‘Twas the night before Sinister and all through the house…………the sound of rain and wind pounded down on the roof, emulating a full-on weather apocalypse.
It was forecast to pour for a short time overnight, but when I checked my phone and saw that it was 4:48am (12 minutes before my alarm was set to go off, and just over 2 hours before Sinister 7) I wondered what kind of day we would be in for. Tyler was sleeping across the room. When he woke up a few minutes later, we exchanged a few “what the actual FUCK”s in response to the veritable shitstorm unfolding outside. The next 45 minutes played out as a blur of gear-assembling, coffee-making, Vitargo-blending and anti-chafe applying madness as Tyler, Theo, Karl, Alex, Adrien, Svenja and I bustled around Karl’s parents’ cabin, piled into our cars and headed towards the start line of the 2018 Sinister 7 100 miler.
As we drove to the start line in Blairmore, as if on cue, the rain stopped, the sun beamed and a few rainbows even made an appearance, calming my nerves as I shoved my typical Timmie’s bagel and donut into my face. I was so much less terrified than last year, and I was REALLY excited for how many of my friends I was about to share the next up-to-30 hours with, running the race, or as part of what would be the most epic crew that ever existed. It was hard to keep track of how many of us from the Bow Valley there were floating around. Saira, Andy, Karl, Alex, Arnaud, Gavin, Svenja and Mark were all on deck to support and crew at the aid stations. Gary, Theo and Tyler were staring their first 100 milers in the face. Adrien was not shy about his ambitions to run competitively, targeting a win and a course record. Kendra was out and about running as part of a relay team. I knew so many other runners completing relay legs or running the whole damn thing, or manning one or multiple aid stations. As far as I was concerned, this thing was going to be a damn party, something to enjoy rather than suffer through (though there would absolutely be suffering).
I spent a lot of time leading up to the race thinking about what I wanted out of it, what it would mean to me this year to be successful. While finishing is always the A goal, I knew I wanted more than that, so my goal was pretty simple: be faster than last year. And also don’t die. I figured unless things went to complete shit, running a faster time should happen pretty naturally. A thought did linger in the back of my head that it would be pretty cool to come in under 24 hours. A few times leading up to the race I started trying to project some target splits or “what if” scenarios to give myself an idea of what time to aim for but as I had sat there, staring at my loser excel spreadsheet, I just said fuck it: what was the point of this? Just run it. I opted not to memorize my splits from last year, but a few benchmark times stood out in my memory from 2017, and these would give me a sense of how I was doing (how long it took to finish Leg 3, the halfway point, 100km, etc.).
Arbitrarily, or even methodically picking a time goal just hasn’t really worked all that well for me. I appreciate that it can be totally motivating for some people, but since I’ve let go of trying to back-calculate what I think is an appropriate finish time into what pace I should be going, I’ve enjoyed and succeeded at racing much, much more. I knew how I needed to feel and the effort level I needed to put out, and I believed that if I did that, I would get the best out of myself. I was excited to see what that was.
We arrived at the start-area, endured the epic portapotty line and slid into the starting chute with minutes to spare. The last few moments before go-time unfolded in a blur of pre-race photos, hugs and high fives as I surveyed the many familiar faces around me, coming together for this crazy race. Theo and I started together, and I made note this year to dart ahead of the crowd and seed ourselves towards the front for the first few kilometres of single track, which still had us moving at barely-running pace until the trail opened up. The 18km of Leg 1 were extremely chill, as they should be, as the runnable stretch of gravel, paved and fire road that make up this leg unfolded quickly.
I lost Theo as he strayed behind for a pee break, and as the trail became more rolling and climby towards the end of the leg, I forced myself to slow down and hike, cruising into the aid station in 1:52. My Leg 1 split was one of the few that I remembered from 2017, and I awarded a self-five to me for coming in 14 minutes faster than last year. Good start. I tried to get in and out within a minute or two, just long enough to say hi to the crew and run into Leon. LEON! We gave each other a huge hug (side story: you may remember Leon as the dude I found at the beginning of the second Finlayson Arm 100km lap last September, on his way back to the start to drop. He had fallen asleep on a bench and we ended up running ~ 25km together before I dropped, and Leon was able to finish. During that time, I had spoken highly of Sinister 7 and was stoked to see that Leon had decided to take the plunge this year). ANYWAYS. Off on Leg 2 I went.
