Although I had completed the Canadian Death Race twice before, both times had seen me lose a considerable amount of time on leg 4 of the race, affectionately known as the "Hamell Assault". It was also on this leg that I DNF'd one year - for some reason, Mount Hamell is always a struggle for me, and I end up spending most of my time throwing up shortly after the climbing starts, and then being unable to eat or drink anything for hours afterwards, which results in me not having the race that I was hoping for.
When originally registering for CDR this year, my goal was to get under 20 hours. I'd been doing far more hill work in my training, albeit on the treadmill, and I was feeling much stronger than in previous years, so much so that I truly believed I could go sub 20. However, my race plan changed following the announcement that I had been selected to represent Canada at the World 24-hour Championships in October - not surprisingly, the 24-hour became a greater priority race for me, and CDR would become just a long training run where I would test out a new approach to my nutrition in the hope that I could finish the race feeling strong and with minimal vomiting.
Unlike previous years where I've done the race in hot and smokey conditions, we'd had quite a wet and soggy summer, and conditions on race day were expected to be much cooler with yet more rain in the forecast. Having done the race before, I knew this would mean that some sections of the course would be terribly muddy and slick, making an already challenging course even more difficult.
We arrived at Tent City on the Thursday and things were already pretty wet, and when collecting my race package on the Friday, the heavens opened and we had a complete downpour whilst thunder rumbled overhead, the "boom" echoing into the distance as the sound bounced off the mountains. Storms were forecast for race day and I wasn't looking forward to being on the mountain tops in a thunderstorm, but I did at least feel reassured that I would not be alone and could hunker down with other runners or the volunteers out on the course if it came to that.
Prepping my race gear the night before, I planned out my fuel strategy with Andy. He would be crewing me again, and we wanted to be sure I gave myself every opportunity to achieve my goal for this race - to finish without puking. One thing I have come to realise in recent races is that hydration plays a huge part in how queasy I feel, and I now try to drink at least a litre of fluid every hour. This include a mix of water and electrolyte, usually Skratch as I much prefer the flavour these days when compared to Tailwind, but this time I was also going to try some G1M which not only provided electrolytes but also a good dose of carbohydrate energy. I was also planning on alternating between gels and solids, taking fuel onboard every 20 to 25 minutes with the aim being to consume around 300 calories an hour. I was also going to tackle my aid station transitions a little differently - instead of rushing in and out in an attempt to save time, I was going to take my time, make sure I had everything I needed, and that I refuelled properly. We had a plan - now all we needed to do was execute it to see how it worked out.
This year was the 25th anniversary of the Canadian Death Race, and the number of runners registered seemed far more than I recalled in previous years. The starting funnel was jam packed and the atmosphere was buzzing. I bumped into a couple of friends and had a quick chat, and before we knew it, we were on our way.
Leg 1 is my least favourite simply because it is far too crowded, people are excited, and there are lots of people trying to get into the right position for those starting photos. There's lots of weaving in and out of the slower runners that start too far forward, but I always try to tell myself to be patient - the race hasn't started yet, so pace doesn't really matter. On leaving the road and finally hitting the trails, there's always a bottleneck, and this year was no different. This stretch of the course is always muddy with huge puddles and slippery rocks, many of the runners don't want to get their feet wet this early on as it could cause problems later on with blisters, but I really didn't care about the wet feet. I knew I had spare socks and shoes that I could change into, so rather than lining up to wriggle our way on the verge above the puddles, I just ran through them, gaining a few places as I did so. The other problem on leg 1 is people using poles. I'm not a strong hill runner, but I would never even contemplate using poles on leg 1. Others would disagree, and there were several occasions where I found myself being accidentally clipped by a pole, or unable to overtake because of poles flaying all over the place. As I say, I am not a huge fan of leg 1!
I'd told Andy that I would be at the first aid station in around 1 hour 45 minutes, and I was right on cue. He'd managed to get there before the rush and park up pretty close to the aid station making my transition far more efficient and slick that expected. I quickly changed my socks, ate some food and drank some cool, fresh water, patted Wilson on the head (our car really was right next to the aid station!), then set off on leg number 2.
