Uphill Battle

 My ankle is a jerk.

Maybe I just need to learn how to hop?

So I've been doing a lot of not-really-running, in an attempt to let it heal a bit. 

..as well as enjoying some other hobbies.

Of course, I'm not very good at staying off my feet...so I've been trying to stick to soft surfaces like trails.

Which has also let me catch the peak of trillium season

These are all very lazy "I'm all on my own and doing whatever the heck I want" trail jaunts - traipsing through the delicious scents of lilacs and lily of the valley - but the majority of them still tend to be running vs walking. 

 

Sometimes it's just a 51% majority, but still

On pavement, though - the only thing that I really have access to during the week - I mostly walk. In order to try to preserve some shred of fitness, I've had to get a bit creative with ways to get my heart rate up. Sometimes that means adding an element of resistance.

Though it does tend to be a bit tire-ing

Towing Priscilla around for a few kilometers not only provides a decent workout - especially with a few teenytiny run intervals - but also gives my neighbours a decent laugh at the idiot in the inner tube harness doing the dragging.

Fortunately I learned to stop taking myself seriously ages ago

But mostly what I do is try to find ways to go up.

Spotted: a prime candidate

I've kind of avoided running hills - particularly hill repeats - for ages, much to my detriment. I mean, I mostly walk them in races (as if I've actually raced in years) anyway, so what's the point of running them in training? I'd "power hike" instead.

I mean I'd run up little ones like this...but just in passing, not as repeats.

Here's the thing: I'm trying to avoid too much impact force on my grouchy ankle, and running uphill is much easier on your joints than running on flats or (particularly) downhills. So, with the above hill being around the back of the larger crescent off which my street curves, I can get a good brisk walk in (maybe half a kilometer) to the bottom of it, then run up it and walk back down again.

I may or may not have done that a baker's dozen times last week, and then walked the half-kilometer home from the top of it.

Passing a lilac bush in full bloom on each repeat

If I'm feeling brave, I'll go for something bigger.

Like this heckin thing

I live on top of a good size hill, with 5 ways (that I know of) to climb it - 2 of them have sidewalks or multi-use trails, one only has sidewalk for the top third, one (pictured above) is an access driveway for a stormwater management pond, and one is a trail strewn with fallen trees that doesn't actually go all the way to the top.

No sidewalks til you're already out of breath

This means I can go for a walk in almost any direction until I reach the bottom of the hill, then go climb it a different way. Hiking up Shantz Hill is a decent workout itself, but I've actually been shocked to find that I'm stronger running up hills than I would have expected.

Which is a pretty pleasant surprise, let me tell you

I don't know how well my fitness preservation strategy will work when I eventually get back to more sustained running, but it's better than nothing and is at least helping me avoid weight gain while I try to let things heal. I really long for the days of spending hours just rambling around in the woods, and can only hope I'll be back to them soon.

At least I'm still getting a taste, even if it only leaves me wanting more.

Fingers crossed I'll get this thing licked, without too much more of an uphill battle..

Pick Your Poison Trail Run 50k - Saturday, April 30th, 2022

 April had not been a good month for me, which gave me a lot of excuses to bag off this race.

Which I have a habit of calling "Pick your fish" as a lame French pun

I didn't know how it was going to go: would I be able to finish under the 9-hour cutoff? Would I be able to finish at all? Would I ever walk again afterward, let alone run? The only thing I was sure of was that I'd show the heck up and try - if nothing else, there was a Garmin badge for a 15km run that had to be completed some time in the month of April. Here it was the last day of the month, and I hadn't actually managed to get in 15k in one go yet...so I had to try for at least 2 laps, which would give me 25k.

