First 50 miler (er, 35miler)

A Day of Many Firsts

The first thing to come in this report is a massive thank you to my crew who got up with me at 3am, who waited patiently for me at the aid stations and had to deal with my anxious nerves before the race.  I could not have done it without you all.  Most notably Nicole, who sacrificed a lot to be there with me and had to listen to me talk about this race (and the plans surrounding it) nearly daily for the last few weeks.  Thank you so much, you are such a special person to me and it meant the world to me to have you there that day.

To spare any suspense, I pulled myself out of the race at ~56km mark at the 4th Line aid station due to lower back pain. I had been experiencing this discomfort sporadically over the last few weeks but decided not to think about it come race day and hoped that day it would be cleared up and would not affect me.

Ready to go!

Waking up and getting to the start line

The alarm was set for 3:15am but I could not sleep much longer. I checked my phone and it was 3am so I got up and started getting food (steel cut oats mixed with Sunbutter) and coffee going. I got up and noticed a little bit of back pain but chalked it up to the air mattress I slept on and figured some moving around would clear it up.  Nicole, Chad and Ryan got up with me and that labeled them as the true grinders of the day.  We headed over to the start around 4:15am from our campsite for the 5am start.  It was dark and quiet when we arrived and I found some people I knew (Emrys, Robin, Adam, Jason, Darren) which helped calm my nerves a bit.  I was ready to go.  I felt good and knew it was going to be a tough day but I didn't know how tough at the time.

The GRINDERS

The first loop

Once the race started, only about 50m from the start line we started experiencing mud and wet conditions. I thought: "it's just the bottom of the hill and it's just accumulating here. No big deal..."  As we hit The Grind, I was running/sloppy hiking the mud with Darren, chatting a bunch and the kilometers were clicking off nicely.  I thought to myself at one point: "this is all real now, you're running it. Just enjoy the day and keep plugging away!" and I did as we moved off The Grind onto the next section of much more run-able trail.  I could see the lead pack as I made my way through that section with a smile on my face.

I was feeling great, then suddenly my first problem: I took a trail in the wrong direction. I wasn't the only one either.  Me and three others took a right when we should have taken a left because the markers weren't clear there. I went off course probably 300m and realized I should go back and make sure I was on the right track. I saw the other three runners taking various trails as they went in the wrong direction too.  I had yelled out a "fuck!" when I realized my error and tried to regroup and keep going.  The four of us carried on, cursing that right turn.  We got strung out a bit during the next section as we plugged on.

The morning was beautiful for running, though quite warm out from the humidity.  The wooden bridges were slick from the moisture and mud on your shoes.  I slipped on one and jammed my shoulder into the railing, "whatever, it's not my legs," I thought. I got into Cruiser aid station and saw my crew there.  I was feeling really good and only stopped for a bit to get another handheld and ditch my headlamp.  The kilometers clicked off nicely, and soon enough I had covered over 20km.  Then we hit some pretty brutal sections - the Loree side trail was horrendously muddy and required a lot of hiking to try to conserve energy and get proper footing. This would pretty much be the story of the day: MUD.

I approached 30km with David Wise, an extremely nice man who I chatted with a lot and gained a lot of knowledge from. I had actually watched his video from the race last year too to get a better idea of the course and recognized his voice from it. I could feel some fatigue in my legs but nothing I wasn't ready for.

 

An amazing picture by David Wise with me coming up behind him after the we went the wrong way. He didn't get lost though! He helped me a lot out there too with tips

There were some decent climbs and descents, but I handled them well and approached another very muddy section.  You almost had to crawl up this steep section to get to the top. I was now getting close to 38km, the point I would see my crew again. A lot of rain in the week forced them to move the aid station and apparently for some reason did not allow the runners to go through the section where the drop bags were during the second pass of Cruiser. I'm still puzzled over this.

