It’s a goal I’ve had for awhile, but I only came close once back in 2019. I was within striking distance in late November of that year when I got told I might have cancer in my mouth. I gave up on the goal and I went into a mental tail spin that took me years to fully recover from. Also in 2019, my friend Troy successfuly climbed a million feet. He smashed that goal easily, completing it months ahead of schedule in September (if I remember correctly). I was thoroughly impressed.
Troy died in February earlier this year. We weren’t close friends, but he had a larger than life personality, and I drew inspiration from how he lived his life. His Strava feed was a daily highlight reel, full of mountain adventures and outings with their two beautiful german shepherd dogs. I wanted to do something to honour the way in which Troy lived, so I decided to chase that 1 million vert goal. Unfortunately, I don’t have the confidence in my fitness right now to complete an entire year with that kind of volume, so I decided to pro-rate the goal for the month of March.
The math:
1,000,000ft = 304,800m (because I’m Canadian and feet confuse me)
304,800m / 466 days (it’s a leap year) x 31 days in March = 25,816m
Treadmills and gondolas do not count for this kind of goal. You must go up and come down on your own power. Troy accomplished his feat with a combination of runs, ski touring and mountain biking. I don’t bike, so I stuck to running and backcountry skiing.
The volume was daunting. While there was a time when I regularly ticked off 6000m+ weeks, I’ve rarely gone over 4000m/wk in the last few years. My legs fatigued quickly with the increase in volume, and two weeks into March I decided to drop all high-intensity running from my program so that I could recover better. I figured I could incorporate speedwork back into schedule in April.
A shift in my physiology and mindset slowly began to take form as the days progressed. I learned to relax. I no longer feared the repetitive nature of hill repeats, instead finding the monotony of it meditative and soothing. The soreness in my legs subsided and my quads began to feel my resilient and strong. I did my biggest vert day on skis, and surprised myself by discovering that my ski endurance is much stronger than it has ever been. Long days on skis are so joyful, and backcountry skiing is such a beautiful gift.
My final big vert day was on March 30th. I joined some friends for a ski tour of the Top Hat Traverse in Yoho National Park (14.8km, 1297m), then I did a solo run on on Ha Ling (7.8km, 840m). The views were sublime on the traverse, I had great company, and the skiing was fantastic. My climb up Ha Ling wasn’t quite as perfect, with lots of people coming down the trail sliding out of control on their butts, but I had the summit to myself and the descent was a dream. I felt so stable and strong as I floated down the trail that I considered going up again (now that the butt-sliders had gone home for the day).
This month has reminded me that I am strong, resilient and adaptable. I’m feeling better than ever, excited to push my boundaries further. Chasing vert enabled me to experience new adventures, with highlights including finding new ski terrain in the Healy Pass area and completing a 3 summit link up on the Icefields Parkway. I’m grateful for Troy’s impact on my life. This month has been a special gift.
Exploring the Hidden Lake area with SvenjaLots and lots of Prairie Mountain doublesSvenja styling on Richardson RidgeExploring a fantastic new ski zone with Darren#justupaheadBiggest vert day of the monthHot spring day on Ramp PeakHeading up Ramp PeakAnother hot spring day on East Peak of WendellAmazing snow dropping off of Mosquito MountainDali waits patiently for me on one of many urban hill repeeatsTop of Ha LingMet some friends on another Prairie Mountain doubleStats
Life has been busy with all this vert, and I’ve forgotten to mention here on my blog that I got into my dream race, Tor des Geants! This race packs 24,000m of elevation gain into 330km with a 6 day time limit. So don’t worry, all my elevation training this month has not gone to waste!
I hope you are all loving and living life. Happy trails!
I’m healthy, I’m happy, I feel supported. I haven’t felt this good in a long time, and I want to use 2024 as a time to celebrate. My goal for this year is to celebrate life, to recognize what a gift it is, and to experience all that it has to offer. 2024 is the the year of YOLO.
It’s probably not a coincidence that this is also the year I turn 40. Perhaps the YOLO philosophy is just a rebranding of mid-life crisis? Whether it is or not, I don’t really care. I’m stoked.
So, what does a year of celebration look like to me?
More than anything, it looks like exploration. I’ve been looking at maps, and I want to go ALL the places. Bonus points if I can go those places with Dali. She’s my adventure partner and going places with her is extra special.
The year of YOLO:
40 mountain passes
40 mountain summits
40 bodies of water swum
40 jump rope tricks
I also have the intention to share a bit more on my blog. Way back in the day I used to use my blog as a place to record my trip reports, let’s get back there. Monthly updates of my latest adventures will be coming your way!
Since I’m sure you’re all wondering, here’s the progress I’ve made on my goals so far (no progress on the swims … since all the lakes are frozen).
For a trick to count, I must complete 10 consecutive.Near Harvey Pass, on the Healy to Bourgeau TraversBirdwood Pass with Sean and MichelleSummit of Mount BourgeauSummit of Skoki Mountain with Skylar and SvenjaLoder PeakSummit of Wawa RidgePosing on Smutwood PassWaiting for clouds to clear on Burstall Pass Peak with Jazmine and SvenjaFalse Summit of Moose Mountain with DaliPrairie Mountain summit during a hard workoutEnroute to Mount WhymperMount Whymper summit
It’s that time of year where many of us look back and take stock of what we did with ourselves for the last 365 days. I enjoy this practice and find value in remembering and reflecting on past experiences; it inspires me to learn and grow. My themes for this year were to learn, explore and experience. I am proud of myself in how I managed to navigate the year’s challenges with those guiding principles in mind.
My first goal of the year which focused on my learn/explore/experience mindset, was to participate in the full Steep Dreams weekend. Unfortunately, Mother Nature did not cooperate with this goal. The snowpack was anemic and unstable all winter. I did not do any steep skiing and felt unprepared to safely participate in the Steep Dreams event. Rather than feel down on myself, I pivoted to an equally challenging but less skill dependent challenge: the Wapta In A Day (WIAD).
WIAD has been on my radar for a few years, however it requires a high level of fitness, strong partners and knowledge of how to travel safely on glaciers. You also have to choose the right weather window so that you don’t end up inadvertently lost in a glacier whiteout. On April 15th, I was able to wrangle together 4 friends to attempt this epic journey. After 46km, 2000m+ and 15.5hrs on skis we completed the monumental task, exhausted but with an immense sense of satisfaction. It was the longest ski any of us had ever done.
My second goal for the year was centred around Meet the Minotaur. I’ve run this race every year every year since it’s inception and it has a special place in my heart. I had aspirations to train hard and run harder, exploring the limits of my athletic potential. Similar to Steep Dreams, Mother Nature once again interfered with this plan. Spring came early, hot and smokey. I do most of my runs with Dali, but she couldn’t handle the heat and my lungs couldn’t handle the smoke. I trained well and hard from February – April, however my training lagged substantially in the 6 weeks prior to the race. I could have adapted better to this challenge by moving my workouts indoors, but I didn’t. Sometimes I get annoyed with myself for my inability to prioritize athletic performance over my day to day enjoyment of my workouts The truth is, I’m not a professional athlete, so if I’m unwilling to sacrifice enjoyment for performance that’s perfectly okay. My lack of focus will likely keep me in the sport much longer.
