Adam Campbell

February Contest--week 3 entries

2012-02-27T19:51:00.006-08:00

Here are the final Arc'teryx contest submissions for February. Thank you once again to everyone who played along and shared tales, pictures and videos of your various global adventures on two feet. There's been some great diversity of entries and it just reinforces my perception of how lucky we are to be able to experience our surroundings on the run. It won't be easy to pick a winner.

Remember, this contest will run all year, with a different Arc'teryx prize up for grabs each month, so please keep the submissions coming. I'll announce the winner of this month's contest on Thursday.

Cheers,
Adam

____________________________________________________________________

James Eilers
On my road trip from Houston, TX to San Diego I took the scenic route which ended up taking me down the Apache Trail through some beautiful canyons heading into Phoenix. I stopped at one of the campgrounds along the narrow cliff-hanging roads to take in some of the scenery and get my feet in the dirt.

http://jameseilers.com/post/16881782283

_______________________________
Christopher Harris

Hello this is a photo of myself taking a quick photo break while trail running up Sharp Top Mountain here in Bedford and Amherst County Virginia. (As you figured the mountain is on the county line). The weather was excellent that day and we made great time, summiting in a little over an hour as I recall. The summit altitude of the mountain is a little over 4000 feet and has magnificent 360° views. We saw several skittish deer during our run. Overall it was a great run and Sharp Top remains as one of my favorite places to trail run!

__________________________________________
Audrey Giles

Here’s my submission entitled “Strange things done in the midnight sun.”

The photos were taken right by Kluane National Park on the dirt path/optimistically named road to Silver City (an abandoned mining town) in the Yukon. The photos were taken by my twin sister, Sarah Giles, while a friend drove our rental car. I had them let me off 9km from where we were staying so that I could get a run in that evening (yup, it’s evening – it is land of the midnight sun, after all). They then proceeded to blast all my favourite running tunes from the car (see photo 6569), taunt me, critique my running form, and act like ill-behaved paparazzi for every inch of the 9km run through some of the most gorgeous scenery our country has to offer. It was one of the most memorable experiences of my life. It may not be the sort of trail that you want for your contest, but I think that the remoteness and general awesomeness of it should meet your criteria!

_____________________________________________

VIMFF Speaking notes

2012-02-23T13:38:00.005-08:00

Last Thursday, the Vancouver International Mountain Film Festival hosted its first ever Trail Running Night. Due to the great line-up of films, the show sold out and unfortunately, they had to turn people away at the door.
Along with Rich Wheater (author of the Vancouver Trail Running guidebook), I was invited to be a speaker. I was asked to speak for 30-40 minutes and not having much a reference, I wasn’t sure what exactly to talk about, so I sort of rambled on for a while about my experiences. I’ve had some people ask about the show and my presentation, so I’ve decided to post my speaking notes. I haven't edited them, so they are incredibly rough and likely have a tonne of spelling mistakes, so I apologize to the grammarians and perfectionists reading this.
I accompanied my talk with a slide show and obviously, what’s written isn’t exactly what I said, but it’s what I based my talk around. It’s pretty long and I apologize if I put anyone to sleep, but that was a good chunk of time to fill!
I want to thank everyone who came for their kind comments after the show and for supporting the night. Alan Fromanek, the festival director was very pleased with how it all went and assured me that there will definitely be a follow up trail running night next year. I can’t want to see what the filmmakers do in 2012!

Introduction
Anyway, thank you all for coming out tonight to the Inaugural Trail Running Night and, most importantly, thank you to Alan and everyone at the Vancouver Mountain Film Festival for hosting us.
It is an amazing testament to the growth and current state of the trail running, ultraunning and mountain running, I never know how to label the sport, that they can dedicate an entire night to our passion.
Although to be fair, it’s also ABOUT BLOODY TIME.
Don’t get me wrong, I get excited by watching people base jump, free solo and kayak down the Amazon, but after walking, running is probably the single most universal activity.
Let me do a quick poll, via cheers, how many of you know someone who’s BASE Jumped?
Okay, how many of you know someone who’s kayaked down the Amazon?
Although you’re a biased crowd, how many of you run?
How many of you know someone who’s run?
That’s what I thought
I’m sure we’d get the same response if we polled the crowds at the tiger night, the climbing night, or the skiing night.
Truth is running is all around us. Think about a Holywood movie-a couple run towards their love, we run away from things we’re afraid of, we run errands, we run around aimlessly, we run for a cause, we run to catch a bus, we run for the cure, we run to set personal bests, we run to see if we can cover the distance, we run to explore and some people run to win races.
Running and hiking are probably the single biggest participation outdoor activities out there. They may lack the thrill and excitement of some of the other sports featured at this festival, although after watching some of the movies that are coming up, that’s debatable. It’s definitely a sport that we can all relate with.
I think it’s fair to say that we’re running creatures. In fact, some people have argued that WE ARE BORN to RUN.
Why Do I Run????
I arrogantly entitled my talk “Why do I run?” I say arrogantly, because the more I think about the, the more I realize that there isn’t actually one right answer.
My answer is different every time I put on a pair of shoes and my answer would change over the course of a run and that’s what I like about it.
It’s a very personal act.
I think the same can be said for any passion. It’s not something that can be verbalized, it’s a feeling, a drive, a desire, to see what I can get my body to do and where my body can take me.
When I think back to some of the places I’ve run, I’m blown away and I also consider myself incredibly lucky.
Running encompasses a large part of my life. It’s highly meditative, it dictates what I eat and drink, when I sleep.
I proposed to my wife on a run, I have some of my deepest conversations with friends on the trails and we share a lot of laughs, it’s how I frame the world.
It’s allowed me to explore my backyard and new cities and experience them in ways many people never get to. Have you ever woken up jet lagged in the middle of the night, or early in the morning, in a new city, before the traffic gets going and put on your shoes and just run?
You lose the agenda and tourist guides and just go exploring-you develop a sense of sites, sounds and flavours of a city. You also see corners that you likely never would have ventured down if it weren’t for running.
Running has given me an excuse to travel. I’ve run all across Europe, in France, Switzterland, I’m heading to Japan in May, I’ve been to Nigeria, run in Morocco, I’ve run in China and that says nothing about my runs around the country and in the US.
Most importantly, it’s allowed me to understand myself.
Generally, if I were to summarize it, I guess I run because of the simplicity of the sport, the places my feet have taken me and where they might lead next, but more specifically, I run because of a pure curiosity about myself.
Some people may consider this selfish and even I question it at times, but at the end of the day, I simply love running and it’s a choice I make.
It’s amazing how powerful it is to consider our decisions as choices.
I’m often asked how I balance law school, or articling with my running, and then people tend to ask, or talk about the sacrifices I make, but I really don’t see it that way.
The only answer that I can think of is that, it’s a choice I’ve made. Taking ownership of it that way is incredibly empowering.
Not all choices are good ones …
and some are better than others, but at the end of the day, at the end of a run, or at the end of a race-I can look back on the decisions I’ve made and live with the consequences, because I’ve taken ownership of my choices.
Anyway, because this is a film festival and we’re all here to watch video clips, I want to start by showing you a video of me running through the Chilcotin mountains in 2010.
[play video]
I want to thank Brian Goldstone and Angela Percival, from Arc’teryx, for putting that together.
That was an interesting run-
2010 was my first year of ultra running and only a couple weeks before, I dropped out of a race because of a back injury. I was questioning what I was doing with sport.
I’d toyed with the idea of racing an ultra for a long time, but frankly, I was sacred. I’d run marathons, raced triathlons and done an Ironman and they all hurt-I couldn’t imagine how bad it would hurt to run and race for even longer.
Anyway, we had planned to run 30 or 40kms that day, a solid run, but nothing that scared me too much, but as we were flying in, we had to change plans due to the conditions. I had 3 or 4 gels with me and maybe a half litre of water. I did have Brian and Angela following me on bikes, but they had to lug these huge rigs, along with their packs through the mountains, so I’m not sure how much help they would be out on the trail.
When the plane landed, in a an unknown to me spot, we roughly mapped out a route and I just started running. We’d run towards things that looked interesting. I had no idea how long I’d be out there, or where I was going, but it was beautiful and I enjoyed every single step of the way.
I ended up running for almost 8.5 hours that day, running up and down peaks, along scree slopes. and following rivers.
It was my longest run to that point by almost 3.5 hours and I never really got hungry or thirsty. I was a bit tired by the end, but it was an incredible day. It was as if the surroundings and were feeding me and I felt stronger and stronger all day.
I was incredibly inspired by it all and that drove me.
I was super fit at the time and had had some race success, but that run changed my perspective of what I was capable of doing and it really sold me on my love of long runs in the mountains.
It really struck a cord with me. It was the culmination of searching for the right sport through years of training.
I had been a x-country skier, a triathlete, a duathlete, a marathon runner, but after that run, I felt like I had finally found my niche. I wanted to be an ultra runner, more specifically, I wanted to run mountain ultras.
It’s funny to think of one run as being such a crux, but it really was. Since that I’ve run, I’ve taken a lot of the lessons that I learned that day and applied them to by general approach to running-and I’ve never enjoyed sport more.
So what did I learn on that run?
1) Plans are over-rated
Coaches may hate me for saying this, but fixating on plans simply doesn’t work for ultra distance racing.
Don’t get me wrong, if you want to be successful, you have to have no doubts about where you want to go and be clear with your goals, and you definitely have to have an idea of how you think you'll best get there, preferably written down or mapped out in your mind, but in almost every race you end up having to deal with Plan B, C or even plan X. You have to learn how to be adaptable.
If you have a plan A sort of day, you’ll have a great race no matter what you do. What we actually train for are the 99% of races, or runs, which aren’t Plan A days.
As an example, last summer, I raced the CCC, a 98km mountain race around Mont Blanc, in Chamonix France. It attracts some of the top European runners and I’d trained hard for it. I knew the route and I had planned my day around it and I’d focused my previous three months on having a great day there..
As we were standing on the startline, they announced, in French, that they had to change the route due to inclement weather and a nasty rock slide up one of the passes.
They took out an entire mountain from the race and, instead, they sent us deep into a valley. We ran along a highway for a bit, and it was steep, hot and frankly, quite ugly.
That change and section of trail really affected people. It threw a huge wrench into their plan and they ended up not being able to cope with it. Not only did they have the biggest drop out race ever at the event, but a lot of great runners had very average races. They couldn’t cope.
As with any outdoor activity, you’re always at the mercy of the weather and it’s up to you to deal with it.
Racing ultimately comes down to problem solving on the fly and who can deal with the ups and downs-over the course of 2, 5, 8, 20 hours of running, you have to adapt your plans.
The same thing applies to training plans. Having a training plan is a great idea and I encourage it, but at the end of the day, a training plan is just a best guess. Some of them are more informed than others, but they’re still guesses.
How can a coach or advisor really know how you’re going to feel, or react to certain stimulus and stresses? We all live complex lives, even pro athletes who have all day to train and recover and we are all very individual.
The best athletes and coaches adapt their plans daily and that may even mean adapting as you’re running.
In order to do this in a way that really benefits you, you absolutely have to know yourself as an athlete and you have to know what your goals are.
2) Know Thyself
As I said earlier, it’s great to have a goal, but in order to reach that goal you have to focus on the way to get there.
I would conservatively say that I’ve averaged 10 runs a week for the past 5 years, so say 2,600 runs. In that time, I’ve probably races less than 50 times. Racing is only a small fraction of my actual time running.
What I’m getting at is that I don’t run just to do well at races, or even because of races. If I only ran to race, then I’m not sure that I would log as many miles as I do, I’d simply just do as many races as I could and that doesn’t interest me at all.
What interests me is figuring out what I need to do to be the best runner that I can be, given my life choices.
I’m very competitive and racing is what I use to focus me. It’s my test to see if I’m applying myself properly. I want to show up on the startline of a goal race knowing that I’m as ready as I can be.
I currently work with Jonathan Brown, who finished 4th at the Sydney & Athens Olympics in the marathon. He’s been an incredible help and his knowledge, experience and low key, hard work approach to training have been invaluable.
I train following a general outline, with the basic notion being train as much and as hard as I can, given everything that’s going on in my life.
I try to get in one harder workout, one tempo run and one longer run a week-but I go largely on feel.
If I feel good, I go hard, if I feel rough and have a workout scheduled for that day, I’ll either change the workout, change my expectations, or do the workout on a different day.
If I get a session wrong, or I’m too tired to do it, I think what I might have done differently, but I don’t dwell on it, I move on.
I’m not an analytical person, I’m very much an emotion/language based thinker, so that’s how I train.
Some people love numbers and statistics, they actually overwhelm me. I get caught up in them and I get competitive with them. I absolutely want to see a round number, so I might go and do an evening jog of 30 minutes on Sunday, just to make sure that I got in 120 miles that week. This is a ridiculous way to think. Maybe 118 miles would have cut it, or maybe I could have done 123 or more miles. I find numbers artificially limiting.
I also find that, with mountain running, because you don’t fix into a pace. A real focus on pace times is a waste of time, it’s all about effort. You’re never sticking to a set pace out on the trail.
Instead, I really try to focus on having a memory bank of thoughts, cues and emotions to draw on on race day.
Because of that I’ll do some workouts that may not make sense-for instance, I’ve done 100*35 seconds hard/25 seconds easy-or I’ve headed out for a 2.5 hour run on smashed legs and stayed for four or more hours, with almost no food or water, just because it felt right.
You can’t go wrong in training for an ultra if you switch things up. Over the course of 50 or 100 mountain miles, you’re hiking sections, your’re bombing downhill at other times , you’re running a tempo pace—getting a sense of what you’re body can do at a variety of paces is invaluable.
I try to get a sense of what it feels like to run a given pace, what are my thoughts, what does my body do? When do I need to hike, when can I run harder?
Basically, the training allows you to show up at the start line, competent to handle the challenges of an unpredictable day.
It’s easy to be confident, but confidence is often masked by dilusion. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, training with and getting to know some of Canada’s top endurance athletes and they’re not all confident, what they do all have is an incredible drive to be competent.
They become competent through years of racing and hard training, yes, they have genetic talent, but a lot of talented athletes never become competent.
I like to think of it as a video game. You go around collecting talisman’s and other little bobbles, like mushrooms, and you store them in your pouch. You may never use them, but you know that they are there if and when you get tested.
It’s your competence, you’re bag of tricks that actually allows you to get the most out of yourself.
Spending the time really listening to myself, while pushing the limits of what I can do in training has really changed my perspective and it’s improved my racing. I used to be quite anxious at the start line and while I still get butterflies, I’m rarely anxious when I feel competent.
I hate to say this to people that are new to the sport, but endurance takes a bloody long time to develop. This isn’t something that’s happened over the past 2-3 months, I’ve been doing endurance sports for a long time, but it’s only recently that I’ve really taken ownership of my training.
That said, I’m not sure if the results would have been the same without my previous experiences.
I started “training in high school” and then I moved out to Victoria to train with the National Triathlon Centre. I did that for 5 years, before I ditched the speedo and simplified my life and focused on being a runner.
Over that time, I’ve sought out some of the best coaches and training partners I could. My first mountain race was the Jungfrau marathon in Switzerland, it was the world mountain running championships and although I’d run a 2:29 marathon in my first marathon earlier that year, I had no idea how to run a mountain marathon, so I sought out the World Mountain Running champion, Jonathan Wyatt and sent him an email over his blog, asking him how he trains.
He was doing the same race and he ended up writing me a training plan for the race. It’s mostly a testatment to Jono’s great personality, but it shows that curiosity and a willingness to seek help pays off.
As I’ve moved into longer and longer runs, I’ll examine the blogs and training logs of some of the top runners and although they aren’t always reliable, I mean it’s a blog, of course people lie on them, I’ve picked out a few themes.
-the training is incredibly simple
-they all run a lot
-they are consistent
-they get strength from hills
-speed work is HIGHLY overrated
-they just love being outside
I’ve adapted those themes to fit my training.
As I said earlier though, it’s a slow process.
My first year just running, I was averaging 10 hours of running a week, gradually, over the next 5 years, I’ve slowly increased that to the point where I’m now regularly running over 20 hours a week. I’ve gotten stronger over that time, but because I progressed slowly, I haven’t had any significant injuries, or time off from running, so I’ve been able to build on my fitness.
It hasn’t be a conscious process, more, I’ve slowly figured out each year what I’m capable of. I push up against my limits, nudging them forward and my results have progressed at the same rate.
This process breaks down run by run.
I’ve started countless runs, tired and exhausted, but I head out and slowly, as I get going, I warm up and by the end of the run, I feel invigorated and fast. and I end up running further and faster than I thought I could when I first went out.
I’ve really learned to take these runs step by step and that’s how I approach ultra races.
If I were to sit back at the start of a race and think about the fact that I’m trying to hammer 50 miles against some of the best athletes in the world, it would probably be overwhelming.
Instead, I focus one step at a time, trying to make every step count.
I think about my form, I try to think about my emotions, my cues, I think about nutrition, I take in the world around me, I try to stay in the moment, while trying to move forward as fast as possible and, as I proceed, the miles start ticking away.
When I start to get distracted, or tired, I use a few tricks. For instance,. I count my steps. I start at 100 and count my way down…If I make it all the way through, I start again at 90 and so on. It’s a trick I heard Peter Reid, three-time Ironman Hawaii champion said he used and it works. By the time I get to 80 or so, I’ve forgotten about my fatigue.
Another trick I use is, if I feel good ---EAT---If I feel bad---EAT—the idea being that you’re fueling ties in directly with your energy levels and emotions.
It comes back to the power of choice. You can sit there feeling miserable about the task that you’re underatkaing and suffer for the next 2, 3 or 10 hours, or an accept what you’re asking your body to do.
It’s not easy, don’t get me wrong, a lot of those steps are painful. Your quads and back hurt, your gut is a mess from eating gels and drinking coke, but if you remember that it’s your choice to be out there, then you maintain some control over the situation and it becomes much more enjoyable
I’ve been told 2 great pieces of advice for ultra racing:
1)Just go fast so you can get the fucking thing over with—which is very good advice and
2) I was told before the CCC, my race in France, to just enjoy the day, by Peter Watson, who may be in the crowd tonight and he was right.
It’s amazing how much your perspective and mood can affect your performance, even through rough patches-so why not smile when things get tough, ultimately, we all run because we enjoy it!
Thank you very much-that’s my talk
I’d be happy to answer any questions now, or at intermition, or after the show if you’d like.

Week 3 Contest Submission

2012-02-19T19:50:00.000-08:00

Thanks to Jeff Norman for the video-FYI to anyone wanting to play, pandering, as Jeff clearly did in his submission, is encouraged!!!

Apart from a being a well dressed man, if his Twitter profile is spot on, Jeff is a hard man with a refined palate: "Master Taster and Global Brand Ambassador for Jack Daniel's Distillery"

February Contest--week 2 entries

2012-02-12T17:00:00.003-08:00

Here are the entries to week two of the Arc'teryx contest. I'm excited to see some international content, from one of my favourite Swiss towns, Wengen, as well as a race report and a local connection.

Thanks to those who contributed and please keep them coming

_________________________________________________________________
Trevor MacKenzie - Victoria, BC

Anyhow, I dabble in running, biking and adventure racing and have had some pretty fun adventures over the years. The Christmas of 2010 my extended family and I with wife Sarah and 3 year old son Ewan spent the break in Hawaai on the island of Maui. My father-in-law and I drove to the east side of the island to Hana, a remote town known for it's windy pavement, bamboo terrain, black sand beaches, and lagoons. When we arrived at our destination, a short 7k hike from the black sand shores up to the Waimoku Falls, my father-in-law and I were awestruck. He is an avid photographer and as we trekked the short path down to the water we both realized we would have to part ways - he to snap pics and I to get my cruise on. I spent the next 2 hours taking in the trail, chatting with fellow adventurous souls, and soaking in the pools under the falls. When we finally found each other we slowly descended back to our rental car sharing similar stories of discovering beauty along the trail - each form our own perspective and passion. Needless to say, the photos he took are awesome reminders of one fantastic run. They hang framed in our home calling for a return visit or for this story to be shared.
Enjoy!
Thanks Adam and keep doing what you do. Best of luck in your 2012 season!
Photo credit: my talented father-in-law Mr. Jeremy Tate.

Daniel Przybeck -- Wengen, Switzerland Jan 2012

Too much snow for running which turned into a snowshoe run with the dog.

Joe Huising
Here’s my entry for your monthly contest. It is my story of running 2011 Western States. It’s a bit long but hopefully it passes on the feeling of running a big race. Hope you enjoy.

Next month my story of a solo running of the Grand Canyon r2r2r.

Cheers,

Being at the start line of the Western States trail race is an amazing experience. It is dark and cool, the sky just starting to light up above the eastern mountains. Everyone is excited and wants to get going. The first four miles is up a maintenance road beside the Squaw Valley ski resort so there’s a steady incline to start the race. The horn goes off and the runners begin to run, jog, and walk, depending on where they are in the crowd. It’s going to be a long day so no need to get in a rush. Never get to see the lead guys as by the time it gets light they are way ahead.

Near the top of the mountain the trail narrows and everyone falls into a single file line. By this time the nerves have calmed down so each person just follows the person in front without complaint. The view of the mountains, Lake Tahoe, and the sun coming up are beautiful. As we come over the top, the trail is clear and we finally start running. It feels good but it doesn’t last long. Within about half a mile we get into the snow. This is messy with lots of traversing on old snow that has been melting and freezing. Glad I’ve got some good tread on my shoes. Those people wearing road shoes or shoes without aggressive tread are having a tough time. I pick up the pace through this section as most of the traversing is not any easier going slow so might as well rip across and hope for the best. I pass large groups of people through here. At one point I’m patiently following a runner, when behind me in a thick Norwegian accent I hear “you’re going too slow boys; you need to get some better shoes.” This makes me chuckle to myself. As the Norwegian passes I follow and continue to follow him through the snow.

After about seven miles of snow we start to hit sections of dry trail. These become longer and the snow sections smaller and smaller until the snow is gone for good. We’re on a nice easy slope down now and can move well. Just before Talbot aid station we get our first real creek crossing. The cold water feels good on the feet after all the side slope running.

I pass quickly through Talbot and head for Poppy. Nice easy road to just relax and cruise. Talk to a few runners and, find out later, one of those runners got his 1000miles/10days buckle. An impressive accomplishment. There are lots of first-time Western States runners and even runners doing their first 100 mile race.