As I got to an exit from a trail onto a ski hill, I could hear voices. "This must be the aid station!" I thought.  As I got closer, I could hear the familiar voices of Chad and Nicole, talking with the people manning the aid station about when they expected me. "He should be here around 9am," said Chad. I popped out of the trail at 8:50am and said: "Are you guys talking about me?" and the crew and aid station people erupted with an "Ohhhh!!! There he is!"  This was one of my favourite moments of the race.  They all said I looked fresh, and Nicole put on Outkast's 'So Fresh, So Clean' as I previously requested.  I saw Kevin and Fiana there too for the first time which was great.  They all encouraged me to keep powering on and they would see me around 52km back at Cruiser on my second loop.  Little did I know my race would go downhill (figuratively and literally) from here.  We had a loooong descent to the bottom of the hill to start up the second loop from the 40km aid station called Blue Loop.  I tried to save my legs going down the hill and was doing a lot of bobbing up and down which I noticed was pretty taxing on my back.

The second loop

I had completed the first loop (40km) in ~4hrs and at this point the marathon runners were just starting. I wondered what The Grind would look like now that so many runners had been on it. I had my answer: insane mud.  It was crazy, and being stuck behind with marathoners forced me to slow and hike through the ankle-deep mud trying to keep my footing.  Several people fell on this section and I knew it would be a slow climb - my back was now starting to really get to me as I was hunched over trying to hike the switchbacks.  I popped out and saw Emrys again, and jokingly told him that I hoped I would survive. I was in significant discomfort on the descent on Scenic Caves Rd into the next section of trail.

Earlier in the race, this was where I felt amazing and positive. This time around it was the first time I had ever experienced the dark place, and tears flowed a few times as I started reflecting on how I thought I had failed my friends and myself and really just wanted to drop out at that point.  I told myself that I would just call it a day once I got to Cruiser again (at 51.2km mark) and saw my crew... but they had different plans for me.

Give me a friggin' chair please

As I arrived, I immediately wanted to sit down and take some pressure of my back muscles and put my head in my hands for a while.  I was completely beat down at this point knowing what was still ahead of me: some pretty tough climbs and even more mud.  I hinted that I thought my day was over, but my crew would not let me drop there.  Chad was ready to hop in and pace me too.  I am so thankful for their encouragement to get me going, even though it was like talking to a brick wall, as Chad had put it.  All six of them giving me positive encouragement and telling me that I could not quit there.  One of the race officials came over as well and said some kind words, and followed it up with: "..or you probably just want all of us to shut the fuck up," which made me smile and laugh. That gave me the energy to get up and keep going, but alas, it was not my day. 

Chad and I left Cruiser and moved at a decent pace for the next little bit, but my back pain just did not stop from all the hunching over and finding my footing in the mud, and I finally called it a day at the next aid station (mile 35/56km) and got a ride back down the mountain to the med tent to get checked out for any structural damage.  There was none, just extremely over-worked muscles.  In hindsight, I'm glad I stopped as the following days I was met a very stiff and painful lower back.

I do know that I need to get stronger and work even harder for the next one and I certainly have unfinished business at Blue Mountain - I will be back next year, there is no doubt.

Afterward, we headed off to my cottage for some beers and fun. The boys jumped in the hot tub and that made my back feel much better (or was it the beers?)

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After the race, I was overcome with a minor bout of depression regarding the race. It required a lot of planning leading up to it, and now it was over. It came and went...and I didn't finish.  This was my first true battle with post-race blues.  I wrote this report on the following Monday on my way to work and I couldn't help but still feel down about it all.  As I was walking into work (I work in a lab at Princess Margaret Cancer Centre as a summer research student), I saw a woman who had been undergoing chemotherapy and looked very weak and frail - but was still fighting.  This moment put everything in perspective for me: I'm alive, I'm healthy, and I can keep running and working hard toward my goals. There should be nothing to dwell on when the opportunities are still there.  I have now set my sights on another goal and know this is certainly not my last ultra.

So it was a day of many firsts: first 50+km run, first time using a crew, first forest dump (pleasant thought eh?), first time in the dark place, and first time I'd ever experience post-race blues, all of which are part of the learning curve of ultras... and I really did love it all.  The fire rages on inside me to try again.

Again, some special thanks go out to my amazing crew - Nicole, Chad, Ryan, Ali, Fiana and Kevin - it meant so much to have you guys there supporting me.  Best crew any runner could ask for. I will gladly return the favour to any of you!

-MJB