Fat Dog 120 - 5 Uphill Upchuck

Tale 5 - The Uphill Upchuck
I was finally refueled and ready to fly! For a whole of about 10 minutes as I started up climb 2/4. Then I realized something wasn't quite right. I've been hydrating lots, I had eaten recently, but I had very little energy and didn't feel all that great. I tried eating some more, but it didn't seem to help. I continued to hike at a snails pace for a little while until it dawned on me. My stomach wasn't emptying. It was too hot and I was going too fast to digest. I couldn't do anything but continue to snail up the hill. This was made only slightly better (and somewhat worse) by the fact I was passing people who were clearly feeling very similar, and some who were evidently feeling much worse (refer to tale title). The distance to the next aid station was only four miles, so I climbed on and decided to re-evaluate at the top.

Running into the wall of smoke on Ashnola River Road!

When I got to the top I grabbed a seat at trapper aid station with a few others who look like the first 22 miles of the race might just be their last.
I also felt like shit. I had 98 miles left in this race. Calcite aid station was a short(?) 10k away, with a fair amount of downhill. My mom, and my first pacer Shira, were waiting for me at Bonnevier, so I had to at least make it to them at the 40 mile mark.
I start to tremble. It's definitely not cold out. I'm getting nervous and I don't know what to do. I seriously consider dropping out. I hydrate as best I can on electrolyte - this aid station seems to be sorely lacking supplies as well. Not a great day to be a back of the packer (but probably a great day for backpacking!). I decide to continue, how bad could it be? I have to make it to Mommy!

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Fat Dog 120 - 4 Oliver at Ashnola

Tale 4 - Oliver at Ashnola

Family tree!

In case you are unfamiliar with our family tree - Oliver is the boyfriend of my sister-in-law, who just happened to be running the relay leg from Ashnola to Trapper.
I like to think I'm a pretty nice person, and I like to see other people succeed, but as I was slow roasting on the way down to Ashnola I was really hoping his team mate was behind me. Ashnola is only 18 miles into the race, but it's 18 miles after which you could really use a familiar face.
I arrive to find he is still there (wahoo!). He kindly packed a bag of food (stuffed with pizza and bacon and candy and PB&J rolls... yummm) while I soaked in the river. The food was much needed since the last aid station was lacking.
Oliver gave me a report on Chris (who in classic Chris fashion ran off with a bag full of bacon) and Brad - and it sounded like everyone was doing well so far!
I happily trundled off down the road with my bag'o'bacon, and shortly after saw Oliver zoom by.... Boy is he fast!

Having conquered the first big climb, and with a belly full of bacon (did I mention bacon?? It's great!), I was ready to take on climb number two.... Or so I thought.

The first climb from the start of the race!

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Fat Dog 120 - 3 Cache out at Cathedral

Tale 3 - Cache out at Cathedral

The first aid station is only 7.5 miles from the start. Easy, right?
Except the start is alllll uphill. Uphill to the point where the altitude starts to make you a little bit dizzy, and somewhat sleepy.
Now I'm a traditional middle of the packer - and I'd say I was holding true to my nature, except since we had relay runners in the mix I'd say I was likely closer to the back by the time I hit the first aid station. Time to re-fuel... but wait.. there's isn't really much to refuel with. I escaped with the last bit of gingerale and was thankful I had a good stash of food to start as there was only a few PB&J rolls left.

It was a pretty roasty day, thankfully I had practice at soaking in streams from Sinister, though the streams were much fewer in this stretch. The heat seemed bearable up through Cathedral, but as I dropped down to Ashlnola it felt like I was in a pre-heating oven! It just kept getting hotter and hotter!

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Fat Dog 120 - 2 Wace Day Willies

Tale 2 - Wace Day Willies

I'll just leave this one here:

Willies - a strong feeling of nervous apprehension and discomfort.
Nervous apprehension - Check. Discomfort - Stay tuned!