After Poppy there’s some great single track on soft rolling trails along the reservoir. Surprised by the number of guys running up the hills. I keep gaining on them with my run down, walk up approach. After a couple of miles we come out of the trees and start heading up on exposed, dusty new trail. Not so pretty but getting close to Duncan Canyon. Make a mistake here and only fill up one water bottle. After I’m out of the station I figure out its 7.5 miles to the next station. Should have a little more water but it’ll be fine.

In the canyon there is some nice downhill running, a couple miles of pavement, half down and then half up. Again, can’t believe the people running up hill. A guy wearing a plaid shirt guy passes me for a second time. Weird, I think, as I’m sure he had passed me earlier. We keep going up, moving off the highway onto 4x4 roads with some great views of the valley. It’s a nice day and not too hot yet so still enjoying myself. I stop when I find a little snow and put it in my hat to stay as cool as possible. I know the heat is my weakness. The aid stations now have big buckets of water with sponges that helps but the cooling never lasts long.

When I arrive at Mosquito I’ve built up 40 minutes of a gap over the 24 hr finish time so I’m feeling good but also realising that it is not going to be easy to maintain that gap. After Mosquito we do a boring four mile loop that has been added to make up the distance we lost due to the snow route change. I make up some time on this section continuing my strategy of walking up the hills and cruising the downs. As I enter Millers Defeat I see a fellow Canadian, Wayne Gaudet. He’s heading out on the loop so is about four miles behind me. We say hi but are both focused on getting going so I don’t find out too much about how he’s doing.

I don’t realize this as I head out, but the next 12.5miles is basically downhill, losing about 1500-2000 feet in elevation. Not tough but hard to slow down as it just keeps falling. I’m hoping for a nice long uphill, unfortunately that’s about 15miles away. After Dusty Corners we get directed off the 4x4 trail onto a single track trail. The volunteer warns us that this is some of the most beautiful section of trail we will run. I don’t pay much attention but a little while later have to stop and walk to take in the views. We are high up on the side of a mountain looking down into a valley with raging rivers. It makes you forget about the race for a few minutes. The trail is soft and shady. Could run on this all day.

Next is Last Chance. I get a little excited as it’s only 12.5 miles until I get to see Karon, my crew. It’s always nice to see your support. I figure I can make up some time through this section. I mean how can 4.5 miles take the estimated 80 minutes? Out of the aid station the trail heads down and continues down. Again, I’m waiting for uphill but there seems to be only a lot of valley to descend into. Finally I get to the bottom, and there’s a small creek crossing. A couple of runners who have passed me are soaking themselves in the creek, including plaid shirt guy. Where did he come from again? Then, finally, the trail goes up. Steeply up! I’ve set my garmin to beep at each kilometre. It finally beeps after almost 25 minutes! Ok, now the 80minute estimate is making sense.

As you get close to the next aid station you can hear the cheering. It lifts my spirits and helps me pick up the pace. A runner named Jerry has been coming up this section with me. It’s nice to talk to someone on these uphills to pass the time. As we come into the station, Devil’s Thumb, we are greeted by a man dressed as the Devil. He shakes our hands and welcomes us. Another great station, but got to keep moving.

Off I go, downhill again, gradual at first but then back onto single track switchbacks. At one point I hit a rock and go down, doing my best to land softly but twisting my index finger. Of course I jump up quickly and then stop to make sure I’m ok. Finger is sore but basically injury free. Got to be careful, don’t want a fall to end my race. My legs are getting tired of these downhills, they just don’t stop. This section is about five miles and it loses almost a half mile of elevation. It’s getting warm too but I’m still having fun and feeling good. I’m continuing to build the gap between my estimated finish time and my 24 hour goal. This also helps to keep me positive. I know at some point things could go badly and having that extra time will give me a cushion I might need later. I pass a runner close to the bottom who is walking slowly and doesn’t look like he’s having fun. As I arrive at the aid station, first aid is heading out to check on him. The stations are so friendly but at this point I’m focused and friendly seems a bit annoying. I only ask to have one bottle filled up but the aid person thinks I should fill both. I want to tell him to piss off, but say no that’s ok and continue on. Of course trying to head the wrong way out of the station doesn’t make me look like I’m in good shape.

Start the next sectin heading up hill. I’m over 50miles and can now start to count down. This is a big mental game for me. I know it’s still along way but have to keep the happy thoughts. Only a couple of miles to Michigan bluff where I get to see Karon. It will only be for a minute but nice to see her after almost 12 hours. The climb is long and my right hip and IT band hurts on these long up hills. The pain goes away on the flats and downhills so I’m not too worried about it. Everything else feels pretty good, feet are in great shape. I won’t change shoes as, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it”.

Finally arrive in Michigan Bluff to cheers and Karon’s smiling face. She directs me to the chair. I don’t dare sit down. Change my bottles, buff, get a kiss and head out. Karon lets me know Gary, my pacer, will join me at Bath Road, 2 miles earlier than expected. This is nice to know and I look forward to having Gary along. It’s really warm out now and even though I soak my hat and buff in cold water it doesn’t take long for them to warm up and dry out. This section is not very interesting, just a road that has been pushed through by a dozer. I talk to a couple of runners and find out that one runner, Jeff, is doing the race without a pacer. Tough to do, but he’s done a few other 100 mile races so he knows what will come.

Still running at this point which is good although the slopes I’m walking up are getting less steep. Soon I’m coming into Bath Road. Some ass put a sign that the station is only a ¼ mile but it is closer to a mile. Oh well just keep going, still staying ahead of 24hrs. Pass through Bath Road and start heading up the road to Foresthill. People along the way cheer me on and I see Gary heading towards me. We start our long day together. It’s good to talk to him and hear about the racers ahead of me. We come into Foresthill, he directs me through the station to where Karon is with my gear. We make a quick change and take a picture. After, when i see the picture, I’m surprised at how reasonable I look. Karon says I looked a bit pale but that’s expected towards the end of the heat of the day. Good thing we got relatively mild weather. Another 5 degrees warmer and I might have had some real problems.

We head out of Foresthill, me trying to eat a sandwich that is not going down easy; chewing is always tough at this point, have to add lots of water. I’ve been on liquids for over 12hrs now. I’ve stuck very close to my fuel plan so should be good for calories and water. Weight has been staying the same at the medical stations. Running on the pavement is very hot but soon we get back on the trail and into the shade. Soon I’m wishing I’d got rid of my hat and sunglasses as we won’t see Karon for another 4hrs. We only took a small head lamp so we will race against the dark to get to Karon before we need some serious light.

Soon plaid shirt guy passes us again. This must be the fifth time. I comment on his pacing and he explains he’s keeps stopping to get sick. Wow what a long day for that. Every time he passes me he’s got a great pace and seems relaxed but then he’s off to get sick for a while. Glad it’s not me.

We continue on. As it cools off a little our pace quickens and I start to have more energy. Gary is enjoying himself, encouraging me on, taking pictures, talking to runners. The downhills are getting really tough but that’s expected. Soon we pass through Dardanelles and Peachstone. Some nice views and trails but I’m mostly focused internally and on the trail in front of me now. We are doing well and start talking about hitting the river before dark. It will be close but we’ll try. Of course it seems like every time we think we’re making good time we come around a corner to be faced with a long steep up hill. The long uphills shorter now but they still slow things down. I need about a minute at the top of each hill to walk and regain my breath before we start running again. I curse at Gary under my breath but he’s pushing me on. Without him I’d be walking alot more. We’re now through Ford’s Bar and heading to Rucky Chucky, the famed river crossing. It’s reasonably flat and it is pretty along the river so we keep hustling to beat the darkness. We can see the river crossing as we are running down the road. We’ll be there before dark, just before 9pm, 16hrs since the start.

The river crossing is smooth with so many volunteers to help. I was worried about sitting in the boat and getting up but they help us all the way. Gary is busy snapping pictures of everything. I guess this is sort of our Disneyland so it’s nice that he’s capturing it all. Of course from here on in it will be dark and there will be no more pictures until the finish line. After the river it is a two mile uphill climb to the station and Karon. Looking forward to seeing her again for a minute. It’s dark now and a bat flys at me, veering off at the last second. Wakes me up a bit.

At the station we find Karon has had a long walk downhill to get to the station with our gear and will have to hike back up the road in the dark to get out. She hates that stuff but won’t complain until later. I change shirts, get rid of my hat, get a better head lamp and we’re off. Gary is leading to make sure we stay on route and me following just focused on my footing and the trail in front of me. Things slow down as there’s nothing to look at any more. My legs are very stiff coming out of the station and it takes a while to get back to running. The trail is mostly nice single track, very runnable. Somewhere along the next 20 miles I end up kicking 2 rocks, one with each foot. “Didn’t need those toenails” i say to Gary. The next ten miles of trail is rolling and I run as much as I can but my strides are getting shorter and my pace slower. Downhills are hard on the legs and uphills are hard on the lungs. We’re both pretty quiet but still in good spirits. We can hear the aid stations as we come up to them. They’re like little bush parties. Music blasting, lots of lights. Gary takes a little time in each station to talk. I just keep moving.

At Auburn Lake, we get a warning about my weight; I’m down almost 2%. The medical guy doesn’t like Gary’s nonchalant attitude but I’m confident that I’m ok. Gary has been reminding me to eat every 10mins. We both have beat ourselves up before and know how we’ll feel. After the station I focus on eating more at each 10mins. Brown’s Bar is another big party and we’re warned the trail is technical after the station. This slows us down as I’m not as quick as usual at this point. I get Gary to add an electrolyte pill to my water as I’m starting to feel some cramping and don’t want this to be an issue. The downhills are too technical to run and the uphills running is not an option at this point. It seems to take forever to Hwy 49 as neither of us realised how long the uphill was to this station. I finally pee which at this point it a good sign. It’s pretty brown but I’m still feeling reasonable so nothing to worry about. Still in good spirits, we continue to make time on the 24hr and are now possibly able to break 22hrs. Finally we roll into the next aid station. Only 7.5 miles left.

We are focused on 22 hrs as we leave the station but a mean uphill doesn’t make us feel good. Once at the top we start to run on a flat rock-free trail. By this point my shuffle is likely about 12min miles but on the flats that’s great, hopefully we can just keep moving. Of course flats are uncommon on the course and we start heading down. Any kind of step down is difficult as it feels like my quads might just quit on one of these. We can see bridges and cars driving on a road so we must be close to No Hands Bridge. Finally we hear the music and we hurry to see the lights and a big screen showing past western states footage. Of course that’s what Gary tells me. I’ve got my head down and don’t even stop at the station, just head across the bridge. Gary catches up quickly up quickly after having a view of the aid station. He gets all the fun. As he catches me, he says for the millionth time “it’s flat, you’ve got to run.” I try and listen and slowly get up to my running speed which is really a fast shuffle but we’re racing the 22hr clock and every second counts. We run the flat trail and can see the next aid station up on the hill. Just when we think we know where the trail is going it goes off the main trail to the right. I think I see head lamps ahead. It’s a little frustrating as there seems to be a number of runners catching up to us now. We reach Robie and are told it’s a little bit uphill but only 1.3miles to the finish. Gary is telling me it’s flat and we should run but he’s being very liberal in his definition of flat so I keep walking as fast as I can. He is now trying to drag me with his will to get me there before 22 hrs. I’m trying but know it’s likely not going to happen and don’t really care if it’s five minutes later.

I laugh and yell at Gary as I see who is passing me again. Plaid shirt guy has returned and is going to beat me to the finish.

The group of runners is gone and it’s just Gary and me again. I’m hobbling as fast as I can. Finally we’re coming around the last corner to the track. We enter the track, running, sort of. Karon is there, taking a video of me. It is so exciting to finally be on the track. I’ve watched so many videos of people finishing this race and now it’s my turn. It is breathtaking as they announce my name and people cheer me to the line. Gary is beside me and I think he’s as excited as I am. We didn’t get in under 22hrs (3am) but I’m well under 24 hours so I’ll get my silver buckle.

We cross the line and everyone is there to help us. I get my medal, they weigh me, they sit me in a chair, give me water, take my blood pressure and my timing chip. Then I’m off to give a blood sample for their research. Then we lay on the grass. I feel sick, don’t want to drink any water. Gary sits down beside us, drinks a bottle of water, then turns away and pukes. Guess he was feeling a bit rough also. As usual I want to get away from the finish line before someone tries to put me in the medical tent.

At the hotel I shower and get into bed. Feeling like crap, I drink some water but then go puke everything up. Toss and turn until about 9am. At the awards I’m one of about 20 runners asked to talk to the doctor due to our elevated CPK numbers. I know this isn’t good but think it shows I left it all out there and gave my best effort. I’ll feel better in a few days and it was worth it for the buckle.

A need to run

2012-02-07T22:17:00.000-08:00

Running can feel like an obligation at times, especially when I'm preparing for a race, but there are other times, which happen much more frequently, when I'm overtaken by a simple desire to move. This short video reminded me that, as humans, we have an innate desire to move and explore our surroundings and running is a simple and perfect outlet to satisfy that need. This desire can push us to amazing feats, like running across Patagonia on an impulse, with little, or no run training as skier/mountaineer Cornelia Zamernik did last year. In her words:

"It became a spontaneous idea, with very little preparations. I decided to run across windy Patagonia, 168 kilometers (...) by myself, following the old Patagonian railway called La Trochita.(...) Running La Trochita by myself was a psychological and physical experiment. Moving by foot, running while being on my limit(...) I came home with a great experience, but very difficult to share with others who haven't been there."

El Cuentista - A different way from Jacob Slot on Vimeo.

___________________________

In unrelated news, I have an interview in the inaugural Trail Running Canada online magazine, at pages 23-25. Congrats to Jonathan for getting the magazine off the ground, not an easy feat and best of luck to him with it as he moves forward. I look forward to reading accounts of some of the great runs, races and runners from across Canada's muddy, rocky and snowy places in the pages of upcoming issues.

First Contest Entries

2012-02-05T20:10:00.000-08:00

The contest is off & running, here are this week's submissions. Thanks to those who contributed. The poll will be at the end of the month, so lots of time to get involved. As a reminder, the contest involves users (that means you) submitting a photo, film clip or story about your trail running adventures to seenontherun@gmail.com, along with a short description of what it's about, or what inspired you to capture that moment.
The most popular post will win some Arc'teryx run gear.
_______________________________________________________________________________________

Keith Iskiw

This is a video my wife did of my Haliburton 100 mile race when Glen Redpath showed up! I had great fun racing with him and Derrick Spafford and came a strong third place.

My lovely wife Jennifer filmed this video to show the ups and downs of the 100 miler and to give a view of this awesome race that is part of the OUSER series in Ontario.

Haliburton 100 Miler...The Year of The Fu... from Keith Iskiw on Vimeo.

_______________________________________________________________________________________
Jonathan Schmidt of Trail Running Canada
Here's a little video I made about trail running in Lethbridge, Alberta. My lunch hours consist of hammering out some hills in the coulees around here. It has sort of a prairie beauty with little vegetation, but some nice elevation and contours. I have come to love it. I don't have the copyright to the audio, but thought it went well and gave credit on the youtube page. Eventually this footage is going to be worked into something bigger, but for now this is fun.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Michael Whitehead
This was taken after a 13 mile trail run on some mountain biking trails outside of Charlotte, NC. Most people would shy away from trails after three days of straight rain, but my dad and I had a blast slipping and sliding down the trail. This inspired a new rule for measuring the quality of a run: At the beginning of a run, check the color of your shoes, at the end of your run, do the same -if they match, keep running; if they don't, Congratulations, you have just had a successful run!

_______________________________________________________________________________________
M. Austin Whitehead

These are before and after photos from a Warrior Dash race in Ohio during the spring of 2011. In this specific event trail running was merged with trail crawling, climbing and diving. The kicker? Being fined $192.00 a piece for jumping in a lake in the state park we were camping at. Turns out it was a "non-designated swimming area." Funny, we thought the fact that there was water there designated it as a swimming area. The Park Ranger did not share our sense of humor, but all-in-all it was a fun, albeit expensive, weekend.

News & Contest

2012-02-01T20:13:00.000-08:00

(keep reading contest details at the end)

I've been asked to be a presenter at the 15th Vancouver International Mountain Film Festival, which runs from February 10-18, 2012. I'll be presenting alongside Rich Wheater, author of Vancouver Trail Running, a great resource for everyone who likes to go exploring. I've used his book to link up a few sections of trail to make for some fun long runs.

We are both speaking at the first VIMFF Trail Running Night Thursday, February 16, 7:30 pm (doors 7:00 pm) at Pacific Cinematheque, 1131 Howe Street, Vancouver-- tickets available here.

The Straight did a profile of Rich and of the talk this week

My Talk is entitled An Ultra State of Mind. I am honoured to be presenting alongside amazing people and athletes and to be involved with the festival. It's a celebration of mountain life, culture and sport and is a wonderful event in the Vancouver calendar. I've been attending, and have been inspired by, mountain film festivals for as long as I've lived in Canada and they've had a deep influence on my world view.

I'm really looking forward to watching the films associated with the trail running night, it's a testament to the growth and current state of the sport that they are hosting trail running films and speakers, something I wrote about for iRunFar last week and is going to be a lot of fun. I'll admit that, like many people, I'm a bit nervous/uncomfortable public speaking, but it's an amazing opportunity and one that I look forward to embracing. I'm also really looking forward to watching a few of the other nights and being inspired by the art, activisim and athleticism that the speakers and films encompass.

Here's the trailer from last year's festival to give you an idea of what you can see at VIMFF:

_____________________________________________________________
Now for the contest!!!!

I'm excited to announce that Arc'teryx has generously offered to sponsor a contest through my blog. Once a month, for the next year, Arc'teryx will donate a piece of gear from their run line to a lucky winner.

The contest involves users (that means you) submitting a photo, film clip or story about your trail running adventures to seenontherun@gmail.com, along with a short description of what it's about, or what inspired you to capture that moment.

I will post the submissions on my blog and then you, the readers, will be able to vote on your favourite submissions at the end of each month. The winner, by vote, will win the Arc'teryx item. At the end of the year, I'll host a Grand Prize where you can vote for each of the monthly winners and pick your favourite submission from 2012.

The only other rule is to be as creative, unique, fun and inspiring as possible!!!! You can submit as often as you want.

This month's prize is a Motus Crew LS , my go to long sleeved running top, so start those submissions coming-I'm excited to see what you're all up to:

He said what?

2012-01-29T21:48:00.000-08:00

"Goodbye", "hello", "I'm leaving", "I'm coming home", "I can do this", "It's too hard", "I love you", "Fuck off", "This isn't working out", "I'm weak", "I'm strong", "I'm sorry", I'm right", "I'm fast", "I love hills", etc...

I'm always amazed at the impact that words can have. A few simple utterances, whether intentional, misplaced or thoughtless, can have an irrevocable effect on our life. They affect our interactions by communicating our thoughts, feelings, emotions, plans, perceptions and intentions to the outside world. They also determine how people perceive us, and, more notably, how we perceive ourselves.
I often find the language that I'm using reflects my mood. I use more positive and empowering language when I'm upbeat and people respond in kind, which further brightens my mood and I tend to drift towards more negative words as my mood slides. This is a bit of a slippery slope, because that same language also has the effect of bringing me down further.
Granted, words alone are an imperfect vehicle for communicating. They can become obsolete, or suddenly emerge, they can convey a broad meaning, have multiple definitions, they are highly context dependent, they also lack nuance and subtlety, which is why we rely on body language, previous experience, location etc... to help fill in the blanks when we are talking. Still, above almost anything else, words are how we project ourselves to the world, so if you care about how the world views you, or, more importantly, how you view yourself, choose your words carefully.

Although I'm far from a Buddhist, I recently came across this interesting article by Daniel Goelman: Sitting Quietly, Doing Something It's about Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche, the Tibetan lama who has been dubbed “the happiest man in the world.” According to the article, he developed his sense of well-being through, hours of meditation, or, deliberate practice. There was an interesting line in the article, which caught my attention: "All this seems to confirm the idea that in the realm of positive moods, as in nearly every endeavor, worldly or spiritual, practice matters." Basically, happiness can be taught and has to be practiced.
The more I venture into the world of long runs and ultra-races, the more I understand the importance of mood and attitude on success in the endeavour. Although the analogy is often overplayed, long runs really are journeys and they have a significant meditative impact on participants. The journey extends well beyond the beautiful places that my feet take me and becomes very much a journey of self-discovery. Through these runs, I confront fatigue, hunger, thirst, pain, happiness, emotional swings etc... and where my threshold for each lies on a given day. Yes, it's all self-inflicted and somewhat contrived, but that doesn't make any of it less real in the moment. One way that I've learned to influence the journey is through language. Some people are more analytical and mathematical in their approach to life and running. They can create mental maps through pace times, distance, altitude, mileage, calories etc... they thrive on statistics. I don't work that way. I've always relied on the power of words, stories and emotions to frame my world. They are what make sense to me and are how I understand everything around me.
In understanding how I process things, I can create coping mechanisms, which allow me to accept and ultimately appreciate challenges. The deliberate use of language when I'm running is a very important to me. Sometimes I'll swear at myself, other times I'll be empowering and congratulatory, I'll use word cues to trigger run form ideas, or to remind myself to eat and drink, it all depends on what I need to keep myself moving forward as fast as possible. I'm also aware enough of the impact that language has on me, that I use it to monitor my physical state. When I start to get too negative with my mental self-talk, then I know that I'm probably running low on calories, so I try to fuel up, I also use it as an empowering opportunity to start using powerful and motivating language again. It almost always works and I quickly find myself running out of a hole.
I've always raced best when I'm happy and enjoying the experience, no matter how physically or mentally demanding the task. Since language can help influence my mood, it can definitely enhance my racing experience. So like the Tibetan lama, understand, cultivate and nurture your racing moods through deliberate practice. I do it through language, what drives you?

This pudding has no theme

2012-01-25T17:48:00.000-08:00

Winston Churchill once famously rejected a desert saying, as he pushed it away, "This pudding has no theme." Much like Sir Churchill, who I’m sure ate his fair share of pudding over the years (along with a few other vices), I find that the longer I’ve been in sport, the more important it is for me to create themes for myself at and around races, or I tend to push them away.

In order to end up with a tasty pudding that Churchill would gladly eat, the chef has to have a vision of the end taste, texture and presentation in mind. To do do this, he has to know what ingredients he needs, know how to source those ingredients, how to combine them in their proper doses, how to prepare them and ultimately, how and when to serve the end desert.

