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.
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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:

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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