By race day, I was pretty certain I could finish 100 miles.
I discovered that tapering is this great thing to do before a race where I run less thus can't sleep because I have ALL THE ENERGY IN THE WORLD! But then I also need to eat to fuel myself, and for some strange reason I'm not hungry (but... but.. I'm always hungry...). Not sure if it's because I'm running less, or because my stomach is now home to thousands of beautiful butterflies. I did however, by some miracle, make it to race day without starving!
Finally, the tiny butterflies that have been destroying my appetite for the last week have decided to migrate on. Something about spending 40+ hours out in the wilderness and needing to eat something before that may have scared them off.
We have discovered the best pre-race breakfast, which is likely going to sound insane, but actually provides lots of salt, calories, and sits amazingly well!
Drum roll please....................................
Indian food! Complete with Naan, butter chicken, palak paneer... yum yum!
I do recommend you go for mild spice to avoid the potential for untrustworthy farts later on (there's a video I was thinking of to put a name to this phenomenon - which had me googling 'ultrarunning poop fart' - wonder what kind of targeted adds I'll get now?). Also, try it in training before you race (the food, not the farts), or... don't.

Race ready with our animal packs!

We stayed in Penticton before the race, and Chris' Uncle Kevin was kind enough to drive us out to Keremeos to jump on the bus in the morning. Alright, so we've made it to Keremeos, it's maybe 8:30 am. Race starts at 10 am.
A few weeks back we ran into some lovely relay runners out on course way-finding on legs 1 and 2, and they happened to drive on by before the bus came, and offered us a ride to the start. There were already four of them, and a dog! I guess that's the great thing about Delica's - we still managed to fit all three of us (Chris, Brad, and I) cozy in the back seat! It was quite the entertaining ride. The person in the drivers seat kept turning around to talk.. and I mean fully turning around and taking her eyes off the road for quite lengthy periods of time. I was terrified. Until I realized it was a right hand drive, and she wasn't actually the driver (haha.. ha... phew!). I really truly love the people in the trail running community.

We make it to the race start, and have plenty of time to use the washroom and check in. It's a beautiful sunny day, perfect for the beach! Perhaps a touch hot for running, and more than a wee bit smokey (BC had some wildfire madness this summer that nearly cancelled the race - but eventually it was decided the show must go on). After waiting around for what seemed like an eternity (maybe an hour?), the race started! Albeit with this ridiculously useless out and back up and down a gravel road to 'space people out.' Then we shoot over the iconic start bridge and straight uphill. Ready or not, here I come!

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Fat Dog 120 - 1 Tales from the Trail

Prologue
In 2013, I paced Chris in the Fat Dog 120.
I had an easy job. Thirty miles. Almost all downhill.
Despite his obvious discomfort, particularly slow pace, and disgustingly large foot blisters, he somehow still managed to make this insane race look fun.
So in 2014 he does it again, takes a ridiculous 9 hours off his previous time. Less pain for him, more inspiration for me. At the same time, I take on the 70 miler. Still believing I'm a sane individual, I run for about 21 hours, cross the finish line, and decide I never need to run again.
Of course you know how long that lasts. About... hmmm... a week? It takes about that long to forget the pain and remember only the glory of crossing the finish line.
So, fast forward a few years and here I've decided I can't stop at 70 miles, I have to at least finish a 100 miler! Sinister 7 was my first attempt at 100 miles, but we all know how well that went... if you don't, I suggest you back up and give it a quick read here!

With the madness that was Sinister 7 under my belt (or lack thereof given I didn't get far enough to get a buckle), my 100 mile dreams lay in the hands of the Fat Dog 120. For your sake, I've split the adventure into a series of short stories... enjoy!


Tale 1 Troubling Training Tumbles
I love running. Most of the time. Well, maybe we should call it more of a love / hate relationship. The further you go the more you can see, and there are so many beautiful places to explore! When I'm out on the trails I feel so strong and carefree, and I can stop worrying and let my mind run free with me. But not every run is easy. In fact, some of them are really $*@)ing hard. I show up to the trail, run for 5 minutes, realize I'm exhausted/sore/sick/starving, get a really weird pain in my leg/foot/ankle/tail/flipper (maybe it's all in my head?) that I've never had before and never will again, burst into tears thinking I can't do it and shuffle back to the car feeling very defeated. But somehow it never stops me from doing it again and again, because when it's good... it's so inexplicably good! So here I am, extremely excited for Fat Dog, but also beginning to doubt my sanity just a little bit. I'm going to be running for HOW LONG!? I've barely ever pulled an all nighter let alone two... while constantly moving (and eating, oh god eating...but we'll get to that)!

