I got interviewed!

A huge, huge thank you to Katie Campbell Spyrka, owner of the blog “Lessons in Badassery” for putting together this interview with me. Katie’s blog showcases “badass women in sport, fitness, and adventure”. To read more amazing interviews and articles and to follow this awesome blog, go to Lessons in Badassery

Carolin Botterill: Accidental Ultra Runner

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51-year-old ultra-runner and multi-day stage race specialist, Carolin Botterill, wasn’t always into running. It wasn’t until she was 36, and a mum of three, that she began the journey which would ultimately lead to her becoming an ultra-runner – accidentally – via a bid to get fit and lose weight. At first she walked, then she ran, and just kept running. Now, 17 years later, Carolin has completed some of the toughest multi-day ultras on the planet, taking her from the Arctic Circle to the Peruvian jungle.

In one of the most insightful interviews I’ve posted, Carolin shares her experiences with me, including the lengths she goes to in order to acclimatise to extreme heat and cold ahead of her ultra-events.

It wasn’t until your late thirties that you began running. How did your journey to ultra-runner come about?
Really what started the journey was a desire to lose weight. I had 3 kids under the age of 5, I was obese, and I was ready for change. I had been a chubby kid and teenager, and as an adult had rollercoaster dieted. With each baby I had gained more and more weight, and I came to the realisation that this wasn’t the person I wanted to be. I also wanted something different for my three daughters, for them not to have the same struggles I had with weight and food, and I knew I needed to make changes within myself for that to happen.

I began just by walking. I had always liked walking and it seemed a good place to start. Then the idea of running got into my head and wouldn’t go away. So, one day I set out for a run. I managed to run an entire 2 minutes before I had to stop. I persevered however, and my running journey began.

Was running and getting fit a struggle when you first started?
Yes, it was. As I mentioned, I had 3 kids under the age of 5 when I first started, so just physically getting out the door was a struggle on many days. Luckily I had (and still have!) a supportive husband, which made that struggle a bit easier. The fitness part was really less of a struggle, it just came progressively. As I began running, I was gradually able to go further and further without needing to stop and walk. There is a big hill about 2km from my house, and I still remember my moment of triumph when I was able to run all the way from my house to the top of that hill without stopping. It was a real milestone for me and was when my fitness really started to take off. The real struggle was, and always has been, the eating part of it. We are surrounded by all kinds of food and messages about food, and eating the right things consistently is hard! It is something I still struggle with today.

Did you ever envisage you’d be capable of such incredible feats of endurance?
Never! My blog is called Accidental Ultra Runner because I never in my life thought I would or planned on being an ultra runner. In fact, when I first started running I wasn’t even aware that such things even existed. The longest race I had ever heard of then was a marathon, and I even thought that was very far outside my abilities.

What was the first ultra you entered and how did you find it?
The first ultra I entered was a 50k in amongst the giant redwoods in California called Big Trees. It was so hard! I came in dead last, they kept the course open an extra ½ hour for me, and the sweeper ran me in. I also loved every minute of it, well, except for the part where I got poison oak.

Earlier this year you did the notoriously hard 230km-long Ice Ultra – how was this experience?
The Ice Ultra is a 5-day multi-stage race covering 230km above the Arctic Circle in Swedish Lapland. The event takes place in February of each year and is put on by Beyond the Ultimate race series. This race was very different from any I’ve ever done before because of both the temperature and the terrain, and the fact that the majority of it was done wearing snow-shoes. Not to mention sleeping outside in teepees with only a reindeer skin between me and the snow.

The below zero temperatures definitely made for a different kind of race, really with no room for error. For example, in a warm weather race, if you get tired or need to stop, it’s no problem, you just stop and rest or whatever you need to do. In the cold, however, you really cannot do this. Even if you feel warm while you’re moving, the second you stop you begin to cool down and it can become dangerous very quickly. There were a number of competitors who found this out on the very first day, getting frostbite on faces and fingers, who were unable to start on the second day. So this is a challenge, you have to keep moving basically at all times, and the proper gear is essential.

Photo Credit: Mikkel Beisner

I’m lucky because I did my training in the Rocky Mountains in winter, so I had ample opportunity to test out all of my gear in cold, snowy conditions. Most competitors did not have this luxury. My longest training run was 8 hours on a day when the high was -28C! On a day like that you quickly find out what is working for you and what is not. Just keeping your water from freezing up becomes a challenge. Because of this training I felt quite confident going in, at least that my gear was not going to let me down.

What were the highs and lows of the Ice Ultra?
The high for me at this race was seeing the stunning beauty of this part of the world, and meeting so many amazing, like-minded people from across the globe – the things I always love best at these kinds of events.

The only low point for me came at the end of the long stage… I was out for over 15 hours, and the last km or so of the stage involved slogging over a lake that had a layer of surface water, essentially knee-deep slush. Needless to say I got quite wet during that time. When I came across the finish line for the stage, I felt just fine, not cold, just glad to be done. I made my way into the semi-heated building they had available for us, started making myself some food, etc when very quickly I got very cold and became hypothermic. I’m still not sure why this happened, something about the warm blood leaving my core to help warm up my extremities, which had become very cold as a result of being in the wet slush or something. Anyway, the medics were on it right away, helping me to get into warm, dry clothes, ensconcing me in a giant down coat and pants, then inside a big plastic bag while bringing me warm things to drink. Even with all of that it took several hours before I was able to stop shivering. I’m used to becoming cold after a long day of running – it happens even when it’s not cold outside – but this was a pretty extreme and a little frightening. Once I finally got warmed up however, I was fine and was quite able to finish up the last day with no problem.

On the opposite spectrum you’ve done the super-hot Jungle Ultra in Peru 3 times
Well, I absolutely love this race. There is just something about it that makes me want to come back again and again. Yes, it can be very hot, very humid, very wet, very muddy, but all of these things add to the experience. This year I had both a high and low point on the same stage – stage 5, the Long One. This stage has both a long and a short course and after a 5:00 am start you must reach a certain point in the stage by 3:00 pm. The first two times I ran this race I didn’t make the time cut-off and had to run the short course. This year I made that time cut-off with just 2 minutes to spare, but I made it! That was definitely a high for me!

The low came a little bit later… while the short course of stage 5 takes you around a mountain to the finish line, the long course takes you over that same mountain. Going up the mountain, while difficult, was fine for me. I, along with my friend Jeff Lau, reached the top of the mountain just before darkness fell, therefore we were forced to make the treacherous journey down the other side of the mountain in the dark.