With two mountain summits, bum slide, slug fest and power line all being encountered on leg 2, it's not surprising that this is considered to be one of the harder legs at Death Race, and it's where I've made up ground on others in previous years, where they've set off a little too fast at the start. The worst part I find is the first mile or so alongside the rail track - I hate that section, and lots of people were sprinting past me. I'd picked up my poles for this leg and also swapped out my backpack for my Solomon pack, but the pack was twisted and the bladder was digging in my back. I stopped briefly to have a fiddle and make things more comfortable, allowing a good crowd of runners to go speeding by. I really had the sense that I was now right at the back of the field, but I tried not to get too concerned about being left behind.
Before long, I was staring the long climb that would take us to the summit of Grand Mountain. Up ahead there seemed to be an endless crowd of runners, powering their way up the climb. I was gaining on them relatively quickly, the strength from my increased hill training coming to the fore, but when catching up and trying to pass, it was far too crowded to do so. I sat in behind them, waiting for an opportunity to slip by when I could. I was making sure that I was still eating and drinking to schedule, and so far, I was feeling well fuelled and energised. Although we weren't bathed in glorious sunshine, things were far warmer and muggy compared to what I was expecting. As yet, we'd had none of the rain we had been expecting, and conditions weren't too bad. I was actually having fun, feeling relieved that so far, my tummy had been behaving itself .
Having past the rockier section of the trail and reached the slightly undulating section, things got muddy again with puddles stretching across the entire trail. I'd passed most of crowds by now and found I had more space around me, but there was the occasional group of runners that were still reluctant to get their feet wet or dirty. I blasted past these when I could, feeling fantastic and relishing the cool feeling of the mud splashing up my legs - there's something about being covered in mud that makes me feel like a true adventurer!
Before I knew it, I had reached the point where the soloists and the marathon runners split, and the soloists have to make their way up the final steep climb to the top of Grand. There were a few runners ahead of me that were struggling a little on that climb, and I politely asked if I could slip by. I was surprised at how good I was feeling on the climbs - I knew I'd been aiming to strengthen my climbing legs, but this was extremely pleasing as it was usually others that were politely asking if they could pass me! My hike was powerful and strong, and even when I needed to move more slowly due to steeper inclines or mud, I was sure to "shuffle" rather than walk, figuring that a 13 minute mile shuffle was much better than a 20 minute mile walk. It didn't seem to take very long at all before I was at the top where I paused, took some photos, and then started to make my way back down the mountainside.
A few runners were resting at the top so I found myself running on my own. Suddenly there was a rustling in the bushes next to me, and I saw black movement out of the corner of my eyes. I think I squealed at that moment, my initial reaction being that a bear had been there feeding on the berries. I was relieved to see that it wasn't a bear, but rather an embarrassed young chap who'd had a pee in the bushes. We both laughed about it, and then for the remainder of the race, we seemed to keep bumping into each other and joking about the "bear incident".
Having made it to the summit of Grand Mountain, the next challenge was getting down slug fest and bum slide - two extremely steep sections of trail that given the amount of rain we'd had, would likely be terribly muddy and slick. IT's also the section where we meet up with the marathon runners again, and the bottlenecks start. As I started the descent, a group of hesitant runners were just ahead, cautiously making their way down the trail, clinging to every branch and twig they could find to prevent them just sliding. I desperately needed to get past them as they really were moving far too slowly and I too had people behind me, desperate to get past, and they were putting pressure on me to move. I dug my poles in to the mud and just went for it, sliding past the others as best I could without knocking them over, and somehow managing to stay upright myself. At one point, I did catch my pole in a tree root and nearly went flying headfirst down the hill, but I managed to recover and kept on moving. Whilst I've always been quite a reckless downhill runner, as I'm getting older, I am becoming much more cautious myself, but today, i was loving it and just let that mud take me where it needed to.
