It’s December, the apparent rainy season for the Cayman Islands. I flew down there December 4th ready to fulfill the second my second obligation as the trainer for the Team Diabetes fund raiser. I was anxious to meet everyone since I had only communicated to them via email. This would no doubt turn out to being an experience of a lifetime.
Up to this point I was expected to, and I was for that matter I was sending a weekly email to a group of twenty or so fundraisers. I’d focus my messages on subjects that people would hopefully find useful during their training program. Simple things like hydration, heat training (Cayman Islands is hot when considering we all live in Canada), and other “helpful” subjects. Sometimes it doesn’t matter if it’s your first rodeo or not, it’s good to have the reminder. My coach regularily is on me about making sure that I keep up my hydration and nutition regiment even though the cooler weather makes me lazy.
As we waited patiently for the plane to take off, my wife was asking me over BBM if there were others on the plane with me. I replied to here saying that there probably were but I didn’t know who they were. I mentioned that I heard some folks saying they were from Saskatchewan and I figured they were part of the team since we had a strong showing of Saskatoonians.
We landed and the race organisers made sure that entrants had a sorta red carpet appeal. They worked with Customs and managed to give us a priority line. Instead of waiting in a line of 200 or more people (a couple of planes landed within minutes of each other), we were able to bypass the long line and make our way to the van/bus taking us to the hotel.
During the check-in process I met up with Donna, the National Director for Team Diabetes, and she introduced me to Joe, the event planner. It wasn’t long after us meeting and he asked me:
“How do you feel about coming in last?”
“I expect to” I replied. As far as I was expecting, I wasn’t there to prove how fast I could run. I was there to help people out. To make sure that the last person made it across the finish line safely.
I got the chance to meet everybody that night. Joe had organized a meet and greet with delicious finger foods. It was a great opportunity to really get to know the stories. No doubt, it is an attractive proposition, fund raise x number of dollars and get an all expenses (within reason) paid vacation to Grad Cayman and run or walk a marathon or half-marathon. Think is, that most people don’t do it, so to find out why these 20 people were, was a pretty moving experience. I feel bad, cause while I learned about some, I really didn’t get the opportunity to understand why each and every person was doing it.
The race itself was an early start, 5 am. At 4:17 am I got a call from the front desk. It was Joe.
“Are you coming?” We needed to board the bus to the start at 4:20 am.
“Yeah, I’ll be there in two minutes.” I wasn’t going to be late. I was going to be exactly on-time. Just like I am for my own races. But “some people” get nerveous about my precise time planning. Maybe they have right to be. 🙂
This race really appeared to appreciate the support from Team Diabetes. I noticed that there were other teams out on the course, but ours was the only one to be called out by the race announcer. We gathered together and found our places in the crowd at the start. Team members lined up according to their respective time goals and I found the walkers at the back.
I don’t even remember, was it a gun? Was it just a count down? I was busy chit chatting and looking around. At any rate, the race started and we were off. I was walking with Wendy. Such a sweet lady. Her mom had passed two weeks prior and suffered greatly from diabetes. So much so that she was bedridden and blinded from it. I figured that was her motivation. She wasn’t going to be fast, but that didn’t and still doesn’t matter. What matters is that she was there and she had raised the money to help the Canadian Diabetes Association. Not only that, she had a smile on her face the whole time.
I walked with Wendy for about 2 or so miles. She knew that I needed to touch base with the rest of the team and so she insisted that I run ahead. I sped along and caught up with some of the team members. Each time given them a high five and checking in with them. I wanted to make sure they were hydrating well and that they felt good. I passed Betsy, she was with her 13 yr old grandson. He was a little young and so was asked to stay with his grandmother who was walking the half-marathon. Like a good sport, he did that, but when I saw him I asked
“Wanna run?” His eyes popped out of his head. I took that as a yes.
“C’mon then, I’m trying to catch everyone.”
We ran together from about mile 2.8 to mile 5.8. I think we caught up to about half of the team, which I thought was pretty good. I decided that we need to head back. I had to check in on Wendy. As we ran back, everybody was cheering us on. I was a little confused but soon realised that everyone thought we were among the leaders of the marathon. I tried to tell people that I was just running to the back of the pack, that was futile though. As if they would understand what I was doing.
Once I rejoined Betsy I left her grandson with her and found Wendy, she was doing well. I walked with her for a couple of minutes and then I got the text message:
Leave the halfers catch up with Kathy.
I motored forward. My mission wasn’t to find Kathy, but instead to find Janice. A mistake that was cleared up somehow. Each time I’d catch up with a Team D runner I’d give them a high five, check-in to make sure all was ok and then motor on up.
I saw Bonita – she went to give me a high five. I saw her finger brace and opted out. I didn’t want to knock her mangled finger tip off, besides it made for a great communication tool.
I tried to keep an eye out for each of the runners. Cheering them on was my job. I think I was able to give a high five to everyone except our media champion, Rustie, a morning show host in Regina. Instead I heard her say “Hey Byron” and I thought from that moment that all of Saskatchatoon would think fellas from Ontario were to good for them.
R u with anyone
I replied to the text,
Not even 15 minutes later
R you with her
I was thinking, jeez I’m not The Flash. I trying…”
Yet – she put space between us
10 minutes later, I finally caught up with Janice. She told me of hot spots and chaffing. I stopped her immediately and we taped her up and added body glide. Pulled out the sunscreen and applied a new protective layer. Now we were ready to finish the last 15 miles of the race.
Janice was trying to keep her spirits up. The heat was exhausting and I don’t think the weather in Nova Scotia prepared her for what she was subjecting herself to. I checked on her pretty frequently, making sure she was sipping water and her electrolyte drink. Also making sure she was getting some food into her gut. We didn’t want her to repeat the pogo stick attack a fellow runner experienced from his muscles seizing up. The guy couldn’t put his foot down flat and when he tried to he just sorta bounced up and fell down to the ground. On his way down he bounced of a car adding to the hilarity even though it was evident that his situation was serious. I looked over at her, I don’t think the her toes were feeling good, you could see it on her face. From that point I repeated over and over, “Smile”.
When you are feeling hopeless, you have a sorta binary choice. Enjoy what you are doing (or fake that you are enjoying it), or let the world fall apart around you. If you choose the latter, then you are most certainly setting yourself up for failure. The voices telling you to stop what you’re doing use this weakness as their advantage. They repeat over and over, this is too painful, there is no reward in pushing to the end, you will feel better if you just stop. These are all lies. If you actually do stop, when you realize that you could have kept on to the end, all you are left with is regret. It is impartive to smile, it doesn’t matter if it’s fake, this helps generate positive dialogue in your head and staves of the little deceitful devil.
We pressed on. I could tell that the heat was really getting to her and that the pain in her legs was agonizing. I changed up my strategy. We would find smaller goals, run two light poles ahead, then walk to the next light pole. For three light poles we’d run, then walk for one. Short stops at the aid stations would allow us to cool off with some ice and a chilled bottle of water. We persisted forward.
With about 3 to 4 miles left. I started getting pinged by text.
Just checking in
How far out
I didn’t really think much of it, though it did seem like I was being nagged. Like kids in the car saying “Are we there yet?”. As the remaining miles decreased to one single mile, I kept pushing Janice to press forward.
“C’mon lets run this one in from here, you can do this” I said to her. Everytime she’d break into her walk, I was on her to run. I wasn’t giving up. She could do it, she just needed to tell herself that she could. We turned one corner, then another, each time making a liar outta me as I kept repeating that the end was just around the corner, it wasn’t, not quite.
Finally it was in sight. Janice picked up her pace and started to run full out towards the finish. As we crossed the finish line, her boyfriend Dylan pulled out into the corral and one of the race volunteers pulled out a chair for Janice to sit in. I went to the side and Donna said:
“Watch this, this is why I was pestering you,Dylan wanted to be ready.”Dylan got down to one knee, Janice oblivious of what was going on was looking at her medal she earned. Dylan pulled out the ring and with a “Will you marry me?” followed by an emotional “Yes” these tow love birds were engaged.
It was an increadible day. A team of 21 fund raisers, each with their own story making it to the end of the run. For me it was inspiring to see them work so hard in the heat of the Carribean, the second part of their obligation, the first part being the fundraising which I’m proud to say they raised over $130k CAD for diabetes research and othe activities related to diabetes.
For me the story doesn’t end there. The following Tuesday morning, about eight of us had to wake up at the ungodly hour of 4 am to get out on our plane, which was to depart at 6:15 am. Over the trip, you start to develop bonds with people from across our wonderful country. The fun part of the trip home, is that you just want to spend every minute you can with these great people. As we waited to board our first plane, it felt like we were all getting closer byt the minute. Sharing stories we’d been shy to share ealier on. Saying things about each other that we’d been relunctant to say fearing that it may be misinterpreted.
We finally did board the first plane and flew to Kingston, Jamaica. We had a 6 hour layover there. Once we made it through customs, we started to throwing out ideas of what we should do. One of the taxi drivers overheard and started suggesting things we could do, visit the Bob Marley museum, eat at some restaurant. When all was said and done, the group decided to hang back at the airport. We kept each other company and continued to get to know each other.
It was noon, and we had 2 hours and 30 minutes to board. The check-in for Air Canada opened and I reached for my passport. It wasn’t there. In a stop, drop, and roll approach, I looked for my passport frantically and confirmed Rustie’s observation that I was a little scatterbrained. It was nowhere to be found. I walked back over all the places we had been. The group pitched in helping me scan the airport. We went to the Security Post, Customs, the Police station to file a police report (which automatically voids a passport by the way).
Earlier I slipped the taxi driver a $10 cause I felt bad for leading him on about maybe heading in to Kingston. He saw that I was frantic, when I pointed at him to say, get your van, he jumped into action. Kenneth drove me towards the embassy. I was hoping to maybe get a temp passport issued immediately. As we were driving, I finally got through to someone and they basically informed me that I had a 3 day stay ahead of me. This wasn’t good. I needed to be in Ottawa on Friday for my grandfather’s funeral.
We headed back to the airport. I thought I’d try my luck. Maybe it would suddenly turn up. My new friends had at this point passed through security and were worried for me. I got a BBM message from Rustie telling me to get in the airport so they could throw some money over to me. I got into the airport and looked for this glass they’d be throwing money over to me. I headed to the security and tried to negotiate with them. She wouldn’t let me pass, but pointed to the second floor where Mike was standing in behind the glass wall. I rushed over and in a very Hollywood move, he tossed a ziplock back with cash in over to me. My heart warmed.
Earlier on I had also reached out to my wife, Lindsay, thinking that a picture of the photocopy may come in handy, she also sent a pic of my birth certificate. Realizing that I was in a futile situation, I gave in and asked her to help me figure out where to stay. She found the Mayfair Motel, a minute walk from the Canadian Embassy. Kenneth and I became friends. He seemed to be looking out for me. He brought me to the Mayfair and gave me his cell number.
“Call me if you need N – E – Ting mon” He said with a seriously Jamaican accent.
I decided that there was nothing more I could do that day and I retired to my room where I began my bedbug check – all clear. I tried to relax and take it easy, what else was I going to do right? The following day I went to the Embassy. A wild experience on it’s own, you aren’t even allowed to bring in your cell phone, you had to leave every device at the security post. I entered, talked with consular services, filled out some forms and then headed to get some passport photos. I thought maybe I would get my passport that day.
That wasn’t the case. I had to wait at least to the next day AND somehow I would need to book some flights once I got word from the consular services to move forward. I waited around for another day hoping that I would hear back. I didn’t. It got late, so I went to bed.
