The Wee McGregor – Return to Racing

After the fiasco that was last year’s Moa Hunt my urge to race completely disappeared, I couldn’t be bothered training and I wasn’t feeling the love on the bike. Then there were the injuries over Christmas, the change in career and the focus on my recent tour that added up to me playing about on my bikes for a while and then training for long, slow rides over consecutive days, rather than fast paced races. Well all that has changed.

My eight days of riding from Greymouth to Cromwell has left me feeling fitter and stronger than I’ve ever felt in my life, and it is a great feeling. I was planning on doing the Vulcaniser last weekend, however torrential rain in North Canterbury lead to that race being cancelled and my focus shifted to the Wee McGregor race in Tekapo. The last time I did this race was 2 years ago, my broken elbow preventing me from doing it last year. Back then it was the biggest race I’d ever done and my only goal was to complete it. There was plenty of bike pushing and taking it easy during the race, but this time would be different.

I was really rather excited about this race and set myself a couple of goals. Firstly to make the top 5 in my division. The second to do it in 2hr 30min. Well the weather has something to say about my time goal, with a very strong headwind on the way out, which then swung round on the return journey to be a headwind for the last 10kms also. This meant that Rob Soothill who won it finished in just over 2hrs, while in the year I’d last competed the winner finished in about an hour 40mins.

The day didn’t start exactly perfectly either as I realised that although I’d bought delicious yoghurt and berries with me I’d forgotten my muesli, so I had to confront my nemesis once more and chow down on a One Square Meal bar. These are much more edible with yoghurt and berries. A bottle of V inside me after registration and a warm up ride out to the lake and back and I was rearing to go. The start was brutally fast and I quickly went backwards and found myself fighting the wind on my own. I saw a man not too far ahead of me and sped up to catch onto his wheel. That went well for a wee while, but on the first pinch climb he dropped me and I spent the next 10kms out on my own in no man’s land. Twas to be the story of my race.

After battling on for those 10 wind-swept kilometres I glanced behind me and saw that there was a largeish bunch a few hundred metres behind me. I dropped the pace and waited for them to catch me. I wanted to rest my legs a bit before I hit the climb because I was determined to ride nearly all of it this year. Note: the whole climb has only ever been ridden once so I certainly had no delusions of doing that. The bunch caught me and invited me to tuck in and worked extremely well, using hand signals and checking on other riders. It was great. We were soon catching those people up ahead of me, including the man who got away from me on that first pinch. In no time at all we were turning off the thick gravel and onto the rough, rocky, rabbit hole strewn farm track.

My legs felt great as I hit the first steepish section and soon almost everyone from the bunch was disappearing behind me. A young boy and a fit looking woman were up ahead and I just kept riding as around me people started walking. The wind was still howling in my face and when it wasn’t in my face it was threatening to push me over as I negotiated the rocky sections. Soon I’d left the young boy and the fit looking woman behind me as my legs ate the climb and the Anthem performed like a dream over the technical rocky bits. I still had to walk 4 stupidly steep, bouldery pinches, but having the light bike made all the difference in the world and I didn’t have to stop and get my breath back once. Slightly behind schedule I reached the top of the climb in 1hr 37 minutes, unlocked my suspension and took off. My legs felt amazing and for the first time in my life I felt what it was like to get to the top of a climb after working hard and still be able to power the descent. It felt damn good. I was soon barrelling along over the rocks and holes and ruts at nearly 30kph and the Anthem floated over everything like a dream. I hucked over rocks and powered through long rough sections. My elbow quickly started complaining at this bumpy rough treatment, but I just pushed the pain away and flew. I was completely by myself. I could see for miles in all directions and there was no one ahead of me and no one behind me. To my right the lake gleamed aqua-blue in the spots of sunlight breaking through the clouds. I looked at the Alps and thought that it was only two weeks ago I was alone on the other side of them, in lush green forests, rather than this barren but stunning high country land.

Ahead I could see the marker arrows stretched into the distance and I powered on. I turned into the next valley and could see a couple of riders far ahead. I decided I would catch them and as I got closer I saw one was wearing a bright pink top, which spurred me on faster, Women! Riding through the creeks and across the paddocks was a blur and soon I was very close to my prey. We headed up a little climb and turned off towards the river and soon I was in their dust as I raced down towards it. I surged through the river and passed them both on the climb out. It was so very satisfying I had to stop myself from yelling “YES!” at the top of my lungs.

