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| "Mnt Tecumseh and Seven Sisters Mnt. Only a mountain..." |
This has perhaps been the most difficult race report to write. A 100 mile race does not begin when the starting gun goes off. I had been training for seven months for this race, but even prior to that, I was planning with my coach to do this race. Perhaps I have been preparing for this race mentally for years, and I didn't even know it?? Physically, it has definitely taken me several years to build up the stamina for this race. I knew it would take some time to put all my thoughts into words and I still haven't fully comprehended the magnitude of completing the race.
How is it even possible to explain the feelings and emotions that I experienced during the nearly 30 hours I spent on the trail? How can I describe the mud on the trail that tried to suck the shoes off my feet with every step? Is it even possible to paint a verbal picture of the small group of runners as we clawed our way up to the pass of Seven Sisters?
On one side of the trail, a fellow soloist was leaning heavily on his poles as he tried to catch his breath. His black leggings were thickly caked in dried mud from falling numerous times on the slimy trail. At this point, he had run over 100 kilometers. Falling was inevitable. On the other side of the single track trail, just a little farther up the mountain, was a relay runner I knew very well. She looked like she was just staring intently into a bush, but this was the second time nausea had taken its toll on her body. The nutrients that were needed to fuel her body now had to be replenished so she could continue the race.
When I looked past the runners, I could see the alpine grasses fade into a rock slide. Still higher yet, the vertical rock walls of the seven columns that made up the summit of the mountain glowed red from the rays of the early morning sun. The birds were singing loudly. If I could just silence the pain that was clawing at every inch of my body...it seemed like this could be a very peaceful place.
There were still more than 25 kilometers to the finish line; but right now, the focus was on the nearly impossible trail ahead. These were the conditions I had been training for for nearly the past year. This is the challenge I had been looking for. This is what I wanted! I wanted to push myself to failure, but I was too stubborn to quit.
After successfully soloing the Canadian Death Race in 2018, I felt a weird disappointment when I crossed the finish line. I sat beside the propane campfire at the finish line and enjoyed a cold "finish line beer" from Folding Mountain brewing. But inside, I didn't feel successful. I thought I would feel like an "ultra runner" or an "elite athlete" but instead I still felt just like myself... I knew I needed to find another challenge. I wanted to push myself farther. I wanted to reach my failure point, then push beyond it.
A few weeks after finishing the Death Race I started looking for my “big race” for 2019. Their aren't too many races in western Canada that are more than 125 km long except for a few 100 mile races. Sinister 7 in Crowsnest Pass seemed like it may be just the challenge I was looking for. The 160 km course had a 30-hour time limit. The entire race is set in the Rocky Mnts and summits 4 mountain peaks with a total elevation gain of over 6,300 meters. While it was 40 km longer than the Death Race and has 1,300 meters more elevation than Death Race, Sinister seemed to be definitely harder than Death Race, but “somewhat comparable”.
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Leg 1 - Light Purple, Leg 2 - Dark Blue, Leg 3 - Yellow (CCW)
Leg 4 - Red, Leg 5 - Orange, Leg 6 - Light Blue (CCW), Leg 7 - Purple |
When registration opened for Sinister 7 on Dec 1 I had the moral support present to prevent me from backing out of my decision. Registration opened at noon, so our run group planned a registration lunch at a downtown restaurant. I managed to down a beer or two before noon, and when registration opened, I was ready and waiting. At exactly 12:00, I quickly entered my info into the Sinister Sports website, and hit "Register". I was committed!! There was no changing my mind now!! I had seven months to figure out how to run 100 miles....within 30 hours.
Was I really tough enough for this race, or had I just registered for my first DNF (Did Not Finish)??
If signing up for a 100 mile race wasn't crazy enough, I went full crazy and signed up for the Sinister Triple. The race series starts with the 160 km Sinister 7, then 4 weeks later the 125 km Canadian Death Race; followed by the 108 km Black Spur Ultra three weeks later. It really made sense to me. Once I was trained for 100 miles, I should be able to run 125 km four weeks later; and if I can do that, surely I can run 108 km in another 3 weeks... It was exactly the challenge I was looking for, but the first step was to figure out how to run 100 miles.
I'm not sure what was going through my coaches mind when I told her I had signed up for a 100 mile race. She had been coaching me since I started running three years earlier, so if anyone knew what I was capable of, she probably did.
A few weeks later, I received an email from her with my training plan. With anticipation, I opened the email to begin looking at my running plan. I was curious how many kilometers I would run before the start of the race and what my longest training run would be. To my dismay, the schedule was only for the first four weeks of training... This was my first lesson in how to run a 100 mile race: Don't look too far ahead. Just focus on what is right in front of me.
By looking only 4 weeks ahead, the training plan seemed quite manageable. I focused each week on running exactly what she had scheduled for me. The winter was unusually cold and it seemed to never stop snowing!! I learned to make friends with the bitter cold. Several runs were completed in sub 40 degree weather, but I learned to never stop pushing forward. It didn't matter if the snowy trails were packed down or not, if it was in my schedule to run, I dug a little deeper and kept going.
When spring finally arrived, it seemed to take forever for the snow to melt in the mountains. While I waited for the snow to clear, I had to resort to doing my hill runs in the river banks along the Wapiti River. I learned every foot of the trail at Magoos Landing. After creating a Strava segment for the loop, I now had a target time to beat. I challenged myself and my running friends to better my time. As soon as I was in second place, I was back out running the hill again and pushing myself just a little bit harder.
The hill was less than a kilometer from bottom to top, but it included nearly 100 meters of elevation gain. The incline was broken into 3 climbing sections that were too steep to run. After each climb, I would force myself to run the next 100 or so feet to the next steep section, while I slowed my breathing and my heart rate. My goal was to train my body to recover while I was running at an average pace. The training was not all fun and games.
In early June the snow finally melted enough that I could get some real training time in the mountains. There is no substitute for that type of training. June 11was one of my longest runs. 65 kilometers on leg 1, 2 and 3 of the Canadian Death Race course. With just over 2,000 meters of elevation gain, it was a good work out for me and a welcomed change from running laps at Magoos. The following weekend was a 60 kilometer run with over 2,700 meters of vertical gain on leg 4 of the Death Race course. I ran the leg backward (minus Ambler Loop) to the 3/4 transition, then turned around and ran it again the race direction. Not only was it a very physically demanding run, but it was also challenged me mentally. For some reason, when passing the place where I had the
bear encounter in 2018 I became very emotional once again. Both times, I had to force myself to keep running past the spot on the trail where it happened.
This was my final test, physically and mentally and I felt like I had passed the test. Now it was time to taper. Time to get prepared for race day and be confident that I was physically and mentally ready to run 100 miles. I did manage to sneak in a couple shorter mountain runs during the taper, but they were less than 20 kilometer runs and I could tell I was well-conditioned. My legs felt physically strong! On short uphill sections of the trail, I would push myself to maintain a running pace, just to feel the strength and stamina in my legs. On the downhill sections, I would let my legs and hips get loose, and let gravity pull me down the trail. (If I had hair, it would have been blowing in the wind for sure!!) These runs proved to me that I was ready. My body was strong. I had no injuries. I simply felt good!!
In the final week before race day, I started to get my gear sorted out and ready for the race. I had
made some minor gear changes since running the Death Race in 2018. Rather than recharging my headlamps on the run, I bought replacement batteries that we could change at a transition. I had also purchased a new watch that had a longer battery life so I wouldn't require a recharge halfway through the run.