I woke up the next day, it was still a little dark out, so I assumed it was pretty early. I just hung around and tried to be patient. Time was ticking away and it was looking like I wouldn’t be able to make it to Ottawa for Friday at this point. 9:00 am chimed and with so too did my BlackBerry. It was the consular service letting me know to book a flight for no earlier than Dec 11. My heart sank, there’d be no way I could get from Kingston to Ottawa in time for the funeral, which was to be help at 11 am. I replied back and asked if there was any chance to get a flight that day. The response was positive, but to make sure it was and evening flight because there was no certainty that I would be able to get my temporary passport earlier than 4:30 pm.
I reached out to my network and got an itinerary so that the passport processing was now able to take place. I don’t know if I was as anxious as I was between 10 am and 3 pm previously in my life. I hung on to my BlackBerry and I was checking it every 5 minutes, no message. Finally I got what I had been waiting for “Come pcik up the temporary passport.”
I called Kenneth to bring me to the airport and I flew to JKF, transfered to LGA, stayed up all night, flew to YYZ, walked across the airport and made my way to YOW. When we landed I sent a BBM over to Lindsay.
Landed – come get me – may have to circle
It was 10:16 am and I was stepping into my car. We still had time to make it to the funeral. I couldn’t believe it, I might just make it there I thought. Lindsay drove. We pulled into the church parking lot at 10:40 am. Unreal I thought. I grabbed my suit that Lindsay brought for me and changed in the parking lot. Fully dressed and a little stinky I made it.
When I got back home from Utah this past April, I was happy that I finished my first 100 miler. To this day I still think I could do better. I looked at the calendar and realised that with the recovery cycle, I didn’t have much time. I decided that a couple of things needed to change. First, I thought it was time to switch up the coaching staff.
I asked a fellow ultra runner, Mel (who kicked my ass at Zion), if she liked her coaches. If they had a spot I’d give them a shot. With a stroke of luck I had new coaches, Gary and Eric of Ridgeline Athletics. Just some guys from BC, right?
Next I started to prepare for the race. I knew that I’d need crew and pacers for sure. My dad said he’d be there to crew, same with my wife. It was a matter of finding some people I could sucker into flying across the country to run up and down mountains, and probably at night, so they get nothing in return; no spectacular views or anything. In the end, I was able to get Mel and Lucy to willfully agree to help me out with my adventure.
A week before the race, I get a Facebook message from Mel. She hits me with “I really don’t think I will be ready for pacing duties”. I shake. I lined this girl up thinking that she would bust my ass across the finish. Now it was looking like I’d have to figure out how I was going to do that to myself. I played it cool though, I finished our chat with “Let’s see how things go”.
Mel and I flew out about a week early on Gary’s advice. I certainly didn’t want to repeat the mistake of getting into a new time zone, then racing without adapting to the shift in time. When the two of us made it there, we hung out in Abbotsford, Vancouver, Chililwack, mostly walking around and discovering the beauty of the province. We also got a chance to meet Gary.
The Wednesday ahead of the race was an exciting day. My wife, Dad, and my second pacer Lucy were all showing up in Abbotsford. Mel and I picked them all up then headed to Manning Park resort making two important stops, lunch and then some grocery shopping.
We settled into the cabin at the resort and hung around the picnic table in front of the cabin. We all got to chatting. It was good to see that everyone would feel comfortable with each other while they were going to be spending a lot of time together waiting on me. While we were bonding, I noticed one of our neighbor’s was wearing a Canadian Death Race shirt circa 2013. I shouted over at him asking if he had done it solo or as a relay. He and his friend came over to our table and started chatting.
Brian who was wearing the shirt says “I am running the 50 mile, was supposed to do the 120 but I had an injury early on this year”
Ted is his friend and states, “I don’t care if I am DFL, Im gonna finish this one”. He was taking on the 120 miler.
“Dead Fucking Last!”
Thursday was the final day for prep. I focused my entire day on the small details; double check my gear, make sure I sign in, go to the UBC physiology testing, revise my plan, triple check my gear, go to the mandatory meeting, freak out, get nervous. I finalized my plan into queue cards. It was simple and followed the advice of Pam Reed, which was also echoed by Gary. Gary did give me a little more to work with of course. As my bed time approached the magnitude of what I was about to take on really started to sink in. I was frazzled to say the least.
I woke up Friday morning and I felt surprisingly calm. I may have apologized for my nerves the night before, if I didn’t, then here goes: “I’m sorry”. After having breakfast and getting my stuff together, my dad drove us to Ashnoloa River Road where the start of the race was. The day was beautiful. When we finally arrived at the start, I ate some more food and danced my nerves away. As the start time approached, I decided to join everyone at the start line. I signed in for the third time (they really want to make sure you are running the race) and walked down to the start with my dad trying to get me to pose over and over again. I’d turn around and allow him to take my picture, but all he’d get capture was my displeasure of having to pose for another picture. On the walk down to the start, I’d hear people yaking and joking about my pack. It was full, 3L of water, my emergency bivvy, my headlamp, my food, etc. Oh well, I guess I wasn’t cool enough? Whatever, I had a massive climb to start the race and I needed to get in the zone.
The race started and I was blown away by the number of people who literally shot up the mountain. There is no way that I would be able to run this whole thing with that kind of effort right from the start. Instead I moseyed my way up the first of four mountains. As I climbed, and climbed, and climbed, people kept passing me. I stuck to my plan, the first half could never feel like work. I kept my steps as slow and steady as possible. Even over exaggerating them so that my perceived effort was in fact very easy. This guy Tim, also from Ontario spots me and starts climbing with me.
“This is a pace I like” he says. So you’d think he would hang with me the whole climb right? Wrong. We aren’t even half way up and even he finds my pace to be too slow. Then, as if the universe is trying to tell me something, DFL Ted passed me, turns his head to me and says, “what are you doing back here?”
Fast forward to the summit. The trail is single track and looking out over the valleys makes the climb worth it. As we cross the top and start down, I am easily able to pass people since I spend no time calculating my next step. Like skier staring down a mogul field, I spot my line and trust my feet to effortlessly guide me down the slope. I held back enough so that my breathe wasn’t a conscious effort. I passed Tim while he was taking a pee break.
“Well you’re still light on your feet!” he says with what I took as a surprised tone. I thought to myself, I better be fuck sakes, I not even a quarter of the way through the ridiculous commitment of mine. The trail continued down where you crossed over steep slopes. Hit steep descents and ran along a stream, maybe two, or maybe it was the same one I saw it twice, whatever, too much to process.
I looked at my queue card, after hitting the first aid station I was already 15 minutes behind my target and it wasn’t looking good for my second target. Listening to Gary’s advice repeat in my head, I made sure that I didn’t put any extra effort to close the gap. When I entered the second aid station, my crew was waiting for me, I handed off my pack and my poles and hit up the aid station for some food. Bacon! Queso’s! Mars bars! I stuffed my face, and you’d think I’d be happy. I wasn’t, I was pissed off. I was 30 minutes behind my estimate of when I’d be there. I could help but think that I’d be DFL. Was I supposed to be ok with that?
Hastily, I made my way up the dirt road to begin the second climb. This time we’d summit Flat Top Mountain. The first 25 km felt good and I was happy to get going. All I could think of was that I’d probably not achieve 36 hours. So it was time to reframe what that meant to me. I had lots of time since this would be another slow climb. Even so, I was surprised when I’d pass some runner on the way up. That said, I was still being passed by more people than I was passing.
I caught up to a girl named Brandi who passed me earlier on the climb up Flat Top, she was putting her jacket on, it really hadn’t crossed my mind, but I guess it was cooling off . We started our small talk and covered the normal subjects. It was pretty ironic seeing as she just had pointed out that being from a cold climate I’m probably suited to run in the hail.
Did I forget to mention that? 10 minutes (or so) into my climb, I started to hear the rumble of thunder. Shortly after that I’d get a glimpse of lightning. I’d count, one, two, three… hoping for a long count. Apparently that means the storm is far away? Short count. As I passed Brandi the wind picked up and before you knew it there was hail, falling burned out trees, the whole lot. Once the hail turned to wet snow blobs, I decided that it was time to get into my cold and wet weather gear. All you folks that laughed at me for having a lot in my pack, you can stop laughing now. Shit just got real.
The climb wasn’t finished, and the wind was relentless. Sheets of rain made their way to the ground – sideways. I was carrying my poles while I walked through streams of water funneling down the single track trail. With plenty more mountain to climb the tree cover opened up. The unrelenting storm saturated you. The cold temperature made you shiver. There was nothing you could do but to press on. The one piece of equipment I wish I had at that point was a set of gloves. My hands were freezing cold. I shove them in my mouth just to warm them up. I kept thinking that I needed to ditch the poles because I wasn’t using them for anything other than freezing my hands. Once I found some adequate tree cover, I attached my poles to my pack, problem solved.
Crested the mountain was a huge relief. I started to run and my body was warming up aging. I was so focused that when I happened to look over to my left I remember the reason why I came out to do the Fat Dog in the first place. It is incredibly scenic. The clouds looked as if the were stretching out in some form of perspective. Ah yes, hallucinations. I shook my head and focused on the trail. Let’s go!
Running down Flat Top is awesome. The trails are runnable and the slope is gentle. With little effort I was able to cruise down the mountain and catch up to many of the people that passed me earlier on. I focused on trying to meter my output, finishing this leg would mean that I was 66 km in (two thirds to run). I started to think that maybe I needed to spend more time figuring out where that threshold is between going fast enough, but not too fast as to drain my legs before I need them. I ended up convincing myself that since the downhill really didn’t feel like much any effort that I was cool. Let er rip. I entered one of the aid stations before the river crossing. The volunteers are amazing, they would get my drop bag and prep my pack while scavenged for food.
Trying to keep minimize my time at the aid stations, I made off with some food and continued to eat while I finished the last bit of the mountain. I noticed that the darkness was setting in. I’d held off getting my headlamp (which made for an interesting final bought through the trees) until I crossed the Pasayten river. I made it across, put my headlamp on, and in just a few km before I’d see my crew.
I got into the aid station at Bonnevier (bon-i-vi-er). Wet and cold, I barked out some orders about taping my toes, get me this, do that. I was pretty focused on getting on my way but my crew wanted to slow me down to make sure I started to think a little more clearly. At first I was thinking I’d just head out in my thermal top and shorts. As my core temp cooled down (cause I was idle) I changed my mind. I eventually agreed to the idea that it was going to be cold, likely wet as well. Missing my winter running underwear I popped on my Calvins followed by my running tights. Ready! Well not so fast really. There was an equipment audit and I didn’t have my second lamp. I thought an extra set of batteries was enough, nope. Mel cruised to get my headlamp that was in the car. She ran so hard she gave herself an asthma attack.
With all of the mandatory gear, Lucy and I made our way up the mountain, slowly. We were passed by a number of runners. By now I had played leapfrog enough to feel comforatable in my pacing. We made our way up the switch backs and then boom boom started… ha ha, this wasn’t the boom boom of thunder. Not this was a much more personal problem. Poop! The worst! I’d go boom boom, clean up in all that and apply lube. Take a few steps, and now I was too hot, so I’d adjust, I’d be OK for a bit. Finally I could take it, I took my jacket off, then my top. I could regulate my temperature. Lucy to say the least, was concerned that I was top less in the cold night with rain coming down sideways cause of the “light” winds. Just for a bit till I cool down I reassured her. Then of course I did cool off, too much so. We’d go through the exercise till she’d finally offer me a piece of clothing.
Hey do you want to wear my rank top?
Yeah that sounds good!
