Close Encounter of the Cougar Kind

So there I was – hauling ass down the Puntledge Plunge after a post-work trail climb in Forbidden Plateau. The late afternoon light was fading and I had been motivated to leave work and make the most of it. A grueling climb on these tired, out-of-shape legs was exactly what I needed. As I descended, it was just dark enough in the forest to warrant my waistbelt light but it wasn’t yet dark. Pale purple sky was slowly giving away to starlit night.

Up ahead, a slight movement caught my eye. Was that a deer? No, the shape was all wrong. COUGAR! I froze in place and tried to confirm my suspicions. There was a softness, a roundness to this animal that didn’t quite match my regular forest creature encounters. A swish of the tail was enough to make me snap into fight or flight mode. This big cat had turned its head to look at me. No doubt now.

My mind started churning with the DOs and DON’Ts with cougars.

• Don’t look in its eyes.
• Back away slowly.
• Hold your arms up so you look large.

I realized then that my waistbelt light was on, perhaps having the effect of eye contact. I fumbled to switch it off and began my slow retreat. I was trying to mentally map out the trail system behind me and figure out if there was another way back to the trailhead. I had no extra gear with me – to hold up or to wear – and soon I would be really cold as the sub-zero temperatures took hold.

Not my photo. The last thing on my mind was documentation.

As my light extinguished, the cougar started – a slight jump of surprise – and it bolted off the trail. I waited. I listened. I tried to keep my mind from reeling. What to do now? I waited some more.

After three or four minutes, I decided to continue in the direction I had originally been going. The cougar had left in a hurry and there was no other way back to my car. I decided that I may have a short window of opportunity to get past the area while it was still spooked. I remembered that I had my (tiny) vial of dog spray in my waistbelt and gave it a test spray (more of a dribble really), thinking that it would really be no match for claws and jaws in this situation.

This is where I really entered unknown territory. Should I pass by quietly? Should I make a lot of noise as if a bear is around? I decided to yell and call out and sing. I figured that it knew exactly where I was so I may as well vocally expel some of my terror.

I slowly made my way to the point where it had been standing – about 40 meters – and I studied the muck for footprints, wondering how large a beast I had seen. I couldn’t find its tracks and I didn’t want to linger. I sauntered along, making sure that my vocalizations didn’t sound like a wounded animal (so much for my singing skills).

At some point, I decided that I needed to move more quickly as I was getting chilled and starting to shiver. It seems like a bad idea now but I began to run. I had about 4 km left to get back to the parking lot and darkness was rolling in now. You can only imagine how often I did a shoulder check as I made my way back. I do wonder what the longer term impact of this cougar sighting will be on my solo running pursuits.

This is my second cougar sighting, both having happened when I was alone on forest trails. In both encounters, I have come up behind the cougar, seeing it before it saw me. I know that cougars are all around these forests and there are often sightings. I am certain that I have been seen and have spooked cougars and bears countless times, unbeknownst to me. I hope that others realize that cougars will retreat if they can and if they are well-fed. I count myself privileged, not just because I am alive to tell the tale, but also because I got to witness the majesty of our own King of the Forest up close in its own territory.

Needed Time Off

I have cleared the schedule, hung up the shoes and found a new pastime. 2019 will be remembered as the year that ultras went on the back burner.

Last spring and summer, my running struggled along as I battled twinges and tweaks and resulting low motivation. My achilles injury forced me to forgo a bunch of races and it was really difficult to get the proper training in for my ‘A race’ of the season, the Mighty Quail 100 km. In the end, I got it done but I lost something along the way – the desire to push through.

For me, running long distances requires strong focus on a specific end point – usually a certain finish line – and that focus will pull me through the long hours of training. I really love being out in the forest, deep in the lesser known trails, reminding myself to eat and drink and watch my footing as I go. There is a purity and ease as I clock the kms but that ultimate race goal is truly what gets me out the door.

I have always been one to take time off from running once daylight savings ends but, last fall, I took it to the level of hibernation. I had no desire to run in the snow or rain, nor solo or with the group. Instead I read, became a homebody and allowed myself to get soft around the edges and it has been fabulous. I got a new-to-me mountain bike and have been learning to rip up the trails (a little). I ride purely for fun and usually in a group. There is no goal except perhaps to end the ride without any new bruises.

Last night, B and I were talking about his upcoming Tor de Glaciers race – a 450 km loop of the Italian alps in Sept 2019 – and reminiscing about our Tor de Geants race five years ago. I found myself wishing aloud (again) that I could have a re-do of that event. I believe I could have done it better. B was quick to suggest a number of other 100 mile and 200 mile races which would allow me to prove myself to myself.