I had already analyzed the racecourse and compared the running times from other runners for each leg. By doing this, I was able to set target times for each leg of the race and run each leg separately. This allowed me to check my progress by looking at my time for the leg, rather than just look at my total time for the whole race.
Wednesday night before the race, I double-checked all my gear and packed it into the holiday trailer. Mid-afternoon on Thursday, Cheri and I were on the road to Coleman. Once again, I was strategizing. I planned to drive until 9 or 10 PM then set up the trailer in a parking lot for the night. I wanted to be tired enough that I could just climb into bed and go to sleep. I have heard that two nights before race day is more important to have a good sleep than the night right before the race.
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| "Wine time..." |
My plan worked, we pulled into the Costco Parking lot in Red Deer about 9:30. After setting up the trailer, Cheri and I enjoyed a glass of wine then went to bed. Sleep came quickly, and I woke up about after 8 AM, feeling very refreshed. A quick stop at Tim Horton's for a coffee and breakfast for the road, and we were on the road again. Destination... Crowsnest Pass!!
What should have been a 4-hour drive, soon stretched into 5 hours. Just out of Coleman, a vehicle pulled up beside us and motioned that we had a flat tire on the holiday trailer. I must admit, I wasn't surprised, but I was hoping the tires would hold out until we got home. Once I found an adequate place to stop on the side of the road, the race was on....!! How fast can I change a tire?? I just wanted to get to Coleman, but now I had to change a flat tire. The tire changing process was more of a sprint than an ultra, and within 30 minutes we were again headed west to Coleman.
We easily found the bed and breakfast that would be our "base camp" for our run group from Grande Prairie. There were several other holiday trailers, a motor home, and a couple tents. Plus the house was full too. I'm not sure if it was the mountain air or just the excitement of everyone from our run group getting together again, but there was an energy in the air that was almost tangible.
After quickly setting up the trailer, Cheri and I headed to the Coleman Rec Center for the pre-race dinner and the race meeting. There were so many familiar faces in the crowd. Some runners, I had only met through Facebook and finally got to meet in person.
It was strange having conversations with some of the runners. The typical conversations discussed strategy for the race the following day and compared notes on how training had gone. When the topic of "solo" or "relay" runner came up, it felt odd saying that I was a "soloist".
When I compared myself to others around me, I didn't feel good enough to be a "soloist". I almost felt unprepared; like I had over-committed myself.
Maybe I really was in this way too deep? Did I really know what I was getting myself into?
There were a lot of runners that seemed to be much more "athletic" than me, and some of them even sported EPIC trail runner beards which I was severely lacking!! Suddenly, I realized that this race was not about them. It was about me! I wasn't trying to beat anyone else to the finish line. I just wanted to get myself to the finish line. Once I got control of my thoughts, I looked inside and compared myself to where I had been six months ago, to where I was right now. Yes, my body felt good. I didn't have any aches or pains. Nothing was nagging me. Mentally, I was stronger than I had ever been. I was focused and determined to cross the finish line in less than 30 hours. I just didn't quite know how it was all going to play out over the next two days.
The race meeting was typical of any race meeting for an ultra marathon. Don't get lost. Try to stay out of the mud. And most importantly, don't get eaten by a bear!! I didn't need any reminders of that. I had processed that one numerous times. I'm pretty sure if I did see a bear on the trail, by the time I was done telling him what was on my mind, HE would be the one playing dead while I continued with the race.
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| "The Grande Prairie runners" |
After the race meeting, we took a group picture of all the runners from our Grande Prairie run group. With over 20 runners, it was anything but a quick process; but it gave me time to reflect on all the amazing athletes that had helped me so much. I could look at nearly every person in our group and think back to at least one thing they had taught me in the past.
I really was here because of them. They had helped me prepare for this race. If I succeeded tomorrow, it was because of what all these people had taught me...
When we headed back the holiday trailer, my mind once again started to buzz. Before I even got in the trailer, I began mentally going over the list for each transition.
Did we remember everything in each bag?? Did Cheri know what I needed at each transition?? Was anything missing from the lists??
I think Cheri could sense my stress levels starting to rise. After a quick review of the transition bags, she reassured me that we had everything ready and that she knew what had to be done tomorrow. She was ready, I just needed to do my part and run.
Death Race 2018, was the first time I had a crew for a long race (well, that was actually my first long race). It was also Cheri's first crewing experience. Neither one of us really knew what her job was all about. I knew how to run for a pretty long time. I knew that I would need water and food and dry clothes periodically, and I knew that at some point there was a pretty good chance I would "loop out"; but I didn't know how to prepare her for that. I'm not sure there is any way you can train for that part. I just had to trust that she would take care of me.
Tomorrow's race was no different. It was only 35 kilometers longer than Death Race, and I had another 6 hours to go the extra distance. But what worried me was the fact that I may be running for 30 hours...I had heard stories of runners that are far more experienced than I am, just lay down on the side of the trail and sleep... Some even hallucinated and saw strange things in the woods...
How do you prepare yourself for that?
My first change of clothes was all laid out on the table. My bib was pinned onto my running shorts and my timing chip was taped to my pack. My watch was charged. The first transition bag was ready to go...
what else needed to be done??
"Phil, just GO TO BED!!" My crew chief was already in the zone. Cheri was right, everything was ready. There was nothing left to do but go to bed, relax and try to get some sleep. Any sleep tonight was a bonus. I had slept nearly 10 hours the night before in Red Deer so I wasn't too stressed out about tonights' sleep.
When my alarm when off at 5AM, I had slept for about 4 hours. Oddly, I felt refreshed and energized. It was race day!! Everything was ready from the night before, so it didn't take me long to get dressed. Then I sat down for my usual pre-race breakfast: two packages of instant oatmeal (Peaches and Cream flavor) and a banana. The last thing to do was to apply copious amounts of vaseline to my feet and other areas that were susceptible to chafing.
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| "Vaseline to prevent chafing" |
We were warned at the pre-race meeting that the trail was very wet and muddy. I knew foot care was going to be key in order to finish the race. Cheri helped me slide my knee-high compression socks over my vaseline coated feet. This task takes skill and training to complete efficiently. If not done correctly, all the vaseline on my feet gets smeared up my leg when I pull on my socks. It was a struggle, but together we managed to get them on.
After double-checking my gear and the lists, we headed out the door and drove the 20 minutes to the start line on the main street in Blairmore. We arrived quite early (Just how I like to be) and found a parking spot close to the start line. There is no point in walking any farther than necessary!! Nearly to the start line, I realized I forgot my sunglasses. I jogged the half-block back to the truck and found them on the center console, just where I had left them. As I power walked back to catch up to Cheri, I went over all my gear one last time, to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything else: watch, SPOT tracker, salt tablets, bib....all the necessities. It seemed like I had everything now.
The Start
The chilly morning sky was scattered with low fluffy clouds and fog patches. It almost felt like fall weather. The light rain the night before left the ground damp and the air was cool and humid. It was perfect weather for running. After a few pictures at the start line, there was nothing left to do but wait for the starting gun to sound.
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| "The three soloists from Grande Prairie" |
The race director started to give a count down update: "Ten minutes to start time. Runners, 10 minutes to start time".
Where is the best place to stand for the start of the race?? This is always the first strategy of a race for me.
If I am too far ahead, I would get caught up in the speedy pace of the elite runners and go out too fast. If I am too far back, I will have to pass a bunch of slow runners...I need to find just the right spot...
"Runners, 5 minutes to race time!! Five minutes...." Now my nerves kicked into gear and my heart started to pound in my chest.