Next came the most unpleasant section of the ride, along the river. The enormous rainfall of last winter had changed the river’s course and we were riding on freshly bulldozed track made up of big loose rocks, deep drifts of shingle and continuous bumpy uneven ground. It was hard work, but keeping up the speed helped greatly. I was very happy to reach the site of my previous downfall, where I fell into the river, for it meant the end of the horrid shingle track. I crossed the river with no problems and took off on the last 8kms of the course.

The wind struck me and I cursed heartily. I looked at my speedo and saw that my hopes of making it back in 2hr 30mins were dashed by the combination of sluggish shingle and this wind. It was meant to be behind me! I’d earned it by working so hard to get here. On I plowed. Up the next climb and into the direct blast of the wind. My speed dropped right off, but my anger at the injustice and heartlessness of the wind spurred me on. I hammered my legs and soon I reached the last crest of the race and looked down to the forest where the finish line waited. I took a swig of Replace, shifted up into a nice hard gear and yelled at the wind, “Let’s finish this thing!” Spending plenty of time alone on a race has you doing slightly crazy things like this.

I flew down off the hill, tucked in and pedalling hard. My speed shot up to over 40 and I grinned as I danced through the ruts and round the corners. Soon I was in the forest and smashing my way up the last few pinches. On the very last one I was almost at the top when I looked up and didn’t see a dirty great rock in front of me. I went straight into it and tipped off, laughing and cursing equally. I leapt back on the bike and powered down the finishing hill, blasting at 55kph towards the line. I felt like roaring with triumph.

My legs were toasted, but I had raced hard the whole race. I felt like a racer, rather than someone who participates in races and the feeling was amazing. I hadn’t achieved my time goal, but I was happy with 2hr 48 in the conditions and it is much better than me 3hrs 10 the last time I did it. At the prize giving I was stoked to get a spot prize of the Ground Effect Hot Toddy, which will come in handy with winter coming up. I was even more stoked when I got to see the list of times and saw that I’d managed to get 5th! Yeah.

On the way home in the car, I knew I’d gone as fast as I could and had ridden the rough terrain well. With a migraine pulsing through my head and stomach I was happy that I’d left everything out on the course. My racing buzz is back stronger than ever and I can’t wait to do the Hanmer 4hr race on the 10th of April.

The Molesworth Muster – Now with added Southerly

If there’s one thing I dread when biking for long distances, it’s a headwind. I find headwinds totally demoralising. Headwinds make you isolated, you can’t hear much except the wind blasting past your ears. Moving forward is a battle and what would normally be a pleasant ride is drawn out into an excruciating form of torture where time stands still. With this in mind I was worried about the weather for the Muster, there was talk of a southerly change, and a southerly is a headwind when riding the 80kms from Molesworth Station to Hanmer. A headwind the whole way.



Taking some very good advice I put all thoughts of wind and weather out of my mind as I prepared for the trip north. Food, clothes, camping equipment, tools and bike were checked and rechecked and then loaded into the car. My lovely hubby’s bike drew the short straw and had to travel on the back of the car which meant it got to be mummified in plastic to protect it from the dust.


Then we were off. This year’s journey was much more pleasant and relaxing, with no snow or bad weather to freak me out, although having some air-con in the car would be a good thing. Just lots of glorious sun. We made good time and had the tent and dinner cooking in the day light and then hooned about the camp on our bikes and took pictures of the stunning sun set. Molesworth Station is truly a gorgeous piece of New Zealand. Surrounded on all sides by towering mountain ranges, with deserted stretches of flats and beautiful emerald rivers flowing through it. The air is so clean and sweet, perfumed with rose-hips and the sky is a canvas of blue with amazing cloud paintings ever changing above the landscape. We are very lucky that the generous owner of Molesworth station loves to share this place with cyclists.


As the sun disappeared a white horse galloped across the ridgeline in front of me and being the superstitious type I took this lovely sight as a good omen. Soon after we retired into our cocoon of duvets in our wee tent and snuggled down to a warm night’s sleep. In the morning there was a light coating of frost on the outside of the tent, but not on the inside like last year, and I was feeling well rested and nervously excited. Breakfast and V were wolfed down and the car hurriedly packed and hubby was off on the journey back to Hanmer. As I sat on the hill watching the chaos of the departing cars and trying to get my toes warm I knew I was ready for the race and I was resigned to a headwind.

