Canadian Death Race - Take 3 :)

After Sinister, the plan was to just train hard and get ready for The Divide 200, and hopefully get in some more mountain running prior to race day. The problem was that Andy would likely have to travel again, and getting mountain time when I’m home alone with the pups would be nigh on impossible. I needed an alternative, and whilst I love to run in Devon and on the river valley trails in Edmonton, they wouldn’t quite mimic the type of terrain I’m going to encounter on the Great Divide Trail in September. I personally felt that I needed to hit the mountain trails again, but with the 200 fast approaching, it was hard trying to find a free weekend where I could do big mileage and big elevation.

It was only a couple of days later that I casually mentioned to Andy that maybe I should just do the Canadian Death Race again – it was a good 118km or around 73 miles, and it has over 5000m/17,000 ft of climbing. Given that it was also a race where one was following trail markers, utilizing aid stations, running in the remote alpine, crossing a variety of terrain including forest trails and technical, rocky, mountain trails, had the possibility of wildlife encounters, and would have me running in the dark, it made perfect sense that this would be exactly what I needed!

I immediately posted to the race group, desperately searching for a race bib at the very last minute, and hoping that I could get the time off work to travel to Grande Cache on the Friday at the peak of the holiday period, when we were already short staffed. Thankfully things worked out really well, and I managed to obtain a bib and was all set for the Canadian Death Race on August 5^th. 

I have done the Canadian Death Race on two previous occasions, with my best run being back in 2019 when I finished in 18 hours and 32 minutes. I had been suffering from anxiety that particular year when it came to racing, mainly from peer pressure and the expectation that I was ALWAYS going to win things when I knew this simply wasn’t possible. I went into the race determined to just do my thing and not race things, and I found that I had one of my best runs, and other than a vomiting session on Leg 4 when ascending Mount Hamell, I was feeling strong the whole way. 

I returned again in 2021, this time with the intention of breaking 18 hours. I actually put so much pressure on myself trying to chase a time, and with the intense heat and smoky conditions, I faltered once again on Mount Hamell. I made it to the Ambler Loop, but I made the decision to stop, and I ended up with a DNF.

Fast forward to August 2023, and I once again went into the race with no goals other than just enjoying the race, and getting to the finish line within the 24 hour time limit. My plan was to use it as a dress rehearsal for The Divide 200 – slow things down, walk lots more, try out the gear and food I would be using, and just see how I got on, taking my time at aid stations and making sure I didn’t get too carried away with things.

For this weekend, all three pups came with us, and we stayed at Tent City for the weekend, finding a perfect spot with a little shade from some trees, and a fence post which would secure the dogs and stop them running riot and causing trouble. I’d actually prepped all my drop bags back at home the night before, so on arrival, it was a quick visit to race package pickup to collect my bib and drop off the drop bags. We didn’t bother going to the pre-race meeting – I was familiar with the course, and unless there were drastic changes to things, I didn’t feel like the meeting would bring any benefits. We grabbed a pizza and salad for tea again as this had seemed to work when doing Sinister last month, and having walked the pups, I settled down for a good night’s sleep.

Unfortunately, I had a horrendous night’s sleep! Andy snored most of the night, and then when he wasn’t snoring, the bed he was using made lots of noise. I also had to get up to go pee a couple of times which didn’t help, although I was treated to a wonderful display of the Northern Lights when stumbling out the door at about 1am.

I won’t lie, but I woke up on race morning feeling a bit like poo. I was tired and grumpy, and quite frankly in a bad mood. I was still looking forward to the race, but I definitely felt irritable. Negativity is not my thing, so I tried to snap out of it and cheer up a bit. We arrived at the start line with 15 minutes to spare, the queue for the loos wasn’t too bad at all, and then I headed over to join everybody else. Andy had already left to head to TA100, so I just waited patiently for the starting gun to fire. I had a quick photo with our good friend Pawel who was also at Sinister (and will be pacing me at The Divide!) which cheered me up, and then when we finally got going, I saw our good friend Barb and hubby Jimmy, who had surprised me by turning up the previous night to support me for the duration of the race – I sure do have some amazing friends!!