Let's just go, already!! The rest of the runners from the run group were all there to send us off. It was time for final pictures, hugs, high fives and final words of encouragement. Brian, the race director, gave us the 30-second warning. I gave Cheri a final hug. It was longer than the others and I momentarily relaxed. "Three, two, one!!" The starting gun sounded... I gave her a quick kiss and noticed tears streaming down her cheeks... There was no time for words of consolation or second thoughts, the crowd of people that surrounded us, slowly started to surge forward. There was nothing I could say...I waved "goodbye" and joined the crowd of runners. Only 100 miles left to run....this was really happening!!
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| "We are OFF...!!" |
Leg 1:
Distance: 18.3 Km
Elevation Gain: 535 m
Target Time on Leg: 2 Hrs 10 Min
The first kilometer or so was on the paved main street. Then we went into the ditch on the right side of the road and followed a quad trail. There were a hundred or so people in front of me, so all the rainwater and dew had already been knocked off the grass and bushes along the track. All I had to do was dodge the odd mud puddle and stay out of the tall grass.
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| "Running through Frank's Slide" |
The first couple kilometers of a race are always the worst for me. I had to focus on going slow, but there were still so many people around, I just wanted to pass everyone that I got stuck behind. For several kilometers, we ran along the ditch, parallel to the train tracks, then onto a gravel road through Franks Slide. At the top of the first hill, there was a man with a fiddle, sitting in a chair playing amazing Bluegrass tunes! That made me smile. I love that kind of music. Finally, we turned right onto a paved road again and started a slight climb through a residential area. By now, the runners were starting to thin out a bit and I had more room to run. A couple more blocks of paved road and we were funneled onto a quad track and started a steep climb into the bush.
The loose gravel track slowed everyone down to a power walk.
This was it. This really was the race. It was really happening!! I found a comfortable pace and stuck to it. The trail was wide enough I could pass other runners with ease if I needed to, but I didn't feel like I was holding anyone up either.
As the trail wound its way up the side hill, the loose gravel turned to mud. It wasn't normal mud. It was slimy mud and in some places, it was nearly six inches deep. I knew from training runs, that my shoe of choice had poor traction in the mud, but it was the only good style of summer shoes I had and since I brought along three pairs for race day, I figured I might as well just get used to it. I could feel the mud grabbing onto the heels of my shoes with every step.
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| "There was no shortage of mud...." |
The hills got steeper and soon it was difficult to keep going forward without slipping backward with each step. I started to run in the tall grass beside the quad trail, just to get out of the mud and prevent my feet from getting soaking wet so early in the day. But that caused another problem; the flowers and seeds from the bushes found their way into my shoes and burrowed deep into my socks. There seemed to be no good option so I settled for running in the mud and just tried to step in other shoe prints.
I was nearly 10 kilometers into the race. I hadn't seen any other runners that I knew from Grande Prairie. Daryl and Michal (soloists from our run group) were in the race somewhere, but I hadn't seen them since before the start. I didn't know if they were ahead or behind me. They were both faster runners than me, so I assumed they were up ahead. Soon Conway passed me. I didn't know him well, but we had run together once before on a training run in Grande Cache. He was wearing the same shoes I was and we shared a moment of frustration for their poor performance in the mud.
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| "Muddy quad track through the logging block" |
The trail continued on through clear cuts, then went back into the bush. The quad trail narrowed down to a single track. All the runners were forced to run on the same area of the trail. The exposed roots that crisscrossed the trail seemed like an excellent place to step, but they were very wet and covered in a thin layer of mud. A great way to slip, and pull a body part that isn't meant to be pulled!!
My worst fear was getting a preventable injury this early in the race. A twisted ankle or a pulled muscle is all it would take to slow me down enough to not make the cut off at the end of a leg. While trying to maintain a good pace, I chose each foot placement cautiously.
The final kilometers of the leg were downhill into the transition area. I was able to make up a bit of time, but I still took me 2 hrs 15 minutes to finish the leg. Five minutes longer than my target time. The transition area had limited parking so they recommended that crew members not come to it. Since it was very early in the race, Cheri didn't really need to be there anyway. I didn't need much done. My coach Krista who was running leg 1 on a relay team had arrived nearly 20 minutes before me. She checked in on me to make sure I was ok, then went to look for her other runners.
At the race meeting the night before, I left a drop bag that the race volunteers brought to the transition so I could access it. I had a dry shirt (short sleeve and long sleeve) if needed as well as a couple options for hats if the weather had changed. Most importantly, was my poles. Leg 2 started with a big climb and I wanted to be able to give my legs all the help I could. While I drank a Boost shake, I filled up my water bladder and the 500 ml soft flask of electrolytes. Then grabbed a few snacks from my drop bag and headed out on the trail.
Leg 2
Distance: 16.7 Km
Elevation Gain: 772 m
Target Time on Leg: 2 Hrs 15 Min
Right out of the transition, the trail starts up the hill. The single track wound its way through a grassy field that was painted with wildflowers. Far up the hill, I could see Daryl wearing his familiar straw cowboy hat. Somehow, I had managed to stay ahead of him for all of leg 1
. Had I been pushing myself too hard on the first leg of the race?? What a rookie mistake... Even with the extra push, I was still 5 minutes behind my schedule. I couldn't afford to slow down at all.
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| "Starting up Leg 2" |
Leg 2 seemed like a blur and somewhat uneventful. After the first big climb, we broke into an old logging block. The trail wound its way around the south end of the Hastings Ridge, then headed north. In the valley below, Blairmore and Coleman lay hidden under a thick layer of morning fog. Farther to the north, Mount Tecumseh and the Seven Sisters stood tall above the clouds. Even though they were nearly 20 kilometers across the valley, the grey treeless face of the mountains seemed harsh and emotionless. Leg 6 of the race circled both peaks counter-clockwise. In roughly 20 hours, I would be running that portion of the race in the early morning darkness.
It was the first time I noticed that I had cell signal so I did a
Facebook Live video to update Cheri and the crew on my progress. The interaction snapped me back into the reality of what was actually going on around me and I momentarily forgot about the other 140 kilometers I had to run. The mountains in the distance really were beautiful, as long as I didn't think about having to run around them. The sunshine began to warm me up and dried the sweat off my shirt.
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| "Looking north on Leg 2 from the first summit" |
After finishing the video, the trail started downhill on a rocky quad trail. It was a perfect opportunity to make up some time lost on the muddy trail. So I ran. Each step placement had to be planned. The jagged rocks on the trail were loose and the perfect opportunity to roll an ankle or stub a toe. This was the first long section of downhill so far in the race. My feet had been wet for nearly 3 hours, and I could already feel hot spots forming on the bottom of my feet.
This was not how I wanted my day to start. There was a long way yet to go. At the pre-race meeting, we had been told to expect wet trail conditions for the duration of the race. This meant that my feet would probably not dry out, and the hot spots would soon turn to blisters.
The trail twisted its way through an old logging block that had been replanted. The new growth was roughly head high, so there was no protection from the wind and sun. I mentally blocked out the view and surrounding scenery and focused 100% on the trail as I continued running down the mountain.
The quad trail narrowed to a single track once again. It became more sheltered as it entered the thick timber of the valley bottom. The mossy trail felt soft under my sore feet. It was a welcome change. For the moment, I forgot about the hotspots on my feet and enjoyed the coolness of the shade.
The trail crossed a small creek that had cut its way through the moss and cascaded over its jagged rocky bed. I stopped momentarily and rinsed my hands in the mountain water. It was so cold, it almost numbed my fingers. I took off my hat and splashed water onto my face, head, and arms. Then I dropped onto my stomach and drank straight from the cold flowing creek. I felt refreshed inside and out! I quickly grabbed my hat and running poles and continued down the trail. Running faster now.
