It's been two years since I've last seen Dad. The last time was when I came home six months after the earthquake that ruined our home. This time it's for my brother Toms wedding to the girl he met and moved in with two weeks after said earthquake so a much more positive visit.
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| Dad, Grandma and Wendy after picking me up from the airport. |
So as I hadn't seen him in two years and hadn't been able to contact him for several months this year due to him being on an expedition through Africa. I sent Dad a message asking if he could take a day out to go for a run/bike with me and catch up. He could and we are. We natter all the way there about what's been happening and things have changed a lot for both of us so it's nice.
Then before we know it we're there, parked up and putting on the last bits of kit. I'm running, he's cycling next to me as his knees don't like running too much these days. I've got a couple of extra layers on as the forecast is potentially going to turn bad although it's really hard to say so I've got calf guards on that I can whip off if it decides to warm up instead.
It's a couple of kilometres on road before a left turn and then we're straight onto the first hill. I purposefully asked Dad to set aside a day so that we could hit the hills as I wanted to get a bit of time up here while I was home. It's a pretty decent gradient to begin with so I'm straight into a power walk and he's straight into a low gear.
I haven't yet had much of a chance to properly talk to him about the Tour D'Afrique. It's a four month cycle from Cairo to Cape Town that he completed earlier in the year. I've been pretty keen to find out more about what it was really like so start asking a bit more about that.
It sounds mental. In one country small children are running up to the cyclists to ask for autographs. The next country they are throwing rocks at the riders. The next country again he's witness to an execution in the desert. The more I find out the more in awe I am of the journey.
Over the next three kilometres we climb about two hundred and fifty metres so slow but easy. It's slow going but neither of us are trying to race. The point is just to catch up so we're both fine with a slower pace.
The sun is getting higher in the sky and the view is getting more beautiful. It's mostly behind us at this point though so it's a bit tricky constantly turning around and trying to focus a shot whilst still moving. I then try to get one of both of us together. It's quite a logistical challenge with the height differences between cyclist and runner, not to mention the depth and the whole fact of still running uphill thing. I think I got there in the end though...sort of.
The gradient continues constant until we're at around six hundred and fifty metres above sea level and around eight kilometres in so with those first two being flat it's been a pretty decent uphill. Not too hard but a nice good morning all the same.
It's at this point that we reach the turning point. We've been following one side of the hills up and we now reach the ridge where it starts to drop down to one of the many, many bays of Banks Peninsula. It's a nice point to stop as this is where the Double Fence Line trail that we've been aiming for actually starts. So we have a minutes rest to take in the view of the other side of the bays, hoe into a One Square Meal muesli bar that's Dads weapon of choice nutrition-wise these days, then throw the bike over a stile and head further up the hill into the farmland.
I've downloaded a full topo map of the South Island and am able to use it as back up but we're going on Dad's memory largely for today's so there's a bit of stopping and starting as he's only done the route a couple of times and in snowy weather rather than quite dry conditions like it is today. The main thing is knowing which side of the fence we ought to be on.
It's a nice flat bit for a while which is good to get the chance to build up a bit of speed again. Then we come over another stile and it's a nice downhill to let rip on. Dad tells me this is his favourite point as there's a solitary tree in front of us looking windswept over a nice view down to one side of the bay.
Shortly after we move along another ridge and it's another climb. Dad heads off a bit ahead as I settle into a fast hike and we meet again at the top before a repeat of the same.
We talk about kit for a while as well. As I now work selling sports gear he's keen to get a bit of my opinion on what I do for race nutrition, gels and electrolytes as he tends to go with the old school ideas of eating more real food rather than getting on the sugar train. I tell him what works for me but I'm really still learning myself, having made quite a few mistakes in this respect over the past year so am not exactly an expert. I'm not even knowledgeable if I'm really honest but it's always good to get other people's opinions, especially when it's someone of a different opinion and generation. We talk about trainers and the importance of having the right ones as that's been part of the cause of him no longer being able to run but the amount of knowledge out there these days is quite different to when he was getting into sport. Back then you just put some clothes and shoes on and start running or cycling, trying to eat where you can.
We talk about GPS and I show him how I'm tracking us which he's never used before and isn't particularly bothered. To be honest, I admit, I use it far too much although am always trying to make sure I'm conscious of using it as a tool rather than a Mecca of information. The tool is the legs and the mind. It's so easy to forget that with all these newfandangled products coming out that supposedly make you three percent better over a certain distance under specific conditions. That's one thing I'm fast learning in sport. There are some things that really will help make life easier but you've got to filter through the marketing crap to get a real idea what is useful.
But I digress.
We've been going up and down with the odd turn and generally just keeping it fairly casual in terms of pace, preferring just to enjoy the day and catch up. We climb. We descend. Eventually we reach eight hundred metres and start popping down the other side.
We reach a stile and put the bike over. It's a field of cows, which I'm pretty wary of having been chased by them before at three am bossing the South Downs back in Blighty. Dad proceeds to go as fast as he can through the field shouting friendly comments about Mr Cow. Unfortunately the questionable gender specifics of the animal is the last of my worries. Unfortunately one of them doesn't like him very much and starts a warning canter toward him.
Two things spring to mind here. One, cows don't like cyclists and two, I'm running behind a cyclist who's choosing to spook them.