Leg 1 isn’t too bad at all – a couple of climbs and some technical downhill – but in the main, perfectly runnable. I started off nice and easy and towards the middle of the pack, but with the marathon and relay runners mingled in with the soloists, the start was faster than I would have liked. It has also changed from previous years – rather than running on the road for the first couple of km, we joined the trail system around town which I actually much preferred. After a short stint down the road, we finally hit the main trail that would take us on our way to the first aid station.

There were lots of runners around me, but we were all making pretty good progress, walking the hills but running the flats and the downs. My breathing was still a little harder than I was looking for, but I was being dragged along by everybody else, so just went with it. I was still feeling a little irritable and was getting annoyed at people dithering at the puddles and muddier sections – at one point, I just ran straight the middle, chuntering to myself and saying to some of those with earshot, “call yourselves trails runners? It’s trail race for goodness sake – just run through it!” Of course I understood why nobody would want to get wet feet this early on, but it was frustrating for me, I was expecting wet feet and had prepared for it by leaving spare socks and shoes in my drop bag. But then I reminded myself that I was planning on taking my time at aid stations – these folks probably just wanted to crack on, and that was ok :)

The remainder of the leg was pretty uneventful. I was running nice and steady and not overdoing it, and was eating and drinking as expected. A week or so prior to the race, I did come down with an injury in my right calf and this was definitely causing me a little pain on the first leg. I had decided to wear calf compression sleeves to keep the pain at bay which helped a little, but I was certainly aware of the niggle as I ran into the aid station after just 8 or 9 miles of running. Andy was waiting for me at the aid station but he was unable to crew me properly due to things being so busy, so I restocked my backpack on my own before setting off on leg 2. I had been using a bladder for my fluids this time rather than the soft flask bottles, and I was surprised to see how little I had actually drank, even though it felt like I had been taking huge mouthfuls every 10 t 15 minutes to keep hydrated. I made a conscious effort to drink more on leg 2 – this leg was longer at around 18 miles, so I had to make sure I stayed properly fuelled.

I made my way through the boggy section of leg 2, crossed the train tracks, and then the climbing started as we made our way up Flood Mountain.

There were still tons of runners around me, but many had now started to slow. They were using poles but I hadn’t yet decided to use mine, saving them for the Hamell assault rather than using them early on. I wish now that I had used the poles earlier, but I was making decent progress without them, still passing people and climbing relatively well. I found myself stuck in groups of runners, all of us moving at a similar pace, and whilst I usually prefer to run solo or just have a couple of other runners around me during races, I didn't really mind having company this time around. My mood was definitely lifting, I was feeling far more sociable, and I was really getting into my groove and starting to enjoy myself. At one point I took a couple of salt tablets, the power on them causing me to wheeze as it stuck in my throat and made me gasp for air. I tried to wash it away with some water, whilst some ignorant man passed me by saying, "you go too fast, perhaps you should slow it down, coughing like that!" I'm not a violent person, but I could have slapped him at that point, the cheeky, ignorant sod!

The steep, rocky sections were now almost complete, and we would shortly be parting ways with our marathon companions as they headed down slugfest and Bum Slide, and us full soloists headed up the steep, narrow, single track trail that would take us to the summit of Flood Mountain. The climb was just as tough as I remembered, and we all followed each other in a line, one slow step at a time as we shuffled up the incline, and finally we reached the flags and the checkpoint which signalled the summit of Flood. The views were gorgeous on this remarkably sunny and warm day, and I was sure to take a couple of moments to take them in, before heading back down the trail through trees where we would rejoin the Near Death Marathon runners as we made our way over the Grande Mountain which was visible in the distance. The next stretch would be just as tough, mainly due to the steep downhills and the ankle deep mud and bog, but I also loved this section at the same time - I just hoped the mosquitoes and horseflies stayed away as they definitely aren't fun to run with.

