Racing the Squamish 50 Mile

I’ve gotten used to these start-lines. I still arrive several minutes too early – there is nothing in the pre-race briefing I haven’t heard before. I creep into the dark park, away from the excitement of the start line, holding onto the calm, cool morning as I steel myself for the journey to come. With a couple of minutes to go, I slot myself in a few rows behind the front line. The first 10k are flat and easy - I don’t want to get caught up with the front-runners and blow myself out just to get to the first aid station a few minutes faster.

As we count down from 10, I feel focused. Less anxious energy than last year. ‘Let’s get this done, I know what I need to do’. We set off, and I settle into an alert but comfortable pace. I feel good. I know I am starting off much more confidently and quickly than last year.  There is no question of my ability to complete this course, just how fast, how disciplined. I feel fit after a week without running, the previous big training weeks fully settled in my legs. I hold a pace that won’t give me panic about the many hours to come, and am pleased that it feels strong, despite the speedy group that streams out ahead of me.

The start of the race is beautiful in the dark. The air is cool and dry, perfect conditions. The beginnings of frightened thoughts about how far I will be running bubble up, but I dismiss them without much fight. I’m excited for the day to come.

I move quickly through the first aid station and onto the beautiful and winding trails of Coho Park as I anticipate the first real challenge of the day - ascending Debeck’s Hill, the steepest climb of the course.  My biggest training days involved many hours of technical mountain ascents and I look forward to testing my newfound fitness.  As I start ascending, I catch up to a pair of runners and fall into conversation. We talk about birthday cake flavored gels, mountain biking (to which I have little to add), our goals for the day, and our previous ultra-running experiences. I suddenly realize I’d been climbing for many minutes without thinking about the effort! This was new to me – maybe distraction, over focus, has its place! Perhaps I was moving 10% slower than if I had been going all-out on my own, but is there much sense in pushing hard so early in the day, only to save a few minutes on the climb? I was trying to cut hours off last year’s time and being prepared for the 2nd half of the race was much more important.

Into the Alice Lake aid station where Kyle gives me my vest. I’m 15 minutes earlier than last year, which fills me with excitement. Yet several meters down the trail from the aid station, I realize I had left my phone in my belt, which I had just given to Kyle!  I try to calm any sprouting thoughts of how Kyle will react when he realizes. ‘Will he worry about me being thrown off?’ ‘Will not having my location make things harder for him?’ I decide thinking about it is a waste of energy and remind myself that ultras involve adaptation and problem solving; this is a minor issue. I won’t need my phone unless there is a significant complication, so I move on with my day.

The full vest feels heavy. I am now on a trek. I settle into the upper bounds of a sustainable effort, enjoying the runnable trails of Alice Lake and knowing these ‘flatter’ trail sections are where increased speed can make a big difference in my finishing time. I surprise myself with how fast I feel at a pace that still seems under control. I am having a good day. At the base of the short Made-in-the-Shade climb, I spy a few runners flying down another trail nearby.  ‘These must be some of the front-runners, already having completed this climb and descent!’ I feel a drive to push myself harder. ‘I can go faster’.  I let loose on the quick descent down Ed’s Bypass, knowing the fun of the Corners trails is next, and wanting to catch those ahead of me.  As I emerge from the forest, I realize the people I saw earlier were behind, rather than ahead, of me.  But I do not slow down.

Twisting and soaring down Rob’s Corners, I see a flash of pink ahead - a Barbie themed aid station! “I love your Ken costume!” A quick water refill and I’m ready to tackle the next 10k. Onward I run through flowy downhill singletrack as I reflect on how strong I still feel now that I’m starting to dig into the meat of the course.

I catch up to another racer on Tracks from Hell and pass them not long after. Climbing up to Of Mice and Men, I exchange words with yet another runner as I pass. He asks, “How is it going?” “I’m trying not to think about how we have 50k to go!” I reply.  He confesses, “I’m trying to stay smart but it’s hard when these guys start so fast”. Ahead of him, I spot another racer in a white shirt, steadily running (rather than hiking) the short climb. ‘Wow he looks smooth!’ I catch up to him somewhere before the challenging Entrails descent, and we start chatting.  It turns out he is aiming for an 8:30 finish! This was never a realistic goal of mine, but with his encouragement and with how the day had gone so far, I start to think that it is possible. I pass him as we head downhill, not expecting to see him again.  Little did I know, this encounter would be a key factor in having a truly memorable day.

