When you have 3 symptoms of a heart attack in the first 8 km of a grueling 30 mile race, there is nothing to do but dial it back and pull out at your first opportunity. I knew this and still I wondered after the fact, what if I had kept going? Could I have finished? The symptoms weren't that bad, were they? I mean, I'm totally fine now. Why did I stop? I hate the mental anguish after a DNF because 9 times out of 10, you made the right call in the moment. And honestly, even that 10th time is the right call because every 'wrong' decision made in a race becomes a learning experience for the next battle. And boy did I learn some things this year.
This would be my 3rd Knee Knacker start line, and had I not finished my first Knee Knacker in a blaze of glory just under the 10 hour cut off, I would seriously be wondering if this race was a little out of my league. Last year, my second go round, leading up to race day was a non-stop battle with injuries. I knew I was under-trained and odds of finishing were slim to none. But I was still going to give it my all and have fun. This year I was healthy and had some great 8+ hour adventures under my belt. I thought I was ready. My biggest fear wasn't DNF'ing. It was disappointing everyone involved with the race and bringing down their amazing finisher percentage. I know it's meant as a positive thing. It motivates you to know that so many others have finished before you, but jesus the pressure of being that one that doesn't, lowering the percentile a second year in a row. For the past 3 years I have been fortunate enough to be given a coveted spot in the race for my fundraising efforts for the North Shore Search & Rescue Team. There has been no lottery day stress for me in the past three years, and because of that I was feeling like I HAD to finish. There are a very limited number of guaranteed spots in this race and I didn't want anyone thinking that giving it to me was a wasted spot. I know this is ridiculous, but once it's in your head, no matter how many friends tell you how ridiculous you're being, it just keeps snowballing into the grandest Frosty the Snowman you've ever seen. Like, Stay Puff Marshmallow Man size. Plus, they're your friends, of course they'll tell you this. It's not until strangers involved with the race insist there are no expectations that you finally start to believe it's okay. My last big adventure day up Black Mountain, and boy was it a doozy, had two random meetups that left one hell of an impression with me.
I like to get a few practice sessions of the first half in, especially Black Mountain. But this year there was just so much snow. After hearing the snow was finally gone until just after Eagle Bluffs, and race day looming, it was now or never. As promised, the route was clear until after the Bluffs, and then it became a winter wonderland. At times, my feet were above the BP signs in the trees. It was beautiful, it was fun, and I was cursing not having a Krazy Karpet to ride down to the parking lot. Knowing the section between Cypress and Hollyburn was snowy as all hell and had a couple sketchy creek crossings, I had a reroute planned. I was going to bomb down Cypress Road and veer across to the Dam via Skyline. Flying down the road, I had a bike pull up next to me. She recognized me from a previous Knee Knacker. At one point I told her I feel like I'm letting everyone down if I don't finish because the spot was given to me. (Yeah, yeah...I know fundraising over $3,000 each time for NSR means I too earned my spot, but it's not earned in the lottery. Totally illogical, I know.) Anyways, this kind soul said to me, "Knee Knacker isn't about finishing. It's about the experience. It's about the journey. It's about the people." You know what? She nailed it. And being a stranger, it resonated so much more with me. I finally started to believe it. Eventually she rode away and I carried on down the hill. It was when I realized I missed my turnoff for Skyline Trail I brought out Google Maps. The lying sons of bitches at Google Maps. Remember? Adventure.
This would be my 3rd Knee Knacker start line, and had I not finished my first Knee Knacker in a blaze of glory just under the 10 hour cut off, I would seriously be wondering if this race was a little out of my league. Last year, my second go round, leading up to race day was a non-stop battle with injuries. I knew I was under-trained and odds of finishing were slim to none. But I was still going to give it my all and have fun. This year I was healthy and had some great 8+ hour adventures under my belt. I thought I was ready. My biggest fear wasn't DNF'ing. It was disappointing everyone involved with the race and bringing down their amazing finisher percentage. I know it's meant as a positive thing. It motivates you to know that so many others have finished before you, but jesus the pressure of being that one that doesn't, lowering the percentile a second year in a row. For the past 3 years I have been fortunate enough to be given a coveted spot in the race for my fundraising efforts for the North Shore Search & Rescue Team. There has been no lottery day stress for me in the past three years, and because of that I was feeling like I HAD to finish. There are a very limited number of guaranteed spots in this race and I didn't want anyone thinking that giving it to me was a wasted spot. I know this is ridiculous, but once it's in your head, no matter how many friends tell you how ridiculous you're being, it just keeps snowballing into the grandest Frosty the Snowman you've ever seen. Like, Stay Puff Marshmallow Man size. Plus, they're your friends, of course they'll tell you this. It's not until strangers involved with the race insist there are no expectations that you finally start to believe it's okay. My last big adventure day up Black Mountain, and boy was it a doozy, had two random meetups that left one hell of an impression with me.