I put everything I had (outside of *possible* over-commitment to my job) into training for this race.  You see, I'm not very good at saying no to things (But you didn't hear it from me!). So those days earmarked for long training runs instead became long days in the office with promises of future training runs (Don't worry, we've got LOTS of time to train). Except we've only got three weeks left and I need to go further and further and faster and further and climb more hills, climb ALL THE HILLS!

Training run up Wedgemount! Did I mention doing ALL the hills?

Let me start with a little story about the day my exemplary commitment to my job, and perhaps my lack of respect to the 100 mile gods became literally painfully obvious.
Friday night, after working a particularly long week (what's new?), we drove out to Manning Park to meet Chris' dad, Brad. Saturday morning we got up early and drove out to Bonnevier with plans to run about 30 miles point to point up through Heather Meadows and down to Cayuse Flats.
Here's the kicker - about 15 miles in I caught my toe on a rock (You might even say I.... kicked it..) and went flying face forward into the beautiful alpine meadows. My right knee struck a rock on the way down and left me rolling and reeling in the meadows. Nothing a little tylenol and ibuprofen can't fix! The pain isn't too bad, so I hobble on. I make it maybe another 6 miles before I catch that same damn foot on the side of the trail and proceed to dive forward, this time into a nice fallen tree with perfectly pointy branches sticking out all over. Convinced that I've been impaled by this beast, I yell for my prince...err Chris, to come rescue me. Now I'm bleeding in three places, and I can't hold back the tears as I proceed to hysterically launch into a speech about how I don't know what I'm doing and how I'm not built for this sport and why am I out here when I clearly don't belong and who put those &*#!ing rocks on the trail anyways?! I should have just stayed in bed. Thankfully, Chris has an uncanny ability to set me straight, and we make it back to the car mostly unharmed. Though I'll have you know I have three scars as a constant reminder not to overwork yourself and run! I even woke up the next day with a nice swollen knee that I couldn't bend. Naturally, I put all of my running clothes on and headed out on the trail (It's just a flesh wound!)... only to return five minutes later with those all too familiar glossy tears in my eyes.

Needless to say, I was feeling overworked and undertrained. But my knee healed up, and I managed to get in at least one more good training weekend (the first 40 miles of the course) before the race! And then it was August and time for the moment we've all been waiting for....The day I realized I might actually be a little bit crazy (Oh, you already knew that? ...Hmmm)!

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Elsay Lake hike

This past Sunday, Jenna and I did the hike to Elsay Lake, and although it was a longer study break than intended it was not unwelcome. Turns out that Elsay lake is the beautiful back side of Mt. Seymour that you'll want to see! That being said, this was a challenging route, so plan appropriately.

The stats:
Distance: 19.9km round trip
Climbing: 1160m ascent/1160m descent
Time: 6hours (that's how long it took us with some running, a lot of walking and no stops)

Starting from the Seymour parking lot, we headed toward the trail and the sign post for Dog Mountain. Instead of taking the sharp left to Dog, we headed up Mt. Seymour trail, still to the left, but you can tell it's going to go straight up the mountain. This part is a good incline and a bit rocky but everything is well packed in, so definitely runnable in portions. After about 2km uphill, just before the first pump of Seymour, we reached a bit of a plateau and a sign post indicating the direction to Elsay Lake and Elsay Mountain. The distance markers were rubbed off, but it was clear where to go. We were sure because of the warning signs saying "not the way to the parking lot" and the overhead cable signs indicating the extreme risk of avalanche. After questioning what we were doing and the meaning of life, we proceeded past the signs to the first descent. This section wound between the forested section on the right and the boulder field on the left, dropping about 250m.

First descent after the turn-off from Mt. Seymour trail.

From here the trail stayed left to cross the boulder field. This section was still downhill, but somewhat less steep, dropping another 50 meters or so.

Crossing the boulder field below the peaks of Mt. Seymour. Trail is visible on the far side of the valley.

Despite the hot summer we had, there was still some snow on the trail. I'm guessing this route is not accessible for a good portion of the year, and given the potential for avalanches in winter, perhaps not the smartest route to choose anyway.

Jenna carefully crossing the snowy patch.

On the far side of the valley as we got back into the trees and started going up again, there were a few markers indicating a small trail going up to the left (Approx: 49.398026, -122.929947). This trail went to Mt. Elsay and apparently can be connected for a loop to the peak of Mt. Elsay from Mt. Seymour. We took the trail to the right to continue to the lake.