Somehow that was worth getting up at 4am and on the road before sunrise

I didn't really do much to mitigate the injuries: one single piece of kinesio tape for the still-sore knee from the hockey tournament (which somehow made the knee hurt a little more once it was on - not a great sign!), and one more piece in a sort of tibialis posterior support application. If my ankle was gonna go, it was gonna go; I wasn't going to try the rigid strapping on it for 50k, and I even left both of my ankle wrap braces at home. I promised Tanker that if it felt like I was doing damage, I'd just shut it down. I got some oatmeal into me, completely forgot to add the tape that helps support my grouchy left hip/glutes, grabbed a soft, warm blanket, and hopped in the car. 

T.Ho's stop for breakfast for Tank - who is a freakin' gem of a human for not only dealing with a 4.25am wake-up, but who also made us amazing coffee before we left - then I kicked my seat back and not-quite-napped under my blanket while he drove through the dawn to get us up to Horseshoe Valley for 7am.

I hadn't got to bed until after 11:30pm, so I needed all the rest I could get with the new 8am 50k start time

It was lovely to see so many people out at the race that I'd been missing for the last couple of years: there was no registration opened for the 2022 event as we had all been deferred from when I originally signed up back in the fall of 2019, intent on supporting new race directors Rhonda & Trish as they took the reins from Adam & Heather. Then, of course, the small matter of a global pandemic put things on hold until now, which left almost everyone I spoke to feeling rather unprepared for the day to come.

At least Gyula already had trail shoes on - I was still in my slippers!

I hemmed and hawed about what to wear: the day was starting at about 2c, but was predicted to climb to 16c by the course cut-off. I knew I'd be most able to work hard enough to keep myself warm at the start, particularly as the first ~3km of the course are downhill-to-flat (i.e.: runnable), but would likely be relegated to just hiking/walking as the day went on. The bright sun felt warm, though, so I decided I'd ditch the sweater I'd been contemplating and just go with a wind vest over a very thin wool longsleeve, with a tubular gaiter around my neck for some extra insulation. I was seriously lazy about getting myself ready to go: it was only about 20mins to gun time when I finally put some shoes on, before one last trip to the washroom.

..and a quick teleport back to 2005 for a mirror selfie

I realized I'd forgotten my SportShield roller out in the UltraCooler™ - already set up on a little folding stool/table in the drop bag area - so with just a few minutes to go before the start I listened to some pre-race announcements while rummaging around in my skirt and under my shirt applying lube (sorry everyone who had to watch that). A couple of hip circles and ankle circles, a spritz of vitamin B12 oral spray (expired, of course) in hopes of an energy boost, then line'em up - right at the back for me! - and then GO.

The plan: go out easy, then back off

I had run into Monica W. in the start corral, making her return to Pick Your Poison after breaking her wrist here in a previous year. We both planned to take things nice and easy, but I knew that my lack of fitness probably wouldn't let me hang with her for very long. 

Being led into the woodsy doubletrack by the legend himself - Hans M., competing at age 83 and just a couple of months after surgery!

The woods were still just beginning to burst into leaf - more buds than true foliage - but were lovely in the morning sunshine as I happily trucked along in the conga line.

This footbridge is one of the jewels of the course, to my mind

My ankle didn't feel great off the start, and the sinus infection I'd just recently (mostly) kicked had definitely left me less than energetic, but I actually moved pretty well through the first few kilometers - mostly thanks to the downhill, lovely weather, and pleasant company. I wondered if I should have started with my trekking poles as Monica had, but even once we reached the first small climb I felt reasonably capable.

Dat sun doe!

Out of the forest and into the only really muddy spot on the course - both sides of the only unavoidable swath of snow.

Squelchy with runoff - the snow started out quite firm, but warmed and loosened later on in the sun

This actually counts as "in great shape" for this course, though

Now at the foot of the first of the major climbs (though the simplest and least technical), Monica and I trucked up toward the first aid station (around 4.9km) and my wonderful husband.

Friends, this isn't even all of it - just the middle section with the aid station visible

Of course Sue Sitki had perched on the climb, which there was absolutely zero chance of me running.

Race photographers love to taunt runners like this!

I stopped to get my bottle filled while Monica continued on; I had no idea if I'd be able to catch back up again, but I needed to make sure I had enough water to get to the next aid station, and since I was now 40mins in I grabbed a chunk of banana and scarfed it back for good measure. Then, the rest of the climb..

