Fatdog 100km
cut from the dawg
i live inside the question; CAN i? my spirit awakening as i dream up a grand vision. my patience and commitment to training has lead me here. i’m about the run the 100km at FATDOG, and if i have my best day, i believe i can break into my dreamland.
“it’s 5am” i heard from the tent next to mine, my sister Zoe announcing our wakeup time like the owl of an old grandfather clock. i woke up in a cool damp tent with my dog, wiping the crust from my eyes, it was cool, it was perfect. the Lightning Lake Campground slowly coming alive in the pre-sunrise glow. the smell of instant coffee was unappealing, my stomach on edge but willing to accept a bagel and a half toasted with a little bit of butter. the vibes from my wonderful crew were infectious. Scott, my crew captain, buzzed with excitement as we had breakfast, my wife Hillary collected the nerves of everyone as we packed up and got into the car, she’s the rock, she feels the most, and channels raw emotion so eloquently. Scott’s wife Laura was taking it all in, her eyes grew wide as i put my pack together, and checked that all my gear was in order. we didn’t chat about the race, we just had a causal morning, and set off for the start line.
stepping out of the car, the frizziness of Laura’s curly hair gets in the way of her ears as she starts singing the wrong song that was blasting through the start line speakers at the Cascade Rec Area. funny enough the song she was singing is played next and we all giggled, breaking the tension of the start line. there was little to say, my senses to my surroundings were dull as i walked through the maze of my mind, i’ve ran this race every night as i’ve fallen asleep for the last 2 months, how was it going to play out in reality. one more walk through. one more sip of water. deep breath in, deep breath out.
I hugged my crew, Zoe first, with our inside joke; “good luck and have fun”, Laura with tears in the corners of her eyes; “you got this”, Scott staring into my soul giving me his energy and wisdom holds me tight in silence. lastly Hillary and i with our pre-race ritual, a double high-five into a kiss and a hug, i think she’s more nervous than i am. nothing left to do but run. we are corralled into the starting shoot, i stand a couple rows from the front and i catch a glimpse of my friend Kelly as she pushes her way to get closer to the start; “don’t go out too fast bud” she whispered at me with a wink.
i want to finish before sunset. the gun goes off at 7:30 am. instant relief. and a mad dash to get into a good position, if only i could put myself in the top 20, and settle in. if only. i moved towards the front of the race. mix it up. CAN i hang? we turned off the forest service road and got onto the Skagit Bluffs trail, cars honking as they rolled down the highway. an epic start sending shivers down my spine, i grinned in ecstasy and tried to settle in. i’m sitting silently in 5th place behind Brady and Mike as they chat. i didn’t think we were moving all that quick, and i chalked it up to early race antics, but my heart rate was higher than i wanted it to be, we ran through the first aid station at Cayuse Flats 15min faster than i had planed.
a group of six formed as we continued to roll with the fluctuations of the trail, the dense conifers and large ferns were keeping the heat at bay. i had shed some of my shyness and began to chat with my competitors, everything was jovial and light, i quipped “i defiantly don’t belong up here”. i made this comment and checked my heart rate, still a little high. i began to think i should have listened to Kelly. getting to the Granger Creek aid station at 13km i decided to take my time, and start running my race. i didn’t have much of a choice, i looked up after filling my bottle and everyone was gone. alone on the Hope Pass trail.
apply named as i was losing hope fast, not even 20km in and i couldn’t do what i trained so hard to do. climb! run every step. i couldn’t. there was a tether around my ankles with weights dragging in the dust behind me. run twenty steps, walk forty. i could keep moving. i could keep stepping. but runners began to come up on me, and overtake me, i couldn’t latch on. i was eating based on going out slower and being in better control of the heart rate. i just needed to slow the race down, i needed to process what i was eating. the trail weaves alongside the Skaist River sometimes visible through the trees as it roils from below, and others times just a quiet bubbling in the distance. from 20km-25km i was alone climbing up to Hope Pass and committed to the process, lower the heart rate, keep stepping, and think about the joys of seeing the crew for the first time. just get to Hope.
a couple downhill kilometres before rolling into Hope Pass aid Station got my legs moving again. I see my friend, Micheal who just won the Brokenagan BYU for the third year in a row, he’s pacing someone in the 120mile race, we have a huge hug, tight, i can feel his boundless positivity entering my frail bones. i think he sensed i needed it. minutes later i see Zoe’s bright red hair and purple sweatshirt jumping up and down on the edge of the trail, i’m there, i’ve made to Hope. it’s loud, it’s busy. my crew are now wearing matching white bucket hats and white bandana’s. theres a sense of loss in my eyes, i tell my crew i need to be patient and go into the next section confident. there is about 15km between each the next two aid stations. the vibes are high, i am ahead of schedule, but i wanted to get here full of energy and i was a shell, depleted old bones in a skin bag. i didn’t let that stop the vibes from infecting me, as tradition, everyone in the crew gets a hug before i head off.