We ran many ups and many downs, crossed cooling mountain streams, bushwhacked through bogs and overgrown trails, passed through another couple of checkpoints, and after what seemed like a short while, the final slog up the dirt road that would bring us to the summit of our second mountain of the day - Grande Mountain, which overlooked the hamlet of Grande Cache. A few people had actually passed me in the last mile or so, but as we started the descent which would take us down the powerline, rolls were reversed and I found that I was gaining on them.

With steep, rocky descents that this year were very dry and dusty which made gripping even more dificult, Powerline is not an easy section. There was a time when I was completely reckless on downhills, but these days O'm far more cautious although I was still going some on the descent of powerline. I slipped a couple of times but managed to stay upright and before long, I had hit the road and was making my way back into town and TA300 where Andy would be waiting with food and drink, and another change of socks and shoes. I think I had been going for 6 or 7 hours at this point which was on a par with my previous CDR events, but I really didn't want to start thinking that way as I wanted to remain controlled and taking it easy, rather than racing and chasing times.

Andy was of course waiting for me, and he handed me cups of tea, some nibbly food, and a bag of Hungarian goulash. I was testing the latter as a trail snack for the Divide and was worried in case it was going to be too spicy, but I have to say that it hit the spot perfectly, and I munched my way through pretty much the entire bag, and total of 400 or so calories. Whilst I had been eating pretty well out on course, I hadn't been drinking enough, and I was definitely started to feel the effects of dehydration. The problem I have is that I get bored of tailwind and water but there isn't much choice. I was also using the bladder, and this was definitely a hindrance in detemining how much water I was actually drinking. I needed to drink more, so on the next leg I opted to take a bottle of Skratch in addition to the 2 litres of water I was carrying.

Barb was also at this aid station, looking after the pups to help Andy out, and it was so awesome to spot them through the window of the crew tent, seeing them being so well behaved. Tillie spotted me at one point and started her usual yipping, and that made me so happy to see.

I spent a good 20 minutes at this aid station - maybe more - making sure I ate food, had a good drink, and changed into clean socks and shoes. I still had plenty of time to finish and I was already at around 27 miles. There was still a long way to go, but I had also completed a fair bit already and was feeling good. Time to get moving and head out on leg 3!

Previously, I have spent most of leg 3 running solo, mainly due to being faster than I was today, and also because the Near Death Marathon runners have now finished their race. This leg is definitely one of the more runnable ones, and whilst there are some rocky sections where you have to watch your footing, it isn't too technical at all. There are a couple of climbs but nothing compared to legs 2 and 4, and with a few streams flowing through the forest and down to the river, there is plenty of water on this section should it be a hot day.

This year, whilst I did spend some time running solo, there were definitely more runners in the vicinity, and the most time I spent on my own at any one time was around 10 minutes. I certainly didn't do quite as much "yo bear" ing like before, and I wasn't really too concerned that a Grizzly was going to come charging out of the trees, simply because there really was too many of us running along that trail.

I was still doing my run/walk strategy, but one thing I wasn't doing was eating and drinking like I should have been doing. My tummy was starting to rumble, and I definitely needed to eat, but being just 12 or 13 miles in total for this leg, I had it in my head that I would wait until the aid station and eat properly there prior to the climb up Mount Hamell. I did stop a few times to dunk my hat in the cold mountain streams, and my goodness did that cold water feel amazing, but other than that, I just kept on moving and tried to maintain a positive mindset.

We hit the road section that would take us back towards TA 400, and although I was feeling good, I was certainly ready for a good feed and a drink. The bit through the trees alongside the roadside was much drier than the last time I had passed through, and this time there wasn't a Black Bear that had drawn attention to itself, making us all paranoid that he was going to pounce out on us as we ran along.