I think Leg 2 is my second favorite. It’s early enough in the race that you feel like you want to run everything, but it’s still time to make the conscious effort to just take it easy. So I puttered up the fire road through the burn, enjoying sweeping views of the valley dotted with wildflowers. I ran a lot but didn’t feel guilty bringing myself down to a hike often, reminding myself to keep it chill. Before I knew it I was running through the last meadow, leading me into the transition area before I would head out for leg 3. Now 30 something km in, I noticed that my legs were a lot more sore than I thought they should be this early on. I mean, I was fine, energy was good, I felt like I could go forever, but they felt sore considering how easy I had been going, and that 30ish km is normally NBD. I rolled into TA2/3 for the first time excited to see our crew again, and they did not disappoint.
SO MANY FRIENDS. I heard Alex first, cheerng like a boss from the spot where our crew had set up camp as I came in. Karl proudly offered me one of the many banana-peanut-butter taco thingies he had prepared, and I felt like a bitch having to turn those bad boys down. During an ultra, when someone offers you food, I feel like it’s a pretty immediate “FUCK YES” or “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD NO” response. Unfortunately, on this day, at this time, the thought of banana and peanut butter generated the latter response. The appetite of an ultra-runner is unpredictable, confusing and disturbing at times, resulting in the consumption of such things as pizza buns off the floor, salted oreos and maple syrup sandwiches. I bet one day I’ll be mid ultra and think to myself, “I wish I had one of Karl’s PB Banana tacos right now”. TOO LITTLE TO LATE LIZ. Anyways, Karl helped to shove ice in my pack and buff. Saira and the rest of the crew handed off the baggie of gels I had portioned for Leg 3 and pumped me full of energy and feel-good vibes. It sounded like Tyler and Gary were just cruising ahead, and I saw Theo come into the aid station just as I was leaving.
Going into the race, I had asked the crew not to tell me what place I was in. I thought it might cause me to run faster, or run scared if I felt like I had something to lose. I really wanted to focus on just doing my thing, paying attention to how I felt and my effort level, and avoid chasing or running from anyone else. Before I set out for Leg 3, both Andy and Arnaud asked me if I wanted to know what place I was in. I stuck to my gut and declined, but I was assured that I was doing well, so I was feeling positive.
Most know that Leg 3 is the probably the most feared leg of Sinister 7, likely tied with Leg 6. It depends what scares you more:
- withering in the heat of a long, but more gradual, exposed climb on Leg 3 in the middle of the day
or
- crawling, hands and knees up steep single track in the middle of the night on Leg 6 and enduring what feels like an endless descent on tired quads, finishing with an endless field of undulating ditches that you must plunge down into and pull yourself back out of.
Maybe you can guess what my opinion is.
Last year I crashed and burned in the middle of Leg 3. I figured I could avoid that this year by taking in more calories and pre-emptively making a withdrawal from Liz’s Fun Pharmacy: a baggie of salt, caffeine, gravol, pepto bismal, Tylenol and iron tablets I had stuffed in my pack. As I set out for Leg 3 I prescribed myself a salt, caffeine and pepto tablet and braced myself for a low. Knowing what to expect, was a huge advantage this time around. That mixed with the fact that while it was hot, and my growing hate for the sun had returned, Leg 3 didn’t feel as difficult this year. The leg passed by without issue, though Leo (unknowingly) shit on my “don’t find out what place you’re in” plan at one of the check points, encouragingly telling me that I was second lady, with Arden leading at a strong pace. It definitely gave me a boost, and I was surprised, but other than that I didn’t let it phase me and just kept doing ma thing.
I finished Leg 3 just after 3pm, which made me realize I was already 2 hours ahead of my pace last year, and in much better condition. I was hot and looking forward to the evening, but I was relatively unscathed, feeling how one would expect with ~65km under my belt. The crew did yet another fantastic job of stuffing my hat and sleeves with ice and making sure I had my poles and fuel for Leg 4. Andy even offered up a calf massage while I was easily persuaded to take a few swigs of beer. I triple fisted my beer with watermelon and a pizza bun, which I gracefully ate by biting into the sauciest, cheesiest middle part, and later retrieving the crusts off of the ground for seconds.
Last year I made certain that I left for Leg 4 with my headlamp. This year, I again insisted I should take it with me just in case. Alex laughed at me and said: “Dude…its 3pm, it’s not getting dark for 7 hours and if you aren’t done Leg 4 by then, we’ll be sending out a search party”.
