Chiggy Ultra - To Hell and Back Again

To Hell and Back Again

An Adventure in Cape Chignecto

Ever since I started trail running, I have wanted to complete the loop of Cape Chignecto Park. I missed my opportunity in 2019 at Capes 100 - and the subsequent Covid years made it difficult to travel and organize a trip out to Advocate Harbour.

The Chiggy Ultra was unlikely for this year, mainly because I already had a schedule of big runs in 2022 (Fredericton Marathon, Keji's Backyard, Capes 100), and I would be taking over on paternity leave, and there could be a scheduling conflict.

After a series of phone calls and logistics to find Nora a babysitter for a few days (grandparents), the race was a go!

I signed up to the event a bit under trained. My training consisted mainly of walking and running with the stroller, the odd trail run, and hoping the residual fitness from my August race kicked in.

Pre Race: A Comedy of Errors

After having dropped off the baby to her grandparents, quickly organizing my gear, driving the two hours to West Advocate to the Cape Chignecto Provincial Park, and registering for the race, I needed to get some calories in me; ordered a pizza from a local pizza shop - the pizza was undercooked, and it did not smell "fresh". After eating a few slices, I got a bit paranoid that eating more of this would lead to stomach issues and ended up not "carb loading" as much as I would have liked. I slept in my car the night before the race, and I didn't have the best night's sleep, because... I'm sleeping in the back of my car, and I'm not 20 years old. The next morning, I pour myself a bowl of cereal and milk, and in my haste packing for the trip I forgot a spoon - so I'm eating wet Cheerios with my hands. 

All in all, it was a great start to the day.

I drove the 5 minutes from my campground to the race start. 

It was warm for an October morning, a crisp 12°C - warm enough to ditch the jacket once we started moving. I hung around the start area, chatted with a few folks I knew waiting for the 7:00AM start to the race. 

John, one of the Race Directors started us off by reading us the runner's creed as written by Deb and John - which was a pretty neat touch to the event.

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 Spensor'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

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

To Hell - 0km - 0h00

Off we went to the races. 

In one large group of 50km hopefuls, we ran the first few kilometers with a few of the faster runners gapping the rest of the field. 

The race consisted of 1 or 2 kms on the main Cape Chignecto trail, a 5 km loop of McGahey Brook Canyon Trail, and then remainder of the run was on the main 45km loop of the Provincial park.

I got into a group at a pace I thought was slightly more aggressive than I should have ran, but it was a pace that I was certainly capable of maintaining. This being early morning, I was not chatting with anybody just yet -  we went down and up the main trail road, up, and up, and up we went... some people were running up this hill, which was totally runnable. I decided to walk it, as I was not quite warmed up, and I don't typically run the hills during ultras.

Our group took a right hand turn, following the "Jackhammer" signs, crossed a small stream onto the single track. I was 5th in a train of 6 or so runners, and we were definitely in the first 1/3 of the field. The single track had a few muddy sections, but I counted my blessings that I was not in the last 1/3 of the field,  as I suspected they would be running on flattened, wetter, worn trails. This first 5km had some nice, flowy trails - and we ran most of it. At some point we came across a hairpin section of the trail and we were able to see the group ahead - they had no more than 200 meters on us. We completely dropped the group behind.

We had a nice rhythm going, and soon after I started chatting with some of the folks around me. Josh from Fredericton was running his first marathon+ distance, Bobby from Digby was also there, and a few women were pacing us. 

After a while, we hit a long descent - which allowed me to open up on my group. I quickly made work of this downhill section, passed 3 or 4 runners, and rejoined the main Chignecto Trail. Next was a long uphill section, one woman with black hair passed me on the uphill. I did not have poles with me to start the race, so I expected to be passed on the ups and fast on the downs. Similar story to Capes.

I struggled a bit more on the uphills than I expected to, but that's evidently because of my lack of training on hills since Capes. 

At some point, the woman in black hair moved ahead up the mountain and out of sight, and I needed to pee. I got to a 4-way junction with no signage, was unsure where to go next, and decided to pee while waiting for the next runners to show me the way.

I ran with Mark(?) and Josh for a while, for a few kilometers, eating a package of honey stinger gummies and banana baby smoothie. This section had a few trees that had fallen from hurricane Fiona, but the park staff did an awesome job clearing them from the trail. At some point we caught up to some of the slower 2 and 3 loopers. The three of us were moving well and even caught up to the woman in black hair on the flat sections. At some point, we hit a downhill slope, both Mark and Josh had a history of knee injuries, and they needed to take the downhills pretty easily I moved ahead and soloed it. 

The next 6 or so kilometers followed along a narrow stream that we crossed a few times. I rode this part solo - I looked behind and ahead and not a soul was seen and I worried briefly that I took a wrong turn. Alongside the main trail, there were distance markers at every kilometer, and soon after I thought I might have been lost was a marker indicating I was going the right way. Chignecto has many beautiful sights looking out the Bay of Fundy, but this was by far my favorite part of the course. The forest floor was littered with fallen autumn leaves, the stream of water to my right, barely any roots to trip me up. My idyllic running setting.

I had not studied the course map, but I knew that the first aid station was at around 14 and 16kms. I must be getting there soon...

Eatonville Aid Station - 16km - 2h20

Just before reaching the aid station, Ryan (a person who was at the same campground as me) caught up to me and asked me if the girl he was with had passed me (the answer was no). We entered the Eatonville aid station together at 16.5km, around 2h20 into the race. Anthony Fromm was one of the volunteers - I said hi to Tony, got my bottles filled with water, grabbed some Oreos. I had my drop bag at Eatonville, in it was a Gatorade bottle, my poles, extra pair of shoes, etc. I thought the trails so far were pretty runnable and elected to not grab my poles - also drank most of my Gatorade because I thought I needed the calories. I quickly turned it around at the aid station, recognized Emilie - a runner from Moncton - on my way out amongst the several runners into the aid station. 

Still feeling fresh from the aid station, I booked it down Eatonville road,  through the parking lot, across the field, and onto the single track once more. I passed a group of three runners (two and three loopers that started an hour earlier), and started out on a climb. Midway through what should have been an easy climb, I started to have some stomach issues and slowed it down a bit. A guy who was looking very strong passed me on the way up. I got caught by Bobby from Digby and ran and chatted with him for about half a kilometer, but I was not feeling great and told him to go ahead. It was likely the Gatorade that made me feel woozy - and I decided to take it a bit easy for a little while until I felt better. The muddy parts started... they would show up sporadically every 200 to 300 meters, and it was tough to get into any kind of rhythm. 

Completely out of the blue, both quads started to cramp, at first it was a small niggle, but after about 5 minutes of slight cramping, they both went into full cramp mode. At kilometer 22, I was walking on a nice single track, and every step felt weird. 

left, right, left, right, 
cramp, cramp, cramp, cramp...

What the hell is this?!?

I got passed by many people, including Emilie, Ryan, and finally Blair Mann. 

Blair was looking strong and briefly stuck with me to recommend making sure to drink enough water and get enough salt. I took the veteran runner's advice to heart and added another Nuun tab in my water bottle. I was not moving great, but I could still walk - luckily the rest of the field was probably moving slowly also because of the constant muddy parts around every turn. By the 24th kilometer I looked at my map to see if there was an easy way to quit (there was not). Still another 6 or 7km to the Big Bald aid station. I will definitely quit there.

Every step was painful. The quads were not firing correctly, and thus my coordination was lacking. I inadvertently stepped in very muddy areas and got my feet soaked with water. My only solace, the only thing that took my mind off the pain was looking for the distance markers on the course, slowly counting down from 34, 33, 32, 31... and the beeping of my watch after every 1000 meters. 

Many runners had passed me during this section, most just ran by. One runner with a PEI flag has stopped and chatted with me for a while to try and improve my spirit, she seemed like she was in a great place mentally herself. My mood somewhat improved, but I was still feeling awful physically. I was taking so much time to hear my watch beep between every kilometer - 12, and 14 and 16 minute kilometers. I went through all of my water, and the only liquid I had on me was a full bottle of Gatorade (yuck) in my backpack. The last thing I wanted to drink today was Gatorade, but it was the only thing I had.