I was filthy, my feet were sopping wet, but I was loving every minute. On reaching the bottom, we then had to make our way back up, and it was back to shin deep mud and steep climbs up a narrow ditch. I was stuck behind more runners again, unable to sneak past, and I couldn't see anything ahead of me. When the chap in front of me paused for a break, I asked to go past, and it was only then that I realised that nobody was actually directly in front of him. I was relieved and just went for it, trying to make up for lost time whilst my feet were flying left and right in the mud, trying to get some traction to propel me forwards instead of sideways.
The run through the muddy tree section went smoothly, but when I reached the aid station before the final climb to the summit of Flood Mountain, I was surprised at just how many people there were there. Thankfully I still had plenty of fluid and didn't need to refill anything, and I didn't need any food so I proceeded up the rocky climb, trying to get ahead of the crowds. I was making good progress and so far I was pretty much on schedule with what I had hoped for - so far, my race was going to plan, and I was still feeling well fuelled with no signs of lacking energy.
As the trail opened up to the final summit, the rain started to come down. It wasn't heavy, more a light drizzle moving in, but things had cooled off and I was wondering whether I needed to put on my waterproof or not. I knew I'd be heading back down into town shortly, and whilst it would likely be another hour of running, I didn't feel like I yet needed to throw on a jacket. I'd change into something warm and dry at the next aid station.
Heading down the power line was just as steep and slippery as I remembered, made worse by the wet conditions. Not only did we have to contend with the mud, but the rocks were slippy too, and there were a couple of times where I slid much further down the hill that I had intended. Thankfully I didn't fall, but I was finding the pole to be more of a pain on the downhill that the uphill, and I tucked them under my arms to give me better balance.
Earlier in the year, there had been so much rain in the area that there had been a washout on powerline, resulting in the a reroute of the course for race day. Shortly before taking the new route through the trees the rain started to fall a little heavier and was becoming more noticeable. I grabbed my waterproof as I headed into the trees, the water dripping off the trees and running through the overgrown sections making us even wetter. The new route through the trees was far prettier, but it was also very steep and muddy, the type of mud that sticks to the shoes and makes you feel like you're carrying lead weights. A few of the other runners had once again caught up with me, and I let them pass, not wanting to fall and ruin my race. Alot of these runners were relay runners or marathon runners, speeding up as they were coming to the end of their race - I still had another 70km or something to go!
The rain really was coming down as I made my way through the town, and I couldn't wait to see Andy to get a change of socks and clothes. So far, I had been wearing the La Sportiva shoes and they'd been gripping really well. I didn't want to change my shoes, but fresh socks would definitely be on the cards.
Andy was waiting for me with a hot drink and some nibbles. It was by now past lunch time and those hunger pangs I have during races were nagging at me, so Andy went to grab a bowl of meatballs for me whilst I changed my clothing and refilled my backpack. Leg 3 was a shorter one again so I didn't need to carry quite as much with me. It was also the leg where the queasy feeling sets in and I was really hoping that today, I would not encounter those feelings. I scoffed down the meatballs, grateful for the warm food in my belly, and felt the benefits of having that extra food almost immediately. I was still feeling really good, my legs were holding out - tired yes, but no major problems as yet - I was doing ok and I was happy.
Another change in course due to weather conditions earlier in the year greeted us on the start of leg 3, and instead of running through the landfill, we were sent up the hillside and through the forest for a about 5km. There is no denying that this trail was exceptionally pretty and far better than the mucky route of previous years, but it was also a very steep climb to start, made even more difficult by the mud and lack of grip. There was nothing to grab hold of to get me up that climb, so I was just putting my hands in the mud on the ground and pushing myself up. I didn't take my poles on leg 3 as I didn't consider it hilly enough, but boy was I wishing I had them at that point. After reaching the top, we followed a newly built trail that meandered through the trees. It was narrow and terribly slippy, and there were lots of footprints that clearly showed people ahead had been slipping and sliding just as much as I was doing.
After a short while, we joined the main trail that I was more familiar with. I had been following a group of about 5 runners, but on hitting the wider, rockier trail, they dropped back, leaving just myself and another lady to surge ahead. I wasn't able to catch the other lady, but I tried to keep her in my sights. This leg always made me nervous, mainly because of the signs warning of grizzly bears in the area. I was carrying bear spray, but I always wonder if I would be able to react calmly enough were a bear to charge me, so I'm always worried of such an encounter. Having somebody in the vicinity made me feel much better, even if they were 50 yards ahead of me.
