OUTRace 30th Anniversary Fun Run - Saturday, August 25th, 2018

Because what WOULDN'T be fun about trying to run the former Creemore Vertical Challenge course 2 days after minor surgery?

If nothing else, we got to see a spectacular sunrise on the drive up.

I wasn't at all sure how this would go. I had only been for a couple of gentle walks, and feared that I wouldn't actually be able to run without pain deep in my abdomen as I'd definitely been feeling a "something ain't right here" sensation whenever I'd engage my stomach muscles since Thursday afternoon. But, it was supposed to be a warm day, so I figured at worst I'd just walk a lap and be done with it - showing up and trying are two things anyone can do, so I planned to do them.

A bit of rain fell here and there as we drank coffee and drove through the hills up Airport Road toward Creemore, smiling as we passed the former site of the Dirty Girls ultra and arriving in plenty of time to chat with friends and check in at registration.

Do you get the impression there might be a bit of elevation change?

We parked right beside Pierre and LeeAnn's neat totem pole

Half the reason I'd signed and (and made sure I showed up) was the registration gift - a 30th anniversary commemorative toque, available in your choice of fluorescent yellow, green or pink.

Is anyone surprised that I didn't choose pink?

The sun came out as I swung my limbs around to try to loosen up, shining prettily on the raindrops that coated the landscape and warming the cool morning air so I could feel comfortable ditching my sweater for my vest chock full of gear. 

I'd later find out it had been raining on and off since 4am.

With no clue as to what my day would be like, I had packed along a trekking pole, a secondary bottle of water (as my hand bottle might not be enough to get me to the lone aid station if I could only walk; there had been some confusion on my part over whether it was a 10k loop with aid at 5k, or a 7.5k loop with aid somewhere around the middle), a long sleeve shirt, a wind/rain jacket, and loads of food in case I felt like doing multiple loops or just took forever to complete one.

Somewhat amazing I was able to even stand with all that gear.

One last visit to the portajohn, then I finally tried running a bit - just a few seconds to get back to the starting area, but it felt unexpectedly fine. Not only no pain, but no sensation at all from my abdomen; maybe this would actually work out ok! Before we all set off, Pierre had us all get together for a group shot - presumably it could also be used for first responders to know what the bodies they were searching for looked like before they departed.

I clearly missed the memo about everyone wearing their toques.

While everyone else went and dropped their toques off back at their vehicles, I saw a couple of acquaintances come into the start/finish area from an early lap. They said the course was very muddy and slick, and to watch the downhills specifically. 

Yikes. I'm glad I brought a pole.

The confusion about the course length was put to rest by the pre-race announcements, in which we learned there would definitely be 2 river crossings (thus, LeeAnn says, making it more challenging than the original CVC course...especially with the mud) on the 7-ish kilometer loop, with an aid station approximately halfway.

Pierre and LeeAnn giving us the beta.

Hmm. With a 7km loop, I might actually do 2. I wasn't feeling too bad, and I'd told Tanker that I'd keep it to 2hrs or less which might allow me to get through 14k. I'd heard there was a fair chunk of country road involved, so maybe I'd actually be able to run.

At one minute past 9am, we all set off to find out what awaited us.

Robin and the fellow to my right seem fascinated by my feet.

We rambled down the dirt driveway a bit before turning right into a tree-covered doubletrack laneway. I was trotting along slowly but steadily in the humid air, trying to let people pass me at their leisure as I knew I'd be bang at the back of the pack very soon.

So far so good.

I was also trying to make sure I didn't mess up my still-not-really-healed right ankle in the rooty, stony ruts of the doubletrack. I was soon down to a walk, though, as we came to the first crossing of the Mad River within the first few minutes. It turned out to be somewhat of a double crossing, too - first a very shallow, wider swath and then a narrower but somewhat deeper and swifter-moving second splash through.

There are no less than three 65+ year old men ahead of me in this photo.
Definitely not a day to listen to ego.

I managed to come through upright and undamaged, though my shoes were rather sloshy. The next section required just as much care as we ran along the riverbank, trying to protect my taped-up ankle as we rolled along over water-smoothed stones.

I hadn't anticipated this.

I was happy to leave the riverstone section behind until we got about 3/4 of the way up a steep, muddy hill.

Ok, this isn't too bad..

Part way up, the soft dirt had been squelched into slippery mud by the passage of soggy feet. I was moving very tentatively, knowing I didn't have the core strength to cope with a foot sliding out from underneath me and concerned about my ability to make it up safely. This concern only grew as a girl in front of me slipped and was unable to regain her feet, clawing desperately at the mud with hands and feet laying on her chest. Fortunately a fellow above us grabbed a branch and held it out to her (as she needlessly apologized for holding people up!), and she was able to pull herself up and out of the worst of the mud. Me? I decided that it was time to deploy my trekking pole. 