The trail is like nothing you’ve probably ever seen before – near vertical downhill sections of slick, greasy mud that went on seemingly forever. I honestly almost reached my breaking point on this section of the trail. It was pretty scary and dangerous and I can tell you that I fell more than once! At the time when I felt almost broken, instead of giving in to tears and despair though, I got really angry! I’m not sure what exactly I was angry at, but I was filled with it and the thought that this was not going to be my breaking point. The anger really helped fuel me and I picked up so much speed that Jeff had to ask me to slow down so as not to leave him behind in the dark. At that point I stopped and took a breath and let the anger drain away, but I not longer felt on the edge of breaking anymore either. I was able to take control of myself and my emotions and continue getting myself down the mountain. I can’t say I didn’t shed a few tears of relief once we got to the bottom though, because I most certainly did!

What kind of heat training did you do to prepare for the jungle?
I start heat training about 4-6 weeks before the race. My research tells me that it takes about 90 minutes a day for at least 4 weeks for the body to make the actual physiological changes to perform better in the heat. Because the jungle also has extremely high humidity, I try and prepare for that as well. So, I do 2 things: I set up a makeshift steam sauna, basically a tent with a kettle, where the temperature and humidity gets very high. I also have a home-made treadmill sauna….a treadmill enclosed by tarps with heaters and humidifiers, where the temperature gets up to the high 30’s Celsius. My routine becomes doing my workout, then sitting in the steam tent for 30-40 minutes, then spending an hour doing brisk walking on my treadmill with the heat on.  It may be a bit excessive, but I like to be as prepared as possible and I do think it makes a difference as I am really never bothered by the heat or humidity in the jungle.

What is it about these incredibly tough multi-day ultras that keeps you coming back for more?
I think it’s really a combination of things. I really do enjoy the mental and physical challenge, not just of the events themselves, but also of the training and planning that goes into it. I love travelling to far-flung places for an adventure. I love meeting like-minded people and hearing their stories. There is really so much about it that I love that it’s easy to overlook the hardship part of it.

You live in Calgary, Canada with the Canadian Rocky Mountains on your doorstep. It must make for a great training ground!
Calgary is a really great outdoor city. Not only do we have the Rocky Mountains as a backyard playground, but we also have the longest urban pathway system in North America. I try to get out to the mountain trails at least once or twice a week. No matter which trail I choose, I can always be guaranteed of a good hill workout!

Which do you find more difficult with ultra-distance running – is it the physical endurance or the mental test?
I think most of the time it is the mental test. The body just kind of gets on auto-pilot a lot of the time, one foot in front of the other. Don’t get me wrong, it is physically hard as well, but sometimes it takes a lot of work to keep the brain in the game. If you give up mentally, it doesn’t even matter how your body is feeling.

Have you got any strategies for when things get tough? I read that you count your steps?
Yes, I have been known on many occasions to count steps. I find that doing something as simple as this allows my mind to focus on something other than how tired I am or how I am feeling physically. I make deals with myself that I will run for a certain number of steps, and then I will allow myself to walk or rest for a minute. It’s really just a re-focusing technique. I also like to listen to music, though I don’t like to wear headphones on the trail, so I play it on a speaker. I usually reserve the music for the night-time hours when it can get a little lonely out there. I think anything you can do that just focuses your mind elsewhere is helpful for getting through the tough times.

Have you had any hairy moments during your ultra-running?
Not too many… there was one time when I came face-to-face with a fully grown moose on the trail. Those things are huge and you really don’t want to mess with them. I just backed away and waited for it to leave!

Photo Credit: Raven Eye Photography

Also, my first time out at the Jungle Ultra I had an issue with my headlamp. On the last stage I was running down a rough mountain road in the dark when my headlamp just completely died. It was very dark, and the road had a sheer drop-off on one side. I was exhausted, and it was actually quite scary because I simply could not see where I was going. I kept moving myself forward even though I was crying and afraid. After what felt like a really long time, a truck drove up the road towards me with a bunch of local people in the back.  When they saw me crying in the darkness, one of the men very kindly gave me a little flashlight. I don’t think I have ever been so relieved and thankful! Funnily enough, the same thing happened with my headlamp at this year’s Jungle Ultra. Thankfully though I was with other runners at the time, so I was able to navigate by the light of their headlamps.

What do you eat for breakfast before an ultra? And how do you fuel your events?
It depends. If it’s a multi-stage race where I’m carrying everything I need for a week on my back, I will bring oatmeal and peanut butter. And coffee, I can’t do without my coffee. I carry Starbucks Via singles and Nescafe 3-in1 singles. For a single day event, I will usually have a bagel or toast with peanut butter and jam.  And coffee, of course.

During the events themselves, I mainly do ‘real’ food, though I do always carry a few gels for when I need some quick energy. The ‘real’ food can be anything from nuts to bars, to cookies and candy. When I’m in the middle of a 100km or longer single-day event where I have a crew, I like for them to bring me a cheeseburger in the middle of the night!

Do you take anything or do anything to help your body recover after a multi-stage event?
Not really, other than a period of rest. When I travel to events I usually hang around for a time afterwards, sight-seeing or whatever, and this serves as a good active recovery period for me. After the Ice Ultra I took a full 2 weeks off from running, after which time I was ready to start ramping up for the Jungle again.

What kit do you swear by for your ultra runs and multi-day events?
Well, I do have a few favourites for sure. For shoes, I am an Asics girl through and through. I love the nice wide toe box that they have, while still hugging the heel enough. My favourites are the Asics Gel Fujitrabuco trail shoes. They are a good all-round trail shoe.

My watch is a good old fashioned Timex digital watch. It doesn’t do anything fancy and that’s how I like it.

As for clothes, I’m still looking for the perfect pair of shorts, but in the meantime my current faves are Brooks Greenlight 7” short. They are long enough for good coverage, and are soft and chafe-free. I’ve put these shorts through the wringer and they have held up very well.

For outerwear, I’m a big fan of Mountain Hardwear. I always carry a Mountain Hardwear Ghost Light Rain Jacket. It folds up extremely small, and only weighs 85 grams, so I can easily stash it in my backpack to have if the weather changes. I also love my Mountain Hardwear Ghost Whisperer Down Jacket. Very warm and cosy with little weight and size.

The one thing I can never run without are Injinji Toe Socks. They are super comfortable and durable and are the best for preventing blisters.

