But will the deer be impressed?

Last updated 09:22 25/06/2014
Jo McKenzie-McLean

Reporter Jo McKenzie-McLean completing the first 5km of the 10km Rustic Run near Cromwell.

Related Links

Uphill battle to say no

Relevant offers

Features

For flashy flower heads, think bearded irises Going without is a Lotta struggle A lovely lunch for two Oh, for return of common sense Designers take pop-up option Potted fruit trees are the way to grow Sublime salmon and sumac salad Boy becomes Old Man at camp On the path to parliament Celebrating lamb, glorious lamb ...

Jo McKenzie-McLean is a woman on a mission – lose  weight, get fit, compete in the Northburn Station 50km Mountain Run in March. She reports on her progress.

I have been clambering up a lot of craggy Central Otago hill country the past couple of weeks and a thought that often has passed through my head is that I'm glad ''the roar'' is over.

I have not only run 5km through fog across hilly farmland, but also most recently the 10km Rustic Run at the Goldfields Mining Centre near Cromwell.

I am still early on in this exercise journey and was feeling quite anxious as I sorted through ''appropriate'' racing gear for the run.

I fossicked through my drawers – I was told to prepare for freezing temperatures – and grabbed my three-quarter stretch pants, a pair of woollen work socks (because all my gym socks are cotton and holey), a merino top, headband and my fancy new neck scarf thing that lots of endurance athletes apparently wear.

Somehow it did not quite work with my outfit.

Anyway, throwing a banana in at the last minute, I farewell my two chicken-poxy children cosied up by the fire and get a good luck from hubby as I run out the door.

Six weeks ago, I would never have been getting up early to head out of town for a 10km race up some rocky Central Otago hill.

On arrival at the Goldfields Mining Centre, I was pleased to see I did not have to be worried about not looking the part. There was a  woman  dressed up as an Indian and teenagers wearing Rastafarian dreads.  I fitted right in.

In a typical fluster, and having packed my gear with so much consideration, I left half of it jammed in my pocket as I ripped my jacket off, threw it at my mum and took off.

I am a vocal person – I often snort when I laugh, I sigh heavily when I breathe  and when I exercise I grunt, groan and occasionally swear. I found myself apologising to people running past me for the strange animal-like noises bursting from me as I lugged myself up a steep hill. 

If there were hunters around, they would think they were on the tail of a mighty fine stag.

I was amazed at people's reactions. ''Not far to go,'' some said. ''Good on you – nearly there,''  others shouted out.

One girl running in the opposite direction even held her hand out to me for a high-five.

As I ran exhausted to the finish line to the sound of a cow bell clanging me in, cheers erupted from my parents, aunt and a few friends.

''I'm so proud of you,'' Mum gushed.

It was slightly over the top – particularly when there were people  doing half and full marathons, climbing 30-degree hills on hand and knee – but I'll take it.

Ad Feedback

- The Southland Times

Comments

Special offers

Featured Promotions

Sponsored Content