DNF

Did Not Finish. Excuse me, what!? I knew this was a possibility. In fact, one of the things I like about ultra running is the real possibility of failure. Failure still stings though. This is the first DNF I’ve ever recorded in an event. I came close on my first olympic distance triathlon when I missed a turn on the run, cutting out a couple hundred meters. The race directors gave me a time penalty instead of a DNF and I was grateful.

I hoped that I would be successful in my first attempt at 100 miles. It wasn’t to be. Of course, I picked a whopper of a course. The Sinister 7 is formidable. This is a course with lots of single track, technical trails. It rises and falls more than 20,000 feet over that 100 miles. The average completion rate is just a little more than 30%. It’s not an easy race. Still, I think I was physically and mentally equal to the challenge. I worried about my fitness level but I think I was there. Fuelling the body on any long run takes practice and training. It is here where things fell apart.

What Happened?

Leg 1 went just fine. I had good pacing and felt great. Both my feet developed hot spots on my insteps. This was strange but Lisa taped me up at the transition area and I wouldn’t have any other issues. In the 24 hours before the race I drank a ton of gatorade, about 4 litres. I did a lot of peeing. So when I started the race with a bit of an urge to go I wasn’t too surprised. I ignored it. I figured I’d need to go somewhere along the route anyway. I made it to the end of Leg 1 before scratching that itch. In retrospect, I should have known then that I was already starting toward dehydration despite drinking more than a litre of Tailwind infused water on that cool morning 18.3k.

Leg 2 had some gnarly ups and downs. At around 30k I was coming down a steep section and going over an upturned tree when I stubbed my right toe. My right calf went immediately into a full cramp. This was the real indication that I wasn’t keeping up with my electrolytes. I started drinking more, it wouldn’t be enough. Still, I felt pretty good at the end of Leg 2. I finished the 35k of leg 1 & 2 in good spirits but physically worse than I thought I was. I was eating fine, drinking, but not clued in to how rapidly I was losing electrolytes.

Leg 3 started well. I moved through to the first check point in good time. I can’t say exactly how much time because I forgot to turn my watch back on. I deliberately avoided looking at my watch until after the first check point. I was not happy to discover it hadn’t been tracking me since the start. I passed a number of streams along the way. I thought about stopping and dipping my hat in the cool water each time. I didn’t. I pressed on. About half way into this 31k leg there were a couple runners cooling off in a little stream. Suddenly one of them yelled out “Oh, Gross! That is a human turd!” Apparently, someone had taken a rather impressive crap in the stream just a few feet up from where they were joyfully bathing. They got back to running and I listened to them retching and complaining for at least 10 minutes. I wasn’t going to be cooling off in any streams any time soon.

At check point 2 on leg 3 my dehydration was taking a turn for the worse. They call this section of the trail Satan’s Sac. It gets hot. There is no shade due to a forest fire some years back wiping out the trees. I fell in with a runner named Greg somewhere along this section. He was good to talk to. He helped take my mind off my rapidly deteriorating state. I wasn’t drinking enough. When we rolled into the last check point I found a seat. Immediately my right calf went into an ugly cramp. I couldn’t help but cry out. Runners are awesome people. The lady at the aid station came to my rescue. A fellow runner asked if I had salt tablets (I didn’t) and then proceeded to give me 4 tablets from her stash. I took 2 right away. They helped. Greg pushed 4 more tablets on me. He stuck around to see that I was good to go. We’d run the remainder of Leg 3 together.

At this point I was a solid 9 hours into the race (probably more). I’d hoped to be finishing leg 3 around that time but I still had another 7k to go. The aid station volunteer asked me when the last time I peed was… Not since the end of leg 1. She laughed. I was not in a good place. She helped me formulate a plan – drink the 1.2 litres of Tailwind in my pack by the end of this leg and then get those salt tablets down. In retrospect, I should have sucked down as much of that 1.2 litres as I could right then and filled up again. I should have also taken at least 4 of the remaining 6 salt tablets I’d been given. Maybe that would have helped me crawl out of the hole I’d dug myself.

I did drink that 1.2 litres before I finished the final 7k of Leg 3. I wasn’t in a good place when I rolled in. I thought I might be alright with a quick rest. I was feeling the urge to relieve myself. Urine is not supposed to be that colour. Also, there should be much more of it when you need to go. I was well and truly dehydrated. Lisa, Leah, Jaron, and Kim and the kids scrambled to get me what I needed. I sat for a while, drank some pickle juice, ate some pickles, a banana and drank what I could. Mentally I was ready to get going. My legs had other ideas. I wish I could say, “shut up legs,” force myself to my feet and push on. That wasn’t going to happen. I took in the remainder of the salt tablets and drank what I could stomach.

My calves started cramping. Cramps were coming and going in my quads and my triceps. The bottoms of both feet were locking up. This is a unique kind of pain. Kim helped straighten my legs as they went into spasms. about 20 minutes into the transition I pretty much knew it was the end. I was already a solid hour behind and it was becoming clear I wasn’t going to be in moving shape for some time. It was two hours from the time I rolled in to when I let the race directors know I was calling it. This was a frustrating moment. I’d more or less overcome the cramping and I believe could have pushed on but without enough time to finish in under 30 hours. Heart wrenching. I considered racing the next cut-off and not leaving the course till I missed a cut-off. It was tempting, but Beaverhead 2017 was on my mind and I couldn’t be sure what kind of damage I’d be doing to my body. I swallowed my pride and called it. I will live to race another day.

People are kind and generous. They like to tell me that 66k is a long way and I should be proud of listening to my body and knowing when to quit. They aren’t wrong. Nevertheless, it is disappointing to have fumbled my nutrition and electrolytes so badly. It was the right thing to throw in the towel. I felt pretty horrible that night. Pressing on might have had me in a hospital.

What’s next?

I see this race as just a plot point in a story of redemption. I’ve not given up on that 100 mile goal. I’ve got my eye on the Iron Horse 100 in September. I may give that a go. It runs right through my town. I think we can expect to see me back at Sinister 7 next year. The immediate future is a step back in time. I’ve secured a bib for the Canadian Death Race in Grand Cache. This is a 118 kilometre race with 17,000 feet of elevation gain. I completed it in 2015 before it was bought up by Sinister Sports. It’ll be interesting to see how it has grown. This weekend my son and I are running a 10k obstacle course – a Spartan Race – in Red Deer. Hopefully my next post will be a story of success.