Blog Tarawera 100 Miler 2025 (163km): 100 Mile # 10

Tarawera 100 Miler 2025 (163km):
100 Mile # 10

2025 marked my 5^th year of participating in the Tarawera Ultra-Trail New Zealand ‘Tarawera Miler’.  After a few years of modified loops and out and backs, it was nice to revert back to a course which closely resembled the popular loop course first run in 2018. Like most milers, it’s an early 2.30am alarm in preparation for a 4am Saturday start. This year, I was joined by my wife Courtney who was participating in her first 100 miler. Courtney completed her first 100km at Tarawera last year and was keen to test her resolve in the ‘miler’. The main difference between a 100k and a 100 miler is that in most 100k races, you’d be doing well if you finished by dinner. Whereas in a miler (for most of us), it involves running through a whole night and you’d be doing well if you finished in time for breakfast the following day. Although the Tarawera miler has a generous cut off time of 36 hours (4pm Sunday), Courtney and I had planned to finish around sunrise on Sunday morning. Rotorua can get pretty hot in February and finishing in the morning avoids potentially two whole days of afternoon sun. After a quick breakfast, we arrived a few minutes before race start and moved right to the back of the start line which is where I like to start most my milers. Ahead of us lay 400 other athletes, 163km, and 3700 metres elevation gain. Or as the race doctor described in his earlier medical brief, “a huge physiological strain”. There is some nervous jostling and then the hooter goes off. The MC shouts out “Runner’s, I salute you” to the masses. It reminds me of a scene from the movie ‘The Gladiator’ and hence I whisper under my breath “We who are about to die, salute you”. I break into a shuffle and follow the throng of runners ahead past the emperor, into the darkness, and towards our gladiatorial fate.

At the start line at Te Puia with Courtney

As we run past the steaming geysers at Te Puia, it’s not long before I’ve built up a light sweat. I sense that we are running too fast so I pull back a bit. Courtney on the other hand, being a lot more social than me, gravitates towards the speeding group. I try to reign her back and counsel not to get caught up in this trap. “For the first 2-3 hours of the run, all you’re trying to do is establish your all-day pace. At this point, most runners are just chasing each other’s tail and running on adrenaline. Eventually you’ll find people who are the same pace as you but you won’t find them here!” How you start any miler is crucial! There is a tendency to go too fast as we don’t have any fatigue to limit us. For most of us in a miler who just want to finish, it’s not about how fast you can go but rather the slowest pace you can comfortably hold. Running slow requires discipline and isn’t easy. If people are passing you early on in a miler, rest assured that you’re doing it right! We let the masses stream past us and run at a slow disciplined pace all the way to Puarenga aid station (11km). We continue in a similar vein towards Green Lake aid station (22km). By this point, we’re on well-formed gravel road and its light enough to put our head lamps away. By the time we arrive at Buried Village aid station, it’s just after 8.30am and we’ve done 30km in about 4.5 hours. There has been minimal exertion and we’ve still arrived well within the 10.45am cut off. We quickly stop to collect our iced drinks and walk off eating our second breakfast for the morning – a slice of Domino’s BBQ Meatlovers pizza. Consider this as your warm up for the Tarawera Miler. Now the difficult Tarawera Trail awaits.

A snapshot of the Tarawera Trail (above) which runs along Lake Tarawera (below)

Despite all its beauty, the next section from Buried Village (30km) to Isthmus aid station (45.5km) along the Tarawera Trail is a deceptively challenging section of the course. It’s narrow single trail and hence you’re shoulder to shoulder with native bush most of the way with intermittent views of Lake Tarawera. The profile is mainly rolling, undulating terrain with a pretty steep ascent and descent towards the end. This 15km track is tough enough on fresh legs (yet alone after 30km) so I’d urge you to take this part easy and keep your legs fresh. There’s at least 30km of forestry roads ahead where you’ll need your running legs so don’t go burning matches here. Just keep humming along at your all-day pace and don’t force any passing. It can also get pretty hot along this section so make sure you leave Buried Village with at least 1.5 litres of fluid (maybe more on hotter days). The last kilometre or so to the Isthmus aid station is also pretty taxing. With full exposure to the sun, you have to move along a make shift grassy trail that’s rarely used. When Courtney and I reach the Isthmus aid station, it’s nearly midday. There’s minimal shade so I’m not too keen to stick around for long. We make sure we’ve got enough fluid to last us until Rerewhakaaitu (56km) and leave with our zip lock bags full of food and fruit. It’s a gradual 1km climb to where the boat waits so this is a good section to walk/eat and bank some calories for later on in the run. When we reach a small wooden jetty, there’s a rather luxurious boat with a canopy roof and enough seating for about 11 runners. It’s then a quick 2.5km sprint across the lake until we’re dropped off at the other side. We spot a small chilly bin with ice so Courtney and I stop and add ice to our flasks knowing that the next part of the course is quite exposed. Soon enough, the clouds part and the sun beats down on the exposed farm land ahead. We settle into a shuffle that is sustainable for the conditions and pass a few participants (and dairy cows) who have succumbed to a walk due to the heat. We then leave the farm land and enter a sealed country road. In previous years, it was a long difficult slog along straight country roads to Rerewhakaaitu but this time we turn off early into a pine forest. Although the trail through the pine forest remains a gradual gradient upwards, at least its soft underfoot and provides welcome shade. There is then a bit more farm land and shingle road until we reach Rerewhakaaitu aid station (56km) at 1.30pm. By now, we’re battling the full heat of the day and the sun beats down on us like we’re a couple of petulant kids. Thankfully our cousin Shane is there to greet us and tops us up with more iced drinks and a slice of Meatlovers pizza for the road (lunch). It’s always nice to see a familiar face in the heat of battle and Courtney and I leave the aid station in pretty good spirits.

