Friday, August 23, 2024

The Leadville Trail 100 Mile Run

 



Leadville 100 Mile Run

How a dream became a plan, and the plan turned into a belt buckle


The Dream

Winter 2009, I get my first road bike and enter my first race, the Blitz Duathlon. Instantly, I loved the experience and committed to taking my training seriously over the winter.

My mother sent me a book for Christmas that would transform me (as well as a generation of future runners), Chris McDougall's "Born to Run." In my first blogpost ever, I realize this book has inspired me to push further than I previously believed was possible. 
A significant portion of the book describes a rugged, 100 mile footrace high in the Colorado Rocky Mountains. The distance, altitude, terrain, and elevation are completely ridiculous, and yet there is a beautiful story about human beings actually accomplishing this, and according to Chris McDougall, any one of us could as well! 

Lance Armstrong, still highly revered by all sports fans, solidifies his return from cancer by entering the 2008 Leadville 100 Mountain Bike race, and coming in 2nd. He then came 3rd at the 2009 Tour De France, and returned to Leadville and won it

Seeds have now been planted, although at this point I was neither a runner nor a mountain biker, and it would take another 13 years for that seed to break ground.


Just as "Born to Run" triggered a surge in new runners, so too did the COVID-19 pandemic, as many team and indoor activities were canceled overnight, and thousands discovered the safety and freedom of running shoes and nature trails.
For me, this resulted in a switch from road running to trails, and from relatively short, predictable distances to big days in the mountains. I decided to run my first Ultramarathon, and suddenly the thought of running a 100 miler seemed not only achievable, but dare I say, desirable.

First thought went immediately to Leadville, so I tried the lottery, but sadly failed to get a spot.
Ran Sinister7 100 miler instead, and with that going well I plotted how to get into Leadville.

There are several ways to get into Leadville. Besides the general lottery, for which they don't advertise the odds, you can go to a handful of qualifying races and hope to earn a gold coin, either by placing tops in your age group, or via random handouts at the awards ceremonies. 
Only one of those qualifying races comes in the fall, AFTER Leadville 100; all the others are in either June or July. The Austin Rattler 50k is also the only qualifying race outside of the Colorado, and looking back at 2022 results, I figured I would have a decent chance of placing well.
So, I signed up and we made the trip back to Texas, picking up my dad, Eric, and his wife Jill from San Antonio, who had offered to crew for me.
The race went great, and I got 4th overall and 1st in my age group, earning me that coveted gold coin, and punching my ticket into Leadville! Start the countdown at 285 days. 


The Strategy

With plenty of runway, coach/wife Mel and I could analyze the specific needs of this race and put together a comprehensive build that would front-load speed and running economy, then increasing endurance and strength (thanks coach Bre!) consistently over the coming months. We would switch focus to trails and hills in early summer to work on specific elements of the course. 

January/February: 

Houston Half. Solid training block, though much of the speed was indoors. Flights were canceled a day before, so did a 10k TT on the treadmill and felt great. Picked up a late entry to Vancouver First Half. Decided to go out at PB pace and see what happens. I saw. It didn't happen. Blew up a bit and suffered in the rain with Mel as we ran it in.

May: 

Next up, BMO Marathon. With Kailyn doing the half, Mel's sister Christine and aunt Cathy doing their first fulls, it was a fun opportunity to extend that foot speed and cap it with a race. The training block went well, as I was grateful to spend many miles with good friends such as Tom, Liyang, and Dave. I was matching my PB marathon pace in some hilly workouts, and feeling pretty confident in my fitness. Race day didn't quite pan out, as I found myself out of gas around the mid point. Not from pacing, as I went out quite conservative, but from some lung/heart issues. Nonetheless, the main reason for doing this was to build that speed and fitness in training, and with that accomplished, I was very much still on track.

June/July:

I recovered very quickly from BMO (a positive trend that would continue) and could immediately turn my attention to the trails. We now had 15 weeks to turn my flat road legs into mountainous trail legs!

Within a week I was increasing vertical and slow trail running, as well as reintroducing the bike for some recovery and low impact mileage.

The build would continue with some peak weekends that included:

  • a mini training camp in Vernon
  • 2 back-to-back weekends
    • first weekend had a big climbing day Saturday, followed by a faster trail running day Sunday
    • following weekend had faster running day Saturday, followed by a big vertical day Sunday, followed by another long fast day on Thursday (anniversary marathon!)
      This week gave me the confidence in my trail speed as I set the course record around Elbow loop, then sent me to the brink of exhaustion and electrolyte depletion by summiting Prairie Mountain 4 times, then gave me the confidence in my recovery as I was able to run with Mel around Rundle fast enough to earn her the FKT (fastest known time).
  • Sinister7 50 miler
    • Treating this very much like a peak long training run, I needed to ensure a very conservative early pace. Given my fear of Leadville, I took this approach very seriously, knowing I'd only have 5 weeks in between. This would serve as a perfect dress rehearsal for the big show. I felt really strong through most of the race, coming from dead last (forgot my water flasks right before the start, d'oh!) and advancing all the way up to first by the half way point of the race. I then struggled a fair bit with motivation (went off course for a bit) and cramping. This coincided with the biggest climb of the race, which had me in survival mode for a few hours, losing 2 positions in the overall. Managed to fuel and recover enough to finish strong, squeaking in under 10 hours (my course infraction would cost me a 30 minute relegation to 4th). I would recover from this race very quickly too.
  • Final training weeks 
    • Mt Bourgeau and Moose Mountain. I felt pretty sick in the weeks before Leadville, and these runs both had me experiencing nausea and cramping. But I got 'er dun.

