Hot off the heels of securing my permanent bib at the Canadian Ski Marathon, I found myself once again boarding a bus, skis in hand, ready to tackle another great adventure. Less than 6 days after finishing the 167km journey of CSM, I was set to race two days back-to-back at the 40th Annual Gatineau Loppet! Day 1 would be the 51km linear Classic race, followed by repeating the exact same 51km course the next day, but this time on skate skis. Beyond the challenge of just mentally preparing for such a feat less than a week after CSM, this time, I had to put myself in ‘race’ mode. As CSM was not a race, but an event, the mental game at the Gatineau Loppet was different. The reward however, is that by completing both weekends, I would once again be successful in getting my name on the wall of the ‘Triple Ski Challenge‘, a relatively small group of folks who tackle the full marathon, plus the two back-to-back long loppet challenges. Continue reading Doubling Down at the Gatineau Loppet
Hello friends! Seems like my blog posts are becoming fewer and farther between, but I assure you it is not for a lack of my being active. On the contrary, I’m still up to my tricks, training and racing whenever the urge strikes. However, I find these days with other platforms around, I often just scratch out a short FB post instead to summarize some of my exploits. However, sometimes, it’s still worth me archiving results in a more permanent way with a full story. This post it such a time, as it will talk about my recent [successful] completion of my 7th Canadian Ski Marathon completion in a row as a Coureur des Bois. Having 5 gold camp finishes under my belt scored me a permanent bib this year! Read on for the whole story. Continue reading The Seven Year Itch – Getting a Permanent CSM Bib!
My trail running race season had wrapped up. It was time to turn my focus to winter sports. So why then did I find myself on a Thursday night hitting ‘register’ for a 50k trail race in 2 days? Some might say I have an addiction of sorts. They would be correct. The bottom line was that my feet felt good, my legs felt good, and I was looking for that little bit of motivation to keep active going into winter. Plus, the race was taking place at the Ark, which has a soft spot in my heart. All told, I couldn’t really find a reason NOT to race on the weekend with friends in the beautiful fall colours. So begins my tale from the Mad Trapper Relentless 50k Trail Race. Read on, friends. Continue reading Spontaneous Trail Triumph
As I crested yet another little rise, feeling the many kilometers in my entire body, I could utter only a single word to myself in my internal monologue: “run”. So goes the simple existence of an ultra-runner deep into a long race. In this case, it was the 106km Midnight Moose Ultra, taking place in Gatineau Parc, so near my house, yet so far away mentally. The mantra I trained myself to repeat ad nauseum is simple: “Run where you can, walk where you have to”. This truly is the key to getting through an ultra. You need to simplify, and try not to get into your own head. This race was slated to be my final race of the 2017 season, so I had entered it with a couple goals. Firstly, I wanted to complete the race in under 13 hours, and the 2nd goal was to reach the podium. I’ve been happy with my season (yes, including the DNF at Sinister 7), but the true podium had eluded me all season. Read on to hear more about this backyard ultra, being put on for the first time. Continue reading Chasing the Moose through the Darkness
Now that you’ve read all about the lead-up to the big race, it’s time to get into the actual race reporting, isn’t it? First off, let’s clear up the title of this post. As many of you are aware, a month before this trip, I also found myself out west for another race, the aptly-named Sinister 7, which of course you can read all about. Unfortunately, at that race, I ended up with a DNF, but one that I had to wear as a badge of honour in my journey as an ultra runner. The conditions and my own mental shortcomings were to blame. As a result, I was looking for a little redemption, and the Squamish 50/50 was just the ticket. If you are not aware, the Squamish 50/50 sees racers tackle a tough 50 mile course in the mountains around Squamish on a Saturday, then the next morning, you have to toe the line once again to race in the 50 km course, whcih is essentially the 50 TOUGHEST km of the 50 miler. For you efforts, if you succeed, you get a truckers hat. Nothing more, nothing less (unless you count getting a hug from the legendary Gary Robbins, which incidentally, I did).
