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| It was both a perfect day and a nightmare. |
Lead-up to the race was not encouraging - I didn't even manage 6hrs per night of sleep Sun-Thurs, had to work a bunch of overtime, and was into serious pre-race panic mode. This was not helped by an email from the race directors during the week detailing the course, which was suddenly no longer the small loop plus single 154km (77km each way) out-and-back that had originally been described: now there would be a short (10.3k) out-and-back plus a much longer (~43.3k) out-and-back, with each being repeated 3 times. While this would now give me more frequent access to drop bags (meaning I didn't have to carry as much, since my food allergies mean I have to be pretty self-sufficient for nutrition), it was very different from the race I had registered for months ago...and would no longer be a net downhill for almost the entire second half. Nonetheless, I had achieved a bit of calm by Friday, and hoped I could offset some of the nerve-wracked fatigue with a solid 8 hours of sleep. I duly got myself to bed by 10pm with an alarm set for 6am.
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| Dundas Valley looking beautiful in the morning light. |
My hopes of a good night's sleep came to a screeching halt at 4am, when I awoke with my left calf seizing into a ball of pain. I managed to stretch it out and stop the cramp, then had to get up to use the washroom anyway...at which point I discovered my entire left leg felt half numb. Lovely - some kind of nerve impingement the morning of my first 100 miler. To make things better yet, our old tomcat decided this was his big chance to sit at the end of our bed and sing us the song of his people not less than every 15mins for the next 2 hours. By 5:48am I gave up and got out of bed - no sensation of numbness this time, but a niggling ache in the calf muscle where the cramp had been.
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| To go along with ongoing high hamstring tendinitis, a bit of plantar fasciitis, and a sore right ankle. |
Braids. Oatmeal. Tape. Spandex. Body lube. Grab all my bags (post-race clothing, the UltraCooler™, my drop bag for the "Friendly Coyote" aid station)...then realise that not only have I not grabbed my headlamp or a change of batteries for it, it actually still has the same batteries in it from when I lent it to someone to pace a runner while volunteering at Tally in the Valley last month. I quickly pulled 6 AAA batteries, put fresh ones in the headlamp, and a ziploc bag with the other 3 in the UltraCooler™. Out the door at last - 10mins later than I wanted - and then RIGHT BACK IN as I realised I'd forgotten to even make (let alone bring) my container of chocolate almond milk for my T.Ho's coffee. Utterly frazzled, I shook it all up and booted back out the door.
We arrived at Dundas Valley Conservation Area about 15mins late due to some directional weirdness - we've made the trip dozens of times before but somehow managed to blow it that morning - leaving me about 45mins to do ALL THE THINGS. Fortunately kit pickup went smoothly and I was able to get everything done that I needed to: drop bags to correct drop-off areas, portajohn stops, more body lube, sunblock, bug repellent, and my usual flaily warm up while listening to the pre-race announcements. It wasn't awesome that my right ankle was being particularly whiny, but it's been known to settle down once I get into a run. I was as ready as I was going to get.
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| Looking 867% more confident than I felt. |
We lined up on the rail trail by the Trail Centre, and precisely at 9am took off down toward the first turn-around, just past the Hammer View aid station. I almost immediately began to regret my shoe choice - I'd gone with a pair of New Balance Fresh Foam Vongo v3 as they were mildly supportive with a plush, cushy midsole and had room for my feet to swell. What they did not have was a rock plate, or anything to protect my feet against the 3/4"-1" stones that littered the trail, nor the flinty bits of rock that protruded from the trail's surface in one area not far from the start/finish. I was also feeling some pressure on the top of my left foot, on top of my 1st metatarsal a couple of inches back from the base of my big toe. Perfect.
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| So why do I look so smiley here? Because this was about 10 seconds after the start. |
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| Down the trail we go. |
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| Why did the chicken cross the road? |
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| Because that's the way the course goes. (The joke writer quit) |
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| Morning sun |
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| Another road crossing. |
Most of the way down to the short-lap turn-around is downhill at a 2-3% grade - the first couple of kilometers are the same stretch of Tally in the Valley infamy. It gets steeper yet as you come to Powers Crossing, before leveling out as you cross the bridge.
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| I'd seen this section once before, at the Happy Trails Racing group run at their 2019 Trail Running Expo. |
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| Bridge over a valley |
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| View looking south |
Past the bridge the trail tips up for a minute before you cross a very industrial-looking bridge over a road.
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| THEY SAID IT WAS FLAT DAMMIT |
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| Almost to the turn-around |
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| A terribly blurry shot of the Hammer View aid station, which was staffed by the awesome Darkside Runners and had a Christmas theme |
Two signs (and a 3' tall nutcracker) just beyond the aid station signaled the turn-around for all events (there were 10k, 25k, 50k, 50mi, and 100k options as well as the 100 mile), so you now got to go back uphill for almost the entire ~5km back to HQ.
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| I'm not kidding! |
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| Crossing the bridge |
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| Still running - for now |
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| Powers Crossing really is quite impressive |
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| Looking north from the bridge |
It was starting to warm up significantly, and I wondered if I should grab my cooling sleeves from the UltraCooler™ when I passed HQ. I had put on sunblock (because sunburned skin can't dump heat as effectively), but wondered if the sleeves might help as the sun and temperature climbed.
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| The steeper uphill past Powers Crossing |
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| This section of trail is really beautiful |
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| Climbing steadily back toward race HQ |
I ran the whole stinkin uphill - apart from a quick stop to take a photo or two - mostly in the company of a lovely girl named Hilary who was also making her first 100 mile bid. About a mile away from the start/finish we started to see runners coming the other way - the 10k, 25k and 50k had started at 10am, heading downhill to Hammer View, so I yelled a lot of encouragement at the runners passing by. We got back to HQ in pretty decent time, and I found Tanker on the trail offering high fives.
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| Hilary and I approaching the start/finish. |
"10k" split: 1:09:14 @ 6:55/km
(All information seems to indicate this was actually 10.3km)
I got a bit of a half-assed high five from him as he turned to give one to someone behind me, and I asked him for a kiss then (not really to my credit) gave him a bit of a dressing-down: since I had no other crew, nor any pacers, I had asked him to please give me his whole attention when I came through race HQ as I was going to need a lot of help as the day went on and I got stupider and stupider. I got my kiss, then started to run off...and realised I was leaving for the longest aid-station-free section of the course with no water.
Stomping back to the aid station tents, I was told by the timers not to cross the mat again, as the chip on the back of my bib had fired to record my split. I mentioned that this was a perfect example of the kind of help I'd need as the day went on; leaving without water could be disastrous, and I have a history of doing so in long races, so I needed help staying on top of it. After filling my bottles (I had my usual hand bottle plus a soft bottle in my vest - I left it empty to start as I knew the one bottle would probably last the first hour or so, but knew I had a long stretch coming up so filled both), I gave him a smooch and got on my way, having to swing wide 'round the timing tent to make sure the mat wouldn't pick up my bib again. I totally forgot about the cooling sleeves in all this..
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| Onward. |
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| ..and upward. |
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| Still lots of shade at this point |
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| Stacy up ahead was running her first 50 miler |
I was annoyed to discover that my full soft bottle was now beating the hell out of my right boob when I'd run - my pack had just enough slack in it to let it bounce, and it was both annoying and uncomfortable. I'd trained with a soft bottle in there all summer, but for some reason the sudden addition after running 10k made the effect really stand out. I had to ignore it, though, as I needed both bottles. A further annoyance was the trail itself: I knew that the stretch between the Hamilton end of the rail trail (the turn-around being around 0.5km from the trail's origin) was all uphill to race HQ, but I was disheartened to discover that the false flat uphill continued long past it as well. While still very runnable, the slight incline put a lot of stress on my already-sore hamstrings, and I started to walk more and more.
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| Especially through the offset gates at the road crossings. |
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| Green indeed! |
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| Sue - who I believe ran the 100k - and Sasha, who totally rocked her first 100 miler. |
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| Another road crossing - sign indicates right turn to Old Highway 99 |
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| "Brantford 22km" |
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| Some lovely shade |
The problems with my shoes and feet continued. I finally ended up having to stop to loosen my left shoe's laces due to the uncomfortable pressure on the top of my arch, putting my foot up on a gate at a road crossing. That eased things off, but I started to pick up a bit of gravel inside the shoe - since they're road shoes I hadn't installed hook-and-loop patches on them to use with my gaiters, so there was nothing to keep debris from entering, especially with looser lacing. I had to take my shoe right off to dump some gravel out, then re-tied it too tight and had to stop again to loosen the laces a bit.