You can just see Monica's bright yellow pack about halfway up

What's sort of nice is that you reach the top, then turn into some singletrack in the woods and basically get all of that elevation back again over the course of a little more than a kilometer. It's not the easiest descent, as it gets a little steep and you need to mind your feet in a couple of places.

Rocks and twigs and a bit of a turn here

Nonetheless, it's a place I could run! 

..and run I did!

I did actually manage to catch up to Monica, as well as Ron Gehl and another runner, but they soon ditched me again on the second major climb.

This one is made a bit more interesting by the top being covered in loose rocks and some fallen sticks; it's probably the most technical climb on the whole 12.5km loop.

The first time I did this race, I'd only trained on rail trail; imagine my surprise!

You crest the hill and turn into a long stretch of mildly uphill singletrack that runs alongside Settler's Ghost golf course to the right.

You're also following the white blazes of the Ganaraska Trail

I was still running the flatter bits of this, but my ankle was cranky, which was discouraging considering how far I had left to go. The final approach to the second aid station - around 7.9km in - looked a little...grim.

Hey buddy - you're a little far north and 4 weeks late for Around the Bay!

Fortunately Tim is an old friend, and deigned to let me continue on without deploying his scythe - he even briefly paused in hounding me out of the aid station to let me grab a photo with him.

*cue the Blue Oyster Cult*

Dree and Steve H. got my bottle topped up with water for me, and I headed out for the final section of the course...which is also the longest without aid, and has some of the most challenging terrain of the whole loop. First you head back down the same gentle slope you just came up to reach the aid station - though on a trail that's separated from your prior route by the ruin of a stone wall and a few metres of forest, through which you can see runners coming the other way - then you make a hard right off the groomed trail for some more technical fun.

Some loose, undulating singletrack

My stop at the aid station meant that I was well off the back of the field - I could still occasionally see a couple of runners up ahead, but had no hope (nor any designs) on catching them. I was on my own, which I don't much mind; I do most of my training alone, and I'm fine with living inside my own head.

I did briefly have the company of adorable penguin rock

The sun was lovely - it was a true spring day - and you could feel the life of the forest beginning to awaken.

Like these pretty little early wildflowers

After this singletrack interlude, you'll be spit out onto the same bit of doubletrack coming away from the 2nd aid station again, and you get a decent bit of runnable downhill before you reach the sandy bottom of the third major climb around 9.5km. It starts off gently, but there's a steep portion that takes you into a right-hand turn to continue upward, and then it curves around to the left with an aggressive grade.

The loose mix of sand and stones doesn't provide much energy return

The right-hand side is badly washed out near the top

After climbing for almost three-quarters of a kilometer (while munching fuzzy peaches in my case), you hit a left-hand turn into more singletrack at the top, and spend most of your time descending. 

Though not very quickly, if you're clumsy like me.

This section is pretty treacherous when conditions are wet or muddy, but the trails were in amazing shape on race morning - perfectly hardpacked and almost completely dry. 

It was a beautiful day to be in the woods

There's another doubletrack section that's very runnable - a fairly soft, sandy downhill - then you make another turn just past 11km onto singletrack that just seems to keep going up forever.

Along a ridge rising through the forest

It's not really technical - not even particularly steep, for the most part - but despite being nearly arrow-straight you can only see it in little chunks at a time. This leads to a constant sense of being nearly at the top, only to find that it goes up again.

There's a little dip just after this peak - the steepest part of the climb - then another uphill before you reach the summit

I had honestly forgotten that 2 of the 4 major climbs were packed into the last 3km of the course, and was already feeling kind of beat up.

Not to mention warm! I'm so glad I ditched the sweater I'd been thinking of wearing for just the wind vest

When you reach the top, you turn left and go down this sketchy, gravelly washout.

Technically runnable, but not really fun

Now tantalizingly close to the end of the loop, the course winds through more singletrack clinging to the side of a huge hill.