I get great pleasure from running and racing, but like pudding, it can be bland, or get a bit stale at times, so I have to look for ways to add colour and flavour to the process to keep myself motivated and enjoying it. If the race, starting with my preparation, lacks an overarching theme, then I either tend to not race, or end up with a result that I'm not satisfied with.

Whenever you hear tales of a great sports team, a successful businessperson, like Steve Jobs, or a great leader like Churchill, much of the discussion centres around the culture that they create. It is this culture that people rally around, it’s what helps them to deal with adversity and tough times and pushes them to greatness. In endurance sport, unless you are training in a major hub, or are part of a club, or a team, it’s harder to create a culture. Because I prepare largely by myself, I have to replace culture with themes. It’s a process that works for anyone, or any group, ready to undertake a big challenge.

I’ve talked before about the importance for me of creating a narrative for myself as I’m preparing for a race, but taking a step back from that, I select races that motivate me. I have a look at the race menu and pick one that looks appetizing, or I search one out with certain characteristics. This is where the theme starts. Sometimes it’s the competition, other times it’s the venue and, occasionally, it’s both that whet my competitive pallet. Once I know what the race is going to be and what my motivation for doing it is, I pick my theme and I base my preparation around that theme. It’s not really a conscious process, but it’s one that I find myself repeating.

If the race is flat and fast, then that’s what my theme is and I try to focus my attention on those aspects of my training. I spend more time trying to think and act like a fast runner. I venture to the track, I read blog posts about Kenyans, I wear track pants and tights and watch famous track races. In my mind, I become fast. I'm sourcing, preparing and combining the ingredients

If the race is more mountainous and grueling, then that becomes my theme and I focus more on spending time on my legs and toughening up. I think about what I'll need to have an enjoyable end product and go from there. I head to the hills on my runs, the more rugged the better. I also gravitate towards images and tales of mountains and find myself reading mountaineering and adventure books. Since I'm on the topic, I even go so far as to start eating foods from the country, or place, that I’ll be racing, like cheese from the Savoie region, or Himalayan/Tibetan meals. I try to become a mountain man, respectful of my surroundings, but ready to face the elements.

If this all sounds a lot like play, you are correct. This is how I add flavour and colour to the pudding that the race represents. Without the themes, the training and ultimately, the race, is bland and unoriginal and the final pudding is easy to forget, or reject. With themes, it comes alive with aromas and taste and, ultimately, is much more palatable and enjoyable

To carry this analogy one step further, don’t forget the main principle that this is all based around "If you don't eat your meat, you can't have any pudding, how can you have any pudding if you don't eat your meat?!" from Pink Floyd’s Another Brick in the Wall. The meat in this case is the day in and day out training and the pudding is the race. The pudding always comes after the meat. Add flavour all you want to the pudding, but it is the meat that ultimately sustains you (vegans/vegetarians may disagree, but I thought the lyric was appropriate).

Fiction Friday, from the BC Ferry

2012-01-21T09:32:00.000-08:00

The boy stomped his way along the beach, kicking shells as he went. He could hear the sand crunching under his feet. Combined with the crashing of waves, he found it to be a jarring timber. His stride was stiff and forced and he could feel his anger welling up inside of him, when he noticed a pile of driftwood to his left.

He reached into the pile and grabbed the biggest stick that he could find. It was almost two thumb widths wide and came up to his chest. It had a curve to it at one end. Looking at it, he got the impression that it used to be straight, but time had forced its spine forward. The bark looked coarse, almost flaky in spots, but it felt soft and subtle against the flesh of his hand. Despite its brittle exterior, he could tell that it was a hardwood, with a solid core. Its musty smell was a strange, but pleasant combination of forest floor and the ocean. The tips of the stick were rounded and a wisp of moss adorned one end. He knew that it was a good stick.

His mind suddenly flashed back and the anger grabbed hold of him again. Ignoring the stick, he felt a sudden urge to lash out, so he arched his body and brought the stick up behind him with both arms. He let out a violent breath, more like a scream than a sustaining force and swung the stick forward with all his mite. It pendulumed around his torquing body, cutting sharply through the air.

At that exact moment, his bare feet, which he had planted firmly in the sand to improve his purchase, slipped on a piece of slimy kelp and he felt himself falling forward. As his feet and torso fought against gravity, the stick changed its course and planted itself firmly in the wet ground, allowing him to stabilize himself.

He stood there stunned for a moment, his pulse was racing and he looked at the stick, now firmly planted in sand, which had saved him from his fall. The bits of moss at the end were flowing in the gentle breeze. He didn’t understand how it had ended up there, the trajectory didn’t really make sense, but he was thankful that it had and he cracked a small smile.

His emotions didn’t allow him to dwell on the strange happening for too long though, he still needed to vent. He felt the wood against the palm of his right hand and he began to apply downward pressure on the stick. He used so much force that he could feel the bark leaving a striated mark in the flesh of his hand and he started to move the stick. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t draw the stick across his body; instead, he found himself pulling it towards him. The stick left a trailing imprint in the sand, parallel to his feet. He didn’t understand what had happened, it was as if the stick didn’t want to go where he was telling to go. He moved his feet and tried a few more times, but each time, the stick wouldn’t move across the front of his feet and each time, he found himself straddling the line.

He pulled the stick out of the sand, lifted it closer to his face and twirled it around, inspecting it closely. Each of the lines along the stick seemed to tell a story. Although he didn’t know what they said, he got a sense that he understood them. Despite knowing better, he got the impression that the stick was wise and had been held by many hands. After looking at it closely for a few minutes, he realized that he had forgotten his previous anger and instead, he was enveloped in a sense of calm.

He walked up to the water’s edge and placed the stick down gently and took a step back. A seagull perched itself on a stump beside him and watched him with great curiosity. It let out an approving caw. He could see a small, rolling wave moving slowly from out in the ocean towards the shore. It broke about four feet away from him and reached out with its white water. As it receded, it grabbed at the stick and pulled it back, reclaiming it. He strained to his neck, trying to follow it, but the stick was gone. He stood there for a few minutes, admiring the view and then slowly turned and continued to make his way lightly along the beach.

It's not all night running

2012-01-15T21:03:00.000-08:00

Lunch break truth in fiction--

2012-01-13T16:14:00.001-08:00

I've been a bit slammed this week and feeling on edge, the writing has not been flowing, so here's my 15 minutes of fiction, written as I waited for my pulled pork salad to arrive (oh yeah, this is not my office-we don't have cubicles, nor do we have managers, I was picturing the "Office" when I wrote it, with a slightly more tense setting).

“It’s 3:47 for crying out loud” she shrieked
“Quiet, you’ll send everyone into a panic” the more rational voice responded.
“Did you get a paycheck slip today?” the shrieking voice responded, apparently forgetting her previous sense of panic about the time.
“Yeah, I actually got four” she answered calmly. “The holiday backlog is finally catching up.”
At that moment, the manager walked into the hall and the floating voices over the cubicles quieted.
“Did I hear a complaint?” He threatened sarcastically. “If anyone of you has something to say about the time, why don’t you come to my office and we can discuss it.” With his authority stamped, he power walked his way down the row of desks.
He had the look of someone who considered themselves naturally athletic, but who was more likely to pull his hamstring, or hurt his back if he were to move swiftly. His dirty blonde hair was well maintained, but was starting to thin and his suit was obviously expensive, but someone with a sartorial eye would notice that he didn’t wear it well. His white, tie less, shirt was loose at the top, but pulled tight around his slightly expanding belly. The shoulder pads of his jacket were a half inch too wide and he moved stiffly in it, his reach restricted by an ambitious fit. His brown, polished, shoes had bright red shoelaces, a desperate plea to draw the eyes to them.
When he was out of sight, a voice commented “Douche Bag!” audibly enough for everyone to hear, but in a tonne that suggested she felt an element of risk of him overhearing her. It was an irrational fear, since he was long gone, but it’s one that overcomes anyone who says something publicly that they probably shouldn’t.
A few of the girls laughed and snickered. They had all suffered under his glare and wandering eyes and felt the same way.
“Crap it’s 4:00 o’clock” the shreiker noted with more panic in her voice.
“I can’t wait for this day to be done and to go home and get drunk” she sounded desperate this time.
“Yeah, I hear ya” a third voice responded.
Okay, let’s just put our heads down and plug away at this so we can get out of here by 5” the rational girl interjected, with a hint of superiority in her voice.
“Man, I hate Fridays” he thought to himself, as he sat there overhearing all this, daydreaming about the adventures that he’d get up to that weekend.

Night run up & down the mountain-(where you can find me after work)

2012-01-10T21:22:00.000-08:00

15 min of fiction #3

2012-01-08T19:38:00.001-08:00

Attempt number 3 at some creative writing. I'm trying to let it flow a bit more and venture off into something less predictable than running. So voila:

“Did he have a shaved head? I mean like completely shaved, or just short?”

“Short” the average looking girl answered.

He couldn’t help himself, he had planned to use these few hours working, but he kept getting drawn in by the conversation behind him. The girls were speaking at a level which begged to be heard by strangers, so he obliged.
“Eavesdropping is a perverse pleasure that we all indulge in” he reasoned. “It’s probably biological”, he continued. It’s always easier to rationalize our choices with pseudo-science.

“Was he the one who wasn’t all that hot? I’ve never slept with someone who wasn’t hot. Well, there was that one guy, the chef, but he wasn't actually that bad looking.” the girl with the green shirt covered with a short grey sweater and multi-coloured scarf answered and commented almost simultaneously.

He knew the sort of girl she was, insecure and selfish. She was afraid of silence and her talk was more like a stream of consciousnesses than a conversation with a friend. It's why she was hanging out with an average looking girl he realized.
She wasn't unattractive, but she went up one point on his ranking scale by virtue of being beside an average girl and he knew that she knew it. It's what his high school friends called a 'hotness optical illusion.' "It's a classic move" he thought. It's also why you always have to separate a girl from the herd of her friends. It provides the proper context to assess her true looks.

Despite knowing nothing about her, apart from the snippet of conversation that he’d overheard the past fifteen minutes, he felt sorry for her, but he also couldn’t stand her.

“The one guy that I dated who was hideous, was so nice, but he was hideous” She continued, contradicting herself. She then segued into an almost incoherent monologue.

“Do you know the Merritt festival?” she asked to her friend, but it was thrown out there to anyone willing to listen. “I went with my two step sisters, my real sister, my step mom and my step aunt about two years ago. The last night I stayed in their motor home. The next morning, I’m waiting for some guys to drive me down the hill because there was a mud slide and I’m standing there, and this big green monster truck drove up."

He couldn't believe the crap she was spewing. But he missed something, so his attention shot back to the girls.

"...and he had a beautiful face—I mean, think back and he was just beautiful. I think about it now and he was just…so beautiful…”she repeated. “I was wearing green shorts that said “Bad Girl” on the back. He stopped and asked if I needed a hand, or a ride. I totally wanted to, because I wanted to be with him for a few minutes. So I told him ‘Let me just call someone with your license plates’, because I don’t want to get into a strangers' truck and get raped. So I’m about to get into the back and I see some guy. I’m totally surprised, but the hot guy tells me: “He’s just a Frenchmen, he’s harmless.” I’ve been partying all night, I was totally hung over, I think I puked the night before; I was just a total mess. All I could think was “they are going to rape me, they’re going to rape.” But I got in and the guy was being all creepy, but then the hot guy told him to back the fuck off. He was so hot.”

He couldn’t believe it. He wanted to reach around and grab her and tell her to take a breath, or tell her that no one cared. But he didn’t. He kept sipping his stale, by now lukewarm coffee, which he masked with two sugars and a creamo. He wanted to hear how the story ended. His work could wait.

2011, the year of the running video

2012-01-04T22:55:00.000-08:00

2011 was definitely the year when the trail running video came of age. Salomon Running has continued to put out great clips, like this year end video:

Joel Wolpert at Running Times did nice videos of Geoff Roes and Anton Krupicka and Arc'teryx put one out of me running earlier this year. Apparently, and luckily, they haven't stopped coming. I just saw this most recent clip by Asics of Emmanuel Gault who beat me at the CCC, which he won convincingly. I had a chance to talk with him briefly after the race and, unsurprisingly, he was all class. He was a tough competitor on the trail and a gracious, yet proud winner of the event. It's been a recurring theme with most of the runners I've been fortunate to meet and compete against on the trails.
It was great to see a clip of him going after it in a beautiful setting. It inspired me to go for a run in treacherous conditions tonight, which is about as much as you can ask of any running video, so big kudos to them for putting it out. The variety and quality of the videos this year have been top notch and it's a great step forward for the sport. I haven't seen Unbreakable yet, but enthusiasm and the online comments that I've read have all been positive-clearly people in the sport were hungry for and appreciate all of the efforts of the filmmakers & those involved in their production-so thanks to them for their hard work. I look forward to more in 2012.

In non-running, I also just saw these two amazing videos. Water and mountain sport/adventure videos have inspired me for years and the art form is thriving. Lightweight gear, skilled talent and unique global settings combine to show off the culture of the sport and of the places these modern day adventurers trek to. Since my evening run combined the ocean (where I started), a summit (where I ventured), heavy rain, river crossings, ice, snow and howling winds, these two clips are highly appropriate:

Water:

Antandroy from Band-Originale on Vimeo.

Snow & Ice:

Argentina: A Skier's Journey EP3 [Season 2] from Jordan Manley Photography on Vimeo.

Truth in Fiction 2

2012-01-03T21:16:00.000-08:00

Who is the third who walks always beside you?
When I count, there are only you and I together
But When I look ahead up the white road
There is always another one walking beside you
-T.S. Eliot, "The Wasteland"

John knows he's alone, he almost always runs alone in remote corners, yet he can't shake the feeling of someone following him. The feeling overcomes all his senses to the point that he swears he can hear footsteps behind him, they get louder. He glances over his shoulder and he thinks he sees something moving, so he takes a longer look. He's certain he'll see another runner charging up the trail, ready to overtake him with ease, but no one's there.
It's not the first time he's felt this ghost runner. On days when he's feeling strong, the ghost runner acts as a totem, showing him the way to run. His posture is tall and confident, yet relaxed. His stride is powerful, but quick and he glides along, coaxing John to follow at the perfect rhythm and tempo. Tap, tap, tap... In those moments, the ghost runner feels almost compassionate at the effort John is trying to put out and tries everything in its power to help make his task easier.
Other times, when John is distracted, or tired, the ghost runner chases him. The ghost becomes all of John's fears, insecurities and anxieties and he prods him along. It's never comfortable, and, as is the case on this evening's run, John keeps glancing over his slumped shoulder. His movement feels awkward, his stride, heavy and laboured. He knows it's irrational, but it still scares him.He doesn't want the ghost to pass him, but he feels that it could happen at any moment.
The only way for John to escape this sisyphean torment is to try and calm his thoughts, which have begun to run wild. He searches for that calm that only running can bring. He suddenly notices that the sky has turned a dark, dirty blue, it's so dirty it borders on grey. It's the colour of impending rain at dusk. John cracks a smile at the subtle details in his surroundings that he gets to experience daily. He realizes that the footsteps are no longer following him, instead, they run shoulder to shoulder, true companions once again.

Truth in Fiction

2012-01-02T23:03:00.000-08:00

I've been meaning to work on my creative writing skills for a while, but I spend so much time working on my analytical writing, that I often lose interest come evening. So I'm going to try and commit to writing for a minimum of 10 minutes a night 3 to 5 nights a week to practice. I guess it's my resolution for 2012. Who knows, my jumbled thoughts might make for an interesting read or two. They may even link into an occasional story, but I have no real agenda with it other than to hold myself publicly accountable on the blog.

Entry 1:
Trees surround him like columns, a shaft of light shines through the thick canopy, full of specks. It reminds him of a cathedral in Cordoba, Spain that he used to visit as a child. Funny place it was, full of contradiction and the physical embodied of centuries of religious power struggles. It was a pagan temple, then a Visigoth church that was turned into a mosque by the Moores and then reconverted into a Christian church. Not surprisingly, it's still controversial.
Despite being an atheist, religious analogies are the only way that he can verbalize how his runs through the forest make him feel. He is daydreaming and his eyes wander up to the roof of leaves.
"Shit!" he thinks, as a root seemingly reaches up out of the dirt and grabs at his right toe. He stumbles forward and feels his body go tense, preparing for a fall. He windmills his arms and catches himself. His heart rate has suddenly quickened and he feels incredibly alert, but also a bit embarrassed. Although he hasn't passed anyone for the past 20 minutes and he hardly ever sees anyone in this part of the mountain, he does a quick look around, certain that a group of hikers, or, worse, another runner, caught his moment of weakness.
"Pay attention" he chastises himself. He realizes that his right ankle is a bit sore and tight from the unexpected jerk. He focuses on it for a few steps, assessing the range of motion and level of discomfort. "It's alright" he thinks after five or six gingerly taken steps. He allows his full weight to land on the foot and his attention drifts from the feeling in his ankle back to driving himself quickly and silently along the trail.

2011-A Year in Review

2012-01-02T19:00:00.000-08:00

A bit of self-reflection every now & then is a healthy endeavour, too much and it turns into therapy. Although there is nothing wrong with therapy, I don't think I'm quite willing to tackle all my inner demons and afflictions just yet. I find my various insecurities useful to get me out the door and to keep me pushing myself in all aspects of my life. Regardless, looking back and evaluating is a useful stepping stone to moving forward, as George Santayana famously said: "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it" and as a self-professed 'striver' I'm more interested in what I have left to do than what I have done.

Here's a month by month summary of my 2011-I have also linked each month back to an archive on my blog for more context.

January
I started the year in Canberra, Australia where Lauren was training. I ran more in my month there than I ever had before. It redefined what was possible for me in terms of mileage and I was able to do some beautiful runs in some wild country.
I also got a chance to learn some new ideas on running form from Darren Smith, Lauren's coach at the time. The form ideas relate to rhythm, posture and applying force into the ground with each foot-strike. They've served me well this whole year.
I had my wisdom teeth out at the end of the month.

February
After years of thinking about it, I finally signed up for a 100-mile race, the inaugural Mt. Fuji 100 miler. It was a huge leap to convince myself to finally sign up. I knew that once I committed to the distance, that I was likely turning my back on
ever having success at shorter distance runs. It's a silly fear and my gut and passion for long mountain outings ultimately won out. I have no regrets about the decision and I set about learning as much as I could to see me through such a long and challenging event.
I kept up a heavy training volume through the month, meeting Simon, Kyle and Jon for some fun and challenging runs.

March
I kept up a heavy training load for Mt. Fuji, trudging through some soggy and miserable runs.
I raced the Chuckanut 50km for the second time. In retrospect, I probably didn't cut back on my volume quite enough to have a perfect race. I went out with the race leaders at course record pace and paid dearly for the fast opening pace. Although I was able to salvage an 8th place finish and a half decent time, I suffered miserably for about 15 miles before pulling myself out of the hole that I was in. It was comforting to know that I could recover on the run, but I also developed immense respect for the talent of the top ultra runners, like Geoff Roes. Their combination of speed and strength is what I began striving for in my running. I also got my first real dose of the importance of running your own race. I got caught up in the moment and my performance suffered for it.
I recovered very quickly from Chuckanut, which I took as a great sign of my fitness.
Following the tragic Japanese earthquake, the race organizers of the Mt. Fuji understandably announced that they were canceling their race for 2011.

April
I wrote my last round of exams and finished law school. Despite my outward claims to the contrary, I was proud of this. I never finished my undergrad degree, dropping out of school to pursue other opportunities, and it gnawed at me, so being able to earn a law degree and do quite well, while being invigorated by learning, was hugely satisfying.
My running lacked focus, without an immediate race goal and with exams/papers taxing my energy, but I kept up my big miles. I celebrated writing my last exam by driving up to Nanaimo and running the Fletcher's Challenge 11km trail race. It was my first win of the year and I was introduced to awesome trails.

May
I finished my first 50-mile race, the Elk/Beaver 50-mile Canadian Trail Championships, which I won in a time of 5:44:00. I was proud of this race. It was satisfying to know that my body could hold up over the distance, that I could manage the rough patches, get my nutrition right and run a decent time. In retrospect, I could have run a fair bit quicker and others can too on the same course, but time wasn't really my goal, running a race I could be proud of was the objective. It was a good lesson that managing emotions are a very important part of long runs.

I left my apartment, friends and family in Victoria and moved to Vancouver and began my BC Law Society Bard Admission course. I've lived a very transient last 11 years and I was on the move again, relying on the generosity (and basement) of my in-laws. It was definitely sad and hard to leave the Island.

June
I was attending more classes, learning how to be a lawyer. I spent more time daydreaming than learning though and I really struggled with the format and utility of what I was learning. I was also missing Victoria, my support network and, most importantly, my wife.
I began to run more and more in the local mountains, but the trails were very snowed in and the alpine wasn't all that accessible. I ran the Iron Knee 21-25km (distance varies depending on who you ask) and was soundly beaten by a man with three names, finishing second. It was a solid effort and I kept up my mileage with a view on racing the CCC 100km in Chamonix France. I tried to get into the UTMB 100 mile race, but didn't have enough 'points' to qualify. I also toyed with the idea of racing the Canadian Death Race 125km, but knew it would be tricky with my Bar Exam the day before.

July
Lauren was forced to call an end to her season due to severe over-training. It's been hard to watch her struggle the past few years. She is such a talented athlete, but broken bones and now over-training set her back. Still, her attitude is why I love her. She was about as far down in the dumps as an athlete can get, but yet she never settled. She kept looking for answers, resting as much as she could and making hard decisions. Her ability to push through adversity is second to none and I can't wait to celebrate with her when she finally succeeds. Still, it was emotionally hard to see her struggling. I also gained a new level of respect for "fatigue". I never really believed in the concept of over-training, but her symptoms, night sweats, bizarre appetite, inability to push herself, inexplicable injuries, lethargy and frequent cold like symptoms made me respect the need for rest. It also reminded me how fickle sport can be and I swore to keep making the most of the time when I was performing well.

I wrote my Bar Exam-it was mentally draining. After drinking a pint with my cohort, I sneaked off and ran for 3.5 hours of alpine running bliss. I was mentally drained, sleep deprived and maybe a bit buzzed from my one beer (lightweight), but I enjoyed every exhausted step and gained strength with each snowy stride.