Between tiny sideways steps and digging in firmly with my wimp stick, I made it up that hill without falling or slipping, but it was the nail in the coffin for any ideas about a second lap. It was supposed to be a fun run, and I certainly wouldn't be having fun if I tried this business again.

You can just see the worst of the muddy trench below me in this shot.

Feeling free of any expectations, I spent most of my time on the course hiking up one hill or another.

Or another..

..or another.

We eventually came out to a dirt road, with me firmly at the very back of the pack with another couple of runners who were either coming back from injury or a total lack of training due to a partner's ongoing health issues. We nonetheless all managed to run the entire uphill.

I was surprised I made it.

Turning off the road to the right, we then - just for the novelty of it - climbed another hill through a grassy meadow.

At least we'll get all this elevation back, right?

See if you can guess what came next!

Crisp high five if you said "another hill"!

Honestly, the course was gorgeous and would have presented a welcome challenge if I was decently trained, rested and fit.

I don't have to be good at things to enjoy them, which is a damn good thing since I'm kind of pants at most stuff.

In my rather weakened state that morning, though, I was really just trying to hold on and get through while occasionally managing to take in the beauty of my surroundings. I was definitely starting to lag behind the two runners with whom I'd shared the back of the pack, though.

At least the runners doing their subsequent laps would find my corpse.

Things finally flattened out a bit as we hit some doubletrack through some pines, and I tried to break into a bit of a trot, but the ground was rutted with grass obscuring the contours and I feared for my ankle.

No, I know it doesn't look bad and I'm a huge wuss.
I'm ok with that.

Hiking along and running where I could, I looked at my watch and saw that I'd taken 32mins to cover less than 3km. I hoped Tanker wouldn't worry about me too much when I failed to appear at the start/finish for more than an hour..

As the grassy doubletrack continued.

I finally reached the aid station, but only paused for a moment to drink some water from my bottle - I'd had less than 8oz so far and knew I wouldn't need to refill as I had the second bottle, but wanted to try to stay on top of my hydration.

Finally caught up to some people who stopped.

Emerging onto another dirt road, I then finally got to let my legs loose again on a long descent.

Fortunately I didn't have to run up the other side!

While the sun was very warm in the humid air, the assistance of gravity actually saw me doing a decent clip for the first time all day.

And then I dropped my friggin' pole trying to take pics while I ran, because I am nothing if not an idiot.

Hard right at the bottom of the slope onto a gravel doubletrack driveway, from which you almost immediately veer onto a grassy trail.

Follow the flags straight ahead, not the driveway.

More ankle danger.

Despite the overgrown, rutted nature of the rolling path through the meadow, I did actually spur myself on to run a bit. 

And held onto my damn pole a little better.

I'd sent Tank a message on the dirt road downhill to let him know I wasn't dead - just very, very slow and cautious, and certainly only doing one lap. He relayed a message from Robin asking if I'd like to go for a bit of a road run after I got back; she was tapering for the Run Woodstock 100 miler in 2 weeks' time and didn't want to risk another lap, but wanted to get a bit more mileage in on the day. I said I was definitely in, and tried to pick up the pace a little so as not to keep her waiting on me too long.

Though the rolling nature of the trail and my own timidness still made me hike a lot.

The sun emerged again as I entered a more tree-covered section, making beautiful patterns of light on the now-runnable ground.

Pretty.

As I trotted along, though, things got more and more overgrown again.

Um, you'd think everyone else would have trampled this down a bit more..

Forging ahead, I carefully ran down a slippery, muddy hill through the woods.

Trying to make up some time.

I found a really neat tree, too.

To be honest, the whole thing would have been worth it just for this image.

It's a good thing I was able to appreciate the scenery, though, as moments later a girl came running the other way...telling me that this was the wrong direction, and we'd both blown a turn.

Back up the slippery hill, we ran back to a fallen log covered in trail tape that we'd both thought was just well marked to ensure noone tripped over it.

WRONG

What we'd both failed to notice was that it actually directed you along a different trail entirely, which was helpfully lined with pink flags.

Back on track now.

The girl quickly pulled away from me as I carefully made my way through some more technical trail, coming to a very steep, sketchy downhill.

This is going to take me some time.

As I carefully began my descent, firmly planting my pole below me to try to keep my feet from sliding out from under me, I noticed the steep downhill led to an even steeper, slicker hill of mud on the other side of a gully.

