I knew going into the Sinister 7 Ultra that I wasn't as well trained for mountain running as I was this time last year. Twelve months ago, I ran the 50 miler with relative ease, finishing in a little over 12 hours and even making the podium with a third place finish, whereas this year, I hadn't been to the mountains once, and I knew I was in for a hard time. Regardless, I headed down to Crowsnest Pass with the goal of just finishing the race, even if I was DFL and only just made the 30 hour cut-off.
After a rather soggy and cooler spring and early summer, July brought heat warnings and hit temperatures in Alberta, and the forecast for race day was calling for highs of 30+ degrees - it was going to be a hot one! I did the best I could to prepare for the heat, continuing with my lunch time walks at work, and then running after work when things seemed to feel even warmer than earlier in the day. I even did my longer weekend runs just after lunch during the hottest part of the day, and whilst I'd finish dripping with sweat and drinking all the fluids I could find, I feel like those runs paid dividends on race day. The only other thing I could do was stay hydrated in the days leading up to the race, and I was drinking so much water and other stuff both day and night, it felt like I spent a good few hours peeing on the loo!
The other thing I needed to manage was the tightness in my left lower back and hip. This has been plaguing me on and off for several weeks now, but massage and stretching has been helping, so I was hoping things would behave themselves during the casual 100 mile run I had planned on July 13th.
Arriving at the campground in Crowsnest Pass, it was just Andy and I this year. Last year Wilson had joined us, but we'd left all three pups at home this time, simply because it was going to be far too hot for them to be hanging around outside or in a tent all day, and sitting in a car even with the AC running is definitely no place for puppy adventures! It was strange not having a dog there with me - they have a knack of making me chill and relax before a race, and they have a way of letting me know that no matter what happens, they'll still be there for me afterwards to give me lots of puppy cuddles. I missed that if I honest, but I was still determined to have the best race I could.
A 5.45am alarm woke us up on race morning, and things felt cool at that time, so much so that some folks were wearing long sleeves before heading to the start. I knew it wouldn't be long before things would warm up, so I was already in a t-shirt and enjoying the cooler air around me. The usual cup of tea and bowl of porridge for breakfast set me up perfectly, and having had a few swigs of water, we headed into town and the Stones Throw Cafe which was the start of the 100 mile race.
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| Start of the 100 miler |
The start line was buzzing with the usual excitement and anticipation, and I was surprised at how busy things were. I think the 100 miler has 300 or so solo runner and the rest are made up of relay teams, and I wouldn't be surprised if there was a good 4 to 5 hundred runners on that start line. I didn't really see many familiar faces even though there were lots of friends there that weekend, so I positioned myself towards the back of the pack and stood alone, patiently waiting for the start gun to go. Bang on 7am, we were off!
Leg 1 - Frank Slide, town of Hillcrest, Bear Valley to base of Hastings Ridge - 18.3km
Although I'd ran the 50 miler last year, I wasn't at all familiar with the first half of the course, so I had no idea what to expect. I definitely started cautiously, not wanting to get caught up in the stampede at the start and trying to run a sensible pace given the weather and the unknown 50 miles that lay ahead of me before hitting the midway point, and those areas that I would recognise on course.
The first mile or so was on road before veering off to join the trail that ran parallel with the train tracks. The volume of runners made it difficult to pass, especially with everything being so overgrown, but I was perfectly happy to tuck in behind everybody as it did at least ensure that I didn't go off too fast. Looking ahead, all I could see was a snake of runners, all running in single file for quite a long way ahead. I took a peek behind me, the same sight greeting me as us runners made our way along the trail.
The highlight of leg 1 is running through Frank Slide, which consists of huge rocks and boulders as big as houses, and whilst we stuck to the mainly gravel road, It really was quite special running through such an historical site although it was over much too quickly. The next 2 or 3 km was on pavement,and I was a little surprised at the amount of pavement there was, but then I guess it's the only way to get out of Coleman before passing through the small town of Hillcrest and then hitting the relentless climbs as we finally made our way into the surrounding hills and mountains of Crowsnest Pass.
We'd only been running for a short while, but I'd been drinking my water and electrolyte regularly to make sure I stayed hydrated, and it wasn't long before I found myself looking for a large enough tree or bush to hide behind, so I could have a pee. I was also making sure that I grazed on some nibbles every half hour or so, to keep my stomach lined with solid food, and to keep any hunger pangs at bay.
