The Goat, 2023

Hard for the body, good for the soul

The other day, after a few months of my typically unconventional preparation, I lined up for my sixteenth Goat Tongariro race, on Mt Ruapehu. Nothing comes close to the spectacular, punishing terrain of The Goat.

People often ask me what the distance is. It’s twenty kilometres, as the crow flies, but that’s if you have wings. No crow would be mad enough to go on foot, over twenty kilometres at 1600m altitude; scampering, clambering and straining along volcanic rocky paths, down into alpine bogs, up the side of a waterfall, claw over a martian lava-scape and crawl up a final mile-long extra hill-climb to the finish.

So, it would seem to take a special kind of madness. Partly, this is the call of the wild, but for me now, it’s the call of the soul - a chance to spend time with special friends I’ve made over the years because of this race; to share time in an inspiring environment, swap a few stories and laughs.

This time, as with one or two previous times for me, there were complications in the preparation and the now familiar dollop of uncertainty about whether or not I’d make it to the start line. Best to think of what might be, rather that what might not, I reckon. I signed up in hospital last year, knowing that with a little help from my friends, I’d make it.

Of course, there’s a difference between ambition and ability. I had, and am, a complex collection of problems to navigate. Aside from the extraordinary medical team who in the past year have guided me through life-saving surgeries, pneumonia, sepsis and for good measure, Covid-19; and along with the critical of support my family and friends - there are several important people to thank in particular. These people have been crucial for me to get back in the mountains and to be able not just be at the start line, but also at the finish.

Jo, my expert cancer rehab physio from Pinc & Steel, put me on the path, working with me on cardio and strength, cross-checking through out with my surgeon and medical team for safety; consulting others at the boundaries of her own specialist expertise.

Liv, the SLT from my multidisciplinary head & neck cancer team, worked with me over months to experiment, figure out and practice drinking water from a bottle. At first, I was unable to even fit a bottle nozzle in my mouth, let alone swallow anything without choking - but we persisted, I practised different techniques, and it all worked out.

Phillipa, my dietician, helped me manage my daily health and went the extra mile, helping me figure out how I could manage my training and endure a race like The Goat without being a food eater like most humans. I haven’t eaten a meal since last February; I live now on powered drink - so with help from Phillipa, I’ve learned how I manage preparation and recovery for mountain races on a liquid diet, without compromising my health or daily life with family.

It’s all proof, I think, that no one summits a mountain alone; many, many people help us find the right path.

Up the infamous Waterfall section of The Goat this year

Despite the suffering, some moments need to be seized.