Chiggy Ultra - Millbrook's Revenge
40 days after having earned my buckle, I was foolishly back at the Chiggy Ultra.
Some would argue that 40 days is not enough time to recover, but I won a raffle and got into the race for free - so I thought, why not?
I was once again face to face with the race that humbled me. [Link here]
Now for those who do not know, Cape Chignecto Provincial Park is comprised of the highest cliffs on mainland Nova Scotia - directly across the pond from the Fundy Park and the Fundy Footpath. A 2-hour drive from Moncton.
The trail conditions, however are those of a provincial, not a national, park.
Barely any sign of civilization.
Rugged and wild.
Mud, oh the mud.
Single track sections bordered by long grass.
Roots and rocks.
Hills, some steep, some long.
A few river crossings (with bridges thankfully).
Amazing views and sights on a clear day.
Chiggy is an unquestionably difficult ~50km ultra. The 2000m of elevation gain/loss alone makes it challenging, but then you add the mud, the rocks and the technical terrain. It makes it both a challenge of endurance, AND skill.
To prove my point, let me compare the pace distribution for a few of the local ~50km races:
- 52 km race at Capes in 2019
- 46km race at Capes in 2022, 2023
- 48km Fundy Circuit in 2019
- 53km Chiggy Ultra in 2022, 2023
***
Woke up at 3:00am and drove from home. I arrived on-sight at 5:10am to pick my bib.
I coincidentally get handed my favorite number #79, chat with Joel Taylor, met Allison MacFadden (running superstars) at the start line, and get ready for the start.
At 6:00am, runners corralled past the green gate of the park entrance.
John the Race Director read us the Runner's Creed.
The Runner's Creed
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
Ran on every trail twice
Hugged everyone once
Seen porcupines stuck
Fought off three hungry bears
And I know a man in Spenser's Island with a dog named Willy
I climbed more vert, got dirt on my shirt, more than any dirty vert climber around.
I've a scarred body, never rested, sleepy, weepy, creepy, stiff legged, hallucinating,
double salt tabs, trail running dirtbag.
There isn't a trail I'll say no to.
No vert too steep, no rain too hard, no descent too rough.
Been in a lot of pain caves in my life.
Never attack a large hill with a small attitude.
Wore all kinds of Bois in my life. Phatt Bois, Flat Bois, Toed Bois and those nasty Bois
with Goat Spikes screwed in to keep me topside on icy trails.
Any hill in life worth running up is worth doing repeats on.
I'm a lover, I'm a fighter, I'm a day or night badass trail runner.
I'll drink beer, persevere and sneak out the back door when my work is done.
So if you are feeling antsy then you'd better run because this trail runner's been there, done that and going back for more.
Cheers guys
Deb and John Collicott
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
"Alright you can head-on out"
There was a bit of confusion I think because of the casual nature of the word "Go".
A hundred headlamps moving through the darkness towards the park.
It was a very cold morning, people were shivering at the starting gate, but I knew it would not be long before things warmed up. Despite knowing this (it might have been because of the 3:00am wakeup call) - I kept my jacket on.
Last year, I went out too fast, blew up the quads early on, and struggled for the last 30km of the race - ignorant of the park's difficulty. This year, I knew what to expect. I knew the torture chamber would be difficult and long, and was familiar with Refugee Cove and Mill Brook climbs.
From the word "Go", I started walking down the main road - fiddling with my watch. I did not need to use the "Ultra Run" mode, because I had a full battery. About a minute after the start and 100m into the race, my watch started recording, and I was able to focus on what was ahead.
Taking things easy, I walked the downhill, and hiked the uphill. It was apparent that I had developed into a decent climber throughout the summer, as I was passing a whole bunch of people with little effort. That first hill had a "passing lane", a few of the runners ahead of me were leading the charge, and I gladly followed along.
You couldn't really make heads or tails of the people around you, all you saw was the trail and headlamps.
About a kilometer into the run we pass by the first post with a red sign "1km". A bit further was a large arrow pointing to the right - "Chiggy Runners", towards the McGahey Brook Trail. Still quite dark outside, you could only see the multiple lights ahead of you. Somehow I ended up immediately behind Luc Doucet, in a train of about 5 to 10 runners. There were 5 runners ahead of me, and I did not really look behind, but there were definitely some behind.