I ran the Knee Knacker for the second time. After winning last year, but not being satisfied with how I won, feeling like Aaron Heidt lost the race, rather than me beating him, I wanted to put my fitness to the test and give the course record a go. I went out hard, maybe too hard and ended up running off-course early. I chased hard to catch up, but Aaron ran a smart race and beat me. Once again, I was reminded that a fast opening pace means little in a long race and more often than not, costs you in the end. I also learned that I have to make the same mistake twice for the lesson to stick. Still, I was able to move well while fatigued and I knew my fitness was good.

August
A month of pure "Alpine" bliss. My most memorable month of running to date. I have never put in as much time in the mountains as I did that month, running 20-24 hours a week.
I ran the iconic 31-km Sierre Zinal mountain run and got a taste of the depth and talent of Euro mountain running. I was much too fatigued to get a top result, but I thoroughly enjoyed the race and look back to more Skyrunning races in better condition.
I also ran the CCC and finished a surprising 2nd. I had a perfect race for me on the day. I faced incredible fatigue and gained more confidence that I can be competitive with the best in the world in mountain ultras. I spent a week immersed in mountain running culture, getting to know the top North American and European ultra mountain runners and enjoying the site and spectacle of the UTMB race weekend. It definitely provided a glimpse into how big mountain running can be and I fell in love with the sport and atmosphere. I vowed to go back to experience the UTMB in the top possible physical shape.
Seeing Kilian Jornet compete at both races and getting a chance to watch him race and operate behind the scenes was a real privilege. He is a class athlete and a class person. I was able to witness the professionalism that he and the Salomon team bring to races first hand. As with the UTMB spectacle, it really felt like you could see the nature of the sport changing.

September
I moved back to Vancouver and began working full-time in a corporate law firm environment. Serious culture shock, especially after my past month.
I took it easy for 2 weeks and then signed up for the TNF challenge in December. I kick started my training with the Rubble Creek 25km Classic. A beautiful alpine race in the provincial park just outside Whistler. It's one of the most beautiful mountain races in Canada and well worth doing. I won in essentially a sprint finish and had a blast. The conditions were as miserable as they get, pouring rain, huge winds, sleet, snow etc...

October
Lauren moved back to Victoria, so I got to spend a bit of time on the Island.

It was a low key month. I juggled work and training and watched the days get shorter. I began doing a lot of runs under the beam of my headlamp.
I went to Utah with Arc'teryx and Joe Grant for a photoshoot. It was amazing to get to see the desert that time of year and although we didn't run too much, we still got in some nice jaunts in an amazing part of the US.
My Dad and Robin also came to visit for a few weeks and I enjoyed showing them around the city. I don't get to see him, nor talk to him much, since they live in Nigeria and communication is not always straightforward, so it was nice to reconnect for a while.

November
Ferry trips to the Island, balancing lots of work and running at night. I was definitely feeling worn down from it all. I tried to connect with people as much as possible, as I was getting a bit lonely in town.
It was mostly a monotonous month, but my training went well and I knew I was ready to race. It was an interesting balance, trying not to overdo it with work and play and at times it felt daunting and more than a bit ridiculous.

December
I finished 3rd at the TNF 50. Once again, I had a steady race, I controlled my emotions, I listened to my body well, I manged a few rough patches well and was proud to finish ahead of some very good runners. Once again, my confidence in my ability to prepare and do well at ultra races was buoyed. I also got another glimpse at the level necessary to compete with the best. Being in a pack of 13, or more runners for 15 miles and then seeing Mike Wolfe and Dakota Jones slugging it out at an insanely fast pace made me hungrier than ever to want to be in the mix and reaffirmed my love of preparation and of racing. It was a great way to end a good race season.
I took a week off running and have been playing in the mountains a lot. I did my first day of ski touring and loved it. I also dusted off the skinny skis and have been out for a few rips around the tracks.
Since it's a season to be with family, Lauren's been around, so I was recruited as her on-land (my allergy to chlorinated pools has only gotten stronger this past year) training partner whenever possible over the past 2 weeks. I've been doing run sessions with her and slowly building up my mileage again, getting back into a strength routine and enjoying the relaxed pace of the holiday season.

In summary, after almost 15 years of competing in a variety of endurance sports at a decent level, I finally feel like I have found my sporting niche. I love mountain ultra running. It combines my passion for exploring the outdoors, long training days, challenging myself physically and mentally and the community is incredible. I still have a lot to learn and experience, so I'm very excited for the upcoming year. My results this past year have opened some unexpected doors and opportunities and, knowing how fickle sport can be, I want to make sure that I take advantage of them.
Although I also want to also be smart and strategic about how I approach it all, so I'm still finalizing a plan for 2012-but my main goal will be to finally tackle 100 mile race, or two. I also want to experience more of the Euro classic mountain races if possible. I've enjoyed putting in long hours on my feet, exploring new places and figuring out what is needed to do well at mountain running. It is a different beast from road races and ultra running is a whole other animal, but I know that if I stay smart, that I can build on my fitness and experiences from last year.
Some of my plans are contingent on what happens with Lauren and her attempt to qualify for her second Olympics. She has a difficult task ahead, but, as always, she is facing her challenge with determination, grace, fun and shit load of hard work.
I also have some big career choices and uncertainties to tackle in 2012 and I know that I'll have some soul searching to do.
I am well aware that these are all good problems to have, so, all in all, I'm excited for 2012. As Simon Whitfield would say, the "relentless pursuit" continues.

Seen On The Run

2011-12-29T22:20:00.001-08:00

I headed up the BCMC trail after work today-I beat the dark at the start of the run, which is unusual, but it's been a light work week and I allowed myself to slip out early.
I was able to see the trailhead for once and caught the signs that are posted around the entrance. It is definitely icy at the top and they are right to discourage people from heading up, but with the right gear and some common sense it is a great winter outing. The steep climb, old growth forest and snow at the top are incredibly rejuvenating and it makes for a solid effort. I usually loop it, running down a different trail, but tonight I cheated and took the Skyride down and caught a beautiful view of the city lights.

Trail Statistics
Total Distance: 3.3 km (one-way)
Estimated Time: 32-45 mins depending on conditions, how I'm feeling & how hard I want to go
Average Grade: 25.8%
Elevation Gain: 853 m
Start Elevation: 275 m
Max Elevation: 1128 m

Merry Christmas

2011-12-25T09:01:00.000-08:00

Here's an old picture of my brother and me celebrating Christmas in Nigeria. Santa may be unorthodox, but our smiles make it clear that he was real to us.

To all my family & friends around the world: Merry Christmas God Jul Glædelig jul Joyeux Noël Feliz Navidad 圣诞快乐 Frohe Weihnachten สุขสันต์วันคริสมาสต์

Here's a Canadian Christmas classic:

Reid in Kenya

2011-12-15T21:25:00.001-08:00

Here's a cool little video by Canadian marathon champ, Reid Coolsaet, about Iten Kenya. He's heading back there shortly for a block of training. I think most runner's can admit that they wish they were going with him:

Reid Coolsaet in Kenya from Francis Coral - Mellon on Vimeo.

The Camaraderie of Running

2011-12-10T09:12:00.000-08:00

Although I do a majority of my running alone, I never feel lonely. I've really enjoyed getting to know more of the trail running community and strengthening the bond with old friends while out on the trail this year. The loneliness of the long distance runner is an outside perception that does not reflect my experiences in the sport. When I do get together with other runners for the odd group run or at a race, there is an incredible camaraderie that comes from shared experience and a similar life view, even when the gathering is competitive. We actually have a very strong and tightly knit community of runners. This Salomon Running video filmed and edited by the African Attachment captures the team/family/friendship aspect of running beautifully:

Story told in images

2011-12-06T19:48:00.000-08:00

Since I missed Mike & Dakota's epic battle, I have to follow along via video. Luckily the Endurables were there to capture some of it in this solid little clip:

As for me, here are some images from the day provided by Emma Garrard / Salomon

Some of my pics from life on a houseboat:
(our abode)

TNF50 Roller Coaster

2011-12-05T17:30:00.000-08:00

(Grab a Pepsi, she’s a long one)

I’m sitting naked in the front seat of my car, it’s dark outside and I can hear the rain rasping at the roof of the vehicle. The car smells musky and the heater is blasting my exposed skin with warm canned air. I look over at the mound of muddy shoes littering the passenger side foot cavity of the car, assessing my quiver and the state of my legs, trying to figure out what sort of support I feel like. My suit pants and tie are in a crumpled heap on the passenger seat. It’s the main reason I buy iron free work clothes. I peal on my tights, contorting myself in the tight space around the steering wheel, I put on a long sleeved t-shirt and zip up the brightly coloured jacket. Finally, I grab some gloves, my headlamp and a toque. I take a quick look outside, giving myself a temporary out, before opening the door, turning on my lamp and making my way stiff legged uphill into the woods.

This scene loosely describes my past two months of running. While I’ve enjoyed most of my outings, a lot of them have been equally grim. I do most of my running after work, alone in the dark. I love the fact that I have time to run, but I also resent the fact that I often can’t see more than what the beam of light on my head allows. To be honest, after a long year of running and racing, with some great results, I was feeling a little burned out. I was training hard, putting in lots of miles, but it often felt ridiculous. When I would go over to the Island on weekends to visit my wife, I would say hello and then ditch her for a long run. She deserves wife of the year awards for being so understanding. Doing what I know I needed to do to prepare for the TNF50-mile Championships was getting harder and harder. When I finally boarded the plane on Wednesday night, I knew that I was fit and ready to race, but I was also looking forward to a break.

After a night in downtown San Francisco, in a beautiful quirky hotel right by Chinatown, I moved into a houseboat in Sausalito. While the place was charming and a very cool experience, I can safely safe that houseboat living isn’t for me. The gusting Pacific winds rattled my rickety room all night and being a light sleeper, I had two nights of very disturbed sleep. Still, I was able to practice my French, Spanish, Kiwi and South African with the Salomon international team and geeked out on upcoming shoe models.

Along with some of the other International team members, I helped lead a 6 or so mile community run, along the hills of the Marin headlands, in the Golden Gate National Recreation Area on Thursday afternoon. The run was on some of the trails that would be in the race and having never visited the area before, it was not only fun to meet new people, but it was useful to get a sense of what the terrain felt and looked like. The trails were hard packed, rutted and exposed, but also very runable. It was also nice to be able to take in some of the views, with the city towers poking out above the hills, to see the rugged coastline and the contour of the terrain that we would be racing on visible all around me. As I said previously, I had initially come to the race excited to race against a world class field, but became increasingly motivated by the landscape as well.

After another sleepless night on Thursday, I woke up on Friday feeling like a sack of hammers. I lay in bed as long as I could, but I just felt horrible. I had a headache, my sinuses were congested and I couldn’t fathom the thought of running 50-miles the next day. I convinced myself these were just extreme “taper twinges”, dragged myself out of the bed, had some coffee and went for a trot along a bike path. Luckily, my legs felt quite good, but I kept it short, went home and continued to feel rotten all day. Apart from going to package pick-up, I was anti-social and retreated into myself, trying not to worry about how much harder the next day would be if I was feeling off.

Finally, after a much too early wake up call on Saturday morning and the usual pre-race rituals of bouncing around, trying to wake up and saying what would come across as largely insincere hellos on other occasions to friends I haven’t seen since the previous gathering at a finish line, I found myself rolling along a rain rutted dirt road heading into the hills, surrounded by some of the best trail ultra runners around. The same cool Pacific breeze that had kept me up the previous nights was still gusting, but the sky was clear and we all bobbed down the path illuminated by a sea of undulating headlamps. There was some jostling as 20 or more of us squeezed onto the narrow gravel, the pace was quick, but mostly realistic, with a few seemingly inconsequential lamps moving quickly up the trail. I was struck by how dark it was.

I scanned the crowd to make sure that I was with all the main contenders and I settled in, trying to find shelter from the wind as we made our way uphill. There was some light banter in the group and I commiserated with eventual race winner and lawyer, Mike Wolfe, about fitting training in with life. His calm, friendly demeanour, incredible results, grinder approach to racing and similar life situation have been a huge inspiration to me. It was comforting to hear that he also struggles with the dual personality existence that a lot of athletes have to live.

As expected, we yo-yoed along in a pack of 15-20 runners for the first 15 miles, biding our time for the sun to rise. Some of the turns on the course were confusing and the odd runner would miss a corner before the group would call them back. I was happy to let others take the lead. Unfortunately, I can’t chalk this up to any newfound wisdom, or a smart strategy, it was largely dictated by my stomach. Although the pace was solid, it wasn’t excessively fast, but I continued to feel horrible. My stomach was in knots and my legs felt heavy. I would drift through the back of pack on each climb and then roll back into it on the downhills. Due to three days of steady wind, there was a lot of blown out debris on the course, which caught my feet a few times, but it was mostly smooth trail.

I tried to enjoy the facts that I was trading places with Michael Wardian, Geoff Roes, Dakota Jones, Galen Burrell, Rickey Gates, fellow Canuck Ryan Day and a host of other very talented athletes. I expected that this pack would eventually detonate, but it was incredibly novel to snake my way along the switchbacks in a conga line of runners. I’ve spent an awful lot of miles racing alone this year.

Uncharacteristically (Knee Knacker runners insert comment here), I had a really bad sense of where the course was going and since I was feeling horrendous, I had no idea that we had started the longest climb of the course. I was also surprised to realize that the sun was finally up. It would continue to be a perfect sun day for the rest of the race. I really wasn’t with it mentally at this point. I tried to hold on to the group as we zigzagged up, but my stomach was failing. Since we were less than 2.5 hours into the race, the reality of the day becoming a long grind started to set in and I watched the group disappear up the climb. I convinced myself to run as steady a pace as I could manage until 4 hours and then I would allow myself to reassess how the day was going, so I plugged away.

Somewhere up the climb I ran past an aide station and saw Anton Krupicka (you know a race is stacked when even the spectators are stud runners), I whined something to him and he told me to keep getting calories in, which I did. It was sound advice. I sucked back a gel and almost instantly puked. I washed out my mouth with water and I tried to gag down another gel. It didn’t taste too good and I wretched again as I ran along. I’m not sure what it was, but at that point, something seemed to clear in my stomach, things settled and I almost instantly started to feel better. My legs seemed to come alive and I found breathing much easier and my attitude took a 180.

Right around that time, I noticed Tim Olson charging up behind me. I remember being told that he was a good climber, so I made it a goal to try and stay ahead of him. Together, we slowly began reeling in other runners and I started to enjoy the day a bit more. When the lead group came roaring past us on the out & back section, I was pleasantly surprised to see that they weren’t miles up the road. It also looked like there were more and more victims from the fast pace and I settled into trying to pick up some shrapnel from the group.

The thought of gels continued to make me sick, so I filled my water bottle with Pepsi and nursed the bottle away. I was told quite clearly by many volunteers that it was Pepsi not Coke as I screamed into aide stations yelling for the brown sugar water which was sustaining me. I ate the odd container of Shot Bloks and sucked back a few salt pills. Endurance racing is often about problem solving and my stomach was clearly being a problem, but once again, Coke, sorry, Pepsi, worked magic for me and my stomach settled. I was able to get in some calories and fluids that way, fuelling myself along.

Tim and I continued to roll down the trail together. We both commented on how enjoyable it was to run with each other and we started cruising along and we continued passing people. Pretty soon I realized we were into the top-10 and moving well. We both assumed that one or two other runners would probably come back to us, but we both also have enough respect for everyone else out there not to necessarily expect it to happen. I continued to monitor my body and push up against my limit. I was happy with how everything was feeling and I really started to enjoy the day.

Somewhere in the 30-35 mile range, we began to mesh in with the 50-km runners as we ran through the forest. People were kind enough to clear the track as we ran past, Tim shadowing me the whole way. I passed Ryan, who was having a phenomenal debut 50-mile race, but who was also beginning to hurt a bit and thought I saw Michael Wardian up the trail. I reminded myself not to get too excited, since there was lots of running left, but I definitely felt a surge. As I passed Michael, I caught a glimpse of Geoff and another runner up ahead and got another jolt of excitement. I caught Geoff as we headed up some stairs and he told me that he was having a rough go of things on the climbs, but he also told me the guy ahead was hurting too. It’s always too bad to see champions like Michael and Geoff struggling, but like champs, they kept plugging away and I wasn’t going to wait around for one of them to get a second wind.

As I finished the climb, my French support team, began to chant my name, which, once again, lifted my motivation. I was now in third and feeling quite good. I was getting time splits to Mike and Dakota up the road. I knew that they were a ways up there and were battling it out. I realized that my only hope of catching either of them was that their head to head racing would lead one of them to crack. Not surprisingly, neither did.

I definitely struggled at times in the closing miles. My quads were sore, I was getting a bit tired and I was caught off guard by a steep exposed climb, which had a strange camber. Not knowing how far into the race I was, I assumed that I would be running for about 7hours and budgeted my effort accordingly. However as I came into the last aide station, I remembered reading that it came about 45 miles into the race and realized that I’d be finishing closer to 6:40, which, once again, was a big mental lift. Suddenly having 20 minutes knocked off your run time in a race on tired legs is a wonderful gift. I couldn’t see Tim, Geoff, or Michael charging behind me, so I settled back into my steady strong rhythm and tried to make the miles tick by as quickly as possible, peaking around the corners trying to see if Mike or Dakota might be up the road.

As I neared the finish line and realized that I’d finish 3rd, I was ecstatic. I honestly didn’t know if I’d be walking 30 or more miles at the start of the day and I was happy to be able to pull myself out of a nasty slump and turn things around. It’s hard to explain to non runners, but sometimes your body magically sorts itself out over the course of a long run. That was definitely my experience on the day.
While I would have loved to have been in the mix with the front group for longer and especially duking it out with Mike and Dakota up front in their epic battle, I ran the race that my body allowed me to on the day and I feel like I did my hours of solo night running proud. It was a great way to finish what I can only describe as a dream season.

After racing my first 50ks last year and finishing my first 50 miler earlier this year, I realize that I still have a lot left to experience in the ultra world. I’m really excited and curious to try my hand at a 100-miler or two next year and to keep experiencing new races in interesting places &/or against top level competition. But before I sit down and hash out a plan for 2012, I’m going to kick back and enjoy what’s left of this year. I’ll let my shoes keep stinking up my car for a bit longer as I dust off my skis and trade in the rain for some snow sports for a little while and cross my fingers for some Western States lottery luck.

Race results available here

Gear:
Arc'teryx Motus Crew SS
Arc'teryx Accelero hat
Salomon exo team shorts
Salomon exo calf guards
Salomon Slab 4 Softground shoes

Food:
Cliff Bloks (2 strands)
Cliff shots (maybe 4)
Overstims gels(maybe 3)
Coke/Pepsi (4 water bottles full)
10 salt pills

The North Face Endurance Challenge

2011-12-01T21:45:00.000-08:00

I'll be racing the North Face Endurance Challenge 50-mile race in San Francisco on Saturday morning. The course runs through the Marin headlands, just across the Golden Gate bridge. It's very much a championships race, with a who's who of trail ultra-running racing, or at least those still standing and willing to the toe the line after a long season of running and racing. A few notable names will be missed as they follow along online, drinking beer and/or head out for a day of skiing. As always, Bryon Powell has a good overview of the field at iRunFar.com.
I came here to test myself against a great field, but after a quick run on the trails today I'm also feeling really inspired by the surroundings. It's much more stunning and open than I expected and the area has a long history of ultra-running, with some iconic races run on the trails. Although it isn't technically a mountain race, there really isn't much flat on the course.
I'm well prepared and excited to race, which is a great starting point, but as with any ultra, there's a lot of footsteps between the start and finish. The course and the stacked field will throw a lot at us out there, which should provide some entertaining drama.

I believe that you can follow my race via my Facebook page, as Sportstats will be linking to the site. Other than that, you can follow the race on Twitter, I believe updates will be posted here(not sure what their hashtag will be):
http://twitter.com/#!/iRunFar
http://twitter.com/#!/thenorthfaceECS
http://twitter.com/#!/salomon_running

For the curious, here's a course profile from the race package:

Imagination

2011-11-29T20:35:00.000-08:00

Arc'teryx invited me to the Vancouver premier of All.I.Can by Sherpas Cinema about a month ago. It has some amazing cinematography, with interesting angles and creative concepts. Most importantly for a ski movie, they do a great job at capturing the skiing. The sequence below is an example of just how progressive their thinking can be. It really is unlike any ski sequence that I've seen:

JP Auclair Street Segment (from All.I.Can.) from Sherpas Cinema on Vimeo.

Pure Gold

2011-11-16T20:30:00.000-08:00

"Some need a kick up the pants, some need an arm 'round the shoulder..."

Mike Spracklen is a coaching legend in rowing. He has coached boats to Olympic medals at 8 Olympic games, dating back to 1976 and in three different countries. Since 2000, Spracklen has been coaching the Canadian men's squad, winning the Gold medal for eights at the 2002, 2003 and 2007 World Championships and at the 2008 Olympics. He is currently coaching them towards London, 2012 and, as always, they hold themselves to the highest possible standards. Here he is eloquently sharing his thoughts on what it will take to get there.

Although not remotely as qualified, nor even half as eloquent as Spracklen, I have an article in the current edition of Impact Magazine on the mental side of training and racing. The magazine is now online and you can view the article, "An Ultra State of Mind" here

A Few Tips & Tricks

2011-11-09T21:11:00.000-08:00

Like most runners, I have a few set routes that are my staple runs. I know how far they are, approximately how long they should take to run and I often have expectations about how I will feel on different sections of the run. They are an excellent gauge of my fitness and frankly, they can also be quite mindless. I can tune everything out and just roll along.
However one of my favourite things to do on days when I am feeling tired and dreading the thought of slogging out a few miles is to use that run as a way to explore. I ignore my normal routes and just wander the trails or streets, looking for new pockets. I have gotten to know Victoria and its trail networks very well on these wandering runs.
I lose all my expectations and benchmarks, so I don’t focus on how bad I may be feeling. I can get lost in a sense of being in a micro-adventure as I veer down a new road, or on a side trail that I have never been on before. I enjoy the new stimulus and use that as my motivation to put in more time on my feet. More often than not, I find myself forgetting my early hesitant steps and find myself rolling along the new stretch of road or trail, enjoying my run and feeling significantly better than I thought I would.
People normally talk about periodizing in the sense of planning a training schedule; writing in hard days, easy days, long runs, tempo runs, fartleks, races, down-time etc…I’d extend it to periodizing where you run. Your mind and body will thank you for the change in stimulus and you’ll get to know your neighbourhood, city, town, trail or peaks even better. You don’t always have to go far for an adventure, it can happen in your own backyard and your feet can easily take you there.

