Rage Running Mt Herbert

Rage Running Mt Herbert

Seven days ago, I made the rash decision to do two runs in one day: a 20k course recon for the Crater Rim Ultra and follow it up in the afternoon with a 50k run at the Cancer Society's Relay for Life at Rolleston. Here's my run report.

Friday afternoon 15 March 2019, and my head was full of the usual pre-race checklist and prep: 3:30pm leave school, replenish the TP in the 1st aid kit, pack vest, make cheese and marmite sarnies, get Wildthings soft bottles out of freezer to fill with Tailwind, layout clothes, hydrate, eat dinner early, Gurney Goo the feet and be in bed by 9pm for a 4:30am start. At 2:27pm a text from my LTL's wife changed all that:

Is your school in Lockdown?  Gunshots fired all around the city. 

Instead of finishing an email to a parent, and going home, there are hushed meetings with our Principal. Decisions are made for the safety of our students on limited information, and frantically executed before the end of the school day.

Compartmentalise:

 Four hours of calmly supporting students and staff while quietly checking for texts from my own children, also in lockdown elsewhere...or so I thought. The eldest is on a bus home from the Climate Change protest in the central city. A flutter of emails from the run directors are answered, as we decide cancel Parkrun Hagley in the morning. The Relay for Life is also cancelled. The Mt Herbert course recon will go on, regardless. It's safe. Hubby's safe. The kids are now safe. Finally, smiling reassuringly at ashen, stone faced parents, with restrained panic in their eyes, as they searched for their child in a sea of uniformed faces. Staying until the last child has gone. I arrive home after 7pm, exhausted to hugs and a happy home with dinner done. Eat. Gulp down glass of water. Quick race prep. Bed. And underneath this, all the while, a putrid ball of simmering outrage festers in the pit of my stomach.

It's common not to sleep well before a big run. What's not common is to woken by the constant sounds of light planes and helicopters patrolling the city. The alarm sounds at 4:30 to begin the usual race day rituals. Luckily, they are well practiced, like a self soothing mantra.

The rage bubbles back as I drive toward the orange flashing lights of the cordon on Blenheim Rd. I don't want to see them, even in the distance. Because I can't be sure my usual route has been opened to traffic in the night, I've had to detour. Add on another 15 minutes. Will I be on time?

I park up at Gebbes and two minutes later Jamie arrives. We stow his drop bag in the boot of my car. He's mapping the whole 52k and 30k course today to put on the Crater Rim Ultra website. On the drive to Lyttleton we share our thoughts on the events of yesterday. It's dispicable, what's been done. At Lyttleton, we park and note it's much warmer than we expected and joke about how far away the car is from the dock. We'll run an ultra just getting there. A chuckle.

Rachel greets us at the first ferry of the day. She's decided to do the whole 52k, which delights Jaime as he loves a good natter on a run. Rachel comes to stretch class at the Frontrunner on Monday nights, so we know each other, but not well. She always smiles, and she has this air of unflappable calmness about her. She's peaceful to be around. We talk about Friday's events and she comments quietly she was on shift in ED at Christchurch Hospital, which begins a whole new conversation. Suddenly I have someone concrete to thank for caring and helping the survivors. She has someone to thank for caring for the kids. The ball of rage loosens. We talk of our children, our professional responsibilities and how we cope when faced with these crises.

At the wharf, Jamie takes charge of the conversation as our ascent begins. It's a gloriously calm, blue grey, high clouded morning. Rachel and Jamie take the lead as we climb and I listen to the conversation and marvel at their ability to natter as I puff valiantly behind. The farm track up to Mt Herbert is a bit of a grunt. 916m in about 9k. At this time of year there's cattle on the hills so the never trust a cow pat rule applies. When you get high enough you can see over  the harbour to Lyttleton and glimpse our city on the other side. It's clear and still and a low cloud spreads like soft white tentacles, hugging the tops and sliding into valleys of the crater rim.
"Now that's something you don't see every day," says Jamie with reverence. Rachel smiles and takes a photo. It's serene beauty soothes my stomach a little more. A cheese and marmite sandwich comes out and on we go.




About three quarters of the way up, is my favourite part. It's where you are high enough to look over Bank Peninsula and see the surrounding valley ridges and their desolate volcanic beauty. Last time I climbed this was in the race last year, and it was fog bound. We continue on with  Rachel and Jamie holding a lively conversation about the history of the Crater Rim Ultra and his plans for it's future. Jamie is a gifted conversationalist and always entertaining. He's happy to hold an entirely one sided conversation for hours on end, or at the very least till we start downhill and I can participate. His love of running and our mutual passion for sharing it with others is infectious. Rachel shares her passion for helping others by fundraising through her running as well, so there's more stories to tell. The sickening little ball is beginning to dissolve.

By the time we reach the top in just on 2 hours. Not bad for my first mountain since Tarawera. I can finally join in the conversation so we natter about nothings on the down hill. Being volcanic and clay, it's technical and you really have to pay attention, especially when the grass is still wet from yesterday's rain. We debate the merits for going in front, as opposed to behind, Mt Bradley. There's a scramble of hands and knees in the small bush clad part, but I vote it stays in, even though I cried the first time I did the course there. It's part of the experience. Watching Rachel's nimble feet is like watching a masterclass of trail running. She quickens her cadence and dances over the rocks. The intense concentration of the downhill zig zag section into Packhorse hut inspires a whoop of joy from me. Time for another cheese and marmite sandwich, this time with chicken chips. The trick is to put the chips in just before you eat it, otherwise there's nothing worse than soggy chips. Hmmmm.... full of salty goodness. Jamie tries a selfie and we laugh as he struggles to figure out how to turn the camera around on his phone.

For the final leg, we carry on through the forest block, get a teeny bit lost on a logging detour and finally get back to the car at Gebbes Pass just on four hours after we started.  Heather is waiting for us at Gebbes to take over as run support. We transfer Jamie's supplies to her car and send Rachel and Jamie off on the next part of the course.

The putrid ball of rage has gone. It's been outrun or run ragged, I'm not sure which and now I don't care either. It's been replaced by a quiet, shared determination to do more good. To help our community heal ourselves by providing opportunities to run together: Crater Rim, Parkrun and Achillies.

I've had my time to run away.

Now it's time to turn,
and stand,
and fight for those can't,
yet.

...and I've raised just over $600 for the Cancer Society in seven days...