At some point around kilometer 29 or 30 - I was alone and looking at my feet, following the trail ahead of me. Crossed a small stream, and somehow I got lost. I followed what I thought was the trail but the "trail" that I had followed was unused. Odd, I thought to myself, that all of these trees are leaning towards the main trail, and there are fewer and fewer footsteps on the ground. I turned around to try and find the way back "this can't be the right way" and there were no trails. I bushwhacked about 50 meters and found the trail again - but I didn't know which direction was the right one, so I waited until the next people on the trail to show me the way. This event sort of reinvigorated me for a few seconds - I don't want to be lost in the middle of these woods. Luckily, I didn't wait long, as a group of hikers with a dog came up from my left within the next 30 seconds. "Is this the way?" I asked. 

Hobbling along the coast, I figured I couldn't be too far away from the next aid station - should be around the corner. My stomach went sort of south again because of the second bottle of Gatorade. One runner came up from be behind me - Josh from Fredericton again - his IT band was bugging him at this point, so the both of us hobbled along the trail - he luckily had some poles with him to assist, and we worked together for the next 10 or so minutes into the Big Bald aid station.

Big Bald Aid Station - 30.5km - 5h45

"How are you feeling?" asked the aid station crew from the patio. 
"Like absolute dogshit"

It took me nearly 3 and a half hours to cover the 14 kilometers between the first and second aid station - and there was barely any elevation. There were a few small hills, some ups and some downs - but nothing too bad in terms of elevation. The trails had been muddy and rooty. The downhills were painful on the quads, and the salt tabs barely helped. My poor planning and slow speed forced my hand to drink more Gatorade, and my stomach was feeling awful again. One issue led to another, which led to another.

Josh was feeling better than me, and a few other runners were leaving and wishing us good luck. 
Octave - a runner with whom Josh had been running the last section came in, with a positive attitude. 

I sat on the step for a few minutes - contemplating quitting. Looking for any sign of a vehicle, but there were none, and I briefly abandoned the idea of quitting.

I refilled my bottles with water, added another Nuun tab - went inside to eat some chips, got some Coke. I also changed my socks. I had an extra pair of socks in my Salomon backpack, but unfortunately I sweat so much that the socks were damp - still better than then ones I had on my feet. 

Josh and Octave were getting ready to leave, and I got to talking with them through the aid station - I figured if I was going to move on, it would have to be with a group. The three of us set off down the hill, approximately 12.5 more kilometers until the next one. 

Now that I had a group to hike/run with, I felt confident that I could at least distract myself long enough to not suffer as much as the last section. Both Octave and Josh had poles with them, and they seemed to be navigating all of the muddy bits better than me by leaning on their poles and helping themselves balance. I was ruing not having grabbed the poles from my drop bag at km 16. We made some slow progress - Octave was saying that he wanted to keep his legs fresh for the "runnable" sections which we should start to see eventually. For a good chunk of these, we were averaging 11 and 12 minute kilometers, which was an improvement on the past section, but still not great. 

Octave pointed to an island in the distance - it was a waypoint from which we could mark our progress along the coast. The three of us took the lead at various points during the next section - running when we could, walking when we had to, and hobbling when it hurt. At some point I had to tie my shoes and after I looked up, both of them were way ahead - it took a few minutes for me to catch up. We passed a woman that Josh knew (presumably from Fredericton), and he dropped back to chat with her. I thought we had dropped him for good, but he caught up to us on a climb. Octave mentioned that he thought Josh probably is done running due to the IT band issue. My quads were still really hurting on the descents, but I was feeling fine on the climbs. At some point - presumably because of the growing foot and quad pain for the last hours, I also developed a very sharp pain in the back of my knee that worried me, but it only hurt when I bent my knee on uphills. If bending your knee hurts, then don't bend your knee, I thought.

After a while, I took the lead of the group.

It came up during many conversations at this race, not only with Octave and Josh, but also with Emilie, and possibly with Roy Banks pre-race. Everybody made mention of two climbs; Mill Brook, and Refugee Cove. 

First up was Refugee Cove. 

Once we hit the valley looking out onto the Cove, it was apparent that it was going to hurt. We were atop the western border of the valley - we would run downhill on singletrack, only to cross a bridge, and go back uphill on a doubletrack (service road). 

I was leading our group on the descent, and every step was agony - the quads started to burn more and more with each passing second. I couldn't even go fast for risk of losing control. On the downhill shuffle, my toes were slamming in the front of my shoes, each step more and more painful. My big toes were pulsing. The ground flattened at the bottom of the descent, and I took a second to re-tie my shoelace - this time I used the heel-lock function on the shoe to hopefully save what might remain of my toenails' integrity. Looked behind me, and there was no sign of Octave or Josh. 

I figured that the aid station was close by, and I was low on water again - so I pushed on. They both had poles and I thought they might catch up on the next uphill anyhow. Crossing a bridge across the cove, and then a short, flat section, turn, and there's the "gnarly uphill". Refugee Climb towards Arch Gulch climb was no joke. It went on and on as far as the eye could see, but the incline was manageable. After about 200 meters up, I saw both Octave and Josh working together behind me at the bottom of the hill. Rather than taking long, slow steps on the uphill, my knee only let me take small, shuffling ones - thankfully unlike the quads and feet that were hurting on both sides, only one knee was bugging me.

It felt like a long time, climbing at a steady incline, up ahead it looked like the trail would get steeper and steeper, but once I got to that point, if felt the same as always. I finally hit a flat spot on the top of the climb, and took a few seconds to catch my breath, and FINALLY, some runnable trails. It was slow moving, but I was running again - thinking to myself that it's not far to the aid station...

Up ahead, I heard some voices, and I thought I saw a cabin, but upon closer inspection, it was a bunch of spraypainted trees. Were the voices imagined too? I kept moving along this trail and just a few 100 meters further was the aid station. 

Arch Gulch Aid Station - 43km - 8h45

The unofficial photographer of Chiggy Ultra, Roy Banks was taking pictures as runners entered the aid station. I told Roy that if he caught a smile from me, it'll be the first one I've cracked all day.

I filled up both water bottles, grabbed some Coke, probably whined a whole bunch to the aid station crew, and sat down - waiting for Octave and Josh. 

After a few minutes and chowing down on an Oreo, we heard a few voices - obviously two runners talking to each other. I was expecting Octave and Josh, but it was not them.

Mat Sabinski and Stuart Thompson, came into the aid station looking pretty chipper. I asked about Octave and Josh, and they said that one of them didn't look too good and was slow moving.

These two were all business in the station - Stuart was planning on 3 loops, and he seemed in control. They were in and out pretty quickly, and I figured it would be an opportunity for me to tag along a few strong runners. A positive mindset can be pretty infectious. 

We took off from the aid station jogging. As we leave, Octave and Josh come in, I wish them both good luck and high five both. We kept that pace for the remainder of the flat trails. They were running faster than what was comfortable for me, but I held on. It was only 8.5km from Arch Gulch aid station to the finish - I knew I could do it, even if it took me 3 hours.

Stu, Mat and I start chatting. I told them about my quads, "It's probably because you don't have poles."

Mat asked me why I didn't have poles, and said that it was very stupid of me to not have taken them with me. 

No kidding Mat.

Anyhow - Stu seemed to know these trails pretty well, and led us for a few kilometers, and warned us about what was in store for us between that point and the end. 

Big descent, big, big uphill, and then some stairs and down and back up. Easy peasy.

To nobody's surprise, Mill Brook downhill was downhell, and then we got to Mill Brook climb. 

Just eyeballing it, you could tell it was steeper than Refugee Cove, and it seemed to not end. Mat Sabinski took off, as he was doing a single loop and wanted to finish strong. 

Turns out that "Sabinski" is Polish, and roughly translates to "climber of great hills" 👍 

Within a minute, Mat was out of sight, Stu and I were slowly getting up the hill together. Hikers coming down the hill encouraging us. Midway up the hill is a bend and a bench - the bench was occupied by hikers naturally, so I hugged a branch that was sticking out, and caught my breath. I waited for Stu to catch up to me, and back on my way up. Up, up, up we went, a climb that never seemed to end, ever steeper than arch gulch... "But how does it compare to steep mountain?", child's play, it was absolute childs play - I could have setup a picnic on Mill Brook. I managed to pull myself up this hill on cramped legs and a bum knee - so it wasn't that bad. 

