An Unreliable Memory
Finlayson Arm 50 km Race Report
As soon as I crossed the finish line last year, I knew that I would be back for more in 2016. This race offers more challenge and more beauty than any other 50 km I have run. When social media started buzzing with registration reminders, I jumped in on the action and eagerly anticipated my second tour of the Arm.
Last year, I was caught a little by surprise by the numerous steep climbs from sea level to 450 m. I vowed to be more prepared, both mentally and physically this year. But life often gets in the way of our grandiose plans and, as I completed the Squamish 50/50 three weeks before this race, I realized that I was going to have to muscle through on mental strength and fatigued legs. Knowing what was coming was both helpful and frightening and, many times before race day as I drifted off to sleep, I visualized the climbs, junctions and vistas that had been burned into my memory. I hoped that my memory was reliable.
From the start line, we cruised beside the campsite, turned down the slope towards the calf-deep Goldstream creek crossing and under Malahat Drive. I had remembered this first 6 km section as soft and flowy but I had my first jolt into reality when I was faced with loose rocks, eroded roots and short steep climbs. Although it wasn’t as difficult as what was to come, it would be completely inaccurate to call it soft and flowy. Within that section, I pushed hard to get ahead of the bell curve so that I would have space to negotiate the big Finlayson knob ascent. I found myself gasping and feeling nauseous from the hard effort and had to throttle back to avoid losing my breakfast so early in the day. We crossed back over to the eastern side of Finlayson Arm and began the main attraction of the day.
Mount Finlayson is a big climb. It is the sort of scramble that is stupid-fun to go up but would be plain stupid to go down. Perhaps some folks do but I wouldn’t. It often requires three points of contact and a lot of neck-craning to see the trail blazes up ahead. We got way up above the Bear Mountain community where the race photographers captured the perspective.
When I arrived at the summit, I glanced at my watch and saw that I was about 10 minutes faster than last year for the climb. This boosted my confidence in a PR for the course. If I avoided the toils of last year – a rolled ankle and dehydration – I could certainly take 20 to 30 minutes off my time. I simply needed to continue to run smart and save something for the dreaded return climb up Jocelyn Hill around the 36 km mark.
The race is essentially an out-and-back course except for these first 8 km and the final 4 km. It isn’t until we descended about a kilometer off of Mount Finlayson that we began the out-and-back. It was here that I began to notice the improvements in the course flagging. The flagging was not excessive but the corners, intersections and junctions were smartly marked with no room for error. There were blissfully, long sections where no ribbons were visible, allowing me to forget about the race and simply enjoy my peaceful, morning cruise.
After passing under the power lines of Holmes Peak and making my way down and then up towards the Jocelyn Hill climb, I came across the water stash, a new addition this year. Although I was in no need to extra water during these early morning hours, I took note of its location for my return trip. This route is remote, despite being in view of our provincial capital, and I recognized that this water was truly precious, having been hauled in on foot by a couple of very dedicated volunteers.
Once again the view attained at the summit of Jocelyn Hill makes the climb worth every step. This rocky outcrop allows you to glimpse over the edge of the abyss, down to the ocean below, where you started the day a couple of hours ago.
Surprisingly, none of these climbs was as grueling as I had remembered. Every uphill had small downhill sections within them which allowed those climbing muscles a brief respite. Every downhill had a few climbs. I stayed comfortable, I ate on schedule, I drank plenty and I felt great.
As I began my descent from 450 m down to sea level, it seemed unfathomable that I would be back up at the 425 m summit of Mt. Work in another 10 km. Six km later, I strode along the sea-shore beside seaweed on the tidal mark and turned to begin the next climb. The wide trail up to aid station #2/4 was not the runnable track that I recalled. Instead I was surprised to be reduced to a purposeful walk and was treated to see the most enormous pile of very fresh bear scat that I have ever seen.
If you are a Monty Python fan, you would love aid station #2/4. Complete with a riot of bells ringing in your arrival, there were hilarious quotes in the outhouse, knights and maidens serving you and even killer rabbits nipping at your heels. After a good chuckle, I pressed on, wondering when I would see the leaders on their return trip.
Once again, my memory proved unreliable as I expected crowds of walkers and hikers on my way up Mt. Work but today the trails were relatively empty and I only came across a few day hikers. In almost the same spot as last year, the lead runner came flying around a corner, barely touching the ground on his descent. I always find it awe-inspiring to see how confident and beautiful those gifted runners are. I called out my praise and watched as he leapt past me effortlessly. I felt buoyed by his speed and eagerly anticipated the runners in pursuit.
In no time, I was at the summit of Mt. Work and heading down the well-flagged switchbacks on the far side towards the turnaround point (approx 30 km). I heard Bruce’s voice call out to me and met him in the same place that we met last year as he was re-ascending Mt. Work. He was looking strong and admitted to feeling pretty good, despite his ongoing recovery from the 850 km TransPyrenean race he had recently completed. We parted ways and I hustled along the flats towards the third aid station.
The entertainment of an out-and-back continued as I re-ascended Mt. Work. I got to see who was hot on my heels and where my training buddies were. I came across Todd and J.P. as they made their way towards the turnaround. Both were in great spirits and in awe of this course’s difficulty. Brianna was close by, feeling wretched at that moment, and seemed surprised at the endless climbs. As I reached the summit a second time, I was serenaded by a rookery of ravens who were diving and swooping just above my head. They were making calls that were unfamiliar to me but seemingly filled with joy. I began my descent and reminded myself to pay close attention to the fine dust and loose gravel on the rocky surface as this is where I had tweaked my ankle last year. When the tricky section was over, I focused on the dreaded return up Jocelyn Hill. That climb had flattened me with its endless steepness and I became terribly dehydrated. I had spent most of today reminding myself to save a lot for that climb.
As I returned to the Monty Python aid station and was inducted into the Ministry of Silly Walks at 34 km, I was solely focused on the next climb. Obsessed. Conserving. Holding back. Ready for it. Ready for disaster. So, of course, as I approached the top of Jocelyn Hill an hour and a bit later, I was sort of stunned at how easily it had come. It was nothing like how I remembered. Perhaps all that conserving had served me well. Or perhaps the cooler day with cloudy skies made the difference. Whatever it was, I could finally think about my time and maybe even push the pace a bit. How big was this PR going to be?
I started to do my mental math calculations on the descent and I began to realize that I was not going to improve my time this year. Somehow I had fallen way back on my time and now I was in a race with myself to simply match last year’s time. I guess all that conserving had slowed me down. But it wasn’t over yet – I still had about 14 km and two hours to speed up. With that realization, I turned the afterburners on and raced. I passed people I had been with all day and flew down switchbacks. I ran up steep grinds and pushed the pace over the next two climbs. I barely hesitated at the final aid station, knowing that I had to keep track of every second.
As I neared the campsite, I could hear the finish line announcer call out my name. I crossed the line in 8:27:37, three minutes faster than last year. During those last few kilometers, I truly earned my awesome engraved Driftwood beer glass and the pints of recovery beer that accompanied the post-race barbecue. I managed to improve my time after all and I recognize how impressive this is on such a challenging course. Yet I still wonder what happened to my PR cushion of 10+ minutes since I had no issues that slowed me down and there were so many logistical improvements to the course this year. I can only speculate that sometimes knowing what lies ahead can actually work against you. So now I have the task of wiping my mind clear of everything related to Finlayson Arm so that next year it will all appear new again.
Finish time – 8:27:237
28/82 finishers; 8/28 women; 1/7 W40-49 age group
along a path 