Kepler Challenge 2012

The Kepler Challenge is a 60km (37 mile) running race in New Zealand’s beautiful Fiordland region, held on the first Saturday in December.  The race is over the Kepler track, which is one of the country’s great walks and for sane people is a four day tramp/hike.  On the website, the race is described as going “up sharply, down steeply then tailing off to a long slow incline”.  That’s about it.  Total elevation is 1350 metres, with 15.7 km ascent and 22 km descent.  This posting is what it was like for me.

My nervousness had been building in the days before the race.  I went into a sort of hibernation two days out, just trying to keep grounded and calm.  I wanted to block out work and all the other day to day stuff and relax and think about the event.   A cold front was heading for Fiordland and the mountain tops, which I would become acquainted with, were forecast to be cold and buffeted by very high winds.  I had seen the pictures of the alpine portion and the track had sharp drops; could I be blown off the mountain?  All the other little last minute dramas were going on: did I have enough gels/bars, how much water did I need to carry, what about electrolytes, how was I going to fit all the compulsory gear into my pack?  I even went to the butchers shop to get my compulsory gear vacuum packed, so they didn’t take up so much room in my pack, which was an apparently great idea, but you couldn’t see what it was and I knew it needed to be checked at registration.  I took them out of the vacuum packs before the race. 

The race briefing on the Friday evening was a typically Kiwi affair.  Bone dry humour from the race organisers.  The weather was going to be OK, which was my main concern.  Everyone looked so fit and there seemed to be very few runners of my size/age.  It was a really good feeling being amongst this group, with lots of positive energy in the room.

It’s hard for me to sleep before a big event and this was no different.  I’ve noticed it doesn’t really matter to my performance even if I have a fitful night.  The runners gathered in the dark to catch the bus to the start line at the control gates in Lake Te Anau.  The first thing I asked the guy next to me was had he done the race before.  I overhead the same question being asked all over the bus.  If you haven’t done it before, you have so many questions and doubts and you just want someone to tell you that it will be OK.  In fact, if you have made the start line and you are not injured, it will be OK.  


The race hooter sounds at 6am and you are off.  The dawn light was silvery with low cloud about and you could see Mount Luxmore in the distance.  The Lake was still and the promised wind wasn’t a factor at that stage.  I was situated at the back of the field, seeding myself around the 10 hour mark finishers.  I have found in previous races that I have done that I tend to finish in about twice the time of the winner.  In previous years, the winner of the Kepler did it in about 4 hours 45 mins, so as a rule of thumb I thought I would be a bit under 10 hours.  I checked that time with the times of last year’s finishers and that would have put me in about the last 20% of finishers, which was again about where I normally end up for off-road races.  How accurate I was!

The race starts slowly as the runners around me find their position and form into single file as the track begins.  I chat away to some people and we talk about the day ahead of us.  A number of people around me are from the US and Australia and there are a lot of international runners that do the race, which adds to the flavour and excitement of the event.  The track winds around the lake for about 6km through native forest.  The footing is soft and the running is easy.  You catch glimpses of the lake as you go and it is all a bit magical.  Then you are roused from this dreamy state and you turn up the hill.

The climb up from the lake towards Mount Luxmore is tough.  There is no sugar coating it, it is a hard slog.  The front runners must run this section in order to finish in under 5 hours, but this wasn’t an option for me.  I have a threshold gradient in my head and I walk if it’s over that threshold.  Anything less than that, I try and run, even if it’s only for a short distance.  That approach worked until the last 5-10km, when I needed to walk a bit more.  So, I walked a lot in the climb up to Luxmore, but would break into a run as soon as it did level off.  Anyone who has done any research into the Kepler knows to expect this climb and I did a lot of my training on hilly trails in preparation.

Then, after about an hour of climbing, you come out of the forest into the alpine section.  The trees are left behind and the scrubby, barren mountainous section begins.  And the temperature plummets.  It’s not long before the long sleeved tops come out, then the hat and gloves and then the windbreaker.  I ran for a bit more up to the Luxmore check point.  One of the highlights of this race is the effort put in by the local Te Anau community into making this a great day for the competitors.  The first check point was manned by clowns.  You are pretty tired by this point and to be greeted by a clown, who is checking you have your compulsory gear with you, lifts your spirits more than you would imagine.  I topped up my water, took some electrolytes, bananas and oranges.
 

Then it’s off to do the alpine section proper.  For some reason, I had it in my mind that the Luxmore checkpoint was the highest point.  No way and the track winds up and up.  The wind is building and I was buffeted by strong cold gusts.  Sometimes these were behind me as I climbed an ascent, which was so welcome.  I stopped occasionally to clear my shoes of little stones and looking back at Lake Te Anau was stunning.  I take a few photos, which include the helicopter, which hopefully is taking supplies in and out and not picking up injured runners!  You reach a point where you can see Lake Manapouri in the distance.  The hills that the track traverses seem to be getting steeper at this point and the ups and downs continue, with lots of walking then running then walking etc.