My third goal for the year was to run The Divide 200. I loved training for The Divide and felt the entire process embodied my Learn/Explore/Experience motto. The final miles of the race were particularly enlightening for me and opened my eyes to a whole new world of possibility. I am forever grateful to have had this experience, and I feel that it was a stepping stone that will enable me to have a whole new kind of life experiences.
Finally, my fourth (previously unpublished) goal that I had going into this year was to beat my 2019 elevation totals. In 2019 I was targeting one million feet of total elevation gain, but I gave up on my goal when TIMF was discovered. Now that TIMF is gone and I’m fully recovered, it would feel amazing to get back to the fitness I once had. After a few months of tracking, it became very clear that I am not (yet) ready for this monumental task. I finished 2019 with 270 000m of climbing and the benefit of hindsight shows me that this was a massive accomplishment. I’ll finish 2023 with just under 210 000m of climbing, and I’m perfectly fine with that. I’m closing out 2023 feeling healthy, happy and motivated. Also, it’s worth noting that I did have a bone graft, implant and crown this year so I won’t be truly free of TIMF related complications until 2024.
At the risk of turning his post into a novel, I want to highlight some of my most special experiences from this past year:
January – Skimo Moose a backcountry ski adventure with Dali and Jamie from West Bragg Creek to Moose Mountain summit.
February – 1000m on Dali’s Hill ski laps of a foothill which I have high hopes for in a good snow year.
March – Mount Quartz (aka Quartz Hill) this was a super enjoyable day out on the skis with Colin before he moved halfway across the world.
May – Backpack in the Ghost wandered into a pack of wolves and explored a new valley. This adventure requires a follow up trip.
June – Snow Peak with Marielle and the doggos. An incredibly scenic, perfect day.
July – Days 1 and 2 of a fantastic backpack exploring new terrain with Marielle and the doggos. Also climbed Mt King George and did an epic loop around Mt Assiniboine. July was next level!
August – Days 1 and 2 of a fastpack with Ryan through mind-blowing terrain.
September – I’m not including Divide 200 here because I’ve already talked enough about it. Highwood and Grizzly Ridge with Dali.
October – Petain Basin, another trip that deserves more exploration!
Before I even stepped foot on the Divide 200 start line, I felt like I’d won the race. Throughout the summer I had trained for this race by embracing a sense of adventure, spending long days out in the Canadian Rockies exploring my backyard with an enthusiasm I haven’t felt in years. I alternated long fast packs with long runs, building up my resilience and belief in my body’s capacity to withstand any challenge. My enthusiasm was enhanced by the discovery that Dali is a fantastic backpacking dog. She seems to want nothing more than to join me wherever I go, and I’m happy to have her along. Our partnership out on the trails seems to grow by the day, I’m not sure that I’ve ever had a more loyal and trusting friend. I felt completely at ease while training for The Divide. Out there in the remote wilderness, I felt like I’d found my home. Even if the race was a total disaster, I was so grateful for the process that had brought me to that start line.
The logistics of planning for a 200 mile race were exhausting. I spent days packing and planning for a race which has so much unknown and so many variables, that planning feels like a practice in futility. Regardless, I did my best. By the time we arrived at the pre-race meeting on Monday evening I felt comfortable that I’d done what I could. I’m a big pasta and meat sauce fan, so I took full advantage of the buffet dinner and enjoyed socializing with the other participants before heading back to Sparwood to (hopefully) get a full night’s sleep.
pre-race photo
I tossed and turned through the night, which was to be expected. I was sleeping in a strange bed preparing for the longest run of my life. I didn’t stress about the lack of sleep, since my sleep in the week or two leading up to the race had been great.
We arrived at the start line on Tuesday morning with time to spare so I took Dali for a walk. I knew that a week without running with me was going to be hard on her, and I was feeling little pangs of guilt. I pushed those feelings to the side, I didn’t have a clone and there was nothing I could do.
Km 0 – 69
The race began and I tried to run as relaxed as possible. The goal for this first 100 miles was to waste no energy. I chatted with other competitors for a bit before falling into my own rhythm, an effortless hike/shuffle up the gentle incline. I arrived at the first checkpoint within a minute of my predicted time, filled my pack with 2L of water, and headed out on the steep climb up to La Coulotte Ridge. I’d done this route before, but not in this direction so I was excited to have a new perspective. I was fuelling on maple syrup every 30 minutes, and drinking regularly. I didn’t feel fresh, but I did feel fine; I figured “fine” was good enough.
We traversed over many false summits and I embraced the ruggedness of it all. As soon as we hit the more technical terrain I began to pass people. This made me feel good about myself, but also caused me to question whether or not I should slow down. I was constantly questioning my effort level during those first 69km, not sure of what was appropriate or over enthusiastic. I also noticed that my body felt just a little bit off. I wasn’t pushing hard, but whenever I was out of the wind it seemed as though I was sweating much more than normal. Almost like I was running a low-grade fever.
My maple syrup supply ran out, so I moved the empty flasks to a side pocket and transitioned to Eat Mores. A girl came trotting past me as I was re-organizing my pockets during the long descent off the ridge. She was from Pennsylvania and had run several other 200s. She commented that you may as well enjoy the descent now because you’re going to hurt later regardless. Her words held some truth so I allowed myself to cruise a little bit faster on the long descent. Unfortunately, my fun descent was interrupted when I discovered that my maple syrup bottles were not as empty as I thought and they were leaking all over my pack and down my leg. It was Meet the Minotaur all over again.
I decided it was necessary to make a 5 minute stop at a creek to wash off. It was frustrating to have logistical issues so early in a race, but I was pretty sure that the chaffing would be next level if I continued to run covered in maple syrup. Besides, the creek was refreshing.
A couple kms later I arrived at the 2nd checkpoint. The volunteers informed me that I had been flagged as one of the racers whose satellite trackers was lagging. I was using my own personal Zoleo instead of the In Reach trackers provided by the race. When I checked my device it looked to be updating properly, so I decided to just increase the tracking interval from every 30min to every 12min. I also sent Matt a message to make sure he was tracking me okay so that we wouldn’t miss each other at the next aid station. With that out of the way, I continued the long slog down the trail towards Whistler Mountain.
My legs weren’t feeling particularly fresh on this section so I used a combination of walking and jogging. I filled up a soft flask at a creek, but I wasn’t intending to do a full refill until we began the long climb up the mountain. I didn’t want to carry more weight than necessary. Unfortunately, there was no creek near the base of the Whistler Mountain trail and one soft flask was defininitely not enough water to do the full mountain traverse without getting dehydrated. Dehydration destroys me, so after looking at my map I decided to run a couple hundred metres off-route to get down to the river for a full 2L fill up. While I was running off-route I came across one of the race directors who was walking up the trail with a backpack full of water. She, of course, was yelling at me to turn around because I was off-course. I explained my situation and she insisted on giving me some water even though we weren’t at a designated aid station. I felt weird about this until she assured me that she was also going to give other runners water and that I wouldn’t be disqualified.
Grateful for my water-laden pack, I began the climb up Whistler Mountain. The red rock and dead trees contrasted beautifully in the evening light. I reached the summit ridge and began the long traverse across to Table Mountain. I hadn’t done this section before, so I was a bit surprised at the constant up and down of the ridge as we traversed multiple false summits. The sun was starting to set and the temperature was perfect. There was just one other racer up there with me (Trevor Meding), and I felt totally in my element.