While I was standing top less, she striped down to her bra and handed me her tank top. I fumbled with it while I tried to put it on. I don’t know what it is about girl tank tops, but they aren’t easy to slip on like guy clothes.
“Come on – you’ve got inside out”. She says laughing at my inability to insert my head into the garment.
“Isn’t this the tag?”
We started back up the mountain. Boom boom. I was frustrated, Lucy was cold.. I couldn’t get any momentum. To add to that, I had gone boom boomed so much that I drained my supplies, no more lube. I knew at that point, that I would feel the wrath of the boom boom, at some point.
We continued slowly, it was getting colder and the rain that was forecasted to ease off, didn’t. We were drenched even with our “waterproof” jackets. We were overjoyed when we made it to the end of the Heather leg. We figured that we would be able to warm up a little refocus and make it on our way. Instead we found some amazing volunteers that were braving the horrible weather just the same as the runners. The ais station was a makeshift tent of tarps strung together. It was crowded. Many runners huddled together in emergency blankets trying to get warm. If it hadn’t hit you yet, it was here that you started to realize that we were in some difficult conditions and you needed to be prepared for them.
Stopping is never a good idea. It is an especially bad idea when it is cold out. You need to move to generate heat, so its obvious to say that us having been stopped just to queue up for some water and food would make you cold. In fact it caused Lucy to catch a chill. As it set in and I think she started to doubt herself. We got the emergency blanket on her, though it wasn’t enough at that point. After a couple of minutes, she was able to sit down. Negative thoughts must’ve been bouncing around in her head. I crouched so that we were both looking straight into each other’s eyes. I tried to encourage her to reframe the situation.
“Look, this is all in your head, you can do this, you aren’t letting me down, you’re not slowing me down, think you are warm and you’ll be warm.” One of the volunteers passed her one of her bottles filled with warm water. It helped us out, in no time Lucy was back on her feet.
As we were leaving the aid station, I asked how far it was to the next aid station, and what kind of terrain we expect.
Think it went like this: “It is 14 km downhill from here.”
Bull shit. More like up, down. Up and up, then down. More up, down. We continued along the trail and we came to a place where it was impossible to see very far at all. I had 275 lumens but I think I needed more, like 500 or more even. It was unbelievable how the clouds (fog?) were so thick up top that the markings were impossible to find. Some guys caught up to us and with their portables suns. Making the night turn to day was enough for us to find the trail and we ran off.
As we ran along the weather weather conditions improved slightly, it was still cold but at least it was no longer raining. We continued along three brothers till we got to a ridge line. With shaky legs I took this very slowly and once over we started down the mountain.
“Is that a cliff?” Lucy asked peering over the side into the abyss. A few steps later I confirmed, “No that’s a lake.“
It was getting light out now and we just entered Nicomen Lake aid station. The volunteers here weren’t as helpful here as they had been everywhere else (and as helpful as the rest of the aid stations). We paused here for maybe 10 minutes to regain our focus, eat a bit, fill our bottles and head down to the flats. With the sun up, our spirits were up as well. The rain was held off and we seemed to be making good time heading down the mountain.
Over night, I didn’t see much. The rain, clouds, and general darkness didn’t really allow you to see much of anything other than the immediate trail in front of you. This was not the experience as we made our way to the Flats. At one point I was looking up the trail and I swear there a soldier circa WWI holding his head as if he was mourning something. As we’d approach the soldier, he’d disappear into the leafs and roots on the side of the trail. Later I’d see a garage, then a car, a house. Each one of the visions morphing into the leaves when I’d approach them. Interesting times ahead I thought to myself.
We made it to the aid station, sorta. There was an obstacle in my way. I had to cross a river by walking across a fallen tree trunk. It seemed easy enough, but it wasn’t. I was tired and this really challenged my balance. I fell/jumped off the log and landed in a bunch of branches, thankfully.
Not having learned my lesson, we stopped. I had my drop bag and I was slow to replenish my rations. I focused on the food. I wanted coffee, but never got some. I stood by the heater. Lucy had plead with me to keep moving. Eventually we did, very slowly.
Mentally I was getting weak. My body was tired and I was giving into it. We only had 8 km to cover before I’d switch pacers. The narrative in my head made every climb seem like a impossible task. Each time I start upwards I’d notice that my feet ached more and more. Foolishly I focused on the pain. With sloppy footing I started to kick a rocks with my right foot. Each time I yelp as if a hammer just smashed my little toe.
I was back on the narrative of how I’d blown away my goals. I’d be DFL. I reduced myself to a whimpering walk. Each turn I’d hope that we were at the Aid station, but no, it would be another climb. Growing ever tired of the theme, are we there, no this is another damn climb, the narrative was amplified in my head.
As we approached the Cascades aid station, small children and their parents would appear (these were real people). Suddenly I focused on the fact that the aid station was right around the corner. There was no way toddlers would be a km or more away from the car I figured.
I saw my crew. I started to take off the wet clothes and then I remembered that I was wearing Lucy’s top.
“I’ve got something to show you!” I said as I was striping down. I posed, I looked good.
I pleaded with Mel that I would get some time to lay down. After some bargaining, she only allowed me 15 minutes, and she timed it. I didn’t sleep but it was nice to be horizontal for a while. When my 15 minutes were up, I ate some food I didn’t want to eat, then I got me dressed for the day run. As I was eating, my crew mentions that there were only 20 or so runners that had come through and some 49 had already dropped. I couldn’t believe it. A smile came across my face.
“I’m not dropping.” I said with assured determination.
Mel pulls me out on the trail. We are running. She has no sympathy. We are running. Between Cascades and Sumallo aid stations, we head down the side of the highway. At an easy pace, her fresh legs are pulling me at a 6:00 min/km pace! I complain and whine as to try to influence her to slow down a little for poor Byron. She ignores me. I keep up with her. I complain more, I point out that I just ate and can’t keep that pace without cramping. She listens to me plight for probably 30 seconds and basically says suck it up whiney baby, lets run. I’m thinking maybe if I say that Gary told me I should slow down after eating solid food that this might make her ease off the gas. I was wrong.
We arrive at Sumallo aid station. 84 in! 84 out! The fastest I was through any aid station on the course. We hurdled through the trail. I did everything I could to keep up. Mel would vary her speed a little, but only long enough to keep pulling me through at running pace. Up the hills, I’d still walk these, but we were pretty good about running through most of skagit. It really felt like I was on repeat. There were 3 (?) bridges that we’d cross. Each time I’d look to see if I could see fish, each time I would fail to spot one. Each time I felt like I just did this. Was I in a time loop?
We made it to the out and back aid station. People were clapping and very supportive. I sat on the ground feet out. Ski Patrol comes over to ask me how I am doing and start getting to the reason why I refuse to sit on a chair. I explain that I am sitting on the ground feet out because I was told it was the best thing to do, then he agrees and explains the significance of stretching your feet out. I guess I checked out. My crew shows up a little late (I didn’t realize this till after the race) and starts helping Mel with I get out of the aid station.
To this point I hadn’t aggravated my little toe since Cascades aid station. I was getting a little sloppy and I stubbed my toe a couple of times, like I needed to remind myself how it felt like to have a hammer smash your toe. Mel pointed out that there are medics at the aid stations, they would take care of my toe.
“84 in! Need a medic. Just need someone to help me with this blister under my toenail.” I clarified as I saw Lindsay approach. I didn’t want her to think and then worry about me being hurt. Well, I was – sorta, but not really.
The volunteer came over to help out and immediately decides that my blister under my toenail is not a blister. He decided he was going to fashion some form of donut to put on my toe to keep it from rubbing and I purportedly to keep the pressure off the sore spot on my toe. Frustrated, Mel told him to wheep the blister. Though he still wouldn’t buy our story of the existence of a blister under my toenail. After a bit of back and forth, I thank the gentleman for his effort and excuse him. Mel took over and used her safety pin to drain the blister. The lady volunteer that was there was being a little more helpful. She bandaged my toe and provides some Tylenol in an effort to dull the pain for a while. I lubed up, kissed my wife and left.
We didn’t make it far. The bandage has to come off and the blister needs more attention. Mel produced the pin, I took my shoe off and she proceeded by ripping all the skin under my toenail, adios blister! As we finished up with my toe, a couple of 120 milers passed by us, one asked
“Are you ok?” I thought in the back of my head, well that was nice of him to ask, but I hardly belief he actually wants me to be ok! It is more along the lines of “man I hope your ok – but your pain is my advantage. See you at the finish line – lets have a beer after I beat you. The beer is on me.”
With my shoe back on and we started our climb up the final mountain range. I was a little confused because I lost track of where we are on the course. I stopped looking at my queue cards that provided me information because I felt discouraged by knowing how far off my estimates I was. We climbed and climbed. Switchback after switchback. I got a sense that Mel wanted to get to the summit before dark. I knew I wouldn’t be able to. Though I noticed that her ease in climbing the mountain, I offered for her to get up as high as she could before sun down. I insisted even though she didn’t really want to leave me, thinking I would slow down even more. She may have been right, but because I didn’t want her to be right I convinced her to press on as much as she could and then I continued to try to catch her. It got so dark that I sat down and put my lamp on. Getting up I started along and there she was. She was lonely?
We kept on and it was here that I started to notice my quads were tired. I pushed through as much as possible but was starting to get discouraged again. Surprisingly we turned a corner and we made it to Camp Mowich. All of a sudden it dawned on me, we had 1 aid station till the finish.
“Half marathon to finish? I can do a half marathon in my sleep!” I continued with delirious enthusiasm “and that is what I am going to do!” The folks around the campfire got a chuckle from that. I drank disgusting coffee ate a little and we were on our way.
This section proved to be very hard mentally. I was suffering. My legs were so very tired and my knees were starting to scream at me. Moving was hard and I really slowed down. Mel was no doubt frustrated by this. Going up, while it proved difficult because I was still trying to moderate my climbs was easier than anything. At this point I just wanted to finish. The longest 8 km stretch ever. We moved across steep slopes that had nothing more than a narrow single track carved into the side of the mountain. Mel was leaned into the mountain trying not to look at the steep drop on our right. I thought it was funny – not thinking about the misery of sliding helplessly down the mountain. I figured that since it wasn’t a waterslide, there’d be too much friction, you won’t go far!
We make it to Skyline, the final aid station. I am sore. Beat down. At this point the I am thinking I am probably DFL. We join some runners, but it appeared that they are in the 70 mile run. I wasn’t motivated to beat them out of the gate. We drank some coke, eat some chips and start the final push. It started with a steep climb up, followed by a lovely run. We made it out about 5 or so minutes (don’t really know could have been 30 minutes) from the aid station and I notice that there were no markings, and realized, we hadn’t seen a marking for quite some time. I stop Mel.
“I’m not moving forward until I know there are marking ahead.” I know I am not moving quickly and there is no way in hell I am taking a step I don’t have to take to get me to the end. Mel is likely a bit aggravated with me, but easily agreed to run ahead and scout for the marker. I watch her float like a ghost up the mountain side. I’m convinced that she didn’t once touch the ground when she went ahead. Serious, she was floating as if she was Casper the ghost or something. She came back only to report that there was no marker up ahead. The couple that she ran ahead with continued along anyway. I still wasn’t convinced. I needed to know for certain. I was miserable (to be around). I even caused a backlog of people on the ridge. I think there were 20 people that caught up to us and I got a lot of the them to second guess themselves. By this point I guess I was somewhat convinced that we were probably heading the right way.
