Black Cayon Ultras 100km

After a 3:30 am wakeup, successful Starbucks mission, shuttle bus to the start line and three laps of the ladies washroom line, the build up to the start of the Black Canyon 100km felt infinite. When I finally joined the herd and headed towards the start line on the Mayer High School track minutes before 7am, I was ready to go. Andy and I chuckled as some runners complained about how “freezing cold” it was, and others gave kudos to the “brave souls in shorts” (us included). Admittedly, it was a little chilly, but nothing comparable to the -23 deg C I had left behind in Banff two days earlier, and while it might not have been ideal standing-around weather, it was the perfect temperature to run in. I was stoked to enjoy it while it lasted, and grateful that the forecast for the day had dropped from around 30 deg C to the low 20’s.

Start line – Hidden Treasure Mine (Start – 19km) – “This is what I came for”

I’ve never experienced a more pleasant race start, as this one began with a quick lap around the high school track, and then an immediate, brief road descent down into a neighborhood before spitting us out onto some sweet-ass desert single-track. We had all been cautioned not to go out too quickly, and to take it easy on the first half of the course, which is basically a series of long descents punctuated with many short and sweet flowy climbs. It would be easy to destroy your quads and we had also been forewarned that the second half of the course involves much more climbing, and runs harder than the first half. I had semi-arbitrarily mapped out some target splits that I thought might bring me in under 12 hours the night before. I hoped to reach the first 50km in about 5 and a half hours, giving myself 6 and a half hours for the second half of race. This meant averaging a 6:30 ish/km pace for the first 50 km, and a 7:45 ish/km average pace for the second half. I cruised pretty easily the first 19km, riding the descent and creating a buffer of time on my goal for the first 50km. The footing was more technical than I expected on some sections of the trail which was littered with rocks and uneven, hard dirt, but there were some totally flat and trail-porn-worthy sections. The singletrack weaved in and out of canyons and up and over little climbs and it felt good to dance through the desert in a conga line of other runners. I ran right through the first aid station since I didn’t need anything and I didn’t want to waste even a minute if I didn’t need to yet. I was taking it easy but still coming in ahead of my target pace, so my mind felt free to just take it all in and enjoy the morning. Before I knew it, I was approaching the 2nd aid station,

 

19-35km – “Diarrhea in the Desert”

Things turned sour pretty quick. As I neared Hidden Treasure Mine aid station, I.had.to.go. I really didn’t feel like finding a spot for a rogue poop since I knew there was a porta-potty waiting for me within 1km or so at the aid station. I rolled into Hidden Treasure Mine, made good use of the porta potty, stuffed my face with some potato and headed back out. I felt…..iffy at best, but imagined things would improve as quickly as they had gone south . My only distraction was a dude than came rolling into the aid station screaming for a medic, his hand was cut. Maybe he fell on a cactus, I thought, horrified. As I checked my watch, I had a 5 minute lead on my ” 12 hour plan” splits and I was confident my shitty situation was behind me. Within the first few hundred metres out of the aid station, it came very to clear to me that it was not.

And so, I took a dump in the desert in the desert. I crapped behind a cactus, I shit in the sand. So many times. Each time, hoping it would be the last. Did you know that it is very hard to relieve oneself discreetly in the frickin desert? I would try and hide behind any wiry bush or big rock, or down in any gulch I could find that appeared to offer privacy only to realize I was still pretty much in direct view of the conga line of runners continuing along the trail. I am sorry if anyone reading this was one of those runners. I’m also sorry if you don’t want to read about this but hey, this is what happened during my ultra experience. I probably annoyed and confused other runners as I was repeatedly ducking off the trail, jumping back on, maybe passing a few people, only to repeat later once they inevitably overtook me again while I was semi-inconspicuously pooping alongside the trail.

I kept moving as best I could, but running seemed to shake up the evil brewing in my belly and forced me to a walk at times, even going downhill. I was bleeding time each time I stopped for a potty break or walked and I watched my 12 hour plan fall to shit, so to speak, but I stayed pretty calm knowing there wasn’t a whole lot I could do about it. As is usually the case during an ultra, this was just a phase and by km 35, I felt the worst was behind me. My belly troubles would come back to haunt me a few more times throughout the race, bringing my rogue bathroom-break total to approximately 12 pit-stops, but I soon felt “back to normal”

36-60km – “I’m gonna get you sucka”

Feeling good again and turning my attention back to enjoying the endless desert singletrack and army of cacti surrounding me, I refocused. With the time I had lost, my new goal was to hit 50km under 6 hours, I could still have a really good day out there! I was HOT but there was at least a breeze to add a bit of relief. I commented on it and the girl running in front of me said “I know, I’m pretty chilly!”. Um, WHAT!? I suppose the one hot yoga class I had done the week leading up to the race hadn’t provided as much “heat training” as I had hoped, but I was feeling warm AF and poorly adjusted to the temperatures, having completed much of my training in -20 deg C or colder temps. I guessed that the girl (who’s name I learned was Magie) was a Phoenix local, and right I was. I ended up joining her in a train of chicks around my age and we passed maybe 7km together. Maybe it was the conversation with other badass trail chix, the salt pill I had taken at the last aid station or just the relief that I had successfully not pooped my pants (aka super cute shorts), but I felt GOOD.