The descent off Table Mountain is technical, and I was happy to reach the first crewed aid station at Beaver Mines just before sunset. Navigating that descent by headlamp would have been slow going. Matt and my mom were at the aid station ready to crew me. I guzzled a bottle of Gatorade and enjoyed some mashed potatoes. We refilled my pack and grabbed warm clothes for the night. I reapplied KT tape on my feet (bigger strips this time), and added a strip under my bra line where my skin had begun to chafe.
Km 70-135
I left Beaver Mines by headlamp, burger in hand and feeling fantastic. My plan was to walk and eat the burger, but I was feeling so good that I decided to start jogging. In my enthusiasm I choked on a little piece of burger, started coughing, and then threw up all over the trail. It was a rude reminder that I needed to be detail oriented for this run. One mistake, like running while eating, can have big consequences.
I struggled greatly during that first night. Deep waves of fatigue would hit me and I’d feel the urge to sleep even though I hadn’t even been racing for 24hrs. The nausea would come in waves, with dry heaves and stomach contractions stopping me in my tracks. At one point I even lay down beside the trail for a few minutes in an effort to reset. Something I’d never done in a hundred miler, and here I was trying to complete double the distance. I reminded myself that my goals were to “learn, explore, experience.” Quitting would rob me of the opportunity to realize those goals.
When I reached the Syncline Group Campground aid station I had more Gatorade, mashed potatoes and beef jerky. Then I laid down for 15 minutes to hopefully digest the food before I got going again. I’m not sure how effective this strategy was as the rest of my evening was miserable. It was hard to imagine how I would ever cover 200 miles, when I was already feeling this bad only 70 miles into the race. I stumbled along and put one foot in front of the other, motivated by the thought of a hot cup of coffee at the next aid station.
The Lynx Creek aid station is considered a minor checkpoint, so when I got there I was dismayed to discover they had no hot food of any kind. This included coffee. I sat down and allowed myself a moment to wallow. The thought of coffee had been my singular, driving focus for the last hour. While I was wallowing my friend Georgie showed up. I was happy to see a friendly face, even if we were both having rough days. Apparently she hadn’t been able to keep her food down either.
I left the aid station before Georgie, but she had such a strong look of determination on her face I was certain I would see her again. The sun rose as I climbed Willoughby Ridge, and the morning light lit up the landscape in an array of autumn colours. My feet were pretty sore by this point, so that I wasn’t moving up or downhill very quickly, but the views helped to ease my misery. Georgie caught up to me near the top of the climb, and I tried to hang on as long as I could until she trotted off into the distance.
Back on my own, my misery reached a new level. My feet were so sore and I just needed a break. Why couldn’t I catch a break?!
Eventually I stumbled my way into the York Creek aid station. All my crew and pacers were there, and I started to weep. I’d been holding it in for so long, I just needed to let it out. The crew started to work, draining and patching the blisters on my poor feet. Donna wrapped my blister covered pinky toes in this special wool fibre from New Zealand and Marielle applied more KT tape to my heels. We noticed a rash had broken out on my feet and was starting to work it’s way up my ankles, but we didn’t know the cause and my feet weren’t itchy so we ignored it. I drank some coffee, ate some food, and then Skylar and I headed off for a slow but determined 66km loop. Skylar and I didn’t know each other well, but I knew that he’d run across Canada so I was looking forward to having someone to chat with and hearing stories about his incredible adventure.
Km 136 – 201
The trail heading north out of Coleman was really beautiful, with a delightful waterfall. I was surprised that I’d never ran there before! The delightful creek path transitioned into relentlessly steep ATV trails. These trails were so steep that I couldn’t help but laugh. What’s a switch back?
Skylar and I headed north through Coleman
We passed Jen Segger who was having a rough patch, and then she passed us back while I was trying to repair my foot situation. This pattern repeated a couple of times. I couldn’t understand it, but my feet felt like they were on fire! I was really struggling to move at a good pace with so much discomfort.
I didn’t know it at the time, but my race hit a turning point at the Racehorse Pass aid station. Once again, I was stopping to try and fix my feet. I requested a coffee when I arrived, even though I was pretty sure they didn’t have any at this “minor checkpoint.” To my surprise, the photographer at the aid station was able to crush up some coffee beans with a rock and brew me up a cup while I was messing with my feet! The ladies at the aid station took one look at my feet and diagnosed me as having a KT tape adhesive allergy. Suddenly the rash and sensation as though my feet were on fire was explained. We removed the tape and one of the ladies also introduced me to tincture of benzoin, which is this magical elixir which dries up waterlogged foot callouses. The tincture brought instant relief. I had Leukotape in my first aid kid, so we reapplied that to my rejuvenated feet (Leukotape is what I’ve used in previous races), and we headed off into the sunset.
Between the coffee and foot care I was feeling much more optimistic as we left that aid station. My energy levels were okay, and I could now step on rocks without pain. We cruised along the very undulating High Rock Trail, admiring the Starlink satellites and generally enjoying the night.
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end and the end of this section seemed to drag on and on. It felt like we were wondering around in circles, and I was beginning to have weird visual sensations. It seemed like the trail we were on was a skywalk, with sharp drop offs on either side. It was as though we were on a perpetual ridge top. Rocks along the trail also transformed into newspaper confetti, and I struggled to perceive the grade of the trail we were on. I started to poke my poles out ahead of me before I would step to make sure the trail was actually there and to assess whether we were going up or downhill.
Eventually we arrived at another minor checkpoint where I was able to drink some Coke and eat some chips. The Coke helped a bit, but the rest of the leg was a real struggle. Skylar coaxed me along, but I felt as though I was going to stumble and collapse into a sleeping heap at any moment. My brain was in mutiny.
Somehow we made it back to York Creek where I collapsed in a heap in the tent for 2 hours. It was daylight when Matt shook me awake to tell me it was time to get going again. I was treated to a gourmet breakfast of bacon, eggs, pancakes and coffee. Everything was delicious. I was super groggy and probably a little irritable, but my crew coaxed me along.
Km 202 – 242
Leo took over pacing duties from Skylar and we set off on the next 40km section of trail. Leo had run the Cocodona 250 earlier in the year, and crewed for multiple other 200s. He is also a long time friend and I was so grateful that he had agreed to give up his time to help me achieve this dream. I wasn’t very familiar with this section so I was excited to see what it was all about. I also was feeling much better after my nap and I wasn’t having any foot pain, so everything was looking up. Eventually though, the sleep monsters started to get me again and I found myself having trouble focusing. I could not maintain any sort of pace because I felt like at any moment I was just going to fall over. Leo relented and allowed me a 10 minute dirt nap among the horse flies in the heat of the day.
In a normal situation I could never sleep or even lie still with flies landing on me, but in this situation I knew that I had to take advantage of every minute of rest allowed to me. So I rested, and the flies buzzed around, and it was exactly what I needed. After my little nap, I felt that I was able to pick the pace up a bit. I ate some candy and put on some music. I hadn’t used music at all up until this point, but I’ve found it to be an extremely effective motivator if I only use it in small doses.