You must be blister pro! Have you any tips on preventing blisters and chafing?
Actually, I rarely get blisters. When I do a multi-stage event, my big luxury is bringing a fresh pair of socks for each day, and I think this really helps with blister prevention. The accumulated grit in dirty socks can cause a lot of friction. That, and properly fitting shoes makes a big difference in blister prevention. A lot of people like to size up with their shoes for multi-stage events in case their feet swell, but I think at times that can cause more problems than it prevents. When your feet are not swollen and you have sized up your shoes, you can get a lot of movement inside your shoes, and that almost always leads to blisters.

Now chafing, however, I have a lot of experience with! The backpacks that are designed for multi-day running events are not made for women, especially women with a small stature. I have to have the straps of my pack as short as they will go, and I still get quite a lot of movement in my pack, which inevitably leads to chafing on my back. I do tape my back in areas I know are prone to chafing, but in very hot, wet events like the Jungle Ultra, even this is usually not enough and I end up with some degree of lost skin. I wish one of the companies would come up with a women’s specific pack that addresses this problem.

What’s the most challenging endurance event you’ve done?
I have a feeling that my upcoming 100 mile race at Sinister7 is going to be my biggest challenge ever – 100 miles in the Canadian Rocky Mountains with 6400 m of elevation gain in 30 hours will be hugely challenging.

Other than that though, it is hard for me to say because each race has its own super-challenging parts, and then parts that are a bit less so.

Have there been any events that you started but didn’t finish?
Yes, there have been a few DNFs in my racing history. One time I was pulled from a race because I did not make a time cut-off. This felt devastating because I still have no doubt that I could have completed the distance. A couple of other times I pulled myself out… once because I was having severe stomach issues, once because I simply wasn’t feeling it that day, and one time when my brain gave up. That one is probably the worst because I look back on it with regret. I got myself into a bad place mentally and I just wasn’t able to pull myself out of it. I do really try and use all of them as a learning experience however. I look at what I did, and what led up to the DNF, and figure out ways to do things differently next time.

Do you think you’ve found your body’s limit yet when it comes to endurance?
No, I really don’t think so. The human body is capable of so much more than we give it credit for!!

Are all your runs outside or do you ever run on a treadmill?
I try to avoid running on the treadmill at all costs (with the exception of when I’m heat training, then it is a necessary evil). I am pretty hardy and train outside in most kinds of weather. The only thing that might keep me inside would be if everything is just too icy, as sometimes happens with the kind of freeze/thaw cycles we get around here. It would have to be very bad though.

Which has been your favourite event so far and why?
The Jungle Ultra is my favourite race by far. It has all the elements I love in a place that is near and dear to me.  A beautiful setting, challenging course, an element of adventure, great people…what more could I ask for?

Where are your favourite places in the world to run?
Well, I am of course particularly fond of my Rocky Mountain backyard playground, but really I love going to any far-flung place for a running adventure. I am up for almost anything, almost anywhere!

What do your friends and family think about your endurance challenges?
I am super lucky to have a very supportive family who are whole-heartedly behind me, no matter what crazy thing I sign up for next. Ultra running can be a very selfish endeavour because the training and travelling do take up a lot of time, but my family never complains and always encourages me. I always say my husband David is my number 1 fan. He also runs and we sometimes do events together. Other family members come out and crew for me at more local races, and I always appreciates their unconditional support.

I think most of my friends think I have a few screws loose sometimes, but they are all encouraging and supportive too.

How many miles do you typically run each week, and do you do any other sport?
I don’t really have a “typical” number of training kilometres each week because it varies wildly depending on what I’m training for and where I am in my training cycle.  It can vary from maybe 40km/week on the low side all the way up to 120 or more right before a big event.

I don’t really do too much other than running, but I have been known to go hiking or pull out the mountain bike at times.

What’s a typical week’s training look like for you at the moment, Monday-Sunday?
Right now I am in the final stages of tapering for my upcoming 100-miler so my training is not typical of what I normally do. In the weeks leading up to a multi-stage event, my training might look something like this:

Sunday – 10km run or walk with fully loaded backpack, 5km hot treadmill
Monday – Long mountain run with fully loaded backpack (Up to 45 km)
Tuesday – Hill repeats with backpack (1-3 hours of repeats on a 1km long hill)
OR Shorter mountain run, up to 20km with backpack, 5km hot treadmill
Wednesday – 10km mixed run/walk with backpack, 5km hot treadmill
Thursday – Sprint intervals, 5km hot treadmill
Friday – 10 easy run, 5km hot treadmill
Saturday – Rest

Do you ever get nervous before an event?
I do get nervous, but it is more in the couple of weeks leading up to a big event than right before. Once I get in the car or on the plane to go to an event, the nerves seem to vanish.

I deal with my nerves by becoming hyper-organised. I make lists, organise gear, make more lists, re-organise the gear, double-check everything, pack and repack my backpack, and just generally drive everyone crazy.

Are there ever times when you can’t face running or it feels like a chore?
Oh for sure. I am a master at procrastinating. I think it’s really important to be able to look at the reasons I’m feeling unmotivated. Often the lack of motivation comes just because I’ve been working super-hard and I’m simply tired. If this is the case, I will often change the run to a walk, shorten my planned distance, or even skip it altogether. I think it’s really important to listen to our bodies, and not be afraid to change the training plan accordingly.

Other times I may just be feeling lazy about getting out, but I find that if I can get my gear on and get out the door, that’s all it takes.

Do you record your runs with a watch or on Strava?
Nope, I am old-school. I pull out a map to plan my runs, and I use a plain old Timex digital watch.

Have you got any goals and upcoming events for the rest of 2017?
Yes, I do have a few things planned. In early September, a 100-km race in Lethbridge, Alberta called the Lost Soul Ultra (http://lostsoulultra.com)

Then, in November I’m going to tackle the Namib Desert with another multi-stage race, the 250km Desert Ultraby Beyond the Ultimate Race Series (http://beyondtheultimate.co.uk/ultra/the-desert-ultra-marathon/#!/2017/11/20)

Do you have any sponsors that support your challenges?
None yet.


