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).