This leg was around 10 or 11 miles, and I anticipated completing it in around about two hours. There were some climbs, a couple of them being steep, but nothing too long nor drawn out, and I wouldn't consider leg 1 to have been technical by any means. I was running well, feeling strong, and managing the temperature as it rose steadily hour by hour. I was still surrounded by lots of runners and we weren't spacing out at all and things were starting to feel a little too crowded for me. I was also feeling that I wasn't able to truly get into a comfortable rhythm - I was catching people up, but had to slow down when I couldn't get past, and then some wanted to take advantage of the downhills and sprint their way down, when I was trying to stay steady and controlled regardless of ups or downs.
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| Leg 1 - PC Sinister Sports |
The scenery though was already impressive, with views of mountains and valleys, forest trails, and then areas of lush green grass interspersed with wildflowers, the vibrant colours looking do amazing on this hot, sunny, summer morning in southern Alberta.
After a couple of hours, a sharp downhill took us through more wildflowers, into a shaded treed area, and shortly afterwards, I was making my way into TA1 where I knew Andy would be waiting with refills of both good and fluids.
I was feeling really good - legs were good, my hip/back was ok, feet in good condition, I was feeling well hydrated and my stomach was holding out - all was good, and I was happy to head out on leg 2, and tackle whatever was thrown at me.
Leg 2 - Hastings Ridge and down into Blairmore - 16.7km
Leaving the aid station, I prepared myself for at least three hours of running this time, as I knew there was much more climbing on this one. I'd not taken my poles on leg 1, but something told me I'd need them from here onwards, so I'd made sure to have them with me when I'd set off from TA1.
I felt like I now had more space to run, and I started the next climb up the mountainside with strength and determination, moving smoothly as I climbed and passing a couple of other runner's as I went.
This climb was long, and as I looked up ahead at the switchbacks hugging the mountainside, I could see several groups of runners at various stages of the climb. Some of the runners were only a few hundred metres ahead, whilst others were like ants moving much further ahead, just tiny dots on the landscape.
I wasn't running in a group, preferring to run solo and run my own pace. The trail was steep but likely runnable in sections for somebody of a far better ability than I, but I was still making good progress with my strong hike, my poles helping to push me up a little more quickly with each step. Trees provided some shade for the first mile or two, offering some reprieve from building heat and strength of the sun, but as we climbed higher, the vegetation was more at ground level and we became more exposed to the elements.
I'm not really sure if there was a summit to be reached - I was climbing for what seemed like a good while, but then the trail flattened out, and we were greeted by impressive mountain vistas that looked incredible on such a bright and sunny day.
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| Stunning views off the ridge |
By now, runners had started bunching up again, and it was back to what I considered to be haphazard pacing - me running fast enough to pass people, but then getting held up when catching the next group of runners either on a climb, or on a technical downhill where they lacked the confidence to just go for it. Now that we were a good five or six hours into the race, I felt like I should have found my rhythm, but things still weren't spread out quite enough, and I was still surrounded by quite a few other people.
After coasting on the trail for a short while, me constantly admiring the views and being in my element, we started to descend. I'm usually quite a good downhill runner and I make up alot of time cranking it out on the downhill sections. Unfortunately things were so steep, dry and dusty, it actually made the downhills much tougher, and when adding in some of the more rocky, technical sections, this caused some bottlenecks, and progress became slower than I would have liked. I shimmied past people as best I could, making great progress at every opportunity, encouraged by other runner's who were also confident on the descents. Some sections were so steep that I tried to use my poles to stop me sliding and falling over, but they were less helpm and more of a hindrance, throwing my balance somewhat and just becoming more cumbersome - poles for me are definitely more useful in the climbs rather than the descents, so I reverted back to moving sideways down the hills to give me better traction and balance.
The rocky and slippery technical downhill continued for a good few kilometres, and then I spotted the checkpoint ahead. It was really warm by now but I was still managing the heat really well, sweating like crazy which I figured is a good thing as it meant my cooling system was working, and making sure I was drinking regularly and eating to keep my energy levels up. I'd drank a good two litres of water, so refilled my bottles at the checkpoint as I didn't know how much longer I would be out there before getting to the TA station where Andy would be waiting. I also grabbed a packet of crisps - carbohydrate, salt, and a good 240 calories to keep me going - they were simple, but just what I needed!
Immediately after the checkpoint, we faced a km long steep climb. Out came my poles again, helping to push me up the hill, overtaking others as I went. The climbing was starting to have an impact on my legs and with the heat, I was certainly moving more slowly going uphill, but I didn't mind - I was still moving and making progress, which was good. Reaching the top, we made a right turn and had some flatter running along what seemed like a ridge, before dropping down sharply once again, taking us into what felt like the Emerald Forest.