I tried to pull a Mat Sabinski and finish this forsaken run strong, but the legs would not have it. There were a few sets of stairs, and I was limping up these because of my left knee. 

Eventually, I got to the main trail, which was of course all downhill. I walked the downhill, saw the distance makers for 3km and then 2km, and chatted with another runner (who started at 6am) we were saying how unbelievably tough this run was. 

We ran the last 100m, which was uphill - I could have moved quicker in the last down and up hill, but I was just done with "competition". "Style" went out the window about 6 hours ago. 

After 10 hours, 50 minutes or running. After battling cramped quads for 8 hours. Wet and painful feet. Upset stomach. Toes that are likely to lose their toenail as soon as I took my socks off. Whatever the hell was going on with my knee. A bruised ego, wanting to quit for 30kms. I touched the green gate - signaling the end of this awful, awful run. A sigh of relief.

"How was that?" John asked. 

My only response, and what I felt was appropriate at the time, was "holy fucking shitballs". 

Back Again - 52km - 10h50

If you read this John, I hope you don't take it personally. I had one hell of a day.

I think it's safe to say that I made many mistakes on October 1st, one mistake compounded and led to other issues down the line. I will hold onto my patch and coaster for a long time as a token of perseverance and determination.

Hydration, salt and caloric deficit compounded to stomach issues and leg cramps, which then led to foot and knee issues. Beyond that, not properly studying and knowing the terrain led me to gear-related mistakes such as not taking polls, bringing insufficient water, etc.

This was a humbling experience, and way more difficult than anticipated. 

Mostly my fault, though.

As I was writing this, a single song kept playing on repeat in my head: Roger Alan Wade - If you're gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough

I would like to end by thanking Deb and John for hosting the event that we all wanted. It was no walk in the park, but they still managed to make it a pretty special day despite the uncertainty of Fiona and all the other unknowns abouts the logistics of this race. It was awesome to have this event so shortly after hurricane Fiona. It's unbelievable to me that anybody wanted to attempt more than one loop of this, but Adam Harris completed a triple-loop, 100 mile run and that is an incredible feat. Congrats to Stu for having the gonads to brave two full loops and to Josh for completing his first Marathon + distance on what turns out is a tough trail.

Capes 100 - Halfway to a Buckle

CAPES 100

How long have I been waiting for this race?

My "A" race.

My first 50 miler; halfway to a buckle.

For over 3 years, I have been registered to run 87km in Mabou, Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. Covid delayed those plans for two years, but finally this August I was able to be present at the Mabou Gaelic College, at 6am, uninjured, ready to rock.

This was the third big event of 2022 for me. Between February to May, my focus was the Fredericton Marathon and improving fitness, but immediately after the marathon my focus had been increasing mileage, climbing hills (3100m of elevation gain for this event), and getting better on technical trails.

I was not the only Monctonian to feel the need to focus on these areas, nor the only to make the 4 hour trip to Cape Breton. Both Chester Dana (running 100 miles) and René Julien (RJ) (running 87kms) wanted to improve and train these areas as well, so they organized White Rock Wednesdays. White Rock Wednesdays was a weekly 9-12km run in White Rock Park in Hillsborough - it contains probably the nicest single track trails within 30 minutes of Moncton, and offers a whole bunch of elevation gain. I missed only a few weeks, and I got to know Chester and René quite well over the 3 months of WRW.  I also went to nearly every Thursday night Moncton Trail Running group run.

Call me stubborn, call me dedicated, I showed up regardless of how well, or badly I was feeling that day. 

35°C with humidity? - I'm there. 

Rain? - Count me in.

Rolled ankle? - Wrap it in a tensor bandage.

Dehydrated? - All part of training.

Some weeks, my heart-rate would spike to 200bpm, other weeks I felt like I could have pushed harder. I was stubbornly consistent.

As was hoped,  I got much better on trails, I got faster on downhills, and improved my footing measurably.

I noticed early on that I didn't do so well in the heat and humidity, so whenever I had the opportunity, I would run or walk in the middle of the day preferably on the hottest days of the week. Late in the training plan, René, Karine (also running 87 kms) and I, decided to tackle the Fundy Circuit (a 48km loop around Fundy) on what would eventually become a hot day.

In summary, I did pretty much everything in my power to learn, improve, and to secure a finish on what would be my biggest single-event distance.

My goals for this event were as follows;

1. Finishing is the most important thing
2. Time Goals
1. Run it faster than 13h30min
2. Run it faster than 16h

Race Morning

After a good carb-heavy pasta supper and a breakfast consisting of hard-boiled eggs, chocolate milk and salt tab - I was ready to get moving. It only hit me emotionally about 30 minutes prior to race start that I would be running 87kms, but I would not say that I got nervous or diffident at any point. I felt that I had planned my nutrition adequately (mostly consisting of baby food), I had plenty of socks to change into, and I had lubed everything twice, I was uninjured, and I was well trained.

Start Your Engines 
0:00 - 2:50
0 km - 20km

At 5:55am, I give a big hug to my wife and make my way into the start corral, say hi to Chester, RJ, Pat because I assumed that they would be way ahead of me for the entirety of the race. I tried to find Karine but could not see her. Settled midway in the corral. 

Unlike in 2019, I don't think Jodi shot an actual shotgun to start the race, but we nonetheless started running down the street at 6:00am. It was misty and cloudy in these first few hours of the run, but definitely not cold - I remember worrying that it might become a hot day.

The first 5km were extremely runnable; even though Strava says we gained between 30 and 45m of elevation for some of these kilometers - I really can't say that I remember any "hills", as I was in full conversation with two gents from Woodstock - Enrique and Hunter were both running 100 miles this day - I recognized Enrique from the Fredericton Marathon (he was the 2hr half-marathon pace bunny). We ran down a paved road, cross a little bridge and move onto the dirt road. As we kept going down this road, at 6:20 in the morning, a local fiddler set himself up to play us off into the day.

Photo Cred: Karine Godin

A big group of runners pass me, I felt like I was running at a consistent pace, and in the medley I lost the two guys from Woodstock and they were replaced by two friends who went to Acadia; Dillon and Nick (easy name to remember). The three of us share a few kms together, and we get to a fairly long section where we're skipping on rocks and running on the shoulder of the road, trying to keep our feet dry, as the road became a stream. I would rather lose 5 minutes of race time avoiding the water and tiptoeing on rocks than to suffer from trench foot and nasty blisters in 10 hours.

I have packed a bunch of baby food for the race: on my person to start the race, I have 8 baby-sized banana muffins that my wife baked, and a baby smoothie package (Banana + Vanilla flavour [~100Cal]). I tried my best to eat at least one muffin every 30 minutes, and the smoothie within the first hour of the race.

The first 11kms until the first aid station (Mabou Trailhead) were quite easy; there was a slight hill, an easy descent, everything was runnable, but I needed to go to the bathroom - luckily the trail Gods heard my prayer and produced the only Porta Potty of the entire race course (just before km 11).  As I emerged from the Porta Potty, I see Chester running with a girl in a pink bucket hat  - I run the next 50 metres with them and into the next aid station, were I get my bottles filled with water, eat an oreo and a 1/3 banana. My aid station break was chaotic, and I probably lost a minute because I was disorganized. 

The first noticeable climb of the race was shortly after this aid station - it was not steep, but it went on for about 3km, and it was on extremely runnable dirt road (Broad Cove Banks Road). The road would level off at certain points that allowed people to run ~100 meters at a time. I pass Chester and pink hat again at some point, and I asked Chester if I was running too fast - this was a sincere question, because as I learned from White Rock Wednesdays, Chester is a very strong runner and if I'm running a race with him, either he's going too slow, or I'm going too fast. He said I wasn't going too fast, and also complemented my neon-green compression calf sleeves [which are 100% style and 0% function].

I swapped positions with a few runners for the next 4 kms. Runners with trekking poles seemed to be doing better going up the hills, but I felt like I could comfortably run faster down the hills. Runnable terrain remained the status quo until I hit the 15km mark at around 1h55min into the race. 

