Riverlands 100 Mile Endurance Run

SETTING THE STAGE: A GAME OF CHICKEN

This is my friend Greg, we've been pals since we were pretty young.

When your friend says he has a goal of thru-hiking the 60km Dobson Trail in a day, you do it with him, and maybe you convince a few others to tag along.

Next summer we did the challenging 48km Fundy Circuit and invited others to suffer with us.

When that friend exceeds all expectations, looks fresh and in a great mood at the end of two long and difficult hikes - you might suggest he try a 100 mile run. 

You have to understand our friendship. Sarcasm and bullshitting is part and parcel. "Of course I'll sign up for a 100 miler, should be easy" he said. 

When picking a race to do, it had to be local-ish and in the spring (wife did not want me training during the summer months). The two options available were Riverlands and Gaspésia.  I picked Riverlands because I had heard horror stories of mud at Gaspésia, and that did not appeal to me at all.

When the sign up for Riverlands opened on August 16th. Greg and I had a friendly game of sign-up-for-100-miler-chicken. Neither of us chickened out and we were officially both entered to the 2025 Riverlands 100 Mile Endurance Run that day.

Leading up, I did my typical analysis: what are the rates of DNFs? What do paces and splits look like? Poured over historical splits, Strava entries,  and read several race recaps to figure out what the terrain might be like. "North-Eastern Technical" was the described terrain, but I don't know if that means "Dobson Trail soul-sucking, technical",  or "Fundy Circuit, challenging and fun, technical". 

One thing puzzled me. All of the trails posted on facebook looked extremely runnable, yet there is a significant rate of people not finishing. Why? There were no earth-shattering climbs, and the Course Record suggested it lent itself to speed.

Some of the answers were: abnormally hot year, or very cold overnights, or "It's too easy to quit because of the course layout".

**********************************************

PRE RACE

Packed the kids, wife and made sure to include a grandmother in the car, we made the 7+ hour drive to Augusta, Maine on Friday with the family and met Greg and his family at the hotel. On our way down, Greg texted me that he was worried about the rain. What's a little rain? 

We picked up our race packet and ate the pre-race meal at the Martin Stream Campground. My daughter really enjoyed the pirate ship themed playground, which we said we could come back during the award ceremony (if I finish).

It announced a downpour on Saturday race day with "flood warnings" for the area, low of 8°C overnight. Rain would start at 6:00AM, peak between 9:00-11:00AM, and continue until 4:00PM, 45mm of rain total. Sunday would be nice should I still be running.

"Unfortunately, rain is not on the list." my friend Bruce texts, along with a photo of the "Acceptable Reasons to Quit" list I’d given him the previous Wednesday.

I sign up for so few races throughout the year(s) that I go into every one with the mentality of finishing. I try to not let myself think it's acceptable to tap out at any point, unless there is a valid reason to do so. Ultras as long a 100 miles inevitably come with a healthy dose of suffering and misery, but those are temporary and there is growth in overcoming and persevering. 

Saturday Race Morning: Greg and I drive down to the Androscoggin Riverlands State Park parking lot for the 6:00AM start time. The rain had not started yet, and we took a few pictures as requested by our wives. Talked to our car neighbours awaiting 6:00AM to draw.

I wasn't worried so much about the rain per se, but more about the cold and foot blisters that would inevitably show up throughout the race as collateral.

After a quick briefing by Valerie the Race Director we would be off; (I'm paraphrasing) "The trail might be wet and you will want to take a dry path around. We ask that you keep to the single track, as we want to keep them single track trails - your feet will get soaked either way, so suck it up." 

**********************************************

START: 6:00AM - 0:00 RACE TIME

A light rain started shortly before the start of the race. We assembled in the corral, Greg and I were roughly in the middle. 

We quickly set off from the word "GO". 

Up the ATV trail for about 1.2 kms. Many of the runners elected to walk the first uphill, but we felt pretty good and ran up the first uphill and were positioned in the top 1/3 of runners. Part of the reason was that we didn't want to get stuck behind a huge train of people on the single tracks. 

Then we veered left onto the first single tracks of the race. The trails were beautiful and pristine. Homestead Trail was flat, runnable, soft, and flowy. A fun trail to run on, and with no real obstacles to slow us down. There were the odd rocks to skip over and logs to balance ourselves on, which caused no issues whatsoever. To our left was the Androscoggin River. This section lasted about 2.5kms. 

Back onto the ATV road for a quick transition towards the Ridge Trail which was on the right side the of the ATV road. 

You can get a general sense of the course by thinking of which side of the ATV road the trail is on. To the east of the road is the riverside - fairly flat, soft and flowy single tracks. To the west of the road is the hillside - on this side, trails are slightly more technical with some punchy climbs and steep descents. The Homestead and Pine Loop trails are riverside, and Ridge and Bradford are hillside. In all, about 50% of the course was single track, and the other 50% was ATV trails. 

We made our way up the Ridge Trail, up through some switchbacks and climbed a total of 90m from bottom to top. A steep enough climb to know you were climbing, but not long enough to really build up some lactate in the legs. The descent of this section was the very unique "Rock Stairs". Greg and I were discussing how this section might be sketchy to navigate on lap 4, or in the dark. As we start descending I check up on Greg to make sure the pace wasn't too fast for him.

[Placeholder for rock stairs]

We quickly rejoined the ATV trail and I took the opportunity to drink the entirety of one of my high-carb filled flasks, as the aid station was coming up.  Remembering some of the splits from past years, I expected to arrive at the "Middle-Earth" aid station at approximately ~1h10 into the race, but we got there in 57 minutes. Either we started out too fast, or this course was faster than I anticipated. 

After getting through the aid station and refilling my bottle with Tailwind, we continued onto the ATV trail in a quick jog and going around the puddles as best as we could. I was mostly eating a Cliff bar and relying on high-carb drink mix for fueling. 

At some point, we veered hillside again to do what was arguably the toughest climb of the course. The Bradford Hill Trail didn’t really have any switchbacks, we went straight up the ~90 to 100m hill. Again, "punchy", but nothing to wreck your legs. The descent was extremely flowy and fast, and before we knew it we were back onto the ATV trail for a few miles.

By this time, the rain had pierced through the tree canopy and my rain jacket was justifying its price point. We linked up with Ian, a runner from Maine who was doing his first 100 mile attempt and had trained on the course. He was leading us though the ATV trails, and eventually onto the riverside Pine Loop Trail. This trail was in mostly OK shape, but at points we had to expertly jump onto some scattered rocks and across puddles that had accumulated. A few spots had some clearly "man-made" crossings. But this 4km trail was soft, flowy, perhaps a bit muddy, and we got through it quickly.

I had programmed my watch to "Lap" every 10 miles, and during this stretch it beeped to announce the completion of the first 10 miles of the race.

Inspired by running with my old friend,  I broke into song: 

You got a friend in me.

You got a friend in me. 

You got your troubles and I've got mine too. Together there ain't anything we can't do.

It's only 90 miles till our nice warm bed, oh you've got a friend in me.

 Though I'm not sure that any of my running pals around me appreciated the song. 

We got to the ATV trail, went through the fabled "Mario Crossing" - which was rushing water and knee high. At approximately 21kms we hit the Conant Road aid station. I felt we were making really good time, to the point that I doubted my memorized splits. We were about 30 minutes faster than anticipated. 

Mario Crossing on the first lap.

The course is an out and back, so we made our way back the way we came, the Pine Loop Trail already started looking deteriorated from the rain and foot traffic. Looking at splits on Strava, we were moving through this about 30 sec/km slower than the first time around. We were still able to move, but it definitely was not as efficient, and that was entirely due to the trail conditions worsening.

Thankfully, we got to the ATV trail and were able to run most of it. Even though the ATV trails were wider, they still had a decent amount of ups and downs and rocky and muddy parts. It was not an opportunity to "switch your brain off and run", as it was about making sure you picked an efficient non-slippery line. 

The "back" part of the out-and-back laps did not make us run the Bradford Hill Trail in reverse, so after the Pine Loop Trail we took the ATV trail directly towards the Middle Earth Aid Station, where we then proceeded to go up the Rock Stairs. 

Going up this portion of the course and the subsequent climbs was basically running up a river during this downpour. The entire trail had an inch of water flowing downhill, and then on a few of the roller sections ankle-deep puddles of water had formed. It was remarkable to see how much this trail section had changed from only a few hours prior. 

I was careful running downhill in the water, as I didn't want to slip or trip on any wet hidden objects. Once we crossed this section we went back into the ATV trail and again through the 2.5kms of Homestead Trail. This section of the trail got very muddy, our shoes were suctioned to the bottom at times. Mud started to cake to the bottom and sides of my shoes and I had to hold onto some of the surrounding foliage to keep my balance. My shoes started to weigh a lot more, with the water retention and the extra mud caked to the sides.

We ended up finishing this trail and the subsequent ATV trail, to complete our first lap of 4 in about 5:35. Which was comfortably in my budgeted time to finish the four laps within the 32-hour cutoff. Based on some of the data that I had compiled, if the first lap was more than 6 hours - then the chances of finishing diminished considerably. Runners slow down with subsequent laps. The race conditions in 2025 were so bad and the trails deteriorating with time, the already razor thin margins of a 6-hour first lap were even thinner. 

I made the call to swap into my older, dry trail shoes (Altra Lone Peak 6 - with about 600kms on them) dry socks, and a new dry t-shirt under my rain jacket. Wrung out the insoles of my Lap 1 shoes and left them to dry. A gentleman was crewing his relay team and had offered me warm broth and food before I went out, which I gladly accepted. It took me about 20-minutes to turn around and start the second lap.

LAP TWO: THE MUD LAP - 11:54AM - 5:54 RACE TIME

The worst of the rain had subsided, but I kept my rain jacket until midway through lap 2. We were plugging away through the muddy bits with a walk/run combination, taking advantage of the runnable sections. Back onto the Ridge Trail, which at this point was no long a river flowing downhill - there were just sporadic ankle-high puddles of water, otherwise was pretty dry. 

We were running, Greg, Myself, Emma (who appeared to be a local celebrity based on applause she got from the aid station) and another runner. Emma seemed to be running consistently on the "runnable areas", but we overtook her on the steep downhill section of the Rock Stairs and the Ridge trail. 

When we hit the Middle Earth Aid station, my watch beeped for the third time, indicating the 30-mile mark of the course.  

You got a friend in me.

You got a friend in me. 

You got your wet feet and I've got mine too. 

Together there ain't anything we can't do.

It's only 70 miles till our nice warm bed, oh you've got a friend in me.

By 30 miles (48kms) and 7 hours into the race, it was nice enough outside to take the rain jacket off. By this time in the event, I wanted "keep up" with the 24-hour pace for as long as possible. ~6.7km/hour, that I knew eventually would catch up with me. 

We continued onto the next few sections. It became clear to me that the hillside trails would be fine for the remainder of the race since they drained well, but the riverside trails would be a struggle with slippery mud. After many "near-misses" I asked Greg over/under 5 spills over the next 100kms. Both Ian, who was with us at the time, and Greg took the over. 

The second go-around the Pine Loop Trail was when I started seeing the pointlessness of trying to keep my feet dry. The mud and water were unreal, with my older and less grippy shoes it felt like a slip n' slide and at one point I went tumbling forward while tripping on a mud-covered rock. 