A bit narrow and death-to-the-left-ish

This stretch is also dotted with trilliums, that - depending on the spring weather - you may get to see open as the day goes on.

Still tightly furled on lap 1

It was here that I ran out of water in the growing warmth of the sun, so I knew I'd have to stop at the UltraCooler™ after I finished this lap to make some changes. Emerging from the woods for the last time with just a half-kilometer to go, you turn right on a wide, grassy ski run.

Whether or not you pause to take in the vista before you prior to making that turn is entirely up to you

Then, there it is: the absolute final climb to the highest point on the entire course.

Just get up and around that ski lift

The view from up there is pretty impressive:

The perfect place to kiss your quads goodbye!

Now it's time for the final descent: you'll drop a full 60 metres of elevation in the span of 350 metres, including one big sort of switchback around a clump of trees.

The pink flags and trail tape aren't the easiest to see in this photo, so big red streak for reference

There's one pretty heckin' sharp dropoff just after you hook 'round those trees before you roll on in to the chute.

For perspective, there are 3 runners about to enter the chute almost dead centre in this photo.
Go ahead and zoom in. I'll wait.

This year's staggered start times had seen the 12.5k start at 9am (while I was staggering my way to meet the reaper), but the 25k would start at 10am. I began bailing down the hill around 1h55m, just as everyone for the 25k was milling around the start line. 

Lap 1: 1h57m37s

Map from my Garmin data

Stopping at the UltraCooler™ after passing through the arch, I needed to make a lot of preparations before heading out again: I ditched my little skelly gloves and the wind vest, emptying the pockets of whatever nutrition I had yet to consume and stuffing it all into my little lightweight vest that would let me carry a second bottle of water. I got moving just after the horn sounded to start the 25k, so kind of ended up in the middle of its pack of runners, which turned out to be a wonderful coincidence! As I rambled down the driveway and along the doubletrack laneways toward the forest, a number of friends held back their pace to chat with me for awhile: I exchanged a few friendly words with Brian W. (Monica's husband) out with his poles; Audrey DK. (who had so kindly given me a ride one rough morning a couple of years ago) trucked along with me for a bit; and I was delighted when Robin B. linked arms with me as she came up from behind, and stayed with me to catch up a little after not having seen each other for a couple of years. She actually helped me gain a bit of perspective on the day: Robin is a really strong ultrarunner, yet she told me she absolutely will not do the 50k at Pick Your Poison because it's too hard on her quads. There I was attempting exactly that, while undertrained and rather damaged. 

No-one ever accused me of being bright

I did my best to keep out of the way of all the 25k runners, and soon found myself off the back as I traipsed along through the sunlit forest along the creek.

I was still actually running a decent amount of this - trying to bank time where I could

Something I haven't previously mentioned is how well the course was marked - it was positively bristling with pink wire flags, and there were additional directional arrows at the turns.

Difficult even for a lemming like me to go off course

..even if that means traipsing through the very wet, splurpy mud.
Got my shoe thoroughly soaked in this on lap 2

I was still moving pretty well through the second lap, though definitely didn't have the little bit of spring I'd had off the start. With my longest run in the prior four months having been about 2 hours (10 miles-ish), this was not entirely surprising. I noticed my hands starting to swell in the growing morning heat, and finally remembered I had s!caps on me! I quickly popped 2 of them around 2.5hrs, then trudged up the hill to the first aid station. 

After the snowy traverse, which was softening in the intense sun

I was only about halfway up when the 50k leader Danny T. came past me with a friendly word. Not even a third of the way through the race and I'd been lapped! 

Start of the ascent to the aid station

I still had about half of my hand bottle plus the full bottle in my vest, so I didn't bother filling up, but I did grab another banana chunk, and availed myself of a gluten free Oreo thoughtfully provided by the race directors for those with food allergies (I'd already heard these would be on offer, so had looked up ingredients in advance to make sure they were safe). It's funny: I don't recall being that big a fan of Oreos, but maaaaan that cookie hit great! I even managed to run a bit of the flatter section of the uphill away from the aid station, after getting a smooch from my honey.