I take a few tentative paces making sure to give as wide a berth as possible to Bessy Dadhater. Unfortunately this isn't easily possible due to the fact that we're running along a fence line. Thankfully she stops after the warning steps and I can cautiously get around her. Unthankfully I check behind me and Bessy Angryeyes, another cow, is about fifteen metres behind me and charging.
It's a quick decision here. Option one is to attempt to outrun the cow and hope she's being territorial and will stop once I'm clear of her- but potentially get trampled to death if she really does have the fire of Hades and I only find out when it's too late to escape. Option two is to use the fifteen metres leeway I have to try to get out of this field to safety.
I take option two but unfortunately the fence is topped with barbed wire. I feel a barb puncture and sink into the flesh of my palm and another one stab into the middle of my shin as I fly over the fence faster than you can say "hot dang that's a big cow!"
I right myself on the other side still in flight mode and keep running despite being clear of the field now and make my way down to the far end where I can get over into another field and rejoin a completely oblivious father.
Go for a run with your Dad, he thinks. It'll be fun, he thinks. There definitely won't be any danger, he thinks. Yeah...ummm?
Dad asks what happens. I explain. He says the cow was just being friendly and laughs as he cycles off. I catch my breath, sort of, then try to catch up.
Soon we round a bend and get a pretty clear and steep downhill. Dad shoots off and I'm quite happy to let him go, setting my own pace as we go back and forth on a few switchbacks. He stops at a couple of points to film me going by which is only slightly unnerving.
It's not long before I reach a gate a bit ahead of him and there's a farmer stonking up the farm track on the other side of the fence and staring at me like I just farted on his favourite dinner before his first bite. It makes me nervous. Where's Dad? Why isn't he right behind me? He's on a bike, I mean, he really should have caught up by now, shouldn't he?
I think more and more that I'm on private land and that he's going to pull out his shotgun so I opt to get over the fence and just at this point Dad rounds the bend.
The farmer screams at me and points at the stile twenty metres further along the fence. He tells me this is how fences get broken and it's just been rebolted. I say I'm sorry, go to the stile, climb over passively and inwardly call him a dick as I would have seen the frigging stile if he hadn't been staring at me with daggers in his eyes.
We head up the farm road and soon are back onto the summit road. It's nice to have a quick blast on proper tarmac but a bit unnerving with the speed some of the cars fly by at so I'm glad when pretty soon after we turn down another farm road.
This one is just a long and windy downhill so we open up a bit as there's no traffic. After a fairly windy morning it's now starting to heat up so I debate whether or not to take some layers off but eventually opt for the I-can't-be-bothered route and leave them on.
By the time we get to the bottom it's really starting to warm up so we stop again and I go down to my tech tee on top and just shorts on bottom. As I'm peeling off my calf guards I notice that there is a fair wee drip of blood running down the right side from the barbed wire fence.
We're now back onto proper road and after not being too sure all morning it really is heating up and I'm struggling to cope. I'm used to British weather and it's pretty cold there at the moment so this is quite a contrast. Not long after we hit the main road to head back to the van.
I ask if Dad has any sunblock. He doesn't. And it's not very hot for him either after four months in Africa so he's probably wondering what my problem is. How the hell did it get so hot so quick? I start checking the tracking at this point to see how far away we are as I can feel myself burning up prett badly. There's still a good two or three kilometres.
I'm gutted as we are planning to go for a coffee after this a while up the road and I'd originally thought of suggesting Dad take the van ahead then cycle back to me so I could make up the marathon distance as I really want to make sure I do at least one marathon this week while in New Zealand before Jess flies over to meet me.
Having moved to England for an acting career that I spent well over a decade giving up everything for, I decided to call it a day at the beginning of this year and focus on other things. It had got to a point where it wasn't worth working night shift in a call centre to afford to work unpaid in the theatre and not having any other life besides. So I made the tough decision to move for greener pastures, to get a normal job working in sports sales with regular hours, moved out of Central London to north west Kent and focus on my running. It's been a year of ups and downs with some successes and some not so good results but on the whole it's been a massive learning curve and I've definitely not looked back at any of it.
What it did mean though is that I wanted to come back home and make my mark, so to speak, by doing at least one ultra. But today isn't going to be that day as I can feel my face burning. I wonder pretty frantically what to do as I don't want to be the stereotypical Brit who goes home with loads of photos of himself wearing nearly no clothes and looking like a beetroot crossed with a tomato.
I put my Buff on my head, which is something I've not yet tested but know others use to help avoid sunburn. It seems an odd way to stop burning in the sun, putting more layers on, as it just feels like it's going to be horrible and clammy but I know today it's needed. We're getting closer to being back so I up the pace a bit to hopefully get out of the sun sooner and sure enough it's not long before we round the bend and see the van. Quick sprint finish and I'm sitting under the shade of a tree pulling my shoes off.
It's not far shy of thirty five kilometres and fifteen minutes shy of five hours with over a thousand metres of ascent so not particularly speedy but you know what? Sometimes it's not about speed. Sometimes it's not about the training and sometimes it's not about the three percent you can gain from this gadget or that compression top.
Sometimes it's just about having a nice day out in the hills catching up with your Dad who you've not seen in a couple of years.
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