I was quite content to trot along the trail at a nice, steady pace. Some parts were covered in boulders that looked to be from rockfalls over the years, and when it wasn't rocky, it was the same slick mud that had been made worse due to the steadily falling rain. Although it was still raining, I'd removed my waterproof as I was just too warm, and it felt far more refreshing to have my arms exposed to the air and the rain. One particular section of leg 3 always makes me even more nervous, mainly because there is usually an abundance of berries, and it's prime habitat for bears. I find myself almost sprinting through this section due to fear, and today was no exception even though I had been passed by a couple of other runners, and I knew there were others not too far behind. It was after the race that I heard that there had been bears in the area, and that a group of racers had been charged - this further justified my nerves and fears!
Thankfully I made it through that dreaded section without incident, and we hit the dirt road that would take us down to the bridge by the power plant. The dirt road was extremely hard work. It was so soft from the rain, and my feet were sinking a good couple of inches into the dirt. It was a two mile slog, and I was not alone in venting my frustrations and impatience on this stretch! I was relieve to reach the bridge, even if it meant a mile of so of running on pavement.
I was by now just 5km or so from the aid station that came before Hamell Assault, and I was still feeling good with no problems with my stomach. There were a couple of acidic burps which I promptly treated by chewing on some raw ginger, and so far it was working. I really couldn't believe that I wasn't feeling sick yet, and that my stomach was still willing to accept both food and drink as I ran along. The course turned up into the trees at the side of the road, we were greeted with more mud and more climbs, and then before I knew it, I was rounding the corner and making my way into the aid station. I was in tears as I crossed the timing mat for the end of leg 3 - I was not feeling sick, I was actually hungry, and I was eager to climb Hamell!
I found Andy amongst the crowds and due to how busy things were, we walked back to the car where I had a sit down and changed all my clothes. I filled my face with food - a turkey sandwich, crisps, cake, you name it, I ate it, and not once did I hesitate, not once did I burp sick, not once did I feel like I didn't want to eat. I knew then that it was highly likely I was going to achieve my goal this time - to finish the race without any sickness, and to complete leg 4 without having to stop for an hour due to lack of energy and no food.
Waving a very happy and cheery bye bye to Andy, I started leg 4 feeling the most happiest and optimistic I have ever been at the Canadian Death Race. I was still a little cautious that everything was going to go belly up in the next half hour or so, but the further I climbed up through the trees, the more I kept going without feeling faint, or dizzy, or sick, the stronger I felt and the more determined I felt. I was overtaking people on that climb, something I have never been able to do in the past, I saw others struggling and feeling sick and I could so relate, and I felt almost selfish feeling as good as I did.
I reached the first checkpoint in record time for me, and progressed up that mountain side. The bit between the two checkpoints and aid station on this side of Hamell whizzed by, and although the climb was still as tough and long as I remembered, I again covered it in record time. On reaching the aid station, I had a huge smile on my face - how could I still be feeling this good, when usually I;m ready to quit?I refilled bottles, I ate chocolate, I grabbed a bag of crisps, and I carried on upwards.
I love the rocky switchback section of this mountain - the views are incredible, and if heading up there in the late afternoon or early evening, the light as the sun sets is really pretty. It was somewhat cool on the switchbacks as the wind picked up and we became more exposed, and I found I had to pull down my sleeves to keep off the chill. Those final steps as I was greeted by the marshall at the top of the mountain were the best ever - I had made it without being sick, and on messaging Andy to let him know I was at the top, he told me afterwards that he was surprised as it had only taken me something like 90 minutes to 2 hours compared to 3 hours or more in previous years.
I ran across the ridge to collect my coin, tucked it safely in my backpack, and started my decent down the other side. I was now running pretty much on my own again as I had passed quite a few people on the climb, and it was starting to go dark. There were a few miles to run through the forests at the foot of the mountain, and it was again a section where I get nervous. In a previous year, there had been a cougar encounter with somebody, and I've also ran through in the past and my headtorch has shown up eyes peering at me through the darkness. The trouble is that the trail gets quite rough with sharp ditches and lots of rocks, huge puddles and of course mud, so it isn't always possible to run fast even if you are able to.
