Articles/Race Reports

Northburn 100miler Recap: THAT HURT!

Anthony
Anthony (@run_ant_run)20 min read
Northburn 100miler Recap: THAT HURT!

The one thing I've learned about 100milers is that every time you run one its the 'hardest thing you have ever done'.

I said it during my first one at TUM in 2023, I said it during Faultline in 2024, and I said it again during 8-peaks in 2025

But like this time at Northburn I actually mean it. I wouldn't be surprised if this has set a bar I cannot break for a while.

And to prove that to you I'm going to share with you in detail what my 32 hours at Northburn was like, with:

So... here goes!

Part 1: The Lead Up

Training technically started last year when I trained for 8 peaks. I strung together some big weeks, focused on lots of vertical gain/descent in hot temps.

After doing the 170km with 9000m of vert from Queenstown to Wanaka, I was back into the hills pretty fast and basically trained all the way through the rest of the year in hunt of 100,000m of total vert in 2025.

So by the time I got to the end of 2025 when I bought my Northburn entry, I came into it in a pretty good condition.

That doesn't mean I didn't put together some big weeks though. I had 3 months of solid training leading into it, focused on:

And thats what I did. I ticked off some awesome adventures, averaged over 3000m of vert for 6 weeks straight, and peaked with multiple 50-60km mountain runs in the local hills down here in Queenstown.

By the time race week had rolled around, I felt good. I had a shorter taper than usual, only 2 weeks compared to my normal 4 (so we could run the Milford track - so worth it!) but I was ready to go.

We headed out to Northburn Station the day before for check-in and briefing, got sunburnt, and listened to maybe the most anxiety-inducing race briefing of all time.

The following words were thrown around multiple times; "Death climb", "Loop of Despair", "You will probably be swearing at us" and "The dreadead waterace section" and "the f*cking bicycle climb".

So I definitely left with a bit more anticipation than I expected. I started wondering who had it worse off - me (who had no idea what was coming) or others who had done it before (who knew exactly what was coming).

Everyone I met said the goal with Northburn is to pace yourself really well for the first 2 loops, so you get back from Loop 2 and can make it out on loop 3. And thats what I was going to do. Slow is fast would be my mantra for the day.

But before you know it, we were up the next day at 3:30am, on the road by 4:45, there by 5:40 and on the start line by 6am.

And then it all started...

Part 2: The Race

The race is broken up into 3 loops, all slightly different, and all start and finish at the same place:

  1. Loop 1: 50km, 3000m+.
  2. Loop 2: 60km, 4000m+
  3. Loop 3: 50km, 3000m+

Each loop is a big run. One that you would do and feel pretty buggered for the rest of the day.

Interestingly I've found during these big runs it doesn't pay to compare to how you have felt during training. Your mind automatically recalibrates based on the total distance you need to do, and it just gets hard 60-85% of the way through.

Also the loop style format was going to be interesting. If you have ever run a BYU before you will know the mental challenge of looping.

While these were slightly larger loops, the idea of spending 10+ hours away from your crew, and then having to build up the courage to leave the start/finish to start the next loop was something I had not experienced before.

All that said, we got home, I did the final pack, and the next morning we did the 1 hour drive back out to Northburn station. Then at 6am the gun went off, and we started on loop one.

The Start line!

Loop 1: Things are going well!

Loop one started with a 5km 'mini-loop' to get us warmed up. From the start/finish, we ran left along the base of the hills for just over 1km, and then did a small climb of ~200m, then looped back to the start finish. A warm up before it really started.

I felt good. Happy to bump into Jo Bailey (fellow Topo Ambassador) and finally meet. We cruised, got the legs warmed up, had a yarn. Always a nice way to calm the nerves.

Then we came back through the start/finish, and went back out the same way we started. But this time we kept going for another 1km or two, before starting what would be a just over 3hour climb to the highest point of loop 1.

Things were good at this point. We got treated to a beautiful sunrise over the Pisa Range as we slowly climbed out way to Middletons for the first aid station through farmland and 4wd track.

Then it started to get more and more steep in sections, and more and more technical in sections. We followed some spines nearly to the top, and then hanged a right down a creek, to then turn almost back on ourselves and climb back up the creek for the final push to the top.

This section was welcomed, I knew that the key in this race was going to be heat management and hydration so I made the most of being able to dunk my hat in a cold creek and load up on water.

By the time we go to the top, we had done about 25km with 2000m of vert. Lots of it reasonably technical climbing. Also stoked to bump into my friend Hazel and have a good yarn for 15-20 minutes as we ascended.

In classic kiwi fashion, the 'aid station' was a landcruiser with a couple of jugs of water on the back. We got scanned in, I felt good, then we started the big long descent back down to the start/finish.

