Before I even stepped foot on the Divide 200 start line, I felt like I’d won the race. Throughout the summer I had trained for this race by embracing a sense of adventure, spending long days out in the Canadian Rockies exploring my backyard with an enthusiasm I haven’t felt in years. I alternated long fast packs with long runs, building up my resilience and belief in my body’s capacity to withstand any challenge. My enthusiasm was enhanced by the discovery that Dali is a fantastic backpacking dog. She
seems to want nothing more than to join me wherever I go, and I’m happy to have her along. Our partnership out on the trails seems to grow by the day, I’m not sure that I’ve ever had a more loyal and trusting friend. I felt completely at ease while training for The Divide. Out there in the remote wilderness, I felt like I’d found my home. Even if the race was a total disaster, I was so grateful for the process that had brought me to that start line.

The logistics of planning for a 200 mile race were exhausting. I spent days packing and planning for a race which has so much unknown and so many variables, that planning feels like a practice in futility. Regardless, I did my best. By the time we arrived at the pre-race meeting on Monday evening I felt comfortable that I’d done what I could. I’m a big pasta and meat sauce fan, so I took full advantage of the buffet dinner and enjoyed socializing with the other participants before heading back to Sparwood to (hopefully) get a full night’s sleep.

I tossed and turned through the night, which was to be expected. I was sleeping in a strange bed preparing for the longest run of my life. I didn’t stress about the lack of sleep, since my sleep in the week or two leading up to the race had been great.

We arrived at the start line on Tuesday morning with time to spare so I took Dali for a walk. I knew that a week without running with me was going to be hard on her, and I was feeling little pangs of guilt. I pushed those feelings to the side, I didn’t have a clone and there was nothing I could do.

Km 0 – 69

The race began and I tried to run as relaxed as possible. The goal for this first 100 miles was to waste no energy. I chatted with other competitors for a bit before falling into my own rhythm, an effortless hike/shuffle up the gentle incline. I arrived at the first checkpoint within a minute of my predicted time, filled my pack with 2L of water, and headed out on the steep climb up to La Coulotte Ridge. I’d done this route before, but not in this direction so I was excited to have a new perspective. I was fuelling on maple syrup every 30 minutes, and drinking regularly. I didn’t feel fresh, but I did feel fine; I figured “fine” was good enough.

We traversed over many false summits and I embraced the ruggedness of it all. As soon as we hit the more technical terrain I began to pass people. This made me feel good about myself, but also caused me to question whether or not I should slow down. I was constantly questioning my effort level during those first 69km, not sure of what was appropriate or over enthusiastic. I also noticed that my body felt just a little bit off. I wasn’t pushing hard, but whenever I was out of the wind it seemed as though I was sweating much more than normal. Almost like I was running a low-grade fever.

My maple syrup supply ran out, so I moved the empty flasks to a side pocket and transitioned to Eat Mores. A girl came trotting past me as I was re-organizing my pockets during the long descent off the ridge. She was from Pennsylvania and had run several other 200s. She commented that you may as well enjoy the descent now because you’re going to hurt later regardless. Her words held some truth so I allowed myself to cruise a little bit faster on the long descent. Unfortunately, my fun descent was interrupted when I discovered that my maple syrup bottles were not as empty as I thought and they were leaking all over my pack and down my leg. It was Meet the Minotaur all over again.

I decided it was necessary to make a 5 minute stop at a creek to wash off. It was frustrating to have logistical issues so early in a race, but I was pretty sure that the chaffing would be next level if I continued to run covered in maple syrup. Besides, the creek was refreshing.

A couple kms later I arrived at the 2nd checkpoint. The volunteers informed me that I had been flagged as one of the racers whose satellite trackers was lagging. I was using my own personal Zoleo instead of the In Reach trackers provided by the race. When I checked my device it looked to be updating properly, so I decided to just increase the tracking interval from every 30min to every 12min. I also sent Matt a message to make sure he was tracking me okay so that we wouldn’t miss each other at the next aid
station. With that out of the way, I continued the long slog down the trail towards Whistler Mountain.

My legs weren’t feeling particularly fresh on this section so I used a combination of walking and jogging. I filled up a soft flask at a creek, but I wasn’t intending to do a full refill until we began the long climb up the mountain. I didn’t want to carry more weight than necessary. Unfortunately, there was no creek near the base of the Whistler Mountain trail and one soft flask was defininitely not enough water to do the full mountain traverse without getting dehydrated. Dehydration destroys me, so after looking at my map I decided to run a couple hundred metres off-route to get down to the river for a full 2L fill up. While I was running off-route I came across one of the race
directors who was walking up the trail with a backpack full of water. She, of course, was yelling at me to turn around because I was off-course. I explained my situation and she insisted on giving me some water even though we weren’t at a designated aid station. I felt weird about this until she assured me that she was also going to give other runners water and that I wouldn’t be disqualified.