The orange and black course marking ribbons indicated that we would take a left turn onto a single-track trail, and the Beaton introduced the first "steep" climb of the race. For the next 1.8km, I followed this single track trail and climbed around 250m. There were plenty of switchbacks which made climbing the mountain manageable. A few of the slower climbers were nice enough to let me pass, and I caught up to a chain of about 10 runners which included Krystle Parrot (who I met at Keji a month earlier) and friends Helena and Gillian (henceforth known as the three amigos), and at least one runner with a bear bell. I would have liked to run this part a bit faster than this group was willing to run, but I told myself that it was still early in the day and I was enjoying this beautiful, very runnable trail. At around the 18-19km mark, there's a bit of commotion ahead of me, and as I'm wondering what it's about - I feel a sharp burning sensation on my right shin, through my compression sleeve. I am allergic to wasps/bees, and I worried that I would have to cut my race short at the next aid station (at the 20km mark). Shortly after the bug bite/sting, the trees clear up, and we come upon the first picturesque part of the race. There was a landing where people could step off the trail and take pictures of the scenic cliffside - nearly everybody around me did so. 

After our group was done taking pictures, we continued our way down the trail and towards the next aid station at the 20km mark - what goes up, must evidently come down. Once again, I was stuck behind a big group of runners who were going much slower on the downhill than I would have gone. It was at this point that the first place runner of the 46km race crossed our path. He was climbing at a pretty good clip - I never saw the 2nd place runner [who, as it turns out finished 37 minutes behind]. 

Climbing Till the Cows Come Home
2:50 - 5:45
20 km - 41.5km

As soon as we got to the aid station, we were checked for our running jackets. Each runner needed to have mandatory gear with them at all times. The picture above displays the items in my backpack as I started the race. 

Runners were allowed drop bags at the McKinnon's Brook Bridge Aid Station. I took a few moments to locate mine, sat down next to it - rolled down my calf sleeve to observe the bug bite and locate any swelling. It looked like whatever bit me took a small chunk from my leg - probably a deer fly, I can stop worrying about grabbing the Benadryl. I grab a dry pair of socks and a Zip-Lock bag containing my food for the next 20kms. Make my way to the aid station volunteers, get my flasks filled with water (drop a nuun tab in one of them), grab a banana and some gummies. 

This was once again an inefficient aid station transition. It took me about 10 minutes to get everything organized and going again. During that time, Chester came and went (as did many others) I said hello to Karine who had come into the aid station shortly after me. I kept looking for the 2nd place 46km runner to emerge from the trail - but he never did. 

So I'm off running again for about 100 meters. Just outside of visibility from the aid station was another big climb - similar to the first one; around 250m of elevation gain over a 1.8km stretch on a single track. I am climbing with Matthias Mueller, a gentleman in front of him, and a third runner who I had passed on an earlier climb. I think all three of them were running the 100 mile race, whereas I was "only doing the half". I thought it odd that I was running with Matthias, since he won outright the 50km Capes in 2019. He told me that his strategy this day was to "stay out of trouble", since this was his first 100 miler. 

About 1/3 into the climb, the third runner let us by, and Matthias and the other runner took off and within minutes were outside of eyeshot. After another minute of passing this runner, I turned around to see if anybody was hiking behind me - and I was alone. Once I got to the top of the climb, I see a tall runner just standing near the top where it leveled off - catching his breath. I make a joke about giving the heart a little break - he was wearing a YUL hat, which made me think he was from Québec. At the top was a nice, runnable single track. I take it pretty easy for the next minute to catch my breath and stabilize the heart, and as soon as I started running again, on the trail was a giant pile of moose poo in which I nearly stepped. 

The single track trails up here were beautiful, there were hardly any roots to step on or trip, the foliage around us was a mix of tall grass and trees, and the serpentine trails winded just enough so that you could only see about 50 meters ahead or behind you at any point, until I reached the end of the trail head. 

I took a right, onto a double-track road (think ATV trail). The road was wide, had a slight descending slope, straight and smooth, and bordered by arching trees on both sides. It was like running through a long tunnel, covered only by branches and leaves. We had cover from the sun for this ~3km stretch. At some point I caught up with a gentleman with rainbow socks (gaiters) and I stop to chat with him because I distinctly remember his socks from the 2019 race. He rolled his ankle earlier in the race and said that he would unfortunately be hiking the rest of the race rather than run. The man in the YUL hat ran by us, as did the three amigos. 

At some point, I bid this gentleman adieu and got on my merry way, re-passing the three amigos. Gillian had accidentally dropped some trash on the forest floor as I was passing them. 

We had been warned that the next water-access might only be 15kms from the last aid station - so I made a note to conserve water for this stretch, however once we got to the Cow Pasture "unmanned aid station" at 25km, water was present. I took the opportunity to fill my mostly full water bottles and headed out for a run. I get passed, and pass Dillon and Nick on this stretch, but I enjoy the company of the hundreds of cows around me. The downhill sections were my forte; the steeper and more technical the downhill the better - I felt like I could complete these sections much faster than the runners around me with minimal pain to the quads. 

 Over the 26km and 29km marks, there is a section of about 50m downhill/50m uphill. I bombed the downhill section with good foot placement and met up with the YUL runner on the climbing section and started chatting with him. The climb was not too steep that it took your breath away, but a bit too steep to run. So I started chatting with this guy, noticed that he had a Gaspésia hat on and asked him if he had done that race this year. I noticed his francophone accent right away, and started talking to him in French. Jacques Friolet of Caraquet, NB and I had a pretty good conversation about kids (his kids were now old enough to stay "late" and see their dad finish an ultra for the first time), experience in ultras, we tried to think of mutual friends as we ran for the next ~5 km together trying to chase down a runner in a neon-green singlet ahead of us (which we eventually did). We probably averaged a 6:30/km on this stretch - which meant we were moving well, but still slow enough to engage in conversation. Once we were 400m to the Broad Cove Banks Road aid station (at 35km), Jacques took off at a pace that I thought was aggressive and I did not follow him. 

I moved quickly through this aid station, because my crew (wife Katie, brother Mario and parents Ginette and Moe) would be available for me at 41.5km mark. The previous night, I told my crew to expect me between 6 and 7 hours into the race (between noon and 1pm), however given the nice temperatures, overcast, runability of the course, and great nutrition and hydration planning on my part - I would be getting there earlier than my earliest projection. 

At 11:09am I took out my phone and texted Katie "B4 noon" hoping that they would be ready for my arrival. 

I ran down a paved road, and out in the distance I could see the town of Inverness, the beach, and what I've been told is the nicest golf course in Canada. Some of the faster runners were making their way back from Inverness - for all of them, I applaud and tell them they look great! One of the runners advises me to stick to the wet sand when running on the beach. In the distance, I see Jacques' red YUL hat and a few other runners descending this road. By 11:00am the skies had cleared up, and I could feel the heat radiating off the asphalt. At the bottom of the hill a volunteer directed me to cross the road, onto a sidewalk up another small hill and on the sidewalk through the town of Inverness. *All of the Strava data that I looked at indicated that I should have crossed paths with RJ here, but I don't remember seeing him.* A bunch of locals were sitting on park benches, watching runners go by. I pass one or two runners who seemed to struggle a bit, but I was also moving quite well - everything is relative at this point. Another volunteer directed me to cross the street, take a short trail down to the beach, and run on 1.5km on the wet sand, towards the Inverness Harbour, where my crew is waiting for me. 

As I run form the beach and up the stairs, one of the volunteers asks me how I'm feeling, "Pretty good", I reply - and then there were like 3 follow-up questions to make sure that I was actually feeling good or if I was pretending to feel good. Maybe I didn't look good? Maybe I was a little sunburnt? Volunteers have the ability to pull runners off the course if they feel that they should not continue. 

Meet the Rest of the Crew
5:45 - 8:49
41.5km - 59km

I reached my crew at 11:45am, 15 minutes before I was expected. The crew accessible location was just under the midway point of the course. I planned to sit here for ~20 to 30 minutes, eat some real food, replenish fluids etc. When I made those plans, I assumed that I would be much more tired than I was. My crew was not ready for me to be here this early. They had the BBQ, tent, and chair set up, and Nora was enjoying her play pen. 