A little aside to put the Molesworth headwind into perspective. The headwind is cold, being a southerly and unremitting. For the fastest riders it means about 30mins extra on their time. That’s about 10mins extra for every hour on the bike. So if you’re super fast and did it in 2hrs 30mins last year, you could expect to do it in 3hrs this year. I hadn’t worked this out till after the race, but this wind meant I was in for an extra hour of riding. I’m glad I didn’t work it out till after the race, it would have been rather disheartening on the start line to know that.


I met up with Amy Laird and her mother waiting for the start and had a chat which was good for calming the nerves and in no time we were off on the 1.5km rolling start. Up the first pinch and Mrs Laird was gone in a cloud of dust. I see where Amy gets her biking legs from! Knowing what to expect this year made a huge difference. I eased into the first 10kms, did quite a bit of drafting to keep out of the wind and just focussed on finding a nice rhythm over the rollers. I very carefully crossed the ford just before Ward’s Pass and managed to keep my feet pretty dry. Objective 1, check.





Up Ward’s Pass I settled into a nice slow spin. Quite a few people went blasting past early on, but this didn’t worry me. Most of them blew up half way up and had to push, but I just kept pedalling. In fact I really enjoyed the climb. I could have pushed harder, but that wouldn’t have been clever so early on in the race. My whole attitude to hills has changed a lot and now I quite enjoy the challenge of controlling the pain. At the top I decided my feet were dry enough to blast down the other side without stopping and find some people to latch onto for the haul across Isolated Flat. My speed down the hill meant I caught up to some nice big men who provided excellent shelter from the wind. It was now, though, that I began to realise what a difference this wind was going to make. Last year I was blasting across the flat in a small bunch of women at 30kph, this year, with big burly men to drag me on we were lucky to reach 22kph. I managed to leap frog from one bunch to another faster bunch regularly across the flat and was feeling good as we forded another stream and I kept my feet dry again. I was really glad to be wearing my woolie socks. Up the next big climb to Isolated Saddle and I was feeling good enough to pose for the race photographer before quickly pulling over to remove my damp cotton socks from under my woolie socks and replace them with a pair of dry merino socks. Now I had two pairs of warm wool on and was ready to take on the chilly and fast descent down the other side.

Through the river valley was gorgeous and the next 20kms ground by pretty well. I was drafting as often as I could and concentrated on keeping my pedal stoke clean. At the 40 km point I made my next and last planned stop to eat lunch and massage some circulation back into my feet. I also donned my leg warmers as the chilly southerly showed no signs of abating and I wasn’t going to make the same mistake as last year. After resupplying my pockets with muesli bars and plenty of lollies for the last 10kms I headed off with a bunch of people and tucked in. Up any of the many small climbs they would pull away, but I ended up passing them again going down the other side. Soon I was battling the wind alone and hoping to catch onto someone. I did manage to hook onto the back of a lovely English woman. We chatted for a while and she was happy for me to tuck in behind her when the wind got nasty. We cruised along chatting and riding for a while and then I said goodbye as she headed up a hill faster than I could follow.

On I pedalled into the wind. Feeling a little disheartened that my speedo said I’d been riding for 3hr 30mins and I hadn’t reached the 60k mark yet. My spirits were lifted greatly as I passed the first spot where I had to stop and rest last year, when I was going through my “ride 30mins for a rest ordeal”. No stopping this year. My legs were definitely hurting but nothing I couldn’t ride through. My biggest worry was the consistent ache in my left knee and my lower back. In fact my knee had got so bad that I couldn’t put any decent power through it and when I stood to pedal and give my leg muscles a change of pace it was agony (no pun intended).