Not to be a negative Nancy, but I hate Leg 4. I actually like the climbing part of it, but the descent makes me very, very angry. The climb is long but offers many runnable sections, it’s not steep or technical, it just needs to be done. But once you crest the top, you know you’re in for a long, steep, technical, dusty descent. The kind of perpetual downhill which I would normally find fun on fresh legs, but that pisses me right off 80+km in. The downhill wasn’t quite as bad as I remembered and I was able to navigate it okay with my poles in hand and legs holding up, but I still wished every switchback was the last. I realized that the whole race up until this point, I had found myself looking forward to the climbs, and simply enduring the descents, which is not typical Liz-style. Leg 4 was rather lonely, except for a nice chat with Chris Aubrey as he ran by me on the descent, a fellow soloist (Andrew) that I leap frogged for a while, and some non-racing runner who kindly warned me about a cow “kind of going crazy” at one point, off in one of the fields we ran by.
As my watch hit 80km, I celebrated the half w
ay point of the race with a few exciting revelations. I clocked in at 10:51, now almost three hours ahead of last year’s pace, and setting a new 50 mile PR for myself. The fastest 50 miles I had run was at Squamish last year, and I was pretty sure I had covered more elevation, still with plenty of gas in the tank. I got a wave of satisfaction that I was racing exactly as I needed to, and as a result, this really was a celebration of all of the training and work I’ve put in to get here. ANOTHER SELF FIVE.
Soon enough, Leg 4 came to an end and I was at TA4, realizing how much I was looking forward to seeing the crew. I had to push thoughts of the 70km looking in front of me away and resolve myself to stay happy. I heard that Arden was having a rough go and had left behind a few good tears and pukes when she had passed through the aid station, which reminded me of my first Sinister 7 experience the year before. This time around, I was able to stay really positive through the race. I had let out some good sobs in 2017, and at the Finlayson Arm 100km last year, but I don’t think it did me any good. I remember being so overwhelmed at how bad I felt at times, with so far to go, and I needed to cry. But this year, I had the experience of knowing how horrible you can feel, but that it almost always gets better again, so it didn’t freak me out as much. I wasn’t on a mission to catch Arden, but I thought that if I kept moving this well and staying positive, that it was possible, so I need to try my best. I thought how it would be really weird to find myself winning a 100 mile race, but was careful to not think too much about it. There was a LONG way to go.
I scarfed down ramen and coke, exchanged my poles for my headlamp, and Saira and Andy tended to my gnarly-ass feet. I left for Leg 5 sometime between 7 and 8pm, relieved to be starting my favourite leg. I don’t really know why it’s my favourite, it’s perhaps the least scenic of the course. However, you find yourself far enough in to the race that you realize you are going to finish this thing, and it’s a really nice break after the gnarly descent of Leg 4. Plus it was finally nice and cool. I completed most of Leg 5 in the dark last year, but as I moved through it this time, I really enjoyed actually being able to, you know, see where I was going. Below are 2 photos from the same place near the start of Leg 5, courtesy of Raven Eye Photography. The left photo is from 2017, and the right is from 2018.
I bonked a little at the start of the leg and allowed myself to reset with at the first check point where I sat down, closed my eyes, and turned my brain off for 45 seconds. I knew I was in a temporary low, so I decided I would settle in to a powerhike for 20 minutes straight and make sure I was getting calories in. I had been really good the entire race at taking in a gel every 30-45 minutes, and finishing a 500ml flask with Vitargo each leg, and I could feel how well it was sustaining me. I ate almost no solid food the whole race, with a few rogue oreos, pizza bun bites and ramen slurps at aid stations. I feared that my collection of endurance tap, rekarb, Brix and Xact maple bars would leave me with an eternal hatred for maple, but I was still guzzling that shit down. With a few Smores-flavored gu’s thrown in for variety and another trip to Liz’s Pharmacy for good measure, I was trucking along.
Leg 5 in the dark this year would have been shit, so kudos to those that endured it. There were quite a lot of mud pits/puddles spanning the entire trail, banked by slippery patches of mud. I was able to go around them all but this sometimes required ninja-like maneuvers, bending my body into the shape of a banana and latching on to branches and bushes for balance. My “planned powerhike” lasted all of 5 minutes and I wanted to run again, and run I did. The 100km mark hit and I self-fived again, 13 hours and 45 minutes had elapsed, just 5 minutes more than my Black Canyon 100km finish time, and way more elevation and technical terrain behind me. It’s amazing what you can do when you aren’t perpetually shitting behind cacti. My desire to finish under 24 hours burned brighter and seemed more than possible. I had 10 hours and 15 minutes to cover 61km if I wanted that sub 24 hour finish, which seemed totally doable, even with some leeway for shit-hitting-the-fan. I found myself hardly walking or hiking the rest of Leg 5 and I continued to gain more wiggle room to come in under 24 hours. A few times I found myself running alongside male relay runners and enjoyed their reaction when they saw my bib and realized I was a soloist. I love long distances for that, seeing how possible it is for women runners to close the gap on performance differences between men.