Ice Ultra Race Report

Well, the 2017 Ice Ultra has come and gone, another amazing experience in the books. Beyond the Ultimate’s Ice Ultra is a five day, 230 km self supported stage race that takes place above the Arctic Circle in Swedish Lapland. I am not typically a “winter person”, normally preferring to huddle inside under a pile of blankets waiting for spring rather than getting out there and frolicking in the snow, so when I signed up for the Ice Ultra last year I knew I was going to have to change my attitude about being out in the cold. I started buying up all the cold weather gear and spouting things like “there’s no bad weather, only bad gear” as I prepared for this event. This was also the one and only time in my life when I actually hoped for a cold, snowy winter. Mother Nature was only too happy to oblige, and we did indeed get a rather cold, snowy winter, perfect for my training.

Having a very healthy respect for the cold, this event made me pretty nervous. So, in my typical fashion, I dealt with my anxiety by becoming ultra prepared. I spent hours on the internet researching and buying gear, and even more hours testing it all in the cold. I did 8+ hour training runs in -25C, and I even slept outside in a tent in my backyard when it was close to -30C to test my sleeping bag. I ate freeze-dried meals on the nights before long runs, and I threw my snacks into the freezer to ensure they would still be edible once frozen. By the time race day came, I was feeling pretty good about both my training and my choice of gear, and I was excited to get going.


Backyard tenting

The adventure began in Gallivare, Sweden, where we boarded a bus that would take us to the starting point of the race, a winter camp over 300 kms above the Arctic Circle. It was a lot of fun reuniting with old friends, and meeting new ones, and the bus was filled with chatter on the way to the camp. Once at the camp, we had a race briefing with race director Kris King and other members of the Beyond the Ultimate team, followed by a kit check. It was during this kit check that I realized that a couple important items of my kit had been left behind. I’m still not sure how this happened as I am normally very careful about my kit, but somehow it did. My balaclava was missing, as well as the Kahtoola Microspikes I had planned on bringing. It was ok though, I had enough other head and face coverings to make up for the balaclava, and the spikes were just an extra that would have been nice to have, mainly on the first stage.

After kit check, there was a lot of mingling and waiting around until the teepees were ready and it was bedtime. Bed was a reindeer pelt on the snow in an unheated teepee. I was glad I had tested my sleeping bag and night gear, because even though the temperature dropped very low, I was toasty warm all night. During the night the wind picked up, which would prove to become a factor during the first stage the next day.

So, at this point I had planned on doing a detailed report of each stage, but as often happens to me on long runs, I tend to zone out and really don’t remember large chunks of the route. I do have general impressions from each stage, but many of the details are really eluding me at this point. The thing I remember most about the first, 50 km stage is the relentless wind. Going over bare frozen lakes (where those forgotten spikes would really have come in handy!), climbing a seemingly endless hill, and the wind that threatened to blow me off my feet every time it gusted. As the day wore on, the wind only seemed to get stronger, and as darkness fell, another endless hill. At this point I am not sure if it was actually snowing, or if the snow was just blowing, but as I turned on my headlamp, the sideways snow made visibility very difficult. I don’t know if you’ve ever used a headlamp in the snow, but it flashes and glitters in the light and you really can see very little. The route was marked by small reflective flags, and the flashing snow made it very difficult to see them. I was literally going marker to marker, reaching one, then searching for the flash of the next one that was a little different kind of flash than that of the blowing snow. This section of the course was literally the most extreme thing I have ever done. I was by myself and could see no other runners either ahead or behind me, the temperature was falling, the wind was blowing very hard, and I could not tell where I was going. It was only the occasional passing of one of our Sami crew on a snowmobile that kept me from giving in to the fear that I felt at this point. Once I reached the top of that hill though, and started running down the other side, things definitely started improving. There were some trees so the wind wasn’t quite as fierce, and the path became much more defined. Once I started seeing lights in the distance, I knew I had this stage licked. The warm hikers cabin was a welcome retreat, and after some hot food and a change of clothing, everything was fine in my world once again. I did have one of the medics look at my face, but she deemed it to be windburn and not frostbite, for which I was thankful. Others were not so lucky, and several people were not allowed to start the next morning due to frostbite.


The vast, emptiness of stage 1

The morning of stage 2 was bright and sunny and the nasty wind had abated. My biggest impression of stage 2 was that I felt tired all day. I can’t really remember too much else about this day, except for the feeling of being tired. In the morning it was announced that due to an impassable lake, the 60km course was being shortened to 44km (I think?), and because of how I was feeling all day, I wasn’t too disappointed about that. I do know that is was bright and sunny with a lot of soft snow, over lakes and through forests and it was all very beautiful. I had the pleasure of “running” the last 10 or so km with fellow Canadian Paul Chan. Paul was feeling a bit tired this day as well (and no wonder, check out Paul and brother Eric’s epic journey here), so it was good we had each other to finish off the stage with. Because of the shortened course, the place we finished was not the same place we were spending the night, so we were being shuttled in a car to our night camp. I unfortunately had to wait a little while before it was my turn to go, and as soon as I stopped running, I got very, very cold, as I tend to do. The medical crew did a great job of getting me warm drinks and a big warm coat and keeping an eye on me until it was my time to go. The nice warm car with heated seats and heater on full blast helped get me warmed up, and then the heated cabin, change of clothes, and some hot food finished the job. It was at this point I realized that I had way to many snacks left over from the day, and I also had not peed all day. No wonder I felt tired all day, I had totally mismanaged both my food and hydration over the day. I’m still not sure how that happened, but I vowed to do better the next day. I also had a couple of small blisters at this point, a result I am sure of being in the snowshoes the entire day. I got them drained and taped up and they were not an issue for the rest of the race. I was also totally shocked when I looked in the mirror that night…the windburn on my face looked terrible, all brown and scabby and my entire face was very swollen. One of the medics had a look at it the next morning though, and did not seem overly concerned about it, so neither was I. Sadly, we were not sleeping in the nice toasty cabin this night, it was off to the teepees and the reindeer pelts again.


Bright and sunny on stage 2

Stage 3 was the day of the endless lake. It started out nice enough, through some pretty forested areas, but about half way into the stage was the very, very long lake. I am told this lake is 40 km long, and for the last half of stage 3, we traversed around 20km of it. 20km of flat, you can see forever, lake. It seemed endless….just an endless expanse of soft, mushy snow, going on forever. I got through this part of the stage by counting trail markers…100 markers, take a drink, 100 more markers, have a snack, repeat, repeat, repeat. Half way through the lake section was a checkpoint, at which RD Kris told me, just around the next bend you will start to see the red flags of the next camp. Well, that was a lie because it was much, much farther before I started seeing the flags, but when I did, it gave me hope that this stage was almost over. The camp for the night was a beautiful set of little cabins on an island in the middle of the lake. A large, warm cabin awaited for eating and socializing, and then small 3 person cabins, complete with a wood stove and real beds was home for the night. We unintentionally turned our little cabin into a sauna by stoking the fire a little too much, but truthfully I didn’t mind, because the heat felt so nice after being out in the cold for so long.