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| Making those gates work for me |
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| Ah, the scenic gravelly intersection of Mineral Springs & Slote Road |
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| Much nicer |
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| The green tunnel |
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| They do tease a bit, though. |
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| The #ultrarunningmemes are strong at this one They really did have lounge chairs, though, and even a full-size mattress with blankets and pillows! |
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| The 50k turn-around just past the aid station. |
Me? I just got my bottles filled and continued on, using a walk break as a chance to get some fuel into me.
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| By which I mean bacon. |
I was keeping up my usual plan of starting off with EFS Liquid Shot from a flask, taking a swig about every hour and supplementing that with real food (my homemade maple crisp rice squares and, of course, slices of back bacon) to keep up around 200+calories per hour. I was also taking S!caps at a rate of about one per hour to keep electrolyte levels up, as I was sweating profusely in the hot sun. I also managed to fumble with my little flip-top bottle a bit, dropping some of the caplets on the trail - I did not appreciate my clumsiness when I had to bend down to pick them up, and dust one off before washing it down with some water from my bottle.
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| Crossing Hwy 52 - it was so busy they enlisted the help of a police officer to facilitate safe crossing during the daytime on Saturday |
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| There's a mark each kilometer along the trail, which aids in knowing where you are...but can also be horribly depressing when they seem to take forever to reach. |
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| Losing the shade toward mid-day |
To make things extra disturbing, I kept seeing dead things on trail: tiny dead mice with bodies no bigger than the top joint of your thumb, dead frogs, and even a dead cicada.
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| There were close to a dozen dead mice. Not encouraging scenery. |
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| I wasn't much of a fan of this soft, sandy portion of trail either |
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| I so wanted to bring one of these apples back for Tanker, and planned to do so on my final trip to the finish. |
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| View for miles to the south of the trail |
This was the 6km stretch to the next aid station, known as the "Friendly Coyote" and also the location of the only drop bags permitted on course. There was no crew access, though - the only crew access was at either HQ or Opossum's Landing/Temptation Station.
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| Brilliant sunshine through the trees |
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| Another road crossing |
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| Finally into the style of kilometer marker I recognize from the Cambridge to Paris portion |
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| The diagonal makes this the longest road crossing ever |
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| I must have 88 miles per hour while running - apparently I've gone backwards in time! |
When I got in to this aid station (around kilometer marker 19 - 6km from the last aid station, and approximately 13.5km from HQ), I needed to hit my drop bag for some additional nutrition. I was down to my last swig of EFS Liquid Shot, one slice of bacon, and one crisp rice square with about 10mi to go before I'd make it back here to get anything further. I was delighted to find Dion at the aid station; he was making sure the Hamilton Running Club members who were staffing it (and who'd put out a whole pile of 90's candy like Popeye cigarettes and candy bracelets!) had all the supplies they needed. He was kind enough to help me with my drop bag, ensuring I could get everything I needed quickly and efficiently. He said he might come out and run with me for awhile later as well, to which I looked forward - we've had a lot of fun together this year!
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| Get in, get what you need, get out |
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| Big sign with a map of the full 77km rail trail in the parking lot at the Friendly Coyote aid station |
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| Back out on the trail, with much less shade |
While the sun was beating me down a bit, this part of the course was actually flat to slightly downhill, so between a bit of rest while re-supplying at the aid station and gravity's assistance, I actually managed to put together a couple of half-decent stretches of running.
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| Even with the extra weight of full bottles and pockets |
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| The middle section of the long out-and-back had big stretches of open land |
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| HOW HAS IT ONLY BEEN 1KM SINCE THE AID STATION? |
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| Another road crossing |
Because of differing paces, time spent at aid stations, and walking breaks, the small field of 50mi, 100k and 100mi runners was pretty spread out by this point. You'd go for several minutes at a time without seeing another soul.
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| One runner off in the distance ahead |
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| Noone in the rearview mirror |
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| Benches all along both sides of the trail became increasingly tempting as the hours wore on |
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| A welcome bit of overcast from passing clouds |
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| Yet another road crossing |
5km on from Friendly Coyote you come to a road crossing by an enormous, tempting-looking pond (which was, of course, signed "NO PUBLIC ACCESS - STAY ON TRAIL"). At this point you cross into Brantford - known as the Telephone City - and the aid station that bears the same name, though turned into "paradise" by the Running Rarebits who were staffing it.
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| That road crossing got lei'd |
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| Palm trees, grass skirts, pineapple and bacon |
This was also the location of the 100km turn-around point, but I pressed on after grabbing a piece of pineapple and filling my bottles again. I was really killing the water, while keeping up with one S!cap per hour for electrolytes - I'd gone through my whole 600ml hand bottle plus most of my 600ml soft bottle in the 5km since the last aid station, and now had 3.1km to the turn-around and another 3.1km back to the Telephone City crew before I'd be able to replenish again.
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| The 50km turn-around with the sound of vehicles on the 403 getting ever louder |
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| A short but sharp hill as the trail turns to pavement |
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| Downhill on the other side |
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| Approaching the 403 underpass |
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| Crossing under the bridges for westbound and eastbound |
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| Graffiti and the muddy waters of Fairchild Creek |
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| More paved trail and up another hill |
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| This was a bit steep on tired legs |
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| Down the other side of the hill and 3/4km along another ruler-straight bit of trail, you reach a bridge over Fairchild Creek |
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| ..with the turn-around at the far side, almost to the 27km marker. |
Now there's just the small matter of about 21.2km back to HQ, before doing it all again...and again.
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| Fairchild Creek looking a little low. |
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| Dead straight, dead flat - back the way you came |
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| Under the 403 again |
I had to fuss with my danged left shoe again a couple of times, and in doing so I noticed I was getting a bit lightheaded when I'd stop moving - a little concerning. When I got back to the Telephone City aid station I downed a cup of Skratch drink, then grabbed a cherry & pistachio Skratch bar as I filled my bottles, and ate it as I walked away. I followed that up with an Endurance Tap gel, my last crisp rice square, and an extra S!cap, hoping that an infusion of ~350cal at once plus some extra electrolyte would help clear my head a bit. It was disheartening that at 4hrs I was already having to walk quite long stretches, but I was still making good forward motion and needed to get rid of the mild dizziness before it turned into a serious issue.
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| As much as jumping in the pond might have helped, it wasn't an option. |
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| Can't even buy some shade |
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| Just open fields around |
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| Great to see a bicycle repair station on the trail! |
I actually ended up stopping at that sign/bench and putting my left foot up YET AGAIN to fuss with my laces, as I was still having trouble striking a balance between uncomfortable pressure on the top of my foot and having my foot slide around inside the shoe as I walked/ran, which was rubbing up a pretty nasty blister on the ball of my left foot. I'm pretty sure this is where I figured out the solution that worked better than anything else I could come up with: I left the laces down the top of my foot so loose I'd be able to pull the shoe off, but then used the extra hole at the top to lock-lace the collar snug just below my ankle.
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| Then set off again in some welcome shade |
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| I did a lot of "just run to the end of the shade - then you can walk again" |
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| Much harder to convince myself to run out here |
Back to the Friendly Coyote aid station, I grabbed another cup of Skratch drink and banana chunk, hoping they might help sort out the persistent lightheadedness, and mentioned what I was experiencing to the wonderful HRC volunteers. One of them asked if I thought I was overheating, and if I'd like some ice - I gratefully accepted, stuffing my cleavage and the zip pocket on my skirt at my lower back. With both bottles full, I headed out once more for the 6km trek back to Opossum's Landing.
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| The blue thing is a small placard indicating this is Brock's Route - the historic path taken by Major-General Sir Isaac Brock during the War of 1812 |
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| Brock captured Detroit - I was just some idiot trying to stumble my way through a hundred miler. |
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| Officer Vinny keeping us safe while crossing Hwy 52 |
Of course, not only did the lightheadedness continue, I had manufactured another problem for myself: I'd failed to hit my drop bag on the way back for additional nutrition, and only had 2 Endurance Tap gels plus a small swig of EFS Liquid Shot (which I mixed with water to get every last drop/calorie out of it that I could) to make the 13.5km back to HQ. DUMMYPANTS. I hoped I could get a chunk of banana to supplement at Opossum's Landing, as I knew it would probably take me close to 2hrs to cover the distance back to the UltraCooler™.
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| SALVATION |
Just my luck - there was nothing I could actually eat on the table as I was getting my bottles filled and drinking yet another cup of Skratch. When I explained my situation Jennifer asked if there was anything I'd like to eat, and she could see if they had it - I asked for a chunk of banana, and she was kind enough to hand me a whole, small banana. AWESOME! She asked if I wanted just a piece, but I said I'd take the whole thing, and wandered off happily munching.