A few kilometers down the trail, there were several spectators waiting at the top of a small hill. This usually meant that the end of the leg was getting close. Sure enough, they told me that the transition was less than a kilometer ahead.
I began to think of the transition and what I needed for leg 3. It was shortly after noon and the day was shaping up to be warm. I was now almost 45 minutes behind my schedule. I only had 7 minutes planned for this transition, but I knew I had to stay focused and get back on the trail as soon as possible.
I came down the final hill and into the schoolyard where the transition area was set up. The energy levels were high!! This area was the transition for the end of Leg 2 and Leg 3, so many runners were coming into the transition area and leaving at the same time I was. I quickly checked into the timer's tent and gave them my bib number. Then Cheri grabbed me by the arm and guided me to our tent that was nearby.
Someone helped me take off my pack, then I sat down in a chair. I had been running for 5 hours and this was the first time I had sat down. I started to drink a Boost while someone helped me change into a dry shirt. Other people from the team refilled my pack with food, filled up my water bladder and topped up my electrolyte flask. It seemed like I had just sat down, but soon Cheri was motioning me to stand up and get going. I mentioned to the crew that I was nearly an hour behind, and I promised to make up time on leg 3. Krista informed me that I was doing very well and still had plenty of time to finish within the cutoff.
I gave Cheri a kiss, then grabbed a slice of watermelon which I hurriedly ate as I left the transition area and started up the hill onto Leg 3.
I knew I was behind schedule. But I had an awesome team, and I knew that they wouldn't agree with my negative thoughts - they were "supposed" to tell me I was doing well and that I would make it to the finish line in time... It was all up to me. I just had to keep moving.
Leg 3:
Distance: 31 Km
Elevation: 1,357 m
Target Time on Leg: 4 Hrs 50 Min
Leg 3 was a beast and I knew that ahead of time! Mentally, I had also made it a beast. Many people say it is one of the harder legs of the race. It has lots of elevation gain with 4 major climbs. The majority of the leg is through an old burn and the trail is very exposed. It didn't help that I was starting the leg at the hottest part of the day.
Leaving the transition area, the trail immediately climbs nearly 4 kilometers to the top of the first summit. It wound its way through the spruce trees and up the ski hill. At the top, it veers to the right and starts the first section of downhill. Just before the descent, I noticed marker signs and a fork in the trail that I would be coming out from when I finished the counter-clockwise loop.
I made a mental note to myself, that when I got back onto this trail, it would be all downhill to the end of the leg. The descent was a welcome break to my tired legs so I ran as much as I could to make up the hour that was missing from my schedule. The downhill section was short-lived though and I started up hill once again.
I had now run a marathon distance for the day, and the trail started up again. I was not familiar with the course, so I had no way of knowing how long the hill was. The trail was too steep for me to run, so I power hiked as fast as I could. I just had to keep moving in order to make up time.
Six kilometers later, I finally reached the second summit. There was hardly a cloud in the sky and very little wind. It seemed the only time I could feel any wind was from my own forward movement when I ran. I needed to keep running!! I had to make up time. Soon, I started up the third summit of the leg. My pace slowed to a walk, and I knew I was losing time again.
I began to think of what I would write in my blog when I got home.
This wasn't the way I expected the race to end. I assumed that as long as I was physically able to run, I would be able to finish the race in time. Now it looked like it would be impossible to finish before the 30-hour cutoff. I convinced myself that somehow, I could find success in the failure of this race -
I would succeed at getting my first DNF. Then I realized that the only way it would be possible for me to fail is if I had a goal for myself. Without a goal, it would be impossible for me to fail... That was the whole reason for running this race after I completed the 125 km Death Race. I wanted to push myself PAST the point of failure. In order to succeed, I had to set myself up for failure; then push harder and turn that imminent failure into a success!!
I convinced myself that I was not going to quit. As long as I could leave a transition area before the cut-off, I would keep going. If I ran out of time on a leg, I was fine with that. They could come and pick me up with a quad then give me a ride back if they wanted to. I was going to keep moving!!
The relentless heat and intense sun sapped away my appetite. I tried to force myself to eat a double stuffed white Oreo, but I just couldn't do it. I was so thirsty, I just wanted to drink. At every creek that crossed the trail that was cold and flowing, I would stop, drink quickly, then wash the dried salt and sweat from my face and arms before continuing on. Most of the trail followed an old logging road. The dirt surface of the road seemed hot and prevented my feet from cooling down, but it was still scattered with mud puddles.
The hot spots on my feet seemed to intensify. Going downhill became painful. With every step, the impact seemed to ignite a fire in my shoes and send pain shooting through my feet. Finally, I came to another creek. It was ice cold! I stood in the nearly knee-deep water for a minute or two, while I tried to eat some dates from my pack. I could feel the water flowing through my shoes. It felt amazing!
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| "Cooling off my feet" |
Once again refreshed, I started up what would be the last big climb of the leg. At what I thought was the top of the hill was an aid station. I didn't even go to the tent to see what food they had. I still wasn't hungry. By my schedule, I should be finishing the leg already, but the sign on the tent said I still had over 7 kilometers to go!
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| "The aid station at what I thought was the top of the hill" |
The road leveled out for a bit. This was my opportunity, I needed to run! The fine gravel on the road seemed to drill through my shoes and into the tender spots on the bottom of my feet. I focused on just the next 5 ft in front of me. I carefully planned each foot placement. I tried to find a sandy spot on the road with fewer rocks, where I could step with less pain. This seemed to pass the time, but the pain never really left.
Finally, I crested the top of the hill and signs directed me off the road onto a quad trail. Once again, I used the downhill section to make up time, but the pain intensified in one foot. Finally, I caught up to a friend of mine from Calgary. I had run with Tyra several times while training, so we visited while we ran. A typical conversation on the trail is about how you are feeling at the moment. I admitted that one foot was giving me some issues and it was intent on forming a blister early in the race.
She offered some of her Penaten cream which she said would help with the blisters. I was willing to try anything so I quickly sat on a stump, took off my shoe, and rubbed the cream through my sock. (I wasn't about to take my sock off. I was afraid of what I might see.) Continuing down the trail, the cream seemed to make my foot feel a bit better.
It was only another 5 km or so before I came back onto the two direction trail that I had run on the way out. I hadn't seen any other runners in quite some time, and I began to second guess myself.
Was I actually on the right trail?? Was I supposed to be following this trail all the way back, or did I just assume that this is where the trail went?? I kept watching for any markers or signs that would confirm that I was going in the right direction. Sure there were trail marker flags. But those were to mark the trail on the way out.
It was mostly downhill, so I picked up my pace. If I was headed in the wrong direction, I wanted to get there as fast as I could. Soon I could see another runner up ahead. She was running in the same direction as me. This gave me some comfort and I tried to relax a bit and be confident that I was on the correct trail.
It wasn't long before I could hear the cheering from the transition area. I knew I was close, so I pushed a little harder. When I came into the clearing, I asked a course marshall which way to go. She directed me downhill rather than asking me for my race bib and timing chip so I assumed I had come in on the correct trail. I started a
Facebook Live video to capture all the activity of the transition.
The transition was a whirlwind of activity. I had allocated 7 minutes for this transition and there was lots to get done. It was 5:30 PM. I had been running for over 10 hours total and it was over 5 hours since I was last in transition and had a chance to sit down. Once again, I was concerned that I was still over an hour and a half behind my schedule, but everyone assured me that I was doing fine for time.
