Knackered!

It's been three days since I staggered to the finish of my fourth Knee Knacker and I still feel a little out to lunch. Perhaps I'm still in shock over how damn tough that race is...

On Friday, my confidence was soaring and my body was twitching with pent up energy. I was well trained, well rested, and I had a solid game plan, one that called for me to hold back and run a smart, controlled race.

However, I was definitely concerned about the weather report for the day - warm, but high humidty (mid-80's). None of my many long runs this season had taken place in similar conditions, so I knew I had to adjust my fluid / fuel intake somewhat.

For the first time in years, I slept soundly the night before the race. Usually I lay there for hours, thinking myself into oblivion. Instead, I was out like a light and had no problems jumping out of bed at 4:00 AM.

Breakfast - toast (awesome "cale seed" bread from Cobs) with a lot of peanut butter and honey. coffee (lots).

Three trips to the bathroom and I was out the door and up the road to meet Kim Steed for a ride to the new start line.

When I get to the start area of any race, I start to get nervous. Everybody looks fit, fast, and confident. Things were no different this time. Most of the runners looked fit, fast, and confident. Others looked very unrunner-like, but after having been beaten pretty soundly by all shapes and sizes over the years, I'll never underestimate another runner ever again.

The one constant, the runner's constant, was the excuses. Everybody had them, and everybody was sharing 'em.

The beauty in having a great excuse is that if you end up performing well, it was in spite of the obstacle you had to overcome. However, if things don't got well, you've got your excuse to fall back on! Rarely do you ever hear someone say "I feel fit, fast, and confident. I'm going to run great." I did, once, and my words blew up spectacularly in my face.

Another runner's constant, is the need to pee at least 8-10 times in the hour before the race starts. My personal nightmare is the holding pens at the start of the Vancouver Sun Run. Without fail, I have had to pee every single time I've been in one of those holding pens. Invariably, I always end up jumping off course and behind something to relieve myself.

If I remember correctly, I believe I peed at least 6 times in the 30 minutes leading up to the start and two of the times I surprised another runner trying to go about their business in the bushes!

As we were called to line up for the start, I looked around at all of the guys and girls at the front and thought, holy crap is this going to be a fast race.

The race starts and I watch the first 15 or so practically sprint off the line. Relax, I told myself. No one cares what place you are in at the beginning of the race, only at the end. So I eased into a comfortable pace, preparing for the first short, but steep climb. When we hit the hill, the only two people in the immediate vincinity to slow down were Suzanne Evans and myself. As she is the current women's course record holder, I figured I was being smart to do what she was doing.

It didn't take long, however, for me to start passing people. I live near the start line and train frequently on the first 1/4 of the Knacker with Angus (our terrier). Plus, I love running up hills (the same can't be said for running downhill).

Within 15 minutes we were onto the Baden Powell and beginning the long climb up to the bluff. At this point, there were about 5 of us running together - Aaron Pitt (Mtn Biker), Chris Downie, Mark Bennett (Mtn Biker), and Greg Inskter (Mtn Biker). Mark and I quickly dropped the other three as we settled into a steady pace. By now, we were all drenched in sweat, the humidity proving to be more challenging than the terrain.

At 23 minutes running gave way to fast walking / hiking. The challenging part of Black Mountain is actually relatively short in distance / duration. It took us just over 37 minutes from when we started walking to reach the bluffs and an amazing view.

Mark was about 30s ahead of me at this point. I kept telling myself to relax and to not focus on what place I was in yet. I was also focusing on drinking as much and as often as possible.

In the week since I was last through the Cabin Lakes section, the snow had almost completely disappeared. I was expecting sloppy conditions, but the mud wasn't bad at all. That, combined with the fact that I felt awesome, gave me a shot of confidence and adrenaline.

Just before the Heli-pad we ran past Barry Chilibeck, a course marshal, whose head was literally being eaten alive by bugs. There must have been about a hundred bugs within inches of his hair. I was grateful that there was someone there to direct us, but man that must have sucked. Thank you Barry!

As I started the descent into Cypress Bowl, I could see that I was catching up to Mark Bennett. It looked like he dislikes downhills even more than I do.

I took a gel once we reached the Yew Lake Trail, with a reminder to myself to grab water at the aid station.

In all three of my previous attempts at this race, I've spent way too much time hanging out at aid stations, partly for the break, but also for the social aspect. Aid stations are a lot of fun and the people who volunteer at them are some of the most enthusiastic, cheerful people you could ever hope to meet. This time, however, my plan was to be out of every aid station within 15s.

In my race plan, my goal time for the 1/4 was 1:35, a time I felt would set me up for a great run on the next 1/4 and beyond. When I heard my time at the checkpoint, 1:28, I panicked a bit as that was roughly the same split I had in year's past where I had blown up. But I felt great and didn't think I was pushing the pace at all, so I relaxed a bit and started the next 1/4 feeling good about how things were going.

By this point I had caught up to Mark Bennet and we ran together over to the Hollyburn Lodge, a.k.a. Black Fly Central.

Mark appeared to be slowing a bit and I was feeling great, so I decided to pass him. In hindsight, I'm not sure if this was a good idea because as I passed him my mentality switched from passive (following) to somewhat aggressive (leading). Also, I started to look at my watch and extrapolate what my time at the Dam might be.

There is a vast difference in effort between running to complete and running to compete. Up until the point where I passed Mark, I was running to complete. I wanted to have a solid run from start to finish, irregardless of where I might place or what my time might be. Yet, once I passed Mark, I was running to compete. I like Mark, but I wanted to beat him and even catch some of the guys that were in front at that point.

That being said, I really don't think I was pushing the pace at all. I felt great and was running relaxed, in control. The Hollyburn Chute, the bain of my existence in races past, was enjoyable this time around. It was like I was simply flowing down the trail; I was definitely in a "zone."

As I passed Collingwood School (about 1km from Cleveland Dam), I remember telling myself to start conserving energy, readying myself for the last half of the race. The first half is always easy, especially if you're well trained. But the last half breaks nearly everyone. As the race shirt this year stated: pain and suffering are inevitable.

Cleveland Dam is always my favourite aid station. The body is still functioning as you hope it would and your outlook is still positive and upbeat. The Dam is also the first place where you get a fairly big turnout of family members and friends. It's nearly impossible not to get a boost of adrenaline when you run through this aid station.

I was particularly excited about getting to this point because I knew my wife and son would be there to cheer me on. At first I didn't see them, but some comment about my recent bad haircut captured my attention and I turned back to see the two of them, my son in the baby bjorn, chubby arms and legs waving about. Seeking inspiration and motivation for the hard work that was about to come, I ran up to them and gave them both a kiss.

Little did I know that would be the last good feeling I would have until I reached the finish over three hours later...

PART TWO COMING TOMORROW