The descent was uneventful, although it was getting hot, but as we were approaching the start finish, I looked at my watch and saw 40km. We were maybe 1km from the finish line and this is where I learned my first lesson about Northburn...

If its too good to be true, it probably is

Right as we got back onto the road that was maybe 500m from the finish line, already after arguably a big day (40km, 6+ hours) we got turned around and sent straight back up. And then straight down into a scorching canyon. And then straight back up. And then straight back down again, to join up with the climb that we came up maybe 5 hours earlier.

At this point I got into a bit of a sook. It was my first kind of experience with course design like this. Mentally it is soul destroying. The kind of thing you do and you say "Was that really necessary?"

Its important to remember the impact that your emotions have on your body though. If you let yourself have a pitty party for too long, your body will also feel bad. So I practiced good mental techniques and dug myself out of the hole and just came to grips with the idea that this is probably what it is going to be like. I suspect it will probably get a lot worse too.

As we approached the heat of the day in he final 3-4 kms along the base of the station, I bought it home to get back to my crew to get some well-deserved rehydration, cool-down time and to refuel.

Lap 1 done. Total stats: 52km (on my watch), 2500m+ (?), 8.25 hours.

Ok, now only 2 more of those to go... starting with the 'death climb?'

Loop 2: Going well, until it didn't

After a 30minute refuel and rehydration stop (thanks to Meg and Keefe!) I changed shirt, shoes, socks, refuelled and was sent on my way.

Between nearly 2.5 litres of water, 7 hours of food and all the gear my pack was HEAVY!

It was maybe a good thing that I didn't study the course too much, and was pretty dazed at the briefing so I didn't know that we were about to enter the death climb.

Basically though I'll put it straight for you. You do a very steep, very hot, very long climb up through a valley to the highest point in the race. Bar a small series of descents, its basically continuous all the way up to the top.

At the same time you pass through the last part of the notorious 'loop of despair' so you get an idea of what you look forward to at ~120km the next morning.

However, I made a lot of good decisions on this climb that meant I actually felt strong, and fuelled well. Two things I'd really like to shout about:

  1. Soaking my sunshirt in every creek I could. This meant I had a cold layer between my body and the heat surrounding us. (Also SUNSHIRT!!! Keep the heat off the back of your neck)
  2. Actively monitoring my sodium state. You were sweating SO much. And that much sweat is a recipe for stomach issues. I'm actually incredibly grateful to Circl Electrolytes, and their little pouch. We had filled it up at the base, so I'd add 1000mg of sodium every 2 hours to replace what I was losing. I really think this was the biggest game changer in my race.

The first thing you do is a steep, dry and hot 4wd road climb out of the base of the station to 'Eve'. Eve (an actual person) is at the point where on the final loop, you come back through in the Loop of Despair.

The hardest part of the course (in my opinion) is after you pass Eve. You do a couple of very steep descents to lose a lot of the elevation you have worked hard to gain, and as you get lower and lower it just gets hotter and hotter. With no wind, it's like a little micro-climate.

Then you traverse around the valleys and pass through one creek (a blessing) which acts as the turning point before it starts to go up again. This final part is a steep, hot, climb all the way up to the 'saddle' which pops you out on a road, with other milers + 100km runners coming down past you as you do a final (pretty gentle) out and back climb to Leaning Rock.

Thankfully I felt good at this point. Body felt strong, fuelling well, legs good, lots of energy. When I got up to Leaning Rock, I knew I had my drop bag coming up at the 'TW' aid station. This is the aid station we would pass 4 times (1x Lap 2, 3x Lap 3) and it had some gear for me for the night, more food, and ginger beer (🤤)

So you should have seen my face when the guy at the aid station said this to me:

Oh yeah so for the 100km runners, its about 2.5km just down there (*points down the climb we just came up) on gentle downhill.... but miler runners need to drop all the way down *there down the water race, and then climb all the way back up to get to TW

Another lesson on the Northburn course - you can't control it, so you better just deal with it.

So after about just under 2km of descent down this nice gravel 4wd road, a guy in a ute (classic NZ) pointed up miler runners off the road and down the side of this valley into the dreaded 'water race' section.

Basically you descend all the way back down to the valley floor on alpine shrubbery, and then at the bottom turn around on yourself and climb all the way back up onto the spine that continues past TW, and turn back on yourself to climb back up to TW.

Its hard for me to explain to you the scale of the descents and climbs. It might sound like I'm dramatising it, but I'm not. What I did learn is that this is part of the reason why Northburn is what it is. It is unlike any race you will ever do because of route decisions like this - and it is something to be experienced and test your mind on.

After a couple more hours of climbing, I arrived at TW for the first time in the early evening glow. TW was awesome. Such a cool aid station. It cracks me up that after the race people where asking me like "Oh how big was the marquee at TW" etc. In reality it was two horse floats full of drop bags, a couple of chairs, snacks, water and THE COOLEST marshalls ever.