I sat down in a chair, took off my sweaty teal singlet and orange hat, and replaced them with a red shirt and rainbow hat, drank some Gatorade, switched out to new socks, stuffed my pack with a new batch of muffins and baby smoothie, and chatted with them until my chicken and cheese quesadilla was ready to chow down. 

I was feeling unbelievably fresh for somebody who just ran 41.5km with ~1200m of ascent. I spent 25 minutes here before heading out again - in hindsight, I probably could have cut that time in half, but this was essentially the plan that I had set out for myself in the weeks prior to the race.

One of the lofty goals I had set for myself was to finish this race (87km) in 13h30min - I thought that it would be possible, but I would need a great race day to achieve it. The reason 13:30 is significant is that the Vermont 100 mile race accepts runners who have:

• A 50 mile race under 12 hours
• A 100km race under 16 hours
• Consideration would be given on a case-by-case basis for "other" distances

I felt that 13:30 could get me into Vermont for 2023.

Another reason I wanted to finish in 13h30 was that this was my daughter's (11 months old) first trail race, and I wanted to carry her across the finish line - but her bedtime was essentially a cutoff.

To Mabou!

At 12:10pm, I finally get up and going again. A brisk walking pace to start, and then a slow jog to warm up the legs again.  

I made my way back towards the main street of Inverness, where I give a big high five to volunteer and ultrarunner Chalmers Blinkhorn. Make it down the sidewalk section and back across the road for another climb (all on pavement). During this climb, a car came up from behind me and honked - my brother had hitched a ride, and in his possession was my cell phone (which I forgot to pack up before I left my crew). It was only 3km from my crew access to the next aid station - so I quickly fill my water bottles a the 45km aid station, readying myself for the 13km trek back to MacKinnon's Brook Bridge Aid Station (at 58km). 

The next section was mostly a dirt road with some steady ups and downs - a Prius might not have been able to make the trek, but a Corolla could have (to give you a sense of the roads). I could see several runners ahead of me in the distance, amongst them were Jacques, and the girl in the pink bucket hat. Generally speaking, miles are easier when shared - I sped up a bit and caught up to the girl in the pink hat. This was Sophie's first 100 mile attempt, though she came in with multiple 100km runs under her belt and 7 years of ultrarunning experience despite being ~20 years old. We probably tackled a good 8km together, hiking up the hills and making sure to run the downs. It was just a delight to chat with her for such a long time about ultrarunning, Dalhousie University, and healthcare. I talked to her about my baby smoothie and baby banana muffin nutrition strategy, and she said that she used diaper cream (white zinc cream) on her feet for blister prevention (which is a terrific idea). This section of the course breezed by because of the company. I was doing some mental maths, and I was still pacing for a 13h30 finish time - she had informed me that she was a bit ahead of what she had expected for the race, but the first 55km were quite runnable. I got to thinking that I am either phenomenally well trained, or this course was not as difficult as advertised.

Sophie and I finally get back onto a single track - for the next 4kms, we are treated with some of the most picturesque vistas of the race. The single tracks here were just magical to run through; a slight downhill which minimized the effort, no roots, partial tree cover, a periodic glimpse of the Gulf of St. Lawrence on our right - at some point there was a field of lavender. We got to a point where other runners were stopped to take pictures, Jacques being among them. I stopped to take a quick picture, and continued on my way - not far to the next aid station. Sophie stopped to take some pictures, and ended up a few minutes later to the next aid station.

Beinn Bhiorach, Where Did the Time Go?
8:49 - 11:56
59km - 68km

The aid station was at 58.8km according to my watch, and I reached it at 2:45pm, which meant I was about 20 minutes ahead of my 13h30m goal (which at this point still felt achievable). At the aid station, Jacques, Dillon and a few others are hanging around their drop bags. I went over to my drop bag as well (I'm not sure for what purpose), got both of my water bottles filled, had an Oreo. I met a runner, Jeremy, who was having some stomach issues and he was taking it easy - he gave me a nuun + caffeine tab, which I popped it in my bottle. I talk with Jacques about how his day is going (I guess he had stomach issues at the beach, but he is better now). I was the first of this group to get up to start the loop and asked the volunteer how long was the next section. If you look at a course map on the website, we reach MacKinnon's Brook Bridge aid station at 58km, go out on an 8km loop to reach it again at 66km. 

"Oh, are you going up steep mountain? It's about 8km until you get back here". 

"The literal name of the trail is "Steep Mountain"?"

"Yup" 

 

I just noticed this at this moment, but the name of the trail on the Mabou trail map is "Beinn Bhiorach" which is Gaelic for "Steep Mountain"

I make my way up steep mountain still feeling pretty good thinking about finishing in time for Nora. I'm climbing at a good rate, and even pass Dillon on the way up. At some point, there is a runner in front of me who is completely stopped and hunched over his trekking poles... 

"Are you OK?", I asked. 

"I'm stabilizing". 

I don't know if the heat of midday mixed with a steep climb,  or if it was psychological seeing this other runner in this state, or if it was the nuun + caffeine that I took 10 minutes earlier, but it hit me like a ton of bricks. My heart rate spiked, I was suddenly feeling extremely tired, and hot, and drained, and I didn't know whether I could keep climbing. 

I found a single pine tree that could give me some shade, and I sat in shade for a few minutes. Dillon whizzed by me as he continued his climb looking strong. 

Full of doubt and despair, I strongly considered turning back and quitting, but that would mean moving again - which I didn't feel like doing. After a minute I thought that I was good to continue, I keep climbing for about 5 minutes, stop for a minute, climb for 5 minutes. It took me about 35 minutes to complete the first two kilometers of this loop. Steep Mountain was ~250m in incline, same as most other "major climbs" on the day, there were just no switchbacks to ease us atop the mountain. 

Once I got to the top of the climb, I was not even in the mood to appreciate the scenery (a huge field of blueberry bushes on the top of what seemed like the highest peak of the mountain range). I make my way down the next trail section, and even though I was a solid downhill runner for most of the race so far, I could not muster the willpower to run the next two kilometers downhill properly.

At this point, I know that this loop is going to take a lot of time, so I make the prudent move to stop at a stream and fill up my water bottles (I borrowed a Katadin BeFree water filter from Blair Mann in case something like this would happen) Two runners who were stopped at the top of the mountain pass me as I fill up my bottles.

One massive climb was hard enough for this section, but there was a second massive climb coming up. There was a runner ahead of me who was hiking slowly, but seemed to make consistent progress. I saw him splash his face with cold water from a stream to refresh, and I did the same and tried to regain some mental energy. I was not running, but at least I could move at a consistent pace and not stop for breaks. I took the second climb better than "Steep Mountain", it may not have been as gnarly as "Steep Mountain", but it was nonetheless ~200m in elevation gain. After I reach the top of the climb, I walk/run the remainder of the loop, constantly checking my watch. I expected the aid station at 8km +/- 200m. The 8km mark came and went, and then I thought it would be around the next corner, and the next, and the next - but it would not come for another kilometer. I compared notes with other runners, and it looks like the consensus is that it was a ~9km to ~9.5km loop. 

Regardless of exact distance, it took me 2h30 to complete this 8 or 9km loop, and I needed a break - and I think others needed one too. Steep Mountain lived up to its namesake.

As I got my bottles re-filled, I drank 500ml of water and 500 ml of Coca Cola - as I drank both of these, I look around at the aid station observe my surroundings. For a second, imagine a sanctuary for wounded soldiers - a bunch of people in various types of pain, hunched over or lying down, unwilling to move, requiring aid from the two or three good Samaritans who volunteered their time. I asked the aid station crew if they had ice, and they did not, but I look over and there is a stream not far from the aid station. I needed to cool down, so I laid down in the cold stream for a few minutes and closed my eyes. A runner who was at the aid station and hurting, Joel, had brought a therapeutic massage gun in his drop bag. At the time, I didn't think I needed it - my issues were mostly heat exhaustion and mental willpower, but my feet were so grateful as soon as I applied that sweet vibration to my arch. 

As I'm applying the therapeutic-gun, I hear a group of 5 or 6 runners complete that hellish loop, amongst them were Jacques, Sophie, and two of the three amigos - Helena and Krystle. 