It felt good running into the aid station, all the spectators and volunteers cheering away, and so many familiar faces helping out. I spotted Andy in the soloist area and he already had things ready for me - a clean pair of socks and shoes, a drink and some food. Barb and Jimmy were also there, offering their support and encouragement to me whilst I attempted to refuel and get enough calories in me for the next big climb.

I mentioned earlier than one of the things I wanted to do at the Death Race this year was to try out some of the food I was considering for the Divide. The ghoulash I'd had earlier hit the spot perfectly, and I wish I'd had more. At this aid station, we had saved the Irish Shepherds Pie, and I was really looking forward to having some mince, potatoes and veg, albeit a dehydrated meal with hot water thrown in. Remind me NOT to use this one at my next race! It was absolutely disgusting, and regardless of how many times I tried to eat it, it just wasn't going to happen. At that point, Andy tried to offer me so many things all at once as he knew I needed to eat, but the more food he mentioned, the more queasy I felt, and the next minute, I dashed across the parking lot and started being sick. There as absolutely nothing in my stomach, so it was more of a dry heave, but some Coke and a few gummy bears made their way on to the grass, followed by some remnants of water or something that hadn't yet had the chance to digest. This happened three times before I finally felt better and after apologising to everybody, I ended up just taking fluid calories rather than solid food, and said I would take food with me to eat on the climb up Hamell.

Despite being sick, I was in pretty good spirits, and I wondered if the sickness was more of a subconscious behaviour rather than a necessity. The past two times I have done the Death Race, I have thrown up on Hamell, and I wondered if it was more of psychological reaction rather than physical. Was I already convincing myself of the sickness because it had happened previously? I don't  know, but it was most annoying!

I tried to eat and drink what I could before I started the next leg, knowing that I'd be away from my crew for a good few hours with the leg being 35km or something with lots of climbing. It would also take us to above 7,000 ft and with it now being early evening, things would cool off as well as getting dark whilst I was out on leg 4. I took some extra food with me, I carried an extra bottle of Skratch so that I wouldn't be drinking just purely water (the Tailwind was making me feel sick and the flavour just wasn't suiting me), I tucked my long sleeved top in my backpack, grabbed my headtorch and my poles, and then I was ready for the climb to the summit of Hamell.

I had never ran with poles before, so they did take a bit of getting used to, but once I got into a rhythm, I felt like they really were making  a difference in how quickly I was climbing. I wasn't exactly sprinting up that first 5km through the lush green forests, but I was making much more efficient progress than before. My legs were still feeling great even with all the climbing, and I was pleasantly surprised to catch people up on the uphill, something that has never happened before in this race.

I made it to the checkpoint in personal record time, but I was starting to feel a little queasy again. About 100 yards before hitting the checkpoint, I was bent over being sick yet again, this time all the food and drink Andy had given me was splattered over the ground. I felt so drained of energy and really fed up, so took a sit down at the checkpoint to let things settle. The lovely volunteers had some crisps up there, so I grabbed a couple of handfulls and sat down munching on them, hoping to get some food and more importantly salt inside of me. It had been a hot day, I was still sweating despite the sun going down, and I really hadn't got any proper food or drink inside of me at the moment. The volunteers also had a dog with them - it looked to be a Pyrenees Mountain Dog - and she was GORGEOUS! Her name was Nina, and she came over to give me some puppy love and to share my crisps. It's amazing what a difference a puppy snuggle can make, and after about 20 minutes of sitting down - maybe even longer - I picked myself up again and started to move.

The worst part about the climb up Hamell isn't the bit through the forest, it isn't the switchbacks as you near the summit. No, for me it's that 3km or so that follows the forestry/ATV road up to the next checkpoint/aid station. You never really think it's hilly, but it is, and it is rocky and technical and seems to go on forever. The more I walked along this section, the more exhausted I felt, and I was starting to feel like I just needed to crawl under a warm blanket for a snooze. I made the decision that when I got to the next aid station, I would indeed have a  lie down and try to sleep for half an hour. When I finish races and I'm still feeling rough, sometimes I lie down for half an hour and feel tons better when waking up, and I can then start to eat and drink again. I was hoping for the same today, even if it meant losing half an hour.