Interventions

In addition to the strength and training strategy, we also employed various interventions in order to best prepare for the challenge.

Altitude

The scariest thing about Leadville is the altitude. The race starts at over 10,200 ft (3,100m), and tops out at 12,600 ft (3850m). Compare that with 1000m we are at in Calgary, and the impact of this caused me a fair amount of anxiety!
To help with this, I aimed to spend as much time in the Kananaskis and Bow Valley altitudes, at least raising my baseline to around 1400-1500m. Mt Bourgeau tops at 2900m, getting me around the lowest point of the race!

I also committed to 1-2 weekly workouts in the altitude chamber at TCR. Here they've simulated the conditions of high altitude (10,000-12,000ft) by restricting the percentage of oxygen in the room. These workouts consisted of neuromuscular intervals of 60-90 seconds, as well as prolonged power hiking efforts at 15% gradient. I felt strong at these sessions and they served as my only speed work in the final month.

Additionally, The Run Lounge invested in an Altitude Tent, which we installed in our bedroom for about 4 weeks prior to the race. This serves to get your body used to increasingly higher elevations in a controlled* ramp up. This would help prevent common altitude-related symptoms such as nausea and sleeplessness.

* one snafu with this was during the 2nd week, our dog Kip must have brushed the dial up to the max setting without us noticing.
We had a terrible sleep, and subsequently both got quite sick. The effective altitude had jumped from about 5,000 ft to 12,000!

We also planned to arrive at higher elevation around a week early.

For heat management (and overall performance benefit), I also employed a robust heat protocol, utilizing the infrared sauna, steam shower, and active heat training. This would serve me well at Sinister7, where the temperature averaged 29C and peaked at 34C!

For supplements, I relied on Iron, Creatine, Protein, and in the final weeks, Magnesium.


#Vanlife

The last piece of the puzzle was physically getting to Leadville. After contemplating it for a few years, Mel and I pulled the trigger on a new camper van, and drove from Calgary to Colorado, via Butte Montana and Salt Lake City. We enjoyed each other's calm, quiet company as we traversed americana, then met up with my crew, Eric and Jill in a small campground just outside of Vail, for a few days of no cell service and that sweet mountain air. 


The Plan (aka the spreadsheet)

This section will be very short, despite the elaborate spreadsheet I had put together. All that prep work serves to get you well prepared (how many gels do I need to bring? when will I need my headlight?), but it does nothing for me during the race.
I had drawn out scenarios that had me finish in 22hrs, plus or minus 2 hours.
My crew had it, they knew where and when to go. Coach/wife/pacer Mel had it, and knew what she had to do.
All I had to do was remember to go. Out. Slow.


The Race

4 AM Start! Ouch. That means 2:30 AM alarm. Mel dropped me off at the start at 3:45, and I waltzed over and lined up near the front. ~800 runners condensed into single city block, with a dozen drones flying overhead in the dark and influencers filming themselves or being filmed... it was wild!

The gun goes off (literally, a loaded rifle!), and we dart down 6th Street for a mile before entering a long dirt road.

The first 8km are wide roads, with plenty of room to pass or be passed, and my easy start meant there was no shortage of guys gunning past me right away.

At the first uphill, I'm caught by good friend Ailsa, and she skirts up the hill and out of sight.

The next 10km are a beautiful single track trail around Turquoise Lake. Thankfully, at this point the race has spread out, and I'm leading a small pack of guys through the trees in the darkness. Flagging isn't great, and the terrain is a little tricky with roots and rocks. Not a big deal now when I'm fresh, but how will this feel on my way back (Leadville is a pure out and back course).

Coming out of the trail, we get to the first aid station, Mayqueen. There is no crew allowed here the first time, nor do I need to refill my bottles yet, but I do need a toilet! My first of several bathroom breaks was here (also a common theme at this high altitude race.)



From Mayqueen, you first run along a rooty, technical climb for several kms, then continue climbing on a long, dirt road up to the top of the infamous "Powerline". The sun was starting to come out and I could put my headlamp away. It felt more isolated now, as I leap frogged a couple guys up and down Sugarloaf mountain. One guy had very low flight and kept bumping his feet on things and made a loud, scuffling sound as he ran. This was starting to drive me nuts, so I was a bit surgy in this section to try to distance the two of us. As I descended down Powerline, I regretted not having packed my sunglasses yet, finding myself squinting and worrying about missing a trail marker and going off course. Thankfully, it's just straight down, and before I knew it, I ran into the next aid station, Outward Bound.

For anyone that's watched any documentary about Leadville, you'll see the insanity that are Outward Bound and Twin Lakes aid stations. With it being an out and back course, 800 racers, each with about 5 people crewing/pacing, and tons of volunteers, it's not an exaggeration to say there were probably 4000-5000 people waiting in a big open field, strewn with massive tents, lined up to form a tunnel from one end to the other.

Thankfully Melissa was waiting at the start of the tunnel, and could lead me over to the chair where Eric had my stuff. Think, running through Costco at Christmas time, but where everyone stops and moves out of the way for you, while screaming in celebration.