On the day before the 50 miler, it was all about getting ready mentally and dealing with some last minute logistics. This included race registration, packing drop bags, sorting race clothes and food, amongst a myriad of other little things. Since I’d be producing videos on both days, I also wanted to get some footage in the area, and interview the race director. I also convinced Deanna that it would be a good idea to do a little course scoping to give us a sense of the terrain. To those ends, we checked out a couple of the climbs, the terrain, and the course markings. For Deanna, it really started to hit home what she’d be taking on the next day. So far, I liked what I saw, with excellent course markings and mountain bike trails. I’d be getting very familiar with this terrain over the next two days.
Day 1 – The 50 Miler – 80.3km, 3,400m Climbing
Race morning came all too early, with the alarm clocks shrieking at 4am for us to get up. We were staying at Quest University, in a dorm room in single beds. Ironically, this was also the site of one of the aid stations, but we had to make our way to the start line for briefings and to gradually make our way back here, which was well over the halfway point of the 50 miler. The 50 Miler is broken into 8 distinct legs, with the first 1.5 being pretty innocuous, and much of the climbing packed into the latter part of the course. As such, pacing at the beginning is key, and not getting lulled into a false sense of ‘this is easy’ given the flat terrain. Overall, racers have 17 hours to complete this course, so that tells you how the back end feels.
To those ends, after an animated race briefing by Gary Robbins at the start line (and a Coffee with Bailey’s for Deanna!), we got underway at about 5:45am. We had headlamps on (mandatory), but the sun was already making itself known, so the lights were mostly unnecessary. The first 10km was frankly boring, with roads and gravel roads, all pretty much flat and wide. This is on purpose, as we wind through the town of Squamish, warming up for the challenge ahead. With the sun rising, you also got to see the sun illuminate the mountains around us.
In no time, we were in to Aid Station 1, where there were already decent crowds despite the early hour. I ditched my headlamp here with a volunteer, but other than that, just kept running. I was looking forward to Leg 2 featuring the first big climb, Debeck Hill. It didn’t disappoint. We plunged into well-maintained mountain bike trails with lots of flow and gradually made our way up and up, before a great screaming descent into Aid Station 2 at Alice Lake. Here, I took the time to top off fluids and grab a few baby potatoes and chips. Everything was working well, and I felt good. My foot was bothering me a bit, but nothing I couldn’t manage.
Leg 3 was a solid roller of a stage, which featured more climbs, and absolutely trails through forests that were just starting to have the sunlight filter through branches, making it easy to lose yourself in thoughts of the beauty and special journey we were on. I had opportunity to chat with different people, some local, some from away, some first-timers, some veterans. All of us sharing in the community that we call ultra running, and chasing our own goals. Unless you are truly at the head of the race, it is rarely about ‘winning’, but the journey, and I was happy to be lost in the journey today.
The 3rd Aid station is one we actually visited twice. Between visits, we were taken on a trail called ‘Innards’ which is apparently one of Gary’s favourite trails. Here we were treated to a fair number of wooden features built for mountain bikers. It doesn’t take long before you realize that most of these trails were purpose-built for riders. The local MTB association, SORCA, has put a TON of work into making and maintain these trails, and we got to benefit from this. Years back, I actually raced on some of these trails on my own bike, when I took part in the BC Bike Race, but that all seemed a lifetime away as I picked my feet along these routes that look completely different when you are running them.
Ahhh Leg 5. One of the real gems of the course, and the location of the biggest climb of the entire race, a lovely little trail noted as ‘Galactic’ on the sign, but much better known by the full name of Galactic Scheisse. From a relatively low altitude of 300m, on this climb we reached our highest point of 1350m. It was slow going, and most of it was actually under the cover of trees, so we didn’t have a ton of views to marvel over. Even worse, in my opinion, is that at the top, you don’t even end up anywhere with a view, so it sort of felt like we had climbed in vain. My whole purpose for climbing is the views normally. My consolation prize would have to be the crazy descent!