Lots of people had started to pass me by now, but I finally made it to the aid station, and I once again spotted familiar faces that made me feel so much better. I put my long sleeved top on before lying on the ground behind the tent, and then shut my eyes and relaxed. I began to notice how chilly things were starting to get, and I did start shivering, but the lovely volunteers gave me their coats and blankets to keep me warm, and a bag to put under my back to make things more comfortable.

As I lay there, I listened to the other runners that were passing by. Many of them were having the same issues as me - an inability to drink or keep food down, a serious lack of energy, some of them took a seat for a short time and tried to eat, but every single one of them pushed onwards towards the summit of Hamell.

By now, I had been running/walking for almost 13 hours, and my watch was telling me I had something like 45k to go.  I had 11 hours to finish - even if I walked at just 3 miles an hour, I could still finish in time. I was still feeling flakey, but having sent a message to Andy to help me decide what to do, he said exactly the right thing in reply - "what have you come here to do?" My answer of course was to just finish in the time limit of 24 hours - there was my answer, I had to carry on. I picked myself up, thanked the volunteers, and then proceeded to continue my slow walk up Hamell. I was informed that a quad could fetch me if I decided to stop at the summit but as soon as I made a decision to head down the other side, it would have to be the Search and Rescue guys that came to fetch me, and that could be a while.

It was a risk I was willing to take, and as extreme as it sounded, I just hoped that I didn't collapse from exhaustion or kidney failure from lack of fluids or salts on the way to the next aid station.

There are 10 switchbacks to the summit, and I made my way up each of them slowly but surely. The sun was setting by now, and the sunset looked amazing the higher I got. There were quite a few runners around me unlike in previous years, all of us just doing our own thing to get to what we hoped would be the finish line. I reached the summit and felt a sense of relief - I was feeling weak, but feeling better, and I knew that as soon as I had collected my coin from along the ridge, that would be the incentive and the motivation I needed to get me to that boat crossing, and eventually the finish line.

The backside of Hamell is technical and rocky, but I tried to jog a little and was making good progress. I overtook a few runners who were moving more slowly, but when we hit the treed section, it seemed like everybody was once again passing me! I wasn't feeling great, but I had been sipping some water and a bit of Skratch, and I had also been nibbling on a chocolate Oreo. It wasn't much, but I was convinced that that bit of salt and that bit of sugar was somehow helping me to keep moving forwards. I'd also found myself on my own again, and as the darkness was now creeping in, I turned on my headtorch and found myself running pretty much solo again which meant reverting back to talking to myself and yelling into the darkness in the hope of frightening off any big furry critters that might have been out for a stroll at dusk!

With starting to feel a little better, I tried to take a larger drink of water- what a mistake! No sooner had the water gone down my throat, it came straight back up, and it was back to puking at the side of the trail again. A runner came up behind me, he knew me but I couldn't see who it was in the dark, and he waited with me whilst my body finished up rejecting whatever it was inside my tummy. In the darkness, dark fluid came up, and I panicked thinking that it was blood. The mystery runner reassured me that it wasn't blood, and then it dawned on me that it was the chocolate Oreo -jeez, those things are tiny. How could such a tiny biscuit that I had been nibbling on for over an hour make me throw up so violently?!

Yet again, the vomiting session made me feel better - back to running on fricking empty again, and not knowing whether I will even make it to finish again now! The mystery run stayed with me for the next few miles along with a couple of other chaps, and I remember running along a muddy trail with lots of huge puddles, me splashing straight through the middle of them again as it was far too much effort to navigate around them.