i was excited for this next section, big rolling hills in the high country, through patches of wildflower meadows and dense conifers. peaks in the distance piercing the sky, never getting any closer. i linked up with a kiwi on the way to the Nicomen Lake trail, we were moving really well. i was unburdened by the loss of 15 or so places, and just stayed committed to my strengths, stay present, take in my surroundings, have fun and run smooth and easy. shallow climbs into the meadows were followed by long flowing descents into a thicker wood. with every kiwi i meet i eventually end up talking about New Zealand’s fourth most popular guitar-based digi-bongo acapella-gangsta-rap-funk-folk comedy duo, the Flight of the Concords. and was feeling good enough to belt out some songs as we made our way into Nicomen Aid Station at 40km. the guy probably hated me.
They call me the Hiphopopotamus
My lyrics are bottomless
…
They call me the Hiphopopotamus
Flows that glow like phosphorous
Poppin' off the top of this esophagus
Rockin' this metropolis
I'm not a large water-dwelling mammal
Where did you get that preposterous hypothesis?
Did Steve tell you that, perchance? STEVE…
Hiphopopotamus vs. Rhymenoceros, Flight of the Conchords
Nicomen aid station is one of the most remote aids in off ultra running, the team needs to horse pack all the supplies in and camp. it’s busy, the other events are all intercepting and they are out of water, i head to the lake and filter my own water, making sure to chug a litre before heading out. climbing out of Nicomen i catch up to a friend running the 50miler. Morgan is climbing great, seems like we are having a day, doing the thing. a wave of positivity hit and i began to roll with the ups and downs, i’ve finally made it to the Heather trail. endless reds, whites and yellows wave with the grasses. i haven’t felt this good all day. i was part the landscape i was running through, my heartbeat ebbed along with the trail ahead of me.
i was staring at my feet as i hiked along without comprehension of what was happening, my feet alternating in the frame of brown dirt bordered by a thin green strip. i wasn’t myself, i’m not taking in where i am and what i’m doing. i’m looking at my feet, i’m walking, i’m not asking if i CAN. where have i sunk too, i feel those weights pulling straight down sinking into the earth. the sun now peaking in the sky, its rays pushing me deeper into the earth.
wrestling with the darkness, i try and get myself out of this trench, i keep my eyes focused on the landscape, a whales back of rock arches out of the waves of green, picturesque conifers stand behind, and further in the distance columnar towers pierce the sky. i hear my name being screamed at me from behind and i’m instantly brought back to the task. the trail provides. and a friend runs up on me. it’s Kelly, my neighbour and competitor in this 100km race. as quickly as i settled into my depression i am brought out of the trenches; the sun doesn’t feel so heavy. theres a lightness to my step. she tells me we are just a couple kilometres to the Heather aid station, and i can see it over the next rise. quickly filling up and getting back on the trail we kick things into gear. simple conversation ensues, the highs and lows of the day. i’ve shared a lot of miles with Kelly, pacing her last year for 17 hours as we death marched 50km of the 120mile race, and the countless hours on our home trails in Squamish. we know how to motivate each other, and how to keep moving forward. the trail titled downward, we got into a great groove, a couple kilometres tick by and we are greeted by a gentle rise. Blackwall approaches.
the Heather trail spills onto Blackwall road. a quad killer, 13km of downhill gravel and paved road. more importantly my crew. last time i saw them was at Hope Pass only 28km into the race, i was now approaching 70km. i pulled away from Kelly descending the first section of Blackwall heading into the aid station, i needed to make a plan. I wanted to change my shoes, and have an honest conversation with my crew. i turn the last corner and see my crew has made a sign. be grateful, be inspired, be riley (be better). Laura has tears in her eyes, Hill is full of stoke holding back her anxiety of my effort, Scott is focused, with laser vision, knows what i want before i say, i slip on some comfy road shoes. i stay patient and stick to my plan, i shared the highs and lows of the last 40km. Kelly takes off down the road before me, my friend Adam blooms out of nowhere with the positivity of a wildflower, and begins to snap photos of the action. another incredible hug. the lows still weighing on me, would they continue to haunt?