I rolled in and out of Gloriana Mine aid station at 38km, heading for Black Canyon City where I knew there was a tall can of PBR awaiting me, bracing myself for the net downhill of the first half of the course to soon cease and for the notoriously harder second half of the course to start with some climbing. I used my heart rate to gauge my effort level, and was surprised to find myself running up the hills with bounce in my step. I was catching and passing runners steadily and though that wasn’t really my MO out there, it began to fuel and motivate me, and I felt strong. I probably got overtaken by so many people while I was on the side of the trail earlier, it felt good to know that I was making up some ground. Looking at the results after, I wasn’t imagining it. At Bumble Bee Aid Station (~30km) I was in 220th place. By the time I rolled into Black Canyon City, thirsty for my beer at km 60-something, I was in 132nd place. I don’t know how accurate those results are (did I actually pass 88 people!? Black Canyon City was also where the 60km finishers ended their race so who knows what the numbers really are) but I know I came back to life, in a sense. At the aid station, I chugged half my tall can of delicious beer and gave the rest to a dude who said he was dropping due to foot issues. I hope he drank it and changed his mind! I didn\t make it in and out of the aid station as fast as I had hoped, I’ll have to get better at a) being more efficient at aid stations or b) having a more realistic sense of how long I might spend at each.

60 – 74km – “Where the HOLY HELLHOLE IS THAT AID STATION”

The last few km into Black Canyon City had been part of an out-and-back. As I left and headed back to the main trail, it was nice to pass other runners coming in. I still felt like I was running and moving well and I was just so genuinely loving the trail. To me, this course was like when you get onto a section of trail that you’re like “Aw yeah, I love this part”, and then that continues for 100km. There was more climbing in the second half, but the climbs felt so manageable compared to the terrain we have in the Canadian Rockies, and even the grade of many of the roads I run. What started to challenge me was the technical nature of parts of the trail, which I had not expected. I was getting lazy to lift my feet high enough and sloppily began to kick my feet out to avoid rocks and maintain my goal of not falling on a cactus. I was doing a very creative trail-flail. Flail-running. This aggravated my recently-sprained left knee, but nothing a generous application of voltaren gel couldn’t silence, which I had in my pack.

I continued to push and let my heart rate guide me, surprising myself as I ran up hills. As it did for much of the race, the trail wound in and out of canyons in the ‘S’ shape. I spotted three women up ahead and focused on catching up to them. I noticed that I would gain ground uphill, but was losing ground as soon as the trail flattened out or descended. Pretty much the opposite of my normal running style. I also noticed that my heart rate was 10-15 bpm lower than it usually would be running on this kind of terrain. I thought that was weird, as Myke had warned me my HR would probably rise steadily throughout the run. It means you can go faster, I told myself. I used these three ladies as motivation to keep me going at a good pace, but around 75km, I hit a wall, hard. A few times I felt the urge to stop in my tracks, let my arms and head hang down like a rag doll and just whimper, so I did. I was so tired. I wanted to sleep (it was barely dinner time) and my lower back was KILLING me. One of the times I took a pause in rag-doll stance, a runner I had been yoyo-ing with the whole race passed by and gave me an encouraging pat on the back. FUCK. Hitting my low, I just wanted to come across the next aid station which seemed SO FAR AWAY. I told myself when I got there, I would somehow hit the “reset” button and leave for the final 25km feeling refreshed. Cottonwood Gulch finally appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. I finally caught one of the speedy ladies, but only because she stopped to console another female runner who looked very young, just bawling her eyes out. Sounded like she couldn’t eat or drink and she was just deep in the pain cave. I felt awful for her, I’ve been there before. I realized I could be worse, and trucked along.

74 – 90km –  “F my Effing Life”

I threw myself a pity party and asked the aid station crew for some tequila. They said no, they were part of a church group and they dont condone drinking tequila. Luckily, they were joking, but still no tequila. I did get a fresh sponge squeeze over my head, ate a bit, and got an encouraging “You are running TOUGH girl” from a male runner I had passed running up a climb about 20km earlier. I left Cottonwood Gulch, made another rage-poop stop before continuing along.