At this point I was feeling great. My pace was solid, roughly 10km/hour, even with nearly 700m of climbing, in the dark. I had been fueling well, and had now completed the first quarter of the race. I stopped only long enough to replace my flasks and nutrition, ditch my headlight and jacket, grab my shades, switch my hat, and off I went!


The next number of miles go relatively unremarkable, as you start with a paved road, followed by a dirt road.

It's all at a gentle false-flat hill, so the pace seems slower than it should be. I kept my legs moving, though I was starting to feel a bit nauseous and was grateful for the next aid station, Half Pipe. More specifically, grateful for the porta-potty.


People were starting to show signs of battle at this point. Guys walking on flats or stopping, then surging past to make up the time lost.

One girl performed a textbook puke and rally. Repeatedly emptying her stomach contents in an exorcistic  manner, then proceeding to fly past me (ultimately finishing 3rd female!)

From HP, you continue climbing up Mt. Elbert, then you're rewarded with a flowy, gorgeous, fast descent into Twin Lakes aid station.

Twin Lakes was incredible. All of the crews moved camp from Outward Bound and the entire town was lined up about a kilometre long. It felt more like a circus!


I stepped into the first tent and ate. Yes, real food. Noodles and broth. I shocked myself that I wanted and COULD take this down. That never happens in ultras!

I then meandered through town and the encampment that reminded me of watching the Tour De France, when riders climb Mont Ventoux with fans screaming from both sides.

I have no idea where my crew is, but I keep walking/jogging to the very end and find Eric and Barry (Ailsa's husband/crew chief). 

Melissa, they tell me, isn't there because she had to go back to get my rain vest. Barry generously lends me his, as the next time I'll see my team will be 7+ hours and 2 mountain passes away. I grab my Twin Lakes aid bag, poles, and off I go!


From Twin Lakes, you tread through a deep marsh, at first soiling your shoes in mud, and then entering a thigh deep river crossing to wash off the previously acquired mud.
The river was cold and refreshing, and another runner and I both looked forward to the NEXT time we would run back through this river.


That's because right afterwards, you climb. And climb. And climb. Gaining 1000m over 7km, to the top of Hope Pass.
You start in dense forest and push upwards until you get to the meadow in the sky, Hopeless Aid station.
As the air got thinner, my lungs struggled to refill, and my legs could barely manage a slow walk to the aid station.
My head was aching and my stomach was frail.
I drank everything I had on that climb, but made it to the aid station and was well taken care of. 



This stop is a bit surreal, as the field is occupied by llamas, which are used to haul supplies up (and presumably bodies, down) the mountain, as well as the friendliest volunteers I've ever met. They restocked me and reminded me to keep moving. The sooner you can get down to lower elevation, the sooner you'll feel better. That sounded great, except after the aid station, you still have 200m more to climb over the top of the peak! Nevertheless, by then you can see it, and you can slowly crest and head down.
David Roche passed me the other direction right at the summit, and it would be a long time before I saw everyone else.

The descent on the backside of Hope Pass is very steep and rather technical, including loose, sandy dirt, then roots and sharp drops. Near the bottom I crossed paths with Reid Burrows, hearing from our short exchange that he was having a rough day but was determined to finish. A few kms later I crossed with Ailsa, who was 2nd female at this point, but also expressed feeling quite rough.
I wasn't feeling too strong myself, and really was just looking forward to getting to the turnaround, Winfield Aid station. The temperature was rising, and I had run out of water on the descent. I began to worry that I would not have enough to get back up the mountain! Just near the end, there was a random table setup by locals, where they were handing out free water bottles. Wow, just what I needed. 

Arriving here, I had been duly warned to not get TOO comfortable. This is the site of many a DNF, as the prospect of climbing back up Hope can be overwhelming. I sat down for 5 seconds, then smacked myself to get up, grab water and fuel, and set off. 


I spied a beautiful creek about 200m from the aid station, and decided I'd rather spend my aid station time soaking in the creek, as opposed to hanging around the zombies in the aid tent!

I removed my pack and fully submerged myself in the cold mountain water, then got up and walked up the road, savoring my coke and banana. Meeting another racer, he acknowledged the goal, keep the core temperature down and just get back over this b**ch.

After setting off, I felt great. My stomach was happy, and I began shuffling on the ups, running on the flats, but with no concern for urgency. According to the results, there were 499 people I then crossed paths with during my ascent back up Hope Pass. Many of those crossings were on tight single track, but instead of getting irritated by this, I forced myself to see it as a positive. Each time someone would approach, I would step aside and give myself a 5 second break. Sure, this costed me a few minutes when all added up, but it gave me a short respite, and focusing on that made my return a lot more pleasurable.

At least until the grade got REALLY steep. Again, the air got thinner and now, even more than before, my legs could barely keep moving up this brutal climb. Step, step, breathe. Repeat. That section took forever, but eventually I saw, then crested the very summit, 12,532 feet above sea level. 

Then a quick drop back to the Hopeless Aid station for a refill on a couple bottles, more noodles, then onward and downward!



Leaving Hope Pass, again my stomach was not happy, but I knew I needed to get to lower ground. I began to run. For the first time since the morning, I felt good, and improving, the more I ran. My quads felt fresh and the terrain was not too steep nor technical. I caught a few people on the descent and started to get excited. I knew Mel would be waiting at the next aid station, ready to pace me all the way to the finish, and she was nervous about running at night. The faster I completed this, the less night running SHE would have to do.  