If either of the marshalls from TW happen to be reading this (My miler brain forgot your names) - thankyou so much. Your encouragement and vibes were unmatched for such a pivotal point in so many peoples races.

At TW I grabbed my drop bag to stok back up on water + food, put on my headlamp to prepare for the dark, changed my shirt in favour of some warmer gear, and then set off on the long descent down before the final climb of loop 2 up to Mount Horn.

Two things I didn't know at this point

But, right as I passed that marshall, the sun had set. I was now 80km in with nearly 5000m of vert (so half way). I did still feel really good, I was running well, fuelling well, hydrated and warm. All good things.

At that marshall point, they send you all the way down to the valley floor (again lol) and then you turn around and climb all the way up to Mt Horn which is about a 600m climb on gentle 4wd track.

I found this section good. I work really well with running at night, as I can kind of 'lock in' on the small circle of light in front of me and just tick away at the miles.

At the top of Mount Horne, they then send you down steeply to a marshalled aid station (Suprise!!), and then even more steeply to what I'm going to call 'the road'.

My mate Gareth had warned me about the 'the road', saying it was very mentally challenging and monotonous that late into a race. It is a 17km, very gently undulating 4wd track run that starts on the edge of Lake Dunstan, and runs around the point past cromwell, zig-zagging back to Northburn station.

This was probably one of the lower points of my race (hilarious). At this point it was about 11pm, and the reality of the night was setting in. I think that the of nearly 17 hours on feet, a lot of viciously steep descent, and being so close (but so far) from my crew I was starting to feel it mentally.

It turned out to be a mentally challenging part of the course, as you can see the lights of Cromwell to your left, and you run in and out of these valleys and feel like you are making no progress. So close, but so far from the reprieve of seeing people you know.

I should also note that this was my first 100miler with no pacers, so this was the first time I had experienced the night time alone. But I put on my headphones and busted it out. At this point still running the flats and gentle inclines well, mostly as I really wanted to see my crew.

By the time I made it back to the start finish, it was 1:30am, and I was actually 1 hour ahead of schedule. My feet and legs were aching pretty bad though. Truth is though, there isn't much that cold pizza, a little lie down and a 'V' can't fix.

So thats what I did. Aided by some help from Meg and Keefe again (bless them!) we set a timer for 30 minutes, I got about 20 mins of shut eye, and then we got me up, changed socks + shoes, Meg helped refill my pack to get ready to out on lap 2.

Not to undermine this because it was hard, but I expected this transition to feel harder than it did. I think in part because I had paced myself so conservatively during the first 2 loops that I actually felt pretty good in terms of energy and motivation.

Lap 2 done. Total stats: 110km (on my watch), 6000m+ (?), 19.25 hours.

And now for the final push.. Lap 3!

Loop 3: Now this just hurts

So there are two things to be apprehensive about on Lap 3:

  1. The Loop of Despair - appropriately named, Jo said at the start of the race that it 'made her cry'. Turns out that is fair. Its the steep and punchy loop you do at 125km before starting the final push to leaning rock.
  2. The Bicycle climb - a "Are you f*cking serious" moment at 150km right before the finish line, a steep 500m climb in the heat of the day after a long steep descent to the valley floor from the highest point we revisit at 130km into this race.

At 2:10am, with some new shoes, socks, refuelled and 3 slices of cold pizza in my side pocket I set out for Lap 3.

It starts with the climb over Mt Horn all the way up to TW again. The climb was long and tough (about 3 hours) but not too bad. Hardest parts were the steep gulley right before the blessed marshall (who was very cold - poor soul!).

From there we crossed with our path from the later stages of lap two, only to take a slightly shorter route this time to Mount Horn. From there it was gentle 4WD road up to TW (accompanied by a bit of wind)

On my way up the final part to TW, the lead male passed me coming down. He genuinely looked like he wasn't even tired, and almost 'floated' past me. It would be funny to put a video side-by-side of us on at the same point to compare our strides. I would later learn he would win the race in 22 hours! So impressive - what a 🐐.

At this point things were definitely getting a bit sore, and I was not moving amazingly smooth. Uphill and flat were fine, but my quads and knees had taken a beating on all the steep descents to date.

A lesson here is that I probably I did too much training on long, continuous flowing downhills and not enough steep and sharp stuff.

I got to TW about 1 hour before sunrise after a 10km climb, now 120km into the race. After a bit of Coca Cola, the marshalls pleasantly guided me out onto the Loop of Dispear.

For me this was the hardest part of the race - no doubt. Steep descent, only to turn around and do the hardest part of the 'Death climb' from lap 2, all the way back up to TW. Vibes were pretty low at this point, but I was proud of myself as despite having no one to rally (I was, and had been completely alone for the past 10 hours) I rallyed and just ticked off the miles.