Mastering the climbs - PC Sinister Sports
Entering the forest, the trees seemed more dense and the rocky trail became softer underfoot, almost springy with the pine needles providing some cushioning. It was so green in there, a couple of streams passing through, and feeling much warmer and far more humid amongst the trees when compared to the more exposed mountain trails. With the moisture came the flies, and I spent the next couple of kilometres swatting them away as best I could as they tormented me by buzzing around my face and landing on my sweaty arms.
It was here that I think we joined some of the 50km runners, and I certainly noticed an increase in runners. Everybody was so friendly, do courteous, so encouraging.
I found my space again, and as we left the beautiful forest, a short climb took us through a lush green meadow, interspersed with the vibrant colours of the wildflowers. It was a sight to behold and I felt in my element.
It was shortly after this that there was a buzz of activity, and I noticed runners heading in both directions on the trail ahead. I was approaching TA2 and this is where Andy would be, ready to replenish my food and drink, and enabling me to change into fresh socks, eat some food, and have a jolly good drink! I'd also been running with an ice tube around my neck to keep me cool, and I was definitely ready for a refill! In all fairness I was managing the heat really well. I was drinking lots and still peeing, I'd been eating and my stomach was holding out, and although I wasn't feeling quite as strong as last year in the climbs, I was actually doing pretty good.
I ran into the transition area with a big smile, feeling good and confident that my race this far was going well. I was easily meeting the cutoff times and was about two or three hours ahead - if I could just get through the next leg, I knew I was on for a decent finish, and that made me feel pretty excited!
Leg 3 - Willoughby Ridge aka "Satan's Sack" - 30.8km
Having had a good drink of ice cold flavoured fizzy water along with some cold coke, I was looking forward to leg 3 as I would likely be familiar with parts of the course. The leg included a stint on Willoughby Ridge which had also made up a section of The Divide 200 that I completed last year - having had a good run over the ridge in The Divide, I was hoping to replicate something similar in the hundred miler which would put me in good stead for finishing
Leg 3 starts with a steep climb up a ski hill shortly after leaving the TA, and I once again was grateful for my poles which helped me make the most of the climb. Things were now starting to heat up considerably, and I knew that it would be long before I'd be out in the open, exposed to the full force of the sun with no shade. I'd been sure to have Andy full my neck tube with as much ice as possible, but already it was starting to melt, the coolness of the water doing its best job to cool me down.
That climb was tough and I was dripping with sweat, the salt trickling into my eyes and causing blurry vision as I moved along. There were fewer people around me now which I was quite enjoying, and whilst a couple of relay runners overtook me, I think I was still doing ok as a hundred mile soloist. I saw a few runners ahead of me, all of us just keeping our heads down as we shuffled up the hillside, one step at a time, forward moving progress. The trail wasn't too technical despite the steep gradient, and for the time being, we were at least getting some shade amongst the trees.
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| Up, up, up! PC Sinister Sports |
As we emerged from the trees a few miles later, we joined what looked like a forestry road, and I was glad to see some flatter sections and some downhill. I was able to run for quite a bit now, tucking my poles under one arm and breaking into a fairly good pace that saw me gaining on some of the other runner's. It was so hot by now, and I'd been drinking plenty of fluids, but I could feel the salt drying around my face and neck as the sweat evaporated, so I figured I'd better take some salt tabs. I reached into the pocket if my backpack where my salt tabs should have been, and it was empty! It was then I recalled asking Andy to refill the bag with more pills as I knew this leg was long with lots of exposure to the sun, and I wanted to be sure I'd enough tabs to keep me going and avoid sickness. Except he hadn't put them into the pocket, and I later discovered he'd accidentally put them back into the tote I'd been using for medical stuff. Not having salt tabs had me feeling extremely frustrated - what a stupid mistake, and I should know better! - but there was little I could do, and there was no use wasting energy getting all wound up about it.
At least I still had some Skratch which would provide me with those electrolytes, so it wasn't a complete disaster. I had a good drink of Skratch at that point, and took a handful of the trail mix and jelly sweets I had in my pocket. The mix of sugar and savoury was amazing, and with some dried banana chips and some dried mango, I could feel that energy boost starting to take effect a few minutes later.