I mean, I felt like shit, but I knew I was going to finish, so I focused on just accepting that. I popped in my headphones and did my best to keep moving, eager to reach Table Mesa at 85km, where my headlamp awaited me, before the sunset. I accomplished this goal, and left the aid station with about 30 minutes to spare before turning on my lamp. I felt super tired and my will to try was diminishing, but when I did rally and decide to push, I was surprised to find my legs still had zip and would allow me to run up hill.

90km – Finish Line – “The faster you run, the faster its done!”

As my watch told me I hit around 90km, I merged paths with a runner in a gray shirt I had been yoyo-ing with the entire race. We finally chatted and I shared a few kilometers with Sandy from Toronto. We reasoned with each other how long we thought 10 kilometers might take and kept each other moving in the dark. I had to leave Sandy to take my zillionth cactus-shit. In stepping off the trail I accidentally shone my headlamp on another lady doing the same. Oops, lol. Once I made it back onto the trail I checked myself and realized that I still felt good, and that now was the time to run, and so I did. My confidence grew with each km I covered and I realized that I was actually going to finish this thing with strong legs. I was power-hiking way more than I needed to, just using it as a mental crutch and I decided to push myself to run harder. A lady I had passed 10km earlier named Tara absolutely ROCKETED by me around km 94 and she fueled me to find that same push within myself. I tried to spy the lights of the finish area in the dark of the night, but the finish chute still seemed to appear out of nowhere.

The distance on my Garmin would eventually reach 101.5km. As it hit 100 and I knew I was in the final stretch, I picked up speed and enjoyed those last few hundred metres, knowing that while I KNOW I could have done better, I did the best with what I had out there that day, and I learned a lot, crossing the line in 13 hours 41 minutes and 55 seconds. That course, with its 100km of winding desert trail was everything I dreamed of for months, and more. Before I even finished the race, I knew I would be back next year.

100km + – “Drinking Beers and Shedding tears”

The rest of the night was a celebration. Andy was at the finish line (having patiently waited almost 4 hours for me). I was so stoked (but honestly not surprised) to learn he had finished 9th overall with a time of 9:44 and change. We made quick work to GTFO of the finish line area to get back to the hotel, shower, and find the nearest source of beer and/or FOOOOOOD. After a good night’s sleep, we spent the next day procuring donuts, several servings of coffee and a light sampling of more desert trail to honor a 20 minute post-race “run” prescribed by my coach. It wasn’t pretty, but we did it.

And that about sums up the BCT100km 2018. Once home in Banff, I experienced probably the worst case of post-race blues I have ever endured. I spent much of the three days after the race crying in my bed (I also came down with a gnarly head flu/cold), trying to understand why I was so incredibly bummed. I feel better now, I felt much better within a few days. I chalk it up to the fact that I looked forward to that race, to that weekend for many many months. I focused on it, fantasized about it and I fell asleep for many nights imagining what it would feel like to cruise along that desert singletrack. No matter how hard I tried to soak it all in while it was happening, it all passed by too quickly. I just enjoyed it too much and I didn’t want it to be over. Ever since I took a road trip through Colorado and Utah in 2015, and last year through the Grand Canyon, that desert landscape, the red or orange canyons have my heart. I can’t imagine myself ever leaving the Rockies, its like I know I will never live among the arches, canyons or desert monuments. For some reason, I feel like I belong there, and I truly vow to make at least a long weekend trip down to Arizona or Utah every year that I can.

The event atmosphere was super fun. The route was marked impeccably well, and the course was a dream for me. It was so fun to get to know Andy more, faithful leader of our weekly Dirtbag Runners Bow Valley group, as well as meet Jamie, Chris and Hilary from the Calgary trail community. I particularly enjoyed that Andy was just as much (if not more) of a caffeine addict than I. It was SUCH a nice break to spend a few days in 20 deg C temps and to take a pause from the Canadian mountain winter shit-storm unfolding at home. Andy crushed it by finishing 9th overall, and a badass and a Canadian woman named Ailsa MacDonald placed 2nd OVERALL and obliterated the previous women’s course record.

I plan to return in 2019. My goal going in was 12 hours, and while I didn’t achieve it this year, I actually gained a lot of confidence that that time is totally within reach. My legs felt so freaking good, I could tell that the training Myke laid out for me set me up for a great day. And it was a relatively great day! Yup, I had the shits on the trail, but I didn’t let it ruin the day and I stayed (mostly) positive. Chatting with Myke post-race and looking at my heart rate (which plummeted and I had trouble actually keeping up the last 30km or so), I need to get way better at shoveling calories into my face during a race. I think if I can work out these kinks, I’m going to be able to improve a lot. Until about 8 months ago, I had never run this far before either, so I should probably take at least a few minutes to be proud and grateful that I checked a 100km finish off my list!