I like to get a few practice sessions of the first half in, especially Black Mountain. But this year there was just so much snow. After hearing the snow was finally gone until just after Eagle Bluffs, and race day looming, it was now or never. As promised, the route was clear until after the Bluffs, and then it became a winter wonderland. At times, my feet were above the BP signs in the trees. It was beautiful, it was fun, and I was cursing not having a Krazy Karpet to ride down to the parking lot. Knowing the section between Cypress and Hollyburn was snowy as all hell and had a couple sketchy creek crossings, I had a reroute planned. I was going to bomb down Cypress Road and veer across to the Dam via Skyline. Flying down the road, I had a bike pull up next to me. She recognized me from a previous Knee Knacker. At one point I told her I feel like I'm letting everyone down if I don't finish because the spot was given to me. (Yeah, yeah...I know fundraising over $3,000 each time for NSR means I too earned my spot, but it's not earned in the lottery. Totally illogical, I know.) Anyways, this kind soul said to me, "Knee Knacker isn't about finishing. It's about the experience. It's about the journey. It's about the people." You know what? She nailed it. And being a stranger, it resonated so much more with me. I finally started to believe it. Eventually she rode away and I carried on down the hill. It was when I realized I missed my turnoff for Skyline Trail I brought out Google Maps. The lying sons of bitches at Google Maps. Remember? Adventure.
Okay, so I missed the Skyline turnoff, and the turnoff that could have gotten me scooching along above the British Properties. It's okay, Google Maps says if I just go down one more switchback, I can cut down this side road to Westmount Rd and cross the highway there. Phew, good thing, because I just took my last sip of liquid and it's bloody hot out. Hey Google! The fucking side road doesn't exist you Asshats. Now my dilemma. Do I climb back up and find the trail across to the Dam with no liquid, easily another hour or two? Do I head down to the bottom and hope to whatever the hell is out there that there's a sidewalk at some point? Or an overpass? I mean, there is an overpass...there's just no damn road I can access to get to it. Thanks Google. So down I go. I get to the bottom and wonder how far it really would be on the highway that I'd have to run. I saw a cop car and briefly hoped it was my ex. He'd mock me endlessly, but he'd give me a ride. And he might even have donuts. I was kind of getting hungry at this point too. Knowing folks are running Van100 this weekend, I thought maybe there's some crew up at Cypress still. I'll put a plea out on facebook and wait for a bit. Nope. I'm hot. I'm thirsty. And I'm about to cry because I'm so close to civilization, just one highway crossing away. So for the second desperate time in my life, I stick out my thumb. I figured, these people are cyclists and hikers. Someone is bound to stop. Nope. Just as I'm about to give up, sit on my ass and cry, I saw a car approach. I almost didn't put my thumb up. It was Karen. Photographer Coordinator Extraordinaire for race day Karen. She rolled down the window and I pled, "I just need to get across the highway." I hear, "I know you. You ran Knee Knacker." OMG! YES! She only stopped because I was wearing a Knee Knacker shirt. Note to self: Always wear a KK shirt when off on some crazy ass adventure. Karen was my second stranger that day to reassure me that I earned this spot and not finishing isn't a blight on my name or the race. Jesus, why do we let these head games rule ourselves? So after a day like this, I thought, how can I not be prepared for race day? I mean, this was one hell of a fucked up adventure. Race day will have way less obstacles than this. Again, I was ready.