It was perfectly ripe, and I was a happy human once more, but when I tried to fling the peel into the bushes at the side of the trail (which is not my finest moment; I know I should have just brought it along with all my other rubbish to dispose of properly, but I'd forgotten to empty my trash pocket at the last aid station and it just felt so...heavy) the danged thing hung up on a tree branch! So if you're out west of Dundas Valley on the rail trail and see a banana peel in a tree on the north side, I'm sorry.
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| Back into the park at last! |
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| Still a long way to go to HQ though |
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| Just for novelty - another road crossing |
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| Beautiful stream below a road crossing, shining in the sun |
I was still pushing myself to run for a minute or two here and there, aided slightly by the mild downhill. I was feeling very rough, though - my right ankle had hurt with every single running step I'd taken so far, and my left hamstrings were complaining loudly even on the downhills now. I'd try to massage out my left glutes and hamstrings while walking, which helped a little, but I was discouraged by how beaten up I already felt. The blistering on my left foot was getting worse, too, but I didn't think there was any way to really fix it as my feet were coated in BlisterShield powder and I hadn't brought a change of shoes or socks, or any liquid/ointment lubricant to apply.
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| So, I just walked a lot and focused on the beauty around me |
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| ..and the joyous sight of sunshine through trees |
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| Enjoying the shade |
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| ..and the views in the wider-open areas. |
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| Still mostly just walking, but occasionally running a few steps |
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| Seriously - where the heck is the trail centre? |
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| I'd have sworn it was around here somewhere.. |
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| FINALLY done 1 full lap! |
53.66km time: 6:58:11 @ 7:48/km
43.66km split: 5:48:57 @ 8:00/km
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| At least I was able to run it in past the camera. |
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| Elevation profile for the full 53.66km - an ~11km long uphill counts as "dead flat", right? |
If you're just here doing recon for racing this event in the future, you can probably stop right here - I don't forsee passing along any further relevant information for you. If you'd like to continue to hear about how horrible things truly got as the hours piled up, grab a beverage and prepare for big blocks of text from here on in.
I hit up the aid station at HQ and was grateful to find Tanker giving me his full attention as I got rid of my trash and now-empty gel flask, dropped off my phone, and downed another cup of Skratch drink. Not wanting to wander off with no nutrition this time, I grabbed a turkey wrap, another packet with 2 slices of back bacon, a couple of additional packets of Endurance Tap, a baggie with 3 more crisp rice squares, and re-filled my little flip-top bottle with S!caps. I also picked up full flask of EFS Liquid Shot, putting it in the pocket of my vest vacated by my phone - I'd had the first one in the thigh pocket of my skirt all day so far, and now my left quads felt rather tender where it seemed to have bruised my thigh as it bounced around. I've never had that happen before. A lot of things were terribly sore, though: my upper back and neck were tight and hurting, the outside of my shoulders felt bruised, and even the fat on the back of my arms felt sore from all the bouncing around. No time to feel sorry for myself, though - I needed to get moving before I stiffened up.
So, off and away for my second lap of the course, and Tanker was even sweet enough to walk with me out to the end of the Trail Centre clearing as I headed back downhill toward Hammer View and the Darkside Runners. I did manage to run a little, but I was mostly walking - I knew I still had almost 23 hours before the 30hr cut-off, so figured there was no harm in trying to take it easy on my body as my hamstrings and ankle continued to complain. I'd told Tank it would probably take me at least an hour and a half to make it back to HQ, so I knew he wouldn't be worrying about me too much...though I'd told him about the lightheadedness, and can't say he wasn't concerned.
It was on my way down that a few of additional complications arose:
1) I finally had to pee. I kept trying to find a place to do so, but there's no cover available and there were loads of people on the trail (it being around 4:30pm on a lovely Saturday afternoon now).
2) My left shoe felt like it had about a teaspoon full of gravel in it.
3) Most immediately concerning, something in the back of my right shoulder twanged nastily and locked up, making moving my right arm very painful. I carry my hand bottle in my right hand, and trying to run with it was agony with every step! I had to switch my bottle over to my left hand, but found it difficult to squeeze the bottle enough to get a good drink from it. So, I'd carry it in my right hand and drink while I walked, then switch to my left when I was going to run.
I think the problem in the back of my shoulder came from having my soft bottle in the top right pocket of my pack - I wouldn't take the bottle out to drink from it, I'd just lean my head down (and pull it up a bit) while walking so I could bite on the valve. All that head-down-and-to-the-right, despite being something I do in training, seems to have been too much for me as the clock crept toward 8 hours and beyond. I tried taking my shoe off (again) to get rid of the gravel, but it didn't seem to help.
Making the turn-around at Hammer View I grabbed 3 small pieces of dill pickle and a cup of ginger ale in hopes that they might jolt me out of the lightheadedness that continued to plague me. I understand now that it was most likely dehydration: despite going through more than a litre of water per hour (I was still killing off both of my 600ml bottles in between aid stations) and a cup of Skratch at each AS on top of that, I think poor hydration in the days leading up to the race saw me starting off at a bit of a deficit. Not needing to pee in the first 8hrs is a pretty solid indicator I wasn't doing well on that front! But, there was nothing I could do except continue to drink as much as I could, keep the calories coming, and keep myself upright and moving.
Of course, I did have to stop to sort out the gravel in my shoe. I rested my butt (without really sitting down) on the steel ledge of the industrial bridge over the road near Hammer View and took off my shoe AND sock to get rid of the gravel, but found something much worse - it looked like the BlisterShield powder had actually formed little lumps that were tearing the ball of my foot apart! I've been using the stuff for a couple of years now and had great success with it keeping my feet comfortable in wet and muddy races, but now it was causing the problem? It felt like the same thing that had happened at Sunburn Solstice all over again..
I wasn't bright enough to understand at the time that the BlisterShield was not the culprit, or not directly - it actually took me a couple of days to work out what had happened, and it is the exact same mechanism as my experience at Sunburn Solstice. In both cases the meat grinder action was caused by dust from the dry, gravelly trail making its way inside my sock and mixing with my own sweat, then drying into tiny clay-like pieces that acted just like fine gravel and sat directly against my skin.
The whole process may have been exacerbated by the presence of some prior residue inside my left sock - I'd noticed some white stuff in the left one when I was filling them with BlisterShield before putting them on that morning, and erroneously believed it might help. I didn't have trouble with my right foot until much later on in the race, and it never got as bad - that sock had been totally clean. It's also possible the loose lacing and resulting slippage inside my shoe was the reason my left foot was so much worse. All I know for sure is that it would feel like I was walking on hot coals for the rest of the day, though I could get a bit of relief by actually running; the blistering on the ball of my left foot didn't seem to hurt when I ran.
Of course, that wasn't happening much as I hiked the steepest sustained climb of the course back up to HQ from the turn-around. I ate a turkey wrap, looked fruitlessly for a place to have a wee, and just kept on moving as best I could. I ended up back at HQ around when I expected - around 1h30m - though the official split is much slower as it includes the time I spent at the aid station preparing for my 2nd long lap.
Tanker had been sweet enough to get some things prepared for me by the time I arrived, still feeling a bit lightheaded when I'd stop and especially when I'd lean over to mess with my shoe, but improving a little. I picked up my headlamp and a lightweight sweater, stowing them in various parts of my pack as the sun would be going down in around 2.5hrs. I was pretty sure I could make it to my drop bag before dark (the Participant Guide said that my outbound visit to Friendly Coyote would be at 77.75km), but didn't want to be left without light and warm clothing if I moved slower than anticipated. I got re-hosed with bug spray, as I'd already been harassed by some mosquitoes in a part of the trail where it ran near a bit of slow-moving or standing water, and the sunset would bring out even more bloodsuckers from which I simply couldn't run away. We discussed the ongoing lightheadedness and Byron asked if I was staying on top of hydration and nutrition, which I said I was (200+cal/hour & 1L+ per hour of water). Then he asked if I was peeing, which reminded me I needed to hit the portajohns before I left! Of course I did it the sucker's way, which was to head over before I crossed the timing mat...which meant I then had to walk all the way back to the start line once I'd had a pee and (ahem) "lost some additional weight", adding at least 150m to an already long day.
With bottles full and hopes for the lightheadedness improving as the sun lost its power and dropped, I set off to climb the other 6.5km until the trail flattened out. I'd also decided to move my soft bottle from my right shoulder to my left shoulder pocket of my pack in hopes it would help the stupid messed up muscle in my upper back settle down, and was delighted to discover that the bottle would no longer bounce annoyingly against my chest when I'd manage to stir myself to a run! At first I wondered if it was because I was better balanced somehow, but then realised it was actually my sweater in the main portion of the pack taking up space and making the vest fit tighter: there simply wasn't any more slack to let it bounce around. In any case, I'd take any improvement I could!
