So, clearly, I had no business being on this trail, on the mountain, or in this race.
Mike and I arrived in Sayward the night before the race. It had rained fiercely and we set up the tent in the dark at Fisherboy Campground a sweet little car-camping lot owned by two sweet and kind souls. As soon as the tent was up, we were down for the count and slept pretty solidly until 5 a.m. when our BlackBerry summoned us awake.
The first drawback of the day happened early: my contact lens ripped in half and, having not planned for this, I was forced to don my glasses for the race. Normally, this isn't a big deal. But with steep ascents and descents and a lot of sweat, I knew it'd be trouble.
Still, we carried on preparing for the day. We ate heartily, we filled out camelback water packs to the brim. We packed snacks. We donned our gloves. We were ready for the race.
We were picked up at Fisherboy by Sayward's only taxi driver, Helene from Quebec. She was hilarious and inviting. She said "You can do it. Just finishing this is an accomplishment." She dropped us off at the start line, about a km away from the base of Mount H'Kusam and said "I'll see you at the finish line."
After a quick scan of the 300+ athletes at the start line, we soon realized that perhaps we were in for something a little beyond what we had anticipated. Racers had walking poles, ice crampons, and hiking boots. They had food and massive amounts of water. We were 2 of say 30 people with running shoes. Everyone else was pretty much ready for something far more intense than "running".
When the race started, a sea of people headed down the main drag in Sayward toward the mountain. It was maybe 10 minutes before we hit the trail and started going up. And boy, was it UP! Our running quickly became strenous step-ups. We were out of breath, sweaty, and starting to doubt ourselves only 5 minutes in. But we persevered ... because everyone else looked and felt the same way.
This first leg of the race is the hardest. It's a 1500-ft elevation gain over 5.5 km to the peak. It is up up up. Steep steps, lots of ropes to pull on, climbing through snow, etc. It was incredibly difficult and incredibly rewarding at the same time.
After we passed Checkpoint 1 where volunteers offer food, drinks, and check in every racer to make sure that no one gets left behind on the mountain, we pushed forth. Not long into the second stretch to the peak, Mike cracked his head on a low-hanging rock. Blood everywhere. "How does it look," he asked? "You have no skin on your head," I said. He put some kleenex over it and pressed forth.
On the way up, our gaze was mostly down, looking for tree roots and rocks to use as support to hoist ourselves up. But every now and again, there was a break in the trees and we got a glimpse of how far up we really were and why we were doing this: the view was impeccable. We were pretty sure we could see all of Vancouver Island. It was majestic.
About 500 meters from the top is a natural lake that looks like black glass. It was surrounded in snow and ice. And it looked like something out of a story book. We stopped. Ate a granola bar. Took a picture. And nearly cried.
We were so exhausted and tired and sore, and only 1/4 into our race, and this bit of beauty was so refreshing. It made it all worthwhile.
The summit was, consequently, also Checkpoint 2. Two amazing volunteers in blankets shivering at the top with a notepad recording all the numbers of racers coming in. We sat here for only a minute. We were so high in the clouds at this point that we could barely make out the view ... so we pressed forth. After all, we were racing, right?
From here on in, the rest of the race was down down down. One would think that this makes it easy. And one would be very wrong.
The first kilometre is a steep descent through mud and snow using a series of ropes for balance. Without the ropes, you'd fall off the mountain. It was THAT steep. As a result, it was also incredibly thrilling and downright fun. At one point, we ditched the ropes, sat on our bottoms, and slid down the snow. It hurt like heck, but we got there fast and it was a hoot of a time. We felt 12 again.
At one point, during this steep ascent, a man about 60 happened upon us. He had braces on his legs. And he quickly overtook us and disappeared into the thick forest.
I looked at Mike.
Mike look at me.
"There is no way I'm getting beaten by a man with braces on his legs," I said.
"We'll catch him," Mike said.
"Don't worry."