I ended up allowing myself to believe that if this many people made it this far, then I could rest assured that we were on the right track. About what felt like a km ahead, some brave souls confirmed they saw a marker. That is where I switched into race mode. I realized that I wasn’t DFL. I realised that I don’t want to give up whatever position I was in. I realised that I need to run.
Mel looked back a little puzzled but ready to run. We were off and running. We hit a climb that I think it is the final ridge line on our way home. We climb fast now. I huffed and puffed my way up to each crest. Each time hoping that it was the final crest to reach the top. Each time I was wrong. I tried not to look back. I tried to keep my focus on moving as fast as I can and putting as much a gap between me and the backlog of runners I created. Up, up, up, Mel was moving with what appears to me as an relaxed effort. I gasped for air and started throwing out excuses for it. “You have a better VO2max” I say. Just as we make it to the crest of another climb I was overtaken by the couple that Mel was scouting with. I notice that we made it to the top.
The rest of this run was mine. We bounced down the rocky path. I am careful not to step on loose rocks knowing that my agility is compromised by having been out for some 40 hours on the trail. We were movers and shakers now. I felt no pain. I ran.
The fluidity of the run was exhilarating. I couldn’t get over it. I was 180 or so km in and I was running! I wasn’t thinking of anything really at this point but to keep the run going. Mel would turn back every now and again, probably to check if I was still with her. I think she couldn’t believe it either. It was a double take after another. “Yup he is really still on my heals… let’s keep it up.” Is what I imagined her thinking.
We started passing runners. We got words of encouragement, applause even. 70 milers shout out “solid finish” then they started to run with us. They dropped off after 100 m or so. With my ego booted a little, I felt like we picked up the pace just a little.
Dy heave. A little more of a dry heave…. more dry heave.
After the quick dry heave, I felt better. We carefully navigated our way down a final rocky descent and then picked up a nice trail. We passed a fellow runner that was vomiting and I think to myself “they’ll feel better soon”. We continued to run. I wondered to myself when the trail would start to look familiar, like in the videos I had watched, and no sooner that I start thinking that, we made it to the cover of the trees and the trail was smoother. I started to think we were really close now. I kept anticipating that I would see the finish each time the trail turns to the left. I didn’t. Mel turned her head back, I’m was still running. She was in disbelief (I’m sure of it) and rightfully so, I was such a whiney baby. She blurted out “You’re a rockstar” We continued to run…
We finally made it down to a dirt road and there were the glow sticks. I was ecstatic, I thought the finish was 200 m away I start sprinting…. only to realize 500 m later, that we were still a long way off. I was gassed. I couldn’t keep up to Mel, I walked, I ran, I walked, I ran. Finally I was able to hold a pace that brings me to the finish. We saw it, but the path took us the long way round. We crossed the final bridge, rounded the corner, I handed my poles to Mel and try to keep up with her.
We crossed the finish line, and I looked at the time clock, wait, what? 42 hours 13 minutes… How was that possible? I thought I’d be more than that for sure!
Lindsay and Lucy were there at the finish they like me were excited but quickly switch into crew mode. I slowly make my way to the ground and as for the chair to be brought closer to my body. As I lay on the ground with my feet up, a UBC student came to me and says something. It didn’t even sound like English. Then one of the race volunteers brought me my buckle. I gripped onto it tightly, never to let it go.
Special and sincere thanks to my wife. She has been supporting me through this crazy habit for the past 2 years now. Never batting an eye when I say I need to run. Then coming out the main event no matter how worried it makes her. To my dad for flying out from Halifax to drive my team around the course. To Lucy for helping through the first night. Her company was invaluable and I appreciated her honesty in setting me straight (left out of the story). Last, but not least, to Melanie for kicking my ass and showing me no mercy. Thank you so very much.
Where do I start? Months ago, when I asked a complete stranger to pace me at my second attempt of the 100 mile distance? Or, at the start line where I was shivering in the desert? Perhaps somewhere in the middle? Well… here goes. I will include my pacers brain dump (in italics) as it makes for more fun.
For just about every past race that I signed up for and ran, I played it by ear. Sure, I had time goals, and there were a few races where I was competing for the second or third time. Others, both my coach and I knew the course, so it was easy to know what to expect. Preparing wasn’t high on my list of must do’s ahead of a race. Haliburton was my first real attempt at planning for a race. I didn’t finish that one because my body stopped working, not due to the lack of planning. Anyway, all this to say, I hadn’t learned the value in preparation. There are so many details, so many variables that can end you, or more appropriately, end your race. How do you really anticipate them?
A while back, it is probably November, I asked a stranger, Jody, to pace me. For some crazy reason, she accepted the challenge and that was that. As the race approached, she would ask a flurry of questions to which I had one answer, “I don’t like to think too much about the race ‘cause I don’t want to freak myself out.” She, probably a little disappointed, would say something along the lines of “OK that’s great that you don’t let yourself get freaked out.”
Time passed and we Skyped on three occasion. We talked mostly about nothing, I guess we were more or less just getting acquainted with each other. The last time we talked, it dawned on me that that the race was about a week or so away. I got a little freaked out and decided it was time to really study the map to try to estimate how long it would take me to finish the race. There are so many aid stations at this race that I decided that I would depend on those for nutrition. They were fully stocked with food and would have Tailwind as the electrolyte drink. I decided that I would rely entirely on the aid stations with the exception of a few staples, Hammer Gels, Salt Stick, and a canister of Gu Brew as a backup in case Tailwind didn’t agree with me.
I arranged all the flights so that Lindsay (my gal) and I would meet Jody in Vegas. My friend Donna, who was taking on the 100 miler solo arranged to meet us in Vegas. I offered her the option to stay and drive to Utah with us. Two days before we were flying out, we discovered that she asked her husband to join her and offer his support as she prepared to run her first 100-miler.
We all arrived in Vegas two night before the race. First Jody from Omaha, then Donna, then Lindsay, Mark, and me on a flight together. I arranged for Jody to be able to check-in to the Hard Rock Hotel since she would arrive first. We surprised Jody when we got to the room where she was patiently waited. We all walked in and introduced ourselves, and then there was Mark. I was surprised because the room was pretty small, and it was against fire codes to add a cot to the room. Donna and Mark tried to get another room, but the Hard Rock claimed it was sold out, which seemed unlikely. Jody took the floor after we called on guest services three times to get more blankets and pillows. I guess it wasn’t too comfortable, because she spent most of the night roaming the casino. I don’t know that she tried her hand at any of the slots, but she napped by the outdoor pool and worked out when the in the gym opened.
In the morning we picked up the car, which needed an upgrade to fit the five of us and our stuff. We were scheduled to pick up a Sentra, but upgraded to a Ford Exploder. I took the driver’s seat and you’d think it was the first time I ever drove. I was privileged to get lessons about keeping my eyes on the road, but I was so excited to see the mountain ranges and outdoor scenery in the states of Vegas, Arizona, and Utah. I was a little distracted.
Despite the need for all of the lessons, we made it to Springdale to check in at the Cable Mountain Lodge, just outside of Zion National Park. (It was very nice and worthy of a second trip even without ultra). We all settled in and made it to race registration and the prep meeting at the Virgin Town Park. We chatted with Team Ontario (not a formal team, just all the folks that run OUSER races and happen to be at Zion) and other runners with the same coach. After the presentations, we all headed back to the lodge to eat and get our stuff ready for the big run.
Jody pulled out her binder of maps and crew plans. She knew it all – the distance between each aid station for the runners, the directions the crew would need to get to aid stations, how long (miles and kilometers) each drive was, what the crew would need, etc. I was blown away. So much work! My planning, or lack there of, got us to the hotel, and now that I look back, it appears to be very last minute. This poor planning did not give me or my crew enough time to rest, especially with the time change, the long days of travel, and short sleeps before the race. We discussed what my needs were, firmed up the change of plans as certain aid stations were more or less inaccessible (as we learned at the pre-race meeting), and prepped the gear for the morning.
The night before the race, I’m packing the magic bag with Lindsay and working on the spreadsheet and crew calculations. Our plans have changed drastically, complicated by having to crew two runners of differing speeds from one vehicle, and also eliminating an aid station from our plans. Byron tells us stories of his shoes, their history, the love he has for them, but decides to start with the Inov8 245 shoes that I brought for him. We promise to bring the shoe bag with the others. We also have a conversation about pooping that grosses Mark out and so we stop. Everyone eats Kraft Dinner (not called that in the US, we just call it Mac & Cheese from the blue box) and goes to bed. I’m on a cot in the kitchen reading the race (Ultra Adventures) website/ twitter/facebook before falling asleep for a few hours.
4 am came all too early and it was time to try to get the machine running. I ate my normal breakfast of bacon and eggs, and got suited up. We drove to Virgin and froze as we waited for the start.
BAM – we were off.
<jody> 5am- We leave for Virgin in the dark with Mark driving and arrive at Virgin Town Park to a small crowd that gets bigger and bigger. Lindsay hands me a cup of coffee. It’s cold and gross so we toss it. We take some pictures, Byron is chatting with running dudes, everyone’s using bathrooms, composting toilets on trailers, and then it’s time to line up for the start. Something that is funny is that RD Matt Gunn is wearing his little Chihuahua, Nacho, in a satchel. Everyone starts to move so I head to the start and I’m the first person just to the right side of the starting line. I take a video of the start and manage to call out to both Byron and Donna as they embark on their journey. Me saying “Go Byron!” makes it so “Work the shaft” (referring to his method of administering a Hammer Gel into his mouth spill-free) is no longer the last thing I say to him before his race.
6am- After the start of Zion 100, The Crew (me, Mark, Lindsay) drives back to Springdale. Mark takes a nap on the couch and the girls go to the market to buy coffee filters. We make coffee, pack a few things we think may be useful, relax for a few moments, and then wake up Mark to head to the first aid station. The sun has come up and it’s a gorgeous day in the desert.
At the start I tried to keep my pace conservative. I knew I was in it for the long haul. My legs were screaming at me for the first 4 miles and that made me nervous. My training runs this year never presented this problem (I had ongoing issues with tight calves last summer). So I tried slowing down a little bit more. People were flying past me, and my new pace didn’t seem to help my calves. At the 4 mile mark, we started the first climb up the side of the mesa, and I never thought about my calves again.
At the start I tried to keep my pace conservative. I knew I was in it for the long haul. My legs were screaming at me for the first 4 miles and that made me nervous. My training runs this year never presented this problem (I had ongoing issues with tight calves last summer). So I tried slowing down a little bit more. People were flying past me, and my new pace didn’t seem to help my calves. At the 4 mile mark, we started the first climb up the side of the mesa, and I never thought about my calves again.
When I got up to the first aid station atop the Flying Monkey mesa I switched out a bottle that had my GU Brew in it for some Tailwind to see what this stuff was all about. It seemed to be a pretty popular brand in the US, so probably pretty good stuff. Well, as I was running the around the top of the mesa I got the chance to drink it… and you will never catch me drinking that shit again. Case in point as to why you ALWAYS plan your hydration and electrolyte strategy.
On completing the loop I started my descent down Flying Monkey mesa where I caught up with Melanie, she was a little nervous heading down. We were alongside terrifying cliffs, amazing views, and if heights aren’t your thing, the section would have you dropping bricks, a lot of them. I tried to help her out by just doing what I do best, talk and talk and talk. Once we made it down we continued talking about our race experiences and the strategy she used to finish Haliburton when a sun-beaten lady took her circa 80’s headphones off and said, “that’s not the right strategy”
Melanie turned to the woman and asked, “Are you Pam Reed?”
“You’re a legend!”
Well I didn’t know who this legend was, so I apologized for my ignorance, and was filled in on ultra running history.