The problem with a course this long is that it makes it effin' impossible to remember where things are, and with HQ being at ~5.5k and the turn-around not being at an even kilometer marker, it makes trying to work out distances very difficult when you're already firmly in the grip of runner brain. I saw a beautiful little snake on the trail as I headed toward Opossum's Landing, still stirring myself into a run periodically. The road crossings actually worked to my advantage here: I'd see one ahead, then make myself run to it; it might only have been 50 steps, but every little bit helped move me along.
There was some hilarity born out of fatigue and a sense of my own absurdity - I heard some sheep or goats bleating in a pen beside the trail (though I couldn't see them through the leaves of trees and bushes), so I bleated right on back. I got an answering bleat, so bleated again, trying to strike up some kind of idiot conversation. I'm sure the runner I saw ahead could probably hear me, and might have thought me an idiot. I can't say he was wrong, but it was a few moment's entertainment as I walked along.
As the weather cooled I started to put a bit more running together - maybe 200 steps at a time - then had to walk for a significant stretch as I INHALED A DAMN BUG right to the back of my throat. Steven came trucking along the other way from the far point turn-around, looking very strong, and we wished each other well as I tried with water and some horrible noises in the back of my throat to properly clear my airway. It took at least 20mins, and tore my throat up in a way I hoped wouldn't worsen.
I reached the Friendly Coyote aid station after watching a truly beautiful sunset over the open fields in the middle portion of the long out-and-back, and stopped at my drop bag to take care of rather a lot of business. If I have one criticism of the HRC volunteers, it's that they did not offer any help with drop bags - those simply sat on a piece of plastic on the ground, which is very difficult to reach at 11 hours into a race. They had been nice enough to leave a folding camp chair nearby that I could put my drop bag on, though, while I pulled out the contents I'd need, and they did fill my bottles for me while I fussed with my gear.
I'd already started getting a low battery warning from my Garmin a few minutes earlier, so I plugged it into the small powerbank I'd stashed in my drop bag against this very issue (there was another power bank & Garmin cable in the UltraCooler™ at HQ if I needed it). I also grabbed more nutrition, then put on my waist light so as to have the most light possible heading into the night, and folded the tubular gaiter I'd been wearing on my wrist into a headband to cushion my noggin as I donned my headlamp. As a little pick-me-up, I had a couple of sprays of liquid vitamin B12, hoping they might energize me a bit as the day faded. I was about to set off when a chill breeze swept through, giving me the impetus to put on my sweater (leaving it fully un-zipped for the time being) while I could still set my vest down without spilling things everywhere.
Leaving the aid station, I actually started to feel pretty good - I was able to run a couple of really good chunks (like 400 steps each) on the flat-to-downhill section of the trail, and while my back was pretty warm with the sweater I wasn't overheating. I got maybe a kilometer away from Friendly Coyote, and then suddenly I needed to pee again; only a couple of hours since I'd hit the portajohn at HQ, so maybe I was finally getting the dehydration licked! I dropped to a walk, then turned to my left to look back and see if anyone coming or if I could safely pull off a trailside wee...and suddenly the top of my inner left thigh SCREAMED with pain.
I came to a halt, hurriedly trying to pin down the pain by jamming my fingertips into my thigh. It felt like a pulled or torn muscle, and I hoped I'd be able to manipulate it in such a way that it might keep functioning for me. It seemed to be in more than one place, though - both my adductor brevis and longus were horribly painful, with the highest concentrations of agony almost exactly where the green dots are on this anatomical diagram.
I got moving again, and discovered I could walk along pretty well if I was careful - I was still making about a 10:25/km pace as true darkness enveloped the trail and my view was reduced to the pools of light cast by my waist light and headlamp. The problem was, though, that I couldn't run at all - not a single step. When I'd land on my left leg it would feel like I was ripping the damaged muscles apart, so it looked like this had become a walk from there on in. I still had 19 hours until the cut-off, so walk I did - as quickly and efficiently as I could.
I discovered that my years of carrying my hand bottle in my right hand have conditioned me to keep my right arm from swinging, which meant I had to change it back over to my left hand in order to ensure I had a good arm-pumping action to help me power walk at a decent pace. I still wasn't able to drink from the bottle with my left hand, though, which meant a lot of juggling it back and forth as I went. I also knew from Sunburn Solstice that my pace slows significantly when I allow myself to slouch, so I had to keep reminding myself to keep my head up, shoulders down and back, and stride confidently. I could do this!
I passed Telephone City and headed for the turn-around, needing to stop to pee yet again along the way - I was keeping up hydration and nutrition to fuel my power walk, and the water was certainly having an effect now that I wasn't sweating nearly as much! When I reached the two sharper up-and-over hills by the 403 I discovered two things:
1) It was incredibly painful to walk uphill, as pulling my left leg forward and trying to raise my left knee put horrible strain on my sore adductors.
2) It was actually possible to launch myself into a shambling run on the downhills. While not pretty, it didn't seem to be harming the damaged muscles any further, and wasn't too painful (except on my right ankle, which was still being a whiner).
My headlamp began giving me a headache, and it was so hard to keep having to reset my posture every few seconds as my shoulders would creep up and my head would drop. Trying to keep my eyes up was especially challenging while trying not to step on the dozens of small toads hopping or just sitting on the trail. I also saw a skunk and 2 black cats (one of which crossed my path; another bad omen?) on the trail in dark, with an occasional bat flitting through my headlamp beam. It also illuminated endless moths with their glowing red eyes, and even a big spider whose eyes shone like jewels as he crawled along the trail in the opposite direction. The temperature dropped, and I had to do up my sweater against the chill, struggling with it as a bit of frayed string on my pack caught in the zipper. Some raccoon got uppity as I passed, making chittering noises at me from a tree; later, I heard a couple of others having a scrap right beside the trail. In the open fields I found foggy patches making wraiths in the light of my headlamp - I was happy to have waist light as well, to see the trail clearly below the mist, and grateful that the sleeves of my sweater were long enough to tuck in hands to ward off the cool, clammy air.
I hit my drop bag at Friendly Coyote again for a couple of spritzes of B12 and some more nutrition, but I was getting rather sick of sweet things and hadn't put anything salty in my drop bag - it was all at HQ, and I had a nasty, fuzzy coating on my teeth already. I ditched my empty gel flask in the bag and settled on another banana as the lovely HRC volunteers filled my bottles for me.
I was able to fling the peel properly off the trail this time, but that was about the only thing going right for me at this point. I was still managing a decent pace - around 10:30/km - but I'd suddenly find myself stumbling off the side of the flat trail, and into the grass, as my legs simply failed to do as they were told. I'd also keep catching my left foot on the gravel surface due to it being so painful to lift my leg, and of course the result was a shot of even worse pain as it put further strain on the adductors.
Making it even harder to keep up a decent walk was the fact I'd gone from not peeing at all, to every 2hrs, then every 90mins, down to once an hour, then finally every 30mins as I staggered along in the dark. My throat felt raw, but I finished off the last piece of bacon I had with me and my last salted maple crisp rice square, then turned to a Himalayan salt Brix gel as the least-sweet thing I had with me before just pouring an Endurance Tap down my throat. Usually I can't get enough maple syrup, but I was truly just sick of sugary flavours. I remembered I had picked up matcha latté Rekarb and figured I'd try that for a bit of caffeine (even if it was still maple syrup), but in my pain-and-fatigue-addled state I picked out the wrong coloured packet and got a cocoa one instead! In my defense, the cocoa ones are green for some reason; I'd forgotten the matcha ones are purple.
A kind fellow at Opossum's Landing helped me fill my bottle, as I had guessed wrong and filled it with Gatorade instead of water - fortunately I noticed the unwelcome blue tinge before putting the lid back on. He told me "let us help you - you're not in your right mind" , and I couldn't possibly have agreed more. The pain in my adductors had been getting worse, forcing me to jab my fingers, thumbs, and even the bottom of my bottle into the nexus - whatever I could use to pin it it enough to keep it functioning, even as it felt like being stabbed with every step.
I just needed to get myself back to HQ where I had more turkey wraps, bacon & salty nuts, not to mention Tanker.