I bolted down the mountain, through the river crossing and swamp, and back into Twin Lakes!


At Twin Lakes, in front of the classic dance hall, I find my crew, Mel, Ailsa and Barry. (Ailsa is not feeling well and has been sitting, trying to recuperate.) 
I am feeling stoked now. I've made it over the nastiest of climbs, twice, have 100km completed, and am going to be able to run with my favorite person in the world.



I make a quick shoe/sock change, down some noodles, restock fuel and GO! This is my longest time at aid station, roughly 10 minutes (compared with about 45 mins at Sin7 last year!)

Right out of the gate from Twin Lakes, we start to climb. It's about 4km long and 400m of elevation, but it feels like another mountain 12er. I can only walk/hike the climbs, but with Mel's encouragement I shuffle across the flats.
I'm feeling optimistic and tell Mel I think I can PB my 100mi (23:08). Then she tells me some devastating news; I've lost a bunch of time on my target pace, and getting a PB will only happen if I can claw back some of that time. I'm still having constant bouts of nausea and don't see how I can go any faster.
Then she tells me, in order to still get the big, gold buckle for coming in under 25 hours, I'll need to finish at a speed of 5:30/km. I can't believe it. How have I lost so much time? I passed the half way mark at 10 hours flat. I know I was REALLY slow up Hope Pass on the way back, but now I find myself having to pick up the pace on the return FASTER than what I ran it out at?
"I don't think I can do that, baby" I tell her, woefully. What little air I had left in my lungs begins to deflate.

My head turns to acceptance of just finishing under the 30 hour time limit. I guess that's ok. At least, I will finish. I did not come all this way to not finish. 

About 20 minutes later, Mel realizes that I misinterpreted her statement. 


She said 5.5 kilometers PER hour, not 5.5mins/km! The light bulb begins to brighten as I acknowledge what is happening here. You mean, I'm back in it?? Yes, she assures me, sub 25 hours is TOTALLY doable, then proceeds to "show her math," which at this point is going way over my head, but the light is back, and the burden lifts as my heart gets renewed vigor to push.

As we crest and start descending, again my legs feel better and better. Descending seems to recharge them. What a different experience than sin7 100 miler, where my toes and quads were not my allies. 
We catch about 3 or 4 racer-pacer pairs en route to the next aid station, Half Pipe.


Stopping brings back a bit of nausea and yet another bathroom break, but leaving HP as the night fully engulfs us, with our headlamps out, we continue down the dirt and then paved roads. Our pace is slow and steady. No more walk breaks unless the pitch goes up to "moderately steep" , which thankfully, is rare now.

Melissa's encouragement grows, as she probably realizes it's not going to be 30 hour day! My confidence grows each time she exclaims being impressed with how I'm running.

We roll into Outward Bound, which is a much more subdued version of its previous incarnation, with nearly half the field already surrendered.

Eric and Jill refill our bottles, and I press on, relying on Mel to insure we're loaded up on gels to get us through the next leg.


Leaving Outward Bound, we continue on a long, uphill paved road which is pretty uneventful, other than the shot of Bud Light being offered (and received) on the side of the road. It actually sat really well in my stomach, offsetting the dread of the infamous Powerline climb approaching.

I had been dreading this climb more than Hope Pass. It comes at km 130, is about 5km long and gains almost 500m of elevation. 

It's ridiculously steep at the start, then contains a few short descents throughout, giving you either false hope or a short reprieve, depending on whether you're an optimist, or running a 100 miler.

I plodded along at a baby snail pace, until I had my first hallucination.

On the side of the trail, I saw a woman and a dog, supposedly sitting down cheering for runners. I said hello and thanked her for being out here. 

Then I realized I was talking to a rock.



Finally reaching the summit, we came across an aid station that is only there at night. There were disco lights, rave music, and a bunch of drunk frat dudes!

I pleaded with Mel to let us stay and party for a bit but she gave a firm, No. I let her fill my flasks while I walked through, grabbing the last two slices of watermelon on my way. (I'd been craving fruit, especially watermelon, all afternoon. I was asking at all aid stations along the way, however they had long since run out, so this discovery was like finding chocolate eggs on Easter morning)

After the mountain disco, walking along the top of the ridge, Mel says to me, "there's no way we're walking all the way back when you're feeling ok," and she was right. I didn't feel that bad after Powerline, and began to shuffle. The shuffle turned into a jog, the jog turned into a run, the run turned into FULL SEND!
Still not sure what happened, but descending the backside of Powerline, I got into such a beautiful flow, it felt like I was flying. My quads felt fresh as daisies, and my eyes were able to see all the lines through the random rocks and faults in the dirt road.
Mel was behind me, hollering, and we passed a number of people. That was the strongest I had run all day!


After the dirt road, we hit a very technical trail descent, which slowed us down but did not hamper our spirits. We kept it more chill as roots and stones protruded between the shadows from our headlamps, and before long we found ourselves at the final aid station, Mayqueen.


Mayqueen was a really quick exchange. Eric and Jill were there, and replaced my flask, although with one much smaller. Apparently something went wrong with the 500ml flask, and they only had a 200ml mini flask to give me. I should have just refilled my old one, as well as my water flask, which was about 75% full, but I was determined to buzz through here quickly and finish this off. I had my sights on sub 23 hour now, and didn't want to waste a second.

