Knackered - continued...

The other day a friend of mine had the nerve to suggest that I might have run the first half too hard and that was why, yet again, I had trouble over the last half of the course. Instantly defensive, I said that there was no way I was running outside of my comfort zone. But had I?

Running down the gravel road into Cleveland Dam I relaxed as much as possible and focused on what I needed to do at the aid station - look for Heather and Rhys, grab a new bottle from my drop bag, drank two cups of water, then back out onto the course.

I ran right past Heather and Rhys and realized this when I heard my friend Jill yell, "Nice haircut Langhjelm!" I turned and ran back to Rhys and Heather, gave them both a kiss, turned back around, found my drop bag, switched bottles, tossed my garbage, quickly drank two cups of water, then hit the road.

In each of my previous attempts at the Knee Knacker, I've run the 1mile section of Nancy Greene Way with an eye towards setting a good tone as I began the last half of the course. As this tactic has let me down every time, I decided that I would walk until I hit the base of the Grouse Grind.

By now, Mark Bennett had passed me and was motoring up the hill on his way to a 5:25 finish in his first attempt at the race. Great run Mark!

Halfway up Nancy Greene I started to worry about how much I was sweating. During the first of the race I was definitely sweating profusely, but I was too focused on not falling on my face to give it a seconds thought. But now that I was walking and the adrenaline had worn off, I started to stress a little. It was only 2:43 into the race at this point and I had consumed at least 2 liters of water / Carbo-pro, if not more. While I was trying to figure out how I was going to stay on top of the hydration issue, I remembered that I had two Advil in my bottle's side pocket. I've never taken Advil before a race before, but I've had a number of people tell me that it helps with the pain. So I popped two more Advil (I had two for breakfast).

By the time I reached the entrance to the Grouse Grind, I was starting to feel a little fresher so I decided that I would start running as soon as I hit the gate.

Now, Grouse Mountain was hosting its Trail Sense Day at the same time as we were passing through so there were a fair number of people milling about as I started to pass through. Someone yelled "runner" and everyone cleared as if I were Moses and they were the Red Sea. Well, I better start running I thought. So, off I went...for about three steps and then both of my adductors cramped on me and I was brought to a swift halt with all eyes upon me. Crap.

An interesting aside - the song that was playing on my IPOD when the cramping started? Karma Police by Radiohead.

The exact same thing happened to me in the exact same spot in 2001 and that race did't end well. As I was trying to massage out the cramp in each leg, Chris Downie and Aaron Pitt passed by. After asking what was wrong, Aaron offered up one of his salt tablets. Since this was only the second time in my life that I've had leg cramps, I didn't know if the salt would help the cause or hurt it. So I said thanks, but no thanks.

Within seconds the cramps abated and I was able to resume a steady pace again, passing both Chris and Aaron within the next few minutes.

The 3/4 mark of any race, long or short, is always my undoing. In the Knee Knacker, the section from Grouse Mountain to the Rice Lake checkpoint is where I have the most trouble, both physically and mentally. When people ask me about this section of the Knee Knacker, I always half jokingly refer to it as the tunnel of doom. I always feel terrible and the worst thoughts go through my mind. It is somewhere along this section that I stop caring about what my finishing time will be or how I will place. I just want to finish.

When you reach that place, the place where self preservation is your only concern, intimate knowledge of the trail before you is not a good thing.

In a way, the fact that I'd experienced a similar level of discomfort and mental anguish at this point in the race helped me cope and avoid the "drop out" thoughts.

I also call this section my "annual piece of humble pie." A very big piece indeed.

So, with my well documented relationship with this section of the trail in mind, I decided that I would focus on getting through one small section of the course at a time.

This strategy proved to be necessary almost immediately as the cramping started again and, to make things more interesting, a nice bout of nausea decided to visit.

By the time I had reached the bench dedicated to Carolene Simpson (Michael Simpson's Mom), I had become a mess. The cramps were visiting different places now - left hamstring, adductors, the occassional shot to the quads. There was a minute or so section that was so disasterous it was almost comical. Like a shot from a gun, my adductors cramped, sending me to the ground. I got up, started to run, then my left hamstring cramped, sending my flying again. The last fall was the one that hurt. Thankfully the only thing that was hurt was my ego.

As I descended down towards the Mountain Highway Aid Station, I felt like I was coming out of a thick mental fog. I was extremely grateful to reach this point; the worst part of the course (in my opinion) behind me.

After a quick rinse at the tap, I was off at a decent clip, thinking that I might actually be able to recover well enough to finish fairly strong.

Turning left onto the Lynn Headwaters Access Road, I saw Heather and someone I've never seen before jumping up and down and screaming encouragement. I was pretty dam tired at this point, but they still managed to give me a boost of adrenaline.

Heading onto the Varley Trail, Heather told me I was in seventh. Someone up front must have dropped! That gave me a lift for whatever reason. That lift was shortlived as I heard Heather yell "go girl" to who could only be Suzanne Evans. Shit. I figured that Suzanne might have a chance at catching me near the end if she had a great race, but not this early.