I held off putting on my headtorch for as long as possible, but by around 10pm, it had to come out. It made things even more eerie now that it was just my headtorch out there - the wildlife would definitely see me coming now, and I wasn't sure if it made me feel better or worse. I felt relieved when another headtorch was spotted ahead through the trees, or when somebody came up behind me, but otherwise there was plenty of talking and singing to myself.
I was feeling extremely happy and felt like I was having a really good race so far. I wasn't fast, but I was doing better than expected, and I was in a good place. But at some point, the next aid station just seemed to be taking forever and ever, the trail looked different in the dark, and it seemed far more overgrown than I remembered. I started to wonder if I'd missed a turn as nothing looked remotely familiar. The flagging was more difficult to see in the dark, and I frantically looked for those reflective markers on the trees which were difficult to see with all the growth. Finally, I could hear some music playing, and I knew that the aid station wasn't too much further, and coming in to all that activity, it was so nice to see Debi and Bryan Wallace of the Rivers Edge Ultra.
The Ambler Loop aid station always seems to busy and it's the spot where alot of people DNF. I DNF'd here a few years ago, lacking energy and motivation and just generally in a very negative mental state, I couldn't believe the difference today though, and having grabbed a cup of chicken noodle soup, I set off down the road to complete the 5km Ambler Loop.
Yet again, the nerves kicked in as I found myself running solo in complete darkness aside from the headtorch. I kept telling myself that it was just a mile out, and mile up, then a mile down - I'd be done in no time. But that forest is dark, there are lots of trees, rocks and bushes that critters can hide behind, and I find that I'm making so much noise that I think I'd frighten even the others runners away. Some of the trail was muddy as hell and my feet sank into the soft ground, then there were puddles where I was able to wash away all the mud but got soaking wet feet in the process. The good news was that as yet, I wasn't aware of any blisters, and I was doing ok.
Up and down, up and down I went, and I found myself wondering how much further before I was back at the aid station and could start the run down the dreaded Beaver Dam Road. It wasn't too long, and before I started my trek down the gravel road, I grabbed some ginger beer and a coke, and washed down a gel with some water. I wasn't perhaps eating as much as I should have been doing by now, but I was still feeling good and I wasn't struggling with any nausea or tummy aches.
Runner down Beaver Dam Road, I chatted to a couple of other runners, and whilst my legs weren't too happy, I had it in my mind once again that a shuffle is far better than a walk, and so I just kept on moving forwards. Down and down we went, making progress but no idea how much in the darkness. I could see car lights down on the main road, but the main road never seemed to get any closer. It was another slog, but I knew that it wouldn't be long before I'd see Andy again, I could refuel and have something warm to eat and drink again, and then I was on the home stretch with just 16km to do on leg 5.
I hit the main road and followed the ditch to the river. I stumbled through the river, using my poles to help maintain my balance on the wet rocks under the surface, scrambled out the other side, then continued at a jog over the final mile or so into the aid station where Andy was waiting.
I didn't spend too much time here - I was eager to finish and I knew I had no more than 3 hours to go to finish at most. I wasn't going to finish in under 20 hours, but 21 hours was looking likely - I was excited and happy!
I took my poles with me again on the final leg as there are some hefty climbs in the first couple of miles, and I felt like I'd need something to help me up. My legs were definitely tired now, but they were still moving and that's all I could ask of them. I was on my own heading out on leg 5, but there were lights ahead, and with my steady pace, I was catching people again. I overtook some folks, others I think were reluctant to let me pass, so I tucked in a short distance behind, keeping them in my sights from a wildlife safety perspective again.
Leg 5 takes runners through the forest and it is quite overgrown with long grass, bushes and tree roots along the way.My poles kept getting caught in the grass and I almost tripped myself up a few times, but thankfully there had still been no falls. I remembered this leg really well, although the split rock took much longer to reach that I was expecting. I could smell that river crossing on the boat at Sulphur Gates,and I was eager to get there. I pushed on, an unexpected energy pushing me forwards to the finish line.