As I scrolled through event pages, looking for an ultra race that would fit in my 2020 fixed summer holiday, I had to laugh at myself. Here I was, searching for that goal race, ready to click the ‘register’ button, despite the fact that I haven’t laced up my running shoes for weeks. But perhaps this summer of rest and relaxation has worked its magic. I knew I needed some time off – not to consider quitting for good but simply to come back with a thirst for that next finish line.

 

 

And now … The Truth.

Mighty Quail 100 km race report – Take 2

I re-read my last post and was struck by the vanilla of it all. Was that really how my day unfolded? Although all of that race report is true, I think I failed to capture my moods, my tenacity or my stubbornness. I made it seem as if my injury and my lack of training were immaterial in the end and that a hundred kilometers is an easily attainable goal. If this blog is supposed to be a personal journal of my experience running, then I missed the mark and cheated myself in the end. So here is a more truthful rendition of the race:

I arrived at the start line with a lofty finish time goal of 14hr 30min. This was arbitrary but somewhat based on the winning time of last year’s first female. I didn’t have any grandiose ideas of winning, since I knew that the bar would be lifted ever higher during the first years of a race, but I thought the time could be attainable. I had pored over the inaugural year results and lurked through strangers’ Strava race profiles, even going so far as to make a cheat sheet of times to meet along the way, which I carried with me on race day.

In a way, this mental game doesn’t amount to much since I am able to abandon lofty time goals mid-race and re-focus on simply finishing alive and upright (as in TdG). I also had a look through some other racers’ UltraSignup results which is where the depth of experience among this cohort came to light but I knew none of the women entrants. I had a good laugh at my UltraSignup ‘Target Finish Time’ since I was targeted to finish in 18hr 54min, almost an hour over the race time limit. Thanks for the confidence boost, UltraSignup!

The first 30 km played out just as I wrote before. I was alone for hours, I focussed on climbing strong, I worried about Bruce’s ankle roll, I ate and I drank like clockwork and I wondered if our recent 500 km walk through Sweden would hinder or help me on this course. I also felt disappointed that the course had taken us up and over the eastern foothills and into a valley hidden from the Okanagan lake views. Beautiful views are a hugely motivating factor in my running and it looked like we would not get the wide-open views pictured on the website.

After making the high point of the day (33 km), I was finally near other runners again. “Stealthy Black” was standing at the side of the trail at one point, looking surprised to see a bunch of us pass her. In no time, we were all filling up at the 38 km water drop and we proceeded down a trail which I’ll remember as Bear Sh1t Alley. Between the very fresh, steamy (!) piles of bear poop were very fresh, mucky cow pies. It was sort of like an obstacle course for a few kilometers. Perhaps “Bear Bell” guy had the right idea after all.

Once we hit the logging road, we had 6 km of road running before aid station #2. This is where my race began. I could see runners far ahead and I worked hard to reel each of them in. I set my sights on the “Circus Gals”, two brightly-dressed women who looked to be close to my age, and pushed hard to pass them. They did not relent easily and they quickly shifted gears into chase mode after I passed. I could hear breathing nearby after and turned to see “Stealthy Black” making a strong push to pass me. All of this chick-jostling told me that I was probably among the female contenders (within our tiny field of 11!)

Upon arriving at 47 km (AS#2), I was told that I was the 4th woman with “Stealthy Black” in 3rd and the “Circus Gals” in 5th/6th. We had essentially arrived together so it was a race to see who could resupply herself fastest and get out ahead of the others. “Stealthy Black” won that race and I followed, after ensuring that I had everything required for the remaining 54 km and the upcoming night. The “Circus Gals” left soon after me and I could hear their chatter from the switchback below.

Along the dreaded Beaverdell Rd (remember – the gravel, the pick-up trucks, the relentless climb?), I tried to run everything. I tried to look stronger and faster than them by running when they were walking. In the process, I nearly rejected my recently swallowed PB&J, pushing too hard after consuming so much food at the aid station. I could see “Stealthy Black” way up ahead but sadly never again. When we finally reached the Ellis Canyon trails, I flew, knowing that my endless training on mountain bike trails would be a hard act to follow. But what is gained is so easily lost.