Thankfully, Mel filled up her flasks and ran back up to me as we entered the trail to loop around Turquoise lake.

This section took a lot longer than I desired. My headlamp died out and I had to swap with my backup. It wasn't as bright, and this trail had a solid mix of rocks and roots, some sections smooth and runnable, other sections forcing you to come to a complete stop and clamber down a boulder. I was still running a hot core temperature and finished all my flasks quite quickly. Mel saved me by first cracking a mini coke, and later giving me her flask of gatorade (in addition to several gels).

Finally leaving Turquoise lake, I knew we had it in the bag. My body felt okay and I could still jog at a decent pace. Hitting the road at 8km to go, we starting reeling in so many people that were reduced to walking.



The final 5k of Leadville throw another 150m of vertical at you, which serves to give one the sense of a moving target. A headlamp behind me triggered the last spark that I needed to keep moving. Finally, after a long, quiet slog in the dark, we turned left on McWethy Drive, right on 6th street (it did have a Boston Marathon feel to it).  

Going up that final climb to the finish, we caught another 3 runners, and kept the pace going until 20 meters before the finish, where I told Mel, let's slow it down and take it in!

We fucking did it! 

My watch died at 150k so I don't have all the stats, but I went from 35th to 28th, crossing the finish line in 22 hours, 16 minutes, 59 seconds.





Bested my previous 100 mile by nearly an hour, and coming in over 2.5 hours below the 25 hour big buckle time.

I am filled with gratitude, for Eric and Jill, for making a vacation / road trip out of this, and then pulling an all-nighter to help crew for me.

For my friends and training partners that encouraged and pushed me all season.

For the volunteers and race organizers, delivering on the promise of an event that will truly transform who you are.

And of course, for my wife/coach/pacer/psychologist/everything, Mel. Words will never match how much gratitude I have for what she's sacrificed for me in this journey, and our bond was strengthened even further in our 8.5 hours together in the dark, high-altitude Coloradan Rockies. 





Monday, July 10, 2023

Sinister 7 - Prologue

Splitting the report into pre-race (boring, nerdy stats for my own logging), and race day. Skip all this to go straight here for the race itself.


Why sign up for a 100 miler? 

Probably the question I've been asked the most. To be honest, after running the 50 miler in 2021, I had no desire to double the distance, let alone on the same course!
Then, after racing a few more trail races (Moose Mountain Marathon and Freaky Creeky 50k), and more generally becoming a fan of the sport, I got it in my head that I was ready to tackle the 100 mile beast. It had to meet some criteria, though:

  • Had to be a legitimate course put on by a trusted race director. I wasn't interested in running 153k, or 176k. I didn't want to end up lost in the mountains because of poor flagging or lack of volunteers and support staff.
  • Wanted it to count as a qualifier for UTMB or Western States. This would both bring more depth of talent, as well as give me a chance in one of those lotteries!
  • Did not want multiple loops of the same 10k. Ideally it would be one big loop, with zero chance of an easy out to abandon. 

As I weighted through the options, I settled on Leadville 100. With no qualifying races necessary, I could just sign up through the lottery. There is so much history in that race, it would be impossible to take it for granted while out on course, I figured!
Well, that dream would have to wait, as I received my lottery rejection letter on January 9th, at 10:04 AM. However with that mental hurdle overcome, by 1:53PM, I was on the start list for Sinister 7 100 miler. I had 6 months to figure it out from there!


Learnings from 2021
First thing I had to do was remember my learnings from the 50 miler:

  1. Course Specificity: Steep hills. In 2021, my training consisted of long trail runs, with low-moderate amount of climbing. While Sinister is mostly runnable and running fitness is most needed, there are some steeper sections, in particular the Seven Sisters Mountain climb. This appeared at kilometer 50 and hit me like a brick wall. Not only was I physically at my limit from running and the heat, but the sudden steepness knocked the wind out of my sails. I struggled to recover, ended up tripping myself and damaging my toes quite badly (see @rens_toes).
  2. Nutrition/hydration: Being our first ultra, both Mel and I were not prepared for the excessive heat (~38C at its peak). I had no ice, and thus nothing cold at my aid stations. My interest in dry, warm food and drink waned as the day rolled on, and to combat this I spent more time dunking in creeks and refilling water at intermediate aid stations.
  3. Gear/Shoes: Upon receiving my award for "Worst Feet", a friend asked why I didn't just use the Heel-Lock method to tie my shoes. A quick Google later, as well as some solicitation with my other trail running friends, and I started wondering how come nobody every told me about this secret magic trick before! The sliding of my feet in my shoes, combined with aforementioned fatigue resulted in a rather debilitating bludgeoning of my toes on leg 6, right before the long descent I had been yearning for during the entire climb. The pain was so severe that I was forced to walk/shuffle downhill; contrary to my racing goal of capitalizing on the favorable gradient. Furthermore, I had decided to employ poles for leg 6. That might have been a good decision if I had practiced more, and had a quiver to stash them when not needed, but instead they felt burdensome. I regretted bringing them as they made drinking and eating even more challenging. I considered tossing them into a creek.

 
The Strategy

Strength

For Christmas 2022, Mel hired strength coach Bre "Brevil" Gustafson for me. We recognized that long ultras are not necessarily won by those with just the highest VO2 max, but by those having the overall muscular strength and endurance to persevere for up to 24 hours! This accountability was exciting, and I eagerly and diligently followed her plan each week and felt strong and robust.