We had agreed that I could have a 1hr nap when we arrived at the Lost Creek checkpoint, and I was so relieved to lie down and close my eyes. Nap done, I ate some hashbrowns and perogies before heading out into the sunset with my new pacer Marielle.
Km 243-283
Marielle and I have been on many adventures together and she has a quiet confidence about her that fills me with postitive energy. The route over North Kootenay Pass was the crux of the race in my opinion and the primary reason why I felt I needed a pacer on this section. I had attempted to navigate this section once in training and discovered that the route on the west side of the pass was a brutal bushwhack. I quickly lost the track, and wound up taking an alternate, heinous route. The race organizers had promised they would flag this section well, but in my sleep-deprived state I did not trust my eyes or my brains. I was grateful to have a trusted navigator with me.
We didn’t get off route on our way over the pass, but we did miss a turn on our way up it. I’m glad Marielle caught the mistake, because I likely wouldn’t have clued into the error until I’d summited the wrong mountain. While we were finding our way back onto the trail, Dave from Austrailia caught up to us. Dave was quiet and steady and I enjoyed having another person to add to our little pack. We chatted all the way up the pass, and laughed at the ridiculousness that was the steep and technical descent down the other side. The race directors delivered and it was impeccably marked. They’d even cut a trail through the brush, so although the route was rough, there was no bushwhacking.
When we got onto an old service road, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that I had legs to run. I’d been eating a mixture of yogurt tubes, Oreos and lemon cookies up to this point, apparently that was the magic elixir. I put some music on my speaker phone, the letter “W” from my Liked Songs playlist on Spotify, and the 3 of us cruised down the trail.
We came into the aid station belting out “Wrecking Ball” and feeling high on life. The temperature plummeted to freezing levels in the valley so we all layered up in our thermal gear. I ate some chips and drank some Coke before heading off to the last crewed aid station.
I think we lingered for too long at the checkpoint, because I was stiff and not feeling very energetic when we left. Dave leapfrogged ahead and behind us depending on our pace, while Marielle entertained me with bad jokes. As the fatigue set in my eyes struggled to focus, and eventually I had to lay down for a dirt nap. The dirt nap allowed my eyes to focus again, and we arrived at Harvey Creek in the early morning hours.
I had a 1hr nap at Harvey Creek, knowing this was likely my last real sleep before reaching the finish line. I was grateful for a cot, and also grateful to know the finish was within reach. After a breakfast of pancakes and coffee, it was time to head off on the last leg of the journey.
Km 284 – 330
My friend Jamie paced me for the final portion of the race. Jamie is steady and not easily phased. I knew I was going to be ridiculously slow on this section, and I also knew he’d be just fine with that.
I had hoped to run portions of the very flat FSR that we were walking along, but I never managed to coax myself to run more than to a count of one hundred. Physically, I could do more, but mentally I felt so taxed. I had no desire to push.
We worked out an agreement that I could nap for 10 minutes once every 10kms. This was highly motivating for me and I felt much better after each mini-siesta. Also during this time, I had a massive blister finally pop on the side of my heel. Once that had drained and I was able to do one last foot care stop to apply tincture of benzoin (thanks Leo), my feet felt 100%.
We hiked up to the top of Middle Kootenay Pass at a slow but steady pace. The race organization had cleared most of the brush on the pass and I think my gratitude helped to cure some of my general malaise about moving any faster. I had been up this pass in training 2 months earlier and the brush had been nearly inpenetrable.
The fall colours on the pass were so brilliant I thought I might cry. I had worried that my fatigue would act as a barrier to appreciation of the world around me. But now, I was delirious with happiness at the beauty of it all. We began to trot down the steep descent towards the finish line. I was shocked to discover my legs were able to run a little bit. My throat had been too sore over the last several hours to eat much, so I’d been sucking on hard ginger candies. Apparently that strategy was working.
During a 1min run
I felt so good on those last few, flat kms to the finish line that I worried about messing it up. I wanted to bottle that feeling forever. I told Jamie that we would walk one minute, run one minute on repeat until we hit the parking lot at the finish area. We reached the finish area and Matt, Leo and Dali were waiting to run us in. I’ve never finished a hundred feeling good, so this was a truly special feeling. I crossed that finish line surrounded by loved ones and feeling lighter than air.
Epilogue
The human capacity to persevere is beyond understanding. The fact that I continued on past that first night when I was feeling so incredibly terrible, is completely illogical. And the fact that over 60 other humans also pushed through their own battles to reach that finish line defies reason. The act of continuing on, when everything inside you cries out for rest, is strangely empowering. There is power on the other side of fatigue, and a morbid curiousity has been awakened. I want to know the nature of this power, and I feel like the Divide 200 was just a taste.
I had a full crew and 4 pacers for this race. My mom, Matt, Donna, Marielle, Skylar, Jamie and Leo all gave up multiple days of their time to help me achieve a rather arbitrary goal. My friend Karen also lent us her condo in Sparwood for the week so that all of us could have a place to shower, sleep, and cook. I think back to all the aid station volunteers, many of them working 18hrs+ to ensure runners are safe, crushing coffee beans with rocks so that I can have my caffeine fix! All of this reminds me that humans are basically good and want the best for each other. If you ever lose faith in humanity, just go to an ultra and your faith will be restored.
What would I do differently for the next one? (yes, there will be a next one).
I’ll continue to work on filing off the callouses on my feet so that I won’t have chronic blister issues. I’d been filing off the callouses for the month prior to the race, but I really need to do this continuously for the rest of my life.
I’ll use leukotape. I’ve used it in the past with good results. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
Much more yogurt and cookies. I brought along yogurt tubes on some sections of the race. They went down so well and felt great on my sore throat. I should have had many more tubes. Oreos and lemon cookies also always went down very easily.
Tincture of benzoin.
More running in training. I don’t regret how I trained for this event with lots of hiking, however I think future performance could be improved with more actual run volume.
Thanks for reading and I hope you find happiness on the trails!
It’s been a weird year and my headspace feels a bit all over the place, but I wanted to record some thoughts before heading off to race Meet the Minotaur tomorrow. I care deeply about this race and I want to do well, but I have no idea where my fitness is at so I’m having a bit of a crisis of confidence. Last year I felt that I raced really well. I focused on the process and I finished the race completely spent. I loved my time out on the course and I couldn’t have asked for a better experience. How can I possibly top that this year?
I’ve been reviewing old blog posts, and I’m reminded that I perform my best and have my most rewarding experiences when I’m process oriented instead of outcome focused. There is no need to try to “top” last year’s performance. My goal for this race is to get the best out of myself on the day, and this goal has no relation to any previous results or times.
As I was ruminating on how to improve on last year’s result, worrying about my finishing time, I found myself getting stressed out about the bottleneck on the first climb. I’m not fast enough to go out with the race leaders, so a bottleneck is unavoidable. What can I do to limit the damage? I’ve decided not to stress about this aspect of the race, or about its effect on my finishing time. The course opens up about halfway through the first climb, and after that point I’ll be free to move at my own speed. Until then, I can just think of the bottleneck as an extended warm up.
Letting go of the outcome allows me to release the stress associated with that first climb, and frees me to enjoy the race experience as a whole. I’m excited to push my body to its limit, and see what it can do. I have no idea where my fitness is at right now, but I’ll have a pretty good idea after the race! I said that my goals for this year were to Learn, Explore and Experience. Tomorrow, I get to embrace that mantra.