I was moving well on that gravel road, but I knew a climb must be coming and I was sure not to get too carried away - it's possible to go too fast on the downhills too, do I was trying to stay as disciplined as possible with my pacing. Up ahead I group of people huddled beside a bridge, and as I got closer, I saw that everybody was taking advantage of the cold waters from a river that was flowing through. I obviously joined them, scooping water into my hat and throwing it over myself which felt so refreshing. My legs were filthy from the dust so I washed them down with that cold mountain water, and it never felt so good. Then I drenched my neck tube before tying it around my neck again, enjoying the feel of the water trickling over my hot, sweaty skin. I do desperately wanted to wade into the water and lie down, but I knew having wet feet so early on in the race would be a bad move, I resisted the temptation and continued on my way.
Another left turn took us through more trees, and then we arrived at the checkpoint where nibbles and drinks were available. Crisps had been my go to food so far, so I grabbed another packet in addition to refilling two of my bottles. I was drinking so much that it was difficult keeping things topped up, but so far, I was handling things well, and even my stomach was behaving. The checkpoint aid station was of course busy, some folks sitting in the shade as they tried to manage the heat. One chap forgot himself and used a cup to tip some of the drinking water over his head, but he was instantly rebuffed causing him to be most apologetic, realising in that instant the mistake he'd made.
So far, I was wondering where the heck Willoughby Ridge was. Nothing as yet was remotely familiar to me, although a steep climb up a dirt road seemed vaguely familiar to me, although it wasn't the road I thought it was. At the top of the hill, we made another turn, and we hit some dusty, rocky, single track trail. It was as dry as anything up there, no water flowing, and I was making big dents in my fluids again. The climb had also taken some energy out of me, and I then remembered I'd got a couple of gels mixed with water in my backpack - that would provide me with a boost if energy with a good couple of hundred calories, and also a different flavoured drink. I had a rummage, but couldn't find the gel flask I'd been carrying - dagnammit, I'd also left my gels behind at the TA - jeez, am I some kind of rookie??!! That left me just half a bag of trail mix with some chocolate mixed in. I'd already eaten a mars bar, opting to have it early in before it became one big, melted, chocolatey mess, but now I needed something different from the nuts, and I was annoyed I'd left yet more vital foods behind.
The rocky undulating trail started to climb, and I figured this must be where we started the proper climb up into Willoughby Ridge. Things started to open up, and I was treated to more stunning views of the surrounding mountains, with wildflowers lining the trail, as well as providing a blanket of immense colour on the nearby mountainsides. There was definitely no shade, it was certainly hot, and the few people that I caught were starting to find things a little tougher now that the heat was truly kicking in.
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| Fun on Willoughby Ridge - PC Sinister Sports |
I did pass a few people and then found myself running solo for a couple of miles. I knew we were up on the ridge, but I couldn't work out which direction we had come - things looked familiar, but it somehow felt like I was approaching in the opposite direction from The Divide 200 course. I wasn't sure, but I was thoroughly enjoying the views and was in great spirits and still feeling positive.
Another aid station checkpoint soon appeared, I took a few more nibbles and refilled bottle, and then I continued on my way.
I'd been running pretty much solo for quite a while now, but I was feeling good as was still managing to keep my energy levels up. The climbing hadn't been too bad and I was feeling happy. I started to think about how much time I had left to do things, and I calculated that I think I was still well ahead of the cut-offs. The thirty hours still seemed feasible although I didn't know what was coming over the next 15 to 30 miles - all I could do was stay positive and focused, and to keep moving forwards.
More ridge running followed, a few more rocky ups and downs, more sweat dripping into my eyes, me craving any water source where I could just lie down and soak myself through to the skin in icy cold water, but everything was still so dry and dusty.
After a while, I started a steep descent and I definitely recognised this from my 200 mile race last year. The trail weaved down the mountainside, deep trenches down the middle, and I skipped from side to side, trying to make sure I kept my balance and didn't go skidding into the holes. There was nobody around for what seemed like miles, the terrain flattened out somewhat, and I followed what was now a more sandy trail. It was the same trail where I'd seen cougar prints last year, but this time all I saw were the prints of trail shoes which came as a relief. I saw a couple of other runners ahead of me and as I caught them up, we chatted briefly before going back into our own little worlds, focusing on our race and keeping things moving.
I was still feeling pretty good, admittedly the heat and the sun were now becoming a pain, and all the sweat was attracting the bugs which were very persistent in wanting to crawl around my face, in particular up my nose and around my eyes. Their buzzing was driving me nuts, and I was flinging my arms around, trying to get rid of the pesky buggers. I was getting rather hungry again by now too, and I was craving a good cold drink and some proper food. I knew there would be a checkpoint soon once we hit the road, so I picked up the pace to get me there more quickly.
