Riverlands 100 Mile Endurance Run

SETTING THE STAGE: A GAME OF CHICKEN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PRE RACE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We quickly set off from the word "GO". 

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

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

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

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

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

[Placeholder for rock stairs]

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

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

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

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

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

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

You got a friend in me.

You got a friend in me. 

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

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

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

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

Mario Crossing on the first lap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You got a friend in me.

You got a friend in me. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(crossing Billy) 

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

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

I probably forgot half the stuff he mentioned. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The race leader offered only a grunt of acknowledgement. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Unfortunately, dehydration is not on the list." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I had to live in my head for a while. 

That's my Papa!

Unfortunately, hallucinations is not on the list!

That's my Papa! 

Foot blisters is not on the list!

That's my Papa!

Beep!

Only 10 more miles till my nice warm bed. 

That's my Papa! 

That's my Papa! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What can I get for you?" 

I need electrolytes! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

I replayed in my head, my daughter saying:

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

That's my Papa!

That's my Papa!

That's my Papa!

Clinging onto one of my happiest memories.

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

Closer and closer. 

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

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

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

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I finished in officially 30:20:39.

Greg about 50 minutes faster!

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally...

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

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

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

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

Thank you, love you guys.