Grateful for my water-laden pack, I began the climb up Whistler Mountain. The red rock and dead trees contrasted beautifully in the evening light. I reached the summit ridge and began the long traverse across to Table Mountain. I hadn’t done this section before, so I was a bit surprised at the constant up and down of the ridge as we traversed multiple false summits. The sun was starting to set and the temperature was perfect. There was just one other racer up there with me (Trevor Meding), and I felt totally in my element.

The descent off Table Mountain is technical, and I was happy to reach the first crewed aid station at Beaver Mines just before sunset. Navigating that descent by headlamp would have been slow going. Matt and my mom were at the aid station ready to crew me. I guzzled a bottle of Gatorade and enjoyed some mashed potatoes. We refilled my pack and grabbed warm clothes for the night. I reapplied KT tape on my feet (bigger strips this time), and added a strip under my bra line where my skin had begun to chafe.

Km 70-135

I left Beaver Mines by headlamp, burger in hand and feeling fantastic. My plan was to walk and eat the burger, but I was feeling so good that I decided to start jogging. In my enthusiasm I choked on a little piece of burger, started coughing, and then threw up all over the trail. It was a rude reminder that I needed to be detail oriented for this run. One mistake, like running while eating, can have big consequences.

I struggled greatly during that first night. Deep waves of fatigue would hit me and I’d feel the urge to sleep even though I hadn’t even been racing for 24hrs. The nausea would come in waves, with dry heaves and stomach contractions stopping me in my tracks. At one point I even lay down beside the trail for a few minutes in an effort to reset. Something I’d never done in a hundred miler, and here I was trying to complete double the distance. I reminded myself that my goals were to “learn, explore, experience.” Quitting would rob me of the opportunity to realize those goals.

When I reached the Syncline Group Campground aid station I had more Gatorade, mashed potatoes and beef jerky. Then I laid down for 15 minutes to hopefully digest the food before I got going again. I’m not sure how effective this strategy was as the rest of my evening was miserable. It was hard to imagine how I would ever cover 200 miles, when I was already feeling this bad only 70 miles into the race. I stumbled along and put one foot in front of the other, motivated by the thought of a hot cup of coffee at the next aid station.

The Lynx Creek aid station is considered a minor checkpoint, so when I got there I was dismayed to discover they had no hot food of any kind. This included coffee. I sat down and allowed myself a moment to wallow. The thought of coffee had been my singular, driving focus for the last hour. While I was wallowing my friend Georgie showed up. I was happy to see a friendly face, even if we were both having rough days. Apparently she hadn’t been able to keep her food down either.

I left the aid station before Georgie, but she had such a strong look of determination on her face I was certain I would see her again. The sun rose as I climbed Willoughby Ridge, and the morning light lit up the landscape in an array of autumn colours. My feet were pretty sore by this point, so that I wasn’t moving up or downhill very quickly, but the views helped to ease my misery. Georgie caught up to me near the top of the climb, and I tried to hang on as long as I could until she trotted off into the distance.

Back on my own, my misery reached a new level. My feet were so sore and I just needed a break. Why couldn’t I catch a break?!

Eventually I stumbled my way into the York Creek aid station. All my crew and pacers were there, and I started to weep. I’d been holding it in for so long, I just needed to let it out. The crew started to work, draining and patching the blisters on my poor feet. Donna wrapped my blister covered pinky toes in this special wool fibre from New Zealand and Marielle applied more KT tape to my heels. We noticed a rash had broken out on my feet and was starting to work it’s way up my ankles, but we didn’t know the cause and my feet weren’t itchy so we ignored it. I drank some coffee, ate some food, and then Skylar and I headed off for a slow but determined 66km loop. Skylar and I didn’t know each other well, but I knew that he’d run across Canada so I was looking forward to having someone to chat with and hearing stories about his incredible adventure.

Km 136 – 201

The trail heading north out of Coleman was really beautiful, with a delightful waterfall. I was surprised that I’d never ran there before! The delightful creek path transitioned into relentlessly steep ATV trails. These trails were so steep that I couldn’t help but laugh. What’s a switch back?

We passed Jen Segger who was having a rough patch, and then she passed us back while I was trying to repair my foot situation. This pattern repeated a couple of times. I couldn’t understand it, but my feet felt like they were on fire! I was really struggling to move at a good pace with so much discomfort.