Zoe stands to the side wearing a pack full of the races essential gear, she’s about to pace me, eyes full of wonder and fear. She’s a pretty good road runner, more than up to the task of ripping down Blackwall road. But i don’t think she’s ever seen her older brother like this. worn from 70km of racing, in fight or flight. she doesn’t seem to be affected by it, and takes off pushing the pace. she’s on a mission to get me back into this race.
every kilometre is faster than the previous as we stormed down Blackwall road. we started passing runners, we can see Kelly in the distance, she just took the lead! the quads took a beating as we pressed on, the black asphalt reeled beneath our feet. we finally caught up to Kelly, our crews driving by honking and yelling. we kept up our torrid pace as the road finally settled and we crossed the highway at Manning Park Lodge. the 1000m descent begins its manifestation into my soul. a quick stop at Windy Joe aid station, and Zoe and i head back out towards the Strawberry Flats aid station, just 8km up some easy runnable trails, but i can’t get a good turnover going. the loudness begins to grow, the pain is so debilitating i can think. my quads are screaming, Zo keeps us honest, we yoyo with a couple other 100km athletes. i want to break them but we can’t seem to break through. i can’t get any momentum.
it’s a crawl to Strawberry Flats aid station, i look at my watch and do some math, i have to be honest with myself, i have to be honest with my crew. i might finish well past sunset. i take a couple minutes, sit down, 17km to go. 10km up, 7km down. one kilometre at a time. I exchange Zoe, for Scott. we’ve ran thousands of kilometres together, he’ll get me to the finish. sunset threatens darkness as we head up the Skyline trail. the loudness in my quads doesn’t subside, i say to Scott, “i may not be able to run, but we can hike hard, keep me honest and push me when you can.” the trail is wide, well trodden, and the trees were strong with thick trunks reaching high. a dark patch of dirt lies ahead, Skyline trail is notorious for being dry, but cold mountain water leaked from the earth. we almost ran by the trickling spring, we scooped some up and i slowly sprinkled it on my head, neck, chest and face. Scott lead the charge.
dripping cold water over myself, i began to feel a change, it was gradual, but it was positive. Scott looked back at me, i knew he wanted me to run, i wanted just another minute. i could feel some positive momentum, the loudness that sung in my quads like buzzing bees trying to escape a plastic bag subsided. in a matter of minutes i went from being dragged up Skyline to pulling Scott along. i was alive, back from the dead. i tell Scott to grab a view of a lookout, this place, the magic. my body felt as it had running along the Skagit trail that morning, fresh and full of hope. my thoughts shifting back to the question i asked myself; CAN i? undoubtedly i CAN. we drive hard on the remaining climbs, relentlessly pushing. the granite towers i saw on Heather trail seem within reach, the mountains shadow creeping our visual frame. finally after all the false summits we start the descent.
something i can’t fully understand occurs, i’m watching myself tear down the trail. we’ve tip toed through the steep technical section of rock and loose dirt, out of the alpine and back into the thick trunked forest that descends into Lightning Lake. the trail is at the perfect grade to allow me to truly lose myself and float. i’m looking over myself as i fly down the hill. i have a realization, i had lent Scott one of my favourite books earlier this summer and he sent me a passage that reminded him of me. and there we were living the words.
Then suddenly everything was just like jazz: it happened in one insane second or so: I looked up and saw Japhy running down the mountain in huge twenty-foot leaps, running, leaping, landing with a great drive of his booted heels, bouncing five feet or so, running, then taking another long crazy yelling yodelaying sail down the sides of the world and in that flash I realized it's impossible to fall off mountains you fool and with a yodel of my own I suddenly got up and began running down the mountain after him doing exactly the same huge leaps, the same fantastic runs and jumps, and in the space of about five minutes I'd guess Japhy Ryder and I (in my sneakers, driving the heels of my sneakers right into sand, rock, boulders, I didn’t care any more I was so anxious to get down out of there) came leaping and yelling like mountain goats or I’d say like Chinese lunatics of a thousand years ago, enough to raise the hair on the head of the meditating Morley by the lake, who said he looked up and saw us flying down and couldn’t believe it. In fact with one of my greatest leaps and loudest screams of joy I came flying right down to the edge of the lake and dug my sneakered heels into the mud and just fell there, glad.
Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums.
i hear a thud behind me, a quick look back confirmed my suspicion, Scott had tripped and hit the dirt hard. i didn’t even slow, if anything i pushed harder, yelling back “you good?” i heard a faint response and kept on the gas as he caught up. maybe i had lied to my crew at Strawberry Flats, leaving i wasn’t expecting to finish before sunset. but the sun was very much still illuminating the sky. my surge of energy on the climb had flipped the script. we crossed the Rainbow Bridge. around the backside of the lake, the noise from the finish pulling us. and there stood the wooden arch.
thirteen hours and twenty three minutes. tenth place. it wasn’t my best day. somehow and in someway… i ascended into dreamland. found nirvana. the sublime, bliss, and euphoria. within minutes the sun dipped behind the mountains.