I’ve been fueling with maple syrup. It’s delicious.Big Traverse with good friends.Dali on Snow PeakSelfie on Mount RemusQuality time with Dali on Guinn’s PeakMinotaur Wednesday on Forgetmenot RidgeMinotaur Wednesday on Nihahi Ridge.Bull Creek Hills
I love goals. More specifically, I love the process of goal setting.
This past year (or years if I’m totally honest) I’ve done a lot of reflection on my goals. What goals were successful in motivating and exciting me? Which goals were a total flop, forgotten nearly as soon as I set them? How can I ensure the goals I set this year inspire me?
Life has had a lot of ups and downs lately, and racing does not excite me in the same way it used to. The tagline for this blog is “finding limits and pushing past them.” Does that motto still ring true? Do I still care about pushing myself to that extent?
Three words come to mind when I think about goals that excite me:
Learn: Learn to problem solve. Learn new skills.
Explore: Explore my mind and body. Explore new places.
Experience: Experience all that life has to offer. YOLO.
What goals can I set (from an athletic perspective) that meet these criteria?
In chronological order:
Steep Dreams full weekend: Vertical, Individual and Teams Race. In 2022 I considered entering the full weekend, but I was fairly certain it would destroy me. Hardrock was extremely important to me, and I was not willing to risk injury in training or on the race course. However, participating in the individual event and then volunteering at the teams event the following day left me wanting for more. I immediately knew that I wanted to come back and participate in the full weekend. Steep Dreams checks off all 3 goals; I have so much to learn when it comes to ski mountaineering. Skiing steep slopes enables me to explore my mind and body in ways entirely different from trail running. and the experience of the Steep Dreams weekend is unlike anything else I do. (One caveat for this goal – the current Rockies snowpack is extremely unstable and shallow. If we don’t start to get a better snowpack within the next month I may decide to re-evaluate this goal.)
Meet the Minotaur. How does running this race achieve my goals? I’ve run Meet the Minotaur every year, surely I’ve learned all there is to know. While I’ve run Minotaur every year, I’ve never trained specifically for it. It has always been a side project, on route to a higher priority goal. This year Minotaur is the high priority goal. I am going to explore my capacity for this style of racing and learn how to push my body to the next level. I want to experience running Meet the Minotaur at my highest capacity. This means I will be doing a lot of vert, a lot of technical running, a lot strength training, more intensity than I’m used to, and (most importantly) a lot of consistency. I am so excited to give this event my best shot.
Divide 200. I think this one is self-explanatory. Racing 200 miles through the southern Canadian Rockies checks all the boxes. I am certain the learning curve for this goal will be steep, but I am here for it. I will push myself to my limits and I’m excited to see what that looks like. In the process of running 200 miles I am sure I will learn more about my body and mind than I ever wanted to know!
In my last post I teased about a big announcement. I actually have two announcements.
The first one is running the Divide 200. If you follow me on social media, you may have already seen me post about that.
The second announcement is that I’ve finally decided to officially take on a few run coaching clients. While I’ve been personal training for 15 years, I’ve only coached runners occasionally and unofficially. I don’t want to overload myself and I want to be as available as possible, so I’ll be accepting a limited number of clients to start. While I have experience working with individuals of all levels and distances, I think I can be most valuable as a coach to individuals training for long distance mountain races on courses I’m familiar with such as Meet the Minotaur, Sinister 7, Bighorn, Iron Legs etc. If you’re interested, please email mountainmovementcoaching@gmail.com . All run coaching will also have a strength training component. Check out the Mountain Movement Coaching tab for more details.
It’s been a year full of some of the most intense highs, and lowest lows. As we come into the final days of 2023 I can’t help but reflect on all the experiences of this past year, and think about what I hope to glean from the future.
This past year I did a lot of things well, and I’m proud of myself for what I’ve accomplished. During the first half of the year, this personal success was helped along greatly by Dobby’s enthusiasm and Matt’s unflagging support.
My big goal for the first part of the year was to survive the Steep Dreams Skimo North American Championships in March. This was not a competitive event for me, rather my aim was to complete the event within the timeframe allotted and to not get hurt. In the weeks leading up to Steep Dreams I focused on improving my uphill ski fitness, and challenging myself to ski steeper terrain. I am happy with how I committed to the process throughout training and during the event. This became a highlight event of the year for me.
My “A” goal (from an athletic perspective) of the entire year was the Hardrock 100 in July. The entirety of the 1st half of 2022 was focused on getting in shape for this race. I hadn’t run a 100 mile race since 2019, and I was in relatively poor running shape when my name was drawn for the Hardrock lottery. I wrote myself a run program including high-intensity intervals (ugh) beginning in January, and I stuck to that program with a level of consistency I haven’t had in a long time. This consistency was helped in no small part by having Dobby enthusiastically join me for nearly every workout. My consistency was interrupted by a two-week “hiccup” when I got COVID in May, and those two weeks of fatigue definitely set some of my training back. Once I’d recovered from COVID I didn’t feel that I had any more time left for high-intensity running, and the remainder of training was based on building race specific training volume.
When Dobby suddenly died in June it threw me into a tailspin. I loved that dog as though she was a part of my soul, and I wasn’t sure how to continue chasing my goals without her. In the midst of a lot of crying, I decided that I needed to fully commit my remaining time to doing the very best I possibly could. No excuses, no half-assing it or jogging it in. It would all be “full send” in honour of Dobby’s spirit.
One week after Dobby’s death, at Meet the Minotaur, I ran as hard as my legs would let me. I didn’t have the fitness I had hoped for at that race due to my COVID setback, but I did the absolute best that I could, and I was/am so proud. It was the perfect way to honour Dobby.
3 weeks after Meet the Minotaur I was back on a race starting line, this time for the Hardrock 100. I’ve run many 100s over the last several years, but I’ve never managed to make it from the start to finish without feeling sorry for myself at some point along the way. My goal for this run was to focus on the process and to run with gratitude. The race did not go perfectly, but I was so happy to complete the run with no tears, no pity parties and only a heart full of joy to have had such an experience. As I reflect on my run at Hardrock, I am filled with gratitude.
Life after Hardrock was aimless. Returning to a dog-less home was heart-wrenching and Matt and I immediately starting looking for another mountain running companion. This process was not seamless, and I struggled because no dog could ever fill the hole Dobby left behind. After some bumps in the road we adopted Dali; a large, energetic and goofy husky/german shepherd. Dali was only 8 months old and had potential hip issues. I had to taper my enthusiasm for long runs, and build her run capacity up more moderately than with my past dogs. During this time of restraint I missed Dobby more than ever, and I felt like such a spoiled brat for having those thoughts.
I signed up for the Ironlegs 50 Miler in the hopes that I could utilize some of my high-altitude fitness to achieve a good time on the course. Unfortunately, being completely focused on an outcome goal is a terrible way to run an ultra. It became obvious early in the race that a PR time was not in the cards, so I decided to just enjoy a long run on my backyard trails reconnecting with the ultra community. After 40km of running I was sore, tired and more than happy to call it a day.