Down the hill past Accommodation House and then across the Clarence river, I caught up with quite a few people who had passed me on the climb. I keep hoping that the wind would die down and the promised change to nor-easterly would happen, but to no avail. I was really hurting now, but managed to hook onto a large bunch working well and going at a good pace. They got me through the next 7kms and then I knew I could make it without stopping no matter how bad my legs felt. I knew there were two more nasty little climbs before Jollies Pass and I just spun up them slow and steady, passing those who attacked the climb at the start and then had to walk. On the downsides I was flying, taking the chance to stand and stretch my back and work my thigh muscles. And then the turn off to Jollies was just ahead. I was stoked. I knew this next bit would hurt, but I also knew exactly what I was in for from riding it two weeks ago. I managed to occasionally find some shelter behind the Tui team, who I’d been seeing on and off since the start. This was a mixed blessing. On the one hand they were nice big guys who didn’t mind me drafting them, on the other hand they were wearing white lycra which was more than a little see through by the end. I watched in horror as they attacked the last ford and got soaked. It was too much for my eyes and I let them get away as I spun up the last climb. And then all the climbing was done and the best part of the whole ride was in front of me. I let out a whoop of joy and released me front forks and took off. It felt so good. All those painful kilometres that I’d ridden to get to this point melted away. I was flying, completely in control and focussed on going fast and staying safe. I blew past people like they were standing still, laughing and grinning. My tyres were glued to the shingle and I took each corner at speed. In no time I was down the hill and smashing the pedals. 30kph along the grass and I zoomed past the Tui boys. The onto the singletrack where I had to line up, I rode it this year and almost ran over a small child crossing the narrow bridge at the bottom. Up a steep tight pinch and then I could see my amazing husband waiting for me. I grinned and waved and wanted to smash it across the line, but there were too many people in front of me.

I was broken, but so happy. My speedo said I had 5hrs 24mins of riding and my finishing time was 5hrs 33mins. I finished in 18th place, ahead of 11 other women in my category and 120 other riders. If conditions had been the same at last year I would have finished in around 4 and a half hours! I hurt bad today. I really did push my pain boundaries again, it seems every time I push them I find new levels that I can ride through. I don’t think I’ll do the Molesworth again, I’m completely happy with how it went, it’s time for a new challenge.

A stock-take for Easter

For many many years Easter has been a bit of a non-event for me in the traditional scoffing of stupid amounts of chocolate bunnies and eggs way. This is because of an initial traumatic Easter experience when I was about 6 and then a conclusively horrific Cadbury’s factory incident in 5th Form (when I was 15 for those of you who don’t understand old school). This Incident involved a bus load of 15 year olds let loose in the reject egg room and told we could eat as much as we liked, but couldn’t take any chocolate out of the room with us. Add to this a 3 hour bus ride on very windy roads and I think you can guess the result. This one Incident scarred my tastebuds and stomach so comprehensively that to this very day I can’t eat Cadbury’s chocolate. In fact until last year I didn’t eat chocolate very often at all. Say once or twice a year! “My god, that’s unnatural!” I hear you say. Well maybe. But since marrying my beloved husband that has changed. He is a lolly monster and is capable of ingesting amounts of sweets and chocolates that would make mere mortals vomit. Copiously. Because of this there are often chocolates in the house. Early on in the relationship this was fine. I didn’t like chocolate after all. And then came the fateful day when the block of Whittakers Dark Chococlate with Orange came into the house. It even smelt good. It all came crumbling down. Over fifteen years of freedom from the tyranny of chocolate undone by that delicious dark goodness. Still I tried to tell myself that I still didn’t like chocolate, but there is no going back. So this Easter has been the first in many years when I have enjoyed the ample supply of chocolate eggs and bunnies that I’ve been missing out on. With this high calorie chocolate diet I decided it was important to do some biking and to really try and work out where I’m at now, both confidence and fitness wise.

My first goal, a hill climb. I haven’t been on a hill since I broke my elbow so I was feeling quite apprehensive. I decided on Rapaki as I knew it was freshly graded and should be a nice smooth start for someone as unfit as me. My goal was to get to the top, and hopefully only stop once or twice. Admittedly we cheated a bit by parking halfway up Rapaki Rd. Still I dropped into my granny ring and spun up and things felt pretty good. OK. This will be doable. I was a little concerned about the burning in my thighs by the first cattlestop, but decided that was just my lazy legs trying to get out of it. The 4wd track was S-M-O-O-T-H, no bumps whatsoever. This did mean there was a new hazard to be avoided. In addition to the usual runners and walkers there were now a large number of tiny dogs. Riding near tiny dogs is always slightly worrying as you never know what they’re going to do, and when you’re crawling up a hill at 4.5kph there’s not much you can do to avoid falling off if they take it into their crazy little heads to run under your wheels. Fortunately there were no small dog acting crazy situations and I spun up to where the climb plateaus out feeling really surprisingly good.