I did not have my phone on me to receive text messages, but my friend Bruce was refreshing the "live tracking" attentively, and sending me updates, which I discovered after the race. 

Writing this at 4:23pm local time.
Mid lap 2.
You’re looking strong.
20th place of 60 individuals.
Conditions must be miserable.
Keep going buddy!

At some point past the Pine Loop Trail, I reminded Greg that at the turnaround it'll be the furthest he'd ever been. His previous "longest distance" had been with me during the 60km Dobson Thru-Hike.

For a brief moment, the scene from the Lord of the Rings popped into my head. With "Middle Earth" as one of the aid station, I tried to think of other Lord of the Rings themed memes or jokes, but didn't come up with any. 

We blasted through the Conant Aid Station and quickly made our way back to the mud. The Mario Crossing had calmed down a bit.

Back towards the forever-muddy Pine Loop Trail with Greg. There was a 5-man relay race taking place at the same time as the solo 100-milers. The relay racers got to skip the Pine Loop Trail, I would be lying to you if I said that the temptation was not there to follow suit.

About midway through the Pine Loop, after a few steps where my shoes suctioned to the bottom, I had to re-tie my shoe as my laces were undone - this caused a separation between Greg and I. He ended up moving up the trail, and I was stuck behind Emma and another runner who was struggling to get food down. I did not realize it at the time, but we were moving much slower than Greg. By the time we cleared the loop and I could pass, I could not see Greg anymore, and I had not kept up with my nutrition enough to have the energy to catch up to him. I got to chat a bit with Emma. She mentioned that she thought we did the descent of Ridge Trail "dangerously fast". 

The shoes getting untied was not a one-time thing, it happened over and over again. As we got into the mud, or brushed against trees, they would get untied. Double knot, single knot, did not matter, I tried lacing them tighter, which seemed to hold for a time.

The beginning of my semi-solo adventure started as I went past Emma and the other guy. The way back to Middle-Earth was pretty straightforward, it was still day, clear weather, and I was in a reasonably good mood. They had set up a balloon archway to welcome us back. I made it back to the Ridge Trail and up the Rock Staircase thinking I had a soft-goal of not going down the staircase in the dark.

Writing this at 5:18pm local.
You’re the 19th person to go through the lap 2
“middle back” checkpoint.
You must have passed someone.
No addition DNFs yet. Two DNFs total.
Fantastic effort.

Got back onto the ever-muddy and wet Homestead Trail. This trail just ended up caking my shoes in mud. I had a bit of a down moment here, presumably because I was not keeping up with my caloric needs. The nausea caused by aid station Tailwind was taking its toll. At the end of the trail and going down the ATV road to the Start/Finish, I met up with Greg who had already started his third lap. I assessed that he was probably about 2kms, and ~20 minutes ahead of me at this time. 

I completed the second lap in 6:44, at 6:38 PM to be greeted by my wife and two kids, mom, and Greg's wife and baby. Having the crew there was a nice little bonus. I told my wife that the gnocchi that we had prepared tasted like plastic and was not appealing, and that I was having trouble eating the Cliff bars that I had prepared. Nerd gummy clusters was the only thing that tasted appealing. I switched back to my original Altra Lone Peak 7 running shoes, swapped for dry socks and my t-shirt for a dry one. Asked about the "expected minimum" temperatures for overnight to determine if I needed long pants. I decided against putting on pants overnight based on the information. I also took my poles, as I thought the rest of the race would be mostly hiking - and that they would help stabilize me with the mud. I could feel some blisters forming between my toes, and on a few spots, but nowhere that slowed me down. 

I was able to consume some food, broth, and a high-carb Skratch mix during the 22-minutes pit stop at the car. My wife mentioned that we were on 28-or 29 hour pace, but I told her that the subsequent laps would likely be slower because the mud had slowed down parts of the course. The real food made me feel a bit better. Because of the technicality of the terrain and the mud - I was prepared to hike most of the night, and conserve energy for when the sun came up. 

LAP THREE: THE NIGHT LAP - 7:00PM - 13:00 RACE TIME

Lap 3 started in a slight jog and quickly caught up to Ian who also had his hiking poles and was willing to walk/hike most of the night. He thought that we would be able to hike the entire lap in 7 hours, which I thought was ambitious. I might have been able to go ahead of him, but truthfully our plans of hiking all night aligned well, and he was also moving at a reasonable hiking pace, so I stayed with him for nearly the entirety of the night loop. 

7:22 local.
Starting lap 3.
6 DNFs now.
I think you are in 13th place leaving the aid station and within 8 minutes of 3 people!
Wow! I know you’re not seeing these silly updates live, but I thought they’d give you some fun facts for later.

Ian was solid company, if there's ever a Riverlands Trivia at the bar, you probably want him on your team. 

"Val (race director) hates hearing that Riverlands is an easy 100 miler." 

(crossing Billy) 

"Billy is going for his 500 mile buckle (5 finishes) I am really pulling for him" 

"Every year, Val gives the course a nickname, one year it was "the hot one""

I probably forgot half the stuff he mentioned. 

Homestead was as muddy as ever, and we pushed to get to the rock staircase before it got dark. He knew these trails quite well and assured me we would be getting down the rock staircase at sunset - and that's exactly what happened. Near sunset, we got to that point, and there were no visibility issues getting down. 

He was familiar with New Brunswick and a lot of Atlantic Canada, even mentioned chiac, the local French/English dialect.

8:37 local
Mid lap 3
9 DNFs now.
You’re making amazing progress.

The trails were still insanely muddy at night, but I didn't mind so much with the company. We caught up to a guy who was moving extremely slowly. At 97km he was already asking about cutoffs. We were well ahead of any cutoffs, but his knees had locked up was moving at a pace that I doubted he would be able to finish.

9:55 local time.
17 DNFs now.
Your toughness is inspiring. Says the guy who’s heading to bed, as you run all night.
Good luck! 

Two kms away from Conant I crossed Greg again, who was now ~4 kms ahead of me. I  abandoned the idea of catching up to him, as he was already 40 to 50 minutes ahead and moving well. When I got to the Conant Road aid station (101kms), I ate some real food (grilled cheese, soup, etc.), but I still had some issues getting the calories down due to some nausea. Hot food seemed to go down ok. As we were chowing down and standing idle for just a few minutes, I started feeling cold as the wind picked up - time to get moving again. 

Ian kept me company and we spend 8 hours talking about all sorts of things throughout the night. We inevitably crossed all sorts of people ahead and behind us, and exchanged "good job", "good work", "keep it up". By this time, a bunch of people were no longer smiling, having been worn down by the whipped cream texture of the mud, and having had wet feet for the better part of the last 18 hours. 

The race leader offered only a grunt of acknowledgement. 

At around 110kms, I started developing a mild pain in the front of my ankle. I may not have noticed at first because I had taken Tylenol and it was not an issue, I assumed it was just one of those aches that would eventually go away. 

During the toughest points throughout the night, when I wanted to quit and my ankle began to bother me, a memory of my daughter kept coming up in my mind...

"That's my Papa!" she exclaimed proudly. 

It's what she tells her friends at daycare when I pick her up, before she runs to me and jumps in my arms. 

Other times, I told myself that she really wanted to return to the pirate ship and that the only way to get there is for me to finish and accept my buckle. 

I told myself that I brought my family down here, I better finish. That training for this 100 miler sacrificed so much time and energy away from them. I owed it to them to make good on this commitment.

At the end of the third lap, I ran into Greg, he was now ~6kms and about 1h20 ahead of me. I asked him where the Tylenol was in the car, and he said that he had it in his bag. I took what I needed from him and went on. He said he was feeling OK. It was a relief to see him start his 4th lap.

It was 3:20AM when I got back to the car. Ian and I completed the lap in ~8:19. Ian mentioned that he wanted to make a quick turnaround between laps 3 and 4, and I sort of agreed. No point in sticking around long. 

 I wanted to eat as much as possible, my stomach was not agreeing with me, and I believed the culprit was the Tailwind that I took at each Aid Station. I stuck to water and real foods from then-on. I swapped my socks again, but kept my same shoes. The ~20 minutes of dry socks made it very much worth it. My right ankle was hurting me, but it didn't feel "injured" yet. When I got back up to get to the aid station and talked to the volunteers, one of the volunteers seemed "VERY" concerned with me [maybe I was misreading his energy?, it was 3:30AM]. 

"Don't worry! You're looking amazing! You got plenty of time, take your time, what do you need? Eat some real food!"

In my head I'm thinking... I'm not worried. All things that I knew, and was planning on, but his enthusiasm made me think there was something wrong with me. 

I ate a bunch of bacon, sandwiches, and they had coffee.
Nothing before this point went down well, until I had the coffee. I drank that hot coffee so fast it surprised me.  

The aid station crew packed me a "To go" bag with a hot grilled cheese sandwich,  and off I went.

LAP FOUR: MND GAMES - 3:28AM - 21:28 RACE TIME

I turned around that aid station in only 8 minutes. As I left, I felt like I forgot something because it was so fast. As I got further and further away from the Start/Finish, I started being cognizant that a lot of the people I was crossing had little chance of finishing. I didn't know the exact cutoff times, but I could do basic arithmetic in my head, and those who were ~8kms behind me were very close to not finishing. 

 I don't remember much of the first part of the lap, except that the first trail had started to dry up and get faster. It was the first time that "the course got faster" made sense. I think I went down the rock stairs as the sun was coming up and I think I was solo, but I really can't remember. Though the timeline does line up.

I was alone for a lot of this lap, and all I remember was my ankle pain progressively getting worse. I looked at my watch a bunch, and tried to maintain the12:00min/km pace for an extended period of time, which went out the window as soon as I hit the Pine Loop.

 6:06am Sunday local
Good morning. 35 of 60 runners have DNFd. 
My buddy Nick is not one of them. I knew it! Last lap. Halfway out.
You are in 9th place! And seem to be moving at a quick pace. Incredible! 

During the Pine Loop section, I started peeing a lot. Every 5 minutes or so, it seemed like I was peeing despite feeling thirsty. I definitely felt dehydrated. My brain wasn't working great because of the fatigue, and I may have started to get a tad paranoid due to the sleep.

I wanted to get to the aid station as fast as possible, and I thought "for health reasons" I should tap out at Conant Road. But then visions of the letter I had left Bruce popped in my head,

"Unfortunately, dehydration is not on the list." 

I imagined him saying that, in his voice. Dehydration is a fixable issue, especially in these moderate temperatures.

I expected to see Greg ~8kms ahead of me, since he seemed to gain about 2km per "half lap". For about 10 minutes, I worried that he had dropped at Conant or got lost. I had caught up a bit, as we crossed when he was only around ~4kms ahead. Or roughly 45 minutes. He said he was done with this race and that he had slowed down. 

I didn't stop long to chat, continued onto the aid station. Once I got there I told them about my issue about peeing too much, hoping one of them had a solution. One of the volunteers said "Peeing? That's a good thing, right?" For some reason I didn't think so.

At the aid station, I dropped my poles and leaned over the table as I directed the volunteers. This late in the race, volunteers outnumber runners at a 3:1 ratio, so you can  get the royal treatment if you can communicate your needs. I ate a bunch of bacon, cheese quesadilla and chocolate bars (Snickers were delicious). Had them pour me some water, Coca Cola and ginger ale. I probably drank about 1L of fluids at the station on top of filling up both water bottles. There was only 20kms left to the race, and I had more than 6 hours to complete it before the 32 hour cutoff. It was very doable.