I completely failed to take any photos of the aid station, but I stole this one from Hamid S. on the Pick Your Poison facebook page

Now plenty warm despite still being before noon, I pulled the tubular gaiter off my neck and put it around my wrist so it wouldn't trap as much heat, and set about climbing the big, nasty hill.

And here I'd been worried I'd be cold.

I took advantage of the climb to get some more nutrition into me - munching one of my homemade sea salt maple crisp rice squares as I plodded along, holding fast in my last place position in the 50k.

Still within visual range of someone else on course...for now.

This is where the trouble started: as I hiked up the steep hill, my left calf kept trying to cramp on me, and my left knee - the one that hadn't been bothering me - got cranky as well, right near the insertion of my vastus medialis.

Right about there

This also happens to be where I took a puck that left a nasty bruise during the hockey tournament 3 weeks beforehand, so I wonder if - despite the bruise having disappeared - things were not quite as healed up from that as I'd hoped. My lower back was taking a pounding as well: between the jolting of my awkward running gait down the hills and my terrible posture while dragging myself up the climbs, I was hurting. 

At least it was a lovely day for a traipse in the woods

I had one other rather...pressing...issue as well: I needed a portajohn, and I had not realized that I needed one when I was near the start/finish (which didn't actually have any portajohns either: the only washroom facilities were the downstairs bathrooms in the chalet). I have no qualms about taking a quick off-trail wee in a race, but I was loath to befoul the woods with what needed out of me, particularly with the 50k leaders continuing to lap me. I thought I remembered that there was a loo by the 2nd aid station, and hoped like heck my memory wasn't telling me lies.

Unrelated neat little moss cap on a stump

Fortunately as I approached the second aid station, the most wonderful sight in the world appeared:

*cue choir of angels*

I had to do a bit of bushwhacking to reach it, and ended up holding up some people who were actually legitimately using the golf course on which the loo was placed, but I found relief (and toilet paper!) within its plastic walls around 3h15m into the race. Then it was on to the aid station to get my bottles filled, and into the singletrack again.

After being caught by course photographer Sue Sitki coming away from the aid station

So lovely to be able to enjoy these trails that are usually closed to the public!

I was able to make it through the rest of the second lap without incident, and the additional bottle meant I had water enough to last me the duration. I knew the smart thing to do would be to just drop at 25k. Well, technically the smart thing to do would have been to switch to the 25k distance before the start (which I could have done right up until race morning)...but I did have one more thing to try. 

Lap 2: 2h3m25s (4h1m2s cumulative)

After bailing down that big heckin' hill to the start/finish again - seeing 4 hours and a bit on the clock, so feeling reasonably solid about pretty consistent splits through the first half, but also cognizant that the old course cut-off was 8hrs and I'd already surpassed more than half that - I stopped off at the UltraCooler™ to grab two more sprays of vitamin B12, plus one of my trekking poles. David V. was working the aid station by the drop bags, and kindly helped me get my bottles filled. I told him I was going out again, but this would probably be my last lap. He chided me saying that Tank would be disappointed, but I told him Tank would more likely be proud of me for making good decisions and not hurting myself. David told me he wanted me to finish, but I was pretty sure I'd be calling it after 37.5km. Then I ran away, and heard a bunch of sweet people yelling "GO K!" as I trundled down the driveway toward the lane that would lead me back into the woods.

With no-one else around this time

I was still running through most of this section, so left the pole folded up and just carried it in my hand as I trucked along - I figured I'd deploy it when I reached the first little switchbacked climb in the woods, but it's far easier to run with it collapsed in my hand than extended and locked.