The heat and wind from leg 3, left me exhausted. Hans put ice packs on my shoulders and head. I took my shoes off and put my feet on ice packs. It felt like heaven!! I drank some coke and ate more watermelon and chicken soup. I drank my Boost and tried to choke down some boiled potatoes, then put on a dry pair of shoes.
All too soon, the heavenly feeling ended. McKenna was holding the phone with a timer and the alarm went off. "Time is up!!" Cheri ordered, "LET'S GO!!!" I hesitated momentarily, trying to find strength in my legs to stand up. Slowly, I stood up and tried to get my legs under me again.
I tried to refocus on what else needed to be done. Cheri insisted that there was nothing else to do. She sprayed my arms and legs with bug dope and gave me a kiss. I left the tent and ran out of the chute while trying to stuff as much watermelon in my face as I could before I started up the hill and onto leg 4.
Leg 4:
Distance: 24 Km
Elevation Gain: 974 m
Target Time on Leg: 4 Hrs 5 Min
I had mentally broken the race into several sections. The first section included Legs 1, 2, and 3. I had heard lots about Leg 3 and had great respect for how hard it was. The second section was Leg 4. I had run in a relay team in 2018. I was familiar with the trail and it would be a mental break for me. The last section; Legs 5, 6, and 7, I planned to take one leg at a time and see what happened.
Now that the first section was behind me, I relaxed a bit. The next 24 kilometers were familiar trail and I could just enjoy the run. The trail started back up the ski hill, but not nearly as steep as leg 3 had been. The single-track trail went through multiple switchbacks in the tall spruce trees along the north-facing slope of the river valley. The shade from their bows blocked the sun and prevented any underbrush from growing along the trail. As the switchbacks continued up the hill, I could see other runners ahead of me. I settled into a fast power hike and soon found the pace I could maintain for the duration of the climb.
Several kilometers later, the trail broke into an old logging block and the trail got steeper. I could see a familiar runner near the top of the hill. I pushed hard and soon caught up to one of the relay runners from Grande Prairie who was running Leg 4. I ran with her for a bit, then broke ahead when the trail joined up with an old logging road. I ran to the bottom of the hill and stopped at the creek. I dropped to my hands and drank straight from the flowing water. The mountain water was cold and refreshing. I washed my arms, then continued on.
The trail climbed again for a few kilometers then dropped down into a small valley where there was an aid station. I was feeling good, so I didn't bother to stop. As I passed by the tent, I noticed a runner sitting in a chair, wrapped in a space blanket trying to stay warm. It was a grim reminder that the race was starting to take its toll on the runners.
After the aid station, the trail left the gravel road and went onto a quad trail. The track wound its way up the hillside through an old logging block. A light rain started to fall. It was early evening and the temperature was starting to drop as well. It was sunny when I left the transition, and I knew this summit wasn't very high, so rather than packing my windbreaker I just packed a long sleeve shirt. Soon the light rain turned into a heavy down-pour, then into hail. I was regretting my decision to leave my windbreaker behind.
The pea-sized balls of ice stung as they bounced off my head and bear arms. I thought about stopping to put my warmer shirt, but I knew I would freeze in the process, and the shirt would get wet instantly so it wouldn't really provide me with much extra warmth. I decided to pick up my pace and make my body work up more heat.
The trail was now a single track, cut into the side of the hill. It snaked in and out of logging blocks and through tall stands of timber that the loggers had left to provide cover for animals and perhaps ill-prepared runners like myself. I made good time running along the narrow trail and soon outlasted the storm. But when the rain stopped, the wind picked up. I finally found a thick enough stand of timber that did actually provide a bit of shelter. I took the opportunity to change out of my soaking wet tee shirt and into a dry long sleeve shirt.
As I neared the summit of Saddle Mountain, I caught up to Debbie. We passed the time by making a
Facebook Video as we ran along the rocky summit. When the trail started down from the summit, I slowly pulled ahead of her. Running downhill was where I could really make up time. As hard as it is to leave a fellow runner, I knew I had to take the opportunity to make up some time. I soon caught up with Dawn who I had met on the trail a couple times earlier in the day.
We finished the last kilometer or so to the aid station together. The aid station tent was set up on the far side of the creek. A narrow plank bridge provided a dry crossing of the creek. Unlike last year, when I had to run through the knee-deep frigid water. I did take the time to stop and refill my pack from the creek. I drank as much as I dared without giving myself a bellyache, then perused the buffet of snacks at the aid station tent. I grabbed a box of smarties then continued down the trail with Dawn.
The next few kilometers were through thick pine trees and dense underbrush. As the sun started to settle into the mountains far up the valley, the mosquitos took the opportunity to come out for a snack. It was great motivation for us to keep moving! The trail was relatively flat and soon broke out of the trees. We crossed a slippery cattle guard and started down an old dirt road.
A short distance ahead, we could see Daryl for the first time since he passed me on the start of Leg 2. Dawn and I pushed hard and soon caught up to him. We ran side by side down the muddy road. On our right was a barbed wire fence and on the brushy hillside to our left were random cows grazing in the tall grass and willows. I'm sure the farmer had no ill-intentions when he put his herd of black cows in the pasture next to the racecourse. But in the early evening dusk, I have never seen so many "potential bears" in my life...
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| "Good friends on the trail always make the run happier!!" |
The dirt road seemed to go on forever. It was scattered with frequent mud holes that were surrounded by slippery mud. In between the mud holes where many cowpies that I did my best to avoid. I don't really know why. At this point, the cow pies probably smelled no worse than I did!! The three of us stayed together to provide moral support. Dusk was settling in fast but the next transition was less than 5 km ahead. We agreed to run the flat and downhill portions and power walk the uphill sections.
We were back in cell service so I made another
Facebook video so Cheri and the crew would know I was getting close to the end of the leg. Running the last kilometer down the hill into the transition, it was dark. I had a headlamp in my pack, but I didn't want to take the time to stop and dig it out. I ran by feel and did my best to avoid the roots and stumps that hid in the shadows of the tall grass.
This aid station was the most confusing of all. Partly because it was dark, but also because I was starting to get mental fatigue and lights from the tents made it hard to focus on what was going on. I ran through the chute, across the timing mat, and finally found Cheri. She guided me a short distance down to the road where they had chairs set up around a propane fire and had lanterns sitting on the ground for light. It was a somber little group; huddled around the fire trying to stay warm. There were several other runners from our group sitting in the transition as well. One of them slowly got up from his chair, walked over to the tall grass, bent over and puked. The endless hours of physical exertion were beginning to take their toll on even the strongest athletes.
I had now been running for a total of 15.5 hours and covered 90 kilometers. I was 2 hours behind my schedule so there was no time to waste!! The heat from the fire was amazing and helped to improve my spirits. I had allocated 7 minutes for this transition so I tried to focus on what I wanted to get done. I drank some warm chicken broth and ate some rice while I stared into the fire. Cheri refilled my pack with food and warm clothes. Someone helped me put on a dry shirt, then tested my headlamps and gave them to me. One I slipped over my arms and torso and positioned around my waist. The other, I wore on my hat as a regular headlamp. This provided a second angle of light and help reduce shadows on the trail.
The timer went off and it was time to leave the comfort of the transition once again. Cheri helped me to my feet; gave me a kiss and a warm hug, then guided me back through the transition area and released me into the darkness.