I knew that the next TA was coming up soon at Ambler Loop, and yet again I got it in my head to just get there, take 5 minutes, reassess and make a decision as to whether to continue or not. 

It was such a relief to see the welcoming lights of that aid station as we made our way through the last bit of darkness on teh trail. The volunteers were so positive, so helpful, so supportive, and they were doing their absolute best to make sure the needs of every runner were met. It got me quite emotional seeing how much they cared about each and every one of us, and even now, I look back and think how can I ever thank them enough for how wonderful they were?!

My companions had by now gone and done their own thing, and I don't recall seeing them again for teh duration of the race. For me, I grabbed a cup of Coke and sat down. I took a few sips, then messaged Andy again to let him know about the third bout of vomiting, once again asking him what I should do. He once again questioned why I was there - to finish in 24 hours. I still had tons of time - go get it!

I stood up and grabbed my poles, knowing that if I could do this 5k loop, I'd only have the Beaver Dam Road to contend with before I saw Andy again. I knew that if I made it to Andy, I would DEFINITELY finish the race. I started the walk along the gravel road, a couple more headlamps shining ahead of me in the darkness. I can do this!

I continued to drink the coke, the sugar and the extra calories gave me the boost I needed, and my walking pace increased. I caught up the other runners, and then entered the forested section on my own. The first time I did this race, a cougar had been spotted on the Ambler Loop just 5 minutes before I had set off. I ran with a couple of others runners on the loop that year - it was dusk, prime time for cougars, and it was safety in numbers. This time, having left the other two runners behind me, I was well and truly on my own, and every little sound had me jumping a mile. My headtorch was bright and the shadows it was creating from the trees made my heart pound even more, and I seemed to be yelling into the darkness every couple of minutes. I kept telling myself it was only 5k, it was only 5k, it was only 5k, and the further I went, the less it became before I knew I would be back at the aid station again.

I managed to safely complete the loop in around 40 minutes with no wildlife encounters and no falls. I'd also successfully ran without another puking session - maybe things were settling down at last! 

Before leaving the Ambler transition area, I did take a cup of Ginger Ale, managing to drink just half of it before my brain told me it wasn't what I needed, so I threw the remainder in to the bush and started the descent down the road. It was only about 9km before I would see Andy again and around 25km to the finish - maybe a little more. I was already started to feel more optimistic that I would make it to that finish line after all.

I still wasn't running at this point, but I was walking much faster and kept interspersing things with a little jog here and there. The poles were being far more useful than I had anticipated, even on the downhill, and I was making much better progress and starting to get a bit of spring in my step. That's not to say that I was now bursting with energy, but that positive mindset was starting to make a huge difference again.

A few runners were still running at this point - whether they were soloists or relay runners I don't know - but no sooner had they come up behind me, they disappeared into the darkness down the road. At one point, I was running in the pitch black - my headtorch decided to die on me, and I resorted to the emergency battery reserve to give me a tiny bit of light on the road. The beam as barely visible, but a little bit of moonlight was helping me, and so long as I ran in the middle of the road, I wouldn't fall over in the ditch or anything.

I remembered the Beaver Dam Road from my first year at Death Race - it went on forever, and I hated it. This time however, whilst it still seemed a long way especially with walking it, I knew that each step was bringing me closer to Andy, each step brought me closer to that river crossing, and each step brought me closer to the finish line. After several hours of self-doubt, I now believed that I really was going to finish the 2023 Canadian Death Race.

A short section in the roadside ditch took us towards TA500. There was a small river crossing but I couldn't see where the rocks or the deep, fast flowing water was due to having no proper lighting, so I tentatively made my way across, not taking the most direct route, but at least i didn't fall. I approached the transition area, missed the turn in the darkness and had to turn back, and then finally made it to the solo dropbag area where Andy was waiting.

Leg 4 had taken me something like 7 or 8 hours - previously it had taken me 6 - so I was definitely not on a parr with my first CDR finish. Yet I was ok about that. I had conquered Hamell - not in a pretty way but I had done it. Now all that remained was 8km to the river crossing at Sulphur Gates, and then around 8km to the finish - I could do this!