Note the two runners at the top for scale.

This climb was so steep, in fact, that Pierre had strung a length of knotted rope between the trees for participants to use to haul themselves up.

Seriously.

Standing in the ankle-deep mud at the bottom of the gully trying to figure out my best approach to this.

And perhaps questioning my life choices a bit.

Thankfully, it turns out the leg pockets of my skirt are big enough for me to stuff my hand bottle into. Thus, I had my left hand for my pole, and my right hand for the rope, and between the two of those plus some very firm foot plants into the mud, I eventually crested the near-vertical climb.

Didn't die.

Over the ridge, then back down some steep, loose soil switchbacks into another gully.

Not making these last couple of kilometers easy.

The closer I got to the bottom, the muddier the dirt became.

With it also being side-sloped to the right, I was fearful of slipping down the hill.

Reaching the bottom, you had to cross what I assume is a seasonal runoff stream - I suspect it was only the morning's rain that had it flowing.

You could by and large get through with dry feet.

Up the other side, it was all forested singletrack for some more climbing.

You had to know there would be more hills, right?

In some places calling it a trail was a little generous, but at least the flags kept me on course.

You know, when you actually pay attention to them..

Cresting another ridge, I hit a muddy road that almost reminded me of the logging roads at Haliburton, only with mud instead of gravel and stone.

At least it's a downhill, right?

A bit more winding singletrack through the forest, then the final descent to the Mad River.

DON'T FALL NOW, STUPID!

This crossing was significantly deeper - above the knee - with much larger stones on the bottom.

Pierre and LeeAnn keeping watch on the other side.

Can you imagine having this right in your backyard?

What kind of idiot stops in the middle of a river for a selfie?

Finally making it back to the start/finish, I found Robin waiting for me, all set to go.

I hadn't used a single thing out of my vest.

Having taken almost an hour and a half to complete the lap (plus my pretty little detour - Garmin data here), I scarfed back one of my homemade sea salt maple crisp rice squares before ditching everything but my phone and my hand bottle with Tanker. After LeeAnn kindly made some suggestions for running routes, Robin and I set off for an easy, conversational trot along the rail/snowmobile trail on the East side of Airport Road.

This here? This I can run.

It was lovely just rolling along easy and chatting away, especially as the sun had disappeared behind some clouds again so it didn't feel quite to stifling.

Good company helps, too - Robin is a wonderful lady!

We hadn't really set any goals for distance or time, but when we came to a giant puddle with a hill behind it we both stopped and basically said "nah", then turned around.

Not today.

The trip back was just as relaxed, with the view of the escarpment behind Pierre and LeeAnn's in the distance.

I'll take the flat bit for $1,000, please.

All told we ran about half an hour - the workout details are here. Returning to the start/finish area, I got my handmade clay participant medal and grabbed some food from the UltraCooler™.

12-odd kilometers for the day will do it - actually ended up just shy of the 2-hour limit I'd set!

I wasn't feeling bad at all, but when I heard there was a stump set up in the river I couldn't resist going and taking a seat to soak my legs a bit.

The famous "Mad River massage"!

I started to get a bit chilled, so went and got changed into dry clothes before joining Tanker at the start/finish aid station to try to help out a bit and cheer on other runners.

Him in a tank top and me in a hoodie - our lives in a nutshell.

 Oddly enough, while it hadn't rained a single drop the whole time I was in my running kit (including my merino tshirt whose colour name is "sunshine"), soon after I changed and joined the aid station team under the tent the skies opened and it absolutely POURED! Runners were coming in soaked as though they'd fallen right in the river, and I saw so many patches of mud on people's arms, legs, chests and butts that it was obvious many had taken a tumble on the slick trails. I was happy to have made it through unscathed, and before conditions worsened!

Not only was I able to run that day, but I've run 4 out of the 5 days since, taking Tuesday off after a 3-day block during which I felt stronger each day. I'm grateful that I'm finally starting to feel like myself again, and looking forward to a relaxing long weekend before we head up to Haliburton for some shenanigans next Friday.

Oh, and if you ever get the opportunity to head up to Creemore for an event at Pierre and LeeAnn's, know that (apart from a gorgeous, challenging course) you're going to be spoiled silly! Apart from the toque and medal, there were prizes for everyone - 30th anniversary embroidered OUTRace beach towels, LeeAnn's beautiful Mad Pots ceramic arts, and Pierre's famous homemade maple syrup. Thanks to Tanker volunteering, we actually got to bring home some of that delicious elixir along with a gorgeous bowl that is perfect for a hearty meal-size serving of ramen.

Which I happily had for dinner on Sunday.