I needed nothing at the 58 km water stop – except the pit toilet (I blame that friggin’ PB&J!) so the “Circus Gals” retook their lead. They were out of sight when I emerged and I put myself back into chase mode. Losing a place is disappointing but losing two places really bothered me. “Cowboy Hat” and I descended through the deep sand together and both of us opted for wet feet as we forded the reservoir river which allowed us to easily gain six or seven places. During the steep ascent on the climb out of the reservoir valley, I could hear, then see, the “Circus Gals” but I was unable to overtake them until one of them stopped to remove her pack near the summit.

When we finally began to descend down Campbell Mtn DH trail, I hooked my invisible bungy onto the back of one of the “Twins” as they yahooed down the mountain bike trails towards aid station #3. I knew that one of the “Circus Gals” was just behind me so I tried to lengthen my stride with each step. It was one of those descents where I was huffing from the strong downhill effort. Of course, we all arrived at AS#3 (71 km) within seconds of each other. I chatted with old friends and tried to nourish myself well before heading out. This is where Lisa’s wise words about getting the same burger and same award at the finish helped me put things in perspective. It didn’t matter how we all placed. We were strangers who love doing the same thing and are well-matched to run together. In any other scenario, we would have laughed at our commonalities.

While I caught up with Lisa and Heather, “Cowboy Hat” and the “Circus Gals” quickly left the aid station and the “Twins” picked up their enthusiastic pacers all before I found the motivation to get going. I was dreading the next part. Greyback Mtn Road is the soul-sucking climb that would go on for 6+ km and would take me at least 1hr 20min to attain.

When I left the pavement and the grade steepened, I had time to start crunching the numbers. It was 5 pm, 11 hours into the race, and I still had 30 km to go. I was behind my secret time by 35 minutes which wasn’t too bad, but I was starting to feel the fatigue building in my legs. I knew that I wasn’t going to get any faster and that my longest training run (33 km) was not enough to pull it off. At my current slovenly pace, I was not going to see the “Circus Gals” again but I desperately wanted to catch them. As I was trying to re-calibrate my goals, I realized that each 25 km section had taken 4 hours. Surely I could run a downhill 25 km in less time. I waffled between optimism and defeat for this entire climb. It was the lowest point of the day.

Reaching the turn off Greyback and onto High Point Rd was awesome. I was able to run along the double track and I could see the orange colours of the sunset as the sun briefly made an appearance below the clouds. There were about 30 peaceful minutes of twilight running where I met up with “Cowboy Hat” and we stuck together until the headlamps came out. He mentioned that I seemed to have bounced back from a low point and I replied that sometimes you don’t even know you’re having a low point until it is over and you suddenly feel good again. We parted ways once our lights were on and I trucked on ahead and up the final steep grunt of the day.

I ran everything down to aid station #4, although caution has sadly become my downhill running style. I wanted to pull out my ipod and listen to some motivating tunes here but I dared not lose a minutes time in fumbling around with cords and stuff. Three long switchbacks kept looping us back and forth above the station so I could occasionally hear chatter or music down below. It was eerie and it took forever! When I arrived at the short out-and-back to the station, the “Twins” and their effervescent pacers were on their way back into the trails.

I was the only customer at AS#4 (87 km). A volunteer tried to direct me to a fireside chair and blanket which I declined but, as I started to dig into those delicious, fresh Okanagan apples, I simply had to take a seat for my second and third helping. Since I was now having a gag reflex every time I tried to swallow a gel, that crisp, pure taste of apple was exactly what I needed. I downed some Coke too. The clock showed 14 hrs 23min (remember – my secret finishing time goal) and here I was, sitting in a chair with 13 km to go. It was time to re-calibrate my finish goal again. I figured that I could run the last section in 90 minutes so I set my sights on sub 16.

Once back on course, it didn’t take long for me to find the “Circus Gals”. I could hear their chatter and see the glow of their lamps long before they saw me coming. We greeted each other again, as we had all day, and I could see that the downhill was taking its toll on one of their knees. I retook my lead and tried to look strong and confident as I scurried on ahead but, a few minutes later, I took my only tumble of the day. I caught a toe, flew a few feet and managed to right myself, jarring my wrist slightly. They both checked in on me and made sure I was okay before we re-assumed our positions and continued on.

With the frenzy of the fall and with finally being ahead, I got cocky and missed a significant turn just a minute later. I found myself on the far side of a creek, in the dark with no markers in either direction. I had to retrace my steps (uphill) and find my error. Of course, this put me behind the Gals again but now I was pissed that they had not called out to me when they saw me go off course. I berated myself for losing my concentration and vowed to really focus on the reflective markers. I figured that I would find the “Circus Gals” quite soon but it took over 4 km for that to happen.