Shortly before the steep decent down to the river boat, a few other runners caught up, and we all ran together so we could grab the same boat. We were about 200m away, so I started to rummage for my coin that had been safely tucked away in the pocket of my backpack. Then I remembered that there is a short, steep, sandy hill down to the river, and with having my poles, I was worried that I would end up tripping and losing my coin - my race would be over if that happened, so I put it in the front pocket of my pack before I started down the hill.
Having safety reached the beach area alongside the river, Charon held out his hand for the coin .... except I couldn't find it in my pocket. Shit, shit, shint!!! I must have dropped it on the way down that flaming hill after all! Why hadn't I just waited until I got to the bottom by the boat?! I started to walk back up the hill, frantically searching for the coin in the beam of my headtorch, but to no avail. I was gutted! I had another rummage in my pocket, and relief flooded through me - that darn coin had become stuck in the stitching right in the corner of the darn pocket - I hadn't lost it afterall!!!! I handed over that coin, hopped in the boat, and crossed that Smokey River on the way to the finish of the Canadian Death Race.
Reaching the opposite river bank, I wasn't able to keep up with the other runners, so I found myself running alone once again in the dark. I made steady progress up the other steep hill on the opposite side, munching on food and having a drink of water as I went, feeling comfortable in the knowledge that I had approximately 10k to complete, and even if I walked the entire way, I would still finish within the 24 hour time limit - as things stood, I was on for around about 21 hours 30, which I would be more than happy with.
The last time I did the Death Race, this last section was not as I remembered, and it felt like the course had been changed when compared to the first year I had done it. This time, I was able to visualise those final miles and I knew what was coming. I didn't feel disorientated in teh slightest when we seemed to go backwards and forwards along the same ridge, or climbed up to the top of yet another rocky hill where we were greeted by gusty winds and a chill. I knew that all I had to do was keep pushing forwards, keep going towards the finish line. At one point I caught a chap that I had been running with earlier in the day - he was in agony with his knee and he had no painkillers. I offered him some of mine which he reluctantly took, and I headed off into the darkness, leaving him behind and hoping that he too made it safely to the finish - he came speeding past me about half an hour later, telling me the painkillers had worked and he was feeling fantastic. I wished him well as I now watched him disappear into the darkness. I caught another chap or was struggling, and we spoke briefly. He stopped suddenly to ask if I'd seen that in the bushes, and I felt a wave of panic as he pointed out a pair of eyes staring back at us. We both froze, but then the eyes moved, followed by a body, and we were relieved to see that it appeared to have been a fox - something that both of us could handle ... phew!
I kept on going and moved ahead, every step bringing me closer to the finish, every step making me feel happy as I knew I was going to achieve my goal. Before long, we ran past what I think is a golf course or something, then we hit the road which I knew would bring a steep climb back into town. I shuffled up the climb, overtaking a couple of runners that were now just walking it in, and then I was doing the stint through town, running past the leisure centre, and there it was, the finishing arch just ahead.
I crossed the finish line in 21 hours 20 minutes and I was over the moon! 118km done with a crazy amount of elevation, rain, mud, wind, chilly temperatures, but no vomiting whatsoever and only one blister -I really couldn't have asked for a better result and a better day on those trails.
Looking back at how things went, I have to say that I do feel like I had the best race. My nutrition was spot on, and the fact that I was still able to eat and drink in the latter stages of the race is a huge improvement compared to my races in recent years. Even the meatballs didn't upset my stomach, I had a turkey sandwich that hit the spot, doughnuts, cake,crisps, gels - everything just seemed to work and it worked well. I think I was 9th lady on the day which was surprising, especially given the number of younger women I see racing ultras these days.
Having had a successful race this year, I don't feel the need to go back to the Canadian Death Race again - I beat Hamell, and that's all I ever wanted. There are so many other races that I want to do, and I'm not getting any younger. There are also other goals that I have with my running, like breaking the age group record at the 24-hour. The World Championship 24 hour event is coming up - let's see what happens there.
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