Ideally I'd have just hooked it onto my vest for this part, but this particular vest doesn't have pole attachments - I might have to try adding my own

I was sweating like crazy in the hot sunshine as I ran, feeling pockets of heat starting to develop in the woods where the wind couldn't penetrate. I kept up with nutrition and hydration - I'd been swigging at intervals on a flask of EFS Liquid Shot, which the bottle from which it was decanted says expired in 2018. This possibly contributed to my need of a portajohn again, and didn't think I could make it to the one at the golf course by the second aid station this time. I waited until a stretch where I could see quite a long way behind me, dropped my skirt and leaned up against a tree, and let go exactly the sort of fart one should never trust when running long distances. With nothing better at hand, I used a stick to clean myself up and try to sort of poke a cathole, then covered it as best I could. 

My sincerest apologies to the Copeland Forest

I was walking a lot of sections that I'd been able to run in the first two laps by now, and deployed my pole just as the course started to go up - I found it quite helpful for making my way through the soggy, muddy sections, and for the snowy patch that had got a bit loose and slippery by this point.

I spotted this beautiful little guy just after the snow, on the traverse across the face of the ski hill to the base of the climb to the first aid station

I had another delicious gluten free Oreo and got another smooch from my honey, telling him this might well be my last lap, as things were deteriorating quite badly. My right ankle had largely shut up - for which I'm grateful - but now my left quads were feeling blown from the downhills, and my left calf was still trying to cramp on the uphills. The pole was helping a bit with my lower back, as my posture was a little better while climbing, but I was definitely not in bueno condition.

And this damn thing just seemed to keep getting bigger

..which actually seems to have been somewhat substantiated by my Garmin data

I finally made it to the second aid station, sweating profusely in the summer-like heat, and couldn't believe my eyes - Steve H. and his fellow volunteers had a propane fire running!

And Pops was still wearing an insulated jacket and toque!

I swigged back a little cup of ginger ale in hopes it would keep me from any more dirty business in the woods, then got back at it. I was actually shocked to hear that there was a runner behind me coming into the aid station as I departed: I was certain I was in last place. I could still run downhill ok - if rather painfully -  on the less steep and technical bits, but there was definitely more walking happening.

Maybe that's how I finally noticed the golf balls stuck in the woodpecker holes on this fallen tree

More of the 50k field was lapping me now, so I mostly just tried to stay out of the way - I'd stand to the side of the singletrack when I heard someone approaching, as I definitely did not want to interfere with anyone who was actually trying to race.

I was just meandering around eating cookies and candy

..and stopping here and there to take pictures of wildflowers, most of which had only opened fully by my third lap

I climbed and descended, pushing my poor, abused body along through the lap and trying to figure out what to do. The conclusion I came to was a series of contingencies:

• If I finished my third lap in a cumulative time of 6h15m or less, I'd try a 4th lap - the new 9-hour cutoff would give me 2h45m to complete it, which I figured would allow me time to walk it in.
• I'd grab my second pole if I went out for a 4th lap.
• I'd try to get to the first aid station, which would give me approximately 42.4km (and thus more than a marathon) on the day - if the second pole didn't help, I'd only be a couple of hundred metres away from the start/finish and could bail out there after telling Tank.

Basically, I talked myself into at least giving it a try. After all, the night before the race I'd re-read my race report from the first Tally in the Valley in 2018, at which I completed 70km in the 12-hour night race on a pretty ruined ankle and vastly inadequate training. If I could fake it for 12 hours then, I could probably fake it for 9-ish hours now.

Oh, the stupid ideas I have..

Up, down, singletrack, doubletrack, around the ski lift, dooooooooooooooooooown the quad-destroying final hill again.

Lap 3: 2h7m24s (6h8m26s cumulative)

I ditched the now-empty flask of EFS Liquid shot, grabbed a caffeinated sea salt chocolate Gu Roctane gel and an Endurance Tap, and grabbed my second pole. Now, with both hands needed for my wimp sticks, I wouldn't be able to carry my hand bottle - I had toyed with the idea of trying to stuff it into the back pocket of my vest, but I didn't think I'd be able to access it very well (I've tried getting stuff in and out of that pocket while moving before, and it's not terribly easy even at a walk), and I worried that it would chafe and/or annoy the heck out of me if I could actually spur myself into a run. So, in a calculated risk, I left it behind and would rely solely on the (smaller volume) bottle in my vest.

