24 hours of agony, anxiety, and amazement. Welcome to Ultra marathons.

Held each August in Manning Park BC, the Fatdog Ultra is one of the most stunning (and challenging) ultra marathons in the province. With its iconic peaks, and epic valleys, it’s easy to see why so many trail runners have it on their bucket list. They host multiple distances including 40 mile, 50 mile, 100k, as well as their main event the 120 miler, so there is opportunity for runners to work up their distance year after year. I chose to jump in somewhere in the middle of the pack. The 100km. Running the race with Ryan and Jason. We were ready… I think?

The training was done, all the hours and hours spent uping KMS each week, all for this moment.

It’s funny, years ago I was reading an article about a runner that was doing the West Coast Trail (75km) in a single day as a trail run. I remember thinking how crazy it was that someone could even run that far in one go, let alone navigate that kind of rugged coastal terrain at running speed. And all these years later, here I am staring down 100km of sprawling mountains, with the intent of running for the next 24 hours.

Our weather on race day was perfect (or at least it started out that way.) Overcast. Not too sunny. The energy and anxiety was mounting for everyone, and extra for those of us who were first timers. The countdown began 5,4,3,2,1 GO! We were off. We started out at Westgate and made our way along a trail that skirted along a bluff just above the highway. This trail was single track so the unnerving energy was soon squashed into a long line of marching upward with not much room to pass.

Before long, the trail turned northward following the Skaist River towards Grainger Camp, our first aid station. The trail had a nice section that was slightly wider there and you could clearly see the frontrunners moved ahead at this point. Of which I am not one. Not by a long shot. In and out of the aid station as quick as possible we continued upward towards the next aid station along the Hope Pass trail, at the junction at the top of Whipsaw Creek FSR. This was the important one as it was the first of the aid stations with a cut off time. The hustle was on.

I had been suffering from a quad issue, it had spasmed earlier in the run and was causing some challenges with flexibility in the knee, but got into the aid station with enough time before the cut off to have a breather. This aid station was also one of the stations our families were able to make it up to cheer us on which was amazing. It was also the junction that our friend Amy was joining us to pace the next segment. 40km.

Ryan, Amy, and myself made our way out of the aid station, we came across Jason a little ways up the trail, and he was moving along but didn’t look great. The 4 of us had a quick chat, there was just enough time for Jason to get in and out of the aid station before being cut off, but due to challenges that he had had through the morning, he had to step out of the race at that point. Heartbreaking, but totally understandable. We continued on.

The route doubled back along the Hope Pass trail back up to the Nicomen Lake trail. We got moving through some flowly meadows, with evidence of some serious hailstorm on the trail, it began to be slick as we carried on towards the Nicomen Lake aid station. The looming clouds soon opened a proper downpour on us. Cold, and with the desire to get out of the valley we were in, we didn’t spend too much time at the aid station. The trail wrapped around the lake before ascending up rather quickly to the peaks above the lake. We hiked.

Once we crested the top of the ridge the trail opened up to the most amazing mountain meadows and pure cross country trail running that went on as far as the eye could see. The rolling hills continued as we made our way, now on the Heather Trail, towards Kicking Horse Camp and the next aid station. We were now over halfway through this monster!

Our spirits were still high, but the fatigue was starting to be apparent. For me, my quad still hadn’t let off and had created a flexibility issue in my knee. Moving on flat ground was ok, but too much incline or decline put considerable strain just below my knee cap. Unfortunately the remainder of the trail would not be endless flatland running. There were literally mountains and mountains to climb.

Arriving at Kicking Horse was impressive, the skyline and some later day sun. Dehydrated, we fully refueled and made promises to finish all fluids before reaching out next aid station at Blackwall Rd, which we would hopefully hit by night fall. This was the point where I could start to feel what ultras are about. Far past the distance and time of my runs, my long runs, or even really really long day adventures. This was treading into unknown territory for me.

The night sky was starting to take over as we exited off the trail and onto Blackwall Rd, we were plugging away, much quieter at this point, less banter and had moved into a general “you good” “good” kind of a rhythm. Eventually we could see the lights of the Blackwall aid station. A bit bleary we approached. We got to the tents and frankly struggled to follow directions from the volunteers. We did however hear many familiar voices. To our surprise Dave, (other) Dave and Jason were all there with hot soup and our own fire pit! We sauntered over and went through the process of being told what to do, as this was starting to become something we couldn’t figure ourselves. We sat, ate soup, thanked Amy for supporting the run as pacer over the last 40km, high fives all around, and then Ryan and I made our way to sign out of the aid station and back into the dark.

We made our way down Blackwall Rd in the dark, shuffling off to the side of the road like deer, Every time a car came to pass us. It took what felt like forever to get down the switchbacks of the road, and then finally crossed the highway towards the lodge we had checked in at yesterday. It was sometime between maybe 11pm or midnight. We ran (at this point a relative term) past the backside of the lodge up the road, and in and out of Frosty Joe aid station. It was frankly a blur. We were now in this middle of the night march, not saying much, just keeping each other from falling behind, passing the odd runner that was also in the same state.

Eventually showing up at our final aid station. It was a welcome site, and filled with an odd energy. People passed out in chairs and on the ground or hunched over, as well as people so psyched that runners were still coming in. I knew I couldn’t stay long, and I certainly couldn’t sit down. This would be the end for me if I had. Suddenly a familiar shout from Dave in the back parking lot. He came over and checked in on us. It was so good having familiarity. Another voice appeared. JASON! He had come out to not only check in, but had also rallied, got himself a pacer bib and was going to run the final 20 km with us. Amazing!

Stoked with our additional support for what would be the hardest 20km we would have to do we all left the aid station with a hop in our step. Truthfully the remaining part of the run I don’t recall it the way it likely unfolded. I remember the darkness and being irritated with how little the headlamps light offered me for vision. But would I really want to see more? There was one final climb up to a peak prior to descending down and making our way to the finish line. We arrived at the summit as the sun rose enough to capture the enormity of Manning Park. The 3 of us were taken back with the views, the colors, the life out here. You could feel that it was a special time in a special place.

We made our descent and laboured our way over the final bride, back along the ridge that took us to our final destination. The finish line at Fat Dogs Ultra 100km marathon!

It has taken me a while to get this out, and maybe partially because it has taken so long to digest it, the training, the lead up, the logistics for not only us racing, but our close friends and family that shared in the highs and lows of all of this. So greatful of everyone that helped make this achievable for us.

Cheers.