Leg 5:
Distance: 27 Km
Elevation Gain: 962 m
Target Time on Leg: 5 Hrs 10 Min
The trail followed along the ditch of the highway then onto a gravel side road for several kilometers. I was running with a friend of mine and we were both struggling to find our pace after the transition. We started counting power poles on the side of the road. We would run two of them, then walk one. Run two, walk one. It helped us get going and soon we crossed the highway and were back in the ditch for another kilometer or so. There seemed to be more runners along this leg and every vehicle that passed in the darkness on the highway would honk at us and people would yell encouragement to us.
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| "Starting out on Leg 5 with Dawn." |
Soon we turned off the highway and ran along the ditch of a gravel road. The next few kilometers were a steady incline and too steep to run. I tried to keep up a fast power hike, but my friend I was running with was having a hard time maintaining pace on the uphill sections. I slowed my pace so she would not get left alone in the dark. Then a war started in my mind:
I wanted to push on ahead, but I didn't want to leave her alone in the darkness. I was still nearly 2 hours behind schedule. I needed to make up time where ever I could. This is one of the toughest mental battles I encounter at nearly every race. It is a solo event, but when a runner is struggling, I don't want to leave them alone...but I want to keep pushing myself at my own pace.
It wasn't long before several other runners caught up to us. I kept stride with the faster runner, and we soon pulled ahead of the small group. He was a relay runner doing legs 4 and 5. Needless to say, his legs were noticeably more fresh than mine and I had to push hard to keep up to him.
When we came to the next aid station, he stopped for food and I kept on running. Coincidentally, I left the aid station area with a different runner. To my surprise, we were both the same pace!! We began the usual trail chatter in the darkness. I learned that Jordan was from Grande Cache and was also completing his first solo 100 mile race.
The quad trail we were following wound its way along the east base of Mnt Tecumseh. The trail was now mostly flat and mostly mud. The mud holes went the whole way across the trail. In the darkness, it became a guessing game to determine which side of the mudhole had the better trail. The brush along the trail had been broken off by earlier runners and the broken off branches grabbed and my clothes and scratched my legs when we tried to skirt around the deep puddles.
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| "The mud and darkness on Leg 5 seemed to never end!!" |
Occasionally, someone would catch up to us. As we were trying to go around the puddle, they would splash right through the knee-deep water and mud.
They must be relay runners, I thought to myself
I sure don't want to get my feet any wetter than they already are!!
Jordan and I began to discuss our running time and the probability of finishing the race before the 30 hour cutoff at 1PM. We needed at least 2 hours to complete the last leg which meant we had to start leg 7 by 11AM. (Previously, I had given myself 2:20 minutes to complete that leg.) Leg 6 was over 30 kilometers and we estimated it would take us 7 hours for that leg, which meant we needed to finish this leg and start leg 6 by 4AM. We determined that was the ABSOLUTE latest time we could start those legs and still finish the race within the time limit.
It was roughly 1AM. We didn't really know exactly where we were on leg 5, but we had been told that from the next aid station to the end of the leg, we had 7.5 km to transition. (That 7.5 km section of trail is also shared by the end of Leg 6). We pushed ourselves a bit harder and talked less. I was fighting nausea and in the silence, it was hard to not think about my stomach. I was stuck with just the thoughts in my head. I tried to not focus on my stomach but on my pace and where we were on the leg.
It seemed like we could still finish in time if we could just get to the last aid station!
Soon we could hear music in the distance; then see lights. We picked up our pace a bit more. The aid station was lit up light a disco bar!! Through the trees, we could see flashing green, red, yellow and blue lights and feel the energy. When we finally rounded the last corner in the road and came to the aid station, we realized it was in fact, a full-on disco party...but not the kind of party I was looking for right now. The pounding music and flashing lights did not help my nausea! I briefly sat in a chair and dug a ginger chew out of my pack that Christine had given me at the last transition.
I didn't waste any time there. As soon as I could, I was back on the trail. Jordan was with me again. The volunteers confirmed it was only 7.5 km to the end of the leg and it was "mostly runnable". They also said there was cell service at the top of the next hill. In the darkness, the trail seemed to be mostly flat with just the odd little ravine for a creek crossing. The trail was along a road/quad trail that looked like it was following an old pipeline. The dirt portion of the trail was very wide, and strewn with large mud holes. The area between the puddles was also mud, so there was really no way to escape the slippery mess.
We left the aid station at 2AM so we began to check our time calculations again. After running for over 100 kilometers, there is no such thing as "simple math". Luckily, we had nothing better to do to pass the time, so we confirmed our numbers. If we could maintain a 12 minute pace, that would put us into the next transition at 3:20 AM, well ahead of our last chance time of 4AM. When we found cell service, I text Cheri and told her to expect me between 3:15 and 3:30.
Jordan and I kept a close eye on our pace. When it was flat or downhill, we hit our 12 minute pace, then pushed a bit harder and tried to maintain a 10 minute pace. The final kilometers never seemed to end!! We took turns encouraging each other and monitoring the pace. A 10-minute pace is a very slow run, but in our fatigued state it was as fast as we could go, and the muddy trail didn't help at all.
Finally, we could hear the noise coming from the transition. The trail veered to the left, off the pipeline and down a steep hill into transition. It was 3:18AM!! We had made up 30 minutes and I was now only 1.5 hours behind my schedule. This would set me up to finish right at the 30 hour cutoff. That was still too close, I had to make up more time.
I don't remember much of this transition. There seemed to be a lot of people puking around me. It was now almost a normal occurrence to see along the trail. I drank my boost and ate some more chicken and rice while Cheri and the crew replaced the batteries in both my lamps and refilled my food and water. Soon my 10 minutes were up and it was time to hit the trail again. My legs were stiff and didn't want to start moving. The first few steps were staggering, then gradually came with less effort. I met Jordan at the end of the transition area and we started up the road, back into the darkness of leg 6.
Leg 6:
Distance: 32 Km
Elevation Gain: 2,292 m
Target Time on Leg: 7 Hrs 5 Min
I had been told that Leg 6 is the hardest of all seven legs in the race and I was mentally preparing myself for the fight. From studying the elevation maps, I knew that the big climb started right out of the transition, and I was ready for it!
The narrow gravel road was on a steady uphill grade. It was just a bit too steep to run with tired legs, but we did our best and ran as much as we could. We kept monitoring our pace and tried to never go slower than a 10-minute pace. Sometimes we were able to hit an 8-minute pace and we maintained that as often as we could. The gravel road seemed to last forever. Jordan and I began to think that maybe this was as steep as the grade got.
Maybe it was just switchbacks up the mountain for 10 kilometers to the summit?? Maybe it wasn't really as bad as everyone said??
My positive thoughts were soon confirmed very false. The trail veered to the right and into the bush. It immediately got steeper and started to traverse the side of the mountain.
This was the steep part that was shown on the elevation map. We can do this though!!
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| "The Seven Sisters in the background. The trail was just getting to the steep part." |
The trail got narrower, steeper and muddier. Occasionally, we had to grab onto roots and branches to pull ourselves up the bank to get around places where the trail had washed into the creek below. The sun was starting to come up behind us and the darkness started to fade back into the trees. As we continued to climb, the trees got shorter and more sparse. Soon we could see the sun shining on Seven Sisters Mountain and we could see the trail get steeper yet.
The fun of Leg 6 was just beginning...
Up ahead, I could see other runners, slowly climbing up the slippery trail. The trail got steeper again, and the top was still not in sight. I tried to keep my head down and just focus on one step at a time. Every once in a while, I would glance ahead to see if the top was in sight yet; but the top never seemed to come!! We caught up to a friend of mine. His black leggings were covered in mud, from falling multiple times. He was stopped on the side of the trail, trying to regain his composure. As we passed, he turned away from the trail and threw up.