Leaving the aid station, I see Ian cresting the hill in what looked like a sprint. He was asking about missing a cutoff or something. Reality was we had a healthy cushion to finish - we had done the work in the past three laps to put us in a good position.

9:19am local. 
41 of 60 runners have abandoned.
It must be really tough out there.
You are in 10th place (I think).
Half a lap remaining.
Hoping the legs are not locking up.
Good luck!

On my way out, I had yet to solve the issue about peeing, but I was happy that I had had a bunch of fluids. I remember the course drying up and getting faster but I was moving as slowly as ever.  This was the part of the event that I had to internalize a bunch of thoughts and dissociating with my body as my ankle pain was some of the worst I'd ever have to endure in my life. 

I had to live in my head for a while. 

That's my Papa!

Unfortunately, hallucinations is not on the list!

That's my Papa! 

Foot blisters is not on the list!

That's my Papa!

Beep!

Only 10 more miles till my nice warm bed. 

That's my Papa! 

That's my Papa! 

A sudden sharp pain in my right foot snapped me back to reality. A blister formed in a sensitive spot between my toes and was not the type of pain I could ignore for more than 10 steps. I took off my shoe and my sock. Located the blister, removed one of the safety pins holding my bib, and popped the blister. Shoe and pulled my sock back on... and I practically rip the sock in two.

Tested my foot again there is no sharp pain. I can continue in my delirium in mostly peace.

I left the Pine Loop Trail and made my way to the ATV trail towards Middle Earth.
Despite having done this section of trail multiple times already, I had no memory of this place. 

The markers were there to indicate I was on the right path, but getting to Middle Earth felt so long I thought I had taken a wrong turn. It was nice out. There was a dazed emptiness in my head. It felt like it took three hours before I reached Middle Earth when in reality it was only one. Many times I thought I heard voices behind me, I turned to see nobody. Other times I thought I heard movement in the trees, but it was likely the sound of my own footsteps.

I had moment of clarity where I was convinced my brain needed sugar. Wow! It was convenient the that I had all of these maple syrup gels in my pockets. I took one, and within a few minutes I was once again thinking clearly. 

It was at this moment that it clicked: I was likely experiencing low electrolyte balance - hyponatremia. The kidneys use electrolytes to reabsorb water back into the bloodstream. Literally, all I needed was electrolytes, and I would stop peeing so much. I was also able to roughly calculate how far the Middle Earth Aid Station was from my location — and I wasn’t far.

Seeing the aid station, I hike towards them as they applaud my progress. 

"What can I get for you?" 

I need electrolytes! 

They had a container of Salt Sticks, (salt pills). I took three right then and there, drank some Coke Cola and aid station food. Since I got away from Tailwind, the food had been going down much better. 

I had pickles, a snickers bar, quesadilla, salted potatoes, you name it, I ate it. I hadn't noticed, but the tailwind-caused nausea was gone. 

I asked about cutoffs, and they said that I was about two hours ahead of cutoffs and to not worry about cutoffs.

My ankle was hurting a lot, could not lift my toes nor dorsiflex my foot without pain. Guess what? I discovered dorsiflexion is part of your normal walking gait, and there were still about 10,000 steps to the finish line. I had figured out too late that from tying my shoes over and over and over again, I had tightened them too tightly which aggravated the tendons on the front of my ankle. Every step was now agony. Completely self inflicted.

The roughly 8kms from Middle Earth to the Start Finish are a blur. 

11:46am local Sunday.
Final leg!
Only 18 survivors.
You’re going to make it ! And I believe you’re in 11th place.
So amazing.

I replayed in my head, my daughter saying:

"That's my Papa!" thousands of times. Over and over...rewind and replay. The only thing keeping me moving those last two hours was the knowledge that I would see my family and especially my daughter at the finish line. 

That's my Papa!

That's my Papa!

That's my Papa!

Clinging onto one of my happiest memories.

I was moving slowly, unable to run, but still able to limp one step at a time towards the finish. Each step more painful than the last.

Closer and closer. 

With about 2kms to the finish line, some guy I hadn't seen all race passed me.

Unlike previous races, there was no such finish line burst this day. I had absolutely hit my limit and my pain threshold.

Holding it together for what felt like an eternity, tolerating that amount of pain and delirium to focus on just moving forward took its toll. When I saw my family at the end, I lost it. Emotionally I couldn't contain it, and the tears came out. 

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I finished in officially 30:20:39.

Greg about 50 minutes faster!

********************************************

This year was the toughest in Riverlands history, with only 28% (17/60) of starters finishing.  And two guys from Moncton were amongst them, keeping the New Brunswick streak alive! That might be a story to tell my grandkids one day.

I returned to my hotel with a bunch of congratulatory messages on messenger. We did not go to the awards ceremony as Greg and I were both completely destroyed, neither could walk. To get to the hotel room, we both needed to take a ride on the hotel baggage trolley.

This was easily the most difficult thing I've ever accomplished in my life. That may have been partly my fault caused by mistakes along the way, having caused my own ankle issues, and not sufficiently monitoring salt intake, relying on Tailwind, etc.  

I wanted to avoid the mud at Gaspésia, so I instead got "The Mud Year" at Riverlands.
Life is funny sometimes.

Those who picked the under were correct. 3 wipeouts and about 15 'near misses'.

Finally...

Thanks to Riverlands and to the Trail Monsters running group for hosting a great event. This course is a real trail race; challenging physically and emotionally. It just wears you down over time, there are no moments to just relax.

To the supporters who sent me good vibes and messages during the race.

To Bruce and Greg who for months were my training partners and accountability checks.

To my support crew and family who motivated in person and in spirit to not quit and to keep moving. I'm so grateful for you in my life. 

Thank you, love you guys. 

Chiggy Ultra - Millbrook's Revenge

 

Chiggy Ultra - Millbrook's Revenge

40 days after having earned my buckle, I was foolishly back at the Chiggy Ultra. 

Some would argue that 40 days is not enough time to recover, but I won a raffle and got into the race for free - so I thought, why not? 

I was once again face to face with the race that humbled me. [Link here]

Now for those who do not know, Cape Chignecto Provincial Park is comprised of the highest cliffs on mainland Nova Scotia - directly across the pond from the Fundy Park and the Fundy Footpath. A 2-hour drive from Moncton.

The trail conditions, however are those of a provincial, not a national, park. 

Barely any sign of civilization.

Rugged and wild. 

Mud, oh the mud.

Single track sections bordered by long grass.

Roots and rocks. 

Hills, some steep, some long.

A few river crossings (with bridges thankfully).

Amazing views and sights on a clear day.

Chiggy is an unquestionably difficult ~50km ultra. The 2000m of elevation gain/loss alone makes it challenging, but then you add the mud, the rocks and the technical terrain. It makes it both a challenge of endurance, AND skill. 

To prove my point, let me compare the pace distribution for a few of the local ~50km races:

• 52 km race at Capes in 2019
• 46km race at Capes in 2022, 2023
• 48km Fundy Circuit in 2019
• 53km Chiggy Ultra in 2022, 2023

The time to complete a typical Chiggy kilometer is much longer than at these other races. 

***

Woke up at 3:00am and drove from home. I arrived on-sight at 5:10am to pick my bib. 
I coincidentally get handed my favorite number #79, chat with Joel Taylor, met Allison MacFadden (running superstars) at the start line, and get ready for the start.

At 6:00am, runners corralled past the green gate of the park entrance.
John the Race Director read us the Runner's Creed.  

 

The Runner's Creed

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Ran on every trail twice

Hugged everyone once 

Seen porcupines stuck

Fought off three hungry bears 

And I know a man in Spenser's Island with a dog named Willy

I climbed more vert, got dirt on my shirt, more than any dirty vert climber around. 

I've a scarred body, never rested, sleepy, weepy, creepy, stiff legged, hallucinating, 

double salt tabs, trail running dirtbag.

There isn't a trail I'll say no to.

No vert too steep, no rain too hard, no descent too rough. 

Been in a lot of pain caves in my life.

Never attack a large hill with a small attitude. 

Wore all kinds of Bois in my life. Phatt Bois, Flat Bois, Toed Bois and those nasty Bois 

with Goat Spikes screwed in to keep me topside on icy trails. 

Any hill in life worth running up is worth doing repeats on.

I'm a lover, I'm a fighter, I'm a day or night badass trail runner. 

I'll drink beer, persevere and sneak out the back door when my work is done.

So if you are feeling antsy then you'd better run because this trail runner's been there, done that and going back for more. 

Cheers guys

Deb and John Collicott

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"Alright you can head-on out" 

There was a bit of confusion I think because of the casual nature of the word "Go".  

A hundred headlamps moving through the darkness towards the park. 

It was a very cold morning, people were shivering at the starting gate, but I knew it would not be long before things warmed up. Despite knowing this (it might have been because of the 3:00am wakeup call) - I kept my jacket on. 

Last year, I went out too fast, blew up the quads early on, and struggled for the last 30km of the race -  ignorant of the park's difficulty. This year, I knew what to expect. I knew the torture chamber would be difficult and long, and was familiar with Refugee Cove and Mill Brook climbs. 

From the word "Go", I started walking down the main road - fiddling with my watch. I did not need to use the "Ultra Run" mode, because I had a full battery. About a minute after the start and 100m into the race, my watch started recording, and I was able to focus on what was ahead.

Taking things easy, I walked the downhill, and hiked the uphill. It was apparent that I had developed into a decent climber throughout the summer, as I was passing a whole bunch of people with little effort. That first hill had a "passing lane", a few of the runners ahead of me were leading the charge, and I gladly followed along. 

You couldn't really make heads or tails of the people around you, all you saw was the trail and headlamps. 

About a kilometer into the run we pass by the first post with a red sign "1km". A bit further was a large arrow pointing to the right - "Chiggy Runners", towards the McGahey Brook Trail. Still quite dark outside, you could only see the multiple lights ahead of you. Somehow I ended up immediately behind Luc Doucet, in a train of about 5 to 10 runners. There were 5 runners ahead of me, and I did not really look behind, but there were definitely some behind. 

"Oh hey Luc"
"Who is that"
Not really sure if we were on first-name basis yet...
"It's Nick"

We were moving pretty easily, across some water crossings. The first 2kms were not too muddy, and everybody in this group were being cautious, finding various alternative paths off the main trail when there were wet spots. For most of the wet spots, a few feet off to the right or to the left was sufficient to avoid the soaked ground. 

At some spots, I was happy that I had taken my poles to "test" some of the wet spots. We were moving at a decent/easy speed up this trail. The effort unfortunately started heating me up in my rain jacket. 

"Wait, which Nick?!?"

Ahead, I see two headlamps running the wrong way. 

"Ignore us"
"You're going the right way"
"We're just dumb"

These two had missed the initial turn and were doing a "reverse" McGahey - but also adding ~2.5km to their total run. 

At around 2.5km into the run, Luc decides that he's warm, and stops to take off his jacket - I continue on for about 10 minutes and step off the trail to take off my jacket and go for a quick pee. I had turned off my headlamp. A few people passed me, and then I was back on my way - alone. 

I did not think that I spent that much time putting the jacket in my backpack, but when I looked up there was nobody. I then ran down the trail and tried my best to avoid the wet spots, but it is tougher when you're alone. I had eventually caught up to somebody and started talking to Troy from Fredericton - he was planning on two laps today. As we made our way towards the end of the 5km McGahey Brook trail, a downhill towards the main trail - Troy steps off the path to do something and I was alone. 