At Rerewhakaaitu aid station (56km) with Courtney

The next section from Rerewhakaaitu (56km) to Outlet (88km) aid station is arguably the toughest part of the course if you don’t like running. I say that with tongue and cheek as the vast majority of this section is along forestry roads and very runnable! Other than a steepish climb around 70km when you enter the Tarawera Forest, most of these roads are runnable and you should be aiming to shuffle most of this section. If you’re reduced to prolonged periods of walking, then there’s a good chance that you’ve run more than you should’ve before this point and lost control of your pacing. I can tell Courtney isn’t enjoying this section (she tells me that this was tougher than the CCC 100km at UTMB!) and that’s because most ultra runners aren’t use to prolonged continuous running as often the off-road terrain limits this. However, deep in the heart of the Tarawera Forests, these long stretches of forestry roads will either make or break you. If you can run/shuffle most of these roads without dismantling, you’ll be well placed to arrive at the Outlet in reasonable shape. When Courtney and I do arrive at Outlet aid station (88km), there’s no loose parts and everything still seems to be hanging in there (including the sphincter). It’s now 7pm which means we’ve been moving for a total of 15 hours. I scull some iced orange juice in my drop bag which goes down a treat and pack away another slice of Meatlovers pizza for the road (dinner). A volunteer ties a glow stick to my pack for the ensuing night and I make sure my head lamp is easily accessible before leaving the Outlet. The Tarawera Outlet is where the water from the eastern end of Lake Tarawera forms the start of the Tarawera River and hence the next section of the course is absolutely beautiful. We run along the crystal-clear turquoise waters of the Tarawera River which culminates with the gushing white of the spectacular Tarawera Falls. Eventually we reach the trail end and we’re back on gravel road again. The road is initially flat until it gradually turns upwards. By 9pm, the darkness smothers us both on this endless gravel road. Though you may no longer see the gradual incline, you can certainly still feel it.

The crystal clear Tarawera River (above) and the spectacular Tarawera Falls (below)

The 11km section from Fenton Mill to Rotoiti aid station is pretty punishing. In fact, the gradual 3% gradient climb begins even before Fenton Mill so it’s actually 12km of gradual up. I take comfort in knowing that I didn’t have to do this section in the sun but not much else. It’s dark so your whole existence becomes reliant on a small cone of light and you’d be lucky if you were doing 10–11-minute kilometres. The up seems to go on forever and it’s steep enough to make any running unpleasant. All is quiet apart from the crunching of gravel beneath your feet which provides you with ample opportunity to reflect on your life choices. Milers certainly don’t get any easier. I don’t even think they get less hard. I’ve always encouraged exercise as a life style – a life style that you can build your home around. But in reality, you couldn’t build a life style around milers. If marathons were valleys, then milers would be mountains. And you wouldn’t want to build your house on a mountain. As much as one enjoys the views on top of a mountain, living on a mountain all year round would be too harsh. Hence mountains (like milers) are a great place to visit, but it would be ill-advised to build a home there. In saying that, I couldn’t possibly live in the valleys all day long and look upwards wondering. Some of my best experiences have been going up mountains including some of the most amazing views. Mountains are there to explore, to climb, to endure. Milers are challenging. Milers are hard. And though the climb is difficult and the journey is arduous, this was what I was built for. So while I can, I will keep visiting. Because one day we won’t be able to. And we’ll be wishing we could.

