Caltex Westport Marrs Beach Triathlon

 Are you keen to try a tri?

That was the challenge on the poster for the Marrs Beach sprint triathlon held just outside Westport February 28. Ruben decided he was keen. The race started 5:45p and Ruben finished with his final patient of the day at 5:22p, so it was a Zimmerman-style arrival in the car park at 5:40.

Fortunately this was a very low-key event with about 75 people participating in the sprint, the bike-run duathlon, and the relay. Someone with a magic marker scrawled a 5 on Ruben's arm (no bib numbers) and he dropped his bike along the side of the road with the others. He forgot his goggles in the car, so I ran back for them and handed them to him on the beach as the athletes approached the water to begin the swim.

Approaching the group receiving pre-race briefing a the edge of somebody's pasture.
No bike stands, no little transition stations with shoes and Gu packets lined up on a towel,
and no smiley-face helium balloons marking bike placement.

At the beach ready for the 200-meter swim. The distance is approximate based on the tide. 

Ruben (in the red top and black bottoms) coming out of the water.

The enormous crowd of spectators.

Bikes waiting for their riders.

The race directions written on the back of a Buller Real Estate sign.
A couple of transition kits were set up in this strategic spot by local tri-dorks.

There are always sea "breezes" and the wind picked up during the event.
The cows minded less than the people.

Athletes came flying down this gravel road, flung their bikes one way and their helmets the other. Most weren't wearing biking shoes (in fact I saw one guy in Crocs) and started the run immediately.

Ruben finished the 8-kilometer bike (on a borrowed mountain bike)
and headed out on the 3-kilometer run.

Ruben sprints to the line.

The finisher's grimace.

Random thoughts from the Coast

While I was taking care of chores like charging the camera today I realized I have some random individual pictures that I thought might congeal into a number of full and cohesive posts, but I'm ready to face that fact that if I don't post them soon, I never will. So here goes....

I've told a lot of you about our new favorite spot in Westport--the estuary where the Buller River meets the Tasman Sea. Beyond the river rocks (which I would have loved to have for my garden in Golden) is a small but smooth beach. 

Because I'm beyond dorky I was pretty excited to find out that we get to participate in the New Zealand Census.

I have already posted pictures of the walkway on Cape Foulwind, but it has become my go-to place for short, hilly running when I'm on my own. This past Wednesday the weather was gorgeous and since I was in the mood for taking picture breaks, I took my camera along.

I have been charmed since Day 1 in New Zealand by the letterboxes. They have home mail service six days a week delivered by the "postie" usually on a bicycle, but no mail pickup. For that you have to drop your mail in a "kerbside" box or take it to the post shop. A standard letter to a destination within NZ costs 70 cents. 

Kerbside letterbox

The clinic in Westport has been keeping Ruben very busy, not only during clinic hours, but also during after-hours and weekend call. The small local hospital has limited facilities so generally Ruben gets called in to evaluate the patient to determine if he or she needs to be taken (by helicopter) to the larger hospital facilities in Greymouth or Christchurch. Because he's Ruben he found something to love about call: The dashboard siren. 

Prayers for Christchurch

February 22 was the second anniversary of the 6.8-magnitude earthquake under the central business district and outlying areas of Christchurch, which is located about the middle of the east coast of the South Island.

We are about 5 hours drive from Christchurch, but Westport gets the Christchurch newspaper, so this Friday we got our first real impressions of the disaster, which hit near the end of a busy lunch hour, claimed 185 lives, and changed the face of the nation's second most populated city. Above are a couple of pictures from that day in 2011.

"The Press" newspaper said this:

            Two years ago, black, choking smoke rose from the collapsed CTV building in 
            Madras St, the Stonehurst backpackers in Gloucester St looked as though the earth 
            had opened under it, and the flattened Christchurch Club in Worcester St showed 
            nature had no respect for money. Down each street were smashed cars, fallen 
            facades and rubble scattered on the tarseal.

            The eerie sound of sirens, the clatter of helicopters and sometimes the sound of 
             weeping drifted over the chaos. It seemed thousands had perished or been badly 
             injured.

The city is beginning to heal, but not without a lot of emotional pain, frustration over the slow pace of repairs, and controversy about the way money is being spent or not spent. Editorials in the newspaper alongside coverage of memorial events made moving please for the region to resist becoming defined by the disaster alone. It seems clear that even when the reconstruction dust finally settles, the people of Christchurch will need prayers for God's peace. 

Getting settled in Westport

 It has been a busy and weird couple of weeks. We're still in Westport, on the west coast of the South Island, but we spent another week in a hotel while Ruben worked at the clinic and I worked at the public library. Then I spent the weekend outside Rotorua at an ultramarathon training camp. While I was there, Ruben "moved us in" to the flat where we'll spend the remainder of our time in Westport. By "moved us in" I mean he dragged the suitcases inside the front door and dug out the toothpaste, leaving the rest of the stuff untouched. Here's a quick look at our new neighborhood.

I think this was the last cloudy day we've had. The weather has been sunny and ~21ºC (74ºF).

My home away from motel home in Westport.

My station at in the periodicals area at the library.
I waited until the room was free of smelly backpackers to take my snap.

Slightly blurry shot down Palmerston Street, Westport.

Buller Medical Centre

Our flat on Derby Street, Westport.

The front door on our flat. One side is a slider, the other has the window.
This setup is pretty common. The downside is that yesterday a
neighbor kid ran right in through the open door.

The facilities are basic, but functional.

 Now a bit about my ultramarathon training camp at Lake Okataina on the North Island. The camp coordinator, Malcolm Law, an ultrarunner who completed (in 14 days) the 1,000+ km Coast Path in England. This camp is designed as prep for the 100 km Tarawara Ultramarathon in March. About 60 people attended over the course of the weekend. Forty-eight runners ran the 36-km Saturday run, the 16-km night run, and the 25-km Sunday run.

Lake Okataina Education Centre

Our Saturday 36 km run started with bus ride to the Redwoods Forest in Rotorua.

Our track skirted several of the many, many lakes in this area.

Some new running buddies at a water stop.

We stopped at this waterfall to fill drink bottles.
I'm still leery of  drinking unfiltered, unpurified lake water, but so far I haven't gotten sick.
Everybody does it!

The Sunday run ended just beyond this great swimming hole.
Everyone went back to cool off before the bus ride back to the Education Centre.

Can you see the runner who climbed up the rocks to reach a sweet-as dive spot?

The runner survived the jump, but not many followed his lead.

Until a bunch of Kiwi kids showed up and climbed higher and jumped farther.
Kiwi kids love the water.