Near this time the headlamps started being optional, and the temperatures were crisp, cool, nice. 

Having felt that I lost some time, and that people who were closer to my pace had moved on ahead, I felt some pressure to make up for lost ground. I pushed somewhat hard on the downhill, crossed a wooden bridge - and then came  the second significant climb of the race at 8km into the race. I could see some of the headlamps ahead on the switchbacks ahead and had set myself the goal to catch up to them. 

Making quick work of the hill and onto the first switchback. I look back and see no headlamps coming from McGahey. I knew there were 7 or 8 people ahead in a group, and soon enough I see 3 of them stopped at the first "sight seeing" point of the route, about 1/3 into the climb. They were taking off their jackets or taking a breather from the initial effort, soon enough I could tell I was going to catch up to the group. Though my breathing was controlled and my legs felt fine, my heart rate shot up to ~170, which confirmed my fears that my body was fighting a cold. 

Nora had started daycare a week prior, and like every 2-year old who starts daycare, brought home a cold - which meant I was starting a cold. 

I got behind a group of four runners. I think Matthew Burke was leading the group. I could have pushed through and passed them, but I thought I would do the cautious thing and allow somebody else to dictate my pace. After climbing slowly,  Emily and Robyn ask to pass on the uphill and everybody steps aside for them. 

As we crest the hill, more people ask Matthew to pass, and pretty soon it is just the two of us. This next section had some easy running, with the odd water/mud section. Matthew would gain 100s of meters on me when I tried to circumnavigate the wet spots, but then I caught up periodically. We were like a bungee cord never snapping, just lengthening and shortening at times. 

At some point the two guys who had taken the initial wrong turn had come up behind us, passed quickly, and were out of sight.

I was taking my sweet ol' time here. Walking in places I could have been running, eating some clif bars and croissants I had packed, enjoying the trail beauty and using my poles strategically to avoid walking in the water crossings. 

Behind me, people were catching up on the Eatonville trail. I planned on just running with them until the Eatonville Aid station. It was a woman with long pink compression socks (Cathy), and Luc Doucet, who I was surprised had not yet passed me.

We started chatting a bit, and Cathy was leading the charge... she mentioned she is a road runner, so the Eatonville trail was right up her alley - with little technical difficulty. The three of us were running quite well together and soon caught up to Matthew Burke. The memory is a bit fuzzy here, but I believe four of us ran mostly together until the aid station at around 17kms. We emerged from the trail and ran on a dirt road until we saw the bunkhouse and volunteers.

Eatonville Aid Station - 16km - 2h45

Race time was around 2:45 when I arrived at the Bunkhouse, much slower to last year 2:20. Aid Station transition was quite fast, refilled water, drink Coca Cola... a bunch of people at the station when we got there. Luc was waiting for me, stretching by the exit road.

We left the Eatonville Aid quickly, and ran down the road behind these two army kids (they had camo bucket hats with "Army" on the front of their shirts") Matthew in tow.

Army guys ran up the trail and dropped us on the way to seal Cove. Luc and I were moving quite well through the trail, and we were doing decent in avoiding some wet feet at the few boggy bits.

There was a steep incline somewhere around 20km, (where I distinctly remember losing function in my quads last year) and we dropped Matthew on the climb. He was doing 2 laps, which made sense that he would slow down a bit. Luc and I were also both registered for 2 laps, but I think both of us were thinking only 1 lap, and "we'll see how we feel at the end of the loop". At some point, we caught up to Cathy, who led us towards the torture chamber. Luc was tapping all of the km signs as we passed them "for good luck". 

The three of us tackled the chamber in an OK way, each taking our respective turn to lead the group. Cathy was talking about how she splits her year into Crossfit and Running, and Luc talked about how he marked this park as his territory last year and the Divide 200.

A bit ahead, we all passed the Army kids who had stopped and were drying off their socks.

Every time we passed one of those muddy, boggy sections Luc complained loudly, 

"Why don't they just bring some rakes and get rid of this effing mud!" 

"This trail would be so much nicer if they only used some rakes once in a while."

I don't know anything about trail maintenance, but he seemed pretty peeved that nobody was bringing rakes in the middle of nowhere to manicure a lightly used trail.  

At some point, I lost patience with finding dry paths on the trail. Going around the muddy bits was just not efficient, and I was getting my feet wet and muddy anyways, so I just decided to trudge along through the mud.

Because of poles, I did not have free hands and I got a bit behind with calories. I also focused on chatting with the other runners and the mud puddles instead of nutrition. Then there's the unevenness of the terrain. If you do not have the secondary stabilizer muscles ready for this run, everything just takes a beating. The ankles and knees and hips, and back, and everything in between just gets beat up to the point where, once you get to a runnable section - you need to actually muster up the willpower and courage to do so, it doesn't come naturally anymore. 

At some point Luc, Cathy and I got separated. I felt like I didn't want to do this thing anymore. Cathy moved ahead at her regular pace, and Luc had stopped to chat with a hiker he knew.  I was running alone reminiscing why I was here. It was thankfully a beautiful day, and we got some amazing views of the New Brunswick coastline at the extremely exposed sections of the trail. Weaving back and forth from forest to rocky surface to forest. One of the Army kids had caught up to me and passed (he was running strong), and then a train of like 6 people were running and asked to pass me. I was surprised I was ahead of so many people. I was munching down on my croissants to get me out of this energy lull and gladly stepped aside for this group. 

Past this point and eagerly needing to drink some water and replenish some food, and maybe just take a break. I got into a section of uneven mud and rocks and coming from the other way was Shane Patelakis and Tyler Isbister - two volunteers who were set up at the upcoming aid station. Talked with these two for a few minutes "It's going terribly, and I don't want to talk about it, but also, Hey!"

Big Bald Aid Station - 30.5km - 6h05 

A few short minutes after meeting up with these two, I eventually make my way up the trail and into the second Aid Station. I needed to replenish my stash of croissants (the only thing that was going down easily). Clif Bars were no longer appetizing. As I got to the Aid Station, Tony Fromm and Eric were running around and making sure runners were well supported. I refilled my water bottles, and grabbed some gummies and assorted foods from the tables - and made my way towards my drop bag, search and search - at some point, defeated, I surmised that somebody must have grabbed my drop bag. There were an identical bag to mine that was there, but it was filled with perogies and other stuff I did not recognize - and definitely not my pop tarts and croissants. 

Luc caught up to me and asked me how I was doing. I gave him a look that said it wasn't going well, and I'm sure I complained loudly that I could not find my drop bag. I was a full 20 minutes slower than last year coming into this Aid Station. 
Luc turned it around pretty quickly and left the Big Bald Aid Station quickly, it took me a few additional minutes to get settled. 

Feeling dejected about my lack of Pop Tart options, I filled my ziplock bags as best as I could with chips, candies and other assorted foods for the next section. 

Despite my attempts at slowing down during the race start (Start to Eatonville) to try to suffer less and be more efficient on the Torture Chamber section - I was only able to make up two minutes versus last year between Eatonville and Big Bald. I was still tracking around 20 minutes slower overall. 

Leaving the Big Bald Aid Station unenergized, and with my pockets full of cookies and candies, I attempted to catch up to Luc again before he developed too much of a gap to catch up. I caught up to Cathy again and a small group of people on the next climb, and instead of passing them I stuck with them for a little while. We crossed both the Big Bald Brook and then the Little Bald Brook by picking out our pathway across the large pile of accumulated driftwood. On the other side was a subtle stone staircase that got us to the trail at the top of the next section of trail. 

As we started exiting the Torture Chamber - the trail conditions slowly starting to improve into more and more runnable sections. Cathy and I continued to chat as I think we dropped some of the other runners. We talked about our kids and our lives, and she mentioned that she was surprised to hear me running so well considering my daughter has started daycare a week prior. 

"Typically kids get sick and pass it onto their parents when they start daycare."

I don't exactly know why I was feeling less "powerful" than I had anticipated. I could have been starting a cold, and my early heart rate data would support this. I could have been in a caloric deficit, I could have simply had an off day, or... and this was probably the case - it also takes more than a month to recover from a 100 miler. These all sound like excuses, and they probably are...

As we were moving along the final bits of the western coastline towards the south-western peak (Devil's Slide Cove) we accidentally continued towards the "sight-seeing" trail and not the main trail and had to double-back, adding about 3 minutes to our total time. We got passed by Emily and Robyn while on our little misadventure, and caught up to them a while later. Still mostly hiking through the difficult terrain, we trudged our way through mud. Though around the 35-37km, running started being possible again. We started moving from ~13:00/km to low 11:00/km and it was during these runnable sections that I noticed my lack of "umph" - what should have been routine trail running was laboured, heavy, and without finesse. The people running with me were moving further and further away.

Soon enough will be the climbs - first up was Refugee Cove Climb.  I was feeling weak - not enough calories, despite trying to stuff my face as much as possible at the last aid station. 

Lack of calories led to moodiness. But still accepted the company. 

Local Adventure Guy (Laurie Currie) came down Refugee Cove and linked up with Cathy- I power hiked to the top of Refugee at a half-decent pace with them. Having done this race in the past year, I knew it there was still some way until the next Aid Station, though the next section was finally runnable. I trotted slowly through this section, trying to keep up with Cathy and Laurie. 

Mill Brook Aid Station - 44km - 9:05 

At the last aid station, I was super tired. I got there at 9:05 Race time, which was still 20 minutes slower than last year. Adam Harris was manning it with a few other souls - I think he was dressed as a pirate. Adam is one of the most badass humans - he completed his first 100 miler running 3 loops of the Chiggy Ultra. We talked few a few minutes as I try to stuff my face with coca cola and Oreo cookies. Lamented how my race was going. But he reminded me that I had just finished a 100 miler a month prior, and that a down performance was sort of expected. 
 
Adam Harris' Blog Entry

I left there, feeling ok. Knew there was only 8kms left to the course and then I could go home. I've had my fill of Cape Chignecto for the day. Trudged along with a bit more energy. Completing the final 8kms was largely a solo effort, though I was rejuvenated. 

Though Laurie and Cathy had left me in the dust a while back, at the aid station, I eventually caught up and passed them. 
I still had my downhill legs that were working, likely because of how gingerly I took the first 50kms of the course. During the last few hills, I allowed myself to power down the hills at maximum speed. Somehow I managed to run a 10:52 race time, which is technically 3 minutes faster than the time I had in 2022. This last section of the course, I ran 23 minutes faster than last year. Crazy.

P.S. I finished the second part of this blog a year and a half after completing the course. Forgot a lot of details from the course. This course is incredibly difficult, and cannot be an afterthought. 

Training for Capes 100 - 100 Miler

Training for 100 miles is physically, mentally and emotionally demanding. It cuts into family time significantly, and you're always sore, moody, tired. 

Training Plan

- Starting in January I started building some volume. 

- February I started a Garmin Intermediate/Advanced training plan, to train for a May Marathon.

- In May I ran the Fredericton Marathon (May 14) as a pace bunny and then the Ottawa Marathon (May 28) 

- Took the first week of June easy and started ramping up with the SWAP Running Intermediate/Advanced 100 Miler plan to structure my weekly running volume and intensity.