“As soon as you get up there, you’ll start to see the flags” Not.

Stage 4 was the long day…64 km, and some time during the night it had started snowing. The snow continued to fall for the entire day. I have to say, I really enjoyed stage 4, well the first 50 or so km of it anyway. The trail wound its way through forests and across lakes all day, and the snow fell all day. I felt really good this day and my spirits were high. There was a short course cut off for those who did not make it to the 50 km checkpoint by 8:00 pm, but this wasn’t an issue for me, I made it there with plenty of time to spare. After the 50 km mark however, the route got significantly more difficult. It got dark and colder, there was a fairly substantial hill to climb, and because the snow had been falling the entire day, the track was deep and soft, which made for some very tough going. At one of the checkpoints I was told that at the end of the stage there was a lake with surface water. The dreaded surface water. We actually had been very lucky this year and had not encountered surface water yet, unlike last year’s racers who faced it on almost every stage. The thing is, the surface water is not actually water, but is very heavy, wet slush on top of the ice. You put your foot down on what you think is firm snow, and next thing you know, you are up to your knees in this heavy, wet slush. There were times when I feared I was stuck because I was still wearing my snowshoes, and it was very, very difficult to pull my foot out of the slush with my tired legs. So, with each step, legs and feet were immersed in freezing cold water, and for the only time on the entire race, my feet got cold. This lake section was only around 500 meters long, but it was such slow going and felt like it lasted forever. To top it off, I could see the lights and buildings of the finish taunting me ahead.


Beautiful, snow terrain of stage 4

When I got to the stage finish, I still felt pretty good. I went inside the heated building and started getting something warm to eat and drink. Suddenly though, I started shivering and shivering and felt incapacitated by cold. The Exile Medics team were right on top of it though, getting me my night bag, helping me to get out of my cold, wet clothing and shoes and get my warm night clothes on, giving me one of their big warm down Yeti suits to wear, bringing me warm drinks and hot packs, and just generally taking excellent care of me. They put me by the wood stove, where I lay there shivering for literally several hours before I eventually warmed up. From what I understand, this was likely caused by warm blood leaving my core to go and try and save my freezing extremities, combined with caloric deficit and extreme fatigue. It is very common for me to get really cold after extended sessions, but I have never experienced anything like this before! By the time I warmed up enough to be released by medical, it was very late. Home for the night was a very large teepee with a wooden floor heated by a wood stove. From all accounts, it was not actually very much warmer than outside, however, I had been allowed to stay and sleep in the building that was being used by the medics, only slightly warmer than the teepee, but my big sleeping bag kept me toasty again. After just a few hours sleep, it was time to get up for the final day.

There was a feeling of excitement in the air as everyone prepared for the final stage, just 15 km. First though, we had to go back across the lake. Thankfully, some of our faithful Sami crew had found us a path that would avoid the surface water. Still, we all set off in single file as nobody wanted to take the chance of getting their feet wet! After the lake we climbed a big hill, then a big, super fun downhill run in the soft, fresh snow. After that it was winding our way around the edges of Jokkmokk before coming right in through the town to the finish line. It is always an exciting and euphoric feeling to come across the line at the end of a big event, and this was no different. There were congratulatory hugs, cold beer, and delicious rotisserie chicken waiting at the finish line before we were driven to our cabins for the night, where hot showers and soft beds waited.


Finish line!

The after party was full of good food and drink, much laughter and tales of the trail before the bus ride to Lulea the next morning, where we bade farewell to friends old and new until next time. One of the things I love most about these adventures are the people I meet along the way. I love my ultra running family, and each time I do a new race, I add new members to it, and I just love how my family is growing. I love showing up at a race and seeing familiar faces. I love how my ultra family, which used to be just local, has become international. Everyone has their own story, their own reasons for being out there, and even though we are all facing our own challenges and walking our own paths, we are united for this short time we are together and we all become a part of each others stories. I love that.

If you have managed to read this far, I thank you for that because I know it is very long, and I thank you for letting me share my journey with you. If you would like more information about Beyond the Ultimate and its races, drop me a line and I’ll try and tell you what you want to know. Thanks for reading.

Just keep moving forward.

Photo crew to the incredible Mikkel Beisner

Third time lucky?

Third time’s the charm? Well I hope so because I just registered for my third attempt at a 100 miler. This time the attempt will be made at the beautiful and challenging Sinister 7 Ultra. I am hoping I can carry some of the things I have learned along the way into this 100 mile attempt, some things that I learned not only in my past failures at this distance, but also some things I have learned in my successes at other distances. I know I have said this before, but I really try to take something away from each race experience. Whether I have been successful or not, there is always something to learn, something to take away and apply to future endeavors. So, here are some things I have learned that I am going to try to bring to this race.

The first lesson is you can’t cheat the training. When you get a bit overconfident or a bit blasé, it is easy to think you can cheat the training. This is exactly what happened to me in my last attempt at 100 miles. I didn’t even realize until after it was over that this had happened, but in the 20/20 of hindsight, I know that my training was insufficient. I did not respect the race or the distance, and the outcome was exactly what you could expect with the level of training I did. Lesson learned. Always respect the distance and train accordingly.

The second less I have learned, or at least been harshly reminded of, is you can’t cheat your nutrition. This harsh reminder came to me at the past September’s Grand to Grand Ultra, on day 3, the long stage. On the long day, it was very hot. I didn’t feel like eating, so I cheated it. Sometime in the afternoon, my brain started telling me to quit. It started telling me that I couldn’t do it, that I didn’t even want to do it, that I should just stop and lay down in the shade. I started crying, big ugly sobs, and all I wanted to do was quit. I felt so done. I made it to the next checkpoint, where I was able to sit in the shade and devour a big bag of candy. Well, that made all the difference in the world. After about 15 minutes of sitting and ingesting pure sugar, I was ready to roll again. All my defeatist thoughts were gone, I knew I could do it, I wanted to do it, and I did do it! Once I had my brain back in gear and started to think about what had happened, I realized that I had not been eating enough that day. It was hot and I didn’t feel like eating, so I began skipping my snacks. There is a reason why we make a nutrition plan, and when we don’t follow it, the results can be disastrous. Luckily I was able to save the day this time, and it was certainly a good reminder to stick to the plan, even when I don’t feel like it.


