2011 North Shore Coastal Challenge, race report

What an amazing race to write my first race report on here for. I'm going to format this in a way that gives all the useful facts and information first, followed the long-winded tale of the journey for those who want the full reading experience.

Race: North Shore Coastal Challenge, 33km Full Monty event
Date: Saturday 5th March, 2011
Race Description: 33km adventure run down the coast from Arkles Bay on Whangaparoa Peninsula to Windsor Reserve in Devonport, featuring considerable wading, rock-hopping, and a few swim sections.
Time: 4 hours, 10 minutes, 37 seconds
Placing: 49th equal of 118
Weather: Varied from overcast to heavy rain, temperature low 20's

Pre-race nutrition: Cup of coffee and 4 pieces whole grain toast for breakfast (2 peanut butter, 2 marmalade), 700ml of Powerade
Race hydration: Carried a 2L Hydra-pak (consumed ~1.7L), 150-250ml of Vitasport at each of 4 aid stations
Race nutrition: 1 GU Jet-blackberry gel 10 mins before race start, 4 Leppin Squeezy sachets, total ~2000kJ (plus Vitasport) and 480mg of sodium

Physical exertion: Hardest thing I've ever done.
Mental exertion: Right up there, pushing through the pain for the last 10km or so took some massive willpower
Would I do it again? Definitely.

The Race:
This race was recommended to me by my friend Lucy, who had done one of the shorter events previously (they also offer 6, 11, 16 and 22km races). Lucy has been quite a useful person to know as I've been getting into this competitive athletic lifestyle, she's done a few various runs, triathlons and such, and she always has some useful advice for me, and being recently incapacitated by impregnation she's been a spectator/supporter at a few events too (it's always nice to see a familiar face in the crowd when you're suffering through the last few kms of a hard race!).

The event website has a detailed description of the first 11km - the leg you only get to do if you're doing the 33km, and it sounded like a load of fun. There was also a recommendation from someone that you decide which distance you think you can do, then do the next longer one. I figured I could do 22km, having done a half-marathon a few months ago, so it seemed the only option was the full 33km - it can't be that hard, right?

Supplies taken on the run (ditched the sunscreen though)

For a change, I managed to have a pretty good sleep the night before, probably nearly 6 hours before waking up at 4:45am to get ready. Picked up my partner in crime: Ollie, who I had conned into running it with me, and headed to Devonport. The organisers put on a bus from the finish up to the start, to avoid the logistical issues of a point-to-point race, which unfortunately meant being at the venue two hours before race start. We arrived at Arkles Bay as daylight had just about fully taken hold, but with the overhanging gloominess of heavy rain clouds and light rain. The make-up of the fellow competitors was somewhat typical: mostly males, and mostly aged between 30 and 50 - that's not to say there wasn't still a diverse minority present; plenty of much younger, older, and more attactive faces in the bunch too! Everyone looking in good shape and all that we spoke to were friendly and in good spirits, despite the miserable weather.

Rounding Arkles Bay

At 8:30am, about 20 minutes before high tide, the hooter went and we set off along the beach, toward the first spit (I had to look this up to confirm I had the right terminology). Almost immediately we came upon what I had already discovered to be the most annoying of obstacles during the training session we'd done the week before: submerged rocks. There were significant wading portions throughout the race, and you would frequently be blinding stepping forward, not knowing if you were on a large rock and about to drop, or standing on a flat and about to trip over a rock. The first 4km was almost entirely wading in water between knee and waist deep, with a couple of short sections of rock-hopping over some very slippery rocks.

The nature of the course means that you're frequently moving in single-file, which in the first few km - before the group of 150 entrants had shuffled into order of pace, meant quite a bit of time stuck behind slower/less confident people, and some interesting/dodgy manoeuvres to get around people. This was actually quite fun, scrambling around the un-favoured path to try and get beyond someone before you reached the next point where you were reduced to single-file again.

Looking back across the first swim

In the water, part-way through the second swim

We hit the first of the two major swim sections at around 20 minutes in. It looked like probably 70-80m across - not much of a hurdle but pretty slow going when fully clothed with a backpack and running shoes on! Me and Ollie had both taken goggles with us so we could swim properly with our heads fully submerged for a nice, efficient body position. The hard part with this and the following swim was knowing at what depth to stop wading and start swimming, with swimming being marginally quicker once you got deeper than about your navel, but seeming to use more energy. The second swim came at around 45 minutes in, and was much longer - it looked like at least 200m to me. In both swims we seemed quite a bit quicker than those around us, largely I think because of our reasonable proficiency in swimming and the fact that we elected to swim a lot more where others would wade until they couldn't touch the ground. The second river crossing still took about 10-15 minutes (amazing considering I can do 200m in a pool in around three and a half minutes). Some cheeky bastard got picked up by the IRB (inflatable rescue boat) and ferried to the other side for both swims, despite the course descriptions being adamant that you should be capable of swimming 2x 200m if required.