Race day arrives and I'm giddy as a 6 year old on her way to an all you can eat cake fest with no adult supervision. Kelsey & Mert picked me and Margaret up, and off we went! This year I was especially excited. I had so many friends in the race who were similar to my slow ass pace. We don't just call ourselves back of the packers, we ARE back of the packers. For once, I'd have company. And yet, shortly after Whyte Lake when we start to really climb, I was alone. This is where the end of my race day began. I picked up my pace, hoping to catch up. Rookie Error #1 and I know better. Add in that I was seriously under fueled from the previous two week's head cold, and things were about to get worse. I had had a cold, clammy sweat for quite some time now. Coming up to the first tiny little scree where it really starts to get steep, I started to lose focus. I couldn't keep a single train of thought. It was like I was just vacant and couldn't process anything.. I could not for the life of me catch my breath. I knew Ron Nicholl was the only one behind me and that North Shore Rescue would be sweeping right behind him, if not with him. So I wasn't panicking. I knew if something happened, if I collapsed, they'd find me shortly. That was one of the actual thought processes I had in continuing up the mountain. At one point I heard footsteps behind me and thought they must be catching up, so I turned to wait. Nobody was there. The sound of footsteps was the sound of my heart beating. I dialed it right back, took frequent breaks, and knew my race was over at Cypress. As much as I wanted to finish this race, I wasn't willing to risk my health and I was fucking scared. When I finally started to crest the Eagle Bluffs and saw Miss Hilary Matheson waiting with her camera, I almost broke down, but instead beamed like an exhausted, worn down lunatic. There was no other photographer I would want waiting for me at that moment. It was at this point I knew that even if I had a full turnaround, time-wise I wouldn't make it. And really, there weren't even any odds of me having a complete turnaround.
I was not willing to risk it. So we hugged up a storm and I posed for my annual portrait. Thank you Hilary, and not just for capturing these moments. You were, mentally, my turning point in the race. Just being able to say out loud to somebody you know, "My race is done." makes it real and can change your entire outlook. From here on in, knowing Cypress was the end of the line, I was going to enjoy every damned second I had on course. For the first time, I was going to hang out at the Black Mountain aid station instead of just flying through yelling thanks, because I was no longer pushing cutoffs. So I stopped for snacks. I stopped to smile and laugh. I stopped at every marshall leading to the parking lot to thank them and chat. It was the most fun I've had in this section in 3 years. Running down the switchbacks, I still couldn't catch my breath. I was gasping every time I stopped. But I was going to bring it in as strong as I could. Laddie was walking towards me and I just looked at her and motioned I was done. Her first words, "Now wait a minute. Let's discuss this first." She had one of the NSR guys with her and I said, "Okay. since before the first scree, I've had a cold, clammy sweat. I haven't been able to catch my breath or focus. And at one point, I heard footsteps behind me that was really the sound of my heart beating." Her response had me laughing. "What? You don't want to carry on and go for a helicopter ride a little later? He's really cute (pointing to SAR guy)." Yeah, a heli ride would have been awesome and yeah, he was cute. But probably wouldn't be my greatest moment using all that fundraising on a joy ride. C'est la vie.
It took a good half hour of standing and sitting at the Cypress Aid for my breathing to become normal again. Thankfully one of the spectacular vollies asked me if I wanted a beverage. My immediate response was, "Nah...I've still got some nuun in here." followed immediately by "Wait. You said 'beverage'." So thank you awesome vollie for giving away Ean's beers.
I ate Black Mountain for breakfast, and had a beer chaser at 9:15.
Hanging out at the finish was bittersweet. It's so exciting to be there to watch everyone finish, but it hurts to know you weren't one of them and didn't even make it past the first quarter. Every hug and sympathetic look was soothing and crushing at the same time.
I went to my doctor to ensure everything was still running like clockwork and to see if we could find out WHY. My blood work was normal, my blood pressure was exactly the same as it had been 2 years prior. I was sent for an echocardiogram to make sure my murmur was still a non-issue, but the appointment was 3 months away. Even knowing that everything was pretty much okay, there was still the question of why. I avoided trail running for 4 months, initially because I was worried I'd be alone in the forest and something would happen, but eventually that just became an excuse. I ran road a lot. There was never fear there. If something did happen, I was surrounded by people.
