Fat Dog 120 - 7 Cruising through Calcite

Tale 7 - Cruising through Calcite

The source of smoke, seen from Flat Top.

It's dark now and I'm not even at Calcite. There is nobody around. It's finally cool enough outside that I'm starting to feel much better. Why is there nobody around? What kind of animals are out here again? Do I even have enough time to finish this race? Is there anyone else left out here? AHH BEAR. Oh, wait nope person. There is someone else out here - I'm not alone! What. A. Day.

At this point I have my music in. Really anything to help motivate me and keep me moving forward. I wait as long as I can to pull out my flashlight, I'm not ready to admit it's night time - I planned to be much further along by now.
Down and down and down we run...
Aha - Calcite! And they have food!! I slurp back pop and perogies and anything else I can get my grubby little hands on. But it's late, and I feel like I'm going to start missing cutoffs, and that my 100 mile dreams are slipping away.
Some of the people around me have running buddies. I'm flying solo, and a little bit jealous of those who've banded together, but I don't have time to wait. I just need to make it to Mom, and everything will be okay!

Leaving Calcite the trails are still mostly downhill, and by now it is very dark. I'm putting all my effort into trying not to get lost. I don't have time to get lost!
EEEEK! What is that!? Oh. Just a toad. Toad on the road! I don't remember this taking so long in training! I'M COMING MOMMMY!!

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Fat Dog 120 - 6 Farewell on Flat Top

Tale 6 - Farewell on Flat Top
Oh Flat Top. This section of the course is actually one of my favourites. It's a beautiful run around trapper lake, then a bit more of a climb over flat top mountain which has views for days!
I wouldn't say I was feeling much better, but I was at least moving forward. About half way up flat top I see this flash of orange in the trees ahead of me. That looks a lot like Chris' pack. Oh no, am I hallucinating already?! It's way too soon for that! Is it him? Man I could sure use a morale booster. But.. if that's him then he's clearly having a tough day. Well, I don't want that.
I round the corner at the top of flat top to find my husband hanging out underneath a tree with a couple other guys.
If you need some inspiration for a movie - I have a scene for you:
The sun is setting on a beautiful mountain top just outside Cathedral Provincial Park. There are gorgeous views into the valley below.  There is little shade to be found, but for a few stands up ahead.
After a full day of running, the sun still relentlessly beating down upon the runners, a wife is torn between excitement and sorrow at finding her husband hiding in the shade behind one small stand of trees. He's got a ghostly look on his face as though he's been lost in the bushes for days without food.
Wife: How are you doing?!
... No response...met with zombie like nods and eye rolls as if to say 'how the hell do you think I'm doing - you've been out here all day - you tell me how YOU'RE doing)
Wife: I feel like shit!
...Now we've got the crowd going. Don't. We. All.
Husband: I feel pretty bad, I haven't been able to keep food down.
Wife: I love you, Jack.
Husband: Don't you do that. Don't you say your goodbyes, not yet. Do you understand me?
Wife: I'm so warm.
Husband: Listen, Rose, you're gonna get outta here, you're gonna go on and you're gonna make lots of babies and you're gonna watch 'em grow. You're gonna die an old.. an old lady warm in her bed, not here. Not this night. Not like this, do you understand me?
Rose: I can't feel my body.
Jack: Trail running, Rose, was the best thing that ever happened to me.. it brought me to you and I'm thankful for that, Rose. I'm thankful. You must.. you must.. you must do me this honor, you must promise me that you'll survive. That you won't give up, no matter what happens, no matter how.. hopeless. Promise me now, Rose, and never let go of that promise.

Oh no wait... that has already been done.
I do imagine our encounter much the same, except we aren't Jack and Rose, and we're on the top of a mountain roasting instead of in the ocean freezing. 
I tried to take him with me, hoping a running companion would help him through this rough patch, but he was too ill to go forward - and told me to go on and run my own race.
There's nothing quite like the feeling of leaving your husband on the top of a mountain, never to be seen again... DUN DUN DUNNNNN. What a great movie!
Okay okay I did see him again... or did I?

Looking back along the course from the top of Flat Top Mountain.

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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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