Since my Vermont hopes were completely dashed, I made sure to take care of myself so that the last 20km would be completed. I changed shirt and hat (green singlet with white hat), and socks - took out my last bag of food (baby smoothie and muffins), and my headlamp. It was at this point that I texted Katie that she should put Nora to bed, as it will be well past her bedtime by the time I arrive to the finish line. I texted her at 6:15 that it would probably take me another 4 hours to complete the course. 

Did They Ever Take Out the Cocaine from Coca Cola?
11:56 - 15:00
68km - 86km

Jacques was the first one of the runners to get up and get going. I am not sure if we agreed to run together, but I think I just wanted to wait until I had some company to go out again for the final 20km. So we started up the last "big climb of the race, Krystle and Helena were right behind us as we got back onto the single track. Jacques and I are chatting away during this climb - and I felt like myself again (it was probably the Coca Cola). Once we hit the hill crest and had runnable terrain, I took off running. Jacques was keeping up with me for most of this section until we hit a technical descent. On the downhill I caught up with a runner ahead of me (Jeremy), and dropped the runners behind. I chatted with Jeremy for a few minutes - he seemed upset and preoccupied that he had forgotten to retrieve his headlamp from his drop bag. This would unlikely be a problem for him from 66km to 85km, but he would be in complete darkness for the return trip from 85km to 104km, plus a headlamp was part of the mandatory gear list and he could be disqualified if he did not have it on him. So I told him once I finished my race, I would find his crew and he could use mine. I think emotionally he needed to hear that, because he still needed to run another 90km, and he was starting to worry about things that can unravel quickly.

As I'm chatting with Jeremy, I turned around and couldn't see Jacques anymore. 

"JACKO!" 

"Oui?" 

"Es-tu OK?" 

"Oui!"

"Veux-tu que je t'attends?"

"Non, fais ta propre course" 

I'm feeling pretty good physically and mentally at this point, and with Jacques' "blessing" I decide that it's time to make a move, so by the time I crested the hill at the ~75km mark, I was all business. Karine Isenor (Race Director) was driving down this road with her car, honking her horn and encouraging runners as they went by. I ran this entire downhill section strongly. At the bottom of the hill and just before the aid station I pass Joel and another runner who are walking downhill, both comment on how strong I look. With every step, I'm also gaining confidence with every step. I get to the aid station, and I tell them that I want Coke, because my last section was amazing and I ran the whole downhill. They joked that they didn't have any cocaine at this aid station. I drank my Coca Cola, re-filled my flask with some water, sat down for a minute as I'm chowing down on banana and watermelon. 

At this point, I tell myself that I want to finish in 15 hours, and I also don't want to let anybody pass me. Jacques runs into the aid station about a minute after me and asks about how hard I ran that last downhill. The answer was "very hard". A minute after Jacques, appeared Krystle and Helena, and Joel and Joel's counterpart - my competitive instinct kicked in and told me that that was my queue to leave. 

By this time, some of the stronger 100-mile runners had passed me for their second loop, I counted 6 or 7 runners by the time I got to that aid station. I made sure to encourage every one of them, 100 miles is one hell of a goal to aim for, and even if you fail - you should be applauded for braving the attempt. 

It's weird to say in words how I was feeling at this point - I had run for about 14 hours, nearly 80kms, ~20km more than my longest ever run and 5 hours longer than my longest ever activity - and for the exception of slightly sore quads, I was feeling fantastic.

At this point, there is 9km between the last aid station and the finish line - the twilight is starting and it's becoming increasingly difficult to see the path ahead without a headlamp, but it's also that awkward time when headlamps are not effective. I make my way up the climbs, avoid the water as best as I can, and encourage the odd 100-miler that crosses me. 

Then, in the distance, wearing the unmistakable orange Solstice singlet that I've seen every Wednesday for the past three months, is the most beautiful, majestic scene of the entire race. Brewing in pure grace, I could see his moustache from half a mile away, bounding down the trail, in ~11th place...

"Is that Chester Dana?!"

We meet up and chat for a few seconds, and he tells me that he's feeling pretty good, he looked like he was in a fantastic mood and moving well. He congratulated me on a good race and went off to tackle his first 100 miler.

Seeing Chester in this state put me over the top - anything can happen at these events, but I saw Chester put in a lot of work to train for this race, and he deserved a good result. He looked mentally strong and focused, physically he looked perfectly fine - I was confident that he would go on to finish.

After having crossed paths with Chester, it was all downhill from there. Quite literally, the last 5km of the race were downhill - and true to form, I let gravity propel me down towards the eventual finish line. It was dark, and I had my headlamp in my hand to make sure that I did not trip on any rocks that might be on the road. I kept looking at my watch, hoping to get to the finish before 9pm. I wanted to finish strong, and eventually I saw a line of vehicles parked on the side of the road, and a whole bunch of people started clapping as I pass by. It felt like a proper victory lap. Jodi ushered me to the right hand side of the road and towards a chip sensor. I beeped in at 9:00:08 pm, and my chip time was 14:59:57. 

My first 50 miler was complete, and I finished strong.

Post Race

I wanted to find Jacques' family and tell them that dad would be in soon, but before I could even start to think about it, he had already crossed the finish line ~3 minutes after me. 

I start looking for my crew, who I assumed would be there - but I don't see them. A few crews and runners were hanging out at the finish line to help out and cheer on the runners and support the 100 milers. One guy offered me to sit in the back of his SUV and gave me some watermelon to eat. I called Katie to see where she was; and she had missed my finish because she had to put Nora to bed. My brother and father were supposed to be at the finish line, but I didn't see them - I called them, and they seemed surprised to hear that I had already finished. 

My brother apparently saw me running, but he could not tell that it was me due to the darkness - he apparently told dad that "That guy looked like Nick, but he was running too strong".

I went back the following morning to see Chester finish in 5th place.
RJ finished well ahead of me, in 13:09, Pat had an good run, coming under the 6h30min
Karine unfortunately injured herself and had to drop - but I have confidence that she will bounce back

Final Thoughts

This was a great event to participate in, and it was a long time coming. I'm very happy on how things went personally, and I had a fantastic time chatting with awesome people. The event was super well organized, and I love that Karine and Jodi, and the rest of the NSTR team want runners to succeed.

The race was a little bit easier than advertised, notably because NSTR projected that only 20-30% of 100 mile runners would actually finish (closer to ~60% actually did). Maybe there was a little bit of psychology happening there, pushing runners to train harder than they otherwise would. 

Aside from the Steep Mountain Loop which took me 3 hours to complete 8 or 9km, I thought the course was fairly easy and runnable, the vistas were beautiful, the trails were awesome, and the volunteers rocked it. I'm happy with how strong I felt at the end - I definitely had more gas in the tank, and probably could have done 100km to 120km on this day.

Doing hard things is a worthwhile investment. Overcoming challenges changes us for the better and acts as stepping stones for more difficult things in the future. This race showed me that I can bounce back from adversity. I bounced back from the disappointing result I had in Keji a 6 weeks earlier, and I also bounced back from the Steep Mountain loop to finish strongly. I hope to continue on this journey and to eventually earn a buckle (100 mile).

I would like to thank my crew for being awesome, present, and for cheering me on. Thank Chester, RJ, Karine, Pat, Blair, and the rest of the Moncton Trail Running community for Wednesday and Thursday night trail runs. Thanks to NSTR for putting on a fantastic event and to the volunteers who showed up. Finally, a special thanks to my wife Katie, who took care of Nora every Wednesday and Thursday so that I could chase dreams - this would not have been possible without you.