It's funny how you can go from feelings of complete isolation in a race to suddenly being surrounded by so many people, you wonder where the heck they'd come from! The last hour or so had been so quiet with no sound except the wind rustling through the bushes and my feet crunching on the gravel trail. Now, as I approached the checkpoint, there were about 15 people there, all enjoying a bit of a rest as they took advantage of the supply of food and drink. There was also the most amazing stream right next to the checkpoint, and along with others, I spent a good ten minutes just cooling off in the water. I washed my face, I soaked my feet, I washed down my arms and legs which felt so refreshing having got rid of some of the dirt and dust, and I dunked my hat and neck cooler in the water, drenching them again do that when I put them back on, that cool, mountain water trickled down my back to cool me down. I literally could have stayed there all day, submerged in that water as best I could, but I'd already taken much longer than anticipated to get to this point, and I knew I needed to get a move on.
The section after the checkpoint took us through more beautiful forest, providing some much needed shade after a couple of hours out on the ridge in full sun. It wasn't flat, more undulating, and again there were some steeper sections where maintaining balance was key. Although you don't get the same mountain vistas, I still love running on forest trails, and I was moving at a good clip, overtaking a few more people and opening up a bit of a gap.
Not for the first time today, I heard a couple of people talking about the climb just after the checkpoint. This climb was extremely steep apparently, and lasted for a good couple of kilometres. As yet, I'd not yet encountered the climb despite having left the checkpoint a good twenty minutes ago - maybe even longer - and I wondered if I'd already done it, and that folks had completely over exaggerated. Ignorance is bliss sometimes, but when I did hit that climb, boy did I know about it! I was running along at a decent enough pace despite the fatigue now building in my legs, when I suddenly came to a halt as a handful of runners were bunched up just ahead of me. I looked up and realised that the climb had started, and the steepness was causing everybody to slow abruptly as they started to walk, digging their poles into the ground whilst pushing themselves upwards. It was a narrow trail which made passing difficult, and some folks were pausing to catch their breath, allowing others to pass as best they could.
I managed to pass about five others runners on the climb, keeping my head down and trying not to look up at what lay ahead. I was dripping with sweat, the salt stinging my eyes, my shirt sticking to me, and my sweaty hands causing my poles to slip slightly as I tried to get some grip to push myself up. It felt like baby steps, the climb was relentless, and it felt like I wasn't getting anywhere fast. I'd heard some saying that it was only about one kilometre long, but it seemed to go on for much longer, and I was drinking so much fluid as I continued to climb. After what seemed like forever, I eventually hit the top, and it was then an undulating route with some steep down sections that were once again quite slippy due to being so dry.
I knew that this leg would like take the longest, and the website said that typically people complete leg three in anything between 3 and 5 hours. I had already been going for quite some time, and whilst I was very warm and my legs were starting to feel the all the elevation, I was feeling ok. The crisps I had eaten earlier were helping, I was still tucking in to my trail mix, and I was still drinking really well - as yet, I had not experienced any nausea or lack of energy whatsoever, and I was really chuffed about that. The only problem was that I was now getting hungry, and I really needed some proper food. My tummy was starting to rumble and I was really craving an icy cold drink of coke or something.
Eventually, I arrived back at the ski slope that we'd encountered at the start of the leg, and we started to head down to the transition area. I was still playing cat and mouse with a couple of the ladies - I'd overtake them, only for them to pass me again shortly afterwards, and vice versa, but every time we passed eachother, we'd share a laugh and words of encouragement. Quite a few relay runners were also speeding past me, and I was surprised that there had been so many people still behind me at that point, especially as I hadn't exactly been pushing the pace.
The final descent was much steeper and far drier and slippery than I had thought, and it took much longer to run than I was hoping. I walked a few sections as my quads were getting quite sore from the downhills whilst the steep gradients were pushing my toes to the front of my shoes, causing some mild bruising on the big toes. Finally I could hear the music from the TA and I knew I couldn't be too far away. My mouth started watering at the thought of a beef burger and an icy cold coca cola, and I ran down that final short, steep hill and over the timing mat at the end of leg 3 with a huge smile on my face, eager to get some food inside of me before heading off in the evening to tackle leg 4 and pass the halfway stage.