The third lesson that I have gradually been learning is to break a long race or stage of a race down into more manageable chunks. When you look at the big picture, the whole distance, it can become overwhelming. I think this happened to some degree at my last 100 mile attempt. When David and I were talking about packing it in, all we could see was the big distance left to cover. In that wonderful perfect vision of hindsight, I can’t help but wonder if we’d broken it down into smaller segments, just worried about getting to the next checkpoint rather than thinking about the 60 or so km still left to cover, we might have had a better chance. I don’t really know because there was also the whole poor training thing, but maybe? Since then, I have really tried to focus on more of a checkpoint-to-checkpoint way of thinking. At Grand to Grand, my mantra every day was checkpoint-to-checkpoint. Others would be talking about how far the stage was, but I just kept my mind focused on the distance between checkpoints. It just seemed so much more manageable that way.

So, in the months to come, I need to remind myself of these lessons. Also, I will have a lot more practice at them by race day because I also plan to use them to get me through the Ice Ultra in February. I really want to be successful at 100 miles this time, but I also know that if for some reason I am not, well, it won’t be the end of the world. There are always lessons to be learned and applied, in all aspects of life. We just need to recognize them, and act on them.

Just keep moving forward.


1, 2, 3, Go! …or how to stay motivated in the off season

So all your summer and fall races are done. Maybe you’re signed up for some races next year, but it’s too soon to start a training plan for them yet. It’s the off season. That in between time when you’re not really training for anything. Sometimes during this period it can be hard to stay motivated to get out on your daily run. Here are some things I came up with to help get you out the door during your off season.

  1. First of all, be kind to yourself. If you’ve trained hard since spring to get ready for your summer and fall races, your body likely needs a bit of a break. So, take it easy. Don’t feel like you need to get out there and go full bore every single run. Go shorter distances than you have been. Run easier. Leave your watch at home. Skip the speed work and the hill training for awhile. Take the time to remember what you love about running, and just do that.
  1. Mix it up. The off season is the perfect opportunity to get back to all of those activities that you love, but have put on the back burner during racing season. Get out your bike and go for a ride. Go hiking and see the fall colours. Take that class at your local gym that you’ve been wanting to try out. Go for a long walk and rediscover your neighbourhood. Once the snow flies, get out your snowshoes or cross-country skies. It doesn’t matter what you do, just do something that you enjoy.


  1. If you’re one of those people that just can’t do without a plan, now is the time to reflect on your past season and think about the highs and lows, where your strengths and weaknesses were, and where you would like to see yourself in the coming season. Make a plan to improve those weaknesses and write it down. Formulate some workouts that can help you develop in those areas where you’d like to see improvement, and work them into your plan. Sometimes just having a to-do list is all it takes to get out the door.
  1. Sometimes lack of motivation has to do with the weather. Once it turns cold and wintry outside, it can be easier to stay inside snuggled underneath the covers rather than brave a morning run. Get a little retail therapy and invest in some cold-weather running gear that you really love. Not only will it keep you warm and comfortable out there, but who doesn’t like putting on a piece of clothing that looks and feels great? A good pair of winter running shoes or one of the many available traction devices can help you keep your grip on ice and snow covered pathways.

So, as the previous running season fades away, use these tips to keep up your motivation and keep your fitness going until it is time to start training for your next race. Just keep moving forward.


Those dreaded letters….DNF. Did not finish. In the world of ultrarunning, or any endurance sport for that matter, it is usually only a matter of time before sooner or later, you see those letters beside your name on the race results page. Sometimes, you feel devastated by it. You’ve trained hard and long for an event, but then, for whatever reason, you are unable to complete it. The first time I experienced a DNF, I was devastated. My first DNF was hot on the heels of my dead last place finish at my first ever ultra…I did not get off to a good start in this sport.

It was at the Canadian Death Race, and I missed a time cut-off. Anyone who knows about the Death Race knows about this time cut-off after the third leg. It is a tough, arbitrary cut off time, in my opinion presumably made to make the race appear harder. A lower finisher rate = a race that seems much more difficult. Now don’t get me wrong, the Canadian Death Race is no walk in the park. It is a very hard race, but in many cases, mine included, people who could otherwise have no problem going on to finish this race often miss that cut-off, sometimes only by minutes. The CDR was my first really big ultra, and yes, I was totally devastated when I didn’t make the cut-off. I cried hard, ugly tears because I knew I could’ve gone on to finish the race. But, that’s how it goes, cut-offs are there and either you make them or you don’t.

The next time I DNF’d was still very hard, but not quite as devastating to me. It was at the Sinister 7  ultra, another really big race for me. It was a little bit easier for me because I made the decision myself to drop out, rather than someone telling me I had to drop out. I went into it with a hip injury, and then my stomach decided it was not going to cooperate with me that day. I went for as long as I physically could, but ultimately knew I wasn’t going to make it to the end, so I made the hard decision and dropped. I only cried a little bit that time.

Since then, there have been two other DNF’s at long, tough races. Once because I got injured during the race, and once because my mind gave up. Incidentally these were both at the same 100-miler, the Lost Soul in Lethbridge. The injury….well, what are you going to do? But the other, well, I keep looking back and regretting that decision. At the time though, it was the only decision I could make. People say ultra marathons are 90% mental, so when the mind gives up, it can be very difficult to get it back.

So, fast forward to last weekend. Last weekend I ran in the Grizzly Ultra  50k race. This is fresh off my finish at the 273km long Grand to Grand ultra, which wrapped up just a week prior to toeing the starting line at the Grizzly. So, to be fair, when I registered for the Grizzly, I had a calendar mistake and thought I had 2 weeks in between that and G2G. In reality, it was just a week, so I knew going into the Grizzly that it could go either way. It was for sure less than ideal conditions…my lingering fatigue from not only G2G, but from an entire season of long, hard races, blizzard conditions that almost caused us to turn back on the drive out there, cold, slushy, muddy trails etc. I know the trail conditions were the same for everyone, but in my fatigued state it seemed much more of a slog than it should have. At one point, I came across a downed runner and stayed there with her for awhile, long enough to become very cold, which I never really recovered from either. So, after 25k, I made the decision to drop out. This time, the decision was actually a pretty easy one. As I had been running a long downhill into the check-point area, my legs had simply been saying “nope”. My knees hurt, my hips hurt, and I just wasn’t having fun. Now I know that ultra running is not always fun, but to some degree it has to be, or we would never stay out there. This was no degree of fun. Cold, wet, tired, legs not cooperating? Totally time to pack it in. So, I made the decision and I actually felt fine about it. People were telling me they were sorry, but I was just glad to be somewhere warm. I didn’t even cry.