I sensed hesitation in his voice.
At Checkpoint 3, we stopped in at the nurses station to get Mike's head looked at. Since he wasn't feeling nauseous or headachy, she said he should be fine to continue. The terrain at this point was still thick with forest and slightly less muddy, though we were about to stumble upon a number of creek and small river bed crossings that we would eventually stop strategizing over and wasting time and just run straight through.
The first time we bit the bullet and stepped shin-deep in water, it was exhilirating.
"That's going to be a blister," Mike said.
We high-fived, picked up the pace, and carried on.
At Checkpoint 4, we were met with two big surprises. The first and the best was Nanaimo Bars and Bagel Sandwiches! It was a feast and we were starving. The second was: Brace Legs! The man who had passed us two hours before with braces on his legs.
We eyed him up as he took his last bite of a bagel and started forth on his descent. He was walking. So we felt we had a good chance of catching him.
We scarfed down our food, high-fived the volunteers, and started running. This was our element! The terrain was rolling hills and valleys now (with stunning views of mountains in the distance) and we were keeping a fairly descent jogging pace as we skipped over creeks and rounded grassy knolls. At this point, we had about 12 more kilometers to go. And we were pretty much spent (though our second wind came from the thrill of seeing and hopefully catching Brace Legs.)
As we ran, we passed a number of people who had passed us on the climb. We felt strong. We felt fast. But we didn't see Brace Legs. Time and time again, we'd see someone in the distance, and as we approached, realized it wasn't Brace Legs. It took nearly four kilometres for us to catch up to and finally pass him. Which we did with subtle high five and two big smiles.
But the more we ran, the more our knees hurt. The terrain was a lot of up and down on unstable ground, not the usual pavement we were used to. And more the ran, the more we pounded the ground, and eventually we both had to stop.
"What about Brace Legs?" I inquired desperately.
"You need to rest," Mike said "We'll walk for a bit. He's way behind us."
"I can't be beaten by him."
"You won't." said Mike.
We hobbled along, both of us limping slightly, letting the swelling in our knees subside. We had 5 km to go.
We heard voices be behind us.
"Brace Legs!" I thought with fear.
We turned around, and there he was!
My mouth was agape.
Mike's mouth was agape.
And we walked right on past us. And I am pretty sure he winked.
"We've got to start running!" I said desperately and started limping fast forward.
Mike laughed and walked beside me as I struggled along.
After 3 minutes, I gave up my fruitless efforts, listened to Mike, walked gingerly for another 15 minutes until the pain subsided, and then we began to trot forward slowly.
We came out of the hills and into a new growth forest, which made us feel really tall, as the trees and plants were only 50-100 years old versus the thousands of years old in the forest we have just scaled through. It was lush and green. There was a cool breeze. We decided to let the idea of beating Brace Legs go (after all, he had completed the race 6 times before), and chock it up to our inexperience.
When we finally hit the highway we felt strong and excited. The citizens of Sawyward were on their porches and lawns cheering. We felt on top of the world! They cheered! They invited us over for beers later. They spray painted "Are You Tough Enough?" on the road.
We wound around the final bend and down the chute some 6 and a half hours after we started. The crowd cheered. We high-fived. And immediately plunked down on bench and rested our heads on each other.
Our knees would hurt for days after. Our bodies would ache. And my heel would take 3 weeks to heal. But it was, by far, the most challenging and rewarding and humbling experience we have ever had. We tackled nature and all of her elements and she gave it to us hard and heavy. We were not prepared. We were amateurs at best. We went in cocky and left humbled. We had an appreciation for every single athlete who finished before us and every single one that finished after us.
We were tired, bruised, sore, but not defeated.
Helene the taxi driver was at the finish line!
"You did it!!!" she said, arms up in the air, with the pride of a mom.
"You are amazing!"
She drove us back to camp where we promptly cracked open two beers.
We will be back next year for more.