In fact I was feeling so good I re-evaluated of my goals for the ride. Now I wanted to get to the top without stopping and get there in under 45 minutes. My fastest recorded time up there last year was 32min 35sec so that seemed a realistic goal. Also the first few times I’d gone up there it took over 50 mins so it would be good to be better than that. Down the wee descent before the big final climb and I headed to the only rough bits on the track just to see how the bike felt with a bit of speed over the rough stuff. It felt pretty good. A bit weird, but good. Then I was into the last bit of the climb. Bleurgh. I wasn’t really up to chatting with my ever patient husband who had cruised up with me to this point so I told him to go for it and I’d spin up as best I could. And I was very pleasantly surprised with how well it went. In fact with the end in sight I decided I wanted to get to the top in under 42 mins and put a burst of speed on! I made it to the top in 42mins and 4secs (but that included some time on the road) and was stoked. I was definitely puffed, but I felt really good and for a first ride up a hill it couldn’t have gone better. Then came the descent. Oh yes, it was good. I was even popping little hucks of the few rocks in the track. It felt so good to go fast again. I felt balanced on the bike and completely in control. It made me want to head back to Vic Park and play on Sesame St, but common sense will prevail and I will wait till I’m stronger.

Easter goal number one – hill climb. Check

My other goal was endurance. I’m definitely doing the recreational race at Mt Somer’s next weekend. Its 20kms long and the furthest I’ve managed to ride so far is 16km on the road and 13km on the dirt. I wanted to make sure I could actually still ride 20km. So hubby and I headed to the sandpit for 2 laps. Last time I was there I couldn’t even do a full lap of the inner loop so doing over twice that was going to be a challenge. Hubby set off on his singlespeed with the agreement that he’d ride with me when he lapped me. I tried to start more conservatively than my usual all or nothing starts that leave me gasping after one small section. I sort of managed it. I’m definitely getting the hang of my new arm position and felt more balanced on the bike and was able to push the bike through the corners more. Also I did a few more jumps and they all went well.

I feel an aside is important here, just to reassure those of you who are currently reading this and thinking I’m insane to be doing any sort of jump after Christmas. Well, the “jumps” in Bottlelake are very very small, the kind of thing you’d be happy let your small child play on. The ones I broke my elbow on were proper, bigger jumps that required some skill (which I obviously didn’t have) to do well. I will not be trying to do that sort of jumping in the near future, please be reassured.

Where was I? Oh yes, little jumps. The little jumps actually felt better than they had before my crash. I felt really balanced and loose on the bike and seemed to hit them perfectly. This did my confidence the world of good. By the end of the first lap, yes I managed to do a whole lap, I was hurting, particularly in the legs. I decided that I might have to do a reduced length second lap, but I’d see when hubby caught up (which should be soon) before deciding. I was using my gears a lot more in the second lap, but I kept going and even managed to get up the nasty nasty pinch in the middle (just) and just kept going. No short lap for me. I came here to do 2 laps and I would do 2 laps. By the end my legs felt completely spent, but I did it. 26kms and my hubby didn’t lap me. He did manage to do 3 laps in only a little more time than it took me to do 2, but hey, I’ve got a broken arm. Despite feeling physically ill I was stoked to have ridden more than double the distance I managed last time and now feel quite happy that I can at least complete the race next weekend before the prize giving starts.

Easter goal number two – endurance. Check

All in all, a very satisfying regaining of much confidence. Now I’ve just got to get my outfit for the race sewed up and it’ll be all go for next Sunday. I can’t wait.

Who said I could walk?

After my initial enthusiasm to be back on the bike, the resultant achy sore elbow convinced me that maybe I shouldn’t be getting so excited and riding 3 days in a row just yet. However with my appointment with the surgeons at the hospital on Monday and my physio giving me some weight lifting exercises (no I’m not learning the Clean and Jerk) I decided this morning would be a good morning to commute by bicycle again. It hurt my elbow less and the rest of me slightly less than last time so maybe there’s hope for doing the recreational race at Mt Somers on the 19th of April after all. I’ve sensibly realised that barring an intervention by supernatural powers I just won’t be up to the sport race. 20 fairly flat kilometres should be doable with a month of preparation.

In the meantime I’ve been doing more swimming and my hubby and I headed over to the West Coast for the weekend to do a bit of walking about in the bush. We had fantastic weather and did some lovely walks, and I discovered that the muscles you use for biking are not the same as the ones you use for walking and that my walking muscles didn’t know what hit them. I was hobbling round like an old woman on Saturday night! Luckily a couple of Monteiths sorted me out nicely.