When I finally arrived & Tank saw how badly I was hurting, he tried asking me to drop - he was having real trouble seeing me in such pain. I took care of all I needed to do to continue, though - I got another flask of EFS Liquid Shot, a nice salty turkey wrap, and picked up a pole to help me climb the hills down by the Hammer View turn-around one more time. Tank walked me down the again until the end of the clearing, then I continued on in the darkness with a lovely, bright moon emerging over the trail as I plodded along.
It seemed my poor luck was continuing. I tried eating some of my delicious turkey wrap, but my throat was so torn up and it tasted so dry I found it almost impossible to swallow. Far from helping, the pole actually seemed to be making me slower, then I managed to catch my left foot on it as I brought my leg forward - with a loud whimper at the sudden flash of pain, I nearly fell the hell over. I stowed the pole in the loops on the front of my pack and tried to get on with it, having to stop twice to pee on the way down the long hill. My only entertainment was either a skunk or raccoon running off the trail to the north and apparently into a pen full of hogs, which set up one heck of a racket in the darkness.
I staggered onward. There was no running on the downhill anymore - any attempt was agony.
I went through the turn-around first, having deployed the pole to haul myself bodily up the short hill to the aid station, and feeling a bit lightheaded again. I was honestly surprised by how fatigued I felt considering how relatively early it was - I am usually wide awake at night unless I make a dedicated effort to going to sleep, but the hours of being ridden by pain, mostly alone in the dark...well, it was wearing me down a touch. I stopped at the aid station and ate another small piece of pickle plus a cup of ginger ale, just to get some calories in. I'd managed a couple of bites of turkey wrap (about 2/3 of it), but my throat was sore and it was still SO DRY. I dumped another gel into me and had the last bite of wrap as I turned back toward HQ.
I'd totally failed to account for the effect 11km of climbing would have on both my pace and my leg. My 10-11min kilometres became 12-13min kilometres and my pain levels shot from a steady 4-5 up to a 6 or 7. I began to question my ability to endure for another 10+ hours to the cut-off.
At this point Garchun & Maryka passed me, so I took the opportunity to ask advice from a pair of seasoned veteran ultrarunners and just generally wonderful people. I asked in the darkness as they steadily pulled away from me: "As the badasses you are (because seriously they both have incredible palmeres), at what point do you just call it?" - they said you don't, and that people quit because they can. I asked how you cope with having been in horrible pain for so many hours, and Garchun said "you just have to accept that this is the way it is." They told me not to quit at HQ but to go at least to Opossum's Landing. Maryka was sweet enough to offer for them to stay with me until we got past HQ, but I declined - I didn't want to hold them back at my glacial pace, and I'd have to stop at my bag for more nutrition and my wind vest. I made the tactical error of putting the lighter sweater in the UltraCooler (then having to carry it all the way to my drop bag before needing it), and the heavier sweater in the drop bag where it wasn't handy for the early morning chill. Three more hours til sunrise, which meant I needed to change headlamp batteries as well; there were so many things going wrong that I had no way to fix, but at least I could do something about the waning glow that followed my gaze, and I could use all the cheering light I could get. I pulled over to a bench but DID NOT SIT DOWN - I just leaned over with batteries and headlamp on the bench in pool of light from my waist belt. On top of being tough to get calories due to my torn up throat (hard to swallow), it was hard to drink because my hands were too chilly and tired to squeeze my bottle. I was ugly crying from the pain of dragging myself uphill and shivering from fatigue/cold as I finally approached HQ; it was crushing being able to see the red light of the time clock for almost a kilometer away. Everything on that damn trail took forever, with the effect doubled after dark.
As I sobbed my way over to the aid station, even Grace was saying maybe I shouldn't go on, but I knew I could still make it in the 10hrs I had left if I kept moving. I got my Garmin on charge; Heather gave me shoulder/neck/calf massages & hugs, then helped me get my vest on to keep my core warm. I picked up some salted nuts, crisp rice squares, bacon, another turkey wrap, and some chocolate chip cookies. I tried to drink a cup of Skratch but it was too much for my throat.
I went to head out, but I couldn't even side-step my way up the 18" berm onto the trail - Tank had to pull my whole weight up by my hands, one of which he held as he walked and I limped west toward Brantford, crying as I went. I felt horrible after I looked down at my Garmin and saw our pace was 18min/km - far slower than I could move if I was going to finish. I had to tell him that I had to go - that I needed to move faster, so had to leave him or I'd run out of time. I wish someone had got a photo of the two of us, as walking hand in hand with him out of HQ is a memory I think I'll always treasure; it's one of the only moments I really want to remember.
Going back out into the dark, facing another 6km of uphill and 43km of agony was the hardest thing I've ever done. My blistered feet from walking so much still felt like treading on hot coals - the right foot felt almost as bad as the left now, with a juicy blister coming up in the same spot between big & second toe. Even my quads were getting sore from so much unaccustomed walking. Nonetheless, I gave myself a mental slap in the face and yelled at myself mentally - "you've had your pity party, now get back to work!" - then picked it back up to a 12-13min/km walk. I was fully focused on making it to my drop bag at Friendly Coyote: the sun would be up by then, so I could ditch the heavy waist light and my headache-inducing headlamp. My Garmin would be charged enough to last until the cut-off so I could drop off the powerbank, and hopefully warm up & not feel so hopelessly alone in dark. I was also counting on a lift from some caffeinated gels - I was almost getting the spins when I'd close my eyes to rub them, and felt on the verge of hallucinating. I could have sworn, as the sky turned to purple, that a fallen branch covered in dead leaves was actually a couple of young deer eating grass at side of trail.
As if the agony of walking uphill - still occasionally catching my foot on the ground as it became more and more impossible to lift my left leg and pull it forward to take a step - wasn't enough, I had gone about 5km when I got another piece of gravel in my left shoe! I'd have just ignored it if I could, but it was quite sharp and stabbing into my heel, which was literally one of the only parts of me that didn't hurt. So, at the next road crossing, I stopped & hoisted my left foot (by pulling on my kneecap with my hands) onto the gate's crossbar, but it was simply too painful to lean forward to reach the shoe; it felt like I was tearing straight through the muscles as my chest approached my knee. In defeat, I pulled my foot off crossbar by the kneecap & let it drop last 8" or so to the ground.
As soon as my leg extended, the pain was suddenly SO MUCH WORSE. No amount of pinning with thumbs or fingers seemed able to bring it down from a 9/10, and even walking became almost impossible. I was now only able to limp along at 16+min/km, almost dragging my injured leg as it had no strength at all & was so agonizing to bring forward. This persisted even after I passed the 12km mark and the trail flattened out, and I couldn't imagine how I could manage to stagger on through this for another almost 9 hours.
My race ended with me whimpering and ugly crying the last 2.5km to Opossum's Landing just as the sky began to lighten, knowing I would only miss the cut-off even if I continued to try to deal with the pain (that had been riding me for 10hrs by then) for another 35km.
After refusing offers to sit all night long, kind people brought chair onto trail for me & 2 gents lowered me into it as I screamed and then blubbered away, explaining my issues just as dawn truly broke. Having explained my plan had been to get to my drop bag (not least because I had a heavier sweater there; I was pretty chilly), Viking Steve asked if I wanted him to take me to the next aid station...but there was really neither any point nor any way I could see, though I appreciated the offer.
Jer showed up at the aid station waiting to pace Sasha & hugged me & sat with me, being kind and gentle - it was nice to have a friend there after all I'd been through. All of the Burly runners were so nice to me, and a lovely lady named Audrey gave me a ride back to HQ so I could find Tanker and some dry clothes. So very disappointed.
I certainly wasn't the only DNF on the day - out of 28 who started, there were only 16 finishers, and most of the DNFs happened at the end of the second full lap whereas I continued down to Hammer View for the 3rd time, and beyond. Honestly it seems like this race might have been cursed from the start for me, but I put my whole being - every last ounce of effort - into finishing until it became clear there was no possible way to make it happen. It kills me that my legs haven't even really been all that sore since - I had so much more to give but my treasonous body wouldn't let me.
I took an Epsom salt bath (in which I fell asleep 3 times) when we got home, then showered off and slept for 5 hours before hobbling 'round the grocery store. Getting in & out of the car was excruciating, and I had to climb stairs with my right leg only. I took a sick day from work on Monday, as I still couldn't turn over in bed without my leg screaming at me, let alone walk or drive. I was fortunate that my RMT was able to identify the problem as I texted with her on Monday morning, though; rather than the torn muscle I suspected, she told me it was likely a nerve issue in my lower back, and suggested some stretches. As soon as I did them - before even getting out of bed - I had immediate improvement! Suddenly movement was possible again, with some care. As I stretched periodically through the day, the progress continued; I was actually able to get out for a couple of short walks, even up a gentle hill or two, and was able to return to work and drive by Tuesday morning. I'm grateful to have such an amazing friend and caregiver!
