To understand the genesis of the DNF, we need to go back a year to April 2018 in Oldham, England. I had arrived in the UK to run the Oldham Way Ultra, a 40 mile race on footpaths in the Pennine hills. Race morning there was a blizzard, metre high snow drifts and no way the race could go on. It was cancelled.
The race got moved a month forward to May and was run without me in 2018. so in 2019 I decided to go back and use my deferred entry to run the race. This time it was 26 degrees, and a beautiful hot day and I ran the race. I followed that up with a week of sightseeing, then two weeks of a nasty bug that knocked me out and required codeine and antibiotics to get rid of it.
Race Day - May 12, 2019
The night before loaded on Codeine and antibiotics, and still not feeling great, I actually started to think there was no way I could finish 80 kilometres in 30 plus weather. I felt tired, had not sufficiently recovered from the British race 3 weeks earlier, and knew the antibiotics were going to cause problems. Add in the ridiculously hot weather and I wasn't feeling confident.
Race morning I was up at 4 am and really just wanted to turn over and go back to sleep. I got dressed for the run and we headed out to the start line at 5 am. While it was cool in the morning, I was feeling tired and really not ready for 80 km in what would become punishing heat.
At 5:45 am we all assembled in the parking lot at Patterson Lake Cabins for the pre-race briefing. James Varner, the Race Director provided the pre-race briefing. Then at 6 am we were off - approximately 250 runners heading down Patterson Rd towards Mount Patterson.
When I ran the 50 miler in 2015 the course started at Chickadee Trail Head, and we ran out to Thompson Ridge first, then an aid station called Homestead, a loop up to Sun Mountain Lodge and finally the big climb up Patterson at the end. This time the route was reversed, which meant we started with a big climb up Patterson, and it meant we'd be hauling our asses up the long slow climb to Thompson Ridge that was so much fun to run down in the opposite direction in 2015.
Start to Sun Lodge Aid Station - 10.6 km
As usual a road start means a too fast start. Once we hit the trail it became a conga line to climb Patterson. At first we were on decent single track trails and were able to hike the steep and run the level. Towards the top it was more of a made up route through the tufts of grass and wildflowers to the summit.
I felt I was struggling to maintain a normal pace for me, with my heart rate higher than it should have been for the effort. I was gradually falling behind as runners passed me as we climbed. Then Dave Scott came up, mentioned how shitty I looked and then passed me. I imagined I didn't look too good, and probably a bit white and my breathing pretty laboured. I guess it's not really a good idea to run 80 km with a chest cold and acute bronchitis. I was sucking air as we climbed but I pushed myself.
Once over the summit, with its gorgeous views over the North Cascade Mountains, we began the long down hill practically back to the start area. I was able to regain my breath and the down hill felt pretty good, but I was holding back and being cautious on the steep trails. On the climb up I was convinced i was going to DNF at the lodge, but now I was feeling better and decided I would go at least to Chickadee Aid Station.
Once down, we had some beautiful and fairly level single track before the steep but relatively short climb up to Sun Mountain Lodge. I actually didn't feel too bad climbing this, but by now I had found my own pace and wasn't feeling pushed by people behind me. I made it to Sun Lodge Aid Station 30 minutes ahead of the cutoff.
Sun Lodge to Chickadee Aid Station - 18 km
Doris Leong was volunteering at the aid station. So nice to see familiar faces. She told me that Dave and Charlene and Karen were only 5 to 10 minutes ahead of me. That made me feel better. I loaded up on Tailwind, drank some Coca Cola and then set off towards Chickadee.
This section of single track is quite beautiful through the sunflower meadows. Running along here I leaned into a corner and ended up running into a pretty hard branch that didn't give, but brought me to a standstill. It knocked the wind out of me. I recovered, swore at the branch and continued on. At the bottom of the hill the trail was a super winding single track that felt like an amusement park dark ride through the forest. I could see runners to my right but I had to wind my way around to the left before getting there.
Then the cruelest part of the course - actually swinging by and seeing Chickadee Aid Station on my right, but the course forced us to do a left turn, and then climb a mountain, before switching back down and heading back to the aid station. Again I was feeling tired and slow and at times I just wanted to lie down next to the trail and have a nap for an hour, or half the day.
Finally I arrived at Chickadee Aid Station, with good friends Lisa Large (Aid Station Captain), Andrew Barclay and Kathy MacRae who were also volunteering cheering me in. I knew I would not be able to drop out of the race here. Those three would have refused to let me and would likely have pushed me out of the aid station. I was still 30 minutes ahead of cutoff, so I wasn't losing any time.
Andrew asked if I had the Sun Mountain tattoo. I must have looked confused, so he explained, a wound on my left arm from hitting the tree branch on the mountain. I showed him, and I was surprised at how much damage that branch had done. It had drawn blood and was already bruising nicely. Andrew said that about 1 in 5 runners coming into the Aid Station had similar injuries from the same branch. I understand the Race Director went out and cut the branch off before the 50 km and 25 km races the next weekend.
Chickadee to Thompson Aid Station - 30 km
I filled up with Tailwind and coca cola and set-off on the gravel road, before joining the single track and a big switch-back climb. I fell in with another runner here and we paced each other up the climb. This was a long slow up hill, so I ended up running and walking it. I was actually not feeling too bad here. We had some shade in the trees, but the day was warming up. We were almost at the top and could see other runners on a double track, but the course turned down hill and followed a mountain bike single track a long way back down. Then we ended up on double track and a long climb up to the Thompson Ridge service road.