By this time, my stomach was feeling better, but I didn't want to think about it for fear it would get worse again. I looked up the trail and tried to focus on the other runners up ahead. There was another friend of mine from Grande Prairie. She was also in the bushes, losing her lunch. I put my head down and just focused on me.
I was the only thing I could do anything about. I dug deep inside and found a quiet place, deep inside my mind, away from the singing birds and the quiet chatter of the other people on the trail around me. I talked to myself and forced myself to keep going.
Finally, Jordan and I reached a false summit. We knew it wasn't the real summit, but we took the opportunity to stop and eat where we knew we would be out of the wind. I drank a Boost shake and ate an oreo cookie. The quick break was just what I needed to give me the energy to make it the last few hundred meters over the final summit.
From there, the trail dropped slightly, then followed along an alpine ridge. The trail was very runnable and for once I could run fast enough that I didn't have to check my watch to make sure I was going at least a 10-minute pace, I knew I was going faster. After dropping off the ridge, the downhill trail got steeper. My feet pounding on the rocks seemed to wake up the hot spots on my feet that had formed on Leg 3. I did my best to put the pain out of my mind and gain time where I could on the fast sections of trail.
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"After crossing the summit, the trail followed the ridge to the right, before dropping down to the valley
and heading back east to the transition." |
Jordan and Conway were slightly faster than me, and I was not able to keep up with them, but I was close behind. It was now daylight and the warm sunshine kept me company. The alpine birds were singing loudly and I felt happy and warm inside.
The trail continued to drop lower and lower into the valley. The surface of the trail was rocky and uneven. I focused on each foot placement and tried to land lightly on my feet to prevent the hot spots from forming into blisters. When I finally came to the next aid station, the volunteers warned me there was a big hill just around the corner. When I left the aid station and turned the corner, I realized they weren't lying!! It was an ugly hill. My pace slowed to just a walk. I tried to go as fast as I could but I just had no energy or power left in my legs. I leaned into my poles and used my upper body strength to force my body up the hill. My arms and shoulders doing more work than my legs.
When I crested the top of the hill, I was happy to see a section of downhill again. I slowly started to run. My calves were so tired from climbing the hill, my feet just slapped onto the hard-packed trail. The hot spots on the bottom of my feet seemed to ignite in my shoes. The pain was all I could think about!!
I just had to keep going!! The end was possible if I just kept moving as fast as I could. I remember my coach Krista telling me that at this point in the race, it is ok to hurt; it's ok to have pain.
I had run nearly 140 kilometers. I had to get used to the pain and learn to become friends with it. I had roughly 25 kilometers to go and I knew the pain would only get worse.
I knew the disco aid station would be coming up again shortly. That was a huge landmark for me as I knew it was 7.5 km and 1 hr and 20 minutes to the end of this leg. I pushed forward as hard as I could. Finally, I spotted the aid station. The lights had now been turned off and the party atmosphere seemed to have died off a bit. I didn't mind at all. I just wasn't feeling it. As I walked past the aid station, the volunteers asked if I needed anything. I mumbled that I was fine and kept on running as best I could.
The last time running this portion of the leg, it was dark. Now it was daylight and I could plan my route along the wide road to avoid all the mud holes. At the top of the hill, I text Cheri and told her I would be there in just over an hour, at roughly 10:15AM. If I stayed on track I would have an extra 45 minutes to complete the race. I knew I would never finish at my original target finish time of 11:35AM, but if I kept going I should be able to finish before the 1PM cutoff, and I was fine with that.
In the daylight, the final 7.5 kilometers of leg 6 seemed to never end. It was now after 9AM and the sun was well above the mountains. I was wearing a black shirt and began to overheat. I tried to walk in the shadows along the edge of the trail when I could, but it was not always possible. The trail turned to the right and I was sure that was almost the end. Then I could see the trail disappear down a hill. The loose gravel on the hill pounded into my sore feet. At the bottom was a small creek. I stood in the ankle-deep water and let my feet cool off a bit, then I started up the hill on the other side. I could feel the skin on the bottom of my feet shift slightly as I went uphill. When I got to the top, there was a slight downhill section. Now the skin slid backward as my feet moved ahead in my shoes. I kept on moving as fast as I could, trying to maintain the 10 minute pace to make my goal time at the end of the leg.
I didn't know how much farther I had to go. My mind was no longer able to compute simple math. After 150 kilometers, GPS watches will all vary slightly, so I did know exactly how much farther I had to go. I wasn't thinking right. All I could think about was the pain on the bottoms of my feet. With each step on flat ground, I could feel the water in the blister move from the arch of my foot across the ball, up to my toes. Then I would start a downhill section and the skin would again slide backward. Then the trail would go uphill again, and the skin would slide ahead. The pain was more than I could bear. Tears formed in my eyes and I winced with each step.
I kept looking ahead. Looking for people or signs of the left-hand turn that would take me down the hill into the final transition. Soon I spotted two people walking down the trail towards me. At first, I thought it was someone from our run group, but as I got closer, I didn't recognize them. I pulled my hat lower over my eyes and kept my head down. I didn't want them to see the tears in my eyes. When they got nearer, one of them stepped on either side of the trail. As I "ran" between them, they yelled "hip-hip HORRAY!!!" and threw their arms in the air. I burst into tears then managed to get shout back a "Thank you!!" to them.
I knew I was close to the end of the transition. I had to be!! I began to make a mental list of what I wanted to be done at the transition. I wanted a dry shirt (that wasn't black). I needed my water and electrolytes refilled and maybe a bit of food. I wanted my bear spray and bear claw necklace left in my pack but the rest of the things dumped out. I wanted to be as light as possible for the last leg. If anyone asked me about my feet, I promised myself, I wasn't going to say anything about them. I didn't want anyone to look at them and I didn't want to talk about it.
The sound of someone shouting up the trail made me look up. It as Cheri!! I burst into tears and shouted back. Somehow, my pace quickened and I broke into a bit of a real run. One of the blisters on foot popped as I ran to her. It felt like someone was scraping the skin off the bottom of my foot with a hot knife!! I did my best to not limp. I didn't want her to know how much pain I was really in.
When I caught up to her, we ran down the last section of the hill together. She was in front of me, but I tried not to cry out loud as the tear rolled down my face. I explained to her that I needed a different shirt and my pack dumped out. She yelled ahead to the rest of the crew so they could get ready.
When I crossed the timing line in the transition it was 10:19. I had 2 hrs and 40 minutes for my transition and to run the final leg, which I had allocated 2 hrs and 20 minutes.
I had originally given myself 10 minutes for this transition, but I didn't want to take that long now. I quickly drank my Boost and someone pulled my shirt off, then helped me put on a lighter colored one. Michal emptied the contents of my pack as Cheri was feeding me some more food. I carefully watched to make sure my bear spray and necklace made it back into my pack. That was all I really cared about at this point. I told Krista I knew I could make it to the finish in time. I was confident I could maintain my 10 minute pace. There was no time to relax. Someone grabbed each arm and helped me to my feet. Cheri gave me a final kiss and I was on my way onto leg 7.
Leg 7:
Distance: 11 Km
Elevation Gain: 321 m
Target Time on Leg: 2 Hrs 20 Min
I had been told that Leg 7 started with a big uphill climb. I had mentally prepared myself for that. But I wasn't prepared for the type of hill that loomed in front of me. It seemed straight up!! The only positive part about long hills was the skin on the bottoms of my feet didn't slide back and forth as much. The steep grade seemed to never end. The midday sun seemed to be trying to burn right through me. I tried to pace myself so I wouldn't overheat, but I also knew I didn't have any extra time to spare.