October (so far)

2011-10-24T20:20:00.000-07:00

Joe Grant and I were down in the desert last week, taking some pictures with Arc'teryx. We flew into Vegas and got out of there as quickly as possible to hit up Zion and Bryce National Park in Utah. They really are magical settings. We both wished that we had more time to explore, but were certainly not complaining about the opportunity to be down there.
It was also interesting to get to know Joe a bit better and hear about his vision/philosophy of running. Although we share an equal passion, he has a slightly different perspective and relationship with running than I do. He jumped straight into ultra-running and really embraces the adventure side of the sport, so I enjoyed sharing experiences and running world-views with him.
As for Utah, I love our densely forested coastal trails, but they frequently come with overcast skies and a lack of views. The desert vistas, blue bird days and red rocks are pretty much the antithesis of this climate, so the change was nice. Some of the small towns that we drove through and stayed in also made for some interesting people watching. Definitely cowboy country. I hope to go back on a "runcation" in the near future.

Speaking of sunny days, I have a new badge on the side banner of my blog. Lauren has been a Ryders Eyewear sponsored athlete for the past 4 years and I've been lucky enough to get a few pairs on the side through her. I'm happy to say that I've moved up from Lauren's sidekick to being an athlete on their roster. It's great to represent another Vancouver based company with such a strong commitment to helping us all play outdoors more comfortably. Go Canada!

After quite a long period of feeling flat, I seem to have found some late season pep in my stride recently and have decided to extend my season. I've been ramping up the mileage and looking forward to having a crack at the 50-mile North Face Endurance Challenge, December 3rd, in San Francisco. I've never been to the area before, so I'm looking forward to running in the Marin Headlands and hopefully poking around the city a bit after the race. Also, with $30,000 total in prize money, it has one of (if not the) biggest prize purse in North American ultra-running and attracts a stellar international field. So, lots to look forward to and very good motivation to get my ass out the door.

Finally, I just did a rather "quirky" interview with Chris Kelssal over at Flotrack. I've enjoyed the site's race coverage and reading Chris' interviews for a number of years, so it's a big honour for me answer some questions and share some thoughts. If you want to know whether or not I think Picasso would have been a good trial (trail?) lawyer, read on here!

Here are some pics from Utah (first two by Brian Goldstone):

Guest blogging

2011-10-08T16:00:00.000-07:00

I'm doing a weekly post at the new Frontrunner's Victoria site. They've set up a blog and have a few runners writing for them. The store and its owner, Rob Reid, are an amazing resource and are huge supporters of the Victoria running community. Rob and the store have helped me tremendously over the years, with work, sponsorships, race entries, connections, mentorship, friendship etc... They've also started carrying Arc'teryx gear recently, so you know they're a good place to shop :) I'm glad that I can finally give back to them in a small way.

My first post for them was about how much I enjoy fall runs. Here's the post:

Loamy Fall Runs

Fall has always been my favourite time of year for running. I started my running addiction at high school cross-country meets and extended those experiences to university. I continue to run daily; more often than not I head out twice a day, building on the foundation of those early fall runs.

I remember my first group workouts, which could better be described as “hammerfests”, where pacing got tossed out the window and beating your teammates into the ground was the sole objective. This same strategy extended to our races, where we would go out at a suicidal pace and try to hang on for as long as possible. Success came down to those who slowed down least.

I started running wearing baggy soccer shorts, tennis, or basketball shoes and cotton t-shirts, however over the course of that first season, my shorts became shorter, my t-shirts turned to singlets and I started the long process of callousing my feet with blisters earned from wearing spikes that were two sizes too big.

Although the workouts and races were fun, I always enjoyed our long group runs the most. We would meet up after class, on Thursday afternoon, jump on a bus and drive out to a Provincial park about 20 minutes away. It always felt like we were heading off on an adventure. Our runs only lasted 45 or 60 minutes, but I remember finishing them feeling exhausted and satisfied. It’s hard work building a base, but even then we understood that running rewards hard work and the more we did, the better we would become. Inevitably, we would run too hard. We would also joke around during the runs, playing pranks on each other, which mostly involved trying to “pants” each other (pull each other's shorts down), which to a 14 year old boy is probably the funniest thing you can do, or trying to plan ambushes to catch the girls group off-guard, which is the second funniest thing to do.

On top of the camaraderie and physical effort of those outings, I also remember the crisp, clear, cold fall air, the rich tapestry of colours of the leaves carpeting the trail and the dappled light that would pierce through the thinning foliage. What I remember most though is how soft the ground was underfoot. The rich, organic, loamy surface felt bouncy, cushioning our stride, allowing us to run harder and longer. It smelled like nature should. I liked the strength required to run up and over hills, the unpredictability of the footfall on the rocky, rooty surface and being able to splash through the odd puddle that would pool on the trail’s surface.

Last Sunday, as I did a mountain run up at Whistler, I couldn’t help but think how little has changed. My gear has gotten more technical, my runs are longer and I no longer try to pants and ambush my running partners as often, but the essence of what I love about fall running is the same. I love being outside as the seasons transition, running along a soft surface, smelling the crisp, peaty air and feeling it coat my lungs, chatting with a group of like minded friends. We share a lot of intimate and inane details with the trail, but mostly we enjoy the simple act of running. I don’t think that will ever change.

Weekend inspiration:
On the video front, Canadian alpinist & cover boy, Jason Kruk
has posted a video (part I) of a great adventure he had over at Mt Waddington with Arc designer, Tony Richardson (yes, people who work there go after it hard). It's worth a watch for some weekend inspiration:

The journey to Mystery Mountain - part 1 from Jason Kruk on Vimeo.

Weathering a race

2011-09-28T19:27:00.000-07:00

Mad man of the woods sprinting to the finish-photo by David McColm

Waking up before sunrise on race morning, to the sound of pouring rain and howling wind, gave me a thousand excuses to sleep in. I don't love the cold and I was supposed to go up, above the treeline, which offers a bit of protection from the rain and some insulation from the cold wind.
Regardless, this was a mountain race and you have to be ready to take whatever the mountain has to give. We're definitely playing on her terms out there. Plus, I was able to spin it, convincing myself that it would be a unique experience to witness the alpine in storm like weather, a natural state for the environment. So, I coaxed myself out of bed, put on every piece of cold weather gear I had and layered it with an outer shell of Gore-tex to keep me as warm and dry as possible.
I was joined by a groggy Lauren, as well as my Dad and Robin, who had never seen me race, so I had some extra incentive to get out there. We drove to the start line in silence, I was in a bit of a meditative mood, trying to wrap my mind around how cold I would be for the next three hours or so and thinking up strategies to avoid freezing.
When we arrived at the "startline", basically a post at the trailhead, I noticed that the parking lot was a bit thin. There were maybe 30 cars there at the most. I realized a few had decided to listen to the weather and stay indoors for a few more hours.
The wind was pushing the treetops around, but the rain had slowed to a trickle. I parked beside some familiar faces and we joked about what to wear. The race director, James Retty, a former Whistler patroller and guide, made some comments about "being an idiot if you don't have some sort of a shell on you out there." He also reminded us that it's a self-supported race and that we should bring our own food and water. Ed and I decided to be idiots. We put on a baselayer and covered it with a singlet for more warmth and don't pack any supplies. Light and fast is the motto, but if anything goes wrong, it will mean long drawn out suffering.
We jogged around, dodging trail litter from the trees, trying to stay warm. Finally, the race gets underway and we set off down the trail. Ed I take the lead instantly. He tucks in behind me and we drive forward. We slosh through the mud, surrounded by a thick and tall curtain of gnarled, lush green trees. We dodge roots, mud puddles and fallen branches, stumbling occasionally on the rough footing. This is true We(s)t Coast running. At least the rain gas eased.
As we climb our way up the mountain, I start to warm up. Ed is glued to my heels and we start to pull away from the pack. We don't say much to each other, but I can tell that we're both having fun. We immediately start to pass the early wave starters, but apart from them, we have the trail to ourselves. I'm amazed at how gradual the climb feels, we run hard the entire way. Ed never lets me get more than an arms length away, which I don't mind, I prefer to be able to look up the trail. It really is a beautiful part of the world.
After about 50 minutes of climbing, I realize that we're nearing the top. The trees start to thin out and the trail flattens. Just at that moment, the rain picks up and the wind begins to gust again. We leave our protective green barrier and start to face the elements. I'm a bit thirsty.
The trail is in relatively good shape and is very runable, but the arctic wind is blowing in our face and my legs are feeling cold and unresponsive. I know that the harder I run, the warmer I'll feel, so I try to push, but my cold muscles limit my range of motion and my stride feels forced. I worry a bit that I've become an ultra shuffler and promise to get back into some harder runs this fall.
I take some time to look around me, appreciating the fact that we have a view of the peaks and glaciers of Garibaldi Park and the trail all to ourselves. Despite having a limited view, it's still breathtaking.
Ed continues to stick to me like glue. The whole run feels more like a training effort than a race. The rain picks up and my muscles get tighter. The trail is now water logged and feels more like a creek. We splash through the mud and water and begin to joke about how much fun this is. Our gamesmanship is broken by the stunning surroundings and how ridiculous our Sunday morning activity has become. We push on, neither of us knowing exactly where to go, so we just follow the trail.
The rain turns, to sleet and hail and then to snow. My hands are freezing. I try to wrap a buff around my head for some more warmth. It doesn't do much.
Ed finally takes the lead briefly and it feels nice not to be tackling the wind with the stinging weather lashing my face and body, but I notice that he slows the pace, so I get back in front.
We finally reach an open scree section, which has a knee deep and cold river crossing. The trail is hard to see, but we wade through it. My feet instantly turn to ice blocks and my already tight muscles constrict even further. Ed and I push forward, scrambling along, surrounded by stunning peaks. I know we're both tempted by them.
As we reach the Taylor Meadows, descending towards Garibaldi lake, my foot catches a root, hidden in a puddle and I Superman down the trail. I do a perfect ten landing and slide along the muddy trail like a soccer player who just scored a goal. Ed sidesteps me and makes sure that I'm alright. I strained my arm a bit, but everything feels fine. I've got a brown streak running down the front of my singlet and shorts and a bloody knee-now I look like a trail runner.
We keep running through creek bed, which is supposed to be a trail. Despite the freezing cold, not being able to feel my hands and frozen feet, it really is fun. This is the feeling and environment that I dream about being in on weekdays while I sit at my desk.
Finally, the trail starts to dip down. Instantly, Ed blows in front of me and starts to dive down the trail at a sprinter like speed. I know that we have 8 kilometers and 6,000 feet of descending in front of us, which will hurt a lot. Still, I try to go with him, but my legs won't respond. He opens up a gap and there's nothing I can do about it. The gap grows to 10 seconds, then 15, then 20 and finally 30 seconds, as the kilometers tick by. I essentially resolved myself to second. I've had a lot of seconds this year and I really wanted to win, since my dad has never seen me race, but I accept that some days, other runners are just better.
After 3 or 4 kilometers of suicidal and slippery hard downhill running, passing the odd group of hikers, I realize that Ed has stopped putting time into me, in fact, it feels like he's coming back. I try to push harder, but my quads are feeling shot and I'm still cold from the slashing rain. Still, step by step, his singlet seems to be getting bigger and I realize that he's fading, suffering from the early push. I trust that after a summer of big miles in the mountains, that my legs can handle the pounding, so I push again. In mountain running, the race is never over until you cross the finish line. Finally, with about a mile to go, I realize that I've got my hooks on him again. I wait a bit, not wanting him to rally when I go by and finally, I push past him. I give him a little congratulatory pat as I pass, it's been a fun fight and I drive hard to the finish. I realize instantly that he hasn't come with me, but I'm not willing to let up. I don't feel the cold anymore.
I finally run out of the trees and see Lauren, Dad and Robin standing there, in the pouring rain, likely freezing, but with a proud look on their faces. I'm glad I won. As much for myself, as for a thank you to them for waiting around.
Ed splashes down the trail a few seconds later and we congratulate each other, trying to shake hands as we uncurl our frozen fingers, on a fun experience. It really was a great battle.

The Rubble Creek is a highly touted race by the local mountain running community and I'm glad I experienced it. It really is a stunning track. The weather on the day was considered the worse in the 26 year history of the event, which adds a fun mountain element into the mix. If it's going to be bad, it might as well be epicly bad!

Rubble Creek Classic results
The Pique magazine review
Whistler Question report

Ed and I looking stylish post-race

Lauren, Dad and Robin dodging Tom McCarthy's splash

A fun battle through the woods by David McColm

Rubble Creek + September sun

2011-09-24T16:09:00.000-07:00

Although I've been feeling more than average recently, I've decided to run the Rubble Creek Classic mountain run tomorrow. It's a tough, but incredibly scenic, little point to point alpine course in Garibaldi park that I've always wanted to do, but have never been around for. The course goes from Chekamus Lake parking lot, up to Helm Creek, Upper Lake trails, Taylor Meadows, Garibaldi lake, and down to the Rubble Creek Black Tusk parking lot. The basic stats are:

Distance: 24.5km
Elevation Gain: 1338.4m
Elevation Loss: 1592.8m
Highest Elevation: 1781.6m
Lowest Elevation: 557.4m

Unfortunately, they're calling for deluge like weather, so I don't think the views will be as stunning as they can be and the course will be a muddy/cold mess, but it will be a fun adventure. With a snow dusting last weekend, the alpine running opportunities are quickly running out, so I'm excited for another rip around the mountains.

Here are some pics from the trail on a run & some from a hike up at Blackcomb, that I did a few weeks ago to give you a sense of the area. It's an easy trip from Vancouver and there are lots of good camping and side trips to make a weekend of it up there:

Online registration-the quick & dirty

2011-09-20T15:15:00.000-07:00

Pablo Picasso is famously quoted as saying: “Computers are useless. They can only give you answers.” Although he is right, if you know the question you want to ask, having quick and easy answers to those questions makes computers quite handy.

I’ve been suffering from a rather tired body and post race blues the past month. My muscles have been tight, my running has felt forced and robotic and I haven’t enjoyed it as much as I normally do. This often happens at the end of a long season. By most accounts, I’ve had a very enjoyable and successful race year and I’ve enjoyed my running, but, like most things, running is cyclical and I’m at the low end of a cycle at the moment.
I find these times useful to reflect on what I’ve done, how I did them, what I want/need to change and what I want to do next. Part of this means researching new adventures and races to check out. I’m very curious to try my hand at some hundred milers next year, so I’ve been researching events. To be honest, there are so many amazing and tempting races out there and I have a quickly expanding bucket list of races that I want to try and places I want to visit. Unfortunately, due to my life circumstance, priorities and physical ability, I can only do so many races a year. Some people seem to be able to race every weekend and be successful. I’m not one of those athletes. I have to be a bit more strategic and plan out my year, focusing on one or two key events and racing some other races a bit underdone, or overcooked from training. So as I peruse and research the various races, I’m once again amazed at the wealth and depth of information available online.
Being the wily old veteran that I am (sarcasm), I remember the days when you had to go to a specialty run store, browse through the mountain of paper in a race package, or have your local club, or the race itself, mail you race info and the race entry, normally a 3-fold brochure, with a grainy picture, some basic race details and a page for your registration information, with spaces too small to really be useful, or legible. You’d fill it out by hand and mail in a cheque. I’d inevitably make a mistake and end up in the wrong category, or my name would be bastardized as someone would try to decipher the hieroglyphics that I try to pass off as handwriting. Madam Candell did well in the 16-19 female age category a few times about a decade (or more) ago. In short, the process was slow and it sucked. It was highly exclusive, you had to know where to go and where to look and if you weren’t “in the loop” already, there was a good chance you could miss out. After the race, you’d have to wait for club and regional newsletters, or national and international magazines to be published to find race results, if the race directors decided to submit them.

Today, all a newcomer to the sport needs to find out about and register for a race is to know roughly the when, what, where and the type of race and have the ability to Google, to find out as much as they need to know. From there, they can look up the race details on the race website, many of which have fairly detailed descriptions, including course profiles, elevation charts, Google maps, videos, where to park, how to get to the race, local accomodation, where aide stations are, what the finisher medals look like etc… They can then fill out the race details very quickly & efficiently online.

Sites like Ultrasignup, sportstats, raceheadquarters, racedaytiming...have consolidated lists of races and offer registration services and post race results almost instantly, all of which make the race process move seamlessly. There’s no risk of the entry getting lost in the mail, you get an instant email confirmation and your payment goes through then and there. You can then scan the list of other participants and figure out the level of competition, know which of your friends will be there and plan ride shares to the race. If you’re very analytical, you can link to previous results and figure out roughly how long the race will take, who you’re likely to run with and pretty much any other detail that might interest you and help you plan for the event. Big races will have links to training groups, expert advice, some offer training plans, what to expect, all of which help to make the experience easier for newcomers.

Don’t get me wrong our current online system has its flaws. There’s a common chorus of complaints about how quickly races fill up these days. Races no longer necessarily begin when the gun goes off, the first winners are those that can be first to the keyboard when next year’s race entry launches. Popular races, with limited fields, sell out in minutes of opening registration. You often have to have a calendar alert of when a registration goes online and then hover over the race website months in advance, trying to time your access down to the minute of when the online registration begins . If you have a slow internet connection, an old computer, can’t find your credit card fast enough, or you can’t type, you risk missing out on the narrow window when you can sign up, before all the other keeners beat you to the punch!

In order to offset some of the unfairness in this process, such as having to be in a meeting, or at the birth of a first child when your favourite race opens, races have started holding lotteries, where you apply for the right to have your name entered into a draw to win the priviledge of paying for a race entry. Like the NFL, or NHL draft, people sit around anxiously speculating and hoping to have their name pulled, earning them the right to put in months of training and then suffer horribly for a few minutes, hours or days, depending on the race, several months down the road. Although it can be frustrating, this isn’t a bad thing. It shows the increased popularity of the sport and definitely rewards race directors who repeatedly put on high quality events. These are usually the races that I’m interested in doing. For the elitists, or veterans, who complain about races filing up early, this process still laregly rewards people "in the know", since we share information with each other about when race registartion opens and race directors are usually good about letting previous entrants know about the timing of registartion. For full disclosure, I'll admit that being recognized as an "elite" runner, whatever that means, I am granted certain registartion priviledges at some events, so I have circumvented this process at some events, but other races are more egualitarian, treating all athletes the same.

So what all this means is that despite having a natural tendency towards being spontaneous with my racing, I have to plan things out. I’m spending a fair bit of time thinking about what I might want to do 6, 9 or 12 months down the road, commit to some races, recharge my batteries and legs and then get out the door and train for them. At the moment, I’m leaning towards two of the Ultra Trail Mount Fuji, Western Sates (if I get in via the lottery) and Ultra Trail de Mont Blanc, for next year, but I’m open to suggestions, so feel free to fire away with recommendations near and far…

In other internet news, I have two interviews up on the web. If you have some free time, feel free to check them out:
http://www.healthynomics.com/lifestyle/interview-with-adam-campbell-mountain-and-trail-runner/

http://trailrunner.ca

Phinal Photo Dump

2011-09-02T06:51:00.000-07:00

These images give you an idea of the crowd and energy around town. Amazing to see people lined up 3 deep to cheer on ultra runners & big screened TVs showing the action, framed against a backdrop of stunningly dramatic peaks.
My time in Europe/Chamonix wasn't all running, in fact, food played a huge part. There is some fantastic produce and local food options across town.
Of course, mountain scenery was a main theme of my trip. The Aiguille du Dru and the Mer de Glace:
After the race, I met up with Lauren in Zurich, while I was in transit and we went and visited Arc'teryx Switzerland. We were taken to visit Per La Vida, a main supplier of the brand and a very cool store in a funky district.

Mining For Positive Thoughts At The CCC

2011-08-30T15:55:00.000-07:00

Photos by Timothée Nalet – www.peignee-verticale.com

***My apologies for the quality of this race report. I have written this as a way of staying awake and fighting off jet lag after getting off too many hours of travel, so my editing and writing are not exactly up to snuff.

“Remember to smile out there!” This message, posted to my Facebook wall by Peter Watson, was my mantra for almost 10.5 hours last Friday. It was good advice that dramatically changed my perception of a rather uncomfortable experience.

I was running the Courmayer-Champex-Chamonix (CCC) race at the Ultra Trail de Mont Blanc (UTMB) race festival. Starting in Italy, this 98km mountain run, with almost 5,800 cumulative meters of elevation gain and loss, passes through Switzerland and ends in the iconic mountain town of Chamonix France. The route takes the 1,800 runners up cols, down valleys and through towns and villages along the Mont Blanc massive.
It is not a pristine mountain experience, but rather, it's a spectacle of the sport of mountain ultra running. I happen to like this aspect of the race. For a sport that is often niche and very grassroots and an activity that I spent a vast majority of my time doing alone, almost everything about the race is an over-the top, at times kitschy, experience. A true celebratory event.
All week long, the town of Chamonix is abuzz with runners nervously and anxiously waiting around, strolling the cobble-stoned streets, their necks kinked up at the peaks and glaciers that loom over the town, eating carb heavy foods, whispering rumours about the weather and course changes, debating who will win, wondering whether they have done enough training and if their bodies and minds are up to the task, comparing gear choices and buying the latest and lightest gear options available at every shop in town. As all the best mountain ultra runners from across 62 countries descend upon Chamonix for that last week in August, it became the hub of world mountain ultra running.
Once the races kick off on Monday, the town is awash in the cacophony of the crackly voice of the race announcer and overly dramatic canned music blaring over the main square and a nervous energy permeates the crowds. The streets are lined with sponsor laden barricades and big screen TVs, spread across town, play moments of the race on repeat, or show live splits of races underway, as crowds gather around, mesmerised by the self-induced suffering that is happening on the trails and peaks around them.
I tried to soak in this spirit as much as I could prior to my event. It's what drew me to the race in the first place. I immersed myself in the crowds of amazingly talented runners in town and tried to ask as many questions as I could and learn as much as possible from the incredible athletes that were walking the streets and eating at the cafes and restaurants. The more questions I asked, the more psyched I got. At heart, I'm a huge fan of the sport, so I was geeking out with the best of them.
When I went to pick up my race package on Thursday and doping control took me aside for some blood tests, it was the final affirmation that this race was unlike any trail race that I'd done before.