Amazingly I passed people on this climb. I just kept a steady pace as I climbed, though I did stop in a shaded section, lay against the bank and closed my eyes for a couple of minutes. For this I blame the codeine still in my system - it felt nice to close my eyes. Some runners I'd passed, passed me as I rested. I was soon underway and passed them a a second time. I arrived Thompson Aid Station one hour ahead of cutoff.
Thompson to Meadowlark Aid Station - 45 km
Leaving Thompson I was fine on the down hill but as we progressed on the single track I noticed I was slowing down. I was having trouble running any length and ended up hiking big sections. The day was heating up and I was consuming a lot more water. I had started taking salt tabs regularly as I knew I was sweating out a lot of salt. My mouth was dry and hard to create saliva, likely dehydration from the heat but also the infection I was fighting. By now I could not imagine going through East Coulee and over the exposed mountains down there in the hottest part of the day.
I spent a lot of time thinking it through. What was the best thing, the smart thing to do? Did I badly want this race? No. I didn't. Was I digging myself into a big training hole that would be hard to get out of? Very likely if I kept going. With Fat Dog 120 only 12 weeks away I could not afford a long recovery and rest to dig myself out of over doing it. I had run my 40 mile race three weeks ago. In hindsight it was stupid of me to expect to do a 50 mile race three weeks later. Under normal conditions (cooler weather and not fighting an infection) it would likely be fine to do. But my UK race was also hot and took a lot out of me.
As I hiked the double track towards Meadowlark, I had decided I would drop out at Meadowlark.
Meadowlark Aid Station - DNF
I arrived Meadowlark Aid Station 40 minutes ahead of the cut off. The aid station was in a beautiful location, perched on top of the mountain with a view right over Patterson Lake and Patterson Mountain to the snow capped North Cascade Mountains beyond. I sat on a bench under the tent, enjoyed the view over the valley and debated what to do. Maybe I should keep going to East Coulee? I only had another 35 km to go to the finish. I could do it. Just keep moving forward and a reasonable pace - half walk, half run. I felt indecisive, and I questioned why was that? Normally there would be no question; I would just keep going until I finish or miss a cut off, and I would push not to miss a cutoff or be far enough ahead to not worry about them.
After 10 minutes I had convinced myself to keep going. I set off but as I left the aid station, the heat hit me and I looked at the trail stretching out ahead of me and thought "what am I doing?". And then I realized I was done. My frame of mind was defeating any physical effort to move forward and finish. I was mentally checked out of the race. That is definitely a first for me. In most races I hit low, most runners, if not all ultra runners do at some point. But even then, the mental state has been what do I need to do to get out of this low, pick myself up and move forward. I walked back to Meadowlark Aid Station and told told the timer I was dropping out. They offered me a ride to the finish area but I declined and said I was happy to walk back.
As I walked I thought about my decision. It was a really hard decision to make and part of me was hoping to miss a cut off so I would be pulled from the race. Again, a statement of my mental state during the race. The reality is my mind was not in it. I didn't want it bad enough and in some ways I was sabotaging my race by thinking I could not do this. Deep down I knew I was not in the best shape with the sickness, antibiotics, lack of recovery from the previous race, and maybe deep down I know the best thing was to drop and save it for another day.
On this race there were several times I was feeling emotional. No reason, I just felt I needed to cry. That is unusual for me and another sign I listened too, eventually. I'll never know if I really made the right decision, or if I would have been fine if I kept going and made up my mind to finish - reset the mental state. So like any race, hindsight is always good for second thoughts, and questioning decision. Every race I have these thoughts afterwards. What if I ran a bit more instead of walking? So easy in hindsight to say I should have done this or that. The reality is I made the choices I did in the moment. The choices I make were a reflection of how I was feeling and what I felt I was capable of at that time in the race. So for that I have to trust my judgement and accept that I made the right decision for me at that time. Of course now sitting at home I'm convinced I could have and should have finished. But that is based on how I'm feeling now, not how I felt at the time.
Part of me still wishes I'd pushed on and finished, but deep down I think I know that pulling out of the race was for the best.
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| End of my racing - walking back to the Finish/Start area after dropping at Meadlowlark Aid Station. View of Patterson Mountain which we climbed at the beginning of the race several hours earlier and almost 30 degrees cooler in the day. |
I enjoyed my walk back to the finish area. When I got to the turn for East Coulee I was somewhat sad I wasn't going that way. I cheered on the lead racers as they headed to the finish line. Jame Varner was great and said I at least had a good reason to DNF. I also enjoyed watching Avery, Charlene, Karen, Dave (who was looking too good after running 80 km) and Marcus all cross the finish line.
While I didn't finish, I want to thank the race organizers and all the volunteers for such a well organised race. I will be back and will complete this race. East Coulee I will see you next time. And congratulations to Karen Laberee, Charlene Waldner, Dave Scott, Avery Gottfried and Markus Pirker for finishing. And thank you to Lisa Large, Kathy MacRae, Andrew Barlcay and Doris Leong for volunteering and pushing us out of the aid stations.
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