• Tried to stay in the mid-range of the recommended mileage for the week. 
• Typically would maximize the midweek runs (Tuesday/Wednesday/Thursday).
• Ran with the ALC Run Club (think couch-to-10k group) on Friday and sometimes on Monday.
• Almost no doubles
• Would not split runs into two runs (i.e. 10 miles means 10 miles, not 5 + 5)
• Skipped almost all Mountain Legs
• Bailed on a few of the long runs.

Weekends consisted of back-to-back long runs, or very long runs:

• 15km in Chignecto + 14km in Centennial Park
• 47km Fundy Circuit
• 24km on Fundy Coastal + 25km in Moncton (Roads + Centennial Park)
• 17.5km North-west Trail + 21.1km in Centennial Park
• 37km Mapleton + Seahorse at Night (lots of weird shit) + 12km Roads
• 48km Cape Chignecto Circuit
• 16km in Centennial Park
• 13km in Centennial Park + 16km on the North-west Trail + 10km  Roads
• 20km in Centennial Park (Taper week)

In all, I had 7 of 8 weeks with +70km, and 4 of those with ~1,500m of elevation, topping out at 100km twice. 

Race makes the 100km week look small.

There is little physical benefit to going much longer than a 50km, it takes so long to recover. 

Weights/Strength

I enlisted a strength coach to assist with strength training, some basic stuff to prevent injury as my training load increased, and also to be able to sustain the load on race day. Did this 1 or 2, 30 minute sessions per week.

Legs

• Bulgarian Split Squats
• Single Leg Press
• Calf Extensions
• Single Leg Extensions
• Lunges
• Toe Raises (helped prevent rolling ankles)

Arms/core

• Lots of shoulder and upper back exercises specifically designed to maximize using poles.
• Rope Press Downs - Triceps focus
• Shoulder Front Raise (Free Weight)
• Shoulder Side Raise (Free Weight)
• Bar Pull Down - Traps  focus
• Rope Rotations

In hindsight, probably could have done a bit more to help with breaking (downhills), Gluteus Medius exercises for stability.

At no point were my arms or upper back tired. 

Nutrition/Hydration

For nutrition, I had prepared gnocchi in a ziplock bag from 0km to 85km, and had a second ziplock back from 85km to the finish.

Ate a Cliff Bar early, but I had no appetite for them after 40km.

Took advantage of chips and watermelon at the Aid Stations between 0km and 85km.

Ate a whole chicken/cheese quesadilla at 41km, 85km and 109km, took one for the road at 41km and 109km.

At night, I took a grilled cheese sandwich and a cup of broth at each aid station (94km, 103km, 118km, 131km, 140km, 149km)

For Hydration/Electrolyte I started with Skratch Pineapple in my bottles - refilled at the aid stations with 1 Tailwind and 1 Water, until I got to 85km and noticed that Tailwind was causing some of my stomach problems. At 41km, 85km and 109km drank a 500ml bottle loaded with Skratch. 

Also filled a few plastic tubes with Skratch powder and carried them with me, and asked the aid station volunteers to fill with Skratch powder as they filled the bottles with water.

Also dipped watermelon in pure salt, twice. 

Mental Game

The key to the success I had was the mental game. I listened to podcasts with John Kelly and Courtney Dauwalter in terms of how the mental game is played. How to extend and shorten your perspective based on how you are feeling at any given time. 

Introspection/Monitoring

 As soon as the stomach became a tiny bit uncomfortable, I noticed the problem immediately and made changes - did not wait until it became catastrophic or too late. 

Feet and hamstring were bugging me early on, which made me change my Topo shoes at 41km (which was not the original plan).

Ensured to stretch whenever things got somewhat tight. Took some Tylenol at 85km and then every 5-6 hours thereafter.

Take stock of my emotions and thoughts that flowed through me, whenever there was a negative thought percolating, I immediately stopped it before it spiraled out of control.  

Control

I would not let myself even think negatively for a second.

I ran my own race, at my own pace - I let Paul or Luc go out ahead if they wanted to, I did not try to chase after a goal pace, or a goal time, I also did not wait for anybody. 

Took advantage of my strengths; runnable downhills, drop bag items, mental calculation, knowledge of the course, effective communication with aid station volunteers, effective communication with my crew in pre-race brief.

Areas to Improve

- My Aid Station times in the latter part of the course were quite slow.

- Come up with a better delivery method for my Skratch mix. 

- There were definitely some times when I could have ran, but did not due to laziness. 

- Could strengthen my quads and knees, especially for steep, muddy downhills - I was not strong enough to deal with them in the latter part of the race. 

- Same with hips.

- Better shoe selection to start the race.

- Arguably I could get a shoe that is a 3-5mm drop and cushioned, and it would be perfect.

- Come up with a way to reduce the number of sock/shirt changes.

- Train better, be more comfortable sustaining a ~140 bpm heart rate. 

- Be more efficient on climbs, heart rate would increase, but I could bring it down with more climbing volume. 

- Don't be afraid to ask for a pacer.

Capes 100 - Journey to 100 Miles

100 miles is very very far, and I have good recall of the events that transpired during this race,
it will be a long blog. Make yourself a cup of tea or coffee.
I hope you enjoy the read.
*********************************************

Capes was not an 8 month training plan,

Capes was not the logical trail running progression from a 50k, to a 50 mile, to a 100 mile. 

No...

Capes was dream. 

A dream so far beyond comprehension and my capabilities at the time,
that participants I had never met, earned my respect, awe, and admiration.
I put those people on a pedestal - even the ones who DNF'ed (did not finish). 

It takes something else to say to yourself: "I will commit to run 100 miles, up mountains and through forests", and line-up at the start-line with a fighting chance of achieving it.  

I think those are called pipe dreams.. you have to smoke an opium pipe to dream about it.

That dream captivated me in the summer of 2018, and pushed me through discomfort, and pain, and fatigue, and that shitty section in Cape Chignecto they call the torture chamber. 

For 5 years I told myself...

One day, I will run 100 miles at Capes.

 

This would be my third time running the Capes 100 event. 

In 2019, I ran the 50km - which was my first ever trail/ultra. 

In 2022, I ran the 85km my longest distance at the time.

In 2023, I would run 100 mile (160km)

The day I shot my shot came on August 12/13, 2023. 

I was not entirely confident in my abilities to finish this race. For one, I ran Cape Chignecto with Paul Leblanc and Krystle Parrot a month prior to the race, and I felt I was the weakest of the three. There was also some overuse injuries popping up in my training, specifically some hip flexor problems and a lot of inflammation of the patellar tendons in both knees. Additionally, my biggest running week was ~100kms with little elevation. 

I had sufficient doubts in myself that I didn't make a concerted effort to find myself a pacer - I would not feel comfortable asking somebody to drive for 4+ hours only for me to discontinue. I would mention to folks asking that "this is my first 100 mile attempt" rather than "this is my first 100 miler".

On the flip side, I had one attempt at this distance - there will not be a next year, or a year after according to Katie, and I knew the course quite well because I had done the 85km last year. 

Friday afternoon was packet pickup. It was nice to link-up with runners I knew from the trail running community. Some from Moncton Trail Running (Paul, Michel, Kym), many from Nova Scotia - some I had not seen in years.

We had a mandatory brief on Friday night where Jodi the Race Director thanked volunteers and other stakeholders for their contributions, talked about the course flagging and race rules. I ignored the part of the brief about quitting and calling a SAT phone - this doesn't apply to me. Because I am not quitting. 

Katie and I drove back to our cabin (Bear Paw Cottages) where I had a large spaghetti supper and I had a great night sleep (though I normally don't sleep well before big races), and we talked about the game-plan for the next day. I had done some analysis and projections for when they should expect me at aid stations that they had access:

----------------------------------------------------------

Crew Access No. 1: Beach

Race Distance: 41.5km (Est. Time ~ 11:30AM - 12:30PM (5:30-6:30 race time))

Crew Access No. 2: Turnaround Point

Race Distance: 85km (Est. Time ~ 7:30PM - 10:00PM (13:30-16:00 race time))

Crew Access No. 3: Cow Pasture Trailhead

Race Distance: 109km (Est. Time ~ 12:30AM - 4:00AM (18:30-22:00 race time))

Finish

Race Distance: 160km (Est. Time ~ 12:00PM - 6:00PM (30:00-36:00 race time))

Extra Stuff

I looked at previous year's race data, and believe my time could be around ~33 hours

Last year: Beach at 5:45 and Turnaround at 15:00

Examples of 2022 runners and times at the crew accessible locations - might give you an idea of pacing. 

1. Beach (41k)	2. Turnaround (85k)	3. Cow Pasture (109k)	4. Finish (160k)
5:53:00	13:46:00	19:00:00	31:06:00
5:35:00	13:16:00	18:42:00	32:17:00
5:40:00	12:52:00	18:38:00	32:50:00
5:16:00	13:10:00	19:18:00	33:18:00
6:58:00	16:25:00	22:05:00	33:49:00
6:00:00	15:23:00	21:23:00	34:15:00
7:03:00	16:28:00	22:12:00	35:49:00

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Note for the non-running reader: An Aid Station is a location on the course where runners can replenish their water, electrolytes, assorted foods, etc. Most are staffed with volunteers that assist the runners in continuing the race, or is a safe place to quit, my crew and family had access to only 3 of the 15 spots. 

Up the next day at 4:30am, eggs and bagel breakfast. Headed out to the start with Katie, Tom, Mario and Dad. 

Oh my nerves. 

Sunrise was at 6:00AM that morning, and so was the race start (how convenient). I linked up with Paul for a quick chat. I just assumed he would leave me behind early-on. We walked near the 2/3 way in the back of the pack to start the race about 5 minutes before the start. I felt relaxed, hopeful and confident. 

Paul and I pre-race.

PART 1: FIRST MARATHON

START TO BEACH (41.5KM)

Capes starts out at the Mabou Gaelic College, on the top of a small hill. For the first 2kms, there was a lot of buzz and chatter - as we run the easy miles on a downhill and on a paved road. The pitter patter of a hundred trail shoes on the pavement, I am probably the only person wearing old minimalist Topos - everybody else looked like they had nice and shiny new Hokas, Salomon, Altras or TNF SuperShoes. 

I crack a joke about 1 mile down, only 99 to go! (Nobody laughed, not even a nervous laugh)

A right hand turn after the bridge got us on softer ground - a dirt road. I knew my strategy had to be to take the early part of the day easy - I was chatting with Paul for the first few kms, but as expected he pulled away from me on the first uphill (about 5km in).

Bye Paul - have a good race, buddy!

Linked up and chatted with a few folks around me; Rick Canning, Michael Gfeller, and a few others on the uphill hike. Similar to last year once we crested the hill, the road became a river where we had to hop on the various exposed large rocks or risk wet feet - it was much wetter this year due to the heavy rainfall in the days prior to the race. 

Still keeping the pace easy, but also recognizing that my strength as a runner are the runnable downhills - I passed a bunch of people in the first runnable downhill section despite being held up by a group of people at a few spots. I don't remember any of the runners' names in this section, but I remember pulling a tree branch and it smacking a runner in the face behind me, as I say "head's up!". And then apologized profusely. The trees were covering the trail in this section so much that the 7:00AM sunlight had not penetrated the tree cover, and it was difficult to identify rocks and obstacles. 
Then around ~9km, no more trees. Daylight!

