12 Weeks Off-Road: A Road Runner’s Foray into the Trails
With WUU2K coming up this weekend, it felt like the right time to look back on what was, for me, a bit of a left turn, both literally and figuratively. One year ago, I swapped my Vaporflys and the familiar flat loops of K Park for Speedgoats, hydration vests, and a whole new appreciation for things like terrain, vert, and toe nails.
That 12-week stretch of training for the WUU2K 65km Ultra was my first proper step into trail running. It was a change of scene, a change of mindset, and honestly, a refreshing reminder of why I love running in the first place.
Same Sport, Different Rhythm
From a distance, road and trail running might look alike. Both involve putting one foot in front of the other. But to anyone who’s done both, they can feel worlds apart.
Road running is precise and predictable. It suits a goal-oriented mind like mine. You train in blocks, sharpen with speed, and measure success with surgical precision. There’s a deep satisfaction in nailing a K-Park tempo session or chasing down a marathon PB.
Trail running, on the other hand, embraces the unpredictable. It trades uniformity for variety, pace for perspective, and structure for spontaneity. An hour on the trails might yield just 8km, but it’s an 8km filled with roots, rivers, ridgelines, and humility. Out there, it’s not about the numbers. It’s about feel, effort and presence.
Neither is better, they’re just different flavours of the same joy. As I found out, blending them can breathe new life into both your running and your mindset.
My Trail Turnaround
I owe my brief, but memorable, trail conversion to two people. Liz Palmer and Sean Martin. I work with Liz, and she often shared stories and photos from long runs in the hills. I finally gave in to curiosity and tagged along one beautiful morning on the Puke Ariki Trail through the Belmont Hills, from Dry Creek to Korokoro.
I’d run there before with my road mates, usually trying to keep up or win the final flat section. However this run was different. Slower, looser, better, somehow. It felt... grounding. Like there was more room to just be out there enjoying being active, rather than always chase something.
A week later, I went out again. This time a 4 hour adventure into the southern hills. It was the longest I’d been on my feet in years, and something shifted. That evening, I signed up for the WUU2K 65km. Not out of ego but out of curiosity. I wanted to see where this might lead.
Goodbye Splits, Hello Snacks
Trail training required a different approach. Gone were the Saturday 8.30am K-Park sessions and the imperfect loop tempos. In their place, long slow climbs, gear planning, and the occasional test of how much food I could carry in one vest.
I learned to focus on "time on feet," not distance. To value the aerobic base and strength that came from just showing up and getting through the terrain. Some weekends I hit triple long runs, 2 hours Friday, 2 again on Saturday, 4 hours Sunday. That Sunday nearly broke me, but it also left me feeling surprisingly strong.
There were setbacks too. Many many black toenails and a realisation that trail gear is an entire universe (and an expensive one) in itself. I got a hydration vest, a new jacket, 4 pairs of trail shoes that could probably scale Everest, and a long list of mandatory race gear.
I loved it, especially the training. Without the pressure of pace or performance, weekends felt more like exploration than obligation. But I won’t pretend I didn’t miss the clarity that road training gives. You always know where you stand when you’re on the track or hammering K-Park loops at pace. Trail fitness is a little more... elusive.
Race Day - Pain, Perseverance, and a Forgotten Cap
WUU race morning arrived and, true to form, I’d nailed every bit of prep. Fueling plan, gear list, pacing strategy all sorted. Except one small but critical thing, my cap. It was raining at the base of Mt Kaukau and I was quietly fuming at myself. Luckily, a few quick texts later, Mel had activated a rescue chain involving Kristian, Mark, and a mid-race handoff at Makara Saddle. You learn quickly on the trails that your friends are as essential as your shoes.
The early stages went to plan. I jogged/walked most of the Kaukau climb, got into a decent rhythm across Skyline and, despite all my internal promises to just “enjoy the day”, I found myself checking the live leaderboard by the first aid station. Up to 10th, sweet! LOL! Kristian gave me a well-timed reminder that I was probably moving too fast, and in hindsight, he was absolutely right.
Then came the moment that really revealed my trail inexperience. Around the 18km mark, weaving through the lower Makara trails, I spotted what looked like the perfect rock to launch off. It was flat and it was firm. It was full of propulsion...in my mind, anyway. So, with all the confidence of someone who’d spent 99% of his running career on sure-footed tarmac, I planted my foot firmly down. Big mistake!
Turns out it was very flat but not firm, or remotely grippy. My foot slid out from under me and I went down hard in a heap. Took a chunk out of my palm, which at the time felt like the main issue. I bounced back up quickly, wrapped up my hand with adrenaline masking the real damage. I'd badly strained a hip flexor that would slowly unravel the second half of my race.
By the time I hit Salvation, the limp had set in. Every uphill was a painful grind and every downhill was worse. That rock, and the misplaced trust I put in it, was a humbling reminder that trail running rewards respect and punishes assumptions.
If it weren’t for Mel pacing me over those final 20-odd km and the Voltaren tablets Ruby passed on, I honestly don’t know if I would’ve finished, but I did. Somehow 18th overall and 2nd Vet. Not my greatest race, but certainly one of my hardest fought and probably the one I learned the most from.
Road vs. Trail? That’s the Wrong Question
Road running delivers precision and speed. Trail running invites freedom and perspective. One hones performance, the other builds resilience. One teaches you how fast you can go, the other teaches you how far you can push, even when things go sideways.
I’ve found that the best runners, the happiest and most resilient ones don’t stick to one surface. They mix it up. They respect the grind of a good road session and the calm of a slow, wind-blown ascent. They know the benefit of being adaptable.
In the end, we’re not road runners or trail runners. We’re just runners.
Thinking About Mixing It Up?
If you're considering a switch, or even a blend. I coach runners across both road and trail. Whether you’re stepping off the footpath for the first time, or easing back to the road after a season in the hills, I can help craft a training plan that suits your goals, lifestyle, and strengths.