After the short up, there was a short but steep downhill to a series of small ponds. This section required some skill to keep our feet dry as we hopped across the mossy/marshy area. The pond was tranquil with the still water reflecting the mossy rocks and surrounding trees. Although this isn't the campsite, it looks like there is an area you could pitch a tent if needed.

The mossy pond. Careful keeping your feet dry!

Continuing on, we followed the outflow of the ponds down a small valley, eventually reaching another steep descent, followed by an open boulder field. The valley provided a nice soft section to run on and the first part of the descent was switchbacks through the trees along the narrow trail, so not too bad. The boulders however were quite large and the trail markers were not super clear, making this section challenging. As we only had small running packs on we were able to scramble over and down the rocks, but I could see this being tough with a big backpack.

At the far end of the boulders, there were trail signs indicating the direction to the lake and back to the parking lot. Only 2.5km to the lake now, but we had to hurry as we were getting close to our turn around time.

This section up to the lake was a slight incline over beautiful spongy trail. Made for some fantastic running! Before getting to the lake we crossed several small streams and one larger one.

One of the bigger stream crossings shortly before Elsay Lake.

Arriving at the lake we were treated to views of the surrounding mountain peaks and the warm sun shimmering off the water. It really felt like summer still!

Left/south toward Mt. Elsay.

On the far side of the lake we could see a small A-frame. Didn't expect that! Maybe should have done more reading before the hike... Anyhow, just a few minutes around the lake to get to the cabin.

Looking across to the cabin.

The emergency shelter (as the sign indicated) looked nice from the outside and looked big enough to fit quite a number of people, but the inside could really use a little cleanup. The outhouse appeared to be clean, just need to remember to bring TP if we go back to stay overnight.

The emergency shelter up close. No fires :(

A little messy inside, but the loft was clean and roomy.

I was not able to identify this one, so let me know what it might be if you have an idea.

More neat and very large fungi along the trail.

Soul Sucking Sinister 7

Oh Sinister 7. Where do I start.

I've been dreaming of my first 100 miler for years... at least since 2015 when I signed up to do this race. Let me just say, it was not at all what I expected.
The spring started out so well, I was getting in lots of running before work, enough that I managed to set a personal best 10k in April. Although I seemed to be running lots, I really struggled to get in the long runs I needed. Every weekend there seemed to be another road block that kept us from reaching our long distance goals.
Though were a bit lacking in mileage, we thought we were in decent shape by June when we planned to do our longest run - the Vancouver 100 (a 100k course from deep cove to horseshoe bay area and back).
A bit of "luck" came our way at the start of June, and we found ourselves with this lovely little thing called the flu. And not just an "I'll take some Tylenol and sleep it off in a day" type flu. A knock you on your ass, high fever for days, puking off the side of your kayak flu. You can ask Chris about that last part ;) Shout out to Nick for getting him home safe - I believe Chris still owes you a kayak trip!
Alright, so now we're two weeks until race day, and all of a sudden instead of "it's okay we've got lots of time" it becomes "okay, maybe we're under trained." So we do what any 'normal' runner would do, and we attempt one last shot at getting in a long run. We decide to head out to Cultus Lake and spend the weekend running laps around it. We know the route around the lake from running the Cultus Lake Give'r Take 30 each fall. Really fun race, but sells out in the first day of registration so you gotta be quick to get in! The distance around the lake is 25k. Our goal was to hit 4 laps for a solid 100k run.

Lucky as we are, on lap 1 we discovered this beautiful little plant that goes by the name of stinging nettle. It. Was. EVERYWHERE. Now, I don’t know if you’ve had the pleasure of interacting with this lovely herbaceous perennial flowering plant, but I don’t recommend it. When you touch it, it stings. When you run through it, it stings, and stings, and continues to sting. Long story short, there was a lot of it, and as such the first 15k was significantly slower than planned. By the time we finished the first lap, it was already looking like 100k was out of reach. We continued on to complete a second lap. I downed a can of coke and was ready to rock. Chris, however, wasn’t feeling so great.  I made a great speech about going on without him, but we decided to take a quick nap in the tent, and eventually had the strength to go on! We manage 75k and decide another 25k isn’t worth the pain. I know running around the lake sounds lovely, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t some killer hills!