I recognized this open air section quite well from last year, we were close to the first aid station. I decided to go for a quick sprint as I stretch out my legs up a small hill. I knew there were many runners behind me, and I wanted to be first of my group at the aid station. If I remembered correctly, we would be bending left, Porta-Potty ahead, right turn, and Aid Station #1 up a small hill. 

I made a conscious decision to not waste as much time at aid stations this year - one of my biggest mistakes from last year. I drank only one water bottle on the way there, so the volunteer had an easy job attending to me. As I was waiting for my bottle to be filled, I stuffed a bunch of chips in my mouth, and took some for the road. Within a minute, I was out of the Aid Station. The first few stations can be congested and chaotic, and I wanted to avoid this as much as possible.

Not sure what Paul was doing, but he was still at aid station by the time I was in and out, and we hiked out together. 

Comparing the splits to last year, I was out of this aid station in 1h26m +/- 1 minute in both years. 
This year I was better trained than last year, and I thought it would be reasonable to have similar splits for the first 60kms of the race. 

Paul and I worked harder than I would have liked in the next uphill/downhill section. We ran an easy-grade uphill, and both bombed the downhill and passed like 10 people in the process - including Gillian Hatcher. Once we got to the Beaton climb we were in a train of runners that were going up a with a decent pace on the single track. The Beaton was muddy going up. The higher we went, the drier it got. Though not too difficult an effort for this early, I was thankful that it was not like last year where it felt too easy as I was stuck behind several slower climbers. We passed a few day hikers who were giving out high-fives, and then were met with a few volunteers stationed at a trailhead, making sure runners didn't take a wrong turn. 

The course is composed of 5 notable climbs: 
Beaton - 1.57km, 217m vert at 15km and 99km
MacArthur - 1.76km, 265m vert at 20km and 103km
Steep Mountain - 1.49km, 242m vert at 58km and 132km
Poet's Ridge - 2.62km, 274m vert at 63km and 136km
Alistair - 3.3km, 233m vert at 69km and 142km

We made easy work of the flat section at the hilltop. Paul wanted to take a picture, but couldn't get his phone to work. After a few kms, we started descending Alistair, which gives you the best picture of the coast. I recognized and linked up with a runner from last year Michelle from Barachois (who was running the 46km distance). Through the flat section at the bottom and into McKinnon's aid station. We were in this aid station at 2:36, race time - 5 minutes earlier than my time last year, and even though I chatted with Stuart Thompson (a volunteer) for 2 minutes, was out with a 10-minute lead on what I will hereby refer to as The Ghost of Nick Landry.

Paul had had enough of my chatter nonsense and moved onto the MacArthur Climb without me. The trail leading up to MacArthur sucked. It was wet and squishy. I don't care for anything that might get my feet wet. Debilitating blisters can form later in the race if you're not careful. Even though I was wearing good SmartWool socks, I was taking no risks with my feet. 

Take care of your feet, and they will take care of you in an ultra.

I get in a train behind 3 runners. At the midway point of the MacArthur climb, Josh K decides to step aside for a quick break, so do the other two. He mentioned something about this climb being difficult. I broke the news to him that there's a harder one in ~40kms. I move up ahead and sustain a steady climbing speed until I reach the top. Guess who's waiting for me at the top - it's Paul. We start running a bit in the single track at the top, and Paul takes off again, passing a runner in the meantime. I'm walking some of this section to take in some gnocchi and caught up to a runner with a moapy walk (shoulders slumped, dragging feet, ...) who quickly steps aside for me.

Once at the end of the MacArthur trail, turn right onto a 4-wheeler trail, a long and straight road with slightly overgrown grass, and the trees canopying above made it feel like a long, natural tunnel. I do not see Paul, he is way out ahead of me. I wanted to run with somebody at this time, and the options were either slow down and wait for one of the three from the climb (or slumped shoulder guy), or speed up and catch up to somebody. I waited for somebody - it was Josh, and I start running with him. He was hoping for sub 16h, and I told him I thought he could do it just based on our current pace. We chat for a little while until we get to Cow Pasture trailhead where a few runners are huddled around some stashed water cannisters. I fill mine with tailwind electrolyte mix and head out. Paul had called his wife to have her at the Beach (41km) at a faster time than they initially planned - he was asking me about what time I thought we would be there... 5h30-6:00 (11:30AM-12:00AM) was my answer. This solely based on The Ghosts' times. 

Paul has a nasty habit of running the easy uphills, but I followed him while running up from Cow Pasture towards Broad Cove Banks, which was a rural road. Several large puddles of water in the middle of the road interrupted our progress as we had to find a dry path while bushwhacking. Gillian passed us while we were hiking up, asked about a Porta Potty at the next aid station (I don't know?). She quickly got out of sight, as we link up with Shane Patelakis and a few other runners - I think there are like 5 of us. Shane had offered me some Pork Jerky bites to taste, which tasted nice, but made me cough up a lung for some reason. 

Gillian emerges from the bushes and runs with this group, and the easy trek to the next aid station feels like it takes no time at all. It's a pretty consistent and nonstop descent with big rocks and dirt. By this time, my hamstrings are starting to feel tight and the feet hurt.  Way too early in the day to have to worry about this kind of stuff. We blast through the next aid station and then there's a big road descent into Inverness. On our way down, we are met by a bunch of the faster runners coming back up from the climb - Michel Leblanc, Joel Taylor (friends from Moncton and Truro) amongst them. We cheer the runners on as they climb out of Inverness. 

Once we get to Inverness, we ended up walking on the sidewalk for a while, then Paul asks "shall we run?" 

I was of two minds: 

1. I told my crew an estimated time between 11h30-12h30, and we were looking at 11h30 if we ran both the sidewalks and the beach. If we got there early and they were not ready for me, then we could waste time for no reason. Also my feet and hips were already starting to hurt from the pavement + minimalist shoes AND I still had a full DAY of running left (so I was in no rush).

2. I had the energy to run. 

So we ran the sidewalk, crossed the street, and ran the trail that got us through a golf course and down to the beach, where we had a nice romantic walk on the beach. This gave the crew some time to get ready, plus there is little point actually running on the beach. We got to the end and Paul saw his kids and wife on the beach and went to them. I climbed the stairs and Bradley Fiander (a person I had not seen in years) asked me if I had a crew and if I was taken care of. 

Met up with my wife, sat in a camping chair at 5:43 race-time, a whopping 3 minutes faster than The Ghost. Paul's wife had luckily setup just next to us. Katie was an absolute rock-star, she shoved some quesadilla in my mouth as I was taking off my socks, and was otherwise super organized. 

I drank a whole bottle of water + skratch electrolyte solution, ate a quesadilla and a banana, changed socks, shirt, and shoes, put sunscreen and took a quesadilla for the road. I gave Paul a ~2 minute warning and stretched my hips, hamstrings, and lower back - and was out of the beach in an efficient 14 minutes. I was now 13 minutes ahead of The Ghost. 

PART 2: SO POLES ARE USEFUL, EH?

BEACH TO TURNAROUND (85KM)

I walked up the boardwalk in a better cushioned shoe for a 100 mile - the Altra Lone Peak 6. 

Up the boardwalk, I linked up with Luc Doucet (originally from Riverview, now in HRM), who I've been following online since we both lived in Sackville NB in 2018, but I don't think I'd ever had a conversation with the guy. Paul caught up to us, we turned off the boardwalk up Beach Rd. and the three of us immediately went for a pee in the woods (not crossing swords or anything like that).

Make our way to the road and then up the hill out of Inverness. I did not have poles with me at the time, and Luc had some nice Leki poles and was sales-pitching them to me. Paul was behind us, and I think there was another guy behind him. Luc was making some ground on me during both the uphill and flat sections, and I think the difference of ~5cm per step was from the slight extra push from his poles. I made sure to observe his efficient looking technique. I don't love using poles, but I knew I would be needing them eventually. 

We get back to Broad Cove Banks aid station where I refill some tailwind quickly, and keep moving. One runner asked Luc to wait for her, while Paul and I moved on and made some decent progress. The road between Broad Cove Banks and the next aid station was ~13kms, but it was hands down the easiest part of the entire course. A few rolling hills, nothing overly complicated. I made sure to eat consistently my stashed quesadilla as we moved along, and I was feeling perfectly fine. We had overcast that day, and there was a nice breeze coming off the water. All-in-all, I was having no issues. My mind was on preparing myself for Steep Mountain. 

If you haven't read my blog from last year [link here], Steep Mountain chewed me up and broke my will. The first time I've ever thought of seriously quitting a race was going up Steep Mountain in 2022, and it traumatized me for the next YEAR. I was legitimately afraid of Steep Mountain - I was afraid of having to do it twice this year. If I'm honest - a lot of the training decisions I made this year was specifically to mitigate the expected carnage that Steep Mountain would deliver. 

At some point Paul said he wasn't feeling energetic, so he grabbed some maple syrup + caffeine thing he had in his backpack. We press on until we get to the downhill, runnable singletrack with the beautiful views. Paul seems to be lagging behind a little bit. I waited for him to tell him to whip out his phone and take a picture, and then I pressed on. 

I got to the McKinnon's Brook aid station at 8:23 race time, somehow a whole 25 minutes ahead of The Ghost. 
Stuart Thompson is still manning this aid station and looks at his watch "Wow Nick, you're making great time!" I take my poles out of my drop bag, have Stuart set them to 125cm. Stu was definitely giving me the preferential treatment because we sort-of knew each other from the past year. Get some food in me, fill my flasks with water in one and Tailwind in the other, eat some aid station food, Coca Cola, and start moving. Stu asked me if I had had enough salt since I was cramping a little bit, and then dipped a watermelon in pure salt and was coaxing me to eat it - I did, and was quickly reminded of why I don't do tequila shots. The legs and especially the hips were feeling a bit cramped, but my energy was good. I was in and out of the aid station in 6 minutes.  Paul was lagging behind, as he had puked somewhere up the trail, he arrived at the aid station about 5 minutes after me. I figured he would take some time here to eat some food and settle his stomach, and I made the decision to push on.

Up Steep Mountain, being helped up with my poles - let's see what I can do here. Last year it took me 30:13 to get up the climb. I made some easy work of Steep this year. Moved at a steady pace and didn't let my heart rate spike too much. I passed a few people who were exhausted moving up Steep (which was basically me from last year). One of them was Josh K, whom I warned about Steep when we went up MacArthur Climb at 20km. The first part of Steep mountain was not too bad, it leveled out at places and allowed me to catch my breath. I tried to locate the small tree that I rested under last year, but couldn't remember its exact location. Then came the second steep climb of the mountain, into a narrow passage through pine trees. At the top of the mountain is where there is a gigantic blueberry field.  I made it to the top this year in 22:33, 8 minutes faster than last year. 

Make my way down what is called the Enchanted Valley Trail, where I fill up my Katadin BeFree bottle with some fast running water from the brook. Two people come flying down the trail and jump over me. I proceed slowly down the trail while drinking a bunch of filtered water. Then as the trail leveled, we took a sharp right turn on Poet's Ridge Trail, which introduced the second big climb of the 9km Loop. This climb, though it's similar in gain to Steep Mountain, is not nearly as steep. Once I was done drinking my 1L of water, I organized to my poles and started climbing again. Where I caught up with Sylvain, who had the most colourful shorts - I think they were baby-blue with rubber ducks. We chatted and power hiked once the trail leveled out. Gillian runs by us and turns right on MacArthur trail. Luc Doucet caught up to us and was like "Heyyy it's crazy shorts guy!" 