We did a really gorgeous 3 hour return walk up the Pororari River, spotted some birds and stick insects, threw stones in the river, and generally had a lovely time. That night we got eaten alive by sandflies watching the sun set at the beach a couple of minutes walk from the bach we were staying in. Little buggers. It wasn’t until we got back to Christchurch that I felt the full force of their itchy menace.

Being on the Coast was very inspiring and I have a number of poems brewing away in the back of my mind, including one about the fantastic wekas that frequented our accommodation, cheeky sods. Much amusement was had from watching them sneak into the house and chase each other round outside. Silly chickens.

The second day we stopped in Arthurs Pass and did more walking, which once more left me crippled. Ahhhh, the staggering around after another 2 ½ hours of walking, so amusing to my unsympathetic husband. I did enjoy being in the bush though and despite the sandflies I’m really keen to head back over for more exploring. However this might not be such an easy thing to do in the future as I’ve made the big decision to commit to doing the Alpine Epic. I’ve lined myself up a coach, the lovely Andrew from Hub Cycles, my local bike shop. Now I just need to be able to ride for more than 30 minutes without feeling sick or my arm wanting to fall off and I’ll be away. It’s going to be quite a challenge, but I’m looking forward to really seeing how far and hard I can push myself.

PS: I'll put up a few photos from the trip at the weekend

Happy Blogday to me!

Yep, today is my blogday. My blog is one year old so where are the presents?

Unfortunately there are no presents because it turns out my weight goals were a tad unrealistic; well a complete fantasy. However I have learnt that the weight thing really doesn’t matter that much, not at the level I race at anyway, that level being rather low. I know that my diet is very good, and that once I can get back into a routine my fitness will keep getting better. This year I’m going to let my weight take care of itself. So no shiny new, lighter bike for me, but I am happy with my achievements so far, even if my new and improved ability to break myself has hindered my racing ability for the few past and coming few months. Now its time for some new goals, but I have a problem. The one thing I can’t stop thinking about seems so far beyond me I’m almost afraid to write it down.

I really want to do the Alpine Epic. 5 stages. 4 days. So very huge and scary.
Stage 01 - Mt Somers to Inverary 35km, 800m ascent. So that’s almost the Moa Hunt right there and that just about killed me.
Stage 02 - Inverary to the Rangitata River 35km, 1250m ascent. More climbing than I’ve ever done in one day (lets be honest, more climbing than I’ve done in 2 days), and that’s with the previous day in my legs already.
Stage 03 - Rangitata River to Rangitata Gorge 17km, 500m ascent. A time trial, straight after stage 2, sounds like a piece of cake? Doesn’t it?!
Stage 04 - Rangitata Gorge to Sherwood Hall 84km, 2000m ascent. Oh. My. God! Two Thousand metres of climbing inside 84ks of riding. Cue insane laughter.
Stage 05 - Sherwood Hall to Tekapo 72km, 1750m ascent. As if stage 4 wasn’t bad enough, this is beyond crazy. Day 4, stupid amounts of riding inside the legs and then another 72ks and 1750m of climbing. It’s just not right. Even pootling round the Redwoods in Rotorua I was knackered by day 4.

But I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s such a huge challenge, so far beyond my current capabilities, it would be such an awesome achievement. The thing is, I just don’t know if it’s realistic. I’m currently less fit than I’ve been in the last few years, but I’m hoping once I can ride regularly again that my fitness should spring back pretty quick. Is a year enough time to go from struggling through 80kms with a net altitude lose to doing day after day of big climbs and big kms? I think I’m mentally tough enough to do the training, but who do I get to train me? Will my gammy knee, and now gammy elbow, be up to carrying my heavy bike up hike-a-bike sections? Am I setting myself up for huge disappointment?

A part of me just wishes this idea would go away and I could settle down to setting some challenging but realistic goals like doing the Molesworth in under 4½ hours , completing a 6 hour solo at the McLean’s Island Day Nighter, completing the Canterbury XC series next year (assuming there is one) and doing the Moa Hunt in under 3 ½ hours. Maybe I could throw a new race into the mix, like completing the Lake Tekapo Pursuit, 90kms in the middle of winter? Or head up to the North Island and be part of a 4 man team for the Moonride or maybe a 2 person team for the Day Night Thriller?

So many questions. For my blogday the only present I want is advice. What could my goals be?