Leg 4 - Saddle Mountain - 25km
Andy was of course waiting for me at the end of leg 3, and whilst there was no coke, he did have a pint of icy cold chocolate milk which I downed in seconds. I really needed to pee which reassured me that I was not dehydrated, and then I was ready for some food. Except there was no proper food, and I was terribly disappointed! It was now evening and I thought that maybe there would be burgers or meatballs, especially with it being a fairly busy aid station, but the only thing available to eat was a shrivelled up smokey that did little to curb my appetite. If allowed, Andy would have had some hot food ready for me, but the area was far too busy to be able to do that, so I had to make do with snack food again - far too much sugar and not enough savoury food. I tried not to dwell on it too much, but with another long and hilly leg coming up, where I could potentially be out there for another five hours, I really felt like I needed something more substantial to eat at that point, to keep me going for the next few hours. I drank a half bottle of flavoured fizzy water just for a different flavour, drank some pop, ate some more crisps and banana cake, refilled my bottles and restocked my supplies, before waving a Andy a cheery bye bye for the next few hours.
Heading out on leg 4, we followed the same route up the ski-hill before veering off onto some rolling hills through the forest. I was now finding the hills far more difficult and was moving up them far more slowly, and whereas earlier in the day, I had been overtaking people, now they were overtaking me. For quite a while I was running solo as the sun started to set and things started to cool down a little. I was really dusty and sweaty which was attracting the flies as dusk started to fall, and I was being driven nuts by the little devils biting at me whilst trying to swat them away at the same time. The climbing seemed to be endless, and it took me quite some time before I arrived at an open meadow full of wildflowers once again, whilst in distance, I could see the forestry road that we'd ran down earlier. I was eager to reach the road again so that I could dunk my hat and neck cooler in the river to cool down a bit. It had felt so refreshing earlier in the day, and although things were starting to cool down, I was still quite warm and really needed to feel that icy cold water on my skin again!
I spent a good five or ten minutes at the river this time, relishing the cold water, washing my arms and legs down to get rid of all the dust and dirt, and using my hat to scoop water over my head and upper body. I would likely regret getting so wet later on, especially as the temperature dipped and things got even cooler, but for now I didn't care.
I continued on my way, encountering a few more runners as I went along, some of them still moving really well, others struggling and fighting their own race battles, but everybody still being extremely friendly, sharing a smile and words of encouragement. I arrived at the same checkpoint come aid station that we'd passed through earlier, I refilled my drinks once again and grabbed another bag of crisps. The next section would once again take me on a good climb, and I wanted to be sure that I had all the energy I needed to get me through.
I'd been really excited about doing leg 4. Having done the 50 miler last year, I knew that the half way point was coming up, and I couldn't wait to join the section that I had ran last year, as I was certain that the familiarity of the course from there onwards would help to get me to the finish. I ran up the single track trail, slow but steady, still making forward progress. A few runners - mostly relay runners - passed me as the climb started, and before too long, I found myself running solo again without another runner in sight. One of the things that had surprised me so far during the race was that despite spending time on my own, my fear of a bear encounter was much more subdued compared to previous mountain races. I was enjoying those solo moments, taking in the breathtaking views and just running in the moment, although it was becoming more of a fast walk now rather than running, even on the flatter sections.
A couple of undulating miles followed, and then a short stretch that exposed me once again to those incredible mountain vistas. Then yet another climb started .....
I think it was this climb that finished me. I could hear voices ahead of me, but I didn't seem to be catching anybody, whilst behind me I could hear voices but couldn't see anybody following me up the hill. My legs were now completely gone, and the climb was a definite struggle. I was by now at around 40 miles or more, and I was slowing quite considerably with every step. My mind was still feeling positive, my stomach had been behaving itself and I was still eating and drinking exceptionally well - but it felt like I needed far more calories, calories from proper food instead of nuts and seeds and gels and chocolate - and the frustration of not having any proper food available at the last aid station got to me again. Meanwhile, the climb got steeper, I'd think I could see the summit through the trees, but then as I turned the next switchback, I could see that I had been greatly mistaken, and the trail just seemed to keep going upwards as far as the eyes could see.
I have no idea how long it took me to get up that hill, but the voices ahead and behind never got any closer, and eventually all went quiet. I kept shuffling forward, leaning over and relying far more on my poles by now, taking a drink every 10 minutes or so and eating what I could to keep the hunger pangs at bay but to no avail.