As I crossed onto the last 7km finishing off Leg 5, I was greeted with Leo and co’s Rave Station. The sun had almost set and a lighting truss flickered technicolor lights as electronic music blasted into the almost-night. I could have had my pick of liquor had I been so inclined, and Leo’s “HEY GIRLLLLLLLL – you made it before sunset this year!” as I cruised through put a smile on my face. I was feeling so good I jogged up the hill leaving the check point, and that’s when I noticed some pain in my left quad. It came on pretty abruptly, it was localized near the top front of my quad and felt like a big, deep, knot. It was unnoticeable on the flat and uphill sections for the rest of Leg 5, but every time the trail descended steeply I felt the discomfort which was slowly progressing to pain. I was glad the next time I came through this stretch, I would have poles.
I think I rolled in to TA5/6 around 11pm. It was full on dark now, and I got flashbacks from the year before as my brother greeted me when I came in with huge bear hug and told me how proud of me I was. He had seen the state I was in last year and it meant a lot that he was there to see me now. After being briefly devastated to learn that there were no boiled potatoes (THEY WERE ON THE FOOD LIST DAMNIT), I downed some more ramen and the crew went to work to get me turned around and back out on to Leg 6. I needed layers. I needed a backup headlamp. I needed my poles. I needed to leave for Leg 6 and get it over with. I learned that Theo had dropped just before arriving at T4. I was sad because I didn’t want Theo to be sad, but I was proud of how far he had made it. I got updates that Gary and Tyler were trucking along nicely, and that Arden was just under an hour ahead of me. I stared blankly as I spooned ramen in to my mouth and said aloud that I was going to come in under 23 hours, I believed I could do it. But I did I did not know how hard Leg 6 was about to bitchslap me in the face.
I started Leg 6 patiently, but the next 6 hours would become a struggle. I moved along “quickly” (read: sub 9min km uphill pace), alternating running and power hiking to the first check point. I ran into Michael and shared a few minutes with him chatting, but I started to drift behind as the wheels started to fall off. My quad was starting to bother me more and more, even on the flats and climbs. My FEET were on fire, the entire ball of each foot became a giant hot spot and I stopped to try and adjust my socks or tighten my shoes a few times. I mean, all the normal shit that comes with running a hundred miler. The notorious 1400m climb of Leg 6 was as steep and technical as I remembered, with the added bonus of doing it in the complete dark and a nice slick coating of mud. I found it hard to power up the climb in the dark, unable to look up as the sun slowly rose like last year and get a sense for when the climb would end. I had brought my windbreaker, but stupidly forgotten gloves, so when I finally crested the climb and began “running” along the exposed ridge before descending the many metres I had just climbed, I seriously questioned my fucking sanity and choice to be out here for the first time of the race.
The wind was raging, my quad hurt too much for me to move quickly enough to keep myself warm and I tried to curl my fingers up around my poles within the sleeves of my windbreaker. I stopped eating and drinking for about an hour because I was too cold to fumble around in my pack. My watch was back at the aid station charging and while I was running strava on my phone, it was totally glitching out and I had lost my reference point for how far, or how much time I had to go on this FUCKING leg. I winced as I stumbled down the descent and finally made it back to the rolling 4×4 road which ended the sustained plunge, but by then the damage was done. My quad was fucked up. I got my bearings at the second checkpoint on Leg 6, which told me I had about 25km left in the race. I tried to run, but it hurt so badly and only made me move marginally faster than a powerwalk, so I accepted that that’s what I would have to do. It was manageable on the flats and climbs, albeit extremely tedious, but any descending made me cringe. I came to realize that 23 hours was gone, and sub 24 would probably be a stretch, but I knew that even walking it in, I would still have greatly improved last year’s time. Perhaps 3rd place would catch me, maybe 4th, 5th and 6th too, but no one could take away how far I had come since last year.
Then my headlamp died and when I threw on the backup headlamp, it seemed to be on its way out too. Thank GOD for the relay runner who ran by and offered up his second headlamp to me. He told me to keep it and not worry about getting it back to him since it was a $20 Canadian Tire headlamp (which seemed to trump the two “higher performance” headlamps that had already failed me). Back at Leo’s Rave Station, I made a last ditch effort to work out the “knot” in my quad with one of those roller torture device thingies, but it just made it worse. I had a gut feeling that I had injured myself, this was way more than the general feeling of shot quads, and the most pain I’ve been in during a race. I remember feeling like Leg 6 had won this year as it finally came to an end, but looking back, I still managed to finish it 15+ minutes faster than last year.