 

Nutrition/Supplements

Creatine Monohydrate (see "Dr Creatine" Scott Forbes), increased Protein intake, Vitamin B, daily multi-vitamin. Cut back alcohol to 1 or 2 per night, generally only on weekends. Was mindful to eat ENOUGH during the day, especially in the final 6 weeks of training, as the volume increased.

 

Training

Goal was to build road speed early for Mesa Half (see Every Second Counts), then maintain that speed but extend duration during the spring with a marathon (Boston) and a road 50k (Calgary).

To address the identified limiter from last Sin7, each week would have prescribed elevation goals, often with maximum distance put in forcing me to find some steep, repeatable terrain.

To keep the body and mind happy during a 6 month training cycle, I wanted to include the bike more. One day per week minimum on the saddle would help me meet the training hours, while taking the edge off the feet.

To put it all together, we would be shifting the weekly training goals away from mileage, and focus on total hours. 

 

Heat

Infrared Sauna Protocol would be designed and documented, in particular during the final 3 weeks. Even if it wasn't going to be a hot day for the race, the adaptations would still provide a tremendous benefit.


Mental

Overarching motivator for the entire training would be my desire to accomplish this daunting feat. The distance and duration seemed unfathomable, but I was going to put everything I had into the training, and on race day. In training I focused on chunking; breaking long runs and workouts into smaller bite-sized chunks. I repeatedly reminded myself to be grateful, through it all. 
I knew as the race drew closer that I would start obsessing over ultra documentation and youtube videos, so I decided to get a head start on another passion I'd been brewing, and registered and certified myself in Trail and Ultrarunning Coaching, and a specialization in Sports Psychology, through UESCA. 
This training helped me frame up the impossible into a manageable and calculated project, and gave me an extra motivator to rise up for race day!

 

Key Workouts

  • Prairie Mtn. More climbs up Prairie this year than all other years combined.
  • Up and over Sulphur: 2.5 hours turned to 4.5 hours, and I did not fuel adequately. About 30 minutes post-run, I felt nauseous and nearly blacked out. I had a stabbing pain in my kidney and had to get Mel to drive us home from Banff. A hot bath, advil, and 4 hours later I came back to life. This would have been DNF during a race, and was a major wake up call to take the fueling more seriously!
  • 60k up Moose Mountain: Eat everything! Mashed sweet potatoes, oreos, etc. Felt incredible. Longest training run ever, and 2nd longest run next to Sin7 50 miler.
  • B2B mountain marathons: Saturday, 4 x Sulphur Mountain. Felt comfortable on each lap, even making the final one, solo, the fastest. Sunday we did Elbow Loop, which is nice and runnable. Felt comfortable, but ready to call Peak Week done!
  • Taper Tempo, July 1st. After hosting the Canada Day 5k at the track, standing and yelling, then going home and having coffee and lunch, I went to WBC by myself and ran the Kestrel loop with a fun workout Mel had prescribed. My legs felt incredibly good, and set some PRs on several segments that I've ran a lot. Confidence for race day legs!

2023 H1 Stats


Total Runs: 184

Total meters climbed:  37,650 m

Total kilometers running: 2,368 km

Total hours running: 214 h

Total hours strength: 31.5 h

Total hours bike: 26 h

 



Sinister 7 Ultra - 100 Miler!

"This too shall pass"




If interested in how the build-up went, you can find the boring details here.

The more I race, the more I'm convinced this adage was written by an Ultra runner. Variations of this saying have come and go over the past few years, and all of them would find a way into my consciousness during course of 100 miles. 

The forecast leading into the week was for a mild 16-20C, overcast with 60% chance of showers throughout the day, thunderstorms overnight.

The forecast lied.


The Course

Distance: 161 km / 100 miles
Elevation: 6,363 m / 20,875 ft
Time cutoff: 30 hrs to complete the course
Description: The race features 7 legs, starting in Blairmore, AB, and finishing in Coleman, AB. Official website here





Leg 1: 18.3km (535m elevation)

100 mile soloists and relay runners start at 7:00, and with Mel running leg 1 on a relay team, it was nice to line up together. And that's the last I seen of her, as the gun went off and she was gone!

Meanwhile, I had my own race to worry about, and got to share some early miles with Scott Cooper and a few other soloists I hadn't met before.  
Kept the pace in check on the early roads, then eased in to the hills in the 2nd half, with plenty of runners passing me as I switched to power hiking on the steeper parts.
Pretty uneventful first leg. Entered transition area in 1hr 42mins, refilled a bottle, and off I went.

Leg 2: 16.7km (772m elevation)

Leg starts with a long, beautiful climb, and I settled in comfortably while taking in the sights, and making sure not to go off course. Passed by or caught a couple of relayers, which is always nice to exchange a few words.
There is a second climb on this leg that is barely a blip on the map, but it's very steep and connects with the 50k route, so the rest of this leg I passed a lof the 50k'ers.
Leg 2 and 3 finish in the same place; a big school field back in town, and it's the first time since the start that you really see civilization again.
Reached this aid station around 10:40AM, with leg taking 1hr 50 mins. It was starting to get warm, and I knew it was going to be a slower day than I anticipated, but was very happy to see crewmaster Mel, as well as Deb and Sarah Hall, who drove down for the day just to help (including bringing sunscreen!), and Liyang, who's ninja photog skills were amazing! Spent less than 4 and half minutes restocking my gels, flasks, and grabbing a sweet potato bottle (a delicious concoction that I no longer want to think about or describe... talk to me in a week), and in good spirits, off I went!