Andy was being so patient. He had a strong cup of tea ready for me that I downed in one without any problems, I nibbled on some gummy bears and other small pieces of biscuit, the thought of perogies made me wrinkle my nose in disgust, but a cup of onion soup hit the spot perfectly. I may not have been able to eat any solids at that point, but at least I was able to stomach liquids - would it be enough to get me to the finish line? A lady sitting next to me in the crew tent was having the same problems as me, and we comforted each other and told each other that we WOULD make it to the finish line, come what may. She set off a few minutes before me, and we promised each other a finish line hug when we got there.

For the final leg, I wanted to travel as light as possible, so I got rid of the bladder and most of the food I had been carrying (and not eating!!), along with extra clothing etc. I had a couple of blisters that were causing a little bit of discomfort so I did change shoes and socks one last time. I was also starting to feel the cool air much more by now, so I changed into some warmer, drier clothing, running in two layers and was so glad I made that decision as I really appreciated it later on. Andy asked whether I needed my poles on the final leg and having vague memories of at least two more tough, steep climbs, I decided to take them with me. With a replacement headtorch and my poles in hand, I finally set off on the final leg - approximately 10 miles to go, and 5 hours remaining before we would time out. Barring something drastic, I knew that just walking that last 10 miles would give me the finish, and I was so happy.

The steep climb at the start of the final leg was just as I remembered, although I didn't recall it going on for quite as long as it did. I'd started the leg on my own, but within 10 minutes, I had already caught a group of other runners. I stuck in behind them for a short while, but then they beckoned me past, and I ended up gaining on them quite considerably. I caught the lady I had been chatting to just half an hour or so earlier - she was still moving well, determined to reach that finish line - and as I passed her and a couple more runners, we wished each other well as we continued to move towards the finish.

Leg 5 goes through dense forest, the trails overgrown with lots of low lying bushes, some sections prime bear territory. I found myself alone in the darkness once again, I couldn't see any lights ahead of me nor behind by now, and I listened for voices but could hear nothing except my own heart beating in my ears, whilst all I saw was my breath in the damp air. Time to start singing and talking to myself, time to throw out a few more "yo bears", time to keep those critters at bay! My poles kept getting tangled in the bushes or in deadfall on the trail, and if they weren't getting stuck, I kept tripping on them. I'd also bruised my ankle when a rock sprung up and hit it on Hamell, and for some reason I kept kicking it with my other foot. The blisters weren't getting any worse, but I was becoming more aware of them, yet all I could do was keep telling myself that I was oh, so close!

A short while later, I caught another group of runners, but this time we were close to the boat crossing. I passed them and ran down the steep sandy hill to the river and there it was - the boat launch that would take me across the Smoky River, and onwards to the finish line. It's a strange thing to say, but I was definitely very happy to see Charon, very happy to pay my way to the other side as I handed over the coin I had collected on the summit of Hamell, and as I  hopped on the boat and we made our way across the river, the wind blowing threw my hair like in the scene of some cheesy movie, I was feeling that energy and that eagerness to push on and get this thing done.

We landed on teh opposite shores, I jumped off the boat and made my way across the beach, and got my poles ready for another steep climb. Yet again, this was much longer and steeper than I remembered, yet despite still just power hiking rather than running, I made great progress, leaving behind the other runners that had been on the same boat as me.

I clearly remembered this part of the course - wider trails, muddy puddles, with some ups and downs. By now it must have been about 5am, and the dawn was starting to creep upon us. I wouldn't need my headtorch for much longer, but for now, it was lighting up the reflective markers that I was following with eagerness. I was so looking forward to seeing the road - that final climb that would take us back into town and onto the finish line. But that road seemed to be taking much, much longer than I remembered, and there seemed to be far more twisting and turning on rocky trails, with far more climbing than I could recall. They must have changed the course dagnammit! 