I didn’t know it at the time, but my race hit a turning point at the Racehorse Pass aid station. Once again, I was stopping to try and fix my feet. I requested a coffee when I arrived, even though I was pretty sure they didn’t have any at this “minor checkpoint.” To my surprise, the photographer at the aid station was able to crush up some coffee beans with a rock and brew me up a cup while I was messing with my feet! The ladies
at the aid station took one look at my feet and diagnosed me as having a KT tape adhesive allergy. Suddenly the rash and sensation as though my feet were on fire was explained. We removed the tape and one of the ladies also introduced me to tincture of benzoin, which is this magical elixir which dries up waterlogged foot callouses. The tincture brought instant relief. I had Leukotape in my first aid kid, so we reapplied that to my rejuvenated feet (Leukotape is what I’ve used in previous races), and we headed off into the sunset.

Between the coffee and foot care I was feeling much more optimistic as we left that aid station. My energy levels were okay, and I could now step on rocks without pain. We cruised along the very undulating High Rock Trail, admiring the Starlink satellites and generally enjoying the night.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end and the end of this section seemed to drag on and on. It felt like we were wondering around in circles, and I was beginning to have weird visual sensations. It seemed like the trail we were on was a skywalk, with sharp drop offs on either side. It was as though we were on a perpetual ridge top. Rocks along the trail also transformed into newspaper confetti, and I struggled to perceive the grade of the trail we were on. I started to poke my poles out ahead of me before I would step to make sure the trail was actually there and to assess whether we were going up or downhill.

Eventually we arrived at another minor checkpoint where I was able to drink some Coke and eat some chips. The Coke helped a bit, but the rest of the leg was a real struggle. Skylar coaxed me along, but I felt as though I was going to stumble and collapse into a sleeping heap at any moment. My brain was in mutiny.

Somehow we made it back to York Creek where I collapsed in a heap in the tent for 2 hours. It was daylight when Matt shook me awake to tell me it was time to get going again. I was treated to a gourmet breakfast of bacon, eggs, pancakes and coffee. Everything was delicious. I was super groggy and probably a little irritable, but my crew coaxed me along.

Km 202 – 242

Leo took over pacing duties from Skylar and we set off on the next 40km section of trail. Leo had run the Cocodona 250 earlier in the year, and crewed for multiple other 200s. He is also a long time friend and I was so grateful that he had agreed to give up his time to help me achieve this dream. I wasn’t very familiar with this section so I was excited to see what it was all about. I also was feeling much better after my nap and I wasn’t having any foot pain, so everything was looking up. Eventually though, the sleep monsters started to get me again and I found myself having trouble focusing. I could not maintain any sort of pace because I felt like at any moment I was just going to fall over. Leo relented and allowed me a 10 minute dirt nap among the horse flies in the heat of the day.

In a normal situation I could never sleep or even lie still with flies landing on me, but in this situation I knew that I had to take advantage of every minute of rest allowed to me. So I rested, and the flies buzzed around, and it was exactly what I needed. After my little nap, I felt that I was able to pick the pace up a bit. I ate some candy and put on some music. I hadn’t used music at all up until this point, but I’ve found it to be an extremely effective motivator if I only use it in small doses.

We had agreed that I could have a 1hr nap when we arrived at the Lost Creek checkpoint, and I was so relieved to lie down and close my eyes. Nap done, I ate some hashbrowns and perogies before heading out into the sunset with my new pacer Marielle.

Km 243-283

Marielle and I have been on many adventures together and she has a quiet confidence about her that fills me with postitive energy. The route over North Kootenay Pass was the crux of the race in my opinion and the primary reason why I felt I needed a pacer on this section. I had attempted to navigate this section once in training and discovered that the route on the west side of the pass was a brutal bushwhack. I quickly lost the track, and wound up taking an alternate, heinous route. The race organizers had promised they would flag this section well, but in my sleep-deprived state I did not trust my eyes or my brains. I was grateful to have a trusted navigator with me.

We didn’t get off route on our way over the pass, but we did miss a turn on our way up it. I’m glad Marielle caught the mistake, because I likely wouldn’t have clued into the error until I’d summited the wrong mountain. While we were finding our way back onto the trail, Dave from Austrailia caught up to us. Dave was quiet and steady and I enjoyed having another person to add to our little pack. We chatted all the way up the pass, and laughed at the ridiculousness that was the steep and technical descent down the other side. The race directors delivered and it was impeccably marked. They’d even cut a trail through the brush, so although the route was rough, there was no bushwhacking.