After cresting this large climb, it was time to head down some great MTB trails and into the next aid station, which was supposed to just be a water/coke/gel kind of aid station, but much to my surprise, they’d managed to get some ‘real’ food out there for us, so I enjoyed a few more baby potatoes and some chips. This aid station was really just meant to be a little pick-me-up before the main even, the next aid station, which was a biggie. Quest University, only 5km downhill from us, over the halfway point, and location of our 2nd drop bags, and also where a lot of friends and family would gather for racers. Of course, for me, it was a ‘lonely’ stop, since of course my important ‘crew’ was racing as well! However, on the upside, when I arrived, I was treated to some tasty freezies being handed out by local kids. Delicious, and a great treat on this warm dry day.
Obviously, the goal is not to linger too long at these aid stations, so after replenishing some food in my pack, and re-filling my hydration, it was off to the races! Although we’d now been going downhill for a while now, that was all about to change on Leg 7, as soon after Quest, we turned skyward, and entered another long sustained climb. This one threw me for a loop, as at one point earlyish in the climb, we criss-crossed some wooden structures where runners were speeding downhill, so I thought we were near the top already. I was very wrong. This was a long way from the top, and there was a lot of climbing to do. Luckily, we were lucky to again be on some great singletrack trail as we made our way up. Plenty of ‘gentle’ switchbacks that were built for cyclists, and therefore not too steep. I was definitely looking froward to the top though.
We finally reached a flat trail that went straight for a bit. In the distance, I could see flagging tape, signs, and arrows, along with a volunteer. Instinct told me the downhill roller coaster was imminent, and I was right. I’d say this was one of my top two favourite descents of the day. Fast and furious, and going up and over a bunch of neat built-up features. This descent finished faster than I thought it would, popping me out on a forest service road, and straight into the second final aid station. I still felt good, and was cheered on as I quickly filled a bottle, grabbed a little bit of food, including some tasty watermelon. I wasted no time in getting onto Leg 8, which featured more fun downhill and winding forest trails. At this point, things were all a bit of a blur, as it was just one great MTB trail after another in succession, with more fun bridges and features.
Although I was getting a bit tired, I was still very much on track for my planned finish of 12 hours, and was buoyed by the fact that the final aid station lay just ahead of me. I had heard rumours of this aid station being fashioned after a Tiki bar, with the pre-requisite alcohol being on offer. Crossing the gorgeous Mamquam gorge, and making my way along a forest road, I finally saw the Tiki mirage not far ahead, with volunteers in grass skirts and leis directing me in. As I entered, I called out ‘I hear I can summon the Kraken here’, to which I was guided to one of the far tables, at which point the kind folks pulled out a full bottle of Kraken dark rum. I had a nice big warm shot of the liquid fuel, chased it with a swig of Coke, grabbed more potatoes, and trotted out, knowing I was on the final 11km leg of the race!
However, Leg 9 is no walk in the park. After a full day of climbing and descending, we still faced two climbs on the final leg. While they weren’t super long or anything, it is their placement that makes them a challenge. Luckily, being rum-powered, I found an extra gear on the machine, and I dare say I flew along that leg, passing quite a few people, even though I knew I had another day of racing ahead of me, I wanted to push this leg and finish strong, for me more than anything. I sang and skipped along as I picked my way through yet more great trails. As opposed to Sinister 7, this time I had made a point to have the entire course profile printed and handy so that I knew EXACTLY when I’d be climbing, and where I could let loose and fly. As a result, I knew when I’d be up and over the ‘Mountain of Phlegm’, which was the final climb of the day. Of course, there was also a great volunteer at the top to confirm this with me!
I knew the rest of the run in was downhill to the town area, then onto paved path and road to the finish for a few kilometers. The only thing that the profile didn’t tell me about were the stairs on the final descent! Luckily, I was happy to bounce down them 2 at a time, flying past rock climbers plying their trade on the granite to my right. Soon enough, I popped out at a parking lot, greeted by the ‘2.5km to go’ sign. I was fading a bit, but knew it was a straight push to the finish in the warm glow of the sun. I checked timing and knew I should make it, but I suddenly realized it would be tight, and I’d have to push hard. So I dug in, and did exactly that, covering the last chunk faster than I’d covered anything else in a while. Cheering crowds and Gary Robbins welcomed me over the line at just under the 12 hour mark. Grabbed some footage and my medal, and called it a day!
