Gold, Grit, and Grace at the NZ Road Relays
The days leading up to the New Zealand Road Relay Championships are always a strange mix of excitement and nerves. There’s that quiet hum in the air, the constant checking of weather forecasts, and the feeling that, no matter how many times you’ve done this before, the stakes are always high. This year, though, the rain that pelted down the night before cleared, and when race day arrived, everything clicked.
Our team delivered across the board, and we came away with the Masters 50 national title. For me, it was my first national title since 2020, adding to the five golds and one bronze I’ve won previously, but this one felt different. After the physical and mental battles I’ve faced in recent years, this victory was perhaps the most rewarding of them all.
Lap 4 – A Race Turns on a Knife Edge
Every good relay has a turning point, and ours came on Lap 4.
Paul was out on the road when Nick Moore, a long-time friend and formidable rival from Owairaka, surged past him. I know Nick well as I’ve raced him more times than I can count. He’s an aggressive, courageous racer, and when he goes to the front, he means business. He knew the depth of our team, and he was doing exactly what I would have done...squeeze every second he could out of the long lap.
I’d already run my leg, and as I watched it unfold from the van, I could tell Nick was going all in. His cadence was very high and Stephen and I estimated he was probably running at 31min pace. It crossed my mind that he’s occasionally gone too deep in 10k races before, but nothing could really prepare us for what was to come.
With about 3km to go, we made the call to get one last split check before driving to the next changeover to prepare Simon for Lap 5. As we passed, Nick had put about 90 seconds into us. A serious gap! I noticed then how warm and muggy it had become. The sun was beating down, there was no headwind, and the lap ran straight into the heat. For anyone right on the redline, there was zero margin for error.
When we neared the changeover, I saw a runner from another team collapsed in the grass being attended to. It wasn’t someone I recognised, but it sharpened my awareness of how tough the conditions had become. Hot, humid, unforgiving...and how brutal the racing was.
A few minutes later, as whispers started to circulate around the changeover zone, the news came through, a second runner had collapsed, and this time it was Nick. As the relay progressed, we learned that a number of runners had gone down on that same lap. It had been a perfect storm, an honest course, aggressive racing, and weather that punished any miscalculation.
It’s a strange, conflicted feeling. Part of you feels the adrenaline spike as you process what this might mean for the race, another part immediately worries for your mate. I’ve been on teams where medals have been snatched away by injury or misfortune, and it’s a horrible way to lose. I genuinely felt for Nick and for the Owairaka lads.
As Paul came in and Simon took off for Lap 5, I went straight to the Owairaka guys to make sure they understood the rules around replacement runners. I passed on the info, wished them luck, and then turned back to focus on our race.
We went on to win the title, and thankfully, Nick was okay after what had been a scary moment. Later that day, I caught up with him to check in and have a chat.
What I was most proud of wasn’t just the result, it was how our team handled it. We were genuinely concerned for Nick, but we also had a job to do. We managed that balance with respect and humility, and I think we represented our club well.
The Scottish Way
That humility is something I love about Wellington Scottish. Over the years, I’ve been part of many different teams and seen many different cultures, but there’s something special about Scottish.
We’re competitive, no question. We turn up to big events ready to perform, and our medal tally across all grades reflects that. But alongside that competitive fire sits a deep respect for the sport, for other competitors, and for the volunteers who make these events happen. We race hard, but we also carry ourselves well, whether we win, lose, or somewhere in between.
This culture didn’t happen overnight, it’s been built over decades. Through the example of club legends, through shared experiences at relays, road and XC champs, and through a collective understanding that how you win matters just as much as winning itself.
At relays especially, where adrenaline runs high and small moments can define the day, that culture is our anchor. It’s in the way we support our slower runners just as much as our stars. It’s in the way we celebrate together but never gloat. It’s in how we handle moments like Nick’s collapse, with empathy first, competitiveness second.
I’ve seen clubs where this kind of culture doesn’t exist. Where winning is everything, even at the expense of respect. I’m grateful that Scottish stands for something more.
A Word on Sportsmanship
Not everyone covered themselves in glory this year. I heard of at least two occasions where leading runners were yelling at officials mid-race, demanding time penalties or questioning calls on the fly.
Look, relays are intense and I get that. Emotions run high, and everyone wants to win. But that doesn’t give anyone the right to treat officials poorly. These are volunteers, often standing out there for hours, ensuring we have a fair and safe race. As athletes, our job is to run hard, follow the rules, and let the officials do theirs.
“The heat of the battle” is no excuse. In fact, it’s in the heat of the battle that character is revealed. The best athletes I’ve seen are those who keep their focus on the race, trust the process, and let their legs do the talking.
Poor behaviour might get you a fleeting advantage, but it chips away at the integrity of the sport. The road relay is one of the most special events on the calendar, a rare mix of individual effort and team glory. It deserves better than athletes berating officials or forgetting their responsibilities in the moment.
More Than Just a Race
This year’s relay was a reminder of everything I love about this event. The shared nerves, the team drama, the unexpected twists, and the moments that reveal character. Winning another national title was just the cherry on top. What I’ll remember most is how we navigated the highs and lows together, with grit, respect, and a touch of grace.