Stepping Off the Map
Originally posted on Substack, APR 23, 2025
What happens when you chase a goal so big it scares you? I’m about to find out at the Great Naseby Water Race, where I’ve signed up for the 200-mile event.
I’ve finished the 100km and 100-mile races at Naseby before. Each a brutal test of endurance, strategy, and self-belief. But 200 miles? That’s a distance I can’t yet comprehend. And that’s exactly why I’m drawn to it.
In 2020 the spicy cough was doing the rounds and like so many events the Great Naseby Water Race was cancelled. For me this event was one of several for which I spent months preparing. The Covid restrictions meant that there was plenty of time for training for a 100-mile event. To encourage wellness our New Zealand leaders were promoting exercise, so getting out to run wasn’t a barrier.
Despite the official run being cancelled and fed up with cancelled events, I made the decision to run my own unofficial solo race. With my brother as crew, and with one other runner turning up on the start line, I travelled to a very chilly Naseby to complete my adventure.
My second foray into the 100-mile event at Naseby was under more normal circumstances in 2022. This was the same year that the 200-mile event was introduced and saw five men and three women complete the complete distance under the snow-covered mountains. I couldn’t begin to understand what it would take to run 32 ten-kilometre laps and fight the sleep demons through two or more nights.
The desire to push beyond what I thought was possible is what drives me. I read something recently that struck a chord with me:
“Find the edge of what you think is your ‘map’ and sail right off the damn thing — that’s where your story truly hides.” — Paul Watkins
I’ve come to realise that’s exactly where my story lies, outside the comfort zone, in the unknown. It’s why I do these things in the first place — not because I know I can, but because I don't. And I know if I fail, it doesn’t mean I’ve reached my limit it’s just an indication I need to adjust my approach.
There was a time when 100 miles felt unachievable. Now, with the right training, strategy, and mindset, it’s something I know I can finish. Hard, oh yes. But doable.
200 miles shifts the goalposts again. It asks new questions of me — physical, mental, and emotional. It demands I go deeper into what Courtney Dauwalter (one of the top female Ultra-runners) calls the pain cave: that space where your body says “stop” and your mind replies “not yet.”
"We don’t know what we’re capable of, we don’t know our limits until we try, so I want to get to that place. I call it the pain cave: that point where you physically can’t keep going. That’s when your mind takes over and you dig in with your brain to help your body keep going." — Courtney Dauwalter
That mindset, pushing into discomfort and growing beyond the edge of confidence and comfort is something I try to embrace. I've been there countless times, facing moments when I didn’t know if I’d make it back. But I've learned that at a certain point in an event, it stops getting harder. You hit rock bottom. It's real, but before you know it, something shifts. Because once you claw your way out of that hole, there’s a sense of triumph that makes everything worthwhile. Easy is comfortable and safe, but hard is just so rewarding.
So, the countdown has started. 125d 19h 42m 17s according to the GNWR website. I’ve joined 13 other runners, but that number will likely grow as others realise they need just a little bit more 'type-2 fun' in their lives. The next four months will be a progressive build, physically and more importantly mentally.
Training for an ultra is like preparing for Christmas morning with young kids. You spend weeks, even months getting everything ready and working out the exact right gifts (or gear). There are late nights, early mornings, quiet sacrifices as you juggle training around family life. All for a few magical hours of chaos, joy, and wide-eyed wonder. And just like that, it’s over. Then the big day arrives, race day or Christmas morning and it’s full-on. Emotional, chaotic, joyful, over too fast. All that effort, all the tiny moments that no one else saw… they show up in a few intense hours. And then it’s quiet again. You’re tired. Fulfilled. A little flat (or fat).
And before long, you’re thinking: When’s the next one?
Because maybe what you love isn’t just the event, it’s the structure, the purpose, and the sense of building toward something meaningful.
When the race is over, I know I’ll be different. Not just because of the physical effort, but because of what I’ll learn about myself. We all have limits, but it’s only when we push beyond them that we truly discover who we are. This 200-mile race is my next chapter in that journey, call in the cartographer.