“If you’ve got any sprint left in you, go for it.”
Steph and I were 1500m from the Glade Wharf, the head of Lake Te Anau, and she was imploring me to leave her behind. We'd run some 60 km in the last nine hours, including 1800m of elevation, and we were late for the last boat leaving the wharf for civilisation.
But it was Christmas Day. Would there be some Christmas magic in the air? Would the boat captain—knowing of two runners on their way—decide to wait for us?
I was utterly exhausted, but I "sprinted" across the pristine grounds of Glade House, a private lodge. A slight uphill as the trail reentered the forest triggered a flurry of heaving and guttural grunting. I cried out at the first glimpse of the lake, not in delight at the discovery of a waiting boat, but in case a captain who’s about to leave might hear it and wait a tad longer.
My legs were