I hit up the aid station at HQ and was grateful to find Tanker giving me his full attention as I got rid of my trash and now-empty gel flask, dropped off my phone, and downed another cup of Skratch drink. Not wanting to wander off with no nutrition this time, I grabbed a turkey wrap, another packet with 2 slices of back bacon, a couple of additional packets of Endurance Tap, a baggie with 3 more crisp rice squares, and re-filled my little flip-top bottle with S!caps. I also picked up full flask of EFS Liquid Shot, putting it in the pocket of my vest vacated by my phone - I'd had the first one in the thigh pocket of my skirt all day so far, and now my left quads felt rather tender where it seemed to have bruised my thigh as it bounced around. I've never had that happen before. A lot of things were terribly sore, though: my upper back and neck were tight and hurting, the outside of my shoulders felt bruised, and even the fat on the back of my arms felt sore from all the bouncing around. No time to feel sorry for myself, though - I needed to get moving before I stiffened up.
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| I'd meant to get a photo of Tank and I together at the aid station, but totally forgot...so this one from before the race will have to do. |
So, off and away for my second lap of the course, and Tanker was even sweet enough to walk with me out to the end of the Trail Centre clearing as I headed back downhill toward Hammer View and the Darkside Runners. I did manage to run a little, but I was mostly walking - I knew I still had almost 23 hours before the 30hr cut-off, so figured there was no harm in trying to take it easy on my body as my hamstrings and ankle continued to complain. I'd told Tank it would probably take me at least an hour and a half to make it back to HQ, so I knew he wouldn't be worrying about me too much...though I'd told him about the lightheadedness, and can't say he wasn't concerned.
It was on my way down that a few of additional complications arose:
1) I finally had to pee. I kept trying to find a place to do so, but there's no cover available and there were loads of people on the trail (it being around 4:30pm on a lovely Saturday afternoon now).
2) My left shoe felt like it had about a teaspoon full of gravel in it.
3) Most immediately concerning, something in the back of my right shoulder twanged nastily and locked up, making moving my right arm very painful. I carry my hand bottle in my right hand, and trying to run with it was agony with every step! I had to switch my bottle over to my left hand, but found it difficult to squeeze the bottle enough to get a good drink from it. So, I'd carry it in my right hand and drink while I walked, then switch to my left when I was going to run.
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| Which did still happen from time to time. |
I think the problem in the back of my shoulder came from having my soft bottle in the top right pocket of my pack - I wouldn't take the bottle out to drink from it, I'd just lean my head down (and pull it up a bit) while walking so I could bite on the valve. All that head-down-and-to-the-right, despite being something I do in training, seems to have been too much for me as the clock crept toward 8 hours and beyond. I tried taking my shoe off (again) to get rid of the gravel, but it didn't seem to help.
Making the turn-around at Hammer View I grabbed 3 small pieces of dill pickle and a cup of ginger ale in hopes that they might jolt me out of the lightheadedness that continued to plague me. I understand now that it was most likely dehydration: despite going through more than a litre of water per hour (I was still killing off both of my 600ml bottles in between aid stations) and a cup of Skratch at each AS on top of that, I think poor hydration in the days leading up to the race saw me starting off at a bit of a deficit. Not needing to pee in the first 8hrs is a pretty solid indicator I wasn't doing well on that front! But, there was nothing I could do except continue to drink as much as I could, keep the calories coming, and keep myself upright and moving.
Of course, I did have to stop to sort out the gravel in my shoe. I rested my butt (without really sitting down) on the steel ledge of the industrial bridge over the road near Hammer View and took off my shoe AND sock to get rid of the gravel, but found something much worse - it looked like the BlisterShield powder had actually formed little lumps that were tearing the ball of my foot apart! I've been using the stuff for a couple of years now and had great success with it keeping my feet comfortable in wet and muddy races, but now it was causing the problem? It felt like the same thing that had happened at Sunburn Solstice all over again..
I wasn't bright enough to understand at the time that the BlisterShield was not the culprit, or not directly - it actually took me a couple of days to work out what had happened, and it is the exact same mechanism as my experience at Sunburn Solstice. In both cases the meat grinder action was caused by dust from the dry, gravelly trail making its way inside my sock and mixing with my own sweat, then drying into tiny clay-like pieces that acted just like fine gravel and sat directly against my skin.
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| Causing these. I can't remember exactly when the big one between my toes burst.. |
The whole process may have been exacerbated by the presence of some prior residue inside my left sock - I'd noticed some white stuff in the left one when I was filling them with BlisterShield before putting them on that morning, and erroneously believed it might help. I didn't have trouble with my right foot until much later on in the race, and it never got as bad - that sock had been totally clean. It's also possible the loose lacing and resulting slippage inside my shoe was the reason my left foot was so much worse. All I know for sure is that it would feel like I was walking on hot coals for the rest of the day, though I could get a bit of relief by actually running; the blistering on the ball of my left foot didn't seem to hurt when I ran.
Of course, that wasn't happening much as I hiked the steepest sustained climb of the course back up to HQ from the turn-around. I ate a turkey wrap, looked fruitlessly for a place to have a wee, and just kept on moving as best I could. I ended up back at HQ around when I expected - around 1h30m - though the official split is much slower as it includes the time I spent at the aid station preparing for my 2nd long lap.
63.66k time: 8:50:03 @ 8:20/km
10k split: 1:51:52 @ 11:11/km
Tanker had been sweet enough to get some things prepared for me by the time I arrived, still feeling a bit lightheaded when I'd stop and especially when I'd lean over to mess with my shoe, but improving a little. I picked up my headlamp and a lightweight sweater, stowing them in various parts of my pack as the sun would be going down in around 2.5hrs. I was pretty sure I could make it to my drop bag before dark (the Participant Guide said that my outbound visit to Friendly Coyote would be at 77.75km), but didn't want to be left without light and warm clothing if I moved slower than anticipated. I got re-hosed with bug spray, as I'd already been harassed by some mosquitoes in a part of the trail where it ran near a bit of slow-moving or standing water, and the sunset would bring out even more bloodsuckers from which I simply couldn't run away. We discussed the ongoing lightheadedness and Byron asked if I was staying on top of hydration and nutrition, which I said I was (200+cal/hour & 1L+ per hour of water). Then he asked if I was peeing, which reminded me I needed to hit the portajohns before I left! Of course I did it the sucker's way, which was to head over before I crossed the timing mat...which meant I then had to walk all the way back to the start line once I'd had a pee and (ahem) "lost some additional weight", adding at least 150m to an already long day.
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| You can actually see the little out-and-back near the green pin on this map from my Garmin |
With bottles full and hopes for the lightheadedness improving as the sun lost its power and dropped, I set off to climb the other 6.5km until the trail flattened out. I'd also decided to move my soft bottle from my right shoulder to my left shoulder pocket of my pack in hopes it would help the stupid messed up muscle in my upper back settle down, and was delighted to discover that the bottle would no longer bounce annoyingly against my chest when I'd manage to stir myself to a run! At first I wondered if it was because I was better balanced somehow, but then realised it was actually my sweater in the main portion of the pack taking up space and making the vest fit tighter: there simply wasn't any more slack to let it bounce around. In any case, I'd take any improvement I could!
The problem with a course this long is that it makes it effin' impossible to remember where things are, and with HQ being at ~5.5k and the turn-around not being at an even kilometer marker, it makes trying to work out distances very difficult when you're already firmly in the grip of runner brain. I saw a beautiful little snake on the trail as I headed toward Opossum's Landing, still stirring myself into a run periodically. The road crossings actually worked to my advantage here: I'd see one ahead, then make myself run to it; it might only have been 50 steps, but every little bit helped move me along.
There was some hilarity born out of fatigue and a sense of my own absurdity - I heard some sheep or goats bleating in a pen beside the trail (though I couldn't see them through the leaves of trees and bushes), so I bleated right on back. I got an answering bleat, so bleated again, trying to strike up some kind of idiot conversation. I'm sure the runner I saw ahead could probably hear me, and might have thought me an idiot. I can't say he was wrong, but it was a few moment's entertainment as I walked along.
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| Looking almost as rough as I feel coming into Temptation Station Photo by Patty |
As the weather cooled I started to put a bit more running together - maybe 200 steps at a time - then had to walk for a significant stretch as I INHALED A DAMN BUG right to the back of my throat. Steven came trucking along the other way from the far point turn-around, looking very strong, and we wished each other well as I tried with water and some horrible noises in the back of my throat to properly clear my airway. It took at least 20mins, and tore my throat up in a way I hoped wouldn't worsen.