However, it wasn’t the end of my day, as now the waiting would begin. In a bit of role reversal, now I was the one at the finish nervously awaiting news of how Deanna might be doing and see her cross the line. Ideally, I would have been eating a nice meal and resting and preparing for my 50k race the next day, but instead, I settled for a hasty shower, a hot dog, and sitting in the grass, camera in hand, waiting patiently. Unfortunately, there was no on-course timing or tracking, so there was NO news. The only thing I could confirm after a few hours’ wait was that she was NOT one of the people that had quit the course. This was music to my ears, as I just knew that if she was still going after 15 hours, she WOULD be finishing. So I waited. And then, at around 15 hours and 44 minutes, I saw some bobbing headlamps in the distance making their way to the finish line. It was Deanna! She came in strong, with a big smile (in large part no doubt relieved to be done). Happy to get a big from Gary, she had done it!
Although I felt a bit bad about rushing her a bit, I was a bit anxious to get back to our room so I could do some prep for my looming 50k the next day. We hung around long enough for her to chat a bit with some new friends she’d made on the trail, as well as chatting with the race director. She also grabbed a hot dog, and we headed for the car. On the way back, we made a slight detour to McDonalds so I could grab an uber-healthy McChicken and fries as a bit of sustenance.
Day 1 Video Re-Cap
Day 2 – 52.1km , 2,425m Climbing
So, what can I actually say about the 2nd day that wasn’t already covered in the first day? As it turns out, not a whole lot, since every kilometer that I’d be racing on this day was a repeat of the first day, apart from the first few hundred meters at the start of the day. For this race, we were starting at Alice Lake, which had served as the second aid station the previous day. Start time was set for 6am, so headlamps would not be needed. However, it would have been useful prior to the start, as i found myself stumbling in the dark around the park trying to find a washroom. Eventually, I got that sorted out, and made my way to the start area about 10 minutes before the fun was going to get underway.
No doubt you are wondering: how was I feeling? How did I convince myself to get to that start line? Well, as far as the first question goes, I felt tired. I was a bit stiff and sore. But as to the second question? I got myself there because this is what I signed up for. Why wouldn’t I go there? Luckily, in my years of experience in racing a wide range of events, I have found myself in this position before, convincing my body that it does actually want to race AGAIN. The thing to note here is that your body can cope with these stresses. It is more often the mind that can’t cope, which is what causes folks to decide they wno’t get out of bed and tackle day 2. These are the same little niggling thoughts that hold people back from getting out and training in the rain, or when they don’t feel like it. You just have to get over YOU, and get there. I guess that’s what they call motivation. Find your motivation and get out there!
The fact is, 100% of the people that don’t start Day 2 don’t finish and get their hat! Of those that actually do start the second day, over 80% of them will succeed! Moreover, a lot of people actually feel better on the second day after they’ve gotten past the first leg or so. I think the reason is that on the 2nd day, you are much less likely to be pushing for a win or your best possible time. The focus is more on efficiency, running well, and enjoying the day. And with that can come surprises on performance. Take the pressure off, and magical things can happen out there.
True to those words, I launched into the first leg by sticking myself literally at the back of the entire field, and starting at a power walk, gradually moving to a run-shuffle, before finally moving back into more of a true run after the first couple kilometers. Just in time for the first climb of the day out of Alice Lake. At this point, my body was completely in sync with the task at hand, and I headed up that climb with as much power as the day before, passing people on my way, and singing aloud and encouraging all my other 50/50 colleagues (we were sort of clumped together early in the race due to the slower start for us).