Within a minute, she was hot on my heels. I knew then that I didn't have a chance against her. I looked at my watch, which read 3:58. I knew she ran the final 1/4 last year in just over 1:14 so I knew she had a shot at her own record if she could stay focused and strong until the end. As she went by I tried to encourage her by telling her to go for it, your record is in reach.

She modestly protested, then sped away from me, the perfect blend of grace and strength.

The tiny amount of adrenaline I had at this point was gone and it was back to survival mode.

At the end of the third quarter, Chris Downie and Aaron Pitt caught up to me again. The three of us ran rather awkwardly, but still relatively quickly down the Suspension Bridge Trail towards the BP.

As we began the climb up toward the BP junction, all three of us stopped within seconds of each other to work out a cramp. It was definitely an amusing scene.

I was the longest of the group to get back to a trot, so that was the last I saw of Chris and Aaron (Congratulations Guys!). I managed to run / shuffle all the way down to the bridge that crosses the Seymour River. I was now 4:30 into the race with a very long 9+ km to go. Thoughts of breaking 5:30 were long gone as I gave into the fact that I would probably be hiking the whole Seymour Grind section.

At 4:40 I finally reached the Hyannis Aid Station and saw Heather again. No Rhys this time. Sound asleep in the car. Crap. I was hoping that he could give me a smile or something to motivate me.

I hear a vollie telling someone that Kevin must be close to finishing...

I stalled for a few more minutes, drinking a couple of cups of flat coke. Pat Love, another vollie, asked me I wanted a sponge. I said no thanks and that Heather would be giving me a sponge bath soon enough. No laughs. Bad joke I guess.

Back onto the Baden Powell and up the Seymour Grind, the last cruel hill of note. I'm in 10th at this point. As I reach the crest of the Seymour Grind, I look behind me to find Keith Wakelin slowly gaining on me. Now, one of my goals each of the last three attempts was to beat Keith Wakelin. After he beat me my first year, he was quoted as saying that there was no competition. I took that personally and vowed that I would take him down. I failed the last two times, with Keith passing me somewhere during the third quarter. It looked like I was going to fail again. I've got no hard feelings against Keith. Heck, it's only running. But, still. I want to beat the guy.

"Good work Keith. Go get 'em." "Thanks Eric. Dig deep."

Bastard. (just kidding...sort of).

Heading down the Baden Powell towards Mount Seymour Road is not fun when your legs are fried. Strong legs that danced around obstacles just hours earlier can now barely navigate the smallest of rocks. The only word running through my head: Ouch, ouch, ouch, etc.

Everything was starting to bug me, my shirt and water bottle in particular. I put my water bottle down at the next main intersection, hopeful that the course sweep would pick it up (thank you!). A few minutes later, off comes the singlet, absolutely soaked. Like a petulant child, I threw the singlet on the ground. It was my lowest point, feeling defeated and disappointed. That being said, I rarely sulk for more than a few minutes. Life's to short. And to be frank, the only person who cares whether I come first or 200th is me.

The pity-party over, I prepared myself for the final push. The Mount Seymour Road Aid Station was a welcome sight as always. The next 1.5km section of the BP, oftern refered to as "wheel chair accessible" because of the lack of obstacles, passed without problem.

The energy level started to pick up as I hit Indian River Road, though the legs had zero lift or spring to them.

Then, WHAM. Cramps again. Crap. Less than 2km to go and I'm hobbled again. As I'm standing on the side of the trail trying to work out a hamstring cramp, two other guys go by, including my friend Tom Craik who was having an awesome race (Congrats Tom!).

Cramp subsides and I'm off and running (sort of) again. Back to survival mode. Just get to the finish. I can hear the MC's voice at the finish as it carries across the waters of Indian Arm. It sounds minutes away, but I know better.

Behind me I hear someone else coming. I look and it's Nicola Gildersleeve, the early 20's girl from North Shore Athletics. Wow! She finished her first Knee Knacker last year in about 6:40, so she was having an awesome race...and was going to beat me!

There was nothing I could do but watch her pull away from me. At this point, my only thought was "oh well."

As I crested the last hill, relief washed over me, as I'm sure it does for everyone who does this race.

Approaching Panorama Drive, emotion starts to bubble beneath the surface. I think back to my first year when I burst into tears when I crossed the finish line. A lot has changed in my life in the six years since I first ran this race.

The Knee Knacker really changed my life that first year. As I approached the finish line of my fourth Knee Knacker six years later I thought about how grateful I am for what I have - a beautiful wife, a wonderful son, and so many other things that probably wouldn't be a part of my life if I had never taken up Keith Nicoll's offer of an entry into the Knee Knacker.

Words truly can't describe what it meant for me to see my family at the finish line this year and to be able to carry my son across the finish line with me.

I wanted to run well so that Heather and Rhys would be proud of me. I hope they are, not just of me, but of everyone who took part.

Within minutes of finishing my first Knee Knacker I was asked if I would ever do the race again. If I remember correctly, my answer was a very definitive no.

Guess who signed up already for next year...