I reached the Friendly Coyote aid station after watching a truly beautiful sunset over the open fields in the middle portion of the long out-and-back, and stopped at my drop bag to take care of rather a lot of business. If I have one criticism of the HRC volunteers, it's that they did not offer any help with drop bags - those simply sat on a piece of plastic on the ground, which is very difficult to reach at 11 hours into a race. They had been nice enough to leave a folding camp chair nearby that I could put my drop bag on, though, while I pulled out the contents I'd need, and they did fill my bottles for me while I fussed with my gear.
I'd already started getting a low battery warning from my Garmin a few minutes earlier, so I plugged it into the small powerbank I'd stashed in my drop bag against this very issue (there was another power bank & Garmin cable in the UltraCooler™ at HQ if I needed it). I also grabbed more nutrition, then put on my waist light so as to have the most light possible heading into the night, and folded the tubular gaiter I'd been wearing on my wrist into a headband to cushion my noggin as I donned my headlamp. As a little pick-me-up, I had a couple of sprays of liquid vitamin B12, hoping they might energize me a bit as the day faded. I was about to set off when a chill breeze swept through, giving me the impetus to put on my sweater (leaving it fully un-zipped for the time being) while I could still set my vest down without spilling things everywhere.
Leaving the aid station, I actually started to feel pretty good - I was able to run a couple of really good chunks (like 400 steps each) on the flat-to-downhill section of the trail, and while my back was pretty warm with the sweater I wasn't overheating. I got maybe a kilometer away from Friendly Coyote, and then suddenly I needed to pee again; only a couple of hours since I'd hit the portajohn at HQ, so maybe I was finally getting the dehydration licked! I dropped to a walk, then turned to my left to look back and see if anyone coming or if I could safely pull off a trailside wee...and suddenly the top of my inner left thigh SCREAMED with pain.
I came to a halt, hurriedly trying to pin down the pain by jamming my fingertips into my thigh. It felt like a pulled or torn muscle, and I hoped I'd be able to manipulate it in such a way that it might keep functioning for me. It seemed to be in more than one place, though - both my adductor brevis and longus were horribly painful, with the highest concentrations of agony almost exactly where the green dots are on this anatomical diagram.
I got moving again, and discovered I could walk along pretty well if I was careful - I was still making about a 10:25/km pace as true darkness enveloped the trail and my view was reduced to the pools of light cast by my waist light and headlamp. The problem was, though, that I couldn't run at all - not a single step. When I'd land on my left leg it would feel like I was ripping the damaged muscles apart, so it looked like this had become a walk from there on in. I still had 19 hours until the cut-off, so walk I did - as quickly and efficiently as I could.
I discovered that my years of carrying my hand bottle in my right hand have conditioned me to keep my right arm from swinging, which meant I had to change it back over to my left hand in order to ensure I had a good arm-pumping action to help me power walk at a decent pace. I still wasn't able to drink from the bottle with my left hand, though, which meant a lot of juggling it back and forth as I went. I also knew from Sunburn Solstice that my pace slows significantly when I allow myself to slouch, so I had to keep reminding myself to keep my head up, shoulders down and back, and stride confidently. I could do this!
I passed Telephone City and headed for the turn-around, needing to stop to pee yet again along the way - I was keeping up hydration and nutrition to fuel my power walk, and the water was certainly having an effect now that I wasn't sweating nearly as much! When I reached the two sharper up-and-over hills by the 403 I discovered two things:
1) It was incredibly painful to walk uphill, as pulling my left leg forward and trying to raise my left knee put horrible strain on my sore adductors.
2) It was actually possible to launch myself into a shambling run on the downhills. While not pretty, it didn't seem to be harming the damaged muscles any further, and wasn't too painful (except on my right ankle, which was still being a whiner).
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| Let's just pretend this pic from the bridge at the turn-around is in darkness, with me in a sweater, headlamp, waist light, and immense pain. |
I crossed the bridge, then began the long trek back to headquarters in the darkness, seeing very few other people on the trail as the shorter distance runners finished and other 100 miles dropped out. Being unable to run meant the blisters on my feet worsened, with my right foot bursting into pain as well as I continued to walk along hour after hour. The kitty I saw hanging out at the Telephone City aid station on my way back provided a rare moment of happiness, along with the kindness of the volunteers.
I hit my drop bag at Friendly Coyote again for a couple of spritzes of B12 and some more nutrition, but I was getting rather sick of sweet things and hadn't put anything salty in my drop bag - it was all at HQ, and I had a nasty, fuzzy coating on my teeth already. I ditched my empty gel flask in the bag and settled on another banana as the lovely HRC volunteers filled my bottles for me.
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| I loved the skulls and candles they set out after dark! |
I was able to fling the peel properly off the trail this time, but that was about the only thing going right for me at this point. I was still managing a decent pace - around 10:30/km - but I'd suddenly find myself stumbling off the side of the flat trail, and into the grass, as my legs simply failed to do as they were told. I'd also keep catching my left foot on the gravel surface due to it being so painful to lift my leg, and of course the result was a shot of even worse pain as it put further strain on the adductors.
Making it even harder to keep up a decent walk was the fact I'd gone from not peeing at all, to every 2hrs, then every 90mins, down to once an hour, then finally every 30mins as I staggered along in the dark. My throat felt raw, but I finished off the last piece of bacon I had with me and my last salted maple crisp rice square, then turned to a Himalayan salt Brix gel as the least-sweet thing I had with me before just pouring an Endurance Tap down my throat. Usually I can't get enough maple syrup, but I was truly just sick of sugary flavours. I remembered I had picked up matcha latté Rekarb and figured I'd try that for a bit of caffeine (even if it was still maple syrup), but in my pain-and-fatigue-addled state I picked out the wrong coloured packet and got a cocoa one instead! In my defense, the cocoa ones are green for some reason; I'd forgotten the matcha ones are purple.
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| I also totally mistook a friend for someone else at Temptation Station |
A kind fellow at Opossum's Landing helped me fill my bottle, as I had guessed wrong and filled it with Gatorade instead of water - fortunately I noticed the unwelcome blue tinge before putting the lid back on. He told me "let us help you - you're not in your right mind" , and I couldn't possibly have agreed more. The pain in my adductors had been getting worse, forcing me to jab my fingers, thumbs, and even the bottom of my bottle into the nexus - whatever I could use to pin it it enough to keep it functioning, even as it felt like being stabbed with every step.
I just needed to get myself back to HQ where I had more turkey wraps, bacon & salty nuts, not to mention Tanker.
106.33k time: 17:04:44 @ 9:38/km
42.67k split: 8:14:41 @ 11:36
(That should be 107.33k & 43.67k, but the timing company did some math incorrectly)
When I finally arrived & Tank saw how badly I was hurting, he tried asking me to drop - he was having real trouble seeing me in such pain. I took care of all I needed to do to continue, though - I got another flask of EFS Liquid Shot, a nice salty turkey wrap, and picked up a pole to help me climb the hills down by the Hammer View turn-around one more time. Tank walked me down the again until the end of the clearing, then I continued on in the darkness with a lovely, bright moon emerging over the trail as I plodded along.
It seemed my poor luck was continuing. I tried eating some of my delicious turkey wrap, but my throat was so torn up and it tasted so dry I found it almost impossible to swallow. Far from helping, the pole actually seemed to be making me slower, then I managed to catch my left foot on it as I brought my leg forward - with a loud whimper at the sudden flash of pain, I nearly fell the hell over. I stowed the pole in the loops on the front of my pack and tried to get on with it, having to stop twice to pee on the way down the long hill. My only entertainment was either a skunk or raccoon running off the trail to the north and apparently into a pen full of hogs, which set up one heck of a racket in the darkness.
I staggered onward. There was no running on the downhill anymore - any attempt was agony.
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| Still Christmas at Hammer View |
I went through the turn-around first, having deployed the pole to haul myself bodily up the short hill to the aid station, and feeling a bit lightheaded again. I was honestly surprised by how fatigued I felt considering how relatively early it was - I am usually wide awake at night unless I make a dedicated effort to going to sleep, but the hours of being ridden by pain, mostly alone in the dark...well, it was wearing me down a touch. I stopped at the aid station and ate another small piece of pickle plus a cup of ginger ale, just to get some calories in. I'd managed a couple of bites of turkey wrap (about 2/3 of it), but my throat was sore and it was still SO DRY. I dumped another gel into me and had the last bite of wrap as I turned back toward HQ.
I'd totally failed to account for the effect 11km of climbing would have on both my pace and my leg. My 10-11min kilometres became 12-13min kilometres and my pain levels shot from a steady 4-5 up to a 6 or 7. I began to question my ability to endure for another 10+ hours to the cut-off.