Finally I had my echo and went back to chat with my doctor. Everything looked fine. We've decided I may have a minor case of asthma and I was extremely under fueled. As Melissa said to me in our initial nutrition session, "You may be fueling for someone who runs a 6 km, but not for what we do." I'm slowly learning to adapt to changes in my diet and am loving the suggestions and feedback Mel is giving me. Now most days that I run, at least in winter when it's cold and damp, I use an inhaler before I head out. I went for my first trail run in 4 months and it was glorious. Once again, I was beaming from ear to ear; racing mountain bikers down Espresso and playing with every dog I come across. I don't know how I stayed away for so long. And still, I've only been back twice. It seems the longer you stay away, the harder it is to return.
In the coming year, I'm going to focus on doing races I'm excited about. I am so lucky to be back with #teamnuun for a 3rd year, this time as a Legacy member. I'm also very excited to have been added to #teamtap representing Canadian brand Endurance Tap for 2018. So far on my calendar I'll be running the BMO Vancouver Marathon for however many times it's been. 11 now? And of course Knee Knacker. I'm hoping to get away for another amazing adventure like Antelope Canyon 55, which was by far the best race experience I've ever had. And maybe just maybe, taking up a little more training for either Van 100 or Zion 100 in 2019. And as I said to Enzo at the finish area of Knee Knacker this year, "I will do Knee Knacker every single year I am fortunate enough to get in." The community is like nothing I've ever seen or experienced before.
It took a good half hour of standing and sitting at the Cypress Aid for my breathing to become normal again. Thankfully one of the spectacular vollies asked me if I wanted a beverage. My immediate response was, "Nah...I've still got some nuun in here." followed immediately by "Wait. You said 'beverage'." So thank you awesome vollie for giving away Ean's beers.
I ate Black Mountain for breakfast, and had a beer chaser at 9:15.
Hanging out at the finish was bittersweet. It's so exciting to be there to watch everyone finish, but it hurts to know you weren't one of them and didn't even make it past the first quarter. Every hug and sympathetic look was soothing and crushing at the same time.
I went to my doctor to ensure everything was still running like clockwork and to see if we could find out WHY. My blood work was normal, my blood pressure was exactly the same as it had been 2 years prior. I was sent for an echocardiogram to make sure my murmur was still a non-issue, but the appointment was 3 months away. Even knowing that everything was pretty much okay, there was still the question of why. I avoided trail running for 4 months, initially because I was worried I'd be alone in the forest and something would happen, but eventually that just became an excuse. I ran road a lot. There was never fear there. If something did happen, I was surrounded by people.
Finally I had my echo and went back to chat with my doctor. Everything looked fine. We've decided I may have a minor case of asthma and I was extremely under fueled. As Melissa said to me in our initial nutrition session, "You may be fueling for someone who runs a 6 km, but not for what we do." I'm slowly learning to adapt to changes in my diet and am loving the suggestions and feedback Mel is giving me. Now most days that I run, at least in winter when it's cold and damp, I use an inhaler before I head out. I went for my first trail run in 4 months and it was glorious. Once again, I was beaming from ear to ear; racing mountain bikers down Espresso and playing with every dog I come across. I don't know how I stayed away for so long. And still, I've only been back twice. It seems the longer you stay away, the harder it is to return.
In the coming year, I'm going to focus on doing races I'm excited about. I am so lucky to be back with #teamnuun for a 3rd year, this time as a Legacy member. I'm also very excited to have been added to #teamtap representing Canadian brand Endurance Tap for 2018. So far on my calendar I'll be running the BMO Vancouver Marathon for however many times it's been. 11 now? And of course Knee Knacker. I'm hoping to get away for another amazing adventure like Antelope Canyon 55, which was by far the best race experience I've ever had. And maybe just maybe, taking up a little more training for either Van 100 or Zion 100 in 2019. And as I said to Enzo at the finish area of Knee Knacker this year, "I will do Knee Knacker every single year I am fortunate enough to get in." The community is like nothing I've ever seen or experienced before.