 

Lessons for Next Time

• Steep Mountain earned its namesake
• Be more efficient at aid stations
• Coca Cola works
• In my drop bags, instead of using ~8 muffins and 1 smoothie; double the smoothie and halve the "dry food"
• Baby foods are gentle on the stomach
• Wear sun screen
• Hydration strategy and nutrition strategies were good (early and often)
• Consider a bucket hat
• I did 4 sock changes, 2 might have been sufficient
• Topo shoes were minimalist, a bit more structure on the bottom would be good, toe box room was great had exactly zero blisters
• Moving consistently, even slowly is better than not moving
• Get a better headlamp

https://www.capes100.com/

https://www.capemabouhiking.com/

Capes 2022 Training

 Capes 87 Training - 2022

Nutrition

• Carb loading for 2 nights before the event, worked well at Fredericton and Mabou.
• Eat often and early, start with every 30 minutes.
• Baby muffins and baby foods are pretty easy to digest: No issues at Capes or Fundy Circuit.
• Stay away from Apple, Cinnamon, Chia
• "Dry" foods, like muffins, can require more liquids as the race goes on - eat these at the aid stations, where you can refill your water, or gradually transition from "dry" to wetter foods as the race goes on.
• Simpler carbs the hotter the weather.
• Coca Cola
• Try Red Bull in training

Feet

• For 3 weeks prior to race day, I moisturized my feet every night, and also soaked them in water and got rid of major callouses
• No problems with blisters during Mabou
• Slight pain on big toe
• Did not need to "tape" feet
• Used Topo running shoes
• Plenty of room for the toes to splay, no issues other that it was a "minimalist" shoe and my arch was tied by the 85km mark. 
• Purchased Altra running shoes - a bit more sturdy outsole
• Changed socks 4x during the race, water wicking socks might be better suited, especially since there was minimal wet feet.

Training

• Peaked at 70km/week for 2 back to back weeks - this was good for 87km race
• White Rock Wednesdays helps with most hills
• Need to practice something more steep, for steep mountain
• Long runs or B2B long runs 
• Fundy Circuit was good mentally and physically (more technical than Mabou)
• Back to back long runs
• 21 + 21
• 34 + 17
• 50km weekends was sufficient for Capes 87km, need to up to ~70 or 80 for 100 mile
• Running in heat was tough during training but paid dividends.
• Should add some speedwork, once per week - felt fitness drop a little over the summer.

Failure Points

• Aid station efficiency
• Steep climbs
• Got slightly behind one hydration and fuel

Keji's Backyard Ultra

 Keji's Backyard Ultra Run

BACKGROUND

This event used to go by the name of "Sonofa Gunofa Run" and took place in Five Islands Provincial Park in NS. After a few years of Covid cancellations in 2020 and 2021, the event rebranded and changed from a ~5.7km loop with ~160m of elevation to a ~6.7km loop with ~40m of elevation and conformed with the established "Backyard Ultra" norms. 

So what is a Backyard Ultra? For those not in the know, it's a new race format that seems to be getting more and more popular in the past few years - it's a great format for people to get PRs in distance travelled.

Here are the RULES, if you're interested.

In essence:

• Runners must complete a loop within the hour
• Each loop starts exactly 1h after the previous loop
• Runners must be in the starting corral at the top of the hour to start the loop
• Loops must be 4 miles 880 feet in length (6.7056km )
  

PRE-RACE

I have been looking forward to run this event for three years - and I had high expectations. We booked our site to the Kejimkujik National Park and National Historic Site earlier in the year. I did a bit of research on the park and the "runability" of the loop, etc. 

Kate and I dropped Nora off to her grandparents for the weekend, stopped at a grocery store and planned my race-day fueling, ensured we had all of my running gear, and made our way down to the Nova Scotia Valley - a 4 hour drive from Moncton. 

On Monday morning, I had checked the weather forecast at the park. It was looking like 18C and some overcast - a great day to run 80km to 100km perhaps? Thursday night I checked facebook, and somebody had mentioned that it was going to be hot and humid. Forecast was now closer to 28 -32 range, and ~40% humidity. 

Yikes.

This event format is quite unique in that it does not benefit a runner necessarily to run fast. As a rule, it was my goal to end each loop in ~52 to 54 minutes, giving me between 6 and 8 minutes to drink water, stretch, change shirts if needed, etc. 

In the past, I had done a similar event (Personal Peak Virtual Backyard Ultra) whereby I ran approximately 54 minute laps, and totaled 61km. This was the benchmark and the minimal distance I tried to beat on this day.

RACE

Kate and I setup my chair and stuff near the start finish line, near the garbage bins - in a small spot in the woods - a few other runner Ryan and Rob join me (I forget their names multiple times during this event until I got it right)

**Not remembering people's names/landmarks/times was a theme throughout the day, and was an oddity. If you've read any of my other blogs, I tend to have a generally good recall of people, events, things, names - but it wasn't the case on this day**

The race briefing started about 10 minutes before the event, and I was hoping he would wrap things up quickly so that I could go pee. Nope. Race brief and race start immediately after. 

1st Loop 

After the first 100m, I was in about last place (slowly walking up the hill) and then moved onto a slow jog down Jeremy's Bay Campground Road (an actual road) and made my way up the field to the point where we took a right turn onto the [Meadow Beach Trail?] at about 2.7km. Took a time check (~17 minutes) and followed a group. 

I tried to identify other landmarks on this run, and aimed for specific times at those landmarks - this would let me know if I needed to slow down or speed up.

Bridge - 22 minutes

Bench - 27 minutes

Turn away from river - 35 minutes

Turn onto Slapfoot Trail - 40 minutes from start/finish

With only 5 bathrooms for the whole field, I felt that I had to run quickly on the first loop to get in line for the bathrooms - not ideal given my lap goal, but it's lap 1 and I'm still feeling pretty fresh. I ended up running behind somebody who I felt was in the first 1/4 of the field, but also took it easy. We ran in silence for about 1km, and then we began chatting. This person was Jason White - he and a buddy planned on running +300kms on this run, his Instagram handle is @singletrackmind__ and I told him that there was a beer from Graystone Brewing in Fredericton that's named the Single Track Pale Ale.

We end up running the first loop in around 46 minutes. I ran straight to the bathrooms (there was a lineup). Came back to my chair, drank a bit of water, replaced my shirt which was already soaked and donned a singlet. 

Good to go, move into the Starting corral for the 2nd loop with plenty of time to spare. 

**The race director would whistle when there was 3 minutes, 2 minutes, and 1 minute left in the loop, to warn folks of how much time was left**

2nd Loop

I needed to go much slower than the first loop, but my issue was that my memory was fleeting. I could not remember the benchmarks that I had set during the first loop. This was probably due to the poor sleep I had had the previous night.

At what time do I want to get to the trail head? At what time do I want to get to the bench? River? Slapfoot?

I hit the trail head at about 18 minutes this time - this was probably still a bit too fast, but at least I'm not exposed to the sun. (which at ~10:20am was already starting to beat down on us) The road section, whilst extremely runnable was also completely exposed to the sun, and had very little shade. I tried to run this section as fast as was conservatively possible - then hike/fast walk to the bench. ~31 minutes.

A bunch of people had passed me at this point, and I was not sure whether I was running too slowly, or too fast. I had no concept of where I was on the course, nor how much time I would have at the end of the loop - I started to panic a bit and ran the rest of the course. By the midway point of this loop I needed to go to the bathroom once again - this time for a #2. I sped up again and finished the loop in about 50 minutes - ran to the bathrooms - came back to drink some water - and back to the start finish line. 

There was not a lot of time to spare.

3rd Loop

During the 3rd loop, I tried to remember my landmarks and associated times. 

Run on the road for about 18 minutes 

Fast-hike on the first section of the trail for about 10 minutes and let a whole bunch of runners pass me. Chester Dana (also from Moncton) passed me just before the benches, and I thought I would start running with this group. We started chatting a bit about the day, I noted that I passed the benches at 32 minutes this time - which was a bit faster than where I wanted to be, but ultimately was easily doable.

We ran most of the rest of the loop, walking during the minimal "uphill" sections, and easy jogging the rest of the way. It was during this loop that I started to cramp up a little bit for some reason - just a little in my hamstrings - but I was not happy feeling a slight niggle this early in the day.

I was still having some issues remembering the landmark times that I wanted to hit, but I trusted that this gang of pretty solid runners knew the pace zones that they wanted to hit - so I did not bother myself too much with the landmark/timing aspect of it. 

We finished this loop in about 52 minutes; I ran over to Katie who was cheering me on at the Start/Finish and I gave her a look (like a big sigh = holy hell it's hot out here). At the end of the 3rd loop, it was coming up on noon hour, and there's no place to hide from the sun. I took a salt tab, drank a bunch of water, and had some salted sunflower seeds for nutrition. 

4th Loop

The 4th loop was carbon copy of the 3rd loop.