At this point Garchun & Maryka passed me, so I took the opportunity to ask advice from a pair of seasoned veteran ultrarunners and just generally wonderful people. I asked in the darkness as they steadily pulled away from me: "As the badasses you are (because seriously they both have incredible palmeres), at what point do you just call it?" - they said you don't, and that people quit because they can. I asked how you cope with having been in horrible pain for so many hours, and Garchun said "you just have to accept that this is the way it is." They told me not to quit at HQ but to go at least to Opossum's Landing. Maryka was sweet enough to offer for them to stay with me until we got past HQ, but I declined - I didn't want to hold them back at my glacial pace, and I'd have to stop at my bag for more nutrition and my wind vest. I made the tactical error of putting the lighter sweater in the UltraCooler (then having to carry it all the way to my drop bag before needing it), and the heavier sweater in the drop bag where it wasn't handy for the early morning chill. Three more hours til sunrise, which meant I needed to change headlamp batteries as well; there were so many things going wrong that I had no way to fix, but at least I could do something about the waning glow that followed my gaze, and I could use all the cheering light I could get. I pulled over to a bench but DID NOT SIT DOWN - I just leaned over with batteries and headlamp on the bench in pool of light from my waist belt. On top of being tough to get calories due to my torn up throat (hard to swallow), it was hard to drink because my hands were too chilly and tired to squeeze my bottle. I was ugly crying from the pain of dragging myself uphill and shivering from fatigue/cold as I finally approached HQ; it was crushing being able to see the red light of the time clock for almost a kilometer away. Everything on that damn trail took forever, with the effect doubled after dark.
116.33k time: 19:40:11 @ 10:09/km
10k split: 2:35:27 @ 15:33/km
(Yes, that should be 117.33k, but...math)
As I sobbed my way over to the aid station, even Grace was saying maybe I shouldn't go on, but I knew I could still make it in the 10hrs I had left if I kept moving. I got my Garmin on charge; Heather gave me shoulder/neck/calf massages & hugs, then helped me get my vest on to keep my core warm. I picked up some salted nuts, crisp rice squares, bacon, another turkey wrap, and some chocolate chip cookies. I tried to drink a cup of Skratch but it was too much for my throat.
I went to head out, but I couldn't even side-step my way up the 18" berm onto the trail - Tank had to pull my whole weight up by my hands, one of which he held as he walked and I limped west toward Brantford, crying as I went. I felt horrible after I looked down at my Garmin and saw our pace was 18min/km - far slower than I could move if I was going to finish. I had to tell him that I had to go - that I needed to move faster, so had to leave him or I'd run out of time. I wish someone had got a photo of the two of us, as walking hand in hand with him out of HQ is a memory I think I'll always treasure; it's one of the only moments I really want to remember.
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| So I drew this. Poorly. |
Going back out into the dark, facing another 6km of uphill and 43km of agony was the hardest thing I've ever done. My blistered feet from walking so much still felt like treading on hot coals - the right foot felt almost as bad as the left now, with a juicy blister coming up in the same spot between big & second toe. Even my quads were getting sore from so much unaccustomed walking. Nonetheless, I gave myself a mental slap in the face and yelled at myself mentally - "you've had your pity party, now get back to work!" - then picked it back up to a 12-13min/km walk. I was fully focused on making it to my drop bag at Friendly Coyote: the sun would be up by then, so I could ditch the heavy waist light and my headache-inducing headlamp. My Garmin would be charged enough to last until the cut-off so I could drop off the powerbank, and hopefully warm up & not feel so hopelessly alone in dark. I was also counting on a lift from some caffeinated gels - I was almost getting the spins when I'd close my eyes to rub them, and felt on the verge of hallucinating. I could have sworn, as the sky turned to purple, that a fallen branch covered in dead leaves was actually a couple of young deer eating grass at side of trail.
As if the agony of walking uphill - still occasionally catching my foot on the ground as it became more and more impossible to lift my left leg and pull it forward to take a step - wasn't enough, I had gone about 5km when I got another piece of gravel in my left shoe! I'd have just ignored it if I could, but it was quite sharp and stabbing into my heel, which was literally one of the only parts of me that didn't hurt. So, at the next road crossing, I stopped & hoisted my left foot (by pulling on my kneecap with my hands) onto the gate's crossbar, but it was simply too painful to lean forward to reach the shoe; it felt like I was tearing straight through the muscles as my chest approached my knee. In defeat, I pulled my foot off crossbar by the kneecap & let it drop last 8" or so to the ground.
As soon as my leg extended, the pain was suddenly SO MUCH WORSE. No amount of pinning with thumbs or fingers seemed able to bring it down from a 9/10, and even walking became almost impossible. I was now only able to limp along at 16+min/km, almost dragging my injured leg as it had no strength at all & was so agonizing to bring forward. This persisted even after I passed the 12km mark and the trail flattened out, and I couldn't imagine how I could manage to stagger on through this for another almost 9 hours.
My race ended with me whimpering and ugly crying the last 2.5km to Opossum's Landing just as the sky began to lighten, knowing I would only miss the cut-off even if I continued to try to deal with the pain (that had been riding me for 10hrs by then) for another 35km.
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| There was probably no better place to quit, really. |
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| Not to mention his Viking hat, and Krista's kitty onesie |
Jer showed up at the aid station waiting to pace Sasha & hugged me & sat with me, being kind and gentle - it was nice to have a friend there after all I'd been through. All of the Burly runners were so nice to me, and a lovely lady named Audrey gave me a ride back to HQ so I could find Tanker and some dry clothes. So very disappointed.
DNF @ 125.5k: 21:23:00 (approximate) @ 10:13/km
7.5k split to Opossum's Landing: 1:42:49 @ 13:43/km
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| Knowing I gave it my best shot and didn't give up until I was no longer physically capable of finishing under the cut-off were not much consolation. |
I certainly wasn't the only DNF on the day - out of 28 who started, there were only 16 finishers, and most of the DNFs happened at the end of the second full lap whereas I continued down to Hammer View for the 3rd time, and beyond. Honestly it seems like this race might have been cursed from the start for me, but I put my whole being - every last ounce of effort - into finishing until it became clear there was no possible way to make it happen. It kills me that my legs haven't even really been all that sore since - I had so much more to give but my treasonous body wouldn't let me.
I took an Epsom salt bath (in which I fell asleep 3 times) when we got home, then showered off and slept for 5 hours before hobbling 'round the grocery store. Getting in & out of the car was excruciating, and I had to climb stairs with my right leg only. I took a sick day from work on Monday, as I still couldn't turn over in bed without my leg screaming at me, let alone walk or drive. I was fortunate that my RMT was able to identify the problem as I texted with her on Monday morning, though; rather than the torn muscle I suspected, she told me it was likely a nerve issue in my lower back, and suggested some stretches. As soon as I did them - before even getting out of bed - I had immediate improvement! Suddenly movement was possible again, with some care. As I stretched periodically through the day, the progress continued; I was actually able to get out for a couple of short walks, even up a gentle hill or two, and was able to return to work and drive by Tuesday morning. I'm grateful to have such an amazing friend and caregiver!
Here's the real kicker, though: after beating myself up all day Monday about how I might have shot myself in the foot by going climbing and caving on our camping trip less than 2 weeks before the race, or by doing some creek yoga the Wednesday of race week, it was just before I went to bed on Monday night that I finally figured out what caused the nerve issue. On Friday - the day before the biggest race of my life - my boss had changed out the office chair in which I've spent 35+ hours per week for the last 16 years of my life, for a new one. It had this weird air cushion in the seat, and I felt like I was being tipped out of it, so I told him after 2hrs that I'd like my old chair back. He suggested I trade it for a different new one he'd bought for someone else in the office, so I gave it a try.
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| This cushy-looking thing |
After 3 hours in this thing - whose seat was too long/deep for my femur length, meaning I couldn't reach the backrest - my lower back and left hip had become increasingly painful. I remember thinking at the time it was the worst possible day for this to happen, and told my boss I needed my old chair back. I was able to get a slightly newer version of my comfortable chair, and spent the last 3 hours of my day in it, but I guess the damage was already done; the calf cramp and leg numbness the next morning, then the implosion of my adductors would certainly suggest so.
Nine months of dedicated training and 21 hours of pain, all for nothing because of a stupid gawddamn chair. I know my boss was just trying to do something nice for me, but I'm pretty sure that just proves that the road to hell truly is paved with good intentions.
May you never have a race stolen from you by poor timing and sadistic furniture.
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