“So can you give me some advice” I asked the legend.
She was happy to talk about the 100-miler and here is her advice: “The first 50 miles shouldn’t feel like work. If it does, then you need to slow down. Never use speed bursts to pass people. If you can’t pass them in your cruising gear, then don’t.” We chatted with her for a while, but Melanie and I picked up the pace a little, and before we knew it we were at the second aid station, first one where I’d see my crew..
As I was coming in to the aid station (AS), Jody was out on the trail a bit, ready for me, and asked if I wanted Tailwind or Gu Brew. I put my order in and she bbm’d my wife so that my bottles would be ready with upon my arrival. I got the royal treatment, actually, I thought I was in the ring. I was getting wiped down with wet wipes to clean the salt off my skin, and getting a cool cloth on my neck, I changed my socks, and got whatever food I wanted. Then after a 5-minute stay, they sent me off to climb up Guacamole mesa.
8:40am- We arrive at Dalton Wash, park along the road, and walk up and find a spot across from the AS. Lindsay sits and waits for me to find out if Byron wants to continue with Tailwind or have her mix up some GU Brew. I head up where the runners come down Flying Monkey Trail. I actually hear Byron before we see him – he’s talking to Melanie and the first thing he says when I ask what he wants to drink is “GU BREW!! Tail wind tastes like SHIT!!” I bbm the message to Lindsay. She says she could see Byron from a mile away because of his unique running form.
Mile15/24 KM: Byron comes in to Dalton Wash for the first time. Time is approximately 9:10am, his expected time. Lindsay fills 2 bottles with GU Brew, I take the trash out of his pack, replace a few Hammer gels, spray him with sunscreen, and he takes off toward Guacamole. He takes a glance at the aid station table and sees the sweets, not sure if he took anything. This exchange is very quick and easy. He’s within minutes of his projected 21h finishing time.
It was a long haul along a dirt road. I was fully saturated by the strong sun. I kept up a decent pace, I was passing some folks and generally greeting and chatting with them briefly. As I was catching up to this one woman I asked her, “How many 100’s have you done?”
“I’m not much of a talker” she replies. I was in a good mood and I understood where she was coming from so I laughed it off and told her that it was no problem and focused on moving right along. Maybe she felt bad about being short with me because all of a sudden I hear the word “18”.
“I’ve done 18 100-milers” she confirmed. We chatted a bit more and asked a couple of questions, the basics, you know. “Where are you from?” etc etc. I carried on.
Upon getting to the top of the Guacamole mesa we met the next challenge, slickrock. As we booted around this mesa, I overheard other runners mention that people used to have to run this section at night; poor fuckers. I couldn’t imagine running around on that mesa at night. For the record, slickrock ain’t slick. It’s kinda like granite. I liken it to Peggy’s Cove, if you’ve ever been there, then you’ll know what I mean. The coast is all granite with major cracks, it is eroded by the powerful and angry ocean pounding relentlessly. As a result, there are weird shapes and pools all over the somewhat smooth (though not polished smooth) rock surface. As I child, I remember running along the massive rocks, hopping up and down from one rock to another. The comparison came to me as I was bumping along, climbing up 4 or 5 feet, then jumping down, hopping over a crevice, short step, long step, up step, down step, it was fun, but tiring. Running on the slickrock is challenging, but even more challenging was following the “trail”. As we were literally running on a massive rock, there was no beaten trail in the dirt. Instead it was a series of spray painted dots, sometimes arrows, the occasional pink flag, or a cairn. More often than not, I found myself coming to a complete stop as I needed to look around for the next marker. Runners were catching up to me, and while it was nice to be able to follow people rather than looking around for the markers, this proved to be a little demoralizing.
I finished my tour of the mesa and started back to the Dalton Wash AS for the second time. I noticed my heart rate was in the mid 150’s, which wouldn’t have raised eyebrows if it wasn’t for the fact that I was running between 7- 8 minute/km. At that pace I should have been around 130 bpm, sometimes even lower. I wasn’t the only one trying to figure out the heat and dryness. I came across this tall dude, he was trying to keep up a good running pace but would have to stop and walk, and sometimes even bending over. I think he mentioned he had a cramp. I had extra fluids, and knowing we were approaching the AS, I offered him salt or fluid. He thanked me but declined. Funny thing is that I was coaching him to stay hydrated, slow down, and take it easy. As it turns out, he had a little more experience than I do.
Mile 30.5/48.8 KM: It’s hot now and it’s full on sun. Byron comes into Dalton Wash for the second time at approximately 12:20pm. The first thing he says is “I need to take a shit!” so I grab his pack and take it back to the crew and he heads to the composting toilet. We fill 2 bottles of GU Brew, fill gels, place salt tabs in the bitch pocket, we wipe his body with the wet wipes, and spray him with sunscreen. He decides to change socks but keeps the same shoes. I give him my GOATz buff and a small Brooks towel for a cooling device because it is hot. He’s a bit of a diva as he sits there as we take care of him and he orders us around. We are very entertaining to some of the other crews nearby. Byron is doing well and takes off towards Virgin. We know we won’t make it to him in time to see him at Goosebump AS the first time, but we know we’ll see him the second time through after he gets to see the beauty of the view from Gooseberry Point.
I made it back to the Dalton Wash AS, I cleaned up and after 10 minutes I started my journey to the Goosebump AS. I was feeling great, things seemed to be moving well, I was on track for my 24-hour completion. I was in the zone and running down the highway. There was a section that was being fixed up and only one lane was open. A pacing truck was leading cars in either direction and when the driver of the truck noticed me he honked at me.
“Hey – you missed the turnoff back there” he said to me.
“Ah shit” I blasted out.
“Sorry man” he said as he left me in my shame.
“Not your fault. Thanks for letting me know.” I turned around and headed for the turn. I lost a solid kilometer. In the long run (ha ha), I guess one kilometer isn’t a big deal. Still, it was just another time that I went off track and spent precious energy unnecessarily.
I crossed the desert floor and made my way to the steepest and longest climb of the race – up 1154 feet over a 2 km stretch to the Goosebump aid station. At first, I was taking the hill too aggressively and my heart rate would spike. The sun was pounding down on us and it made that much more difficult. I met Josh mid climb and then left him behind as I got into my groove; slow consistent and minimalistic steps. I kept an eye on my heart rate to ensure it was steady in the high 140’s.
We were informed at the pre-race meeting that the drive from Dalton Wash AS to Goosebump AS would actually be longer than the run. As planned, I check-in at the Goosebump AS, and since there was no crew, I grabbed a couple of bites and some Tailwind (did I mention that I think this stuff is completely disgusting?) and I was on my way after 2 minutes.
Mile 35.5/56.8KM: From what I read off the volunteer’s checklists, Byron came through Goosebump AS1 at 1:49pm. We are not at the location at that time. On route to Goosebump, the crew makes a few stops: to check race headquarters for GU Brew for Donna, to get gas, and to pick up some lunch at ALbert’s Mexican in Hurricane UT. I order rice and also a chicken enchilada, which I decide not to eat after looking at it (not a good pre-run meal). After an hour-long, bumpy, slow, dusty drive, we finally arrive on a road with a ton of vehicles at 3:50pm. We end up parking far away and walk up to Goosebump AS carrying as many items as possible. We of course, don’t even think about bringing Byron’s giant grocery bag of shoes…
I was getting tired and my legs were much less responsive than when I started (pretty obvious eh?). As I was running along, I noticed that we were running along the edge of the cliff. I joked with others by saying “don’t trip”, but it is honestly a very serious warning. I heeded my own advice and switched to a power walk when the trail brought us right along the edges. I couldn’t and won’t complain about this. It was along these trails that you had the opportunity to take brief moments and absorb the vast valley in between the mesas. I don’t know how to articulate the feeling of looking out over the desert floor except to say that it has some power over you. Is it spiritual? Who knows, I guess it makes you feel like you are looking over something very special and unique.
As I was getting close to completing the loop back to Goosebump, I started running and chatting with another Pam. Talking with her was a nice distraction since most of the loop was on slickrock. So we had two pairs of eyes looking for markers. It’s so funny because I will see her again at Fat Dog in August. Turns out she was in the Zion 100k race and was testing her fitness in preparation for the 120 mile challenge in BC.
My run was slowing down, when I started to hear people, and, it really seemed like the aid station was right around the corner. At one point, I knew it was about a kilometer away and my pace just picked right up. It’s amazing how, provided the right motivation, you can get your body to move no matter how badly you hurt. In this case, I was motivated by seeing my crew and sitting my ass down.
I was anxious to swap out my shoes because my feet were aching so badly. Jody was out on the trail waiting, so I handed her my pack and parked myself in the chair. I followed up by demanding for a change of shoes.
“Which ones do you want” Lindsay asked nicely.
“I’m not going with the centerfolds, I need the special edition girls on my feet.” I said.
“The shoes are in the truck” mentions Mark.
I was pissed, I snapped right back at them “What the fuck are they in the truck for?”
“What do you want to eat” asks the sister wife, Jody.
“Just get me a plate of food! Can you take my shoes off? I can’t bend the fuck over.” I reply.
After a nearly 40 minute break, I got up and started to walk slowly to get the legs moving. Jody walked with me for a bit and offered support and we covered the the distance to the next aid station, distance to next crew point, and when I would see her next. The next time I would see her would be when she would actually accompany me on the trail and start pacing me. We snapped some selfies and then I was off to Grafton Mesa AS.
Mile 47.5/76 KM: The crew is still at Goosebump when Byron comes in on the edge of the mesa around 5:00 pm. This was way longer than expected, but it was as tough as I had read about, and all novice runners on this course underestimated how long it would take to run the loop at the top of Gooseberry mesa. He comes in exhausted & hot and knows he has to cool off before leaving. Byron checks in and finds our spot in the shade. When I ask him what he needs besides he makes a gesture with his hands and says, “I want a big plate of food!” I went into the tent to raid the aid station. They don’t have plates, but I grab a few cups and fill them up with ice, sandwiches, fruit, and all sorts of snacks. I wipe off his legs, arms, neck and applied sunscreen. Luckily for us, he ices his own balls. The funny thing is he takes the neighbors cutting board and spreads out all the food on it. He wants his North Face shoes and is pissed that we don’t have the pageant bag of shoes. Mark runs to the car to get the shoe bag, and he makes Lindsay take his shoes and socks off his feet. When she can’t get the clean socks back on his feet, she hands the job over to me. Anyone who knows me knows I am a hater of all things feet, but I am called up to bat. With slight hesitation, I grab the socks and pulled with all my might. I get frustrated and yell, “Do these socks even fit on your baby man feet?” Byron yells back something to me about how great his feet are. It is a funny banter and I am glad that he is still himself and in good spirits. I think this is when he wipes his own face and gets the fuzz from the wipes stuck in his stubble. There are so many humorous things happening in this transition. After a few moments of pace/distance calculations, I decide to stay at Goosebump AS in case the crew can’t (crew Donna at Grafton Mesa and) get back before Byron can. We also plan for him to carry everything he needs in case it gets dark before he can see the crew again (in case Donna is too late coming into Goosebump and the crew misses Byron at Grafton Mesa AS his first time through). We pack his long sleeved shirt, gloves, headlamps and extra batteries into his pack. We put ice in all the bottles (he ended up taking 3 bottles and was weighed down), refill Hammer gels and salt tabs. I run him out of the aid station and we head down the road together towards Grafton Mesa. We take a selfie of us between the cars on the side of the road and it seems to be getting cooler. He hands me the wet towel and heads down the road. The next time I would see him would be when my pacing job would start.