18 minutes to the end of the road, fast-hike from the road to ~bench, hit the bench at 31 to 32 minutes, start running with whomever had passed me at the time, and run to the finish in about 52 minutes. 

It was during this loop that I started to get thirsty and perhaps a bit dehydrated, I think I may have ran with Chester, maybe not? I can't quite remember the details. All I remember is that it's about 5 minutes from the turn away from the river to the Slapfoot trail, and about 7 minutes from Slapfoot to the Start/Finish.

With 8 minutes to spare, I decided to change my shoes from Salomon trail shoes to Hoka road shoes - my feet were starting to hurt slightly, especially my big toe. It was at this time that I wanted to run with my portable water bottle - so Kate filled it up with water. 

Katie said that she was interested in hiking some trails today, and asked if I needed her on the next loop - I thought I was doing fine and said that I had everything I needed and that she did not need to stick around for the next loop.

Back into the corral. 3 whistles...2 whistles... 1 whistle. 

5th Loop

I don't know what happened on the 5th loop, but the heat really started to get to me. I was weaving on both sides of the road to try and get as much shade as possible - by 1:00am the sun was absolutely beating down on us and it was tiring me out considerably. I tried to run, but it was very difficult - still, I was not in last place. 

The road was hot and exposed, and by this time I no longer wanted to push in the heat. By my first checkpoint (turn into the trail) I was already 4 minutes behind previous laps (22 minutes). Instead of hiking the next section of the trail, I felt like I needed to run/walk it, as my pace was not a great indication of finishing the loop in time. 

I met up with Ryan who was also struggling from the heat and ran with him for a short amount of time. He was hurting a bit more than me, and at some point I told myself that I needed to push on, because I was not sure that at this pace, I would be able to make the end of the loop. 

There was a few people at this point that were running for about 1 minute, then walking, then running, then walking. I got passed, and passed the same guy about half a dozen times, but I think we both ended up running this loop in time. 

I was near the end of the loop when I heard the 3 whistles (indicating 3 minutes left). Went over to my campsite, drank water - refilled my water bottle, grabbed a pack of skittles and back into the starting corral. I thought about not starting again at this point - but then I told myself that I felt better than others were looking - and that if I quit now that our race results would reflect the same thing. 

Pride told me: No, you're going back out there.

6th Loop

By the 6th loop, I was feeling awful - cramped in my chest and legs. I couldn't tell whether my heart rate was 80 or 150 when I was walking. 

Most people started running down Jeremy's Bay Road, and they just got smaller, and smaller, and smaller, and smaller - I thought eventually I am going to feel like running a bit. I looked behind me and I think there were 2 or 3 runners behind me at the 1km mark. I started chatting with this woman (can't remember her name) and she was probably on her last lap also. 

About 1 more km, and after a brief run/walk, I am walking down the road, alone. I look behind me and nobody is there - I am in last place on this lap. Some people might have turned back, maybe I imagined them?

I hit the trail head crossing at 24 minutes. Mental quick maths told me that I will need to run this trail section as fast as last lap to finish on time. There was a runner in front of me by about 150m, and I told myself "I think I can catch up to this person"

I start slowly running on the trail section, and I can sort of see him through the trees, he is not far from me. Then I take a walking break. Back again on a quick trot. Then again a walk. I can't seem to sustain a run - my chest and back are cramping up and I'm very warm, but my focus is basically this sole runner and nothing else. 

I know that there won't be anybody behind me to pass and motivate me, so I need to be the self-starter at this point. By the bench I caught up to him and followed him as he was walking (37 minutes). We walked together for a little bit of a while, and I let him lead us. This was a runner from Digby I believe, and I also can't remember his name.

I felt uncomfortable with the amount of walking that we were doing, so I passed him and ran for about 5 minutes, and back into a walk. We sort of passed each other, and worked with each other for a while, until he got away from me.

I hit the Slapfoot trail at 53 minutes, and I knew that it took me about 7 minutes to get from here to the finish line, so I knew I needed to start moving or not officially finish the loop. 

I started slowly jogging UP the trail section with a bit of elevation - as long as I kept moving at a respectable clip, I would be able to make it to the end of the loop on time. 

In the distance I hear three whistles - there is still some ways to go before the end, but I thought 3 minutes of running is mental, not physical. I had the Digby runner in my sights off into the distance - I wanted to keep him in my sights, at least until the descent. 

At the end of the loop, there is a nice, short descent, where I could open up and get a decent pace in without too much effort. 

- Two whistles - 

It's go time: I hit the slight descent, and open up my cadence and the legs turned over quickly, in what would be a pretty good pace when I'm feeling good. 

- One whistle - 

I cross the Start/Finish area with less than a minute to spare, and walk over to my chair and slouch. Katie is telling me to stay and run another loop, but I am completely demoralized, hot, thirsty, cramped. I am done, done.

 

DNS

I stubbornly sat in my chair and waited until Jodi told the runners to start loop 7. I was officially out, and did not even run a full marathon. I just sat in my chair for about 5 minutes, head in hands, and incredulous at the fact that I came so short of expectations. 

Unbelievably disappointed in results.

Lessons/Post Race

After the race had concluded, Kate and I went over to the beach to soak my feet in the water - we had a discussion, and I expressed how disappointed I was for finishing so early and coming so short of my goals - I needed to process this and what it meant for my next event: Capes 87km (in August). 

After I showered, I returned to the race Start/Finish line to drink some beers and perhaps hang out.

I sat with a group where we chatted and, drank a few adult beverages, and discussed the event.

It turns out that I was not the only person who fell far short of expectations, and this made me feel better about myself. I stayed at Jason and Lee's (aiming for 300km) crew station, where they made it apparent at how underprepared Kate and I were to deal with the heat, nutrition, and other things. I am very new to this running thing, and with Covid cancelling all events in the past two years - I feel like I had to make some mistakes to re-learn a few things. 

After the Fredericton Marathon, where I put 100% of my attention and focus on a positive outcome - and I had success - I sort of went into a lull in focus, recovery, and training. This event fell in an awkward timing between training and recovery, and I was not been completely focused on doing well at this event; I treated it like a long run that was part of my Capes Training. So much mental and emotional energy was placed elsewhere.

One thing I have never had to deal with in the past was overheating - I have never done a summer event in the past where cooling off is vital to success. Most of the events I have done were either Fall or Spring race weekends, or Capes in 2019 but that being off the Bay of Fundy, had some moderate temperatures.

I watched a recap of the Western States 100 - which occurred on the same weekend - the way they deal with heat and humidity, they had ice vests, etc. there are a lot of things that I could learn from adopting tactics like that in the future. 

I also listened to a podcast specifically about heat exhaustion/heat strokes, and it made me feel a bit better. 

For one, this was the hottest day of the year, and so it was impossible for me to have completed any sort of meaningful heat training up to this point in the year.              

I have some homework to do for next time: Better prepare and learn the course map, try to get some heat training done, and maybe do something about the bad sleeps (I think the poor sleeping affected my resilience a bit).

As my friend Chris said; in hindsight, you ran basically a full marathon in very difficult weather conditions. And I think that's a decent summary of the day. 

Lastly, nutrition. My nutrition consisted of skittles and salted sunflower seeds. I will be scrapping that, and also re-introduce Keto dieting during trainings.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank Jodi and Karine for the fantastic event, I thought it was well organized, and Karine made sure to encourage all runners as they finished their loops. This event had to be deferred in back to back years, changed names, changed locations - but overall I thought they were transparent and kept people in the loop. The course length may have been 100m longer than regulation, but it was nice and runnable. I wish the weather would have been more forgiving. 

Even though I didn't know too many people out there, being one of a handful of people from NB, I would like to thank the runners and crew from NS who let us hang out and get to know you. 

A big congrats to Chester who was crewless, but nonetheless ran a masterclass 16 loops/~112km. You're going to crush Capes. See you at White Rock. And to Steeve Reeves the winner of the event.

Finally, I would like to thank Katie for being my support crew once again - sometimes I am not the easiest person to deal with, but she supports me regardless of mood or crazy adventure I put myself into. I think she learned a few things about crewing, and enjoyed herself as well. 

Next up for me is 87km at Capes. 

Till then.