Shortly after 5am, SO grateful for one last boost from the crew at TA5/6, I changed into my Hello Kitty socks and set out to finish this bitch. The Hello Kitty socks are a part of my race gear if I’m ever having a bad time and need to cheer-the-fuck up, so on they went. I had an hour and 40 minutes to complete the final 10.9km and come in under 24 hours. I knew it wasn’t going to happen with my current hobble and the 10-15 minute km’s I was putting down, but I vowed to still get it done as fast as I could. I welcomed the climb that started off the first leg. I called my mom as I hiked, pleased to inform her that I had not been attacked by a bear during the night, which I knew was a legit fear for her. It wasn’t long before I caught up with Tyler who matched my pole-dependent hobble with a calf injury. We patiently shuffled it out for the remaining kms, looking like a couple of hot messes.
Similar to my hatred for Leg 4, I HATE Leg 7. We were now throwing down 15-20 minutes km’s just trying to move forward and I was at least able to laugh as I observed Tyler discovering the hell that is Leg 7 when you’re running as a soloist. “Why can’t this be Sinister 6?” Tyler asked, with just the right amount of sass. That was definitely the fucking funniest thing I had heard since the race started and I was glad he was there. Any time the trail flattened out I tried to run but I couldn’t engage my quad, it completely buckled. I tried to conjure up a way to use my poles as crutches and do a cool “three pronged” hop, but that also didn’t pann out. After 2 hours and 30 odd minutes, and countless looks behind me fearing another female soloist would overtake me in the final few km’s, I reached the parking lot of the finish line and ignored the pain that came from running it in, with all of our friends and crew there, and the biggest smile on my face.
I brought it in after 24 hours and 40 minutes, almost 4 hours faster than last year. I’m so proud of how I ran the race. A lot of people have asked what I think I could have done if I didn’t have the quad issue. I think 23 hours was within my reach and that makes me really excited. There are no “if only’s” in a hundred miler, your time is the time you did and if you try and think of what your time would be if “xxxxx” issue didn’t come up well then, it wouldn’t have been a hundred miler. While I’m super stoked to be able to say I made it onto the podium in a 100 mile race, it doesn’t mean as much to me as how much I was able to improve. Placement in a race is largely dependent on who else shows up. My only disappointment is that I really imagined myself being able to run and push myself in Leg 7, but that’s just the way she goes!
Being out there for 24 hours felt SO much easier mentally than it did to know I would be out there 28-30 hours last year. The 30+ hour finishers are the most hardcore out there in my opinion. Having run the race before really helped. Choosing to be happy the whole time also really helped. Having the group of friends that we did choose to come and support us, without a doubt, made this day what it was and if I run this race again without that support, I would plan for things to go a lot less smoothly. Thank you so much to Saira, Andy, Karl, Alex, Arnaud, Gavin, Marc, Matt, Lindsey for putting us first for 24 hours, it made a world of difference. I’m really grateful for everything Myke at Coastline Endurance has taught me this year, not only has he gotten me in great shape but he contributes a lot to the positive attitude I am learning to embrace during ultras.
Big props to Theo for leaving it all out there and running further than he ever has. Way to go to Gary for a strong performance on his first hundo, and 10000 insanity points goes to Tyler who ran this as his first race and brought it home to finish 100 miles after a pretty big wrong turn during Leg 4. Congrats to Arden who won her first 100 mile race and pushed through when things got tough! Super stoked for James, Joedy and Jayden Dalke for absolutely slaying the course as a 3 person relay team and coming close to a first place finish. Way to go Kendra and Kayla for crushing your relay legs! Thank you to all of the people that tracked us while we ran and sent us messages before, during, and after to keep us going. A big FUCK YES to Mandi and Adria who worked their asses off to come back for Sinister 7 Solo revenge this year and got it. These girls worked hard, pulling a few overnight psychopath training runs. I’m excited to see what they get up to as they complete the Sinister Triple this summer.
In the end my quad was injured, and by the time I made it to physio a few days after the race, they confirmed a partial/grade 2 tear in the muscle. I completely rested it the week and it feels almost completely healed! If that had come on earlier in the race, I definitely think I would have dropped out, as I don’t think I would have had the patience to walk it in much further, and the pain was pretty bad. Feeling the initial onset and then covering another 45km probably made it much worse than it had to be too.
Here are another few photos I stole from Andy:
And here’s a link to an awesome video by Arnaud Cote Boisvert, with footage he captured during the day himself, featuring many cool moments for a bunch of different runners:
This one time I went running 