Moturoa Backyard Ultra 2026

Moturoa Backyard Ultra, Nelson 2026

OMG, what on earth was that?

Both ends at once?

Is that possible?

Yep. Apparently it's a thing that can happen to runners deep in the dark depths of a race. In the past, whenever I'd heard rumours of this curious affliction, I'd reacted with smug arrogance and thought, That will never happen to me.

Don't be that person.

I have named this phenomenon the Double Bender Banger, or DBB for short. (It also sounds like a McDonald's Burger of the Month.)

That was what killed my race at lap 21.

But let's go back to the start.

It was a beautiful day, with gorgeous views of the ocean, inlets, and pine forests. I came up to Nelson intending to have a good time and was excited to run around an island for as long as I could. So there we were, running alongside sparkling ocean waters, past tweeting birds perched in pine trees swaying in the breeze. With 215 entrants, it was a big field for a backyard ultra, but the organisers did a fantastic job.

Having run 11 backyards, you start to notice the same sorts of groups at these events. Yes, this is about to get totally stereotypical, but honestly, it's true.

Usually there is a group of gym-goers dressed in short shorts and not much else, often seen sipping from a water bottle the size of a water cooler and they tend to have the hottest legs around.

Then there are the club runners. You can spot them a mile away by their road shoes, so bright you can barely look directly at them for fear of being blinded. (This is probably intentional.) They're lightning fast and rumoured to be closely related to whippets.

Then there are the trail runners: the ones who can run uphill backwards while eating pizza and holding a Zoom meeting at the same time. I can only do the pizza bit. They often have some form of facial hair, and extra kudos if it's ginger. Both genders, by the way, I have a two-inch hair on my chin.

Lastly, there is always a group of hardcore oldies who have been doing hard stuff their entire lives and are the toughest beasts around. They are always worth befriending because they're full of fascinating stories and will tell you when you have toilet paper stuck to your shoe.

A couple of days before the race, the journey north involved a rickety old campervan that I'd bought the week before. It was so cheap that I couldn't really complain when things started not working.

I could put up with the smell of exhaust fumes, being wrapped in a blanket to keep warm while driving (no heating), sweating when the sun came out (no cooling), my foot constantly slipping off the clutch, and wrestling with the lack of power steering -just so I'd have somewhere to sleep after the event.

I also didn't have the luxury of a support crew this time around, and part of the challenge was seeing how long I could last completely self-supported.

 Everything I needed was arranged in a circle around my chair in a gazebo. I even bought a timer to wake me from short naps during the breaks and carried hot water in flasks so I could make noodles.

At about midnight, I discovered a crew member hiding in some clothing. It was a large plastic rat that my son Manu had secretly left for me to find. That rat sat beside the timer for the rest of the race, keeping its beady eyes fixed on me. Somehow, it reminded me of home.

Back to the Double Bender Banger.

I had been running for 21 hours when the combination of vomiting and, well... the other thing, finally finished me off. My ego had transformed from an imaginary troll beast at the start, full of unrealistic goals, into a tiny, whimpering trail goblin.

I suspected the tuna and rice I'd nibbled on the previous lap were the culprits, and I knew my race was over.

And honestly? I was soooo relieved.

I finally had an excuse to stop and never run a backyard ultra EVER again.

Wait…Until next year.

I'll be back next year.

With no tuna and rice.

And definitely power steering.

And crew.

Oh, and the rat too.

Thanks to Mountain Adventure, La Sportiva NZ and Fixx NZ for your support.