The rest of the day for me went well, and I did feel progressively stronger as stages ticked by. I’m not saying Galactic was any easier on day 2, but I knew exactly what the terrain held for me, so mentally, I was prepared for each of the challenges. This played out best on the long climb after Quest as well, knowing exactly how long we’d be climbing. Another high point was the fact that I knew I’d see Deanna somewhere along the race course this day. Turned out that was Quest University, where she snapped pictures of me while I scaled the stairs to my drop bag to replenish food and fluids. Although I never spend much time chatting, and am pretty focused on the race, it is still a huge boost when I see her, even if she can’t tell from me ‘race mode’ face.
Once again on day 2, I summoned the Kraken at the final aid station, opting to swig directly from the bottle this time, at their insistence. Once again, I got that warm feeling my chest, and felt more weightless heading into the final stage. And yes, I truly flew through this section once again, passing a ton of people (many of whom were obviously only 1 day racers!). Looking at my timing, I again got paranoid about my timing, but couldn’t remember exactly how long it had taken me the day before. As a result, I kept pushing very hard to the finish. My goal had been 8 hours on day 2, and I’m happy to report I crossed at 7h 44 minutes! This finish secured me my 50/50 Finisher’s Hat, and more importantly, I had gotten my redemption for last month’s Sinister 7 DNF. I’m very happy with my combined time, which netted me 24th overall, and 5th in my category. Nothing to sneeze at after a tough year of training, racing, and nagging injuries.
Whew! Racing out of the way, it was time to wrap up our Western vacation. We had one final day, as we were flying out on a red eye the following day. This gave us time the next day to try out another local’s spot for a delicious brunch. If you are in Squamish, we highly recommend Fergie’s Cafe. From there, we had time to kill, so we hit the highway and made our way up to Whistler to do a bit of light (read: flat) hiking in the area, as well as hitting a couple breweries and a coffee shop for good measure. From there, it was just a drive to the airport, with another short stop in Squamish at Howe Sound Brewing where the post-race party was getting underway. I was very glad we stopped there though, as it gave me some great 1 on 1 time with Gary to talk adventure racing, ultra running, and the Barkley Marathons. Yes, wheels are churning in my head, but I’m not ready or worthy quite yet.
Alrighty, this mega blog post has got to come to a close, doesn’t it? Thanks for sticking with me on this journey, and stay tuned for my next race, which is the Midnight Moose Ultra. Ultimately, due to the S7 DNF, this will end up being my longest race of the season at 103km (most of which will be in darkness). Till then, make sure you check out my Day 2 video below, and get out there and FIND YOUR MOTIVATION!
Day 2 Re-Cap Video
I looked down at my watch again and did the math in my head for the thousandth time. I’d lost some time on this leg, but in theory, it was still *possible* that I’d be able to finish my first 100 miler within the 30 hour time limit. However, there were a few problems. First, it was nearing 10pm, and my headlamp was in my transition bag which was another mountainous 8km of singletrack away. In addition, I wasn’t actually sure when I had last ate or drank anything, and my whole body felt ‘off’. And so it came to pass that I had to make peace with my decision to pull myself out at the next checkpoint, at the 82.2km point in the race after having given it my all for nearly 15 hours. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my story of the Sinister 7 Ultra!
Two weeks have passed since I excitedly got to the start line, did some pre-race yoga and centered myself before launching into what I knew was going to be a tough race. It is high time that I share my whole story with you all. First off, there will be no excuses. I made my own decisions about this race, and feel that in spite of everything, I did show up in form to actually get this done. Yes, I have some leg issue that I’m awaiting an MRI to diagnose, and I hadn’t ran that much since my last 50 miler as a result, but I felt mentally ready, which in this kind of race counts the most.
Sinister 7 isn’t so much a race as it is a crucible designed to test your mettle. While the relay racer category boasts the higher numbers, it is the like-minded group of solos that make this race legendary. Celebrating its 10th year, this year’s edition was definitely the toughest by all accounts. The course had been tweaked, making it just a little tougher, and the weather this year was unrelentingly hot during the day. Given these conditions, less than 18% of the solos actually completed the event, so I was in the vast majority with my DNF, but actually got further than a lot of other racers. But why? Let’s examine.