There were SO MANY BUGS! Mostly because it wasn't windy on this part of the course.

We made our way down in a short train down the steep and muddy MacArthur trail. The descent felt long and difficult - the mud was slippery and it slowed our progress. We caught up to some guy who was relieved to see other runners - he thought he was lost. 

We completed the Steep Mountain Loop at 10:26, and ahead of The Ghost by a whopping 58 minutes. After another 6-minute aid station, Luc and I head out. I noticed that Luc had made the totally pro move of shoveling aid station snacks in a ziplock bag as an on-the-go snack, wasting little time idle at the aid station. Idle time can accumulate quickly if you're not careful. Even if you're moving lazily, you can make a lot of progress. 

I am reminded of Meghan Hicks of iRunFar in "REI Presents: How To Run 100 Miles"

"Don't stop moving, there's no reason to. 

You can pee while you're walking, you can eat while you're walking, you can cry while you're walking. 

I am proof that you can puke and walk at the same time. 

There is no reason to stop."

It is now only Luc and I, and we talked about how Sackville NB has changed, and the Riverview Running Idiots, and the Motivate to Move Podcast - which Diane and John if you're reading this - need to have Luc on the podcast, especially after his 200 miler next month!

"So how does a mostly english guy get a name like "Luc", anyways"

"It's from Star Trek"

"Star Trek?"

"Yeah you know, Jean-Pierre..."

"You mean Jean-Luc? " (lmao) 

We made steady progress down the Beaton (which was also muddy) - 1st place, Ryan Rafuse was coming up (~25km ahead of us). I say "woo first place, go Ryan!" he said something like "Thanks"
I asked if he was less confident than last year - because last year he said "I know".

Took a right hand turn up the service road - small hill and then a longish descent. My hips and quads were bugging me, and here was my first low moment of the race. Luc went ahead of me and made about 2 or 3 minutes on me by the time we got to the aid station. I made it through the aid station, made sure to eat some food - talked to Wissam and Herbie (3rd and 4th place I think) briefly, and was on my way. Gillian was coming down to the aid station at this time. 

I power hiked alone for the remainder of the 9km to the Turnaround point (85km), not feeling great - I was a bit nauseous from the tailwind, and my legs were starting to cramp especially my hips. Gillian passed me at some point up the road and offered some cold pizza if I did not have a crew. I told my crew to expect me at the turnaround between 13:30 and 16:00. Katie seemed skeptical that I would get there a whole hour and a half faster than last year, but I explained to her the arithmetic of how to cut 90 minutes from an 85km run. Faster aid station transition, not being destroyed by steep mountain.

If it didn't go well, I would have texted them to get there later, but it looked like I would be there around 13:30. 

Even though there was no running whatsoever in the route from the aid station to the turnaround, I made quick work of this road. Dad and Tom, two of my crew members had started walking down the road about 500m just to see the course, and were shocked to see me - had to double-check their watches. Apparently they had taken bets on when they thought they would see me, between 14:10 and 15:00 was the consensus. 

As I make my way down the road, Stu sees me and gave me the biggest round of applause. 

Crew Accessible Aid Station at 85km

At 13:32, my ass was in that camping chair 1h28min faster than The Ghost. Luc was also in a chair and waived at me. We changed socks, put on a long-sleeve shirt in preparation for the night, I took out and put my headlamp on, since we had less than an hour of sunlight left. Ate food, drink, changed socks, took some Tylenol Extra Strength. Paul had passed by about 10-15 minutes after and said something to the effect "I can't believe you're about to do that shit again". I congratulated him on a fantastic run, and on his daylight finish!

Kerry Coolen, who had no crew, literally got to the turnaround point, did not stop for drink or food, somebody thinks he yelled "Suck it!" Turned around and went back. Krystle also came into the turnaround around this time, but she didn't see me. This entire time, I thought she was ahead of me, but she was in fact ~ 5 to 10 minutes behind.  

My pitstop took 18 minutes. I was not entirely certain how I would finish this thing - one step at a time I guess. My hips and quads were hurting quite a bit, but I was still lucid and alert. 

PART 3: FARTHEST I'VE EVER BEEN

TURNAROUND TO COW PASTURE (109KM)

This is it. 

If I take one more step, I'll be the farthest from home I've ever been. 

- Sam Gamgee

Now in uncharted territory. My longest ever run, and only 75km to go. 

My dad said something unhelpful about not quitting on my way out. 

"See you in 5 hours?"

"Yep! Around then."

I made my way back towards the mountainous coast for a second time. I was feeling pretty good - Tylenol was going to get a lot of the credit for the speed I had leaving the turnaround. I passed Gillian in the first kilometer - she was fixing her shoe, then the headlamps started turning on. Caught up to Luc and (I believe Heather?) on a downhill and passed them, congratulating all of the runners who were coming up the road - if their bib started with a "1", they were likely doing the 85km and I told them it wasn't far. Starts with a "2", it meant they would be attempting a 2nd loop, and I wished them luck.

I see two headlamps ahead and ask:

"Who's that?" 

"Roy and Mat!" 

"Great job guys, keep it up!" 

"Who are you?"

"Nick Landry" 

"Holy fuck good job Nick, keep it up!" 

 I had put on a long-sleeve shirt, but it got hot rather quickly, as it has not yet cooled down.

Got to the aid station in good time, my arms and poles were doing a lot of the work by this time. I can't remember if they were serving grilled cheese yet, if they did, then I took one. Since I didn't want to use tailwind anymore (as it upset my stomach), I elected for another watermelon dipped in salt, chips, and gnocchi. 

Left the aid station quickly and made my way towards Beaton for a second time. I see a headlamp up ahead coming towards me and then turn away from me. It was a slight downhill, so I caught up to this runner pretty quickly. I will refer to this person as "confused runner".  They had taken a wrong turn somewhere, then somebody texted them that they took a wrong turn - they had no idea where the Beaton trailhead was, which is why I saw the headlamp turn around (They were trying to locate the Beaton). I thought it was odd, given that most GPS watches will literally show you a geo-map of your progress and you would have retraced your steps 3 times by now. I stuck with this person up the Beaton, down Alistair and through McKinnon Aid. I was surprised that this person was ahead of me on course, because they were not moving well. Gillian flew by us down Alistair. I took some broth and grilled cheese and cracked a few jokes at the Aid Station. The aid crew said I was looking very strong and alert as I asked about whether the top runner had started the Steep Mountain Loop yet. 

Confused runner and I went up MacArthur together, and they were taking WAY too many breaks and gasping for air along the climb. At some point their left pole missed solid ground and lost balance - I grabbed the back of their shirt and pulled them to center balance to make sure they did not fall down the very steep cliffside.

A bit further I asked if I could pass since this was just too easy an effort for me. 

Around this time 1st place Ryan and his pacer - and 5 to 10 minutes later 2nd place Tim flew down MacArthur - I estimated that Ryan might go sub-20hrs based on the distance remaining and the time of day.

I completed the MacArthur climb in ~33 minutes, which was 8 minutes slower than earlier in the day, though my average heart rate was 135 bpm indicating an easy effort. Turned around to see if I could see a headlamp and I did not. Decided to press-on alone. The trail after MacArthur is a nice and easy doubletrack with few roots or obstacles, slightly downhill - and I decided to run it.

We had talked on the drive up that Katie dreaded the 109km aid station, because I had projected that I might be there any time between 12h30am and 4:00am. 

I emerged from the trail and onto the Cow Pasture (109km) at 12h31am - 18:31 into the race [hey reader, are you starting to see a pattern?], and feeling better than I did at 85km. The night-shift crew were there to greet me (Mom, Mario and Katie). Katie thanked me profusely about being able to have a good night's sleep since I got to Cow Pasture so early in the night. 

Once again, changed socks, eat a quesadilla, grabbed a new baggie of gnocchi, drank a whole bottle of water + skratch. More Tylenol - every 5 hours. Stuart Thompson is there again waiting to pace his friend Mat. Unfortunately, Mat had dropped due to stomach issues. Stu came over to congratulate me on making amazing time, asked if I wanted or needed a pacer (since I did not have one) - I said I would take him on as a pacer if he wanted to come, so he texted Jodi (the race director) if it was OK for him to pace me, got ready and we were out of Cow Pasture at 18:52 (12:52am) with an unexpected pacer! 

PART 4: GREEK MYTHOLOGY CHAPTER WITH A PACER

With 53kms to go and 17 hrs left until final cutoff, feeling reasonably well considering I had ran 109kms, "don't fuck up" was the motto. There was not going to be any food changes, we're not running hard, and absolutely no tailwind. I warned Stu that the plan was to do a lot of power hiking and he was OK with the idea. 

The next 22kms were going to be easy, no singletrack, not too much elevation. We ran some of the downhill sections. Powered with only our headlamps, lighting about 20 meters ahead. In this section I told Stu that I am a data analyst, and that when I was looking at splits from last year's race, I had calculated that Stu had the BEST relative second half when compared to his first half. He was essentially in last place at the 85km turnaround point (16:25), and picked off several runners on his way to a 33:49 finish. Asked him what was his secret and how he managed to do it. 

We talked about all sorts of things as we tackled the easy parts of the race, kids, UTMB Grindstone 100 (Stu's next race), life's philosophy and the value of ultrarunning. Time went by quickly I thought. Stu and I had been debating on the rankings of last years' events - did Chris de Graaf finish 2nd or 3rd? I thought he was 3rd, and Stu thought he finished 2nd. 

Did a little bit of bushwhacking to avoid getting our feet wet, until we got to the Broad Cove Banks aid station (118km). Kerry Coolen and Gillian and her pacer Wilco were around us at approximately the same time, though we had made a bit of a gap to Gillian. 

We got to the aid station, and I asked for some grilled cheese and broth - which seemed to go down quickly and not contributing to any stomach distress. They offered me some Aid Station Fireball, but I declined - not on my 1st 100 miler - no risks. Stu gladly took some fireball. A dog named Argo was licking my hand and I pet him while I chat up the aid station volunteers. One of the volunteers was coincidentally Chris de Graaf, and I asked him where he finished last year (3rd place) - it gave me some confidence that I was still lucid, alert and in control. We were out of there reasonably quickly, going towards the middle of nowhere. Thirteen more kms until we hit the next aid station. 

We were mostly power hiking except when we found a downhill section. Even just walking, Stu was complementing our pace, "That's a 9 minute kilometer!" At some point, Stu excitedly exclaimed: 

"Holy shit Nick, we just motored up that hill" 

"There was a hill?"

I was hyper-focused on the tiny speck of light emanating from my headlamp that I was not noticing entire hills, and letting Stu do most of the talking and cheerleading took my mind on the difficulty of the task. This night was also the peak day of the year to witness the Perseid meteor shower, and being in a remote, rural area - we could see everything. I looked up and saw a shooting star, and wished upon it to finish Capes 100. 

Though I did not mention this to Stu, every time that I would un-focus my gaze on the trail ahead (looking up for example), I felt slightly delirious. The delirium felt similar to when you get up from a chair too quickly and become lightheaded. Every time I did this, it took a few seconds to refocus on what I was supposed to be doing. Mentally I was still alert, but there was a noticeable decline in ability from baseline.

The road had many hairpin turns, on one of them we see the headlamp of Kerry and he appears to be running, he was no more than 400m away from us. Stu eggs me on, "Oh come on, we can catch up to him!!"