"Oh hey Luc"
"Who is that"
Not really sure if we were on first-name basis yet...
"It's Nick"
We were moving pretty easily, across some water crossings. The first 2kms were not too muddy, and everybody in this group were being cautious, finding various alternative paths off the main trail when there were wet spots. For most of the wet spots, a few feet off to the right or to the left was sufficient to avoid the soaked ground.
At some spots, I was happy that I had taken my poles to "test" some of the wet spots. We were moving at a decent/easy speed up this trail. The effort unfortunately started heating me up in my rain jacket.
"Wait, which Nick?!?"
Ahead, I see two headlamps running the wrong way.
"Ignore us"
"You're going the right way"
"We're just dumb"
These two had missed the initial turn and were doing a "reverse" McGahey - but also adding ~2.5km to their total run.
At around 2.5km into the run, Luc decides that he's warm, and stops to take off his jacket - I continue on for about 10 minutes and step off the trail to take off my jacket and go for a quick pee. I had turned off my headlamp. A few people passed me, and then I was back on my way - alone.
I did not think that I spent that much time putting the jacket in my backpack, but when I looked up there was nobody. I then ran down the trail and tried my best to avoid the wet spots, but it is tougher when you're alone. I had eventually caught up to somebody and started talking to Troy from Fredericton - he was planning on two laps today. As we made our way towards the end of the 5km McGahey Brook trail, a downhill towards the main trail - Troy steps off the path to do something and I was alone.
Near this time the headlamps started being optional, and the temperatures were crisp, cool, nice.
Having felt that I lost some time, and that people who were closer to my pace had moved on ahead, I felt some pressure to make up for lost ground. I pushed somewhat hard on the downhill, crossed a wooden bridge - and then came the second significant climb of the race at 8km into the race. I could see some of the headlamps ahead on the switchbacks ahead and had set myself the goal to catch up to them.
Making quick work of the hill and onto the first switchback. I look back and see no headlamps coming from McGahey. I knew there were 7 or 8 people ahead in a group, and soon enough I see 3 of them stopped at the first "sight seeing" point of the route, about 1/3 into the climb. They were taking off their jackets or taking a breather from the initial effort, soon enough I could tell I was going to catch up to the group. Though my breathing was controlled and my legs felt fine, my heart rate shot up to ~170, which confirmed my fears that my body was fighting a cold.
Nora had started daycare a week prior, and like every 2-year old who starts daycare, brought home a cold - which meant I was starting a cold.
I got behind a group of four runners. I think Matthew Burke was leading the group. I could have pushed through and passed them, but I thought I would do the cautious thing and allow somebody else to dictate my pace. After climbing slowly, Emily and Robyn ask to pass on the uphill and everybody steps aside for them.
As we crest the hill, more people ask Matthew to pass, and pretty soon it is just the two of us. This next section had some easy running, with the odd water/mud section. Matthew would gain 100s of meters on me when I tried to circumnavigate the wet spots, but then I caught up periodically. We were like a bungee cord never snapping, just lengthening and shortening at times.
At some point the two guys who had taken the initial wrong turn had come up behind us, passed quickly, and were out of sight.
I was taking my sweet ol' time here. Walking in places I could have been running, eating some clif bars and croissants I had packed, enjoying the trail beauty and using my poles strategically to avoid walking in the water crossings.
Behind me, people were catching up on the Eatonville trail. I planned on just running with them until the Eatonville Aid station. It was a woman with long pink compression socks (Cathy), and Luc Doucet, who I was surprised had not yet passed me.
We started chatting a bit, and Cathy was leading the charge... she mentioned she is a road runner, so the Eatonville trail was right up her alley - with little technical difficulty. The three of us were running quite well together and soon caught up to Matthew Burke. The memory is a bit fuzzy here, but I believe four of us ran mostly together until the aid station at around 17kms. We emerged from the trail and ran on a dirt road until we saw the bunkhouse and volunteers.