When I reached the top of Wedge Mountain, I was hoping for some relief, but the loose jagged rocks on the trail dug into the bottom of my tender feet. There was no break from the pain. The summit was short-lived. The trail started back down the hill nearly as steep as the incline. At this point, I knew that I couldn't let the pain slow me down. I had to push through it and go as fast as I could. My quads were so tired, I didn't trust them. I took small fast steps down the hill and if I had to take a large step, I used my poles and upper body strength to support me so my legs didn't have to work as hard.
I knew the leg was only 10 kilometers long so I was watching the lay of the land for the final descent into Coleman. I anticipated that at the bottom of this hill would be a road. We would turn right and it would be all downhill into town to the finish line. Well, I was partly right. Through the trees, I could see a gravel road. There was another runner in front of me struggling even worse than I was with the downhill. He tripped on a root and did a complete somersault, then just sat down and slid the final 20 feet to the road.
This is where I was wrong. The racecourse didn't go right, down the road into town like I had hoped. Rather, it turned left and went UP hill and out of sight around the corner. I was angry!! Fortunately, I was in front of the other runner and I don't think he could hear what I was mumbling. I forcefully stabbed my poles into the roadbed and forced myself into my 10-minute pace. I didn't think about the pain. I didn't think about the distance. I just kept moving...
Poles, one step, two steps. Poles, one step, two steps. Poles, one step, two steps. Poles...
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"Yes, there were some moments like this on the race"
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The steady angry rhythm kept my pace from slowing down. Two or 3 kilometers up the hill was the final aid station. I did my best to be happy and polite to them, but I'm pretty sure they could read my state of mind. They cheerily told me "Its downhill to the creek. A small uphill, then rolling hills into town and the finish line."
That sounded doable. I had been wet for nearly 30 hours. I didn't even try to stay dry while crossing the creek. I just splashed through the knee-deep icy water, then started up the loose gravel hill on the other side. Sure enough. At the top, the trail started a gradual descent. I pushed my pace to 10-minutes then a bit faster. I even passed two relay runners!! That boosted my morale!!
The trail slowly continued downhill and wound its way through a sparse pine forest before the single track ended on a paved street. I knew I would make it now!! I heard it was only a couple kilometers of pavement. I did a quick
Facebook Live video so my friends would know I would make it in time, then increased my pace again. After rounding a couple corners, I could see the parking lot near the finish line. People along the street shouted words of encouragement. Passing cars, would roll down their windows and cheer me on.
It was all I could do to maintain my composure and keep running. Finally, I rounded a corner, the road went downhill for a block, then uphill for a block, then turned right into the parking lot near the finish line. I could see a small group of people standing on the edge of the parking long.
I heard someone yell, "PHIL, you are going to do it!!!" It was Cheri!! She ran down the hill towards me with her cell phone in hand. "Its only 2 more blocks, you can do this!!" she told me. Then she pulled out her cell phone and started to play "Only a Mountain" by Dirks Bentley. It was more than I could handle, I broke down and cried. I did my best to keep running but my pace slowed to a walk. It was now uphill to the parking lot. She ran with me through the parking lot, encouraging me along the way.
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| "Cheri, pacing me to the finish line..." |
For the first time in nearly 6 hours, I forgot about my pain. I no longer noticed the blisters squishing back and forth on the bottom of my feet. For a moment, my quads felt normal. I could hear people cheering for me. There were complete strangers in the parking lot.....cheering me on!!
I turned the final corner. The finish line was 100 meters ahead. Somewhere inside me, I found a little more strength and picked up my pace. It was by no means a real run, but after running 100 miles, it was a sprint to the finish. It was 12:24 PM. I finished Leg 7 in 2 hrs 5 minutes, 15 minutes faster than planned.
I had just run 100 miles in 29:24:30..... I summited four mountains, ran all night through the darkness and mud, conquered the pain, and finished the race.
 |
| "The sprint to the finish!!" |
Brian came over and gave me the finishers buckle and beer. At that moment, the whole race seemed worth running, just for that buckle. Cheri helped me to a chair and I sat down. Finally, I had time to relax in the chair. There was no timeline. No list of things to do before I had to leave. I could stay here as long as I wanted...
Cheri brought over the gear that I had put together for the finish line: a warm shirt, dry socks, and my post-race slippers. Finally, I could take off my shoes and socks. I was afraid of what I might see when I looked. Cautiously, Cheri helped me pull off my muddy socks. My feet looked like prunes but surprisingly weren't in that bad of condition. My dry slippers were warm and felt amazing. Then Cheri opened up the cooler and pulled out an ice cream cone!! It was the perfect way to end the race. I sat at the finish line, eating the ice cream cone and watching other runners finish their race...it really was finished. I had completed the race...
As I ate my ice cream cone and watched other runners finish, the thoughts from the past 30 hours swirled through my mind in a jumbled blur. The past events were all mixed together. My mind felt like a mudpuddle that 500 runners had just splashed through on their way to the finish line. I knew it would take time for my mind to sort out the details of what had just happened. I had less than four weeks until the starting gun of the 125 km Canadian Death Race. It was time to head back to the holiday trailer, start recovering from this race and get ready for the next one.....
 |
"That is what my feet looked like after being wet for
nearly 30 hours and running 100 miles." |
 |
| "It took nearly a week for my shoes to dry out in the sun." |
 |
| "The recovery position, the day after the race...." |
 |
"My buckle, beer, and bib... My FIRST 100 Buckle,
the finishing beer with my name and finish time printed on it,
and the bib that still smells like it ran 100 miles...." |
 |
"The 'A Team'!!
My wife is the best crew chief any ultra
runner could ask for!!"
|
Appendix:
Early in this blog, I mention a 60 km run on Hamel that was very physically and mentally challenging for me. I ran past the location of the bear incident twice that day. As we were approaching the spot for the second time that day, one of the ladies in the group asked me to show the group where it happened. She was ahead of me and unaware that I was having a really hard time as we approached the spot. She began to quote the words to this song by Dirks Bently....she didn't know that she was walking through the EXACT spot where we encountered the bears.
Since that run, this song has been my inspiration and has gotten me through many tough times on the trail. It has given me a different perspective on many of life's tough times. Thanks Candice!!
Well I bet my soul on a six string gamble
And I climb like hell through the brush and the bramble
Even though I had my doubts, told myself don't look down
And I turned that hill into a pile of gravel
[Chorus]
It was only a mountain, nothing but a big ol' rock
Only a mountain, it ain't hard if you don't stop
It just took a little step, a right then a left
Then a couple million more, who's counting?
Yeah, that's only a mountain
[Verse 2]
Well you better know the bottom if you wanna be a climber
'Cause there's always another one a little bit higher
Just when I think I'm finally done I'm staring at another one
So I reach down deep and I lace 'em up tighter
[Chorus]
It was only a mountain, nothing but a big ol' rock
Only a mountain, it ain't hard if you don't stop
It just took a little step, a right then a left
Then a couple million more, who's counting?
Yeah, that's only a mountain
[Bridge]
Now I'm standing at the top with the sweat behind me
Yeah, you gotta look up if you ever wanna find me
[Chorus]
It was only a mountain, nothing but a big ol' rock
Only a mountain, it ain't hard if you don't stop
It just took a little step, a right then a left
Now I'm standing at the top just shouting
Yeah, that's only a mountain
It's only a mountain, it's only a mountain
Only a mountain
Only a mountain, it was only a mountain
