Thankyou to the volunteers

A few reflections on what makes my adventures possible

Audrey Hepburn once said: "As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands — one for helping yourself, the other for helping others."

Many of the great adventures in my life would not have been available, or even possible, had it not been for the hard work of a small, committed group of volunteers and friends.

This was brought home to me on last Saturday afternoon, as I approached the half-way point in the Tararua Mountain Race. The TMR is one of New Zealand's oldest mountain races, having first been raced in 1990, and winds its way 32km up and over the east of the mountain ranges to the west. Last weekend was my debut. On the day, I had climbed to about 1,000 metres altitude with my race team-mate Dan, to approach the first station at Alpha Hut. We were mid-pack in the race wave, but for me it had felt like a long, slow haul up the mountain - and I had developed a pain in the neck. Given the myriad of medical complications I carry with me these days, I have to be cautious. Dan called out to ask how I was. A pain in the neck, I said - about 2 or 3 out of 10, so I’d better slow down. So much for our race position - but Dan stuck with my slower pace, asking every 20 mins or so for my pain-scale and heart-rate level.

We reached the Hut. I plonked down on a patch of moss and slurped a flask full of electrolytes. A marshall spotted me and walked over. He scanned my face, narrowed his eyes and after a pause, asked how I was. OK, I said - just need a sit down for a bit, a bit of a pain in the neck. I sat for 20 minutes or so until I felt better.

As I got up the Marshall asked: Do you feel ok to go on? I did. Have you got someone with you? Dan said yes, I’m running with him - we’ll take it easy. The marshall nodded, satisfied, and off we went: a cautious but continuous pace through the alpine forest and its bog-patches, rambling over the tussock, past the tarns and up the scree to the summit of Mt Hector, at 1,500 metres, meeting several more safety Marshalls and LandSAR volunteers along the way.

A LandSar safety marshall’s tent, perched along in the Tararua Mountain race course last Saturday.

At Mt Hector, we stopped for a check-in and a photo beside the memorial cross at the summit. I was on back on familiar territory; I could see out toward Kapiti and home. My heart rate had calmed and I was feeling good. It was all downhill from here. Dan and I both knew the route down well. Let gravity do the work, I said. We skipped down through the alpine rock trail towards Kime Hut, where I took on some more fluid, and after another precautionary pause we strode off to the next station at Field Hut.

After Field Hut, the slope pulled us down, winding quickly towards the finish across the bridge at Otaki Forks. Going with the flow, and feeling decidedly upbeat, we reeled past numerous other runners. We crossed the line at 7 hours, 44 minutes and 52 seconds - not record pace, but enough to win the team pairs event overall, by a margin of 2 seconds. Race director Andy Carruthers sat me in a chair and offered to fetch me a sports drink. Yes thanks, I said - I’ll need that.

It wouldn’t be possible for me to enter, tackle and get through these sorts of things without the knowledge that my back is covered - by all the Marshalls, the aid stations, the well-drilled organisers and network of safety personnel.

It felt especially fitting to win the teams race with Dan. For each major race we have prepared to run together over the years, he has received the kind of run-down from me that lesser mortals would shy from: what my plan for handling choking and aspiration would be; to not be alarmed if I cough, splutter and stop; the steps I’ll take if I start choking or bleeding from the mouth, the criteria for which he should summon a helicopter; which surgeon he should call for what complication - these have all been part of Dan’s pre-race briefings over the past few years. Undeterred, he has had my back.