When I run back to Goosebump AS, Donna is in and Mark and Lindsay are crewing her. I don’t remember any details, but I walk her out of the aid station and down the road and do the run down with her about the crew and upcoming aid stations. When she’s out of sight, I get to the vehicle and get the things I need to run with Byron. I change into my Brooks Pure Grit shoes, take my hoodie, hat, gloves, gaiters, buff, water bottle, Garmin watch, and two headlamps. Mark and Lindsay come to the car while I’m getting ready and tell me they left a bag of food and my camping chair in our spot. I do some final calculations and leave them with the paperwork. They tell me to wear pants, so I grab my Lululemon Studio Pants (not running pants). It feels weird to separate from the crew, but if Byron is moving too fast or Donna too slow, it’s the best option. They take off in the car and I don’t plan to see them until Virgin Aid Station hours later, when I’m with Byron.
It was a long road, a dirt road. It was dry, dusty, and filled with plenty of traffic. My nose got plugged with dirt. I was picking the cement-like snot out of my nose so I could breath. I noticed that the dirt caused my nose to bleed a little since my boogers were slightly bloody. I was losing my mind. The drivers of the cars had no concern for the dust they kicked up. What was more baffling was that most of the cars contained crews for the runners. I should have listened to Matt Gunn (Race Director) and taken something to filter the air, like a buff or something similar.
I finally made it to Grafton AS where I got some food and took another break. I mean, I was about 85 km in and really slowing down. My mental state was suffering. I was thinking:
What the hell am I doing here?
Why am I doing this stupid race?
Why am I signed up for Fat Dog? I will never be able to do that! I can barely do this stupid race.
What the FUCK!?
Well after feeling sorry for myself for 12 minutes, I got up, pushed those feelings aside and pressed on. I focused on getting to the next AS, Cemetery AS.
At this point I was mostly running again. I caught up to Andi, the woman who wasn’t so chatty on the road up to the Guacamole mesa.
She called out to me “Is that you Ontario?”
Andi, as it turns out, really does like to chat. I think when I first bumped into her, she may have been in a rough spot. But I can assure you, that provided the right conditions, you are happy to talk to just about anyone, and now it was my turn. I was grumpy considering we were only half way through this beast of a distance and I felt like there was no end in sight. I didn’t really feel like talking at this point, but she was helping me move forward. We got to the start of the descent to Cemetery AS. We could see it on the valley floor, it seemed so far away. so far out of reach… “WHAT THE FUCK” – this race is never going to end. “FUCK MY LIFE!”
The Cemetery AS had the best food of them all. I didn’t want to leave, but Andi had different plans. So after a 9 minute break I got out of the chair and we started back to the Grafton Mesa. About a quarter of the way up, we had to get our headlamps out as the sun fell. Atop the mesa again, we twisted and turned through the dry vegetation and wondered how much longer it would be until we got to the AS.
We were a group of runners with a couple of miles to get back to Grafton Mesa AS. We were all very anxious to get to it so that we could recharge. This time I was 12 minutes in the seat. I was in a better mood than the last time. I got some food, cursed, but was anxious because at least I knew the road back to Goosebump. It would be a good distance, but a familiar one. There would be no wondering how much longer. There would be no wondering where I was going. I knew I would just walk up the road to the top of the hill, turn right and it would be a “fairly flat” run to my pacer.
Mile 62.5/100 KM: Lindsay and Mark are still at Grafton Mesa crewing for Byron and Donna. Byron got to Grafton Mesa for the second time at 9:48 pm because my phone has a bbm from Lindsay that reads “9:48. He’s on his way. He’s tired. But body seems good.” My phone is dead so I don’t receive it. I’m still at Goosebump, so I’m not going anywhere.</jody>
I got back to the Goosebump AS after cursing about a truck that was pacing and muling for one of the runners. I considered informing a race official, but I didn’t say anything about it. Really, if you can’t do it without a car, then that is on you. Whatever… I stumbled in and sat down in a chair in the food tent. It was dark and getting cold. The tent had delicious food and it was heated. I think I apologized to whomever the chair belonged to, but they let me stay there. Jody found me and crouched beside me. I was in pain and a little delirious. I thanked her for pacing me and started petting her face with appreciation for her sacrifice. I got some more ramen and ate as much as I could stand. My quads were killing me. I couldn’t imagine how I was going to go down the 1154 foot descent down the mesa. I was not in any hurry.
Lindsay and Mark appeared out of nowhere, I was shocked. That meant Donna wasn’t far behind. It didn’t make much sense to me because I was looking out for her as I climbed up the mesa but I never saw her on any of the pathways where there was two-way traffic. We must have passed each other not realizing it.
Mile 68.5/109.6 KM: I was at Goosebump AS for 7 hours total, alone for about 5.5 hours. During this time I sat and chatted with the Folsom Trail Runners from California, watched the most beautiful sunset from Gooseberry Mesa, hung out with some dudes that were making videos with drones, checked out the top part of the trail that we would descend into the Virgin Desert, sat and stoked the fire, helped out in the aid station with Matt Gunn’s mom, and waited and waited for Byron to show up. It was so dark and I expected it to be him each time I saw a runner’s headlamp. I was in the aid station when in stumbles a runner. I don’t notice that it’s Byron until I read his bib number to the volunteer “162”. The time is a little after 11pm. Zombie Byron stumbles into the tent and plops himself down in the middle on a camping chair that was the check-in volunteer’s chair (she had just gotten up for a minute). He is tired and cold. I start massaging his quads and they’re trashed. He wants ramen and broth, he tells me what to do with the bottles and replace one bottle (Lindsay mixed before she left) and mix the leftovers from two other bottles into just one. I put a ziplock bag of GU Brew powder mix into his pack. I want to know what I should wear for this pacing gig because I normally run in shorts. He tells me he’s shuffling and walking so I decide to keep my hoodie, but leave the pants. As I’m running around doing things for Byron and stripping off my clothes, Mark and Lindsay show up in the aid station. Boy, am I happy to see my sister wife! They help me get Byron moving, as it seems like he could stay forever. I know that we start out of the aid station together at 11:42pm according to my Garmin.
I guess I was kicked out or dragged out of Goosebump because I was on my ass for a good reason. I was on my butt for 20 minutes and I bet you I could have stayed there all night. As we walked to the trail down to get off the top of the mesa, Jody called out to a runner that missed the trail but was looking for a way down.
“Who are you” It was Andi. She had an unmistakable Tennessee accent and had a feisty way of talking.
“Are you the one I was mean to?” She got it right, apparently Jody handed her some soup that was way too hot to drink. Jody hadn’t tasted it, and was just lending a helping hand, she wasn’t one of the volunteers. Andi joined us as we were stepping carefully down the trail. She heard my voice and put it all together.
“Your pacer is a guuurl!?” bewildered.
Nothing wrong with that I thought, and there shouldn’t be right? I continued down the path, sidestepping, it was the easiest, and slowest way down. My legs just weren’t moving no matter how hard I wanted to run. Once we were down the mesa we started to ‘run’, until I realized that Jody was walking while I ‘ran’. I blurted out a “Fuck this” and continued to “power walk”. No sense in wasting energy if I can’t even run faster than I can walk.
Coming down it’s dark, steep, rocky and dangerous. We are warm on the descent but it gets super chilly when we hit the rolling hills at the bottom. It is definitely not as flat as we were expecting and we’re moving very slow, not fast enough to generate the heat we need to stay warm. We’re walking as fast as Byron’s quads can take us. His legs are shot. The 8 miles to Virgin Desert AS is super long and cold and we’re convinced us Canadians are going to die of hypothermia in the Utah desert. We decide that we’re going to wait for Mark and Lindsay to pile on our clothes. We get to the aid station we just park our asses by the fire and defrost a bit.
We made our way to the Virgin Desert AS, the last AS we would visit, albeit we would visit this AS 4 times! We tried to keep up the pace so that we would generate heat. It was futile! No way this Canadian could figure out how or why the desert was so cold.
We got to the AS and no crew in sight. I didn’t care, I wanted to warm up. I plopped my tired ass in front of the fire. Practically asleep, my wife came about and asked what I needed. “We need warm clothes” at which point we learned that Mark gave Donna Jody’s pants. ” What the fuck did you do that for!”. I was pissed off, sabotage, interference, those were the clothes of my pacer. What the hell! Thankfully Jody kept her head in the game and suited up with some super fashionable jeans. Luckily for me, Lindsay got me to bring my running jacket which I wore overtop of my Haliburton hoody. I really didn’t plan for coldness like this and so I didn’t pack any running pants. I grabbed my Roots sweat pants and rolled up so I didn’t walk on the ends of the legs. I finished of my chic look with the G.O.A.T.z Buff, left my hydration pack and took my handheld in its place. We left to start the red loop.
Mile 76.5/122.4 KM: We get to Virgin Desert AS slow and tired and parked by the fire. We don’t know where Lindsay is but we’re too tired and cold to look. I go into the tent to grab food for Byron (Ramen and a bean burrito). Lindsay finds us and shows me where the vehicle and then brings all Byron’s clothes to him. I see Mark and he says, “Donna is wearing your pants”. I don’t know if I even felt mad for a second. My cold brain turns to my luggage that I have in the back of the Explorer. I start to rummage in the back. Mark feels bad and offers me his jeans. I tell him that I have my own and I pull them out of my bag. I also pull out every single long sleeve layer of clothing in the bag. I pull my jeans over my running shorts; I take off my hoodie and put a long sleeved layer over my tank top and arm sleeves. I throw on my long sleeve zip up jacket, then the hoodie over top, AND then I add the thinnest rain jacket in the world (but I’m all about layering man). I look fucking ridiculous! Lindsay takes Byron the clothes that he wore to the start of the race to see if he wants to layer with those, he ends up wearing his long sleeved shirt, a green hoodie, a black jacket, and his sweat pants, rolled up at the bottom. We were quite the sight! Thank goodness it was dark! But we were freezing and we needed to get warm and start the first loop – The Red Loop. Byron drops his pack and takes a handheld water bottle. I take nothing. My Garmin starts at 3:08am when we leave Virgin Desert AS for the first time. This would be the lowest point of the race.
I don’t remember much on this loop. Jody was pissed off in a good-humored way, and it’s dark out and she couldn’t see anything. Really, it wasn’t scary or anything, just a total pain in the ass that you couldn’t see anything. I think Jody was chit chatting with me, but I was grumpy and grunting responses while I tried to stay in good humor. I stumbled around barely keeping my balance and I hear:
“Maybe we should take a nap” Jody suggested.
Before she could even turn around I found a spot on the ground. My feet were in the trail. She harassed me to move them out of the way so I wouldn’t get pissed on or walked on, probably the latter… “OK – let’s go” I said as I pushed myself up. Jody said that I slept for 3 minutes and was snoring and all. She talked about how she stayed up with the light on as people passed me by. I guess they asked if I was alright, I was, I was better than alright. Poor girl, stayed up to make sure I would get pissed on. If I were the pacer I’d likely have fallen asleep.