Eatonville Aid Station - 16km - 2h45
Race time was around 2:45 when I arrived at the Bunkhouse, much slower to last year 2:20. Aid Station transition was quite fast, refilled water, drink Coca Cola... a bunch of people at the station when we got there. Luc was waiting for me, stretching by the exit road.
We left the Eatonville Aid quickly, and ran down the road behind these two army kids (they had camo bucket hats with "Army" on the front of their shirts") Matthew in tow.
Army guys ran up the trail and dropped us on the way to seal Cove. Luc and I were moving quite well through the trail, and we were doing decent in avoiding some wet feet at the few boggy bits.
There was a steep incline somewhere around 20km, (where I distinctly remember losing function in my quads last year) and we dropped Matthew on the climb. He was doing 2 laps, which made sense that he would slow down a bit. Luc and I were also both registered for 2 laps, but I think both of us were thinking only 1 lap, and "we'll see how we feel at the end of the loop". At some point, we caught up to Cathy, who led us towards the torture chamber. Luc was tapping all of the km signs as we passed them "for good luck".
The three of us tackled the chamber in an OK way, each taking our respective turn to lead the group. Cathy was talking about how she splits her year into Crossfit and Running, and Luc talked about how he marked this park as his territory last year and the Divide 200.
A bit ahead, we all passed the Army kids who had stopped and were drying off their socks.
Every time we passed one of those muddy, boggy sections Luc complained loudly,
"Why don't they just bring some rakes and get rid of this effing mud!"
"This trail would be so much nicer if they only used some rakes once in a while."
I don't know anything about trail maintenance, but he seemed pretty peeved that nobody was bringing rakes in the middle of nowhere to manicure a lightly used trail.
At some point, I lost patience with finding dry paths on the trail. Going around the muddy bits was just not efficient, and I was getting my feet wet and muddy anyways, so I just decided to trudge along through the mud.
Because of poles, I did not have free hands and I got a bit behind with calories. I also focused on chatting with the other runners and the mud puddles instead of nutrition. Then there's the unevenness of the terrain. If you do not have the secondary stabilizer muscles ready for this run, everything just takes a beating. The ankles and knees and hips, and back, and everything in between just gets beat up to the point where, once you get to a runnable section - you need to actually muster up the willpower and courage to do so, it doesn't come naturally anymore.
At some point Luc, Cathy and I got separated. I felt like I didn't want to do this thing anymore. Cathy moved ahead at her regular pace, and Luc had stopped to chat with a hiker he knew. I was running alone reminiscing why I was here. It was thankfully a beautiful day, and we got some amazing views of the New Brunswick coastline at the extremely exposed sections of the trail. Weaving back and forth from forest to rocky surface to forest. One of the Army kids had caught up to me and passed (he was running strong), and then a train of like 6 people were running and asked to pass me. I was surprised I was ahead of so many people. I was munching down on my croissants to get me out of this energy lull and gladly stepped aside for this group.
Past this point and eagerly needing to drink some water and replenish some food, and maybe just take a break. I got into a section of uneven mud and rocks and coming from the other way was Shane Patelakis and Tyler Isbister - two volunteers who were set up at the upcoming aid station. Talked with these two for a few minutes "It's going terribly, and I don't want to talk about it, but also, Hey!"
Big Bald Aid Station - 30.5km - 6h05
A few short minutes after meeting up with these two, I eventually make my way up the trail and into the second Aid Station. I needed to replenish my stash of croissants (the only thing that was going down easily). Clif Bars were no longer appetizing. As I got to the Aid Station, Tony Fromm and Eric were running around and making sure runners were well supported. I refilled my water bottles, and grabbed some gummies and assorted foods from the tables - and made my way towards my drop bag, search and search - at some point, defeated, I surmised that somebody must have grabbed my drop bag. There were an identical bag to mine that was there, but it was filled with perogies and other stuff I did not recognize - and definitely not my pop tarts and croissants.
Luc caught up to me and asked me how I was doing. I gave him a look that said it wasn't going well, and I'm sure I complained loudly that I could not find my drop bag. I was a full 20 minutes slower than last year coming into this Aid Station.