 

You pass another check point and the nice man checking the numbers takes a photo of me with Manapouri in the distance.  I probably enjoyed this section most of all.  It was real mountain running, harsh, cold but stunning.  And it wasn’t as tiring as I had been expecting. 



Then you hit the scariest part, as the track runs along a ridge with steep drop offs on either side.  You had to just block out from your mind all the things that could go wrong.  But the wind seemed to be getting stronger, with powerful gusts hitting me as I tottered along the track.  I tried to keep a little low along this part and leant into the wind.  I didn’t like this bit.  Then the track heads steeply down to Iris Burn.
 

This is the other section of the Kepler that you hear about.  The descent from the Hanging Valley shelter to the valley far below is hard, with stairs and dozens of switch backs to contend with.  It’s a different type of tiredness and in many ways it’s a relief from climbing, but it doesn’t take long for your quads to feel numb.  A lot of runners overtook me in this section, but I took it pretty quietly with baby steps on the steep descent.  Then you drop into the forest again, as the valley opens up beneath you and the temperature increases.  The wind is no longer a factor.  The Iris Burn check point is about half way and I arrived to a Christmas grotto, to be greeted by Santa, elves and reindeers handing out drinks and food.  I was five hours into the race and someone mentioned that the first runner had just crossed the finishing line.  

 

I was feeling OK at Iris Burn.  The track began to flatten out and I could get into a nice, consistent rhythm.  My pace increased and I started to overtake a number of runners.  This was the time I was starting to have my first fleeting fantasies about a sub 9 hour finish – but I tried to block out thoughts of the finish as soon as they popped up as there was still so far to go.   I hadn’t used my ear phones up to this point as I wanted to save my music lift until I was getting tired.  When I seemed to be alone on the track, I sang along to the songs, which I always enjoy.

At the race briefing the previous night, the last year’s winner was talking about the race really beginning at the 30km point.  I could see what he meant now, as my initial flush of pace was fading.  The discomfort was getting greater and I tried to go into a sort of a meditative state to handle the discomfort.  I’m sure this isn’t real meditation, but I find I can cope better if I try and calm my mind and concentrate on the rhythm of the run. 

The next 20km through the valley was beautiful, but I tend not to appreciate my surroundings when I am this tired.  I made a note to go back and walk back through here one day to fully take it all in.  I was beginning to have emotional swings from feeling quite low, to feeling almost elated.  This was unlike anything I had previously experienced and it became more pronounced as the hours went on.  Sometimes I almost felt like crying, which is totally weird and I was snapped back by the fear of humiliation if I burst into tears at the finishing line.

My pace was dropping further and I was beginning to cramp up in my right leg after each check point.  I walked after each check point to shake off the cramp and broke into a run as soon as the cramp faded.  Well, I say a run, but it was probably only marginally faster than walking even on the flat.  I forced myself to run, no matter how slowly, except on the hills.  With less than 10km to go, I was trying to just keeping the legs moving forward.  The mental feeling of calm had moreorless gone and my mind was churning.  Just keeping it all together was difficult. 

At a certain point I could hear the loudspeaker from the finish line.  I have learned not to trust the hope that this signals you don’t have far to go at that point.  The sounds from finish line loudspeakers seem to travel for long distances!  Maybe they should reduce the volume on those things.  I was swapping places with a group of about 10 runners, as one of us would slow to a walk as other shuffled past, only to be passed again as you begin to walk.  I let myself think about what it would be like to finish.  I was imagining collapsing at the finish line.  Just lying down.  I was worried other finishing runners would trip over me.  I thought about falling into the lake in exhaustion.  I knew my wife would be waiting at the finish line and was looking forward to seeing her.

A few kilometres out, I heard that we could get in under 10 hours.  There was about 20 minutes to go and I didn’t feel confident I would break 10 hours if I walked, so I pressed on with the run-shuffle. There were more spectators on the sides of the track and their cheering gave me another boost.  Someone said there was only a couple of hundred metres to go and I picked up the laughingly slow pace.  Rounding the corner, the finish line was in sight and I crossed the line with a huge smile on my face.  The announcer said something about me and where I was from etc.  My wife burst through the crowd to give me a hug.  I looked back at the timer and it showed 9 hours 56 minutes.

I didn’t collapse at the finish and I didn’t burst into tears.  Hobbling around trying to get to the car, I just kept smiling and felt flushed with relief and satisfaction, happy and exhausted.  It was the most difficult thing I had done physically in my life.  The Kepler Challenge is a well organised, fun race to participate in.  2012 was the 25^th anniversary of the race and I’m keen to do this all again next year.