event I found myself swinging unpredictably and erratically between excitement and absolute abject fear. Two days before the event I made the mistake of looking at the athlete line up. To discover that at that time only 10 women were entered. This sent my mind spinning into all kinds of destructive self talk. “They must all know something I don’t. I’m just an average runner. I’m kidding myself if I think I can do this. My body will give up and I’m going to have to be rescued, it’s going to be mortifying. I am so out of my league.” These irrational thoughts seemed all too real in those moments of doubt.
I worked hard to turn my own rhetoric around and tell myself it would be an adventure that I was strong and fit enough to overcome. Easier said than done, but somehow I found myself on the morning of the event inside a tent with all the other competitors sheltering from the pouring rain. I felt like an imposter.
The race organisers ran us through the race brief and declared it was almost time to start. We left the comfort of the tent and headed out into the rain, turning on our head torches as we went. We left the start line and the race was on. Quickly I settled in as a back of the pack runner which was OK with me but to be fair, I had no choice. There were some incredible athletes in the field and I had only decided to enter 6 weeks prior. I hadn’t trained long enough or hard enough to deserve to be anywhere close to the front. The point of me being there was to overcome a fear and have an adventure which would take me further over my home mountains than I had been before.
The dark start meant that the gradient in front of me couldn’t become overwhelming. It broke down the course into sections only as large as my head torch would allow. I powered on upwards for the first 5km until I popped out of the bushline where my protection from the weather rudely disappeared. The wind was cold, the rain wet and as I made my way higher and closer to the mountain summit it got worse and the rain turned to snow. The ground went from wet to white. My hands grew ridiculously cold and I watched my legs turn purple. My gloves which were already wet now started to freeze and I lost feeling in my hands. I pushed on and finally arrived at the top to be greeted by the smiling race officials and LandSAR team. They cheered me on and we shared some banter as I shuffled past them. By this time my legs had gone numb and foot placement became tricky. Strangely this was my favourite part of the race. There is something so empowering about battling the elements, the wind and ice battered my face, the ground crunched underfoot, it was wild and beautiful and I felt alive.
I carried on along the ridge line and started down the first 1000m descent, taking respite from the cold biting wind. It was slow going because what was already a very long, technical section of track had been turned into a mudslide from all the rain. I did a mixture of slow sliding and controlled ungraceful falling from tree to tree. My shoes became heavy and caked in mud negating all of the grip on the undersole. I couldn’t imagine how I was ever going to get back up this track for the third and final hill climb.
At the bottom I reached the Wharfedale hut, the first of 3 hut visits for the day. I was greeted by the most cheerful of ladies wearing tutu’s ready to tick my #16 race bib off the list. They offered all manner of food, drink and encouragement. After a quick selfie with them, because well, priorities, I headed off. I still had a long way to go.
The gradient gave only brief respite before the next climb began and I can not explain how relentless this felt. I could see no competitors either in front or behind me and I felt a strange sense of loneliness. I’m no stranger to being in the bush alone and normally love it but this day wasn’t like other days. Every now and again panic would rise as I thought about how much more of the course there was to go and this time the daylight allowed me to see the track in all its disgustingly steep glory. One foot in front of the other is all I could keep telling myself.
A passing runner said it was only 20 minutes to Black hill hut where I would do another check in. Thank goodness, I was just about losing the will to live with this ever continuing hill. I tried to listen to an audio book, my normal go to when I am in the hills, but unable to concentrate I turned on some music instead. This was good, this was getting me back into the rhythm.
On the next descent my knees started to hurt. They were a work in progress and I hadn’t had enough time to strengthen them as much as I would have liked in preparation. This slowed me down considerably but I kept ploughing on trying to ignore the pain and accept it as a partner that would accompany me on and off for the next few hours. Fortunately it was only the steep downhill sections that caused me pain, unfortunately the steep sections in this marathon are plentiful.
I reached the Wharfedale hut for the second time and ran through as quickly as I could saying farewell to my tutu adorned friends and set off to tackle the last climb of the day. It was that blasted mudslide again. I dug my poles in time after time and hauled myself up that section. It was utterly exhausting but was made slightly sweeter by the inhalation of a few chocolate biscuits half way up.
Once at the top of Mt Oxford for the second and final time I marvelled at how the LandSAR team were still there and still smiling. They had been there all day and much of the previous night looking out for competitors and making sure we were all accounted for, it must have been freezing! The cloud had somewhat cleared by this time so at least the views were better than we got that morning. I felt a new energy and confidence as now I knew that short of a catastrophe I was actually going to be able to cross the finish line and earn my completion medal.
On that final descent I said hello once again to the haunting knee pain but thankfully by the last 4 kms the terrain levelled out and I was able to find a rhythmic, pain free running pace on trails that felt comfortingly familiar. I smiled to myself and suddenly felt disappointed that the race was almost over. It had been an epic day out in the hills, definitely type 2 fun but still totally epic.
Finally I could see the finish line. The crowds had long gone home by this point so there weren’t many people around it. Slow and steady clearly doesn’t win the race but it does complete it. As I ran across the line to the cheers of race officials, my children, husband and friends to accept my completion medal I knew I would do it all again one day.
Reading this probably makes the whole event sound horrendous, a thing of torture to be avoided at all costs but what actually made this course hard for me was my lack of confidence in myself and in my body. I now know that my mind and body are so much more capable than what I give them credit for and that a bit of self-belief takes you a long way.
The conditions on the mountain that day were tough but exhilarating, they made the course even more unique and the finish line even sweeter. After all, if it were easy it wouldn’t be called New Zealand’s toughest marathon so if you want to see New Zealand in all its beautiful raw and wild glory then this is the race for you.
Useful Links:
Find out more and enter Mt Oxford Odyssey here:
https://mtoxfordodyssey.co.nz/