My aimlessness continued after Ironlegs when I registered for the fall season of ultimate frisbee. I love playing ultimate, and I figured this would be a good way to get some speed back in my legs while having fun. Unfortunately, I was a bit over-enthusiastic in this approach and wound up giving myself a plantar-plate injury as well as Achilles tendon issues. I kept running through these injuries. I’ve had some tenderness in my Achilles in the past and I’ve always been able to run through it. Why should this time be any different?
I was frustrated by my aimlessness and general lack of fitness. I kept running through the pain of injury in desperation to get the feeling of fitness back. Dali was also turning out to be a great run partner, so I was highly motivated to keep running since it seemed to bring her so much joy. The Achilles pain was soon joined by hamstring pain travelling down my right leg. I had had some minor hamstring niggles off and on all year, but now this was a persistent pain that was waking me up at night. Eventually I admitted to myself that I needed to stop.
Admitting I was injured was hard. I am strong and resilient. I don’t get injured … or at least not like this. Upon reflection, I realized that I stopped weight lifting with any consistency in December 2021. My strength and resiliency in years past has been, in a large part, due to my commitment to strength training. This injury is a reminder that actions (or non-actions) have consequences, and now I am paying for my neglect.
I started back to consistent strength training in the early fall. I also took 10 days completely off running at the end of October, and I’ve been building back up methodically since then. My achilles pain is non-existent, and my hamstring only makes itself known with very specific movements. I am now running pain-free, and I’ve started back on a structured training plan which includes strength training as a non-negotiable pillar.
Reflecting back on this year, I can see that setting process goals led to successful outcomes, while outcome goals and general aimlessness led to frustration. Hardrock was a huge achievement that took a lot of mental and physical focus, I definitely needed to take a break afterwards and I don’t regret the aimlessness of the last few months. I just wish I would have retained a bit more fitness and avoided injuring myself with my stubborness.
Looking forward to 2023, I have some big goals and I’m excited to be heading into the new year feeling fresh and healthy. I hope to retain the lessons learned from this year, and to continue that process of exploration, learning and experiencing all that life has to offer.
I’m feeling a bit aimless at the moment, but Dali is my one constant. Every day I make sure that she’s happy, exercised, fed and learning. Teaching and caring for her gives me direction and purpose. But what are we working towards?
An internet aquaintance is working his way through the entire 5 volume series of Kananaskis Country Trail Guides. This is a project I considered back in the Moxie days, but never followed through on. It seemed daunting and tedious at the time. The aquaintance shared his trail guide checklist, and suddenly this challenge seems more manageable and exciting. I aim to work my way through the list with Dali as much as possible (some of the trails are not dog friendly) over the next several years. This should keep us busy for a long time 🙂
Check out our trip tracker here and follow along with our progress!
My journey to the Hardrock 100 was 9 years in the making.
I first qualified for Hardrock in 2013 at Pine to Palm. I followed that up with qualifications at Fat Dog 2015, Bighorn 2017 and Bighorn 2019. All of these runs were painful learning opportunities, battling through IT band pain, shin splints, nausea, extreme mud, a car accident and blisters. At times I was frustrated with the process and lack of lottery success, but in the end I think this journey worked out in exactly the right way. Over the last 9 years I’ve raced the 100 mile distance many times, and each race has taught me valuable lessons. The accumulation of years, miles and experience has taught me patience, resilience and gratitude.
In 2018 I ran The Ute 100M race through the La Sal Mountains in Utah. This was my first high altitude race, and an early vomit session taught me the need to respect the thin air. That race was a rollercoaster of emotions as I battled through altitude and heat, but it also became an invaluable experience in preparing for Hardrock. I learned about the extreme temperature fluctuations that accompany changes in altitude, and the wild momentum shifts that go along with those environmental changes.
I’d been hoping to get in some altitude training at home, but this didn’t happen because late-season snow meant training had to be completed in the foothills and valleys. Instead, I drove down to Colorado two weeks before Hardrock in an effort to acclimatize to the high altitude. My friend Chris and I met up in Leadville, and we climbed up a couple of 14ers (14 000ft mountains) in the area. I felt like death as soon as we climbed beyond 3800m. This was especially noticable on the first mountain of the trip, where I found myself needing to take a rest break after every few steps. My time in Leadville did not build my confidence for climbing at altitude. Fortunately, my downhill running felt better and better with each outing. I took solace in the thought that I could make up for my lack of uphill fitness with my downhill skillset.
I left Chris behind in Leadville and made my over to the San Juan mountains. There were two peaks on my radar, Mount Uncompaghre and Wilson Peak, which I’d been meaning to do on previous trips to Colorado but hadn’t yet completed. I successfully climbed both mountains without the same altitude issues I’d been having in Leadville and my confidence began to grow. Maybe I was adapting.
The final week before Hardrock was spent in the Silverton area, checking out sections of the course, eating and resting. Some runs felt good, others felt terrible. I gave up trying to predict how I’d feel on race day and instead focused on how lucky I was to be able to play in such beautiful surroundings.
Nicki joined me two days before the race start and we camped out in the Kendall Mountain Recreation Area in Silverton. The race organization had arranged this free camping set up, and it was amazing. The camping area had toilets, wifi and a kitchen area, plus it was walking distance from the race start. I was super thankful for these amenities.
Matt was scheduled to fly into Montrose on Thursday afternoon, but early Thursday morning he called me to let me know he’d missed his flight. Matt was supposed to be my main crew man and driver for the ride home since I’d be too tired after the race to safely drive. Not having Matt was very upsetting, and I was thankful I had Nicki there to keep me focused on problem-solving rather than ruminating on what had been fucked up.
I contacted work and let them know I needed to extend my vacation by another day to allow time for the drive home. Nicki pivoted from her pacer role to crew role. Matt tried to figure out how to get on a standby flight. Unfortunately, Matt flying standby was super stressful for me since we didn’t have arrangements for getting him from the airport to Silverton, but I tried (unsuccessfully) not to dwell on it.
The evening before the race I couldn’t stop thinking about the potential of Matt being stranded at the airport. I sent Kris a message (he was my pacer who was driving out from Denver the next day) and asked if he could pick Matt up from the airport in the event he was successful at getting in on standby. As soon as I sent that message I felt a weight lift off my shoulders and I was able to get a few hours of sleep.
RACE DAY
The temperature on race morning was cool, with many runners bundled up in puffies as they waited for race start. The starting line was a bustling mix of runners, media and spectators. It was so crowded that I wasn’t even 100% sure where the start line was! I met up with Chris and Leo, and we snapped a quick photo before the final countdown to the race start.
Three Albertans at the start lineCourse profile (this year the race was a bit longer, 102.5 miles)
I tried to run slowly off the start and I think I was reasonably successful. Leo took off ahead, while Chris and I stayed in the same general vicinity for the entire 1st climb. I pulled ahead a little during a small downhill, and Chris caught back up while I was enjoying a snack on the side of the trail. In an effort to help with digestion, I planned to stop and chew my food rather than eating on the run. I wound up following this strategy about 50% of the time.
The descent off the first climb was super fun, but it was also the muddiest section of the course. I passed several runners as I descended, slipping and sliding and wiping out once in the muck. I paused for a water refill at the aid station before beginning the long hike up to Grant Swamp Pass. This climb started out super mellow with some runnable sections and I was enjoying myself until suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my lower leg. Something had bit or stung me! Thankfully, I’d remembered to take an anti-histamine that morning, and the burning/itching sensation subsided over the next hour.
