Canadian Death Race: enduring the suck with joy

I’ve been thinking about that pesky interview question, “what would you say is your biggest weakness?” As much as I dislike answering this question I love to ask it, or a variation of it. What am I looking for in the answer? I want to know if the person in front of me is self-aware. Are they actively engaged in their own self improvement? Am I? One of my biggest weaknesses was on full display at the Canadian Death Race (CDR) this weekend. I am not as conscientious as I’d like to be. Ultra running, it turns out, requires a high degree of this trait. Coming off my first upset at the Sinister 7 in 2023, I thought I learned to ramp up this trait when tackling these things. I went in to the 2023 CDR with a plan, and executed it well. As a result, I beat my 2015 time by about 3 hours. I forgot, or got complacent, or was lulled into a false sense of security, or got lazy, or prideful, or … well, Death caught me. I’ve taken two upsetting DNFs in a row now.

To be fair to me, I am a self-taught amateur at this sport. And to be honest, pretty much everyone in this sport is in the same boat. It turns out that running really long trail races is hard. I am naturally a little above average in terms of endurance and athleticism. I am below average in conscientiousness, but I am working on it.

Race	Year	Distance	Time	Place
Mad Moose Ultra	2014	64k	7:28:07	4/7
Canadian Death Race	2015	118k	22:18:17	81/326
Beaverhead	2017	100k	19:11:26	43/45
Sinister 7	2023	100 miles	DNF	DNF
Canadian Death Race	2023	100k	18:52:49	46/171
Ironhorse Ultra	2023	100k	12:19:14	5/51
Oldman Backyard Ultra	2024	100 miles	24 hours	N/A
Sinister 7	2024	100 miles	DNF	DNF
Canadian Death Race	2024	118k	DNF	DNF

What went wrong?

I was lulled into a false sense of security with the weather. The morning was relatively cool and overcast. I made the classic amateur mistake of going out too fast. I finished leg 1, in 1 hour and 23 minutes. I’d have been better off holding back and aiming for a time of an hour and 35 minutes. The weather forecast was for a high of 26 degrees. Turns out, that is plenty hot to cook me. I abandoned my strategy of taking a salt tablet every 30 minutes. I didn’t even bring them with me! I figured I was getting enough sodium and other things through my electrolyte rich beverages. This was not the case at all. Why do I abandon my hard won knowledge and experience so easily?

Somewhere around kilometer 10, of leg 2, I could tell I was sliding into a bad place. I slowed down, I tried to hydrate, I just kept declining. At kilometer 19 of Leg 2 is an aid station. I hung out there for 30 to 45 minutes. I hydrated and rested. I was fighting heat exhaustion. I had chills and generally felt like crap. I considered bailing out right then. What I could have done was waited for my running buddy Lewis to catch up to me. That would have been another 30 minutes or so. I am learning that once you are in this kind of decline it is very difficult to pull yourself out of it. It is better not to get there at all. The healing agent of most importance in these situations appears to be time.

At the end of leg 2 I took some time at the transition. I waited for Lewis to come in before I left. My team worked hard to bring my temperature down. I took some Tylenol, a couple salt tablets (but didn’t take any with me when I left). I felt fairly good leaving TA 2. I thought I might have succeeded in dragging myself out of my heat exhaustion. The first 10k of leg 3 were speedy. I should have slowed down and used all of leg 3 as a recovery lap. I did not.

I rolled into the kilometer 17 aid station on leg 3 in rough shape. I felt like absolute garbage. I took a seat for a couple minutes and drank some water. I picked up a bag of chips, filled my water bottles, and reluctantly set out for the final 3k of this leg. I made it about 200 meters before I began violently throwing up. 4 or 5 expulsions of liquid from my gut made me feel much better. I walked the remaining 3k to the end of Leg 3. I arrived with more than an hour an 15 minutes before the cut off time at 7:45 pm.

I told myself I would take all of the time I had before the cut off to get in a better physical state. If I felt that I could put down and keep down food and liquids I would head out. I managed to drink a cup of broth. Unfortunately, I could tell that it wasn’t going to stay down if I gave in to my desire to exert myself. My right leg was also freaking out. I was cramping badly. I felt the chances were high that I’d be a liability on the course so, I made the call to quit.

I may be a little hyper-sensitive. In each of my DNF performances I look back and wonder if I couldn’t have pushed on. My experience pushing through the Beaverhead in 2019 has made me a little gun shy. Yes, I could probably have finished all of these races (though I’ll never know that for sure). Racing is hard, and there is absolutely a deep element of suck. Such as getting stung by hornets twice on this run! That’s just rude. The goal, however, is not to simply endure that suck. The goal is to be in the kind of shape, and the kind of mental state, that will allow you to enjoy the adventure in spite of the suck. I just reread my blog post from my 2023 CDR performance. It was arguably my best ultra running performance. It was also full of joy. I am going to learn to replicate that.

What went right?

My feet seemed to do fairly well. Lisa pre-taped my trouble spots. Still, it is hard to know if that would have lasted another 54k. My crew is awesome. The race is well put together. I love the atmosphere, the great volunteers, the community, the course (though I could do without the powerline decent on leg 2). This is a fantastic race all around.

I will go into my next race with a better battle plan. Some things I’ve learned over these last two races:

• Take your time! Slow down. If you have more to give, give it at the end.
• I need to be absolutely religious about my electrolyte intake. This sounds easy, but it is really hard for me.
• Every piece of gear I use needs to be battle worn (thoroughly tested). Sometimes this is not possible but be cautious.
• Ultra-running, like life, isn’t about how much suck you can endure. It is about being in the kind of mental and physical shape necessary to endure the suck with joy.

A word on failure.

After my last race many people told me not to consider it a failure. I understand the sentiment. We want to protect the people we care about from the feeling of failure. It is uncomfortable. It may even inspire us to give up altogether. I appreciate all the encouraging words and the desire to help me see the positive side of things. I have good people in my life.

We all need to get a little more comfortable with the uncomfortable feeling of failure. It is okay. I failed to complete this race and the one before that. Still, I’ve learned some good lessons. With grace I’ll be able to apply some of that learning. When I interview people I ask them uncomfortable questions like: tell me about your weaknesses, or tell me about a time you made a mistake that negatively impacted others, or tell me about an uncomfortable working relationship that didn’t get better. I don’t ask these questions to be a jerk. I’m looking to see if this person can own mistakes, if they can be reflective, if they are self-aware. I want to know that the people my organization will hire are comfortable getting uncomfortable. Why? Because I am going to ask them to do some difficult things with me, and it’s quite possible we are going to fail at it repeatedly before we get it right. If you succeed at everything you do, I have to wonder if you are challenging yourself.

I failed. I am okay with that. At least in this moment, I am okay. I’m sure I’ll cry about it later. Like, off and on for years. 😉