Mentally that knocked me a little - what if it really was 125km now and not the 118km like they'd said? Would I still be able to finish in the 24 hours? No use worrying about it, just keep moving! By now, my mouth was extremely dry and felt like I had a cardboard box in there, so I took a gulp of the Skratch that I had in backpack. WRONG DECISION! Yep, that gulp of fluid caused nausea once again, and then a few seconds later - bluergh! Onion soup, gummy bears, fruit bars, tea ... out it came, again! Another runner asked if I was ok, but I told him to just go, and then I felt bad as it seemed rude how I'd said it. I caught him up a short while later, apologising for being rude to which he just laughed. No need to apologise when you're being sick - he understood.

We ran together for a few miles after that, chatting away about different races we'd done, and then we fell silent, running in companionable silence for a while, whilst the sun started to poke its head above the horizon. We soon spoke again, wondering where the heck this road was. Surely we should have come to it by now?? We continued onwards, me feeling fatigued and frustrated, but knowing that we must be close.

After what seemed like an age, we finally hit the road, except it was much longer that last time due to the course change. It was also quite a good climb for a good mile or more, and as I felt more and more tired once again, my companion surged on.

I used my poles to propel me up the hill, and after a left turn I finally saw houses. YES! It was about 6am and people were outside, cheering us on as we came back into town, whisperings and quiet shouts of "Go Death Racer, you've done it!"

Into the final km, up that final little incline, a sore jog down the hill, and a right turn onto the grass with the finish gantry just 100 yards ahead. I ran that last 100 yards, crossing the line with a huge but relieved smile - against all the odds, I had finished the Canadian Death Race for a second time, in 22 hours 36 minutes. I'd survived, and I'd live to tell the tale.

It's now a week since I finished, and even now I really do not know how I made it to the finish. Other than feeling very weak and at times a little spaced out, I hadn't really felt too bad, and yet I had likely only consumed about 5000 calories for the duration of the race, if indeed that. I knew that my body was ok, my mind is strong and keeps me going too, but the subconscious is always telling me to stop because I don't want to be a casualty that somebody else has to deal with. It's the thought of being a problem for somebody else that stops me pushing onwards rather than how I'm feeling mentally or physically, and I know that's something I need to work on. I also need to nail this nutrition malarkey! I ate and used pretty much teh same things as I did at Sinister 50 miler where I had no problems whatsover, and yet once again, I puked on the Hamell leg. I wondered if perhaps it was a learned behaviour from previous attempts - i get worried about throwing up, so I end up throwing up, and then the cycle continues.

Regardless of the things that I still need to work on, I'm still very happy that I was able to push on through and get to the finish line. The human body is an amazing thing, and sometimes it can do more than we ever give it credit for.

There are some that have questioned how ultra running can possibly be fun, and why we keep going back when we've experienced all these things. For sure, it's the end result that brings the satisfaction, but for me it's also about the journey. It isn't fun being sick, it isn't fun worrying about whether you're going to go into kidney failure or other extreme thoughts, but by dealing with things as they arise and overcoming them in the moment, that's what brings the satisfaction for me. If every race went well, where would the learning be? We have to experience the setbacks so we can progress forwards, hopping over every hurdle thrown at us, and it's those challenges along the way that make it fun.

On that note, completing the Canadian Death Race was a huge help in getting me prepared for The Divide 200, and I now have even more confidence going into my first 200 miler. I know what I need to do, I know what works and what won't work, and I feel far more prepared. I can only hope that things go to plan at that race and I have no problems - wouldn't that be wonderful? - but I am also prepared to deal with things when they don't go to plan too. AS with the Canadian Death Race, my only goal at the Divide is to stay safe and to finish within the time limit. I really don't ask for anything more. 

Thanks to Fleeting Reality Photography for logo'd photos. All other photos were taken by Adela Salt and Andy Smith.