We went for a little run to try and catch him, but no Kerry, no headlamp. He had seemingly disappeared. I was confused, Stu was confused. Where did Kerry go?

Near the end of this section are single track trails, only about 2kms until the aid station. I had drank all of my water, and made sure to fuel up ahead of round 2 of Steep Mountain. Looked to my right - nothing but black. I however knew that beyond that black was some of the most majestic scenery of the whole race. I found it kind of tragic to be honest.

We get to the McKinnon's aid station (131km), Stu was more excited than me, and was certain I would finish:  "Just imagine your buckle", "We can do this", "Sub 29hrs".

I was resisting the temptation of thinking about a finish too early. Steep Mountain BROKE me last year, and until I was entirely done with it - I was not sure that I would finish. 

 I take another Tylenol, Grilled Cheese, Broth, change socks - and since the sun will be rising shortly, get into my singlet. It takes us 19 minutes to get ready for Steep. 

What happened next is single-handedly the greatest running accomplishment of my career - and Stu got a front-row seat. Fueled by Coca Cola, I motored up the first half of the mountain at a fast but consistent speed. Where the mountain leveled off near the midway point I took a quick 1 or 2 minute break to let my heart come back down to normal. Midway through the climb, the sun rises - and we take a picture. It is majestic, and poetic. Water droplets dripping down my elbows and headlamp. I asked Stu if this was sweat or humidity, he said it was 100% sweat as he was trying to catch his breath. Once the heart rate came back down a  bit, we motored up the second half of the climb. We got up Steep Mountain in 25:28, only 2 minutes slower than 70kms ago, and 5 minutes faster than last year. 

Sunrise coming up Steep Mountain

Steep Mountain had traumatized me for over a year, and now I just destroyed it. 

Twice. 

Since I have dubbed this chapter Greek Mythology Chapter, I feel like I should make a "12 Labours of Hercules" reference here. 

Labour 1: Steep Mountain

Labour 2: My shoelace became untied coming down the Enchanted Valley and up Poet's Ridge - and after like eighteen uncoordinated attempts to double-knot them, I had Stu tie my shoe. It actually felt so weird to ask a grown man to tie my shoes. Something I've been able to do with my eyes closed since I was 4 years old.

Labours 3-7: Down MacArthur trail. You can imagine that by this time, my legs were starting to hurt. My quads were tight, and my knees were SO painful coming down the MacArthur trail. Which was still just some straight mud. I tried a couple different side shuffles, but nothing helped - plus it would be another 3 hours until I could take another Tylenol. 

We finally got to the aid station. My feet are soaked and are killing me, my knees and quads are killing me. I wanted to change socks and shoes. I had a last dry pair of SmartWool in my drop bag, and even though I always roll my ankles in the Salomon Speedcross 4, I decided that dry feet for the last 20km had less risk. My Altras had gotten me 100kms. Took off my socks, and my feet have some pretty bad blisters in between my big toes. In hindsight I probably should not have looked at my feet.

Aid Station started at 25:46, Sylvain - the runner with the duck shorts arrives at the same time as us, but coming from Broad Cove Banks (They still have to do the steep mountain loop). He is now wearing some pink shorts with bananas (so he is sttill Crazy Shorts Guy!) He offers me some type of tape for my feet. Super thank you! I taped my feet, had some (you guessed it) grilled cheese and broth, and was out of there in 21 minutes. Definitely longer than I hoped to be, but by this time, a 30 hour was still possible, and I was in pain, no risks.

Labour 8: Walking on blistered feet.

As we are ready to leave the McKinnon Aid Station, Kerry Coolen comes flying down MacArthur (don't know how he got behind us) turns out he had taken a nap on the side of the road, and Stu and I missed him.

Walking out of McKinnon was surreal. With only 20kms to go, I knew I had that buckle. I had told myself to not think about it until I finished Steep Mountain the 2nd time. This was it. 

I daydreamed of walking down the finishing line, hand-in-hand with my daughter. I didn't know if I would cry or not, once I was done. I didn't know which feelings I would feel. Or what I would see. I didn't know any of it. All I knew was that I was going to finish my first 100 miler. And I would get a buckle. And even though Nora might never remember this day, my kids would know that dad's a badass, and their children would know that grandpa was a beast when he was at his prime. 

It was around this time that I had concocted a final motivational trick for me to press on. I told myself that I would let my daughter choose my buckle, and she had her nap at around noon - time to get a move-on. 

The belt buckle is awarded to 100-miler finishers only. It is a North American tradition that stems from the sport's connection with long-distance horse racing. For me, it feels equivalent to earning an advanced degree in the sport - it takes multiple years, a lot of training and a lot of research to succeed.

Up Alistair was straightforward, Stu led up the hill - the sun was blazing hot already by 9:00am, I was thankful the course was pretty well shaded from that point to the finish. 

Labour 9-12 Beaton Descent

As with the MacArthur descent, Beaton descent is similarly steep and muddy. I went through so much torture coming down Beaton, we were not making good progress on these downhills. Once off the Beaton, we turned right and up towards the last aid station. Kerry emerges from the Beaton, 200 meters behind us. 

PART 5: FINISHING

Stu, (God love him) as he looks behind towards Kerry, 

"Come-on, Nick, let's break this guy's spirit. Take his soul."

 We took the next climb aggressively, but controlled. Got to the peak and ran down the hill after the crest. We had probably made a good 100-150m on him by the time we got to the top. We thought we had done some good work and snapped the elastic, but a few moments later Kerry comes flying down next to us, passing us in the process. I'm not even upset, I gave it a good go, and he just had more energy. Stu was also stunned and impressed.

We get to the next (and last) aid station with 3 runners who I did not recognize. We took our time - they offered us broth and food. I asked for a Pop Tart, but ~28hrs into a race, you forget that people hand you things. 
I grabbed my cell phone and texted my wife (11:45am - 12:15pm). We had 11km to go, it was 10:00am. Completely forget to eat the Pop Tart. Earlier in the week I had estimated it would take me 33 hours to finish this race,  and a "perfect" race was 30 hours, it seemed like a perfect day.

Stu was pushing me so hard to get that sub 30hr time, but we had to get a move-on. I took about 10 minutes at the aid station, Gillian and Wilco had caught up to us and made a super fast transition. Within about 1km after the aid station, they passed us going up the hill. That section where you're basically running down a river happened. I could see runners ahead struggling to move up the river/road. I assumed one of them was Gillian, no, 3 completely different people - the same three who were at the aid station. 

We pass them quickly, look ahead - no sign of  Gillian and Wilco. They had amazing speed and fortitude this late in the race. By this time my watch was on "power saver" mode, so it was giving me some really weird numbers - I asked Stu different versions of "Are we there yet" probably like 3 or 4 times.  

That was the last time I saw Gillian until I finished as she was slumped in a chair at the finish line. I looked at the Strava Flyby because I was curious. Gillian and I traded the lead on each other 15 times during the race.

"Nick, if you want that sub-30, you're going to have to run these downhills"

Ran the downhill.

Then there was the turnaround point - only two ROAD kilometers left. 

It is a hot day. I do not feel the heat.

Pain has escaped my body. Adrenaline took over. I can run again. My stride is real and beautiful.

It feels surreal.

We ran most of the road section. 

According to Stu's watch, we were running the downhills around a 4:40/km

There is a bunch of cars lined up on both sides of the road. They are probably here for the race I surmise - the awards ceremony is at 12:00pm, it is 11:40am. 

I ran past these cars and people. 

A lot of people. 

Nobody claps.

I had just ran 99 miles, and all of the locals were there for their farmer's market, nobody seemed to care  or notice overtired runners with backpacks doing impossible things, just whizzing by.

It felt like Jeb Bush's awkward "Please clap" moment.

Nobody knew of 99.5 miles ran, or 6,200m of elevation climbed, or how I went beast-mode up Steep Mountain (twice), or how many trail pees I took, or how many bears I smelled (which was a concerning amount), or how many grilled cheeses I ate. 

It was kind of humbling.  

Stuart ran ahead, because he wanted me to cross the finish line alone - it was not his race, it was mine and I should bask in all the glory. I was indifferent to this idea, but if that's what he wanted to do, then so be it. 

I was alone once again, up ahead people clapping on the side of the road giving high-fives.
These are my people!

I got to the final turn, it is a 200m, slight uphill to the finish. I let out a big Viking yell at the bottom, and ran to a spectacular finish. 

29:47:12

Then had a mini cry.

All of the buckles available to the runners are unique and hand-made. 

I got Nora to pick out my buckle. Partly because I was having a hard time standing, but also to make it extra special. I might do this with all my kids. 

FINAL THOUGHTS

Psychologically, there is something to be said about not allowing your mind to even contemplate quitting. A lot of people say that ultras are 100% mental, and whatever % physical. I didn't understand it until I did this one, but I think I understand it now as I tapped into the mental side of things further than ever before. You have to control the emotions and the thoughts that flow through you, and reject going down one rabbit hole or another of despair. It's not easy to do, to not let your mind wander in a 30 hour race with extensive mental and physical fatigue. You can let it go in some places, but there are some areas it absolutely must not go. 

A lot of people ask me why I do stuff like this. 

There are the common reasons like; 

• I want to prove to myself that I can do hard things.
• I want to show my kids how it's possible to achieve difficult things.
• Be a positive role model.
• Emotional and mental growth.
• Finish what you start. 
• Exorcise your demons.
• Etc.

The truth is that I don't need to justify myself. I want to do this for no other reason that I legitimately want to. There is a lot of Type 1 fun in these sorts of events, (and some type 2). You meet new people, and the trail community is amazing. Stu did not have to RUN literally 53km with me, but he did because he's an exemplary person who was rooting for me for the entire race (even before he knew he would pace me). He deserved the biggest hug.

I hope you enjoyed the read, thank you for going through this with me.

I would like to conclude with thank yous. 

Thank you to my wife. Training for these sorts of events is extremely time-consuming, she made so many sacrifices so that I could train for it, and she was really good about it. Even the day-of, she was on the ball, ready, anticipating my needs at every turn. Nora is too young to remember, but I feel bad for not being around as much as I wanted to. 

To give you an idea of the training, I wrote a quick summary of my training and some of the keys to success of this race.

Thank you to my family, Mario, Ginette and Moe - for coming down and cheering me on, crewing me, and making Kate's job as crew chief a lot easier. Same goes for my in-laws Tom and Janet for being race-day photographer/videographer. I hope you all enjoyed yourselves over the weekend. 

To Nova Scotia Trail Running and the volunteers - thanks for another wonderful event. Always super well organized, professional and cheering us all on and being leaders and builders in the Atlantic Canada trail running community.

Finally, Stuart Thompson. You are an exemplary ambassador for the trail scene. Benevolent, tough, badass. I am so thankful for your company. You made the 30-hour, perfect day possible. Best of luck at Grindstone and to your UTMB aspirations. 

WHAT NEXT?

You may have noticed me mention "kids" (plural) during the blog.
Our family is growing, and with two very young kids (second one due in February), another 100 miler will not be possible for a few years. I may pace when asked, volunteer, or do shorter events - but I think my family needs me around for the next little while. 

Best of luck to you with whatever goals you set for yourself. I hope that if you run Capes in a subsequent year, that you got something out of this read - and if you're one of the many non-running readers that you both enjoyed the read, and that this might have inspired you to go after your impossible dreams.  

Podcast interview with Motivate to Move