The red loop is Five Miles of Hell because we are so tired after being up for 24h. I can’t imagine what Byron feels like after being on THIS course for all of this time. I feel like the worst pacer ever because I didn’t take a nap, but I didn’t feel comfortable enough to doze off waiting at Goosebump and I needed to help Lindsay and Mark crew during the day. The course is hard to follow in the dark because everything looks the same. I swear we are on a desert/tumbleweed treadmill. It’s all the same, hard dirt ground, dust in the headlamp, tumbleweed all around, can’t see anything and it looks like we’re just going to go off a cliff. We just can’t get away. It’s so boring and we are doing a death march of about 23-25 mph. I am in front leading and I’m trying my best not to get too far in front. He starts complaining about his legs, and at times he’s barely moving. I don’t really worry until he stops talking. He tells me he can’t do downhills very well. It kills me when he says “I WANT to run so bad…. but I can’t.” He tells me that the “My stomach is fucked up because of that bean burrito!” Things aren’t looking so good. I come up with the idea that we should rest for a bit at the next pass through Virgin Desert AS, but I only have to say, “Maybe we should take a nap…” and Byron is down on the ground ready to nap. By some miracle he’s not lying in a cactus and the ground is soft red dirt. I tell him his legs are on the trail and he moves them ever so slightly. He ends up lying parallel to the trail and within seconds he’s snoring. I’m worried that someone is going to pee on him or trip on him because he’s that close to the trail. I turn my headlamp off and it’s like I’m blind. There is no light. I turn my headlamp back on and shine it on him. In the three minutes that he’s asleep about 8 people pass us. It’s crazy and I’m sure it was real. He wakes himself up and we start moving again, barely though – slow, boring, quiet, and I start hallucinating…seeing tumbleweed creatures, human shadows in rocks & trees, hearing noises (my rain jacket), snakes in cow patties, etc. I know it’s not real, but I’ve never been so tired in my life. We even come up on cow gates that are not closed and we struggle together to close them behind us. We decide that once back at the AS, we will eat and sleep until the sun comes out. I ask Byron what he would wish for if he had one wish. He says, “To be done.” I ask if he wishes: 1) we were at mile 100? or 2) that the race only has 81 miles? He says he can’t answer that. My one wish is that we would be walking on soft cushy grass instead of this hard dusty trail.
We got back the AS and Jody and I made plans to eat and take a nap. As soon as I got to the AS I headed for the cots, found myself a sleeping bag and a cot. I slept for 45 minutes.
I got up, I think I may have gotten some food, don’t remember, my wife scrambled to get Jody and we started off to complete the white loop. The white loop was a lot like the red loop, for the most part, dark and cold – just a plate full of shit. We started out on the white loop and we crossed by Pam Reed on the two way traffic section.
“Oh hikers!” she said a little shocked, I guess that hikers would be out so early. Jody and I thought it was funny. I guess we must have looked like fools, people that go to the gym in their jeans, or people that ski in their jeans.
We carried along the trail. I was feeling better. I must have been because earlier on the red loop Jody asked me, if I could have one thing at that moment, what would it be? I answered that I would want to be done the race. For some reason the thought came back into my mind and I offered another answer.
“You know, all I want is to have the sun come up and for it to be warm again.”
We were just coming in on the final stretch of the white loop and by some magic Lindsay was waiting for us with her BlackBerry. She was snapped some pics of us as we completed, as she put it, our “walk of shame.” We spent 15 minutes at the AS this time, as I ate some bacon, and other delicious food. I shed all my layers and replenished my handheld. We hit the blue loop.
Mile 81.2/129.9 KM: Back at Virgin Desert, Lindsay meets us and Byron walks into the tent with cots, crawls under a sleeping bag. I discuss with Lindsay about who should keep watch and who should go to the vehicle to keep warm up. She is so cold and tired and says Mark is sleeping in the front seat. She tells me to ask him how long he wants to sleep. I go to the tent to ask him but he’s dead asleep, snoring so loudly we can hear him from outside the tent! Lindsay says we’ll let him sleep for 30 minutes and we’ll tell him he slept for 45 minutes (she’s a genius). She says she’ll keep watch and encourages me to get to the car. I crawl under Mark’s reclined seat and it’s so warm. I plug in my dead phone and bbm Lindsay to let me know when Byron wakes up. I fall asleep hard and wake up to a message 9-minutes later notifying me that Byron is up. I head to the AS and grab Byron a pancake, stick two Fig Newtons in a ziplock bag, and fill an empty bottle with some beverage for myself. We leave for the White loop and hope for the sun to come out. Lindsay tells me the sun will be out soon and that it will be rejuvenating. She’s giving me mileage for the loops now, and taking care of the both of us. Byron brings his handheld and we’re still in our ridiculous outfits. I take my almost dead phone and tell Lindsay that I’ll bbm our location before it dies again so she knows when to expect us. My Garmin starts at 6:07am when we leave Virgin Desert AS for the second time.
The White Loop is the Tumbleweed Maze. We can see headlamps all over, in all directions, mostly in pairs all around us. The trail is flat and in the middle of the desert, utilizing lots of bike trails. Byron retracts his Red Loop wish and says he “wishes for the sun to come out”. The only drawback to the sunlight is that we’re dressed like idiots. This is when we power walk head first into ultrarunner and legend, Pam Reed, who says, “Oh, you’re just hikers.” This encounter is super amusing to us. We have this kind of conversation: Jody: “I make fun of people who work out in jeans!” Byron: “Me too!” We walk & talk & eat a Fig Newton each. It starts to get warm so we get excited as we prepare to shed some layers next pass through the aid station. He’s wearing what I called, “flood sweats” and I’m wearing “moisture-wicking pacing jeans.” I feel like I’m a mom out shopping in a rain jacket. My shorts are all bunched up in my crotch and we talk about how dudes wear boxers under their jeans (I guess those jeans need to be pretty baggy). Mine are not baggy. We’re in good spirits and the sun is just what we ordered. Our plan for the aid station is to drop layers, go to the bathroom, eat some food, and get going. As we complete the White Loop we see the 50K runners sprinting by, at the same moment, Lindsay yells out “Walk of shame” and snaps one of the funniest photos I’ve ever seen. We look like we’re out for a weekend desert stroll. Our outfits are so crazy and we can’t help but laugh at ourselves.
Mile 87.1/139.4 KM: Not sure what time we get to Virgin Desert AS for the third time In the AS tent, I run into Andi from Tennessee and say hello to her since it she obviously doesn’t know what I look like in the daylight. Her response is hilarious: “I thought that was you….but what the FUCK ya’ doin’ wear’n jeans??!!!” I take off the jeans, lose the winter hat, and remove the top three layers. Mark & Lindsay help Byron delayer & apply sunscreen. Byron grabs some salt tabs & a bottle of water. I refilled my bottle up with water and grab a Carnation Breakfast drink for Byron. We head for the Blue Loop in great spirits. I forget to start my watch when we start this third loop, so I’m not sure of the times.
We started the blue loop with a power walk and soon I was able to get in short bouts of running. It felt good. Then we got to the top of a little incline…“and we’re done. I don’t know where that came from” I said. We continued to power walk and finally came across some brilliant scenery. Don’t know why it didn’t occur to us to snap a pic here, but Jody came to appreciate the humour in my statement, “Be sure you don’t trip”. We literally walked on the edge of a cliff where the drop was straight down, and was at least 200 feet or more.
We came around a corner where we could see straight across a small valley. We spotted a chick that we were catching up to. She would be known to us as Run-Walk Girl because we watched her muster up a short bout of running followed by crawling walk. We maintained a power walk pace as soon as we spotted her, while we may have covered a kilometer or so, by the time we reached a fork in the path, we went left to pass her while she took the right side. As the pathways rejoined, she was now behind us.
We kept walking along, looking for the path to turn back toward the AS. We knew exactly where we needed to end up, but it seemed to us that the path was taking us on a crazy milk run – so close to civilization, and then we would switchback and turn to walk farther away from the AS.
Finally the path started to make sense as we took a left turn. There it was, off in the horizon it seemed. As we walked towards the aid station, I had the sudden urge and rather urgent need to poop. I was looking around the desert floor and was hoping that I could find somewhere to grin and bare it. Nowhere seemed appropriate, there was just sparse tumbleweed surrounding us. Squeezing my cheeks, we finally made it to the AS and got to unload. Feeling a lot more relaxed, I grabbed a bit of food, waited around for something, (not sure what). Our last stop was 16 minutes total.
The Blue Loop is Beautiful Redemption for that stupid Red Loop from Hell. The only downside is that it is neverending and seems like it takes us so far away from the aid station. Byron isn’t a fan of the Carnation Breakfast drink so I hold it for the entire loop. It’s warm and we both finish our drinks and try to conserve our energy. Byron starts to bust out these short burst of run mixed into our power walking. We start to play a stalking game with Run-Walk Girl and catch her quite easily and Byron thinks it’s because she’s the slowest walker on the planet. The single-track loop is really awesome, along the cliff, and has the most beautiful views. We start to hit weekend mountain bike traffic when we’re in sight of the aid station. Byron says, “I need to poop!” We contemplate letting him go, but he refuses my paper towel, and there is nowhere safe (cactus) and discreet (desert) for him to let the turtle out.
Mile 94/150.4 KM: We get to Virgin Desert for the fourth and final time! Finally arriving at the mirage and we get packed and ready for the last stretch. Byron takes his poop. I am now stripped down to my tank top and I apply a layer of sunscreen to my other dirt-sunscreen layers. I pick up my coconut water for the last 6 miles. Byron stays in his long sleeve, puts the wet towel on his head under his white cap, and decides to use the pack again with the bottles. Mark decides to accompany Donna for the last 6 miles so Lindsay is going to meet us at the finish line and leave Mark behind. Before saying goodbye to the Virgin Desert AS, I pick up two slices of watermelon, wish the best to fellow Omahan, Eric, and set my eyes on the pink flags to the finish.
I was so happy to be on our way back to town. I was having trouble though because a lot of this part was downhill or stepping down. My quads were is such bad shape that I asked (more likely demanded) that Jody what up so I could use her as a crutch to get down anything steep. We motored along nearly getting run over by mountain bikers. They seemed to forget that they had to yield to pedestrians anyway, never mind that we were in a 100 mile race. As far as I was concerned, they could suck it, if they weren’t gonna move, neither was I. I was already in a world of hurt, so I had nothing to lose. Actually, most of the time I would just step aside cause it was easy enough to do, but when it wasn’t, I didn’t, that’s when I applied my bad ass attitude.
We were moving along, quite slowly, then we saw her, run-walk girl. Jody was pissed. She turned to me, insisted that we catch up. I agreed with her saying that we could walk as fast as she could, and if I could keep up, I would. We twisted and turned with the trail and we were gaining ground on her, again. Then something came over me, like I was in the Matrix or something fucked up like that. I tapped Jody on the left shoulder, signaled for her to move over, and made another Cobra like gesture as to say, “I got you.” I started to run. Then we passed run-walk girl, I ran faster, shivers tingled up my back. Adrenaline powered me up a hill, down the road, passing a family and then another. They cheered for me. We continued running up a hill, took a short break, and then back into a run to the top of the road. We were on the highway back to Virgin. Jody suggested at this point that I should let my heart rate slow down a bit. So I did.. 20 steps or something, and then back into a run. The end was near… just down the road a bit. Jody was worried that I wouldn’t be able to hold the pace and advised that I pace myself. I complied, a bit. We kept on. I could see my wife – she was waiting to snap a picture of us on her BlackBerry. I rounded the corner and headed straight for the chute. Done.
