Canadian Death Race, 25th Edition

 

Canadian Death Race 2025: A Scientific Experiment in Suffering (and Family Bonding)

Note: This post was generated by Claude AI's Sonnet 4, with only minor corrections.

It's been a week since the 20th edition of the Canadian Death Race, and I'm still finding mud in places that shouldn't have mud. But more on that later.

The 118km course begins and ends on a 4200-foot plateau, passes over three mountain summits, and not only includes over 17,000 feet of elevation change but a major river crossing at the spectacular Hell's Gate canyon - though the race description doesn't mention the biblical amounts of mud that would define this year's edition. Think Comrades meets Tough Mudder, with a healthy dose of Alberta wilderness thrown in for good measure.

The Why

Let me start with the most important part: my son Kieran. This race wasn't about personal glory or Instagram-worthy finish line photos. It was about a weekend adventure with my boy, from the drive up to Grande Cache, through our "camping" experience (and I use that term loosely), to having him crew and support me on course. Watching his excitement about the race became my fuel, and knowing he was out there cheering became the reason I wanted to keep running well when the going got tough. Which it did. Often.

The Plan (And When Plans Meet Reality)

Coach Melissa and I had approached this as a scientific experiment. We'd been working on heat training protocols, foot management strategies, and heart rate pacing systems. The goal was simple: earn my Western States 100 ticket by finishing this beast.

The spreadsheet said I'd finish in 14 hours and 45 minutes. Spoiler alert: I finished in 14 hours and 51 minutes. Sometimes the universe aligns perfectly, even when everything else is falling apart.

The Experiment Begins

Early morning energy was high, but I quickly learned that Canadian Death Race puts you through every emotion known to humanity, often within the same kilometer. The first few legs felt strong, settling into my target heart rate of around 140 bpm (though it spiked briefly above 150 early on - rookie mistake).

The course is divided into 5 legs, and each one has its own personality:

• Legs 1-2: Getting acquainted with Alberta's vertical ambitions
• Leg 3: Old Mine Road - pure bliss and the kind of running that makes you remember why you love this sport
• Leg 4: Where things get interesting (translation: where I started questioning my life choices)
• Leg 5: The final odyssey through darkness and determination

The Mental Game

Here's where things got psychological. People started passing me, and my brain immediately jumped to "you're way behind schedule" mode. I had to actively remind myself to run my own race, treat it like a regular Saturday long run (albeit a very, very long Saturday). I had a feeling I'd be catching most of those eager beavers later in the race. 

The camaraderie on course was incredible. Spent several miles running with Dylan on Grande Mountain, Dan during the rainy section of leg 3, and Kris for the entire Mount Hammel ascent - which was absolutely spectacular. These shared miles made brutal sections fly by and reminded me why the ultra community is so special.

The Mud Chronicles

Let's talk about the elephant in the room: the mud. So. Much. Mud.

For the first four legs, I played an elaborate game of hopscotch, performing acrobatic feats to avoid the deepest puddles. Think ninja warrior meets trail running. But by leg 5, I threw in the towel and opted for full foot submersion over fancy footwork. Sometimes surrender is the most efficient strategy.

The mud wasn't just unpleasant - it disrupted flow on otherwise beautiful singletrack trails. It was like having someone constantly interrupting your favorite song. But the trekking poles proved invaluable here, providing extra traction on climbs and helping navigate the worst of the mud pits.

Vertical Reality Check

Those power line climbs were something else. Crazy steep ascents where I simply could not get my heart rate up no matter how hard I tried. This became my clear limiter as the day wore on, watching others motor past me on the climbs. But the descents? That's where I made my time back. My asymmetric descent strategy (favoring my right side to protect a tender left glute/hamstring) worked perfectly, with only minor right knee consequences.

The flats and runnable sections were pure joy - especially leg 3's Old Mine Road and most of leg 5. These were the moments where I found my flow state and remembered why I love this sport.

The Body Electric

Nutrition and hydration were dialed in for the first 80% of the race. Soup broth, watermelon (which I absolutely love), and peach slices supplemented my usual gel rotation. Hydration was the best I've ever managed in a race - perfect sodium balance, never feeling too little or too much, refilling at almost every aid station.