At the hottest part of the day.

I kept the second pole folded (though I didn't collapse the first one) and just held both of them in my hand while I actually ran for awhile down the gentle slope of the laneways and into the forest.

You can see them in my left hand as I cross the footbridge for the last time

I mixed in much more walking on this lap, though, and not just because I was feeling tired and beat up: I would get very hot very quickly while running, and I knew that would increase my hydration needs. With only the one bottle, I had to be careful to meter my effort and my sweat rate, so I walked before I needed to, and deployed the poles (plus my Endurance Tap gel) as the course turned upward.

I had time, so I would bloody well take it

Tank was shocked to see me when I arrived at his aid station after hiking steadily up the big hill to reach it - his young helper Matt actually commented "You've got an amazing hiking pace!", which was great to hear as I had felt like I looked pretty good coming up. I can be very lazy when I walk, but when I use two poles I tend to increase my cadence, and gawd knows I'd got plenty of experience at dragging myself along with my wimp sticks through all sorts of horrible conditions last October. I grabbed another delicious Oreo and drank a cup of what turned out to be Hammer HEED (which has not been my friend in the past, but thankfully didn't cause trouble this time); while doing so, it turns out I ended up kind of bashing on Hammer Nutrition goods right in front of their representative, who had sponsored the race by providing the aid stations with their products and was at Tanker's aid station at the time. 

Whoops.

I wasn't feeling great, but with almost a full two hours to cover the last 7.6km, it seemed ridiculous to bail out now. Onward and largely upward - the poles were helping with my posture a bit, so my lower back at least didn't seem to be getting any worse. My left foot, however, had a problem crop up that I'd first noticed at 3 Days in the Park last fall: I think my cuboid pops out of position, creating soreness just in front of my lateral malleolus (outside ankle bone). Yeah, another ankle issue, on my "good" side this time. So running wasn't happening much, because it made my foot hurt; I'd do a little bit of trotting by planting my poles and then sort of just waving my legs around a bit to try to keep up on the gentler, less-technical downhills, but everything else was just walking at this point.

Walking it in, in the finest IPOS tradition

I reached the second aid station after munching another crisp rice square and popping my last s!cap (I'd had 7 total throughout the course of the day), and Steve H. started giving me crap, saying I had told them I was going to drop after the third lap - I corrected him saying that I had actually stated loop 3 might be my last, while slurping down a delicious cup of cola for a sugar and caffeine fix to get me on my way. Dree filled my bottle for me one last time; I wasn't really drinking as much as I should, as I still had some water left, but it's bloody difficult to manage two poles plus drinking while moving, especially when you're a bit weary and banged up. I thanked all the volunteers for being out there all day, then got on with the final stretch of this madness.

Saying goodbye to all the beautiful places along the way

To be honest, the steepest singletrack sections had started to scare me a little: I wasn't really capable of running anymore, and the heat and sun had dried out the hardpacked dirt into puffy, loose leafmould in which I just hoped the lugs of my shoes (Topo Ultraventures) would continue to grip. 

This dip is particularly sharp, and absolutely terrifying when muddy

I actually had another runner pass me here, but I hadn't seen Ron G. in quite awhile and wondered how he was faring: I'd heard that he'd split a shoe, and needed to change up. I worried about him making the cutoff, even as I knew I would be pushing it a little myself. At the 8 hour mark with 3km to go, it had been a bit since I'd had any nutrition, but I didn't think I really needed the caffeinated Gu Roctane gel I had on me. Instead, I munched back one last small handful of fuzzy peaches.

I ate a total of 16 of them throughout the day, out of 22 I had brought

With my legs not exactly responding to the commands they were given, the singletrack seemed more treacherous than ever as I stumbled along, trying to coordinate poles and feet as I went.