Luc turned it around pretty quickly and left the Big Bald Aid Station quickly, it took me a few additional minutes to get settled.
Feeling dejected about my lack of Pop Tart options, I filled my ziplock bags as best as I could with chips, candies and other assorted foods for the next section.
Despite my attempts at slowing down during the race start (Start to Eatonville) to try to suffer less and be more efficient on the Torture Chamber section - I was only able to make up two minutes versus last year between Eatonville and Big Bald. I was still tracking around 20 minutes slower overall.
Leaving the Big Bald Aid Station unenergized, and with my pockets full of cookies and candies, I attempted to catch up to Luc again before he developed too much of a gap to catch up. I caught up to Cathy again and a small group of people on the next climb, and instead of passing them I stuck with them for a little while. We crossed both the Big Bald Brook and then the Little Bald Brook by picking out our pathway across the large pile of accumulated driftwood. On the other side was a subtle stone staircase that got us to the trail at the top of the next section of trail.
As we started exiting the Torture Chamber - the trail conditions slowly starting to improve into more and more runnable sections. Cathy and I continued to chat as I think we dropped some of the other runners. We talked about our kids and our lives, and she mentioned that she was surprised to hear me running so well considering my daughter has started daycare a week prior.
"Typically kids get sick and pass it onto their parents when they start daycare."
I don't exactly know why I was feeling less "powerful" than I had anticipated. I could have been starting a cold, and my early heart rate data would support this. I could have been in a caloric deficit, I could have simply had an off day, or... and this was probably the case - it also takes more than a month to recover from a 100 miler. These all sound like excuses, and they probably are...
As we were moving along the final bits of the western coastline towards the south-western peak (Devil's Slide Cove) we accidentally continued towards the "sight-seeing" trail and not the main trail and had to double-back, adding about 3 minutes to our total time. We got passed by Emily and Robyn while on our little misadventure, and caught up to them a while later. Still mostly hiking through the difficult terrain, we trudged our way through mud. Though around the 35-37km, running started being possible again. We started moving from ~13:00/km to low 11:00/km and it was during these runnable sections that I noticed my lack of "umph" - what should have been routine trail running was laboured, heavy, and without finesse. The people running with me were moving further and further away.
Soon enough will be the climbs - first up was Refugee Cove Climb. I was feeling weak - not enough calories, despite trying to stuff my face as much as possible at the last aid station.
Lack of calories led to moodiness. But still accepted the company.
Local Adventure Guy (Laurie Currie) came down Refugee Cove and linked up with Cathy- I power hiked to the top of Refugee at a half-decent pace with them. Having done this race in the past year, I knew it there was still some way until the next Aid Station, though the next section was finally runnable. I trotted slowly through this section, trying to keep up with Cathy and Laurie.
Mill Brook Aid Station - 44km - 9:05
At the last aid station, I was super tired. I got there at 9:05 Race time, which was still 20 minutes slower than last year. Adam Harris was manning it with a few other souls - I think he was dressed as a pirate. Adam is one of the most badass humans - he completed his first 100 miler running 3 loops of the Chiggy Ultra. We talked few a few minutes as I try to stuff my face with coca cola and Oreo cookies. Lamented how my race was going. But he reminded me that I had just finished a 100 miler a month prior, and that a down performance was sort of expected.
Adam Harris' Blog Entry
I left there, feeling ok. Knew there was only 8kms left to the course and then I could go home. I've had my fill of Cape Chignecto for the day. Trudged along with a bit more energy. Completing the final 8kms was largely a solo effort, though I was rejuvenated.
Though Laurie and Cathy had left me in the dust a while back, at the aid station, I eventually caught up and passed them.
I still had my downhill legs that were working, likely because of how gingerly I took the first 50kms of the course. During the last few hills, I allowed myself to power down the hills at maximum speed. Somehow I managed to run a 10:52 race time, which is technically 3 minutes faster than the time I had in 2022. This last section of the course, I ran 23 minutes faster than last year. Crazy.
P.S. I finished the second part of this blog a year and a half after completing the course. Forgot a lot of details from the course. This course is incredibly difficult, and cannot be an afterthought.