Leg 3: 30.8km (988m elevation)

Affectionately referred to as "Satan's Sack." It's hot, exposed, dry, and features some unrelenting climbs. A friend of mine and multiple time Sin7 finisher, Majo, told me that to do well at Sin7, try feeling great coming out of leg 3. Easier said than done, as the heat and elevation start taxing your energy, digestion, muscles, and your will. Thermometer spiked into the mid 30's and not a single cloud in the sky!
Just kept cruising along slow and steady, up and down each of the climbs, finally reaching the mid point and cracking a mini coke per the sage recommendation from Scott.
Having reconned this leg a few years ago in training, I knew what to expect, and braced myself for a long grind. Food consumption was getting harder, but took in what I can. Of note was checkpoint 3b, where a volunteer had watermelon and sprinkling salt on it. Amazing.
Otherwise nothing eventful in leg, though I was more than a bit relieved to return to the aid station!
Arrival time ~2:45pm (66k in 7.75hrs), leg 3 time: 4hr 3 mins. 
This time I wasn't in such a hurry to leave the transition area.


The 50k trail squad was all done and showered, and came in to help Mel crew. Ailsa (who would remain right till the bitter end), Brad, Brandon and Emilie (each of whom placed top 3 in the 50k), each jumped in to help provide shade, ice, popsicles, pickles, gatorade, Boost protein shake, bug spray, more ice, and who knows what else. I truly appreciated it as I sat there for about 11 mins. Mel even took my shoe and sock off, put a couple of blister bandaids on my toe, and redressed me! No longer concerned with any time goal, and starting to question whether I could still endure this. Having all that support was incredible, but I also felt guilty for being slower, and part of me was considering the benefits of an early exit for everyone... but, off I went.  

Leg 4: 23.8km (988m elevation)

 The next few hours were my darkest. I left transition with a heavy pack, and a full belly, and the climb out was a slow, torturous death march. I was starting to feel nauseous and on the verge of throwing up, and all I could do to keep it in was walk. Slowly. Pretty frustrating to be waltzing along flat, clean, runnable trails that ordinarily I would be bombing! The trails there are quite stunning, and Saddle Mountain that you climb in Leg 4 offers beautiful sights.
As I neared the summit, my nausea started to clear (thanks to ginger gravol), however replacing it was full lower body cramps. Hamstrings and calves on the ups. Quads on the downs. Every step was followed by a spasm. I slammed back a bunch of salt tabs and a gel, but they wouldn't go away. Anytime I would stop running, by legs would start to contort and I nearly fell over at several check points while trying to refill my water flasks.

My watch was telling me that I was 7km from the halfway point of the race, but that 7k took forever. Each time I looked down, it seems only 100m had passed. I decided to have my halfway point celebration coke around km 75 instead of 80. Sat down on a log and watched some relayers pass me, while getting bit by flies and nibbling on a dry, day-old quesadilla. Hobbled away and down to the halfway point, when I came across fellow 100 mile soloist, Justin (he and I had crossed paths several times already in the race).
Unfortunately, he had just fallen and rolled his ankle, his leg all dirty and in some noticeable discomfort. I reached into my medicine bag and gave him some Tylenol, gravol, and salt tabs. Bit of a trail runner's shit mix, but we got him up and running again. 
This encounter had a profound effect on me, as I turned my focus away from my own self-deprecation, to that of helping a fellow runner. My mood changed, and with it came my energy. The end of leg 4 features a dirt road about 4kms long, and I found a really good rhythm with my gait. The sun wasn't quite as hot, I had crossed the half way barrier, and was finally nearing the end of this leg.
In my haste to reach my crew, I followed a relayer a little ways past the turn and although it wasn't more than 100m extra, it reminded me to keep my eyes on the path!
Finished leg 4 in 3hrs 48 mins, arriving around 6:30pm.
As I sat in transition I was very nervous to overdo it like last time, but also found myself WAY too comfortable sitting there. Between ice, restocking, and port-a-potty break, that transition took 24 minutes.

Leg 5: 27.4km (962m elevation)

Many say this is one of the most difficult legs because it's still warm out, and you run on a dirt road and exposed gutter/trail for the first 10k, and after my last transition I was worried the nausea would return, but instead I found a calm stomach and strong will, and I resumed my steady jogging that I finished leg 4 with. The miles ticked by, and as I passed the first checkpoint, I laughed that a big milestone, kilometer 100, had come and gone without me realizing it! The sun had started to dampen, and the thought of running in the night was so appealing, after a long day in the sun.
I trudged through the forest, comfortably power hiking and "granny gear" running. Reaching the 2nd checkpoint, I caught another 100 mile soloist, Brennan. We ran together for most of the way through the last part of this leg, and he'd mentioned he thought we were in top 10 position. 
I felt really strong at this point. Kilometers 105 to 115 were amazing. I couldn't believe that I was actually running comfortably again, even passing 50 milers and relayers. The leg cramps had all gone away!
In the final kms, the sun went down. I reached into my pack and grabbed my a headlamp. This section was pretty technical and dusty, so I took it pretty easy. No need to take any undue risks now. 
Came into transition and found Mel, lit up with her Vizzy vest, and Ailsa. 
Time was 11pm, and leg 5 took me 3hr 37 mins.
At this point, I was feeling really positive. Mel asked if I wanted to know my position in the results (I told her before the race to NOT tell me until the end of leg 5) and I said sure. It wasn't my focus but thought it'd be good to know, just in case I find myself dawdling and squandering time. She said I was sitting in 3rd or 4th, along with Brennan. Well that was a nice surprise, and it was also enough to get me in & out of transition. But not before preparing for a long over-night journey up highest point of the race, so I had a bit of stew and restocked all my lighting gear, and off I went, 11 mins later.   