Millar Rd aid station at 4.15am with our pacers Shane (middle) and Tessa (far right)

Eventually what seems like hours of going up ends and we’re descending again. The descent is steep along freshly cut trail which is treacherous and slippery in the dark. When Courtney and I arrive at Okataina aid station (119km), it’s just after 1am which means we’ve been moving for a total of 21 hours. We’re greeted by our support crew – my cousins Shane and Paul and my wife’s friend Tessa who did the T21 (23km) earlier on in the day. They’ve obviously seen a few runners entering looking worse for wear as we’re told that we’re looking good (despite essentially doing three consecutive marathons). As if intuitively sensing my desire for further Domino’s pizza was wavering, Paul has brought some KFC popcorn chicken and fries which he has remarkably managed to keep hot. The hot salty food hits the mark beautifully and is a huge boost for morale! The next section from Okataina (119km) to Millar Road aid station (134km) is arguably the most feared part of the course for those in the know. It’s a deceptively long 15km which is reasonably technical and contains the steepest sustained climb of the whole course. On fresh legs, the climb out is not that intimidating. But after 120km, it’s transformed into a gnarly beast and I’d recommend that you save some fuel (or KFC) in the tank for this one. Courtney and Tessa take off like women possessed while I decide to stay a bit longer to complete lubrication formalities for the night. I wish them luck though I’m quietly concerned by this bravado. I’ve seen many athletes and their pacers take off with reckless abandon only to leave their running legs on that steep climb and their hopes of finishing in tatters. When I eventually leave Okataina, I’m accompanied by my cousin/pacer Shane who knows me well enough to know that I’m in no mood for a regimental sergeant major after 120km or after death o’clock. He does a poor job of inflating my ego though provides good companionship and we ascend in a slow sustainable manner until we eventually reach the starry sky above. As I course over the top, I know that a long downhill follows so I get my legs spinning again and pass the majority of runners and their pacers who attacked the climb earlier. The final 5km into Millar Road always seems to take forever due to a second climb (which is more gradual but equally taxing) that is often unappreciated at night. I eventually arrive into Millar Road aid station at about the same time as Courtney and Tessa around 4.15am. In previous years, Millar Road was a bit of a ‘death station’ but in recent years it’s been fantastic and lively. The lights are bright, the music is pumping, and the volunteers are shaking a groove. We all decide to stop for some Maggi 2-minute noodles but then get moving again before the rigor mortis sets in. Thirty kilometres to go!

Sunday sunrise over Blue Lake

Most DNFs (did not finish) occur at aid stations and Millar Road is no exception. If you can leave Millar Road aid station, you’ve got a good chance of finishing the miler. By now the course has thrown the majority of its punches. You’ve survived the Tarawera Trail, the long stretches of forestry roads in the Tarawera Forest, and the relentless climb in the dark out of Okataina. Get what you need from Millar Road and be brave for a few seconds and get moving again. Take heart in knowing that with each step, you’re getting closer to Rotorua and that the second sunrise should energise you. For the last 30km of the course, focus on briskly moving through the small lake town of Okareka, walking purposely through the rooty/technical single trail that connects Lake Okareka with the Blue Lake (a good one to practise if possible), and then shuffling the approximately 5km runnable circuit around the Blue Lake. By the time Courtney and I arrive at the Blue Lake aid station (146km), it’s just before 7am and the sun has risen. We’ve been on the move for about 27 hours and apart from Courtney stubbing her great toe around the Blue Lake (“hidden rock”), we’re still holding it together. Tessa swaps out for some beauty sleep and Courtney is joined by her second pacer, Shaun who also did the T21 (23km) the day prior. We leave Blue Lake with the sun to our backs and renewed confidence that we only have 17km to the finish. As we head towards the Redwood Forest, there is one final steep climb just past the water tower which we ascend together. It’s short and nasty but it’s also the miler’s last big punch (the steps leading down the Redwoods are merely jabs)! It’s shortly after this that I part with Courtney so I could selfishly finish under 30 hours and fulfil the Western States 100 qualifying criteria. I know that Courtney is in good hands with Shaun and I also KNOW that she will finish from here. Remarkably, running a miler as a couple has been very civil and we had no arguments whatsoever! I guess when you’re running a miler, you’re so absorbed with just keeping moving that you’ve got no time for petty grievances! I wish Courtney and Shaun luck and then pick the next downhill to attack the course. There is some painful reequilibrating and micro tearing of muscles but after this, the faster pace feels a lot better than my previous stiff and painful gait. I move relatively freely down the steps leading into the Redwoods (i.e. the jabs) and arrive at the Redwoods aid station (156km) at 8.40am. I stop briefly for some lollies and then link up with my pacer Shane again. From here, I increase my pace knowing that I’m dealing with small numbers / single digits now (7km to go)! It’s overcast so the steaming Sulphur Flats are more bearable and I manage to hold a 7 minute/kilometre pace all the way through Sulphur Point and to the finish. I cross the finish line just after 9.30am for a total finishing time of 29 hours and 34 minutes. Remarkably, Courtney is not far behind and in a sprint finish, finishes in 29 hours, 59 minutes, and 6 seconds, also meeting qualifying criteria for the Western States 100. The Molloy Family is lucky enough to have two finisher pounamu’s today! A shout out to my wife, my patient Pete, and Riana from Namibia for also completing their first milers! Running is Medicine.

Crossing the finish line with my pacer Shane

Courtney at the finish with her glammed-up pacers Shaun (left) and Tessa (right)