So we head out to the race having established that our training wasn’t the best. However, we have our eyes set on our next race, the Fatdog 120, and decide that Sinister will be a great training run no matter what happens.

Race day comes, and as promised, it is hot as hell. I’m talking 30+ degrees in town, doesn’t cool off, can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t escape the heat. PERFECT race conditions. Especially when part of the course is named Satan’s Sack as it is “hot, dry and exposed.” I'd love to say we did some good heat training, but given the cold spring we had with the term 'Mayvember' thrown around - let's just say we weren't all that prepared.

The morning of the race went a little like this:
1) Wake up - can you call it waking up if you never really sleep?
2) Eat breakfast - Too nervous. Can't eat. How do you run 100 miles without eating breakfast? Choke down some food. Good enough.
3) Use the washroom - 4 times, 5 times, when will I see another toilet?
4) Start race - Clouds in the sky make for a nice cool(ish) morning. This might not be so bad.

Leg 1 was great.
We ran on some roads and trails out of town and headed up into the hills while the weather was still reasonably cool. 100 miles ain't got nothing on me.
Leg 2 was hot, steep and dusty.
Suns out, clouds are gone, things are heating up. We start by winding up through the mountains. Then it's time for our first big ascent. It is steep! Fortunately for us, the descent is just as steep. Except it wasn't all that fortunate, because they were too steep to run down! It was more just sliding down and debating if rolling would be easier. Easier? Yes. Less painful? No. They were also dusty. Very very dusty. If you're behind anyone they kick up dust and you eat it. Guess I didn't need breakfast after all. I made a poor choice at the last minor aid and didn't fill my water bladder. So when I rolled into the aid station 20 miles in I was covered in dirt and had been without water for 2-3 miles. I burst into tears as soon as I got there. I wouldn't exactly call this fun (insert typical - 'how in the hell did you think a 100 miler would be fun' comment here).
With a little food, a lot of ice, and a face wash - we head out onto leg 3.
Leg 3 was the sackiest satan that ever sucked my soul.
I'm not trying to be dramatic. But this leg was awful. It was just endless rolling ATV trails with very little cover. We had to stop at every stream and soak our hats and dunk ourselves to stay cool. We couldn't eat solid food because all of our energy went to cooling down. I was roasting. I had no energy. I couldn't escape the sun. The trails weren't even that pretty (maybe I'm a snob from BC, but I love my single track and alpine meadows). I had zero motivation to go on. The miles were SLOW. I remember at one point hitting a sign that said 9k to the next aid. It was the longest 9k of my life. It felt like a death march. That was even before we hit the burnt out forest. We pushed on at the SLOWEST PACE EVER (see, no drama here), with little desire to continue forward. We passed people wretching on the side of the trail. We didn't talk to a single solo runner out there that didn't feel like shit.
Seriously, picture those movies where people are crawling through the desert, dying for water and seeing mirages. That's basically how I felt (except I had food, and water, and wasn't seeing things).
Alright. So I'm done. But I'm not giving up that easily. I'm at least going to make it back to the major aid station where Chris' parents are waiting.  But it's so hot, every kilometer feels ENDLESS, even on the downhills. We're living on electrolyte drink. Apparently everyone is. We run into the race director (not literally, and by this point I'm not sure you can call it running) at one of the minor aids who appears to be concerned and is telling the volunteers to ration electrolyte.
WE SURVIVED LEG 3! With enough time to keep going onto Leg 4!
Leg 4 consisted of us sitting at the aid station with Chris' parents, happily eating pizza with no intention to continue. It was an extremely easy decision to make at the time. We were both hot, hungry, and miserable.

It was less of an easy decision the following days when we looked back and wondered whether we could have continued. Though rumor has it that the course doesn't get any better, so we did ourselves a favour by not going on. Maybe a course better left to relay runners.

Big shout out to our crew who drove all the way out to Alberta to wait (at the same aid station allll day) for us to run 40 miles. Who slathered us in sunscreen, and dealt with my sobs a mere 20 miles into the race. Brad and Sue you guys rock! Whoever said in-laws are awful?! In case you're curious I just googled it. It turns out there are lots of people that say it. Clearly they don't have in-laws as cool as mine.

With that wonderful experience behind us the pressure is on for Fat Dog! Better start training.....