Much to my surprise, I did not actually fall!
I only caught a toe once all day, and managed not to hurt myself in the process

I swear it took me a million years to cover the last two climbs. I was out of all but a sip or two of water, and so ready to be done with this whole business.

This climb, however, was not done with me.

I finally emerged from the woods, and faced the last uphill.

While being not at all certain I'd be able to run down to the finish

Rounding the top of the lift for the last time, I steeled myself for what would be a very ugly descent. The strategy remained the same as it had for the last couple of hours: plant the poles, let gravity do its thing, and pray you can flail your legs into the right position at the right times so you don't go arse over teakettle and roll all the way to the bottom in a broken heap.

If you're curious about what that looks like, here's a tiny video clip Tanker got

It wasn't pretty, but it got me there. I even managed to continue running once it flattened out, and right across the finish line!

Can haz sweet release of death now plz?

Lap 4: 2h31m36s

Got my finisher socks and pint glass!

Official time: 8h40m18s @ 10:24/km

57/65 O/A (58 finishers) - 17/19 Women (17 finishers) - 5/5 in W40-44

(Full results are here - my Garmin data is here)

Not exactly a turn-up for the books, but the dead-even chip time is kinda neat

So there was something new introduced for 2022 by race directors Trish and Rhonda (who did an amazing job with organization in their debut event, and were both there cheering their heads off as I came into the finish) - an award for the last finisher under the cutoff in each distance. I had joked going in that it was the only award I was in any contention for, but that actually proved to be accurate. Ron G. was still out on course with Steve B. having volunteered to accompany him (after finishing the 50k himself - Steve is an incredibly good dude). If Ron came in before 9 hours elapsed, he'd get the award. I hobbled into the chalet to start getting myself out of my salt-encrusted clothes, and watched through the big windows up the hill to see if I could spot him on approach.

These images pretty well encapsulate the day I had 

Unfortunately, Ron didn't quite make it - he did finish, but almost 13mins over the official cutoff time.

In his defense, he will also be 75 years old 2 months after the date of this race - guy is an absolute legend, and a long-time friend

So, that meant I ended up with one extra souvenir for the day:

Definitely does NOT stand for "Greatest of All Time"

Without trying to sound ungrateful, I feel a little strange about having accepted this: for one thing, I probably should have DNF'd the race, and feel a bit like I was rewarded for my own stupidity. I also think in retrospect I should have passed the award along to Ron instead, as he was doing his absolute best out there while I was just sort of farting around, particularly in the last lap. I know it wasn't the intention to give it to someone who finished outside the 9 hours allotted for the race, but...well...I don't really think I deserve it.

This fruit-based recovery beverage in a swirl tub of epsom salts, though, I definitely earned.

It would be 3 days before I could get down a set of stairs without a cane, and I took 6 days off running afterward. I've tried to come back a bit since then, but it's largely been walk/run as my ankle is still cranky as heck. 

..and hopefully the stupid tan line from the tape on my knee will eventually fade.

I thanked Trish and Rhonda for a fun time after getting myself changed - you'd never have known they were rookies at this race directing business! - and then hobbled off to our car so Tank could drive us home. It had been a long day, and I was knackered. I spent most of the trip home stuffing my face, and have been trying to get myself recovered since. I don't think I really did any further damage to my ankle (though it has stubbornly refused to improve from the state it was in on race morning), but the fatigue of nearly 9 hours of relentless hills has proven difficult to shake. Having made 2 attempts, I'm not sure I'd actually do the 50k here again due to the viciousness of the course, but I can't say I won't be back to the Copeland Forest again - it's just too lovely, and I'd highly recommend every trail runner experience it at least for a single lap!

I'm grateful as always for the help of the volunteers and the hard work they put in, not least my own dear Tanker who had just as long a day as I did, and still packed up all our gear and drove my mangled carcass home afterward. Love you babe!

(Thanks to Gord E. for the great photo!)

Have a great long weekend everyone - hope you have exactly the adventures you desire, even if that doesn't involve leaving the couch!