First off, I was really excited to finally head out west in Canada for a race this year, and was actually re-tracing the footsteps of my immigrant father (but that’s for another story) by arriving in Calgary. Mountains always hold an allure for me, so the setting of Crowsnest Pass was ideal in my mind for a first attempt at the 100 mile distance in trail running. Never mind that this is one of the hardest hundred milers not only in Canada, but North America. As somewhat usual for me, in order to ensure there would be an audience for my success or failure, I was covering this race by producing a video for Get Out There Magazine (see epic final video below), which meant filming not only before and after my race, but during the race itself.
So, how could I make things even more challenging? Well, how about racing it solo and completely unsupported? That’s right, whereas the majority of solo racers would arrive at transition zones to hordes of family and friends there to cater to their every whim, I was on my own to fight through the people to get things like peanut butter sandwiches and water. Mind you, there were oodles of AMAZING volunteers willing to help how they could, but the added dimension of being self-supported is a challenge. However, typically, I thrive in such settings, so again, no excuses, and I relish that extra effort I had to make to keep myself motivated and moving.
The race itself is broken into 7 overall stages, each with their own difficulty ratings. The first to legs are on the ‘easier’ side, but make no mistakes, they are only on the ‘easier’ side compared to the other legs of Sinister 7, meaning they are also tough. Leg 3 of this race is the second longest and has the second most elevation gain, but when you get to it, you are tackling it in the middle of they day, and much of it is exposed. When you factor in that it was around 35 degrees that day, you quickly see why it claimed many victims this year.
I’m proud to say I wasn’t one of them. I had played my game carefully to this point. But let’s back it up. The day before, I did everything I could to stay focused and relaxed, hanging out with a few friends from home that were also racing. We took a nice ride to see some of the sights, including the worlds largest truck, as well as some of the course transition spots, to get a sense of the race. We had an amazing pre-race meal at the registration / race expo site. We were bandit camping in the woods right at the finish area, so we wouldn’t have to re-locate the next day after the race. I got a decent amount of horizontal time in my tent (I wouldn’t say I really slept much, but at least I was laying down).
We got up around 5am in order to catch a shuttle shortly after 6am to the start line, a short drive away. While warm early in the morning, it wasn’t sweltering yet. I’d made some last minute purchases to prepare for the forecasted heat, including cooling arm sleeves, a cooling buff, and a new white hat with a mini cape. The cooling gear was purported to produce coolness when it is wet, so I had high hopes for it.
At 7am, the race got underway, and I decided to reign in my speed, and pace myself by running with my friend Cal Mitchell, who is legendary in that he has actually completed the Grand Slam of Ultras, which is four 100 milers in a span of 2 months! If anyone knows how to pace in different conditions, it’s Cal. Plus, he’d completed Sinister 7 before, so had firsthand course knowledge. We ran side by side for much of leg 1, with me only pulling ahead a few times to grab some video footage. However, by the time we closed in on Transition Area 1, I had somehow gotten about 10 minutes ahead of him, so chose to cool off in a creek and await him. When Cal got in, it seemed he wasn’t having the best day, and he urged me to keep going without him, and just trust my own pacing.
I’d completed leg 1 in 2 hrs 18 minutes, only 12 minutes ahead of my planned pace. I left TA1 pretty much bang on my planned schedule. Leg 2 was a beautiful stage, with some gnarly climbs, but extremely rewarding views higher up, and a sweet section of trail on the edge of a hill with great sidelong views. The end of if featured some super fun twisty turning descents, and I felt pretty good. I was calm, heart rate under control, and nutrition and hydration completely dialed in. I cruised into TA2 (which we also see as TA3) feeling happy. Once again, I was exactly on pace, arriving at pretty much the 5 hour mark, giving me a theoretical 2 hour buffer when compared to the cutoffs.