The trail up to Island Lake was super buffed out and busy with hikers and media. Everyone was considerate, stepping to the side and cheering the racers on as we climbed up the steep slope. I had seen photos of Island Lake on social media so I was excited to see it in person. Unfortunately, the general busyness of the trail was too much for me. I made an effort to smile and be polite (everyone was being super nice), but I wasn’t able to relax and enjoy myself because of the crowd. I took this climb too hard and I paid for the effort.
Excited to get away from all the people, I enjoyed the scree run down Grant Swamp Pass. The scree was nice and soft so you could just let your legs go and enjoy yourself. The scree slope was followed by a boulder field, which was much more difficult terrain. You had to be careful not to roll an ankle and the course markings were sometimes difficult to see. I was thankful I had the route uploaded to my watch, as I went off route at one point. I caught up and passed Leo on this descent, but I was fairly certain he’d catch me on the next climb.
CHAPMAN GULCH – MILE 18.1
The hard climb up to Grant Swamp Pass had brought on a bit of nausea, and I cut back on my snacks for the next hour while my stomach calmed down. The next climb up from Chapman Gulch was relentless. Leo and I left the aid station together and I apologized that I didn’t really feel like chatting. I had one headphone in and was fully committed to the grind at this point. The climb up the mountain just kept going and going, increasing in steepness with seemingly no end. I had to go back to my stopping while eating strategy. Leo and I leapfrogged up the climb, with Chris visible and closing the gap from behind.
I made the summit first and was rewarded with the most wonderful downhill of the race; cruisey switchbacks through fields of wildflowers and ribbons of waterfalls. I quickly made a gap on the rest of the racers and enjoyed an entire descent to myself, cheered on by the marmots.
TELLURIDE – MILE 27.8
The skies opened up and I ran into Telluride in a torrential downpour. Nicki and the rest of the Canadian crew were waiting the aid station, huddled under communal tents. We changed my socks and shoes and lubed my feet. I drank 500ml of Gatorade and ate a few chips. Unfortunately the chips were Pringles and I was turned off by the texture and generally lack of saltiness. Nicki gave me the amazing news that Matt had made it to Silverton, and I headed off on the next climb with a joyful heart.
All smiles at Telluride aid station
I had intended to use the washroom at Telluride, but in my excitement I forgot. The race director had been very specific that you needed to poop at least 200ft off trail, so it took my quite a while to find a suitable location. Eventually I found a spot, but in the meantime Leo leapfrogged ahead of me and Chris caught up from behind. We slogged up the final steep climb to Kroger’s Canteen and arrived together!
Having the 3 of us together at Kroger’s was a highlight of the race. We each enjoyed a mini tequila shot, and then it was time for the very long descent down to Ouray. I went ahead on the descent, no one visible ahead of me and no one visible behind. My downhill legs still felt great, so I kept enjoying myself. Soon I was trotting down a smooth gravel road and some alarm bells started to ring quietly in the back of my head. This descent was too long and runnable. I could easily overdo it and cook my legs if I wasn’t careful. I decided to walk the flat sections and anything that felt like it required any kind of effort.
Thunder boomed and the skies opened up with the most torrential rain I’ve ever seen. It was spectacular! The temperature wasn’t cold so I could run in the rain without fearing hypothermia, but the storm didn’t quit so I decided to pop into a roadside outhouse and put on my rain jacket. Just as I came out I saw Leo run by but I don’t think he saw me. I ate a couple of gummy candies and it felt like one of them was caught in my throat, so I coughed. Suddenly I was hunched over, vomiting on the side of the road.
Nathaniel Couture (another Canadian) saw me emptying my stomach contents into the ditch and decided to run with me the rest of the way into Ouray. I wasn’t feeling too badly despite the puke session, so we were able to make our way into town at a reasonable speed. I was greatful for the company and it was fun to run with someone for a bit after so much solo time.
OURAY – MILE 43.9
We arrived in Ouray and it was so good to see Matt’s smiling face. He had made it! Nicki was also there and ready to pace me, but first I had to change out of my wet t-shirt/bra and get some food into me. It felt like I took a long time in that aid station, but perhaps I needed that time for a necessary reset.
Nicki and I began the long hike up Bear Canyon next to Meghan Hicks and her pacer. I ran ahead during a short downhill, but than Meghan passed me back during the sustained climb up the canyon. The Bear Canyon portion of the trail was really neat, cutting right into the canyon side wall with a huge cliff below. As darkness set in, you could see the headlamps working their way up the canyon.
I was feeling good until I wasn’t. Suddenly, I found myself keeled over and dry heaving on the side of the trail. My entire stomach was in convulsions but nothing was coming out. It was very painful, and I hated that Nicki had to see me this way. Eventually the convulsions eased up so that I was able stand up and continue my hike.
At the next aid station I had some coffee and saltine crackers (recommended by Nicki). The crackers weren’t particularly satisfying, but they went down okay. We continued our climb up and over Engineer Pass, overtaking Leo along the way. It looked like Leo was going through a rough patch of his own.
My legs were still feeling fine at this point, but I knew they’d eventually quit on me if I couldn’t get some calories in. Nicki and I ran down the jeep road from the pass to the Animas Forks aid station. I may have had a dry heave session along the way, but my memory is foggy. I was greatful for my downhill running ability and hoped that some replenishment at the aid station would save me from a total death march.
ANIMAS FORKS – MILE 57.9
Nicki and Kris swapped out pacing duties, and we headed out into the night for the highest part of the course. I was very nervous that this section would turn into a non-stop vomit fest due to the altitude, and I monitored my effort closely. Chris and his pacer Alissa left the aid station with us, and we headed up the next climb as a team of four. The effort felt too much for my stomach, I slowed down and Chris and Alissa soon disappeared up the trail in a sea of headlamps.
I felt like I was reasonably steady during the Handies Peak section. Definitely not fast, but moving at an okay pace. We passed Chris and Alissa on the descent off the peak, Chris was having a trail nap while Alissa stood watch. I wondered if that strategy would pay off or just bleed more time. (Spoiler: Chris beat me by 2 hours)
I was excited for some running on the next section of the course. The terrain was very moderate on a slightly downhill jeep road. I took two Tums to settle my stomach, and then decided to take two Saltstick Fastchews to get my electrolytes balanced out. I’d been craving salt the entire run and nothing seemed salty enough.
Both the Tums and the Fastchews were fizzy, and the effect of swallowing four fizzy tabs at once was a volcano in my stomach. My race deteriorated before my eyes as I threw up all of my stomach contents. I tried to get running after the stomach explosion, but my legs felt like lead and the effort to run felt enormous. In the past I would have gotten very negative at this point and spiraled into a negative feedback loop, this time around I decided to accept that running wasn’t happening. No point in feeling sorry for myself, it was time to hike.
SHERMAN – MILE 72.7
When we reached the Sherman aid station I began to realize just how tired I was. The volunteers gave me a bowl of soup to eat while they bandaged up my pinky toes, which had blistered from the downhills. I repeatedly spilled the soup all over myself and I’m not sure I managed to get any of it into my mouth. I was in okay spirits, but I was a bit of a disaster. We left the aid station and began the long hike onto the most remote portion of the course.