When we got onto an old service road, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that I had legs to run. I’d been eating a mixture of yogurt tubes, Oreos and lemon cookies up to this point, apparently that was the magic elixir. I put some music on my speaker phone, the letter “W” from my Liked Songs playlist on Spotify, and the 3 of us cruised down the trail.

We came into the aid station belting out “Wrecking Ball” and feeling high on life. The temperature plummeted to freezing levels in the valley so we all layered up in our thermal gear. I ate some chips and drank some Coke before heading off to the last crewed aid station.

I think we lingered for too long at the checkpoint, because I was stiff and not feeling very energetic when we left. Dave leapfrogged ahead and behind us depending on our pace, while Marielle entertained me with bad jokes. As the fatigue set in my eyes struggled to focus, and eventually I had to lay down for a dirt nap. The dirt nap allowed my eyes to focus again, and we arrived at Harvey Creek in the early morning hours.

I had a 1hr nap at Harvey Creek, knowing this was likely my last real sleep before reaching the finish line. I was grateful for a cot, and also grateful to know the finish was within reach. After a breakfast of pancakes and coffee, it was time to head off on the last leg of the journey.

Km 284 – 330

My friend Jamie paced me for the final portion of the race. Jamie is steady and not easily phased. I knew I was going to be ridiculously slow on this section, and I also knew he’d be just fine with that.

I had hoped to run portions of the very flat FSR that we were walking along, but I never managed to coax myself to run more than to a count of one hundred. Physically, I could do more, but mentally I felt so taxed. I had no desire to push.

We worked out an agreement that I could nap for 10 minutes once every 10kms. This was highly motivating for me and I felt much better after each mini-siesta. Also during this time, I had a massive blister finally pop on the side of my heel. Once that had drained and I was able to do one last foot care stop to apply tincture of benzoin (thanks Leo), my feet felt 100%.

We hiked up to the top of Middle Kootenay Pass at a slow but steady pace. The race organization had cleared most of the brush on the pass and I think my gratitude helped to cure some of my general malaise about moving any faster. I had been up this pass in training 2 months earlier and the brush had been nearly inpenetrable.

The fall colours on the pass were so brilliant I thought I might cry. I had worried that my fatigue would act as a barrier to appreciation of the world around me. But now, I was delirious with happiness at the beauty of it all. We began to trot down the steep descent towards the finish line. I was shocked to discover my legs were able to run a little bit. My throat had been too sore over the last several hours to eat much, so I’d been sucking on hard ginger candies. Apparently that strategy was working.

I felt so good on those last few, flat kms to the finish line that I worried about messing it up. I wanted to bottle that feeling forever. I told Jamie that we would walk one minute, run one minute on repeat until we hit the parking lot at the finish area. We reached the finish area and Matt, Leo and Dali were waiting to run us in. I’ve never finished a hundred feeling good, so this was a truly special feeling. I crossed that finish line surrounded by loved ones and feeling lighter than air.

Epilogue

The human capacity to persevere is beyond understanding. The fact that I continued on past that first night when I was feeling so incredibly terrible, is completely illogical. And the fact that over 60 other humans also pushed through their own battles to reach that finish line defies reason. The act of continuing on, when everything inside you cries out for rest, is strangely empowering. There is power on the other side of fatigue, and a morbid curiousity has been awakened. I want to know the nature of this power, and I feel like the Divide 200 was just a taste.

I had a full crew and 4 pacers for this race. My mom, Matt, Donna, Marielle, Skylar, Jamie and Leo all gave up multiple days of their time to help me achieve a rather arbitrary goal. My friend Karen also lent us her condo in Sparwood for the week so that all of us could have a place to shower, sleep, and cook. I think back to all the aid station volunteers, many of them working 18hrs+ to ensure runners are safe, crushing coffee beans with rocks so that I can have my caffeine fix! All of this reminds me that humans are basically good and want the best for each other. If you ever lose faith in humanity, just go to an ultra and your faith will be restored.

What would I do differently for the next one? (yes, there will be a next one).

• I’ll continue to work on filing off the callouses on my feet so that I won’t have chronic blister issues. I’d been filing off the callouses for the month prior to the race, but I really need to do this continuously for the rest of my life.
• I’ll use leukotape. I’ve used it in the past with good results. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
• Much more yogurt and cookies. I brought along yogurt tubes on some sections of the race. They went down so well and felt great on my sore throat. I should have had many more tubes. Oreos and lemon cookies also always went down very easily.
• Tincture of benzoin.
• More running in training. I don’t regret how I trained for this event with lots of hiking, however I think future performance could be improved with more actual run volume.

Thanks for reading and I hope you find happiness on the trails!