Knowing that the next leg was going to be brutally hot, I made sure my 2.5L bladder was completely filled, and grabbed a couple peanut butter sandwiches before turning around and trotting back out. I didn’t touch my transition bag at this point, as I had all I needed. I was also making liberal use of my trekking poles, and they were pretty much a fixture in my hands for the rest of the race.
Although I haven’t mentioned other racers, I will note that throughout the day, there were plenty of great conversations, and trading footsteps with other hearty solo racers as well as relay team people. Although I’d spend lots of time alone, there always seemed to be people not that far away, so if you slowed pace, inevitably someone would show up to perk you back up. On Leg 3, this was much appreciated, as it definitely started feeling like a race of attrition. Temperatures were soaring, and it was starting to get very challenging to regulate my body heat.
Leg 3 (see full race leg descriptions here) featured a series of climbs and descents, with many of them quite exposed. To deal with the heat, I basically stopped at every single trickle of a stream to dump my hat in the water, soak my buff, and wet down my arms and legs. There was simply no escaping the heat, and we were still burning tons of calories, while not fully replenishing them. I have enough experience that I know what I need to do, but it was TOUGH to keep things in check. Luckily, I’d known Leg 3 was a critical ‘make or break’ stage, so I worked hard at managing everything.
I’d given myself a conservative 6 hours for this leg, and wouldn’t you know it, I cruised into the Transition Area at 5:58pm, having taken pretty much precisely 6 hours to cover this leg. I was happy to see I was racing exactly to my plan. This is absolutely key in a race like this. I made the decision at TA3 to take a little longer rest to change socks and shoes, giving me a chance to check my feet over. That’s when I discovered that somewhere in all the punishing downhill runs, I’d *finally* managed to nearly completely dislodge one of my big toenails. As a result, I ended up spending over 25 minutes in transition while I waited for a medic to remove the toenail and associated lingering tissue (yes, I know, yuck!), and then completely patch it up to prevent infection later.
I would say this was the start of my undoing in the race. You see, instead of taking the time to properly eat and drink in the aid station, I was stuck sitting in a chair while they worked on me. Then, anxious to make some time back up, I abruptly headed back out. Yes, I’d re-filled on fluids, added food to my pack, but I should have eaten and drank a bit more while in the relative calm of the transition. However, given that I’d been right on track, I knew I had to get moving.
In my mind, Leg 3 had been the ‘beast’, and Leg 4 would give me a reprieve. This was my second fatal flaw. I had not actually studied the course / leg profile, and was therefore not intimately aware with what was awaiting me. I won’t make that mistake again. With the hot temperatures still sitting with us well into the evening (it was now around 6:30pm), I set out at a modest pace, and attempted to eat and drink a bit on the first climb (since you’re forced to hike anyway). I marveled as a couple young gents blazed past me, but realized they were clearly relay racers with fresh legs.
In all honesty, it’s tough to truly recall that much about Leg 4 even now. Looking back at the profile, I now understand why I was losing my mind. There was a MONSTER CLIMB that I totally didn’t count on. This essentially killed my mental state. I hit a very deep low, and couldn’t seem to climb out of it. The longer the climb lasted, the more I felt like this was completely unnecessary suffering, and I wanted it to end. Even once I FINALLY reached the top, I was in a funk. That’s when I realized I’d more or less stopped eating and drinking, and had no desire to try to get back into that groove.
Looking at my watch, I also realized I’d lost over an hour as compared to my plan, which further dissuaded me. In reality, even with my conservative plan, I’d left 2 ‘spare’ hours for unforeseen challenges, but I felt it was too ‘early’ to be using those up. After all, the hardest leg is Leg 6, and I was a long way from there! Due to the lost time, I also made the realization that I wouldn’t finish this leg in the daylight, and I had made a STUPID last-minute to move my headlamp from my TA3 bag to my TA4 bag, meaning I’d be stuck finishing this leg without light. If you’re keeping track, that was fatal flaw #3!