I think part of being a seasoned runner is being smart enough to know when to say “it’s not my day” and pack it in, and when you can push through and keep going. Yes, I probably could have gutted it out and finished the 50k, but that would not have been the right decision on that day. No point getting injured, I need to live to run another day. Other times, well, maybe I could have done something different and saved the day. It’s hard to say. It’s really easy to look back second guess yourself, but at the time, you are making the only decision that seems right.

I look at each race as a learning experience and try to take something away each time. Yesterday’s lesson was one I already knew going in…it’s too soon. Not enough recovery. I can’t do all the races, as much as I might want to. But, I’m still glad I went out and tried, because if we don’t try, we don’t learn the lessons. And there’s always next year.

Just keep moving forward.


photo credit to Julia Mitton

Another adventure on the way…

So, I did the thing again. Closed my eyes, hit send, and promptly went into panic mode. Then I went running downstairs to where my daughter Clare was watching television, and with my heart pounding and panic in my voice I said “Clare, I just did something”. Without skipping a beat her reply was “What did you sign up for?” Yes, my family knows me so well.

This time, I accidently signed up for Beyond the Ultimate’s Desert Ultra in November 2017. A mere 250 km over 5 stages in the Namib Desert in southern Africa. Self-supported of course. Only this time, I guess it wasn’t quite as accidental as it often is. This time I thought about it first. Actually, I thought about it for quite some time. I read the stage information, looked at the map to find out where Namibia even is, even checked flights to find out how long it would take me to travel there. I actually thought about it for a few weeks. I wanted to do it, but something was holding me back. What exactly was holding me back, I am not sure. Well, it is going to be hard. I mean, the long stage is 100km! 100 km is long even when it is all by itself, let alone on the 4th day, after already having gone 135 km in the previous 3 days. But then again, they are all hard and that hasn’t held me back before. Maybe it was because Namibia is really far away from home. I have never been that far away before, but then again, Peru is pretty far away too and that never stopped me. Maybe I was having doubts about my ability to complete such a task? I don’t know, not consciously, but maybe. I have had doubts before, but that never stopped me. So, I thought about it, and visited and revisited the BTU website, read and re-read the stage information that I had asked for to help me make my decision, and I just kind of let the idea fester in my brain, still unsure.


Actually, I think it was to my detriment that I actually thought this one through. Usually I just grab onto an idea and go with it before I have had a chance to think it through, and save all the doubt and worry for when its already a done deal. Not this time though. I have had all this time to think of the what-ifs before I even signed up. One of the hallmarks of anxiety is asking yourself “what if” questions a hundred times a day…what if it’s too hard, what if it’s too hot, what if I fail, what if I don’t like it there, and on and on and on. Things that sometimes seem totally ridiculous when you actually stop and consider them (what if I get eaten by a cheetah?). One day though, I sat myself down (not actually, I do all my best thinking while out running) and asked myself what was actually holding me back? It is a question I have often asked others when they have been faced with a decision. What’s holding you back? So I asked myself, “Self, what’s holding you back?” And I thought through all the things I mentioned above, all the crazy what ifs…it will be hard, it is far away, it will be hot, what if I can’t do it? And then I answered them all….yes it will be hard, but I can do hard. Yes it is far away, but I have wanted to visit Africa since I was old enough to know what Africa was, and in this day and age, let’s face it, far doesn’t matter. I can stay in touch with those at home almost as easily from Namibia as I can from down the street. Yes, it will be hot, but by now I am a pro at heat acclimation. Which brought me to the last one….what if I can’t do it? Well, my answer to that is, what if I can? I will never know the answer to that without giving it a shot, now will I? So, what was holding me back? Nothing really. Just my own insecurities and anxious mind. And as I have said before, I work really hard at not letting those things define or confine me. Yes, it is scary, but most of the time scary things are worth doing. And I have often said we need to seize the moment and not put off the things that we want to do, because you never know what life will bring you.

So, when I got home from my run that day, I sent David a quick text telling him I was going to sign up, he replied with a short, sweet “ok”, and I filled in the form, closed my eyes and hit send. Then panicked. But a funny thing happened. Once I got over my initial panic, I felt like everything was going to be ok. Then I put the Desert Ultra into a compartment in the back of my mind for awhile, because right now I’ve got other things to worry about. In just over 2 weeks I will be toeing the starting line of the Grand to Grand Ultra, and in February I will be heading off to Sweden to play in the snow at the Ice Ultra. I think I need to give my backpack a name, because it looks like it wont be leaving my back anytime soon.

So, what’s holding you back?

Just keep moving forward.


photo cred to Beyond the Ultimate


Iron Legs race report

So, last weekend I ran in the Iron Legs 50 trail race. This race has a 50-mile distance, which is actually 54 miles, and a 60 km distance. Both have significant elevation gain…14 000 feet for the 50 mile, and I am guessing probably around 9 or 10 000 for the 60 km. Last year I ran the 60 km, so I thought I would give the 50-miler a go this year. Sadly though, things don’t always turn out as you had planned.

The morning started out great. The weather was perfect, I chatted with some friends before the start, and I was excited for the day ahead of me. At 6:00 am, off we went. The course is divided up into 5 legs for the 60 km, and 7 legs for the 50 mile. Leg 1 is probably the easiest, not too technical and with the least amount of elevation gain. I cruised through it and felt really good. I have been doing a ton of training with my 25 lb pack, getting ready for Grand to Grand next month, so running on the trails without that weight on my back felt great. I breezed through checkpoint 1, and off I went onto leg 2.