The markers were fewer here and I kept doubting that I was on the right path. I stopped, searched and retraced my steps multiple times. I finally thought Screw It and plowed on where I thought the route was going and, sure enough, I found a marker a few minutes later. I had the same attitude when I came across a frisbee golf course full of cows but no markers. At this point, I could see Lake Okanagan and the lights on the far side and I knew that the trail section was almost done.

Just as I could hear traffic and see street lights, I came up behind the “Circus Gals”. They thought I was “Cowboy Hat” and seemed surprised that I had ended up behind them again but I reassured them that it was just me, “Skirt Lady”. We confirmed that this next section, the last section, was about 5 km on the Kettle Valley Railbed (KVR) and a final km down to the yacht club.

I made my final pass of these women and ran with full effort along this wide, gravel road. I was determined to put a big gap between us and I still had my sub 16 hr goal in mind. But all my bumbling around, searching for markers in the dark, had eliminated my time cushion. My quads were screaming from the long downhill trails we had just completed and the leg turnover was sad indeed. Somehow I managed to overtake another runner here but only because he had been reduced to a walk. The KVR was another part of the course that I had not looked at carefully since it was a gentle downhill grade. It was long and it was hard (said the actress to the bishop) and I searched endlessly for the right hand descent to the water. I only looked back once to see if I was being hotly pursued and thankfully there was only darkness behind me.

When I reached the yacht club parking lot, I was truly exhausted with the effort and I truly didn’t think I could run all the way across to the finish chute. And when I crossed the line, I had to stand with my hands on my knees and breathe for a couple of minutes before receiving my congratulatory hugs. I left it all on the course. The “Circus Gals” and I raced each other for 60+ km and traded placings over and over again. They arrived at the finish 6 minutes after me, having run every step of the day together.

They call these events ‘races’ but I have only ever entered to simply run. But today, this felt like a race all day long. Although it was a much slower pace than the winners, it felt like the three of us were playing some kind of strategic mind game. I doubt that I would have had my 16:08 finish time if they hadn’t been pushing the pace and offering the challenge all day.  Thanks, “Circus Gals”! May we meet again.

This Ain’t Our First Rodeo

OR Mighty Quail 100 km race report

At 5:45 am, forty-seven racers milled about at the edge of Skaha Lake in the pitch dark. I was struck by the relaxed feel to this race start – a calm, almost jovial feel among the runners. We had all been here before. Not necessarily here, as in the start line of the MQ, but here as in a start line for an ultra.

The website clearly states that this is a race for experienced ultra runners only. With only four aid stations and two water drops along the entire 100 km, it favours those who know their running needs intimately and are able to be self-sufficient for many hours in remote areas. There are no marshals out on course and the tiny field of >50 means that racers could be alone for long spells. This race does not provide any coddling which is exactly why it appealed to me.

From the lakeside, there is nowhere to go but up – since we had 4200 m (13500+ ft) of climbing ahead of us. We began on pavement through a neighbourhood before turning onto a large chunk of private property bordering Skaha Bluffs Provincial Park. During those first six km, we traveled up along gravel roads, double track trail and some game trails. We descended down rocky cliffs with fixed ropes and, by the time we arrived at the Skaha Bluffs parking lot, we were spread out comfortably along the single track.

During this first section, I tried to distance myself from the endless chatter of “What Races Have You Done” guy and I happily let “Bear Bell” guy sprint off in front of me. I stepped aside to let Bruce and a train of speedy downhillers get past but was soon stopped short when I found Bruce limping on the trailside, having just rolled his ankle once again. Despite his pained grimace and his obvious distress, he insisted that I carry on and that he would walk it out to see how it fared.

During my brief pause with Bruce, much of the field passed us by and now I found myself completely alone. In fact, I saw only one other runner for the next 24 km. I focussed on following the trail markers, which were minimal but absolutely adequate, and sticking with my nutrition/hydration plans. It was a relief to be away from the crowd and the ‘racing’. I admired the incredible variety of fall colours from the brilliant yellow Aspens to the magenta Sumac with varigated Maple leaves underfoot. I could relax into my own pace and my own thoughts and enjoy these trails unknown to me. It felt just like any of my training runs – perfect solitude.