After a week of feeding off of this energy and months of hard work in preparation for the the race, I was more than ready to go. On race morning, as I drove through the Mt Blanc tunnel from France into Courmayer Italy, I was psyched for my first trip to Italy and to get the event underway.
I got to town early and had enough time to grab a famous Italian espresso pre-race. As I sat in the smokey cafe, sipping my bitter brew and stared around at the peaks in the Aosta Valley I mentally committed to enjoy the experience, no matter what the outcome.
I lined up close to the front, but avoided the front row. The spectators lining the streets were 3 or 4 deep and I was engulfed in a sea of geared up runners, all of whom were pressing forward, trying to save a precious meter or two that they wouldn't have to run extra. It made for tight quarters.
When the gun finally went off, the roar of the crowds coaxed people into a ridiculously fast opening pace. I tried not to get caught up in it and slowly rolled my way to the front of the race over the next mile or so. I had looked up previous results and knew that some former top finishers were in the race, so I sought them out and tucked in around them.
I have a bit of a reputation for being a fast starter, something which has haunted me in the later stages of some races, so I wanted to be patient. I also enjoyed the fact that I had some company to run with, so I set off into the first hill with the pack.
The first climb was steep enough that it was a mix of running and fast hiking and I was pleasantly surprised that the pace with the lead group felt manageable. I had no idea how I would stack up against the field, so this gave me a real boost of confidence. I began to smile at the fact that I was in the lead group and I did not feel over my head.
As the climb increased, the pack whittled down to about 5 of us. I tried to chat in French with some guys around me, but I was ignored, so I shut up. There was one guy up the trail, but no one around me seemed too anxious about him, so I figured that was his MO and either he was going to crush it, or he would come back to us eventually.
The group stayed tight through the first climb and as we made our way down the mountain, I was once again pleasantly surprised that I could hang quite comfortably with the lead group. My confidence got another boost. I made sure to take some time and soak in some of the magnificent scenery and enjoy the encouragement from the spectators, because I knew that I wouldn't fully appreciate them later in the race, as my mind, body and legs got more tired.
The most noteworthy thing that happened over these miles was rounding a corner on a traversing single track trail, when suddenly a helicopter with a film crew popped out of the valley about 20 feet away from me. The dust from the rotors was suffocating, but I had to laugh at how amazing that was.
As we began to tackle the second major climb of the day, I had my first energy low. This often happens to me 2 hours into runs, so I wasn't surprised. I didn't feel bad when two guys passed me and I had to hike some sections that they were running. I tried to convince myself that they were using up energy that I was saving for later. You have to convince yourself that things will be alright during these low spots, or they can quickly keep heading south. I nursed my way through this section, but this is where the eventual winner gaped me.
As we ran up and over the Grand Col Ferret, I was amazed at how many people were up there in horrible weather conditions to cheer us on. I tried to thank them all as I ran past and this really lifted my spirits. Although I'm sure in reality my thanks sounded more like grunts on the windy col.
I summited in fourth and bombed down the track. I caught the second and third place runners, who had about 90 seconds on me, quite quickly. I was clearly descending better than them, so I asked if I could pass and from that point on, I was in second. I made sure not to press too hard, checking in on my effort and being careful not to blow my quads for later, but before I knew it, I had dropped the other two runners and I was out of Italy and into Switzerland.
Once again, this got me quite excited. I was now in the same country as my wife, who I knew was following along online in Davos and I had been training hard in Switzerland for the previous 3 weeks, so I convinced myself that I had a home field advantage. In retrospect, this was a silly thought, still, I love the mind games that you can play with yourself over the course of such a long and strenuous effort. You have to find little positive nuggets and hold on to them, because otherwise the immensity of the effort that you are facing can easily overwhelm you. I essentially ran alone from this point of the race to the finishline, so I had to spend a lot of time mining for these nuggets of positive thoughts.
I nursed myself through the rest of the course. I was apprehensive with the length of the race and difficulty of the course, and basically accepted the fact that I had to run my own race. The frontrunner was slowly putting time into me and all I could hope for was that he would blow up. I clung to this hope all the way to the finishline and used it to talk my way through some low points in the race.
I kept Peter's mantra in mind and tried to get as much energy as I could from the thousands of spectators, hikers and locals who were out on the course, cheering us on. While the scenery is undeniably stunning, what really makes the race stand out is the people. This is a sentiment that I've heard echoed in every post race interview that I've listened to and this is where Peter’s advice was so wise. I tried to thank as many spectators and volunteers as I could along the course and with each thanks, I got some energy from that person. I had a little girl grab my hand as I was running into an aide station and she ran with me which was an incredibly powerful and uplifting feeling.
This support extended far beyond the trail. At one of the early aide stations, a volunteer dropped a transmitter into my pack to monitor my progress, because I was one of the race leaders. While I didn't appreciate the extra 80 grams at the time, this transistor was tweeting and Faceboking my position along the course and my wife was keeping people posted online. I heard after the race that my mom in Canada, Lauren in Switzerland, my brother Matt in Bangkok and my dad in Nigeria (yes, I have a very international family) were all on Skype and extending the news of how my race was unfolding to their various networks. It was amazing to retrace the digital footprints after the race and to see how my race unfolded online as I ran along the trail. It's a true testament to the value of technology at modern mountain races.
As the hours of running ticked by, I felt fairly consistent, but smiling became harder and harder. The Salomon team, who were crewing for me out on the course, were a well oiled machine and contributed immensely to my performance on the day. The ease with which they helped me restock my supplies and their encouragement was a huge boost.
I really began to suffer about 7 hours into the race and essentially had to hike the 5 km, almost 5,000 foot soul crushing climb out of Martigny (****a detour not on the original route). My quads were beginning to feel a bit shot and my stomach wasn’t liking gels so much at that point. Still, the crowds helped me move forward and I was getting feedback that “everyone was looking as bad as me,” which was somewhat comforting.
Once again, I nursed my way through this section, as I struggled with the fact that I was walking so much. Although I lost more time to the race leader, I gained time on those behind me, which offered some comfort, so I settled into making sure that I could hold it together to the finish.
I kept it very basic, eating as much of a gel as I could every 20-30 minutes, although I was getting a bit sick of its consistency. I kept thanking spectators and convincing myself that it was cool that with each step I took, I was setting a new milestones in my running both in length of time that I’d been running and in the distance that I’d covered.
Finally, as I made my way into the last check point, the skies began to open up and the rain began to fall as the sun was setting. I didn’t really know how far I had to go to the finish line, but I decided to push as hard as I could. I didn’t allow myself to walk more than 10 steps, before I forced myself to at least try running. I was feeling depleted and sorry for myself, which was made worse when a spectator told me that two guys were making up time on me behind me. This was a great reminder that spectators, although nice to have out there, aren’t always the most reliable when it comes to splits and placings, since I found out later that this was far from true. Still, it lit a little fire under my ass and I began to chase the setting sun. I really wanted to beat my way out of the woods before it got dark, because all I had were two very ineffective headlamps (to save weight).
I was running in an exhausted state, in an absolute downpour at this point, on increasingly dark trails, as the temperature dropped, with no idea how far I had to go and was being chased by two imaginary demon runners behind me who were trying to steal my hard earned second place. It was all a bit surreal, but I also started to feel quite good again and was rolling along the dusky trail quite smoothly. I knew that with each step I was getting closer and I could see more and more twinkling lights from cabins and houses along the valley, which acted like a runway and I knew that I was almost in town.
As I felt the trail start to head downhill and I popped out of the forest and onto the town streets, I could hear the announcer calling me forward. I pictured the crowds in town and I ran towards them as fast I could. Once I finally hit the café lined streets, I knew I was home free and basically floated the last 800 meters to the finish, trying to give as many high fives as possible and soak it all in. I caught some familiar faces in the crowds, which really lifted my spirits.
I crossed the line in 10:29:35 and was so grateful to everyone that was there, standing in the pouring rain and applauding my finish. It was a very special feeling and one that I won’t soon forget.
After the pomp and circumstance, I was whisked away for more doping tests, still on a high. I was still in my soaked race kit, the rain was pouring and it was cold. Once I was done my testing, I suddenly came out of my high and felt like I was hit with a brick. I began to throw up the tea that I was given and I began to shake from the cold. I somehow made it back to the lobby of my hotel and passed out at the reception. Next thing I know, I’m being carried up the stairs and put in a hot shower, where I continued to throw up. I think that my body was in shock from becoming so cold after the race effort.
I then crawled to a couch and slept for about an hour. I was then woken up by some serious hunger pangs that were cramping my stomach, but at least I felt more stable at this point. I went down to the lobby and the lady at the front desk went out and bought me the best tasting steak frites sandwhich that I have ever eaten. I then proceeded to lie awake all night, my system too wired to sleep, but feeling incredibly satisfied and a bit overwhelmed with what had happened

___________________
Gear I used:

Arc'teryx Accelero cap
Arc'teryx Motus singlet (custom)
Salomon Exo Slab team shorts (2012)
Salomon Exo socks (2012)
Salomon XT wings Slab 4 shoes(regular)
Modified Salomon XT Advanced Skin 5 Slab pack

Mandatory gear (every athlete must carry this gear & it is checked along the course):
- mobile phone with the international roaming option for the three countries-iPhone 4 (too heavy)
- personal beaker minimum 15cl (gourds excluded)-cut the top off of a Capri sun drink
- water reservoir, 1 litre minimum- 1 litre bladder with no tube (I used a handheld)
- two torches in good working order with spare batteries- 1 Petzl e+lite & 1 Black Diamond Ion headlamp
- survival blanket - standard one cut this down
- whistle- on the e+Lite headlamp
- self- adhesive elasticised bandage usable either as a bandage-regular from drugstore
- food reserve-30 GUs in vanilla, chocolate, Choc-mint & 5 Roctanes, 2 packs of Clif shot blocks, lots of Coke & water (probably only actually ate 22-25 gels)
- jacket with hood-Arc'teryx Squamish
- long running trousers or leggings or a combination of leggings and long socks which cover the legs completely- Arc'teryx Incendo 3/4 & Salomon Exo Calf guards
- warm long sleeved clothing (type "second layer", cotton excluded) of a weight of 180g minimum-- Arc'teryx Phase SL
- cap or bandana-Suunto/Salomon Buff
- warm hat-Arc'teryx RHO LTW Beanie
- warm and waterproof gloves--surgical gloves + Arc'teryx gothic
- waterproof over-trousers-Arc'teryx Alpha SL

***The course was modified from this original course, due to dangerous conditions and some rock falls, but it gives you a general gist of the profile

iRunFar Chat

2011-08-30T14:14:00.000-07:00

I did a video interview with Bryon Powell of iRunFar.com on Sunday. His website is definitely the top site for American ultra running news and he's quickly developing an international reputation as well. He also happens to be a handy runner himself.
He has some fantastic and very inspiring interviews up on his site, so I'd encourage you to check them out here

There were lots of people out filming the course and I gave a few "on the fly/walk" interviews in french along the route. Here's one from Union Running World, a site run by a gentleman who was nice enough to keep giving me splits and feedback along the course. My blurbs are sprinkled throughout, but it gives you a good feel for the start and parts of the course (I'm at approx. 3:35; 6:09; 8:19; 10:45; 13:48)

Also, here's a clip of me deliriously saying some words in French at the finish line (at approx. 1:46)

CCC 2011 : Les Vainqueurs /// The winners... by UltraTrailMontBlanc

CCC & done

2011-08-27T07:41:00.000-07:00

I finished 2nd at the UTMB CCC yesterday. It was a beautiful and brutal race and an experience that I haven't quite digested yet. I'll write a more detail race report later, but for now, here's my finishing pic. Thanks to everyone for all the kind words and congratulations, it really means a lot.

Photo Dump

2011-08-23T09:11:00.001-07:00

I don't have internet, so blogging and internet time are at a minimum, which is a nice shift for my usually over-connected self. I moved to Chamonix and have been hanging out in the local scene. It really is a who's who of international mountain ultra running and it's been hard not to get out into the inspiring mountains for hours on end the way I want to. It's also good though, because I'm banking some energy and my desire to get out and explore the local mountains is building by the day. I know I'll get my fill on Friday!

Here is a collection of photos from my my last few days in Davos, my trip over here and a fun run hike with a big crew yesterday on a very hot Cham day.

Competition

2011-08-16T23:52:00.001-07:00

"You have an idea of yourself and it can be quite a shock when you don’t come up to your own expectations. If you just tootle along you can think you’re a pretty slick bloke until things go wrong and you find you’re nothing like what you imagined yourself to be. But if you deliberately put yourself in difficult situations, then you get a pretty good idea of how you are going… And if you did blow it, at least there wouldn’t be that great unknown. But to snuff it without knowing who you are and what you are capable of, I can’t think of anything sadder than that."

Mo Antoine, from Feeding the Rat

I just saw this quote over at Rumon Carter's blog & appreciated the sentiment. It describes my feeling about toeing the line and the lessons learned from racing Sierre Zinal on the weekend perfectly.
I'll admit that along with being intrigued about how I'd fair, I was also a bit nervous. I consider myself a good trail runner, so toeing the line with some of the best mountain runners in the world, on a historical mountain course, was always going to be an eye opener and very revelatory about my true abilities. The race did not disappoint. It was steeper, faster, deeper and more challenging than I expected.
It's my first long trail race where I've been in contact with runners, battling for position, the entire time. It reminded me a lot of a very competitive x-country race (a brutally hard one).
The opening leg reduced me to power hiking for a lot of it and once we got to the rolling section, at around 2,200m elevation, I had problems opening up my stride the way I should have. This was a combination of not being properly acclimated to the altitude and fatigue from the grueling climb and a fairly heavy week of training.
I had to settle for a bit of a monotonous speed on the day, feeling like I had a governor on my effort, but still moving at a decent clip. I was fine when the terrain mellowed, or started to head down and my heart and lungs weren't as much a factor and actually rolled very well over the super steep technical descent into town, which resulted in a lot of quad carnage and skinned knees for the over 3,500 participants.
The entire race we were running past spectators and having to force our way past thousands of "tourist" participants who left earlier in the day. Much like in the Tour de France, they would step aside at the very last second, allowing you to pass, cheering with words of encouragement like "hop hop" & "courage". It took a lot of confidence not to slow down, thinking that I would cream some little kid, or hiker with trekking poles, as we danced our way through surprisingly technical boulder fields, trying to race the packs of runners around me.
I was impressed with the power and speed of the frontrunners on both the steep stuff and the rolling terrain and it was a great reminder that I need to stay on top of higher intensity efforts and that I'm still not quite strong enough to compete with the best on a true mountain course of this distance. I definitely need to spend more time hammering up steep terrain! The race and level of competition deserves serious respect and likely some more specific preparation. It's definitely a style of racing and a course that rewards experience, so toeing the line is probably the best form of prep possible.
I ended up 28th, running 2:59:15 and won 100 Swiss francs for breaking 3:00 hrs. This covered almost all my travel for the trip and is more than I have ever won at a trail race, so I really have no regrets for making the long trek, 6 hours there by train. They must have given out a lot of money at the race, if 28th was worthy of some coin. On top of the prestige, it's no wonder they consistently attract such stellar international fields.

The race organization was indeed top-notch. I was given a free apartment to myself and my pre-race meal was as good as expected. I was invited to dine at the restaurant of Didier de Courten, a two-Michelin star chef and a handy runner himself and he made a special "Sierre Zinal" racer dinner, which was by far the best pre-race restaurant meal that I have eaten.
I also met some of the US running contingent, as well as some European runners and organizers.
The whole experience reminded me just how amazing the opportunities and unexpected encounters can be with international racing and I'm very glad that I took the blind leap of faith and made the trip down there.
I not only got in a much harder run than I ever could have done on myself, ticking off a bucket list race and learning a tonne about mountain running, I also expanded my network in the trail running world. All in all, a perfect weekend.

Up next is the Courmayeur Champex Chamonix (CCC) at the UTMB race weekend in Chamonix. It's a 100km mountain race, with 5600 m of ascent & about the same descent. It's supposed to be a beautiful course and is obviously quite challenging.

My body is as ready as it's going to be and I can honestly say, it's as ready as it has ever been for this type & length of effort. I now have to spend the next 10 days getting in the right head space to tackle my longest and most challenging race to date. I can't wait!

Unfortunately, I've been watching Kilian's tips on how to prepare and am now feeling inadequate, like pretty much anyone else who's seen it:

There's No Better Training Than Racing

2011-08-12T22:57:00.000-07:00

After beasting myself on the local hills for the past 10 days, my motivation soaring and all my runs being very enjoyable, I decided that I should probably chill a bit on the running and absorb some of the fitness, or I risked digging myself a bit of a hole for CCC. It's going to be a hard race and it's easy to overdo things going in to such a big effort. Unfortunately, I know myself and the sad fact is that I'm not always very good at resting.
I was reading some posts online and noticed that the world famous Sierre Zinal mountain race was happening this weekend. The 31 km SZ race, with 2,200m elevation gain and 800m loss, is regarded as one of the classic mountain races and I have heard wonderful things about the course, atmosphere and race organization from some of the few other North Americans who have raced there. The race is part of the Skyrunning World Series and runs more like a marathon, with the winners, some of the most highly regarded mountain runners in the world, running between 2:30-2:40 and the top-20 squeaking in just under 3 hours, so a good challenging effort. I figured that this would be an amazing opportunity to 1)experience the race; 2)force myself to rest for a few days, so I don't completely embarrass myself; 3)get in a good hard effort to get me ready for Chamonix.
So on Tuesday, I emailed the race, apologized for my last minute cold call and asked if I could still register. I immediately got an email back, saying that it would be great to have me, that they would comp my entry and that they had a homestay for me "with one of the best meals in town..a very famous chef who is also an exceptional runner." This sealed the deal and confirmed everything that I'd been told about the race organizers.
So I'm about to pack my backpack and hop on a train to Sierre for tomorrow's race. I've found some pop in my stride the last couple of days (thanks in large part to an unexpected visit to a naked co-ed spa-story for another day...) & I can't wait to toe the line at such a prestigious mountain run.
I hate the term "training race", since I find it undermines the importance of the race to the other athletes and I have no idea what they've been doing (training hard I imagine), plus, it has a built in excuse. I will say that there is no better training than a race, so I'm excited to have a go.

Here's what the race says on their website:

The race Sierre-Zinal (August 14, 2011, 38th edition), also called the Race of Five 4000m Peaks, is considered to be one of the finest mountain races in the world. It was once written that it is to mountain races what the New York Marathon is to marathons. It is the oldest mountain race found in its category in Europe's mountains. Sierre-Zinal, which takes place in the heart of Valais' Alps, offers its participants a significant challenge: distance - 31 km, 2200m ascent and 800m descent. Incredible scenery, a warm atmosphere and exceptional organisation explain the success and longevity of this challenge. As Jonathan Wyatt (record holder of both Sierre-Zinal and the Jungfrau Marathon, as well as a multiple world mountain racing champion) wrote, «As a mountain racer you must experience the tradition and history of this race.»

Here's the course profile:

Feet in the clouds-snowy August run

2011-08-10T06:26:00.000-07:00

Local Legend-For a rainy day

2011-08-09T07:41:00.000-07:00

I had never heard of John Lenihan, but it sounds like he has been an Irish Mountain Running legend the last 2 decades.

He is famous for winning the Carrauntoohil race in Kerry on 19 occasions and holds the current record of 71 minutes 43 seconds and was the World Mountain Running Champion in 1991. He also hosts some nifty road PRs (13:55 5k & 1:03:50 1/2).

As a dairy farmer, his story sounds like a classic man of the hills upbringing and he has the necessary long hair, which seems to help be successful in the sport.

Every community, group of individuals and small town has a local legend. I have a strange fascination with these local legends. I admire their perseverance, quirkiness and success in a attracting attention in niche ways. Attention isn't normally their goal starting out, in fact, a good local legend will scoff at the mention of attention, but, they also partly embrace it, by living up to expectations, building on their quirkiness or excesses, or just not giving a crap and getting on with what they do.
As seems to be the case here, their recognition often comes from a single minded focus, over a number of years, to a particular and often fringe aspect of life. I think people admire this dedication.
Their legend acts as a local reference point, something or someone that people can compare themselves to and bond over. They are frequently the point of discussion and gossip of pub conversations as their stories get told and embellished ad nauseam, building on the legend. However, it is often hard to explain to an outsider exactly why this persona and their accomplishments is so revered, because their story is so entwined in local landmarks and references.
I would have to say that crazy Nik "you can call me Southy" Southwell is the legend amongst our friends. His body morphing/shape shifting abilities, his amazingly crazy adventures, his prowess with the ladies and his life story have been the topic of conversation over many a beer. He has also dragged us on some unexpected and always memorable "redneck days" and is the sort of friend that you want in your corner when things go south. Unfortunately, I can't get into detail about Southy stories, they likely wouldn't have as much impact outside of of our group of friends without the proper context, although they are all incredible and would make for a great tale if told properly.

In this case, local fascination with John Lenihan lead to a three-part, 2-hour long, series on him, which I'm sure is quite interesting. I plan on plugging away and watching it over the next 2 weeks and figured I'd share it.

John Lenihan - My Memories (Part 1) from Terrace Talk on Vimeo.

John Lenihan - My Memories (Part 2) from Terrace Talk on Vimeo.

John Lenihan - My Memories (Part 3) from Terrace Talk on Vimeo.

Self-indulgence

2011-08-06T04:59:00.000-07:00

I did another beauty of a run from the valley up to 3,000m, running along a ridge that links 5 summits. This has been a very stellar week of mountain running and my inspiration is at an all-time high.
I find it amazing that a week ago I was so stressed from exams that I was breaking out in acne and not sleeping, and a week later I'm fully rejuvenated, sleeping like a baby and enjoying my mountain outings like never before.
I do feel like an egomaniac for posting all these "self-portraits," but since I'm running alone, above the cows for most of this run, I'm the only subject that I can incorporate into the scenery. Other than leaving a series of Inuksuks, or stone cairns, along the way, I guess it's also proof "that I was there."

Run to Pischa

2011-08-05T02:24:00.000-07:00

This is a land that wants to be photographed. Inspired by yesterday, I took my camera along on my morning run today. I set off to climb Seehorn, the mountain overlooking the lake outside my door, but I decided to turn right instead of left at the saddle and set off for Pischa instead. I didn't have any food or water with me, so was a bit limited as to how far I wanted to explore.
I definitely pushed the limits of my reserves, but was rewarded with more amazing sights and a spectacular run.

Steep drop off into the valley, narrow trails and intimidating rock

Panorama from the ridge

Summit and surrounded by peaks

The three amigos keeping an eye out-proof that the local cows are grass fed.