A brief wrong turn at the base of Entrails (quickly corrected by the wrong way sign) and Christian catches me. We run the gradual uphill grade of Mashiter together and as we get to the aid station, it becomes clear that we both want to keep working together.  I am starting to feel quite concerned about the looming 650m climb up Galactic. Thoughts spiral: ‘This pace was unrealistic, what was I thinking?’ ‘I want to walk the forest road section before the main climb’.  But some food and water, a few wonderful wrings of a wet sponge on my face, and setting off with a new companion turn my mood around quickly. “This is what we came for!”. “Let’s DO IT!”

Christian pulls me up Galactic. He leads and I simply try to keep up. We chat a bunch and although it is certainly a slog, we make it to the top in relatively high spirits.  We pass a few people on the way up, each time giving us a renewed sense of energy and purpose. On a particularly steep section near the top, another runner appears below us! Time to put extra pep in our step! A wrong turn shortly before the crest naturally leads to me being in front as we correct our course.  I mentally prepare to lead us down the long and rather technical descent.

Knowing it is my time to give back, I ignore the mounting pain in my legs and plunge downward to keep our race on track.  Technical downs have become my strong-suit and I strive to give Christian a good line to follow. At the Word of Mouth aid station we catch another runner who is bonking hard. We only need a quick stop, more sponge baths, and some hooting and hollering. “Off to Quest!” “We’re going on a Quest!”. We scamper down with renewed excitement.

Word of Mouth never feels short. While I do not experience the same sense of panic as I had the previous year, I still hold back. Despite a more conservative pace, Christian stays behind me and as we come into the Quest aid station at 53k I figure that perhaps this is the end of our teamwork as up next is his strong suit, a long, runnable climb.

The cheers coming into Quest help ground me as I spot Kyle and prepare to refuel. As I scarf down raspberries (YUM), Christian comes running by me saying “I’ll wait for you”. I’d never experienced or expected anything like that before. I think ‘why is he helping me out so much?!’ Although it means saying goodbye to Kyle a little sooner than expected, I quickly drink some more tailwind and catch up to where Christian is waiting. More sponge baths and we set off to what is perhaps the most psychologically draining portion of the race: the Climb trail, a 500m ascent over close to 8km.

I once again fall into step behind Christian as we jog up the road to the base of the trail. I’d never fully run this road in either the 50M or 50K and so am surprised when we make it to the start of the singletrack after not too long. “Well, that sucked” Christian exclaims. “Indeed”.

A few hundred meters back onto singletrack and I see my friend Nick on his bike! “Ian is that you?” “Nick!! Great to see you!” I feel a quick burst of elation at this sense of community.

The Climb Trail is a challenging grade, perfectly runnable on fresh legs, but taking immense willpower to run on tired legs. However, as it is several kilometers long, hiking loses a lot of time. As I struggle behind, I am about to tell Christian to go ahead without me when he says that he wants to walk. I tell him what I had been thinking, and he is glad we are on the same page. “It’s like I read your mind” He suggests walking for the next .7k to re-group, but I point out that just ahead is a flatter section of the trail and we should save our walking for the upcoming switchbacks. He agrees and we start running again. “You were right, this is fine” Christian mentions as the trail takes a gentler grade.

At the base of the final, long set of switchbacks, I come to be in the lead as Christian takes a pit stop behind me. After a few run-walks I say, “my brain knows I can run but my body wants to walk”. Christian offers to lead again and pulls us to the top. As we start down AM, he asks if I can take the helm. I do, and once more the responsibility for our race lays on my shoulders. I throw myself down AM, like I have on much shorter training runs, thinking about the course description: “though your legs might be screaming you’ll likely be doing the same out loud as you enjoy every step!”  Knowing Christian is following my line, I feel extra motivation to find the easiest, least jarring way down the mountain.

At the base of AM, Christian mentions that he wasn’t sure if he would have been able to do that without me, which is helpful for me to hear. I feel I had at least somewhat paid back the debt I owed. As we arrive at Aid Station 6, another runner appears behind us. It’s the same one who had almost caught up to us at the top of Galactic! “LET’S GO!!!”  Fool’s Gold and Another Man’s Gold are perfect downhill running trails. We fly, as I set a pace I had never imagined possible at this distance.