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Leg 2 gets a lot more technical and difficult, with a big climb up to the top of Powderface Ridge. Up, up I went, still feeling really good. When I got to the top I stopped and took some photos because the view from up there is stunning. This is where I ran into some problems. I was going along, enjoying the view, and apparently not paying enough attention to where I was going. Now, somewhat in my defense, the only other time I have ever been up on that ridge was during last year’s Iron Legs, and it was snowing, so I was not at all familiar with the trail and it looked entirely different this year. So, I was making my way along the ridge, following the pink flagging tape that was being used as trail markers. The ground was quite rocky so the trail was not all that distinct, but I could see two other runners up ahead of me on the ridge, so I thought nothing of it when I hadn’t seen a flag for a few minutes. I kept forging ahead, when I saw the two runners turning around and looking for markers. I immediately turned around to see if I could spot any markers behind me, and though I couldn’t, there were 3 more runners coming up behind me, so I believed I was still on course. We all caught up together and began discussing whether or not we were on course, and looking around for flags. One of the runners set out to scope around for a flag, and we never saw him again. The ground was quite rocky and rough, and though I didn’t remember it being like that from last year, I still wasn’t too concerned. As the ground became rougher and we were scrambling over big boulders, I was sure it was wrong, and just as I was about to turn back, one of the guys in our little group spotted a piece of pink flagging tape hanging from a branch further up the ridge, so we decided we were still sort of on course, and off we went towards it.

When we reached the flag, the trail was very indistinct, but since there was a flag, we all thought it must be right. The ground got rougher and the rocks bigger, and I knew it just couldn’t be right. I kept saying “this can’t be right, I’d remember this from last year”, but every once in awhile, we’d spot another piece of flagging tape and tell ourselves we were still on the right track. We went on like this for quite some time, but after an hour or so, it because all too evident that there was no trail and we were way, way off course. So, at that time we needed to make a decision. Someone in the group had a map, and we could see that the actual trail followed the ridgeline all the way down to the road. I pulled out my phone to see if there was cell service, and lo and behold, there was. I had my sister and my mother crewing for me, so I called each of them only to have them both go directly to voice mail. I had service, but they did not. Collectively we decided that it would be just as far to go back as to keep going down the ridge, so forward down the ridge it was, first scrambling dangerously over large rocks, then through thick underbrush and fallen trees. At one point we could hear voices coming from down below, and though we called to them, we heard nothing back. As it turns out, the voices were coming from the second checkpoint. When I am out doing a race, I have a call that I use to notify my crew that I am close, so when we heard the voices, I gave “the call”…a loud “ooo-hoo”, because I know this call can be heard from a distance, but again, we heard nothing back. As it turns out, my crew did hear me and called back, but I did not hear it.


We carried on down the ridgeline through the fallen trees and bushes, finally, after 2 hours, popping out on the road not 200 meters from checkpoint 2. I saw my mother walking up the road to me, then my sister coming down the trail where I should have been. Understandably so, they were very relieved to see me. They had been expecting me more than 90 minutes past, and thought that I must be injured because I was so late getting to the checkpoint. I was very frustrated an angry, mostly at myself, and I knew that the chance of making the time cut off for the chance to run the long course was well out of my reach by this point. I decided that I would still carry on and do the shorter 60 km course. One of our group of 5 opted not to continue at this point, but the rest of us got a snack and filled our bottles, and set off for the next leg, the dreaded Ford Creek trail. The trail soon began to climb, and I was still angry so I rage-climbed and before too long had left the others behind. After awhile I stopped being angry and just began enjoying my day again. Ford Creek trail is steep and technical, and the day was growing quite warm. At one point I came across another runner who had run out of water and was drinking from the creek. I offered him some of my water, but he declined. I was secretly glad he declined because I was running a bit low myself. He told me that he also had missed the trail up on Powderface Ridge, only unlike me, he was smart enough to turn back when he realized something wasn’t right. I passed another runner along the way, and we chatted for a minute, but I soon left her behind as well. When I was about 30 minutes out of the checkpoint, I ran out of water. I didn’t actually know how far out I still was, but I kept telling myself it couldn’t be too much further. When I thought I was never going to get there, I decided to give the call, just too see if I could tell how far away I was. Well, lo and behold, my call was answered from right around the corner and I had reached the next checkpoint.

I fueled up and filled my bottles and set off again, ready to climb back up Powderface and come back down the other side. My crew had told me they were calling it a day, which was fine. They had had a long day out there waiting around for me, so I didn’t mind that they wanted to go. Up, up I climbed, then down the steep technical return to the parking lot where the next checkpoint was set up. Something happened along the way though. As often happens to me in a long race, I hit a low patch. I wasn’t even too far out from the checkpoint, but the negative part of my brain started taking over. I was tired, I wasn’t having fun, I was frustrated and mad at myself for making a mistake and now not being able to run the long course, I wanted to be done, I never wanted to do anything like this again, all of the negative self talk was happening and I decided I was going to drop out at the next checkpoint. Just as I had made this decision, I came around a corner, and there was my crew standing on the trail waiting for me, cheering me on. I started holding back the tears and told them I was thinking about dropping, but now that they were there I wasn’t sure any more. They encouraged me, and the wonderful volunteers at the checkpoint got me some food and some water. I was still waffling a little bit when one of the volunteers said “Well, you’ve gone this far, you might as well finish it off”. That was what finally did it for me, so off I went for the last leg. I am quite sure that had my crew not been there, my day would have been over, and I am also quite sure that had that happened, I would have regretted it.

I felt a renewed sense of energy setting off on the last leg. I had one giant climb left, and then after that it was clear sailing. I had been dreading that climb, and it was part of the reason I had been thinking about dropping. Once I got to it though, it wasn’t nearly as bad as I had been anticipating. I got to the top and then ran pretty much the rest of the way in. I suddenly felt great again, and had no problem finishing off the leg. My mother was waiting for me at the finish line, always my biggest cheerleader, and I was done.


I always think I learn something from each race I run. This time there were a couple of things. The first lesson I already knew, but it was good to be reminded of, and as I often find, running is a good metaphor for life in general. This lesson is that whenever you hit a really low spot, if you can make it through to the other side , things always look better. When you’re in the middle of it, it can be hard to see the other side, but it is always there, you just have to fight through. The second lesson I learned was to trust my instincts. Up there on that ridge, I knew it wasn’t right, but since we kept seeing the pink flagging tape (and I still don’t know what that tape was supposed to be marking), I kept going. My instincts were right and I should have turned back. But I didn’t. And that’s ok, because I learned a good lesson. Oh, and that guy that disappeared on us at the top of the ridge when we were looking for the trail, well we found out later that he found the trail but rather than spend 2 minutes coming back to tell us, he just kept going. So, thank you unknown runner for that bit of sportsmanship.

As my friend Majo said to me later, any day in the mountains is a good day. And, it was a good day, just not the day I had planned. And I’ll be back to tackle the 50 miles another time. Just keep moving forward.