Looking back down to Davos and up the valley to Pischa

Summer hut

Swiss road block

A walk in the hills

2011-08-04T09:38:00.000-07:00

I'm not much of a hiker, but sometimes a walk in the hills can be good for the soul. Lauren and I hiked in to the Grialetsch hut from Dürrboden on a perfect Swiss summer afternoon today and we both enjoyed the views along the way.

Time for a haircut? Nah...

2011-07-31T01:45:00.000-07:00

Art by Shel Silverstein, Playboy, September 1963 issue (Pic found here)

Freedom of the hills

2011-07-29T22:39:00.000-07:00

I finished the exam, my desk covered with the shrapnel of materials that we had to apply, grabbed a celebratory beer with my classmates and then hit the hills. It was the perfect detox from a rather stressful week.

Through the storm

2011-07-28T10:57:00.000-07:00

"Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.

And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.

And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about." —Haruki Murakami in Kafka on the Shore

Although he can be a bit bleak, Haruki Murakami is also highly quotable and I enjoy his way with language. He also happens to be a runner. He claims to have run every day while writing the book that I took the quote from. He has written about his obsession with running in "What I Talk About When I Talk About Running." A book that I enjoyed at times, but wouldn't rave about.

I like the above quote, because it reminds me that even rough patches, which I am definitely feeling at the moment, are transformative and have an end point. This spin on them makes them easier to swallow.
His other applicable quote from Norwegian Woods: "Don't feel sorry for yourself. Only assholes do that" is also sound advice.

Busy buzzy mind

2011-07-26T16:05:00.000-07:00

I have a rather busy mind at the moment. I'm in the middle of a week of writing my qualification exams required by the BC Law Society to be called to the BC Bar.
Since these exams are a required step in the process of becoming a lawyer in the Province, something which my family, friends, articling firm and I have invested a lot of time, energy and money into over the past few years, I will admit to feeling pressure about the outcome.
However, as with all preparation, be it training or studying, I also need to give myself enough time to process what I'm learning and let it sink in. It is at times like this when things can quickly become overwhelming and I have a hard time turning off my busy buzzing mind. This is where running comes in.I have had a great few weeks of "training" and am getting exciting about my upcoming race in Chamonix and time in the Alps, but this week, running isn't about training, it's about quieting my mind.

As things become more stressful, I find it increasingly important to live by Lizzy Stewart's mantra" "Find some place to stop and be quiet".
Although running may seem to be the antithesis of "stopping", and my heavy breathing and footfall are not always quiet, I don't interpret her message literally.
I'm a physical person, so activity is my way of appreciating the world around me and it is also very meditative for me, so although it may seem contradictory, running is where and how I "stop & be quiet"

(FYI, yes, I just liked the poster, but felt silly just stealing someone else's work without making a comment and since people that read this blog also generally relate to running, or being outdoors, I figured I'd try to relate it back to my current experience. It's what blogs are for no?)

Looks like a nice place to go for a run

2011-07-21T09:55:00.000-07:00

The Hardrock 100 is a brutally hard, but equally beautiful 100 mile mountain run in the rugged San Juan mountains of southwest Colorado. The course has approximately 34,000 feet of ascent and 34,000 feet of descent at an average elevation of 11,186 feet and a high point of 14,048 feet (Handies Peak). The run starts and ends in Silverton, Colorado and travels through the towns of Telluride, Ouray, and the ghost town of Sherman, crossing thirteen major passes in the 12,000' to 13,000' range.
Although the course is marked, it is minimally flagged and runners often lose time to going off course. The race is also notable for its numerous stream and river crossings, made even more frequent this year due to the heavy snow pack.
Joe Grant has a good race report and first hand experience of his 6th place run at this year's race over at his wonderful blog.
The race was won by French Salomon athlete Julien Chorier and, as per usual, Salomon has a nice video showing the terrain and some of the competition. This race has quickly climbed my bucket list.

Knee Knacker 2011

2011-07-15T11:37:00.000-07:00

Photo by Mark Bates

Four of us are standing around, knee deep in the chilly northern Pacific Ocean, trying desperately to offset and numb the pain in our legs. We can barely feel the crushed rocks and shells under our feet. Salt is crusted on our faces and jerseys, we all look a dazed, squinting into the sun that’s bathing the cove, as our bodies struggle to come back into balance.
We’re mumbling inanely, wrestling with our incoherent and tired thoughts, but happy to no longer be trapped in our internal monologue. We chatter away about our experience over the last 5 or so hours with the only people who can understand. We share future plans and talk loosely about our personal lives.
“I’m never doing that again…” said Aaron, he looks pale. “I don’t think I enjoy it!”
“Yeah, whatever,” I answer, knowing fully well that those words are the finish-line mantra of any challenging race. With this race being so hard, you hear it a lot.
We all join in on the chorus: “I’m not doing it again either!” and we laugh, knowing it’s a lie.
A year later, 30-miles down the road, and many more miles run and raced, I jog around, trying to wake up and to ward off the morning chill that’s sapping my emaciated frame.
I catch sight of Aaron, Ollie, Tom, Dirk and many other familiar faces. I also see lots of strangers. We all share the same knowing look “I knew I’d see you here”, accented with a hint of “I can’t believe I’m about to go through that again.”
Despite the pending discomfort, we’re all also excited. We’ve trained hard, under every possible condition, and we respect that about each other. Although we don’t run together often, we’re surrounded by the small group of people who have endured a similar preparation leading up to that morning, so we understand each other. It’s that commonality that breeds respect. We may run at different speeds, at different times of day and cover varying weekly mileage, but the essence of what we do and what we are about to endure is the same.
We line up obediently behind the line, like we have hundreds of times over the years, trying to repress nervous thoughts and focus in on the dark, cold trail in front of us. Suddenly, we’re running. Most of us shoot off at too quick a pace, the veterans holding back, knowing that these early miles are just for showboating and not for winning. I take the lead.
Despite having run more that week than I normally would for a race this challenging I feel rested and strong. I pull away from the field and begin to narrow in on myself. I run through my mental checklists, listen to my breathing, trying to gauge the effort and relaxing every muscle that doesn’t help move me forward. I feel good and I begin to pull away.
I see a few odd friends on the trail and make some incomprehensible comment. It’s darker than I remember from last year. The trail feels soft and is beautiful in its suffocating lushness.
I follow the colourful ribbons marking the course, but don’t really pay attention to them. I’m trying to let time pass, there’s a long way still to go. I’m conserving my thoughts and focus for the hard sections to come. I extend my lead. I can no longer hear or see anyone behind me as I glimpse back through the trees.
I know that Aaron started out more conservatively, but I expected him and Ollie to begin to chase and eventually catch me, that’s how it happened last year. The trail moves up and runs through a dry creek bed. I shorten my stride, trying to get power from my glutes and move my feet as quickly as possible. I have to hike up a few of the bigger rocks, but I’m moving well and my breathing is under control. I trust my fitness and I continue up.
The trail levels out and weaves it’s way through the trees. The going is easy and I feel like I’m dancing my way along the brown ribbon of dirt. I start to eat and drink, fuelling for later. Distance racing is all about planning now for later.
I glance at my watch, I’ve been running for 30 minutes. Still no one behind me. I know the trail begins to shoot up soon. I realize I haven’t seen any flagging for a bit, so I look around. I see some up the trail, so I chase it. It doesn’t feel right, but I plow forward. I see more flagging, still, it doesn’t feel right. I don’t remember what colour the previous markers were. These ones are orange. They take me down a path, it’s too narrow and too overgrown, I stubbornly forge forward. That’s what you do in a race. Suddenly, I stop. This isn’t right. “Fuck, where the hell am I?” I ask the trees. “Where the fuck is the trail?” I look around and I can’t see any other runners. I backtrack and begin yelling “Yoohoo…yoohoo”, someone yells back. I look at my watch, 5 or 6 minutes have passed. “Shit!” I get a bit frantic. I hustle back onto the trail and pass someone. “Adam Campbell, what the hell are you doing back here?” he asks as I pass him. “I’m an idiot,” I answer. “What place are we in?” I ask, “12th or 13th” he answers. “Ah shit” I say and I pick up my stride.
I’m rushing, pressing too hard. I try to slow myself down. I remind myself that I made a mistake, a big one, but there’s lots of racing to go. I’m also a realist and know that you can’t give Aaron and Ollie any breaks. I respect them too much. I have to try, so I hustle patiently. I want to get back to the front. It becomes my single-minded focus. I stop paying attention to my surroundings. I make a few more wrong turns, but am pulled back on track by the wiley veterans that I have begun to pass. They shake their heads. I know what they’re thinking “youth.” I may be faster than them at this stage in our lives, but their experience is what counts and is worth more than its weight in fitness. I chastised myself and try to be more methodical. I remind myself to keep eating and drinking and I try to calm down.
The trail has opened up and I can see colourful jerseys up ahead. I’m closing on them, but I can’t see Ollie and Aaron. I catch on to the back of a group of three masters runners, including Mark and Peter. They are huge inspirations and wonderful runners. I can only hope to keep going at their level for years to come. However, they are not who I should be running with at this point in the race, so I press on.
The route is hard to find through all the snow. I’m still a bit frantic and flail to find my footing. Snow bridges collapse under my foot and I posthole several times, I find myself on my back. It doesn’t hurt, so I bounce up and resume my chase. Everyone is struggling on the slippery and unpredictable surface. I’m still frantic.
I convince myself that these conditions suit my small nimble frame. It’s awkward going, but I believe this argument and it lifts my spirits. Then, I’m on my back again, that one hurt. I spring up and begin to flail downhill on the soft surface. I begin to have fun. It’s wreckless and I go down a few more times, but it’s what I signed up for and I’m enjoying myself for the first time in a while.
Suddenly, I catch sight of a white singlet up the trail-“Goctha!” I think. I know it’s Ollie. He doe not look like he’s enjoying the snow. He’s feet are splayed and his stride is choppy. Not the same runner who can crush me at a road 10km.
We leave the snow momentarily, the dirt feels abnormally hard and jarring. It’s nice to extend my stride, but Ollie finds his normal form too, instantly a different runner and pulls away. We run to the aide station and I hear people yelling numbers, I assume they are splits. I work unnecessarily hard to catch the white jersey. It’s all I see.
I hear that Aaron’s two minutes up the trail. I can deal with that, but I realize that I’ll have to hurt myself to catch him. I think back to last year where I closed over 5 minutes on Aaron in the last 10 or so kilometers as his body failed. I doubt I’ll be so lucky this year. Still, I want to run with him, so I chase. It’s my only hope.
We run back onto the snow and I’m almost at Ollie and down I go again. The snow has caught my foot. “Fuck that hurt.” I take a few gingerly steps on my wonky ankle. It’s been giving me grief for the past month or so. “No, not the ankle” I think. I walk a bit, then I limp, then gradually put more weight on it, “I’ll be alright,” I tell myself. I get more confidence in the joint and roll back up to full speed. It doesn't hurt, I hope it doesn't come back to bother me later on. It doesn't. Ollie has run away from me. So I press again. I want to catch him while we’re still on the snow.
Finally, I get my hooks into his jersey and pull myself onto his shoulder. The snow ends and the ground is hard again. “Yes,” I think. It’s a small, buts significant victory. We yo-yo back and forth. He doesn’t look comfortable. I ask if he minds if I pass him, he obliges and steps aside.
I start to chase Aaron. My quads are screaming at me as I run hard off the mountain. I try to dance across the rocks and roots, but it’s definitely a drunken frat boy dance, more clumsy than graceful. Like a frat boy at a party, I know the dance likely won’t end well, but I enjoy the pace. I’m proud of myself that I’ve finally learned to run on technical downhills. I run too hard.
After descending 800 or more meters of the mountain, my legs don’t feel great, but my energy is good. We’re approaching halfway. Lots of racing to go.
Ollie is hanging on, but I know I’ve hurt him. He’s not running with me. I run through the aide station and try to be efficient. I hear various reports about how far ahead Aaron is. It ranges from 90 seconds to 2 minutes. I’m happy to hear this, so I continue the chase.
We run up the only significant stretch of road back to the trail. I try to press, but remain patient. Ollie is closing on me, but never catches me. Intuitively, I know I’ve beaten him if I can get to the trail first. I do.
As we move along this third quarter of the race, I realize my legs are tired and I’m no longer dancing. I stumble a bit. I try to eat and drink, but the fluidity of my running is gone. I have to trust my fitness and strength to see me through. I know Aaron is pressing up ahead. I don’t think I can catch him. My only hope now is that he beats himself. I still have that hope, so I chase.
Every 20 or so minutes I get reports about Aaron up the trail. The time keeps getting bigger. 3.5 minutes, 4, 5, then 7. Aaron’s not coming back unless he’s stopped by a bear, or injury. I don’t want to win that way. I focus on trying to hold myself together. Last year, despite winning, my body failed over the last 2.5 miles. I was crippled by cramping and was reduced to walking. It hurt and was embarrassing. I don’t want to feel that again this year.
I become methodical, nursing my way along the Baden Powell. Trying to keep myself moving efficiently and fast, while dolling out my effort with a view to the finish. I’m tired and sore. I become rude at aide stations when they aren’t ready for me. “Coke, e-Load” I yell, they don’t get it. I’m fumbling and frantic. “I need the fuel to survive and finish this fucker, don’t they understand that?” I think. I instantly feel guilty for my selfishness. They’re giving up their Saturday morning so that I can indulge in a ridiculous race. I want to apologize, but I can’t stop moving forward.
Gary Robbins is there, sharing his passion for the sport by cheering us on and sharing the race online. He was standing in the Ocean icing his legs with us a year ago. Now, he stands on the sidelines, his foot in a cast and on crutches. I feel sorry for him. The twinkle in his eye says it all, “I wish I was there.” He’ll be back next year and the years after that. He yells a split to me. It isn’t comforting. I hope he apologizes to the aide station crew for me. He understands.
“Only 75 or 80 minutes of running to go” I think. I tell myself it’s 85. It’s an age-old trick. Overestimate, so you have a reward when it doesn’t take so long. I’m playing mind-games with myself. I’m not moving as fast as I want to and I’m extremely tired, but my body’s holding together and I actually feel strong and coherent. This is a huge victory. I’m adapting to this style of training and racing.
I hold it together well and finish in a way that I’m proud of. Aaron kept distancing me and won by an impressive margin. He ran a smart and tough race. I learn later that two-days before he didn’t know if he could race due to a foot problem. He has nothing to prove, but my respect for him increases by another notch. He is a tough bastard and I know it. He overcame his struggles from last year, learned from his experiences and ran a better race than me. He’s also classy and comes to the finishline as I’m crossing, with his son in tow. A good friend and a worthy winner. We chat a bit and wait for Ollie, who faced his own demons and body one more year. He finished third.
Gary and Lauren are also there and people are congratulating me. I’m initially disappointed that I robbed myself of the chance to go toe to toe with Aaron, but as my emotions calm and I reflect critically on the race, I forget that hiccup.
Aaron, Ollie and I wade back into the chilly waters and we continue our chorus from last year. “I’m never doing that again…until next year!” and we all laugh.

The results sheets lie and don’t reflect my actual race. There's a difference between looking at a results sheet and looking at how the race unfolded, they often tell you a very different story. Yes, I'll admit that I wanted to win this year. I felt like I got lucky last year and wanted to prove myself, but that was only one small and difficult goal. In my opinion, my race went better than it did last year when I won. I was slower this year, but so was the course. If I subtract, even conservatively, for my time lost and the slower snow conditions, I ran a relatively faster race. More importantly, my body held together better and I ran almost every section, except the start, faster than I did last year and felt much more comfortable doing it. Plus, I was able to push quite hard for a long time without completely blowing at the end. I also feel like I was mentally stronger throughout the day and my nutrition was better. All of these are huge steps in making me a better ultra runner and they give me a huge confidence boost to my other big races coming up later in the summer.
I still need to work on being more patient and starting a bit more conservatively. It's a fine balance when you're gunning for the win in a relatively competitive event.
Thanks to all the volunteers, aide station workers, spectators, trail crew, race sponsors and organizers. I apologize for seeming ungrateful and even possibly rude, as I ran past. I’m not myself when I race and I do appreciate that your time and effort is what allows us to indulge our passion. Races wouldn’t happen without all of you, so thank you.

I finished 2nd, in a time of 5:06:48
My splits were:
3 1:27:47 1 (1:05:46) 2:33:33 2 (1:13:16) 2 3:46:49 2 (1:19:59) 2 5:06:48

Here are my splits from last year:
1:18:37 (1:06:13) 2:24:50 (1:13:14) 2 3:38:04 4 (1:20:09) 1 4:58:13

All photos from the Knee Knacker page

Work by others- Divine Discontent

2011-07-14T09:40:00.000-07:00

I just saw the term, "Divine Discontent" over on Rappstar's blog and I really enjoyed the message.

I find the term very apt, since it conveys the constant push and pull that I feel about competitive running. Running is my passion, but it also produces incredible guilt and dread within me and is an aspect of my personality that often leaves me on the fringe of non-sporting social circles. There's a reason that my wife and closest friends are athletes, we are social misfits together.
There are few areas of life that provide the same sort of accountability as a race course. You cannot hide from the result sheet, or a time on the clock. It tells you exactly how good you were on that day, at that moment. It can be brutally honest. I appreciate that honesty.
I would be happy doing daily runs and exploring new terrain, and that is definitely a significant motivation, but races have a different appeal. Truth be told, I have a love hate relationship with them, but I always come back for more.
I often feel selfish for heading out for my long runs, and can dread hard efforts on tired legs, but I head out anyway.
I don't always like the person that I become when I race. I can be aggressive and rude and I don't always appreciate the trails and views that I pass throughout the course, but I also love the feeling of striving relentlessly forward and I have a strong attachment to that other persona.
I race largely because of my desire to explore my limits and to see how good I can be at running and races are a great barometer of this. They are a mirror that reflect all the work, time and preparation that I put in.
In some cases, exploring my limits means trying to figure out a way of winning a race, in others, it's to accomplish a certain task or process, often as a step with a bigger goal in mind, like improving a race skill, working on nutrition, or getting fitter. In each scenario, there's a voice that chirps away in the back of my mind and the only way I can quiet it is to head out for a run, which I inevitably enjoy. I guess this is my "Runner's Calm".
Regardless of my motivation, the voice is the reason that I sign up for events and it's the same voice that gets me out on the trail on many days and I use the voice to talk myself through the dark parts of a race.
The feeling of pushing forward, preparing, training and racing has many fleetingly divine moments, when everything feels right and my choices are justified, but it is also a feeling that never last long enough and is one that I rarely satisfy. After I've crossed the finish line and I begin to reflect on the race and my preparation for it, there's always something that I could do better, a mistake to correct, a reason to sign up for one more race...a hope of extending that divine feeling.

This is a feeling that all athletes understand and is what puts us on the fringe of social norms, as Tanya Aldered conveys eloquently in a Daily Telegraph article:

"As adults, most of us don't win or lose in our normal waking hours ...We are all judged, but generally it is a matter of opinion rather than an incontrovertible truth. We forget the frustration of physically failing, of the unforgiving tick of the clock, and discovering that your rival is stronger, faster, fitter, better...But this is what athletes do all the time. No one always wins ...And yet they train endlessly in hope. What a daunting way to spend your life. No wonder so many of us gladly hang up the shoes of competition as soon as we reach adulthood. "

It's an aspect of myself that I still wrestle with, but it is also one that I have come to accept and appreciate over the years. It's my Divine Discontent.

Divine discontent is a term used by the New Zealand All Blacks rugby team, one of the best in the World. It means:

(...) that within us is the constant desire to be better, and it is a sacred gift. That if we refuse to settle for what we have, for the success we’ve reached so far, then we can become better versions of our mortal selves. If you aren’t happy with being a national semi-finalist, then make a change. If you aren’t happy with your role on this team, make a change. Let it begin with you. Don’t mistake this dissatisfaction with thanklessness or ingratitude or a want for vanity or selfish desires. It’s like a hallowed ember that’s constantly turning inside you; it includes a gratitude for what you have, but it’s accompanied by a drive to make it excellent, almost transcendent.

I’m not gonna lie to you, embracing divine discontent is not a short path to happiness. It’s torturous. That is unless you accept this internal discomfort as a sort of affirmation. And it will torment you until you come out the other side. It’s constantly trying to outdo yourself, and to challenge yourself not to become complacent. Imagine if you embrace this concept. Imagine how much better you can be.

Frankly, I believe this is the only way a person can come closest to his fullest potential. I leave it to you guys, but this team could be special. And our discontent could be a team-wide goal to be the best, both as an individual and as a unit. Remember, you are the team. Be relentless. Enjoy the suffering.

Recovery

2011-07-11T17:38:00.000-07:00

A few easy steps to recover from a long race (race report to come)

1-Eat good food and include lots of protein and fats

2-Go for walks

3-Catch up on chores and get outside

4-Sleep, nap and rest up

One minute chat

2011-07-08T16:55:00.000-07:00

I went up to Squamish after class yesterday to do a product video for Arc'teryx' new line of gear coming out next year. While I'm a better runner than actor, it's a fun experience and the Arc'teryx crew make it very easy to relax and really enjoy the shoot.
Like most of the brand's employees, the video and photography crew are all highly accomplished outdoor athletes themselves and you can tell how much they enjoy their work and being outside in the images that they capture.
After we were done with the "work" part, we did a brief catch up with what I've been up to. Here's the quick chat:

1min w Adam Campbell from ARC'TERYX on Vimeo.

Knee Knacker - Snake Bite

2011-07-06T22:43:00.000-07:00

Here's a draft of an article/story that I wrote for a magazine a few months ago. It wasn't published & it's very rough around the edges, but it will do for a blog post. It's my description of the Knee Knacker which takes place on Saturday. Although I'm looking forward to it, I also know how much of a challenge the race is, I guess that's why I'm going back.

(Knee Knacker homepage banner)

Take a moment and imagine a perfect ribbon of brown trail cutting through the woods. Change the woods and turn them into a claustrophobically dense rainforest, with impossibly large trees and branches hanging over the path. Now add a curve to the trail, make it a bit sharper and zigzag that pattern. Next picture a root snaking across the path, no, thicker than that. Now imagine that same snaking root, slithering in a different direction at repeated intervals down the ribbon of dirt. Throw in a bunch of rocks, boulders and logs into the rooty mix and add in the odd moss covered log bridge with missing planks. Soften the trail underfoot, with a combination of mud, mulch, streams and snow and tilt it all sideways from erosion. Take this tangled nightmarish mess and extend it along 30 miles, with a steep natural staircase running up, down and across three different mountains, with 8,000 feet of ascending, 8,300 feet of descending and you have the Knee Knackering Trail Run (“the Knee Knacker”), Canada’s “Knarliest” trail race. A surreal trail race experience that Salvador Dali would have dreamed up if he were a race director.