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| Finally hit the summit - PC Sinister Sports |
The trees seemed to thin out a bit, and there were large rocks and boulders lining the trail. It reminded a little of the Roaches back in Staffordshire, although these rocks weren't millstone grit, but the pathway and scenery reminded me so much of being back "home" at that point. It was then that I spotted a lady ahead of me, and she appeared to be really struggling. I heard her being sick quite a few times, but then she would get moving again, albeit slowly, and after trailing her I eventually caught up with her. I checked that she was ok- her tummy had completely turned and she wasn't having fun - and I felt awful leaving her to struggle by on her own, even though she told me to carry on and she would be ok. I've been in that very same boat so many times in the past and I could so relate to what she was experiencing, but I also know that I've told people to go ahead as I've not wanted to ruin their race by looking after me.
The sun was definitely setting by now, and it would soon be dark. The golden light on the mountainside looked magnificent, and I could have sat up there all night just looking out at the vast openness before me, but of course I had a job to do, and I was already falling behind on time.
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| Sunset in the mountains |
After leaving the lady behind, the trail started to drop sharply downhill, and I was once again trying to maintain my balance on some extremely dry yet slippery sections, scrambling up, down and over large rocks as I headed down. The good news was that my legs were still moving despite being terribly achy by now, and I hadn't as yet experienced any cramping, so clearly I was taking in enough electrolytes and fluids. However, whilst I was still moving, my mind was working overtime as I tried to work out whether I would now be able to finish within the 30 hour time limit. I was moving much more slowly, my walk wasn't even a power hike anymore, and it was more like a casual stroll through the woods at night. I was also wondering where the heck the route joined the 50 mile route - I really wasn't expecting to still be running on unfamiliar trails at this point, with no sign of anything remotely recognisable ahead of me. The downhill now seemed to be following mountain bike trails, twisting and turning as I ran down, still very dusty from all the recent dry weather. I really wanted to run the downhills but my legs just weren't having it, and the slower I was moving, the more the relay runners were now catching me.
I'm not sure how long I had been moving, but finally - FINALLY! - I came to a trail that looked familiar, and I knew I was now on the 50 mile course. The trouble is that I also knew that there was still a good couple of hours running to the end of this stage, and by then, it would only leave me something like 13 hours to run that last 45 miles or whatever - it had taken me 12 hours to do the 50 miles last year, and whilst I was certain I could hit the TA cutoffs, I wasn't convinced I would hit the 30 hours cutoff. I joined the trail, my mind preoccupied with maths calculations, trying to work out speed, distance and time to get me to the finish, and was passed by about five chaps who were running together, all in great spirits, all having a great time and clearly having fun. As the mosquitoes swarmed around me, as the sweat trickled in my eyes and my quads complained about the ups and downs, I started to ponder whether I was actually still having fun. I usually love running through the night, this is my time, the time when I usually excel, but I just didn't have the enthusiasm and excitement I usually have when thinking about the night ahead on mountain trails.
I ran down another rocky section, feet slipping and sliding all over the place, and when I arrived at the small river at the bottom of the hill, I stopped to wash myself down and cool off, whilst pondering whether I really wanted to do another 40+ miles feeling the way I did. Did I have time to turn things around? If I was able to get some proper food at the next aid station, would it be enough to give me the energy to start moving more quickly again and save my race? I knew what the next few miles brought - I also knew what the remainder of the race would be like as I had ran these sections before. The bit I was dreading most was the 5km on the ATV tracks - I found that tough enough last year with the dust and the dirt and the noise - how would I cope with it tonight, given that my mind had already started to go into negative mode? And I had to run it not once, but twice. I wasn't looking forward to it. Then I figured that if I could just get through to the end of leg 5, I could do it - I just HAD to do leg 5 first. But every time I thought of leg 5, I knew I wanted to quit. I knew that I would end up walking some of it, and I was already walking far too much - I just didn't want to do it.
I arrived at the checkpoint still pondering whether to try for a finish or DNF, the volunteers being so kind and caring, saying all the right things, providing us with snacks and drinks, and more importantly bug spray! Be gone you mosquitoes...!!
The next couple of miles involved yet more climbing. The group of other runners were now way ahead of me, heading off in the growing darkness, and as I followed the trail through the forest, I took out my headtorch. I heard the snap of branches in the trees behind me and quickly turned to shine my light into the darkness - I'm not sure whether I felt relieved that I saw nothing, or more apprehensive that I had heard something that was now watching me, but I was unable to see them! I made my way up the steep climb, along the flatter wooded sections, and then arrived at the gateway that would take me on the undulating trail that in the daylight provided more incredible views of the surrounding mountains. Instead, I was now treated to views of a beautifully clear night sky, stars shining brightly alongside the moon, and the dark silhouetted outline of the mountain peaks - it still looks amazing! I went to take a drink of water, but as I reached into my backpack, I realised that I must have dropped one of my bottles on the way up. I'd already emptied my other, and right now, I just wanted some cold water rather than Skratch or Tailwind - I had taken salt tabs and didn't feel like I needed salty drinks too. But it was another 10km or so before I would see Andy and be able to refill things again - at the pace I was moving, that would be another 90 minutes at least, and even though it was now dark, it was still quite muggy and warm.
