First off, the amount of support received for my fundraising for North Shore Search & Rescue both last year and this year boggled my mind. So for this, I thank you.
Second, I stayed injury free. Well, there was chafing. And there was an incident (or three) with a Jiffy John door prior to the start. But other than that, I stayed upright and yard sale free!
When I first started trail running, my goal was to run the Baden Powell from end to end, not realizing this was an actual race. I visualized running through meadows blooming with wildflowers. Go ahead. Mock me. My trail running thus far had been Pacific Spirit Park at UBC and the Capilano Pacific Trail. In other words, roots and rocks were still foreign objects, so my visualizations of pretty open space with butterflies flitting between blooming flowers was still a reality in my head. Then I met the Baden Powell Trail from Grouse to Lynn and fell in love. I found myself beaming from ear to ear while rocketing down over roots and rocks. Flat gravelly trails became my nemeses. Shortly after I learned of the Knee Knacker, yet I had no desire to race it. Two years ago it started to peak my interest. Last year I entered the lottery for the first time but failed to see my name drawn. Most stressful $10 ever spent. This year I was given a guaranteed spot because of my fundraising and I cannot thank the folks at Knee Knacker enough for this opportunity. This year it was the least stressful $10 ever spent.
About two months prior to race day I started to panic about the Black Mountain climb. As much as I love the back half of the course and as familiar with it as I was, I had never set foot west of Cleveland Dam. And I HATE climbing. I am slower on an uphill than pouring congealed gravy out of a gravy boat that has been sitting on your kitchen counter post-Thanksgiving dinner for 3 days. So seeing that the race starts with 4000 feet up set me in a panic. Add to that I had 3 hours to get to Cypress. What. The. Fuck.
Thankfully with the lack of snow this winter I was able to test the waters in early May. Melanie, Anya and I set out one morning to lose our Black Mountain virginity. Anticipating the painful awkwardness to be expected with the first time, we were all surprised to find ourselves enjoying every moment. I had assumed to get to the peak it was up, up and more up. And yes. It is. But to come across odd sections of runnable, rolling trail was a genuine surprise. Once we hit the boulder scree it became even more fun. Scrambling switched up the motion and gave our legs a rest, plus it's FUN! We thought we were king of the world when we hit the peak, until we realized that was one of many false peaks. But all in all, Black wasn't so scary anymore. One week later we had another group outing, this time tackling the entire first half. My first time down the Hollyburn Chute all I could think was 'How have I never done this before?' and WHEEEEEEEEEEE! But still I worried. I was nowhere near the 3 hour cut off to Cypress and I was becoming obsessed with Black Mountain. I posted a rare 'woe is me... Black mtn will be my downfall' post on facebook and immediately received an uplifting message from Kelsy. This is how special this race is. How many Race Directors message you some confidence when they see a random post on facebook? My fourth time up Black in 5 weeks I went solo. I needed to go one last time to see how I did at my pace with no distractions. I came into Cypress in my fastest time, still 15 minutes over the 3 hour cutoff, but I was getting faster. This time around I was running the first 3/4. And after adding on an extra km at the start from the bus stop, to getting turned around several times at Cypress, I made it to LSCR in 8:15 after a couple 10-15 minute breaks at both Cypress and the Dam. But I felt fresh as a daisy; like I had just run 10 km, not 38. This was a huge mental boost and I was no longer freaking out. Cut offs be damned. I'll get there when I get there and if I miss a cut off, I'll just take my bib off and go for a run to Deep Cove. But 'spoiler alert' that wasn't necessary. I made every damn one of them.
This brings us to race day and a 3:45 am wake up call. And to my first shout out. Dianna. Pancake payment could never be enough to drive me to a race at 4:30 in the pre-dawn morning. I was nerve-free and filled with so much excitement. Who the hell squeals in excitement before tackling an ultra? #ThatWouldBeMe
I decided going into this that I would go watch-free and just run. I was no longer obsessing about cut-offs so what would be the point of constantly being aware of the time? The sections I remembered leading up to the scree came up faster than I anticipated. Believing I was still going as slow as that congealed days old gravy I just took it for granted that it was more familiar to me now, so just seemed to be going by faster. Right after the scree I started to hear voices below me. Believing I was in last, all I could think was 'Goddamn it all to hell, I'm about to be swept.' This was playing with my head, but it kept me moving forward. When I crested the top and saw Karen and her camera, I beamed. I knew this was the last false peak and I could run soon. Even though we'd been warned by the KK Committee not to think it gets easier after Black, I knew for me, it did. I still thought I wasn't going to make the 3 hr cutoff. I was practicing what I would say to Greg in order to be allowed to go on to the Dam. I just KNEW that if I could get to the dam in 5 hours, I was gold.