The day was cloudy and cool. Most of the day, I was just barely comfortable in my short sleeve t-shirt. I often thought of pulling out my arm-warmers but was too preoccupied to do so. I prefer being too cool as it means I have to run harder to keep warm. The first aid station came at 15 km and here I saw the only other runner since leaving Bruce. There were some unfamiliar gels which I skipped and some homemade chocolaty “Quail Eggs” which were fantastic – I wished I had taken 10 of them! After refilling my water bottles, I headed up the gravel road knowing that the upcoming 17 km was a broken climb to the high point of the day which would take me over two hours to achieve.

Arriving at the first aid station. photo credit: @mightyquail100

Despite a significant ankle roll at 4 km, Bruce went on to run to AS#3, 71 km into the race. photo credit: @mightyquail100

There are five trail systems on the east side of Penticton – Skaha Bluffs, Wiltse, Carmi, Campbell Mtn and Three Blind Mice. There are a few old roads in the hills in-between these parks and even fewer trails. The Mighty Quail route is an attempt to link all five parks together using whatever connections available. This means using a whole lot of overgrown road and non-existent trail through thigh-high grasses. As well, the route includes a wide variety of single and double track trail, logging road, decommissioned road and game trails. If you don’t like the kind of trail you were on, simply wait five minutes and it will surely change. The Fall colours and the occasional glimpses of the lakes were like little rewards along the way.

Around 29 km, the route turns left and ascends steeply for 3 km. This is where I finally found some fellow runners. I enjoy a gritty climb and was able to power past a  number of folks who were plodding along. Eventually the straight-up grade changed to switchbacks and became the kind of climb where you could crane your neck up and see who was six switchbacks ahead of you. I continued to reel people in and felt like I was back in the game again. As we reached the top, all focus went to the upcoming water drop. I still had plenty of fluids but this 37 km milestone would mean that the most remote section and the steepest climb were behind me.

The trail popped me out onto an old clearcut and here I could suddenly see eight other runners. The curvy forest trail had hidden them from view but now it was apparent that we were all very close together. There was even a line-up for water as six of us politely took turns to refill, with more runners arriving through the cut block and along the logging road. Our small group headed back into the trails and soon hit the logging road which would take us all the way to aid station #2, 47 km into the race.

A whole bunch of us arrived at the 47 km aid station within seconds of each other. We all simultaneously delved into our only drop bag for the race and began tucking our reserve supplies into every pocket available. I perused the food table and enjoyed a few cups of broth, a PB&J and the last perogy. About 15 minutes later (where does the time go??), I headed out and began the climb up to Beaverdell Road.

Despite my pre-run scouring of the TrailForks race map and last year’s runners’ Strava maps, I somehow overlooked this section of road, which is 5 km of wide gravel road where pick-up trucks speed past, churning up gravel in their wake as they prove how pathetic you are on foot. I ran every step of the gentle ascent and tried to lengthen my stride when the road finally curved downhill. Soon enough, I had passed the halfway point and re-entered single track trail. The Ellis Canyon trail was a beautiful part of the course. The trail hangs on the side slope of the canyon, below the road. It would be a heart-throbbing ride on a mountain bike and was equally thrilling on foot. I tried to take glimpses of the canyon below but mostly I kept my eyes on the trail.

The second water cache at 57 km seemed quite unnecessary so soon after AS#2 but I was relieved to find a pit toilet in the parking lot all the same. After crossing over Beaverdell Rd, the trail eventually began a steep descent through deep, loose sand down towards the Campbell Mtn reservoir and the river crossing. I was thankful for my dirty girl gaiters as they prevented most of the sand making its way into my shoes. When I reached the river, about six runners were stopped, some removing shoes, others re-lacing on the far side and some barefoot, mid-creek. Having no fear of wet shoes, socks or feet, I attempted to cross through the calf-deep water without hesitating but soon was crab-walking on all four over the treacherously slippery rocks. I made it across without further incident and began the steep ascent out of the river valley.

The route continued to ascend up less-used trails and then became smoothed-out switchbacks leading up to the microwave towers at the summit of Campbell Mtn. From this summit, we began the sweet, single track descent on flowy mountain bike trails all the way down to aid station #3 at 71 km. I was delighted to see old friends Lisa and Heather in charge of this station and I was uber-spoiled with hot broth, tales of mutual friends and adventures we had all had since leaving the Lower Mainland. When I bemoaned my slower-than-anticipated time, Lisa wisely reminded me that no matter when you finished, everyone got the same race t-shirt and the same burger at the finish line. It was exactly what I needed to hear and I mulled it over during the long, steep climb up Greyback Mtn Road.