I carried on without drinking, figuring I would be ok if I just munched on the orange I had, but my mouth was started to feel like cardboard, extremely dry without any saliva - I needed to drink. I then remembered I still had some Tailwind in a bottle tucked in my backpack, so I stopped to take it out. Unfortunately, just one small sip was enough to have me retching in the bushes, my body wanting to be sick but not having anything there to bring up - it definitely didn't want the Tailwind! Instead, I tried to eat some more food, hoping that would be enough to get the salivary glands working and putting some moisture in mouth. It helped but it was short lived, and it was back to cardboard for the next few miles.
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| Moonlight and mountains |
A lady and a gent eventually caught me and we ran in companionable silence for a few km, stopping at water crossing to cool off and wash ourselves down. At one point, the beam of my headtorch hit a frog, and he jumped out of the way, trying to avoid being blinded by the light - I felt bad that I had not only startled him but also put him in the full beam of a torch - sorry buddy!
By now, I knew that I was only a couple of miles away from the finish of leg 4, so I sent a quick message to Andy to let him know I was contemplating a DNF. I hated admitting defeat as I only had a goal to finish the race, nothing more, but in reality, I knew I hadn't done enough mountain running, I knew the climbs would take their toll on my legs, and I was right. I was still having a mental battle with myself, still wanting a finish, but knowing that if I didn't make the 30 hour cutoff, i'd be terribly disappointed, and it would all have been for nothing. I always tell myself that I have absolutely nothing to prove to myself or anybody else, the decision to stop is mine and mine alone, and whatever others think doesn't really matter. But I hate the thought of Andy being disappointed in me or for me. Thankfully he is very understanding, and like me, he is very honest about what I can and cannot do.
The last mile or so along the road in to the transition area seemed to go on forever, but eventually I saw the welcoming lights ahead, and I sped up a little to get me there more quickly. Everybody greeted me with cheers and clapping which made me feel even worse a out wanting to quit, but I gave my thanks before scuttling into the warm area where Andy had everything prepped for me.
I had now completed 57 miles and I had 13 hours to do the remaining 43 miles. On a flatter course, I know I could have done it, but with another 10,000 feet of climbing to do, and running that through the night on more technical trails, it was going to be tough. As I finally munched my way through some proper food consisting meatballs and perogies, and as I downed a delicious cup of hot, milky, sugary coffee, Andy and I chatted about the feasibility of still finishing. At that moment in time, I was good with stopping, and so the decision was made - I handed in my timing chip, and gave up the chase, preferring to save myself for another day, when I would be far better prepared.
Of course I was and still am somewhat disappointed by the decision- in hindsight, if I had sat at the aid station for half an hour to let the food and drink take effect, and then started to move slowly to tackle leg 5, I would have finished leg 5 and should have made the decision then as to whether I should continue or not. I wasn't feeling sick or having any tummy issues, I still needed to pee and poop, the problem was the climbs were seriously slowing me down far more than normal, and I needed to move more quickly, something I wasn't sure I would be able to do, even with a million more calories in me. It wasn't necessary the energy, but more the strength I was lacking, and on leg 4, the fun of the run had also gone.
Some people ask how I prepare myself to face my peers when I make a decision to DNF, as they feel embarrassed at the thought of it. I can't speak for others, only myself, and my view is that I have completed so many ultras in the almost 18 years I've been competing in ultra events, I don't feel like I need to prove anything, whether to myself or others. I also know myself better than anybody else - I know how my body feels, I know how my mind is dealing with things, I know how my training has gone, and what other goals I have over the coming weeks. Nobody else can speak for me as they aren't me, and whilst it's taken me a while, I have finally realised that it really doesn't matter what others think - true supporters will support your decision, no matter what.
I now have unfinished business with Sinister Seven 100-miler, and I know that I will be back to do it properly and get to that finish line. Whether that will be next year, I don't know. All I do know is that I am not getting any younger, and I hope to take advantage of my ability to continue running whilst I can for as long as I can - so long as I enjoy what I do, so long as I can compete against myself and prove myself wrong, then I will keep on trying until I finally achieve that goal.
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