The Final Stretch: My Garmin tells me we left Virgin Desert at 10:26 am. This part of the course is supposed to be half trail and half road to finish at the same park that the runners started. Byron makes a comment about how “six miles seems so far away”. I tell him it is far away but that we’re going to get there. This trail part of the leg is amazingly scenic and beautiful right along the Virgin River. It has everything for the senses, including the sunshine and the heat. The runners from the shorter races are running past us quickly and encouraging us. We are shocked when we spy the Run-Walk Girl. This time around she keeps turning and looking at us and doing her lame run-walk technique. Byron is in a lot of pain but he’s pushing through it like a champ. With a little more than three miles left in the race, he taps me on my shoulder and passes me. We take off running. He makes the cobra hand signal and he PASSES the Run-Walk Girl! At the same moment that we pass her, I crouch down and scoop up a small rock to mark this move, this is courage. We keep running, uphill and off of the trail, across the road, and uphill to the highway. People in cars are stopping and cheering for him! I tell him we have 40 minutes to get three miles. He doesn’t stop; in fact he picks up speed. He’s determined and he’s listening to me we run along the highway shoulder and we’re both sweating. I’m saying everything I can think of to keep his spirits up and his mind focused on the finish line. It’s almost over. It’s so exciting watching his tired legs gain strength and rise above any exhaustion. We get to 100w and Lovely Lindsay is there in the street. He turns right and heads towards the park and through the finishing shoot. He finishes at 11:40 am with a time of 29:40:10. He finishes strong and collects his Zion belt buckle, which he earned.
I imagined that when I’d finish I would cry or something. When I watched people finish Haliburton, each person that crossed the line, broke down. I remember that clearly. But it was anti-climactic for me. I finished and I felt relieved, and that’s about it. I took a couple of steps, I was happy with myself and then just let myself collapse (in a way that indicated I was OK) to the ground. Covered my face, but it was too hot. I got up, found a tent and sat in the shade. A volunteer reminded me to get my buckle. Fuck ya, I darted for the buckles.
There is more – Donna arrived an hour later with her hubby. That was nice. Her feet were wrecked. We got in the cold water. soaked for a while. Ate, drank a beer. Headed back to the hotel, cleaned up. Went to the very close pub, ate, sorta, not much of an appetite. Returned to the room, crashed.
There are so many lessons you can pull from the 100 mile. First and foremost: “Respect the distance”. You are in it for a long haul, move your body accordingly. Second, like in life, there are ups and downs, roll with it. Look inside for the inner strength to come out of your funk, know that you will be in a funk at some point. Third, PREPARE for it. Know the course, the food plans, the weather (at all times of the day), yourself, crew stops, how to get to crew accessible aid stations, how long to get to each (for crew and runner)… The list goes on.
I was looking for every excuse I could think of not to register for this race. I emailed my coach hoping that he would be disappointed by the elevation gain, but he was OK with it. If I raced it, I figured I could complete the race in about 5 hours, 3 hours short of my planned training for the day. Coach said make it up before or after the race, maybe run as opposed to race then do an additional 2 hours after the event. I tried looking for outs by seeing how far behind the OUSER leaders I was, only 12 back from the leader having completed only 3 of the 6 races. I waited until a week before the race and emailed the race director hoping there were no camping spots left, but there was one for me. I just couldn’t come up with an excuse that I would feel good about. So I gave in, registered for the race and on Friday evening I packed myself up and left for Creemore.
Once I was there I setup the tent and got cozy. I found some course maps on the exterior wall of the garage and tried to figure out my first run of the day. Pierre, the race directory, was doing some final prep work and as he came by I asked him about the course. I knew right then and there that this was going to be a great experience. He explained the course then took me on a quick tour of his property to show me where I could head off in the morning to get some climbing in. Later that night, a few more campers showed up and Pierre gathered us up, cracked one of the kegs that was donated by the Creemore Springs Brewery and light a bonfire – a perfect way to relax ahead of a busy day of running up and down the Niagara Escarpment.
I woke just before 5 am – I got out of my sleeping bag and got ready for my pre-race run. One of the racers I met the night before was looking to log some more km’s and joined me for the the run. During our run, Shane would talk about how he had “only” run 8 marathons in his lifetime. It was as if he felt he wasn’t worthy. 1 is more than none, and 8 is more than 1, so all good! We ran for 1 hour 35 minutes, clocked 10 km’s and we were feeling good.
It was 7:30 am and the rest of the party showed up. Every time I run another race in the OUSER series, I meet another person and recognize more and more people. I had my pre-race chit chat, met 2 more folks, then we were called to the start. Pierre had his shotgun, and probably bruised his shoulder to mark the start of the 2014 CVC 50 km race.
Since I have been gaining confidence in myself this year, I have started to line up near or at the front of the pack instead of modestly lining up at the back. Seeing as my plan was to run this race at a nice steady pace and clock 6 hours, I don’t know why I didn’t move to the back of the pack. At any rate, we were off and about 3 km in I counted the heads in front of me: 10. Ok, time to be competitive.
The group started in on the first climb. Though, this one would prove to be a very modest slope. Still, my repeats at Blue Mountain and the hill training on the treadmill paid off here. I was able to keep a good pace while some of the pack leaders needed to slow down or walk. I remember red shirt guy I haven’t met at about the 5 km mark. He was still a fair bit ahead, but the real climbing started now. During this early stretch of single track we seesawed along. This was frustrating me because it is difficult to pass people on single track. As the course change from single track to mowed long grass over rolling hills, my competitive ego wisely advised me to bide my time. We were nearing the kilometre long climb (KLC), I figured I would loose him there.
About half way up the KLC I did pass red shirt guy I haven’t met and my sights were set on grey shirt guy I didn’t know and 2nd place guy on the OUSER leader board, an ultra runner from Kitchener, who, I met earlier that morning. Once I crested the KLC, I noticed I actually gained some ground on them. The course brought us through some nice trail that had some gentle ups and downs and then a final hurrah up, and that moment at the 10 km marker was the last time I saw grey shirt guy.
Following that quick trail sequence, was a easy boot down a dirt road to a valley that made me think of the the beloved saddle between Flood and Grand Mountains at the Canadian Death Race. Trail looked like it was for a quad and it had all sorts of loose rock and troughs created by gushing rainwater. I was careful going down the valley to make sure I didn’t loose my footing and then climbed up. As I approached the aid station at approx km 15, 2nd place guy on the OUSER leader board was grabbing some water or something and so I kept on knowing that I was now placed 6th.
That was short lived. 2nd place guy on the OUSER leader board caught right up to me. I decided that I would pace with him for as long as I could. And that was OK for a while as we ran along one of the long dirt road stretchs. As luck would have it, we came to another climb. Here I gained some distance only to loose it on the flat road. Around the km 17, I found his pace relentless and pulled back saving energy for the climbing that I would have to face a second time. 2nd place guy on the OUSER leader board gained some distance on me and that was OK, or at least I was trying to convince myself of that.
I crossed the 25 km mark to complete the first loop and as ran by all the parked cars, there was 2nd place guy on the OUSER leader board and orange shirt guy that was in front of me but is now behind me – 4th place now. I was excited! I have never been in 4th place. Time to kick it up a notch. I pressed on trying not to jinx myself by looking back. Instead I focused on maintaining a steady heart rate and consistent pace. I passed the 10 km marker and proceeded down the valley and then the German kid with a scholarship for cross country skiing and run ultras for entertainment comes barreling along. As the hot seat burned the night before, the German kid sat beside me and we chit chatted. I remember him telling me that he logs something around 25 hours of training compared to my 13 hours (at my peak, about 10 otherwise). Anyway, once he realized he recognized me, he says “Oh, your pretty fast!” Yes his toned was pragmatically shocked. I tried to keep up with him as long as possible, but I don’t think I could even pace him for a km. He was nothing but a memory at about km 16.
From that point on, I ran alone, focused on keeping a good pace and trying not to slow down too much. I managed to stay ahead of 2nd place guy on the OUSER leader board and crossed the finish line after 4:55:09 holding on to 5th place. Fantastic, I just needed to find the beer kegs and pizza so I could make my way to the Mad river.
After I soaked for about 30 minutes, I added up my running times for the day. Then the realization that I only ran for 6 hours 30 minutes set in. I still had to get out there for another hour and a half.
Ottawa is the epicenter for my endurance running. The May weekend marathon has become a little bit of a tradition for me. This year the weekend started on the Friday with a busy afternoon drive up the 401. As we drove to my mums in Ottawa I remember thinking (arrogantly I might add) that the race was going to be easy. After all, unlike the first three events I ran earlier this year, elevation wasn’t going to be a challenge, nor was mud. Suffice it to say I wasn’t really anxious about the race and that I was extremely confident that I would be able to achieve my goal, 3:30:00.
I never appreciated the beauty of the city. Having lived there for 26 years of my life I always lamented that Ottawa wasn’t a fun city. I always compared Ottawa to Toronto, or Montreal, or even Halifax. Now that I have lived in Halifax and now live in Waterloo I miss all of those things I had taken for granted. The bike pathways, the greenspace, the smallness and bigness of the city. All reasons why the marathon is a so nice. It starts on Elgin street by City Hall and it is a tour of only some of the beauty that is Ottawa. You get the Rideau Canal, the renewal of the West end the parkways along the Ottawa river, New Edinburgh, Sussex.
My cavalier attitude towards the race got the best of me. Instead of my regular routine of packing my bag making sure that I stuffed everything I would need into the bag, then unpacking it and double checking. I took a much more “la de da” approach. It wasn’t until I was half sleeping on my mums couch that it dawned on my that I forgot my heart rate monitor – boo.
The morning of the race I decided to do something I never had done before. I trotted around for about 15 minutes hoping that bringing my heart rate up a little and activating my legs would help prevent any muscle tightness challenges. About 5 minutes before the race started I got into the crowded corral along with the 7000 or so other runners. Then we were off.
Everything felt great. I was running 20 seconds per minutes faster than I needed to hit my goal, but it felt great. I couldn’t help but think that I was going to smash my goal, perhaps even qualify for Boston. Almost a dozen kilometres in I realized another error, a result of being indifferent about the race. I forgot to spice things up for the girls. Ha, no – taping of nipples doesn’t really do anything for getting *that* kind of attention from the girls. I was concerned though, chaffing of the nipples is a very bad thing. Nice thing about the Ottawa race is that they have aid stations with Vasoline on a stick. Slap that shtuff on and crisis averted.
At KM 23, I started to realize that I may have been holding on to a pace that was a tad too fast. I wasn’t really my legs, nor a weakness in my cardio prep that led me to consider slowing the pace. It was my feet. They were not happy with me. Made me consider why I was running this race. Made me want to stop. Although stop I could not. I started to do the math. I rationalized how much I could slow down and still meet my target. After some simple calculations I settled on 5:00 minutes per K. It was a pace I felt I could hold and it would still get me to the finish line under my goal.
So there I was, running, trying to keep my focus on at least a 5:00 minute pace and absorbing the experience. The fog that covered the city had cleared and the temperature was rising quickly. The heat was getting intense. I though about the trails, the solitude, the peace, and self reflection. In moments when you feel at your worst, you can be your worst enemy or your most ardent supporter. Contrast that with streets lined with people cheering you on with hilarious signs. The crowds are supportive. When you are running through sprinklers that people put out for you too cool off, that is just awesome. The spirit of the people of Ottawa is great. Having said that, I still was dreaming of the trails: happier feet, a more spiritual run.
As I ran the final stretch of the marathon which takes you down Colonel By Drive towards and across the Pretoria bridge, then back up Queen Elizabeth Drive towards Confederation Park. With only 4 km I was slowing down, it didn’t matter, soon it would be over. I kept on trying to hold on to my pace, though it was challenging. My feet were pounding the pavement and I felt each step. The finish line couldn’t have come sooner. I took some time to stretch and relax. Trying to rest my body on the “lush” grass was slow and very painful since my body felt like it needed a spray of WD-40. After a good long stretch I got up to walk around and realized I made another critical mistake, I forgot the lube. So the lessons continue… be humble.