We hit Long Bay, the 11km mark at around 1:30. My memory of many of the sections of the run is quite hazy, but I do remember there were a decent number of people gathered along the beach, huddled under raincoats and umbrellas, to cheer on the competitors - that kind of thing really makes a difference to me, I always get an amazing buzz and my spirits pick up immediately when a complete stranger is encouraging me (this was one of the things I loved about the Melbourne 1/2 marathon). At Long Bay a young fella, probably 13 or 14, started his leg of a team's relay as we were coming through. It can be quite humbling doing events like this, and having someone so young out-pacing you, but fortunately I'm pretty used to it. The little guy did slow down a lot once we got to the more technical parts shortly after Long Bay, we (mostly Ollie) helped him over a couple of tricky parts, but he disappeared some distance behind as the terrain got worse (he did eventually catch us sometime later). There were some very deep wading sections around rock faces between Long Bay and Browns Bay, with the tide now on its way out there were some quite strong currents to content with (we commented a few times that we didn't think the little guy would get through them, but apparently he did!). The other occurence that became increasingly regular on this section, as the rain began to come down a bit heavier, was falling of rocks, dirt and debris from the cliffs on our right. We were showered by some lighter stuff, and witnessed a few football-sized rocks come rolling down in front of us, which made us a little nervous.

I think it was shortly before we reached Brown's Bay, the 17km mark, that one of the more memorable events occurred. I was following Ollie along a narrow shelf of rock, elevated about 1.5m above the water and rocks below. Suddenly I heard a rumble and stopped just in time to see an enormous rock, roughly the size of a beach ball, come tumbling down from above and land directly at my feet, breaking in two. The rock and the debris it brought with it hit me in the arms on the way through, and scraped my leg, leaving me with a few minor cuts and bruises. It was a very terrifying moment, particularly as I began to consider the consequences had I not stopped in time, or if it had fallen just a split-second sooner or later. We continued on, a little shaken and a lot more nervous about getting too close to the cliffs.

Doing my best to look happy, 25km in

As we continued on we came across more and more of the slower runners and walkers doing the shorter distances, so many that it became a rarity to spot someone else doing the Full Monty - easily identified by the pink wrist tags we were wearing. We'd usually have a bit of a chat when we saw another Monty, check how they were doing, ask if they'd done it before - bit of small talk but noone really had the energy for much more than that.

We hit Milford Beach, the 22km mark, at about 3 hours. There was a short crossing there that is very deep to allow boats to get in and out to a slightly inland marina, and the current was absurd, I must've travelled at a 45 degree angle as I went through. I remember thinking that if this was the end, I would be very glad to stop running about now. 3 hours beats the longest I've done an athletic activity continuously by a good hour or so, and my legs were feeling very heavy.

The run from Milford to Takapuna is around 5km, largely along beaches and walkways, and despite suffering most of the way, it seemed like the time passed very quickly. I was surprised when we reached Takapuna beach, and actually thought the organisers must've screwed up the distances because I was sure I hadn't done 5km. Just by the Takapuna boat ramp there is a small camping ground, and again my spirits were lifted by a number of people sitting outside their tents and caravans, cheering us as we went through.

I do that a lot with my hand when I run

I barely remember anything between then and making the turn off the beach and onto the road for the final 1km or so. I do remember commenting to Ollie that I was really pleased that despite having been running for so long, and my legs feeling absolutely ruined, we were still regularly passing people and, important to me, I was very pleased that I hadn't given in to the pain, and was running all run-able sections.

It felt great to hit the road for the short final section, to run on some nice solid ground that doesn't slide away underfoot, or have an angle left to right that puts more weight on one leg. I tried not to think about finishing and stick to the mental strategy I've settled upon for long runs and swims - assume you're just going to keep going indefinitely and don't consider the thought of finishing until you have a minute or less to go. Finally, the finish line was in sight, I mustered all my remaining energy and picked up the pace a bit for a good finish.

Crossing the finish line was such a huge relief, I was immensely proud of what I had achieved, and greeted the ground with enthusiasm as I collapsed onto a nice soft patch of grass immediately after finishing. We stayed on the ground for probably 5 or 10 minutes, shared congratulations with a few competitors we'd chatted to during the run, and generally enjoyed the feeling of not being on our feet!

The run was a great experience, everything it promised to be, immensely challenging and accordingly rewarding. I'll be back next year, and hopefully with another year's endurance training I'll be ready to smash some time off this year's effort too.

Me, Ollie and one of the buddies we met along the way - enjoying the ground.