Leg 6: 31.9km (1400m elevation)

The queen stage! This is rated as the most difficult leg due to the elevation and technical nature of the climbs and descents.
I may have been a bit too overzealous as I darted out of the transition. My stomach immediately flipped, and I ducked off the side of the road for an emergency bathroom stop!
Caught Brennan shortly after, and waved me through. I was climbing faster, but I wondered if the downhill and flat running strength he showed earlier would still be there. 
I pressed on. The first 8k to the the check point are a long, gradual climb on a mountain road. The road had some massive puddles that were unavoidable, and I slipped and trounced through or around whatever I could. Really hard to maneuver  through mud bogs in the dark, even with a headlamp.
That checkpoint always takes longer than you think because the "real" climb starts right after it.
A quick flask refill and up I went. The next section features a climb up 7 sisters mountain, and it's a serious grind. There are several parts that are over 40% grade, and you quickly lose any momentum on tired legs. The moon was dark orange, but not much else for visibility. This was a positive, however, because you can't really see the top of the mountain as you're climbing, you really have to focus on each step at a time!
Upon reaching the summit, you soon begin a series of long, steep, rocky descents. The same section that damaged my toes in the 50 miler in 2021 proceeded to wreak the same havoc on my feet this time. Headlamp pointed straight down to my feet, but my eyes struggling to focus, I slammed my toes and ankles into so many rocks. Each time it hurt more than the previous. My downhill running again became my vise. As I closed with the rollers on leg 6 I was strong but in a lot of pain in my feet. Was questioning whether or not I should have changed shoes before this leg... too late now.

Finished around 4:30 AM, with taking around 5.5 hours to run leg 6. No sign of my pursuer, and I felt confident I'd put enough time on him during the climbs, but I didn't want to spend any time in transition. 4 minutes later, another kiss from Mel and a high five from Ailsa. Sub 24 hrs was going to happen! "Let's finish this!" I said and off I went. 

Leg 7: 10.9k (321m elevation) 

Considered the easiest leg of the race, but not by me. You start with 2 km climb at 10% grade, which actually I didn't mind this time as I was still climbing well. But then, you have a descent on a narrow trail with sharp rocks, and, just like last time, caused me to go slower than on the climb. Sun was starting to come out and offer more visibility, but the damage to my feet was done.
Reached the checkpoint, who confirmed I was 3rd soloist. Final 5k are nice, soft trail, quite runnable, and although tender all over, I enjoyed this run in to the finish. 
With 1 mile to go, you exit the forest and re-emerge into civilization, for the last time. It's a gentle downhill, and as much as I wanted to sprint my feet wouldn't allow it. I glanced back, just in case. Nobody. Ok, just jog it in then. Savour it. Last leg of only 11km took me 1hr 37min, my slowest leg if you consider check point rest stops. 

Crossed the finish line in 23:08:18. Good for 3rd overall, and 1st Master. I started running on Saturday morning, and I didn't finish running until Sunday! I still struggle to wrap my head around that and the ludicrous distance that is 100 miles.

Exhausted and physically destroyed, but filled with gratitude. I'm grateful for my amazing wife/coach/crew chief/etc Melissa for all the sacrifices. Grateful for all the friends that helped at the race, trained with me before the race, expressed their support after the race. For all the advice I received from experienced 100 milers like Scott, Ailsa, Chris, Majo. Grateful for the team of experts that got me to the start line strong and healthy (Bre "Bre-vil", Tyson, and Carson).
Grateful and proud of my determination and resilience on this day. I practiced mental fortitude in training and employed deliberate methods that resulted in high confidence of completing this adventure. On a day where 71% of the field did not finish, I'm proud to be one of those that did.
I spent 1.5 hours NOT moving. That includes sitting in the transition areas for a total of 55 minutes, and over half an hour of stops at checkpoints along the way. But that's what I needed early on this day. To calm myself down, and approach this as an accomplishment, not as a race against time or an opponent. 

Also grateful to surround myself with other strong people. Teammate Claudia finishing first female, Harry redeeming himself from missing the time cut off last year and finishing with an hour and a half to spare, and Melissa M for coming top 6 female in the 50 mile race. 
And grateful for my kids, both of whom were following along at home all day, and hopefully glean a bit of inspiration that we are indeed not limited in our abilities.   

So, what's next? Will I race another 100 miler? Well I did enjoy this race more than I thought I would, though until my toe nails finish recycling I won't be thinking of anything besides getting a little fatter and enjoying some good summer patio beers. Talk to me in a week! While right now it feels like my feet will forever cause me agony, I know that this, too, shall pass.


Strava link here.

Official results here.