Then came the ab cramps on Beaverdam Road - a 6km downhill stretch where I should have been flying but instead worried I'd have to stop and walk. The body's cruel sense of humor: giving you cramps on the one section where you should be effortlessly cruising.

The Numbers Game

Final stats: 14:51, 7th place overall, 2nd masters (over 40). Heart rate averaged 130 bpm for the day, spending about 6 hours above 132 bpm and the remaining 8 hours just below. The last two legs saw my average drop to 120 - partly strategic pacing, partly the natural consequence of 12+ hours of mountain abuse.

Transitions were efficient: 17 minutes total idle time at the 4 major aid stations, plus 11 minutes of bottle refills at checkpoints. Only needed jacket and gloves briefly at the top of Mount Hammel - could have probably survived without them, but you never know with mountain weather.

Gear That Worked (And Didn't)

• Shoes: Half-size-up Saucony Peregrines were perfect for the technical descents and drained water quickly
• Feet: Squirrel Nut Butter foot cream plus powder in shoes = zero hot spots or blisters
• Body: No chafing thanks to generous Body Glide application and nipple tape
• Trekking poles: Valuable on muddy climbs, though I carried them more than needed due to not knowing the course well enough
• Pack: Probably could have been lighter, but better over-prepared than under-prepared
• Headlamp: Carried a spare all day, turned on the main one about 7km from the finish

The pre-emptive ginger Gravol every 4 hours kept the stomach mostly cooperative, though things got a bit sketchy around the halfway mark.

The Finish

Crossing that finish line in Grande Cache, headlamp cutting through the darkness, was pure magic. Western States ticket: earned. Son: proud. Body: relieved but surprisingly functional.

More Than a Race

Like Comrades, this was about so much more than the running. It was about the drive with Kieran, sharing stories and excitement. It was about the glamping adventure. It was about the volunteers who spent their entire day in the mud just to cheer us on. It was about the other runners who became temporary best friends for miles at a time.

The Canadian Death Race lived up to its intimidating name while also being one of the most beautiful and well-organized events I've experienced. Finishing is the prize and the bragging rights are priceless, and they're absolutely right.

Would I do it again? Ask me in six months when I've forgotten the mud and only remember the mountains, the camaraderie, and Kieran's smile at the finish line.

Actually, don't ask me. The answer is probably yes, and Melissa might not appreciate that.

Time: 14:51
Place: 7th overall, 2nd masters
Mud level: Biblical
Family bonding: Priceless
Western States ticket: Secured

See you in the mountains (hopefully with less mud next time).

Comrades 2025

 

Comrades Down, 2025 
"More than a Race"

It's been a week since the 98th edition of the Comrades Marathon, a grueling foot race that takes place each year in South Africa.

The distance varies, between 85 and 90km, alternating direction each year as either starts in the city of Pietermaritzburg and ends in Durban, or vice versa.

Due to Durban sitting at sea level, 600m lower than 'Maritzburg, it is considered the "Down" run, but make no mistake, both directions offer a tremendous amount of climbing and descending. To offer some perspective on the 1100m of gain + 1800m of descent, consider this: Boston and NYC marathons, considered as hilly races, both have about a quarter the amount of climbing over half the distance. "Heartbreak Hill" is only 600m long and gains about 35m. There are so many of those climbs in Comrades they don't even show up on the map. In addition to dozens of these little pesky bumps, it also features several monster climbs, affectionally called the Big 5: Botha's Hill, Inchanga, Field's Hill, Cowies Hill, and Polly Shotts. Any one of these in a marathon should be enough make you reconsider your goal time!

And then there's the obvious effect from all the downhill running. In the 2nd half of the race, I witnessed more people walking the downhills than the ups, quads, hip flexors, and feet completely obliterated from the impact.

Now that you know a little more about the race, here's a little recap of my own journey.

Coach/wife Melissa and I sat down about 6 months ago and began thinking about the best way to approach a race of this nature. The distance and format are so unique, and it would require a tremendous amount of personalization (and flexibility) to get it right.