All of these circumstances culminated in my mentally throwing in the towel. During the slow, arduous descent to the next checkpoint, I convinced myself that I was going to pull out at the next checkpoint. I rehearsed what I’d say in my mind, and even thought I was at peace with it. I’d managed to race just over half of the course, and while not completely broken, I had some concerns around residual impacts of continuing, and also the very real risk of having an accident thanks to clumsy feet and no light on the final section of the leg. Oh, and I would be remiss if I didn’t add that the BUGS WERE ABSOLUTELY INSANE on this leg!! Another person at the checkpoint basically quit because of the bugs alone!
And so it came to pass that I pulled the plug at CP4B in Leg 4, having covered just over 82kms in just under 15 hours. The 2 volunteer staff there were great, they were completely neutral when I said I was pulling out, stating it was definitely my decision, and they’d respect it. But at the same time, they actually offered me a headlamp if I wanted to continue. A little part of my brain immediately tried to speak up and say “Take it. Keep going. You’ll make it to TA4 and re-group”. Unfortunately, it was too late, the bigger, meaner part of my brain had already bullied me into submission. I should have listened to the littler part of my brain. That was the REAL me. The one that keeps going in spite of the odds. Had I done so, I would have learned that there were warm meatballs and soups awaiting me at the next transition, along with other clothes if I wanted, and my amazing headlamp to keep me going.
However, as I write this, we know hindsight is 20/20. I have to live with my decision. And unfortunately in this case, that’s what it was. My decision. I hadn’t been cut off. I hadn’t suffered some terrible accident or injury. I was just ‘off’. And that, friends, is humility. As I will always tell people, you learn as much from failures as you do successes, so I will spend the next year (or 2, or 3) learning my lessons and doing my homework until I return to Sinister 7 once again for a shot at my redemption!
Interestingly, yesterday, I read a very relevant article making the case for why quitting is sometimes the best decision. While a long read of itself, I highly recommend giving it a read. It’s an overall life lesson, not race-specific. Read it here. One line that struck me towards the end was:
“Use trying and quitting as a deliberate strategy to find out what is worth not quitting.” – Eric Barker
In some ways, I feel this very succinctly encapsulates the entire reason why I get into these situations and tackle things like overly ambitious long-distance races. I’m on an eternal quest to determine what is worth not quitting.
Right. Well, I’ve made you all stick with me long enough to share this tale, but it was one I have been re-hashing in my mind for the past two weeks and was anxious to share it with you all, so let’s wrap things up!
So, what did I do after dropping out? In a nutshell, waited around for a drive back to the finish. Upon arriving, I learned that all 3 of my buds had also dropped out. They were all sitting in lawn chairs near the finish, enjoying beers, and essentially just waiting to learn of my fate. They poked fun at me, I had a shower, ate an amazing burger from a food truck that had set up at the finish and stayed open ALL NIGHT, and dusted myself off. I tried to sleep, but couldn’t, so I hobbled back down to the finish line from 2-4am to cheer in finishers, then back there again from around 6:30am until the 1pm cutoff to cheer in the very last solo racer. It was a girl I’d ran with a fair bit in the middle of the race from Utah.
Her race? Well, she crossed the line at 30 hours and 4 minutes, so was officially a DNF (did not finish). No belt buckle, no wine, no official finish, even though she had persevered and completed the entire course. That’s the bitch of it all. If you don’t finish by the cutoff, you are not an official finisher! Just try to put yourself in her mind at that moment. Delirious, having given everything, only to be told you were 4 minutes late after 30 hours of racing 160 grueling kilometers in the mountains!
Needless to say, I congratulated her, gave her a hug, and turned away choking back my own tears for her predicament. Ultras are emotional beasts, and I guarantee they can put anyone in tears in the right circumstance.
For my part, I made the best of the rest of my vacation, enjoying a couple more days with my friends, including a remote night camping completely disconnected from the world, and a very memorable day / night in Calgary and at the Stampede. Mark my words people. I. WILL. BE. BACK. Till I am, sit back, and enjoy the video I made of my experiences! Next up, Squamish 50/50 in a few weeks, where I plan on at least earning myself a truckers’ hat. One DNF is enough in a season, right??