The race rewards athleticism, strength and endurance, as opposed to speed. The most nimble runners can dance their way along the course, skipping across the rocks and routes and floating their way up the climbs, but most runners trip, tumble and hike their way along the route.

Although the race can generously be described as rugged, it was inevitable that it would come to be. The point-to-point course runs from west to east along the picturesque mountains that frame Vancouver’s skyline. The course follows the Baden Powell trail, the main trail artery that links the North Shore mountains. The route jumps out at you from every part of the city and knowing the way trail runners think, there is little surprise that in 1989, eight adventurous souls would initially try to run the length of the course. The idea of running the Baden Powell was likely thought up over a beer, or during the idle chatter of a long Sunday run, with the question “Can it be done?” gnawing away at them until they decided to try. The race has grown from those first tentative steps into one of Canada’s best know trail races and the marquee event in the Vancouver trail running calendar.

The course splits neatly into four quarters, with the opening segment climbing 4,000 feet through the forest and along a scree slope with very large boulders. As the course description explains it: “You may be looking for hand holds to help you (although it is not rock climbing per se).” The reward of this opening grunt is spectacular city and ocean views from the bluffs at the top.

The second segment passes through the quickly melting snow and mud of the alpine, before the race earns its name, with a knee shattering 7.5 mile technical descent.
The third segment starts with the only paved section of the course, a mile long grunt of a climb that reduces most to walking, before traversing back along the mountains.
The final segment, is anything but a dash to the finish, with a 1,300 foot climb and a final plunge to the finish. The last 2.5 "downhill" miles to Deep Cove, is arguably the most tortuously long 2.5 miles of any trail. It mercilessly snakes its way up and down along a series of valleys with short, but painful climbs, as the siren song of the finish line announcer taunts you forward. Most people say that proper pacing and fueling are what see you through the final miles of an ultra. Having run the Knee Knacker, I disagree! Those miles are covered under the steady steam of swearing and cussing as you deal with a cramping and an achy body, while the most masochistic, or those with the greatest sense of denial, smile and laugh their way through the ordeal.

When the nightmare is over and the trail finally releases you from the thick canopy of green into a sun basked Deep Cove, you can only look back and laugh as you realize that you are snake bitten and addicted to the ride, starting an annual love-hate relationship with the race.

While I paint a disturbing image of the course, the race is incredibly well organized and is worth every ounce of pain that it inflicts. It is well marked, the aide stations are well stocked and most importantly, the crowds and volunteers are enthusiastic and loud. The race has such prestige and the trail community in Vancouver is so tightly knit, that it feels like everyone who doesn’t get in via lottery, volunteers their time to help with the race. There must be a 2-1 volunteer to athlete ratio along the route, all of whom lift your spirits through the rough patches and set the atmosphere for the entire event.

Like all good adventures should, the race concludes with a catered party/awards banquet, where battle stories and more than one war wound are shared over some hot food, cold beer and popsicles.

Cloudy snow

2011-06-30T08:00:00.000-07:00

The local peaks have been engulfed with clouds the past few months, with only a rare spotting of sun poking through. The alpine is also still largely blanketed with snow and although fun, it makes for dodgy running at times. Despite the recent lack of sunshine and warm days, and limited access to the higher regions, I have really been enjoying my running lately. It's been quite different from my traditional approach, with few specific workouts and a much greater emphasis on getting onto technical trails and logging vertical. The runs can take a while to cover relatively few miles, but the sense of adventure as I explore new tracks is invigorating.
This style of running is something that I never had access to in Victoria and adds greatly to my attraction to Vancouver. While I'm not sure the change of pace will necessarily make me a better runner, I don't doubt that once I adapt, that it will make me a better "mountain runner" and, most importantly, it is the style of running that gets me the most excited to run at the moment.
I'm sure that eventually I'll start back with at least one structured workout a week, because I do enjoy the feeling of running hard and fast, especially with a group, but, for now, I'm running largely by feel and ending almost every run feeling better than when I start, which is how it should be.

With all the snow in the hills, the bears are out to feed and play on the lower slopes and I've had a few, innocuous, run-ins with them. After the Western States 100 on the weekend, I consider bear management a critical skill in my ultra running arsenal, so I'm fine with the encounters. Congrats to fellow Brit/Canuck Ellie Greenwood on winning the race, finishing her first 100 miler and treeing a bear along the way. Congrats also to Salomon runner, Kilian Jornet on living up to the hype, running a stout race and becoming the first non-North American to win.

The Chilcotins video has been uploaded to the Arc'teryx Vimeo page. There are some great videos in their collection, so it's worh checking out. We live in a fascinating time, when videos and other creative media has never been easier to make and share. I will admit to using online sources for inspiration and have gone out the door for many a run after watching a clip, or listening to podcast, with a lighter step and a new perspective. I really appreciate everyone that takes the time to share their work, so I hope this video does the same for a few of you:

Adam Campbell Chilcotins run from ARC'TERYX on Vimeo.

South Chilcotins video

2011-06-22T19:34:00.000-07:00

Arc'teryx took me on a beautiful run in the South Chilcotins last summer and filmed the trip. There is now a video up on the company's webpage that you should check out-HERE .

I wrote an article in Canadian running on the region and also wrote a teaser blog after the trip last August that has some background info on my 8 plus hour run through the peaks and valleys of the Spruce Lake area.

Yes, I realize how lucky I am!

Runner's calm

2011-06-20T12:15:00.000-07:00

People often talk about the runner's high, but I'm more interested in the runner's calm. Although I can be straining & working hard while running, the fluidity and simplicity of the act, the places my feet take me and the conversations and thoughts that I have while out on a run has an incredibly calming effect on the rest of my life. This feeling of serenity and grounding that I get from running on trails and mountains is largely why I do it.

I just saw this wonderful, Joel Wolpert produced, video of Geoff Roes, arguably the best mountain ultra runner in world at the moment. I was struck by how Joel was able to capture Geoff's calm, unassuming and authentic demeanour. While he doesn't address it specifically and you could use a number of descriptors, such as spiritual, meditative, religious etc... to summarize the language that Geoff uses when he is talking about running-I'll argue that this clip profiles the runner's calm perfectly:

Running away from Struggle Street

2011-06-12T19:33:00.000-07:00

Lauren and I call rough training patches as being on "Struggle Street." They are a realty for all athletes. I think she got the term from Mirinda "Rinny" Carfrae, one of Lauren's 'besties' and a seriously tough and competitive athlete.

I've been on Struggle Street for the better part of 3 weeks. When I'm on Struggle Street, running feels awkward and forced, I can't go hard, I'm always tired, but sleep like crap, I feel like I've got a permanent, low grade cold and I wrestle with motivation. Although it's unpleasant, I've found over the years that there's not much I can do during these periods to hurry the process out of the lull.
Although I know it's just semantics, I stop thinking of my runs as training and start thinking of them as exercise. I find this shift allows me to be more flexible and easy on myself. I stop striving so much and I really try to listen to my body. Unfortunately, I'm not always a good listener and don't always heed my own advice or experience, which may be why this slump lasted almost 3 weeks.
Over the weekend, somewhere along the dirt service road heading up Blackcomb mountain, with snow banks towering above my head, peaks barely visible above the dirty white walls, I noticed that I had a bit more pep in my stride and I was enjoying the effort. I think I might have finally switchbacked my way off Struggle Street.

I also spent a few days last week hanging with the Salomon Canada crew who were in town for a sales meeting. I got to see some of the sweet new gear and kicks for next year and met a team of passionate and fun people who work behind the scenes to bring the product to stores across the country.
I joined in for a Salomon Hash run in Stanley Park, led by the one of a kind Munny Munroe and was wined and dined with some seriously good food at local eateries. I also finally got to see the famous Phil V Crossmax rig-doing Alberta and the brand proud.

Races in other places

2011-06-04T21:24:00.000-07:00

Zegama is a town in the Basque part of northern Spain. The most important sporting event in the town is the Zegama-Aizkorri Alpine Marathon, a brutishly steep and technical run on the Skyrunning circuit. Well worth checking out:

Zegama-Aizkorri 2011 from salerno stephane on Vimeo.

Words by others

2011-05-30T17:08:00.000-07:00

"In general successful athletes focus on performance/winning, and then look at the pathways necessary to get to that point. Many amateur athletes look at the pathways more than they do at the goal." By Will Gadd, a self-described and world renowned "multi-sport mountain athlete" from Canmore Alberta.
He has an interesting blog, where he often talks about training principles and his views on performance from a variety of angles. I've enjoyed his recent string of posts, where I saw the above quote.
The quote comes back to the point that a lot of people want to know the secret formula, magic pill, or short cut that make the elite stand out, when in fact, regardless of the sport, successful athletes are successful largely because of their drive and work ethic, which some might call a sport/training approach, plan, or philosophy, directed at well defined goals. This is the meat and potatoes of their success, the rest is mostly chaff.
Of course innate talent also helps, but it is not a golden ticket on its own. There are lots of supposedly "talented" athletes, but few successful elites.

In reading Will's blog, I'm also reminded that it's useful to cast your information net broadly. You can get a lot useful, interesting and generalizable information from a wide range of sources, so stay curious and move beyond your usual resources and websites from time to time, I'm sure you'll find something of interest.
In fact, I'll go as far as to say that passion for a sport, or any topic for that matter, can be measured by a person's level of curiosity in that subject. When they stop asking questions and looking for answers, then their passion has probably died.
Not all the questions and answers need to, or should, come from books, journals, blogs etc... they can also come from the curiosity of exploring ones personal limits and seeking out new experiences. I guess this curiosity makes up the, "look(ing)at the pathways necessary to get to that point", that Will references above.

Prayer flags and regrets

2011-05-27T17:06:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting at the desk in my basement suite, trying to read passages from the BC Law Society Professional Conduct handbook, but I'm more distracted by the rain outside. It's not that the various duties, responsibilities and ethical obligations of the profession don't interest me, quite the contrary, they do, because they form the basis for how I'm supposed to act and make decisions in my professional and personal life, it's just that the rain is really coming down, like it has for most of the spring on the coast and it's really loud.
The other thing that's distracting me, is a string of Nepalese prayer flags that I have hanging from the wall in my room. Rather than being a souvenir from a trip, or having a religious or spiritual meaning to me, the string is a reminder of a regret, which is why I have them in my room and not outside, where culturally, they belong (this opens a pdf doc). The string of flags also ties into my law school experience.
I've been spending quite a bit of time running in, around and up the North Shore mountains recently and the scenery and environment has reminded me how much I enjoy life in the mountains. Talking to Lauren in Davos and seeing her almost daily pictures of the Swiss Alps only reinforces that feeling. However the prayer flags remind me of a lost opportunity to experience the Nepalese Himalaya, arguably the ultimate mountain environment, in a very unique and significant way.
In 2007, I was invited by Jasper Blake and his wonderful family on a three week trek through Nepal to Everest base camp. What made the trip even more special, was that the team was going to help Pippa Blake, Jasper's mother, a kind, spirited and adventurous woman who is wheelchair bound with Multiple Sclerosis, live out her lifelong dream of visiting and trekking in the region with the help of a trail rider .
The team helping out formed the Rise Above Barriers Society and as a group, they would help push, pull, carry, laugh, cry, joke, walk, run, stumble, cough etc... their way through the foothills and up to base camp. Although I know the trek and effort was more challenging than many of them expected, with rugged terrain, lack of mobility, sickness and altitude all taking their toll, they persevered, made it base camp and helped a wonderful woman live out one of her dreams in a surreal setting. The trip was obviously very moving for all involved and has since inspired many other similar adventures. In sharing their journey through slide shows and media, they helped and encouraged disabled people to access the wild and remote places that they likely wouldn't be able to experience without a support network.
Upon his return, along with sharing stories and pictures, Jasper and other members of the team, brought me the string of flags now tacked to my wall.
Despite being honoured at being invited to share in the experience, I regretfully turned down the invitation. It was definitely not an easy decision and I knew what I would likely miss, but I was focused on getting into law school at the time and the trip would have interfered with my academic pursuits, delaying my entry.
Although I was able to get into school, achieving that goal, I can honestly say that I regret missing out on that experience every time I see the Blakes, hear of the region, or look at the prayer flags in my room.
As corny as it is to say, setting and achieving goals inevitably means making hard choices and perhaps some sacrifices along the way, but goals can also blind you to other opportunities, as was the case in this situation. I don't have many regrets, but missing this trip and, more importantly, the opportunity to help a friend is one of them.
So it's a bit ironic that I'm sitting here reading about professional and personal responsibilities, obligations and ethics in a handbook, when all I really need to do is to look at the prayer flags as a reminder of where my greater obligations should lie.

Run into the dawn

2011-05-18T14:18:00.000-07:00

I'm about to start the Professional Legal Training Course (PLTC), which the British Columbia Law Society requires articling students to take before being admitted to the provincial Bar. It can generically be called the provincial "bar exam course."
Because I'm articling in Vancouver, I've decided to make the move to the mainland early and am now slowly getting settled in my basement suite in the city. The course begins on Tuesday and I really don't have a good feel for how much time and work it will be, although the box of readings that I just picked up might give me some indication. This makes my immediate race schedule a bit unpredictable. What I do know, is that I will be doing quite a few morning runs on the UBC trails, which are about a mile from my front door, before school. Afternoons and evenings will be reserved for readings and trips to the North Shore mountains for more rugged vertical and trail jaunts.
I just saw this video, (courtesy of Joe Grant) which captures the simplicity and beauty of "dawn patrol runs" perfectly. I agree that early mornings on the trail can have a meditative and at times spiritual feel to them, there's no better way to start the day. I'm looking forward to my morning sessions already:

RUN TO THE EAST film titles from The Wilderness on Vimeo.

Running tunes

2011-05-12T12:09:00.000-07:00

Haven't done one of these in a while-"music with a running theme" (via Good People Run). Documentary following Jonny Corndawg, a touring country music singer who has been bitten by the running bug:

Stray Dawg from Sean Dunne on Vimeo.

Elk/Beaver Ultra-Canadian 50 Mile championship

2011-05-09T21:02:00.000-07:00

In 2001, with about 6 months left in my degree, I dropped out of university, packed all my belongings into a duffel bag and a bike box, left my girlfriend behind and flew across the country to pursue my Olympic dream with the National Triathlon Centre in beautiful Victoria, British Columbia.
I arrived with two of my training partners from Kingston, Ontario on a cold and rainy January night with no place to stay and no real plans about how I was going to make it work. We were met at the airport by Simon Whitfield who had recently won the first Olympic triathlon gold medal and to say I was star struck would be an understatement. He was already a Canadian sports legend and was the main impetus for why I made the move out west. When he offered to let me crash at his place for a few nights, I probably stammered an incomprehensible yes.
After a restless night of alternating thinking: "what the fuck am I doing here?" and "holy crap I'm sleeping at Simon's place" things became a fair bit more simple when it was time to head out for my first day of training with the big guys. Following a morning swim with the who's who of Canadian and International triathlon at the time and alongside a series of young, super fit, ambitious triathletes who had flocked to the then Mecca of triathlon like me, hoping that there was Olympic magic in the air and water. I quickly, and at times brutally, found out that there wasn’t.
After the swim, we put on our wet weather gear, laced up our shoes and ran over to Elk & Beaver Lake for my first soggy run on the We(s)t Coast. As we ran along the gravel trail framed with trees on one side and the lake on the other, dodging puddles and shooting shit, I knew that no matter what the outcome of my adventure might be, that I had made the right decision.
My girlfriend apparently forgave me and soon joined me across the country and quickly surpassed my athletic feats and is now an Olympian and my wife. Simon and many of the athletes in the pool that day are amongst my closest friends and have continued to excel. Over the decade since that first run, I failed to achieve my Olympic dreams, returned to school, completed my degree, and I have run countless laps of the 10 kilometer loop, both alone and with them, and I have enjoyed almost every step of the way.
Life has interfered in various ways with with my spring running and racing plans, so when I heard that Elk/Beaver Ultras was home to the ACU Canadian 50 mile championship, I knew that it would be a perfect place to race. Although running 8 loops of a mostly flat gravel trail would normally have very little aesthetic appeal to me, this course is somewhere where I feel very comfortable and I knew that this would help me manage the inevitable lows that accompany most endurance events.
The event is low key, with few bells and whistles, but boasts all the essentials to host a well-managed race for the 60 or 70 athletes toeing the line between the various distances. I also knew that it had the potential to be quite fast. My main concerns were that it might be too fast and too flat, lulling me into quick opening laps, which I have been known to do and the monotony of the terrain would take its toll as the kilometers rolled by.
After a strangely restful sleep the night before the race in my own bed, I drove the familiar route to the lakes as the sun was rising and I mentally prepared for what I expected to be a solitary day of running.
Following a few hellos and well wishes to familiar faces, the race got underway. In order to make up the extra 0.47 meters on top of the 8 * 10kilometer loops, we were sent on a short out and back along a side trail and then we began our laps.
Although there were a few fast starters, I never ran with anyone and just locked into my thoughts. To be honest, the day was incredibly uneventful. I enjoyed retracing the steps that I have made so many times over the years, but I never felt great and I never felt too bad. My right hip bothered me from about 30 kilometers on, but it was manageable. I just focused on running as relaxed a pace as I could, getting in calories (approx 2 gels per loop, 1 salt pill and coke/Gatorade after 40km) and setting short-term goals, either running form related or about the terrain, and allowing myself momentary celebrations for hitting distance milestones along the way to keep myself engaged.
My thoughts really were as simple as “eat, drink, turnover, relax, stop and pee, oh there’s Mel, great 2/5 of the way done (I am always calculating fractions of distances when I race) etc… “ This is in sharp contrast to all of April when I was locked indoors at my desk, immersed in books, journals, exams and paper writing. I very much enjoyed being in motion with all my focus directed at taking care of my basic needs to keep me moving forward.
As I predicted, it was inspiring and comforting to watch the rowers putting in their own hard yards on the lake under the rising sun and it was familiar to see all the fisherman along the shores and although I had to dodge quite a few walkers, their dogs, joggers, runners and fellow racers, I had expected it, so it never bothered me. I saw lots of people I knew along the way and running through the start/finish area every lap gave me a bit of pep in my stride, but I would try to catch myself from getting too carried away and the kilometers and the time ticked by.
Before the race, I thought that sub-6 hours would be doable and I wanted to run as comfortably as possible to hit that mark. I didn’t really think about what that meant split wise, other than the fact that running sub 45-minute laps would do it. As I ran through 40 kilometers I did a quick bit of math and after assessing my body, I told myself that I could try and pick the pace up at 60 kilometers if I was feeling good.
At 60 kilometers, I wasn’t feeling bad, but I wasn’t feeling great. My hip was still sore and I was a bit tired, so I kept the pace where it was and promised myself that I would reconsider in 5 kilometers. Those kilometers passed too and I was still feeling rather average, so I didn’t change anything and told myself that I would revisit a push at 70 kilometers. As I ran passed the aide station and start/finish area for one last loop I started out fast, but decided against a big surge after a few minutes. A quick look at my watch and I realized that I might actually be able to get under 5:45 if I was willing to dig deep, but I wasn’t, so I kept the pace as comfortable as I could be given where I was in the race.
Finally, with about 6 kilometers to go, I decided to listen to the advice that Ironman champion and my great friend, Jasper Blake texted me before the race: “Just go fast so you can get the fucking thing over with,” which is wise advice for any race, so I started to pick up the pace. I was able to wind things up and I started to race the clock home. I began chasing people that I could see up the trail, trying to catch and pass them as quickly as possible. Most of them were just out for their morning walks or runs, oblivious to the fact that they were now pawns in my internal race, but they helped me ignore the fatigue, so I kept trying to run them down.
Finally, as I pushed through the final windy kilometers of the lower Beaver lake trails, I began to run quite hard as I realized I might be able to break 5:44. I willed my legs to move as fast as they could to the finish area seeing 5:43:57-8-9 ticking over on the clock. The timers have me down as finishing in 5:44:00 and although I’m sure a photo finish camera would have me breaking 5:44, I can live with it.
And just like that, the morning was done. I had completed my first 50-mile race, I won the National championship and I later found out that I set a new Canadian 50 mile trail record, all of which are accomplishments that I am proud of, but the best part of the experience is just how quantifiable it is. All of my friends and training partners know Elk and Beaver lake, so being able to say that I have run 8 laps of it has a strange quirky appeal and I think I am just as proud of that as I am about the outcome of the race.
Thank you very much to Carlos "the Jackal" and all the volunteers, spectators and people I shared the trail with. It was a wonderful morning and another great experience at Elk Lake.

Here are my splits from the race
10.47K 20.47K 30.47K 40.47K 50.47K 60.47K 70.47K 80.47K
0:44:41 1:27:58 2:11:27 2:54:14 3:36:49 4:19:33 5:02:17 5:44:00

The most baller trophy ever

Proud, tired, anti-climatic...

Race directors do the heavy lifting

Words by others...

2011-04-27T11:53:00.000-07:00

"Exploration is the physical expression of the Intellectual Passion."

“And I tell you, if you have the desire for knowledge and the power to give it physical expression, go out and explore. If you are a brave man you will do nothing: if you are fearful you may do much, for none but cowards have need to prove their bravery. Some will tell you that you are mad, and nearly all will say, “What is the use?” for we are a nation of shopkeepers, and no shopkeeper will look at research which does not promise him a financial return within a year. And so you will sledge nearly alone, but those with whom you sledge will not be shopkeepers: that is worth a good deal. If you march your Winter Journeys you will have your reward, so long as all you want is a penguin’s egg.” – Apsley Cherry Garrard

The above quotes are from "The Worst Journey in the World", a book that National Geographic Adventure magazine rated as the best adventure book ever written.

While I'm not one for rating books, other than the general categories of dislike, like, really like and will re-read, I do find rating lists by others useful to help point me in the direction of what to read and the National Geographic list has introduced me to some entertaining books and many an escapist daydream.

With summer fast approaching, add a few of these books to your reading list. They can and likely will inspire you to travel far, or take up a micro-adventure, exploring your own backyard.