Then we hit the climb up to STP.  I start to feel very negative and thoughts of the race falling apart spin out of control.  Despite this, I surprisingly slightly pull away from Christian on one of the shallow ups. He calls forward that it is his time to fade back if I’m still feeling good. I know it is the time to keep pushing as hard as I can. We say goodbye. Not even a few minutes later while I am having my first pee of the race, Christian catches back up. 

I manage to pull and then stay ahead for the rest of the STP/Bonsai climb, despite feeling extremely slow and grumpy. Turning down Somewhere Over There, I hear a familiar voice as Christian calls above “I’m still kicking Ian!”. I reply, “Glad to see you!!”.

The descent down Somewhere Over There shows me what ‘gritting your teeth’ really means.  I know I am bonking and am scared, sad, and grumpy about how more of the race I have left. Halfway down I realize my teeth are clenched directly on top of each other in a grimace.  I remind myself that I’ve been uncomfortable many times before. That I’ve never been happy at the Farside aid station. I can’t let Christian down by walking it in after he’s helped me out so much. I can’t let myself down after I’ve put in so much work prior to and on race day. I must keep pushing.

Into the final aid station where Kyle is ready to help me, and where I plan to switch out of my vest and back to my belt. I sit down in a camp chair as Kyle says, “talk to me”. I do what I need to do as both Christian and the first-place female leave ahead of me. Once again, Christian is incredibly supportive and encourages me as I pass him a few hundred meters down the trail. Now I start chasing the first-place female. She seems so calm, smooth, and positive. I’m inspired. She calls back “Say when”, and I confirm that I will, but am currently perfectly happy behind her for now. She pulls ahead at some points, and I catch up at others. As we turn onto Seven Stitches I call out, “final climb!”. She responds, “final climb!!”.

This ‘final climb’ is in fact made up of many climbs connected by undulating terrain that feels like it goes on for much longer than the actual distance would indicate. As we approach the final quarter of the climb, she calls back about how long this section feels. We start talking about our past experiences with this course, noting that we are both set to beat our previous times by well over an hour!  On the final steep ascent up to Mountain of Phlegm, I pass her and quickly turn down the next trail without taking in the view. I finally feel that I can finish on pure grit and don’t need to do any more pacing or fueling or planning. What a relief! 

As I tackle the final 4k I am so ready for the day to be over. But I tell myself that I have done this before despite feeling the same way, if not worse. I draw on the final few hours of my out-and-back Howe Sound Crest Trail adventure a few weeks prior where I had felt truly terrible. I know it is worth it to spend a little more time in pain as I will be proud when I cross the finish line.  And I don’t want Emilie or Christian to pass me on this homestretch.

I shoulder-check a few hundred meters from the end and see no one. I begin to feel elated. As I turn into the park, I see my friends cheering me on and burst into a smile. I complete the final few meters with my arms outstretched, falling, exhausted, into Gary’s arms as I cross the finish line.

We hold a tight hug for several seconds as I thank him for the experience. He says how he liked seeing me out on the course because it looked like I was ‘actually having fun’. I respond with “I was, until the last 10k”. “Well, it is designed that way!” he says with a laugh. 

I need to lie down, so I hobble to where my friends are set-up and collapse to the ground. A few minutes later I cheer for Christian as he enters the park, but I’m not sure he sees me. I wish I had stayed at the finish line to thank and congratulate him, as I didn’t end up seeing him again. I know I wouldn’t have had the day I had without him. A minute later, Emilie comes through to thunderous applause as she is crowned champion. Now it is time to relax and celebrate with my friends.

***********

I feel proud. I was calm and focused at the beginning. I learned how much teamwork can impact a race experience.  I surprised myself by being able to run more of the later stage than I expected to. I was disappointed by how weak I felt mentally after 30k but am excited to identify how much I can still grow. And physically I feel I can face next year significantly stronger with another season of focused training.  Suddenly the top times, while still out of reach, do not feel so mystical. I know I can run a faster race with more experience and training.  I hope life and the world allows me that opportunity to try.