So I went back up the final climb, and then at the top circled back to TW, refuelled, then promptly headed out on the 'final climb' (YOU WISH ANT!) to Leaning Rock. I was pretty slow moving up to Leaning Rock, energy was pretty low, and then put a strong descent down to pass through TW for the final time.

I have so much respect for the people at TW, and just all the marshalls in general. These people give up basically their whole long weekend, standing in the dark and cold to make sure that we runners go in the right direction. Selfless stuff.

I was moving pretty well on the downhill to Mt Horn, then all the way down to Devils Creek. Another 1000m+ descent, by the end my knees were definitely getting very tender on the much steeper stuff.

Thats the thing about Northburn that Ian from Kinisi warned me about. The terrain is such that the hills get steeper the closer to the bottom you get. Which makes for interesting descents (typically its the inverse with a lot of hills around QT)

After completing the descent we arrived to Devils creek and it was now just before midday. It was getting seriously hot now, and that combined with the fatigue of over 24 hours meant that when the final marshall said - "you've got 14km to go, with the bicycle climb in there".

I was genuinely thinking "F*ck off" (of course I did not say that). It's safe to say Meg got some spirited texts of me expressing my feelings about Terry Davis and his routing 🤣

This was probably the second hardest part of the race for me. I could literally throw a rock at the finish line, and I could see the track we went down at the end of Lap 2 to get to the finish line which was much flatter and more gentle.

I was so tired, it was so hot, I had gotten lazy and let my nutrition slip slightly as I thought the end was closer, and so I had to bring it all back over the 500m steep climb.

But I managed to get it done, all the mountains I had climbed in the heat really paid off and I managed to keep my heart rate under control moving consistently at a decent enough pace despite the steepness / heat. For anyone wondering how you can do a race like this - do the training. It actually works.

Then once I got to the top of the climb, I saw the '5km to go' and I knew that all that was coming was some gentle downhill as we had run it before. A wave of emotions comes over me. I had basically done it now.

I've never had this before, but I was lightly hallucinating on the way down in the daylight (normally it only happens in the night). I wonder if it was the just pure yearning for people, as at this point I had been alone for a really long time.

As I was descending down to the final section to the final 1km flat-ish wander along Middleton road to the finish line it was all settling in. I HAD F*CKING DONE IT.

In reality the best part was that I was still in one piece. For the first time my stomach has not turned ONCE for the 30+ hours of a miler. I was running well. I had actually bought it home pretty strong.

I crossed the finish line to a small, but very awesome group of supporters, one of which was Meg - the backbone of any ultramarathon I do.

I then enjoyed sharing my opinion on certain areas of the course with some of the people who congratulated me with the words "Fuck" and "Shit" and "Ouch" mentioned many times.

Lap 3 done. Total stats: 163km (on my watch), 9074m+ (?), 32.2 hours.

Part 3: The Aftermath

I sat down, pretty hot and feet in a bit of pain. My feet seemed to take most of the beating on this one (as I write this on Tuesday 2 days later they are still super swollen).

I don't normally drink beer (gluten free) but enjoyed a hazy, and after about 20 minutes of 'what the f*ck just happened' I hobbled back to the car to make our way home.

I've actually been in a much better way than I normally am after these races in terms of energy, but I suspect that might turn so. I've got a couple of blisters, and I'm quite blocked up/puffy (I suspect from all the dust and dry grass) but thats the extent of most of the issues.

The next day we headed back out for the prize-giving, and shared some war stories. There were some people in a bad way, some people who didn't even look like they had run at all which was insane. I was stoked to pick up 3rd in my age group (6 hours behind second 🤣), but I don't actually know how many open males there were so I could have been 3rd but also last.

Closing words

This really feels like the culmination of a number of years of work. Both in my fitness, strength, nutrition during the race, strategy, and mental strength.

Northburn really lives up to its motto "Where suffering is a prize, and everyone is a winner". It is truly one of a kind, and I see what they mean when they say it is one of the hardest 100milers in the southern hemisphere.

A lot of this might have sounded negative - but in truth if you don't want that kind of experience you just shouldn't sign up. The race is unapologetically itself, and needs to be on the list to experience at least once for anyone who loves the mountains (and long runs!)

And finnally - it's crazy to think that only 6-7 years ago I was 110kg+, lost in life, and could barely run 1km.

Sometimes I think back to that moment when I was debating running my first marathon and think where would I be if I hadn't of clicked 'sign up'.

And then what would have happened if I didn't keep following my curiosity and kept pulling at the string to see what my body was capable of to tick off all these adventures since that first one.

And even more importantly what would have happened if I never did the scary thing to pack up with Meg and move to Queenstown with so many unknowns to be in the mountains.

The truth is though - I will never know. And I'm definitely ok with that.