I heard this climb described as ‘soul-sucking’ and it lived up to its reputation. The paved road twisted its way up past cattle farms and acreages before it became a gravel road and then a loose, baby-head quad track. Over 5 km, it steepened with each switchback and I concentrated on finding the shortest path around corners and watching the rocky footing. I had briefly considered leaving my poles in my drop bag way back at 47 km but I was really glad that I still had them with me for this. I knew that the route would eventually veer left off this road and I felt disappointment each time the road swerved right again with no left exit. I finally came to the High Point Road just as some very encouraging and friendly quad drivers arrived going downhill. I headed along High Point, able to shuffle along the gentle grade. At some point, I met up with ‘Cowboy Hat’ and we decided that it was time to pull out the headlamps. Once I was set-up, I started to fly again.

There is something about night running that thrills me. It is like a six-ticket ride at the fair. I feel fearless in my 8 ft wide beam of light and I ignore everything except the immediate underfoot. I anticipated the final climb at 83 km so I didn’t mind it too much especially since it was a mountain bike track rather than a nasty road. After that, I holstered my poles and enjoyed the wild, smooth switchbacks of the Three Blind Mice trail system. I could hear voices off in the distance which I guessed was the final aid station but it took a long while before I descended far enough to reach it.

I was met at the short out-and-back approach by a volunteer who kindly pointed me in the correct direction and I arrived to much excitement at the 87 km mark. As I indulged in some Coke and a big pile of apples, a volunteer explained that the final descent could be run in ’45 minutes on fresh legs’. Seeing as I had the opposite of fresh legs, I figured that I had at least 90 minutes of race to do. It felt daunting but I knew that I still had some life in my legs and I was keen to be finished before 10:00 pm.

The descent was fun and those trails were in awesome condition but I missed a critical right turn and suddenly was bumbling along with no markers in sight. I backtracked and found my error and then continued to whistle on downhill. Unfortunately, there were three or four spots where I stopped and had to retrace my steps to the last marker. At one point, I plowed on ahead despite the lack of markers and eventually found one which was a great relief. When I finally reached the trailhead parking lot and hit the KVR trail, I was determined to hit that 10 pm goal but that KVR is a doozy and it kept rolling along, albeit mostly downhill, but it seemed to go on forever. At one point I was distracted by the gorgeous smell of fallen apples through the orchard section. I was so relieved when I finally turned off right off the KVR and steeply down the “Vancouver Trail” since I could finally see the yacht club and hear the finish line.

I love a race with a hand-written finisher board! Old School Rules! photo credit: @mightyquail100

I was welcomed into the finish chute by my husband Bruce, who had amazingly run to the 71 km mark on his bad ankle, and our good friends George and Gail. Once I had gathered my wits, I asked for my burger ‘to go’ and we hit the road. Indeed, I had the same finish line burger and received the same finisher MQ beer glass as everyone else. It isn’t really a race as much as it is a personal challenge and today I met that challenge.

I was too wiped at the finish line to indulge in the Barley Mill beer kegs onsite but I have put this glass to work since then.

I don’t think that the Mighty Quail is any more difficult than other 100 km races but it is very remote and minimalist which makes it a stand-out in my opinion. I loved being way off the beaten track and I loved being alone. I loved having to keep my wits about me and I loved gauging my needs in the long distances between aid. I loved the feeling of a self-supported training run and I loved knowing that I was surrounded by experience the whole day. The resumes of  these entrants are astounding and, if anything had gone awry out there, an army of experience would have been close at hand. The small field of runners and the grassroots approach made this a day to simply do what we love to do most!

But wait … This whole report sounds like some sort of paid advertisement for the race. Although everything above is true, here is a ‘Take 2’ report called And Now … The Truth. which gives a more honest account of my competitive spirit that day.

If you know me, then you know that any race with a chicken as its mascot is a race for me! photo credit: @mightyquail100

Fun Fact: I ran this like a metronome. It took me four hours to complete each 25 km section. 25 km = 4:00 hrs; 50 km = 8:03 hrs; 75 km = 12:16 hrs; 100 km = 16:08

Be Aware: You are allowed 11 hrs to arrive at AS#2 (47 km), leaving 7 hrs to complete the final 54 km. I truly wonder if this scenario is possible and if any mid-packers have run the second half in seven hours or less. Although the first half is more difficult, the second half is not easy, especially in the dark. Instead I would advise that you plan for a 9 hr/9 hr split, if you think you’ll need the whole 18 hrs.

finish time – 16:08.43

16/32 finishers (unofficial included); 4/11 women; 1/6  W40-49 age group