The next miles drifted by in a blur. Some guys ran past me, while I passed no one. I was disappointed not to be able to move at a faster pace but I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. The weather was warm and the trail was boggy, it reminded me of some of the bogs we encountered on the GDT. I knew from experience that this was high danger for blisters. If your feet dried with the grit from the mud in your shoes, your feet would be destroyed. I also had made a plan before the race started to avoid blisters at all costs, and instructed my pacers to be insistent that I clean/lube my feet at aid stations. The result of this plan was more time than I would have liked spent at aid stations, but I successfully finished the race with happy feet and not a single painful blister.
The pace was agonizingly slow, but Kris kept me entertained with stories of his previous pacing experiences (he is an expert pacer), as well as an introductory course on F1 driving. Did you know that Canada has two F1 drivers, and that they both suck? Me neither!
I thought one of the upcoming aid stations had smoothies and I became a bit obsessive. Turns out neither of them had smoothies, but I think the thought of smoothies was motivating. On the descent down to Maggie Gulch my legs felt completely locked up. It was a painful stumble down to the aid station
MAGGIE GULCH – MILE 87.1
At some point I discovered that I actually like the Saltstick Fastchews, I just had to take them one at a time with water instead of 4 fizzy pills at a time. I also discovered I liked saltines with salted avocado. At Maggie Gulch I even discovered that I liked eating quesadilla! My nausea was gone and I’d made it through to the other side, now I needed to slowly refuel and see if I could get my legs back.
Thunderstorms circled around us as we climbed out of Maggie Gulch, but a patch of blue sky stayed overhead. The climb up to Green Mountain was endless. The aid station captain had told us it “wasn’t that bad”, but it seemed to go on for hours! Thankfully we were walking through fields of wildflowers, and that made the tedium much more enjoyable. I also felt like I was getting my legs back. I couldn’t run, but I could move smoothly without pain.
Descending down to Cunningham Gulch felt extreme. I was 90 miles, and well over 30 hours into a mountain race and now I had to work my way down this steep slope without falling off a cliff. My downhill legs were more functional than they had been 2hrs ago, but I still wasn’t exactly spry. I was very thankful to my poles for support. This descent probably wasn’t as death defying as it seemed. I’d like to go back there on fresh legs to see what all the fuss was about.
CUNNINGHAM GULCH – MILE 93.2
It was such a joy to come into Cunningham Gulch. I’d made it down from Green Mountain in one piece, and now I had less than 10 miles to go! My stomach was good, my legs were feeling better by the minute, and if I kept moving I could kiss the rock before dark. Kris and Nicki switched off pacing duties again, and I loaded up with candy and quesadilla for the last leg of the journey.
While I was in the aid station two other girls arrived, that definitely lit a fire under my ass! I took the longest in aid, so all 3 of us headed up the final climb at the same time. I decided to take a caffeine pill and tried to push the effort up the climb. I wasn’t moving fast (Nicki wasn’t even out of breath following behind me), but I moved as fast as I could manage for that section. My goal was to get out of sight of the two girls so that they wouldn’t try to chase me. I knew my downhill legs were completely shot, so this felt like the only way to maintain my lead. Soon I was a couple switchbacks ahead, and when the trail went around a corner and out of sight I felt like I could relax a little bit.
Thunder was booming all around us, but a patch of clear sky remained overhead. We theorized that Dobby was watching over us. Taking a moment to breathe on that final highpoint was a special moment.
I tried to run a few times on the last descent, but it just wasn’t happening. I wasn’t in pain, I was just completely spent. I was pretty sure that my glycogen stores were at zero, and Nicki joked that I’d run my ass off. I walked as efficiently as possible, only attempting to run when we finally arrived on the streets of Silverton.
Courtney was out cheering on the finishers (she had finished 12hrs earlier), and I managed to hustle a few metres for her. Then Nicki told me that someone was closing in from behind and I was forced to jog those last two blocks. Dirty trick Nicki!
SILVERTON FINISH – MILE 102.5 (38HR, 17MIN)
Hanging out at the finish line the next day with Kris and Nicki
Finishing Hardrock was incredibly meaningful to me. It was the culmination of years of hardwork and self-discovery. It was a celebration of my health, and of the trail community that I am so thankful to be a part of. It was an opportunity to explore my limits, and process some of the trauma I’ve experienced recently.
I am beyond grateful to those who have supported this dream of mine, too many to name, but especially:
Wow, I am so far behind on my blog. There have been several significant life events since Steep Dreams, and I’m not even sure where to start. Let’s forge ahead in point form and get into more detail later.
Run training was going well through April even though spring snow and cold temperatures limited my ability to get much steep mountain running in. Dobby continued to grow into the best mountain running dog ever. I could feel my fitness improving, and I was feeling happy and optimistic.
In May I organized Run for the Braggin’ Rights. This is a free run event in Bragg Creek which I host every year to raise money for the trail association. Dobby and I ran 75km together over two days, and then I did a 3rd day on my own. I was feeling strong and my 100 mile legs were starting to make an appearance. Two days later I was sick and I’m fairly certain I had COVID. This knocked me off my training schedule for about two weeks, and although I don’t think it impacted Hardrock training much, it definitely derailed my training for Meet the Minotaur.
The snow finally began to melt in June, and Patrick and I got out for an awesome day of ridge running at Moose Mountain. Dobby joined us and she was such a delight. I came home floating on Cloud 9. The next morning Dobby seemed to be in discomfort, and within an hour it was clear that her condition was worsening. I took her to the 24hr clinic, expecting a urinary blockage or something similar. I was mentally prepared to pay $1000-$2000 dollars for emergency surgery, but the diagnosis was much worse than I imagined. She had a diaphragmatic hernia and she required immediate surgery. The cost quoted was $6000-$8000 and it was likely that she could have complications going forward due to organ tissue death (some of her intestines and part of her liver had floated out of her diaphragm). Matt had just lost his job the week prior and we couldn’t justify the cost given our financial situation. We also knew that Dobby’s quality of life may be permanently affected going forward. Letting go of Dobby was so hard, and I still question the decision. I’ve always aimed to be very pragmatic about my animals, but that pragmatism has eroded over time. Moxie, and then Dobby, became part of our family unit. Dobby was the sweetest dog I’ve ever interacted with. She had a heart of gold and enhanced my life in ways I never imagined.
A week after Dobby’s death I ran Meet the Minotaur. I wasn’t sure how that race would go. Dobby never did anything halfway; she loved hard, played hard, chewed hard and chased hard. I decided that I would aim to channel Dobby’s spirit and adopt her “full send” attitude. I raced well and surprised myself by squeaking into a top-10 finish.
The hard racing at Meet the Minotaur resulted in a serious case of DOMS and I basically took the next week off for recovery. I was happy about the muscle soreness, since I figured it would be the perfect training stimulus for Hardrock which was 3 weeks later.
At the end of June I also had follow up imaging on my bone graft. I’m happy to report that it is looking healthy and the TIMF saga is nearly behind us.
I’ll save my Hardrock race report for another day, I didn’t feel right writing about it until I’d caught up on the last few months. Until then, I hope you are adventuring outside and give your doggos an extra squeeze from me.