For starters, we needed to get in around 4 marathon+ distance runs. We needed to ensure the majority of the long runs were on pavement, but having consistent mileage spent on the more forgiving trails. The focus was going to be about pockets of high volume, including cross training, consistent speed workouts, combined with plenty of pullback weeks and physiotherapy to keep the body progressing through the build.

Thanks to strength coach Bre, physio and sadist, Tyson, and training partner extraordinaire Blaine, this training block was one of the most interesting builds I've ever done.

The Race

1am wake up call (just as we were starting to adapt to the time zone), and on the bus at 2:00. Staying at the finishing city meant enjoying a 90km commute to the start line, with a group of anxious, jittery and sleep deprived fellow runners. Arriving with plenty of time to spare, praying to the gastro-intestinal gods to forgive your irregular morning routing, and eventually all shuffling our way through the crowd of over 20,000 runners to find our starting corals.

Here, the energy is like no other. Running clubs in Africa are more like large families. Swarms of people dancing and singing and laughing. 

This energy intensified as the crowds bellowed the South African national anthem, then Shosholoza (Comrades Marathon 2024 Shosholoza - goosebumps!). Then they played Chariots of Fire, the sound of a rooster, and pistol shot. All of these decades-long traditions. And we're off! 

The stampede of runners pushing and jostling through the first few kilometers is intense. There are kerbs and other road obstacles that make it the most technical part of the race. Held my ground and kept my pace in check as I hoped to steadily catch up to Blaine, whom I saw was just about 10 rows ahead of me at the start. It took me nearly 5kms to catch up to him, and both of us observed how hard the hills were feeling, even these early baby hills on fresh legs. My HR was quick to rise and we both settled in for the next few.  We didn't have a lot of time together, as Blaine needed a few pit stops, but it was magical being there with him after the journey we had been on together, and even when we weren't running side by side, I knew he was right there too and experiencing the same adventure.

On climbs I set the upper limit (150bpm), but always kept running. On descents, I let my natural descending strength dictate the pace, but ensured my stride length was short to keep the impact forces to a minimum. I would lose ground on the ups and make it up on the descents. And there was really nothing in between!

I spent miles chatting with several local runners, reveling in the crowd support, high-fiving kids on the side of the road.

It was going to get hot, so I doused water all over myself at every opportunity. 

I consumed. Maybe a bit too much for the first 30k. Stomach was feeling a bit strained so I took a ginger gravol and eased off my gel intake.

Any original time goals went out the window as my body began feel the damage from unrelenting hill repeats. My new goal of sub 7hrs took every ounce of physical ability and race math to stay on track. My feet had been taking a beating. Laces too tight. Toe box too narrow. Off-camber asphalt descents. Told myself I could deal with all of that later.

At km 60 I switched to just water and gels (forgetting electrolytes), and this would come to bother me at 83kms, where leg cramps forced me to walk and replenish.

A few minutes later, the cramps dissipated and I picked up where I left off. According to math, I could finish with about a minute to spare, unless there was another "Cowies Hill" in the final 5k!

There were 3 more hills, each the equivalent of Heartbreak hill, but not enough to stop me. 2kms from the finish, the road is fenced and the finish line beckons. The crowd volume becomes deafening as you cross about 3 banners (only the last of which is the actual finish line, somewhat dishearteningly).

Yes, it's over! 6:57:25. Good for a Comrades "Silver" medal (<7.5 hours). Pure relief, joy, and gratitude. Yes, the race itself was an incredible experience, like nothing I've ever been a part of (Tour De France meets Boston Marathon?), but as their slogan goes, it was much more than a race.

It was also 6 months of sweat and stories on long runs with Blaine, Mel, Liyang, and others that jumped in during the training.

It was about 48 hours of flying, 15 hours in airports, shuttle and tour busses, and 3 nights in one week with  no sleep!

But it was also about the culture of Africa. From the shake out park run with thousands of "busses" and singing to the excitement of a nation before, during and after their biggest event of the year. The traditions, the history, the folk lore.

This is one experience  I will never forget.

Isiko Mpilo