Skedaddle 15k: Winning My First Race (And Breaking the Course Record)

The story of my Skedaddle Leki "Dozer Line" 15k race.

Pre-Race Dance:

Woke up to a perfect New Zealand morning — a quiet Airbnb tucked in the middle of open fields, surrounded by sheep. Breakfast was the usual: a bowl of bran flakes, some granola, and two PB&J toasts before jumping in the car for a 45-minute drive through the sunrise on some of the most scenic roads you can imagine.

About 60 minutes before the start, I had a Maurten bar to top up after the early breakfast, (and then a Maurten gel five minutes before the start). A 15-minute warm-up with some drills and strides later, I was standing on the start line, heart already racing at around 100bpm — pure adrenaline.

Let the Show Begin:

At 9:30am, the race started — gunshot fired by an actual rifle. No joke.

I went full gas from the first step, quickly finding myself leading alongside another runner. Just before the first climb, I let him pass, but as the ascent started, I felt strong and decided to push. That was the last time I'd see anyone for the rest of the race.

Already deep in Zone 5, I figured I'd just keep pushing until I couldn't anymore — total maniac mode. The first big climb, two kilometres in the race, was brutal: 400m elevation gain over 3km, with sections hitting 30% gradient. I managed to run about 95% of it, only power-hiking the steepest bits, leaning forward, pushing off my knees, trying to keep the intensity as high as possible.

Elevation plot of the race

At the top, I was still alone. Nobody in sight. I flew past the first aid station, waving to the volunteers (I couldn’t really talk at that point 😂) and squeezed a Maurten caffeine gel into my mouth just before starting the savage descent beginning with a section nicknamed “the ankle breaker,” packed with loose rocks and steep drops. The second half of the descent was less technical, and I could open up and get some proper speed going.

The Final Push:

After the descent came a flatter section. Still no one behind me — but by now, something else was on my mind: the course record. James Millar set it last year at 1:14:40. I hadn’t thought about it before the race, but now? Maybe I could beat it.

Three kilometers left, and the final uphill began — another 100m climb. As the legs burned and the pace started to hurt, I kept frenetically glancing back, dreading to see someone chasing. And sure enough — I spotted a runner charging up behind me. Damn. He’s fast. Will I be able to fight him off?

My splits

As he got closer, I noticed his bib was a different color — turns out he was running the 10k! Relief. As he passed, I extended my hand to exchange a quick high-five, and wished him good luck for the finish. 1.5km to go. No one behind me. One last descent. It was getting real — my first race win was within reach.

But I stayed locked in: the course record was now the bigger prize. I glanced at my watch, made the classic quick mental math runners love to do, and realized: yes, it’s on. Flying down the last straight, the finish line tape in sight, I crossed the line in 1:13:09.

First win. New course record. Damn, it feels good.