On April 7th Nathalie and I (James) lined up
early in the morning for our first 100 mile (160km) ultra. Following our 120km
ultra in France last year (and Nat’s 3rd place finish among the
women), Nat became interested in the idea of trying to qualify for the Ultra
Trail du Mont Blanc (UTMB), one of the pinnacle ultra-distance races in the
world. With the limited options for qualifying races and trying to work around our
AR schedule, we landed on the Zion Ultra, a race just outside of Zion National
Park in Utah. Given the long winter in the Ottawa-Gatineau area, training for a
100-mile ultra in April is not an easy thing to do. We did the best we could,
combining snowshoe running, trail running on snow (when possible), road
running, and alpine ski touring (a great workout for the climbing muscles). But
I could not help being quite worried about entering such a long running race
under-trained, and the risk of injury that this might pose for both of us.
Nevertheless, we lined ourselves up for the 6:00am start, not really knowing
how things would go.
The race basically featured 4 steep climbs up to the top of
different mesas (flat top mountains), where we would do one or more loops,
often along the edge of the mountain, making for some very scenic views along
the way. There was not a ton of elevation, but it almost all occurred in 4
climbs. The first of these was about 3km in the race. Nat and I both started
out near the front of the pack of about
250 racers, not wanting to get caught in the traffic jam that we’d been told
occurs part way up the first climb where there’s a short rope section up a
steep rock face. As we ran along at a comfortable pace, Nat was all smiles, commenting
“I wish adventure races all started this slowly!” After a while I pulled away a
little from Nat as we continued to climb. I was feeling good and the pace was
reasonable. We both thought that this was the last time we would likely see
each other before the end of the race, so we wished each other a good race and
parted ways.
Around the 35km mark, something went very wrong for me. One
minute I was feeling great and the next minute my body was cooked. I’ve bonked
before and this didn’t feel like a bonk. I’ve been dehydrated before and this
didn’t feel like that either. It just felt like I hit a wall without any
warning and very early into the race. It didn’t make any sense to me, but it
was very real and I needed to do something about it. We were on a very flat
smooth rock section of the course, yet I still couldn’t even jog. My hunch was
(and still is) that a few months of work and life related busy-ness and stress (some
good and some not so good - but the body still registers it all as stress)
caught up to me. At that point, since I was in the middle of nowhere, my only
choice was to walk to the next aid station. So I walked the next 5 or 6 kms to
the aid station, expecting that Nat would pass me at any time. Once I got to
the aid station, I decided I would wait for Nat to arrive and then try to run
with her. If I couldn’t keep up, I would just try to put-put along to see if I
could just finish the race.
A few minutes later, Nat arrived with a concerned “what the
hell are you doing here???!!!” when she saw me (I found out that this was
because she originally thought I had stopped on purpose to wait and run with
her). I explained the situation and off we went together. I quickly learned
that Nat had been quite busy during the first 40km… busy making trail buddies.
It seemed that every time we passed or were passed by somebody, Nat would say
“this is my new friend (insert name here)” and they would start talking like
old friends...
Despite still not feeling well, I was able to keep pace with
Nat, although I could tell I was working harder than she was most of the time.
She was moving along at a nice steady rhythm and looking strong the whole time.
The course was filled with amazing views, excellent and somewhat technical
single track, double track, wide open smooth rock flat mountain top trails, and
a few long gravel road sections, making for a nice variety.
At about the 90km mark was a steep descent to an aid station
only to return up the same way we came down. We started down the rocky
technical downhill and Nat led the way, setting a great pace. I struggled to
keep up as she continued to gain speed and confidence as we bombed down the
mountain. It seemed that the further we got down the mountain, the stronger and
faster Nat got and the more I struggled. The aid station at the bottom was both
a literal and figurative low point in the race for me. I struggle to remember a
time I’ve felt this bad in any long distance race. I was spent and not entirely
clear on why or how to make it better. I ate and drank and just tried to calm
my body down, but things were not getting better. I suggested to Nat that she
should just head out without me, as we guessed that she was likely in the top 5
women at this point, to which she kindly
(but firmly) informed me that she wanted to stay with me and help me keep
going, as long as I was willing. So I asked her for a few more minutes of rest
before heading out to the big climb back up. As we finally started to climb
back up the mesa, we soon saw 3 women coming down to the aid station. I felt
bad for Nat, as I knew I had cost her an extra 10 minutes or so at the aid
station and now there were a few women hot on her heels. Surprisingly, I felt
better on the climb out than I had felt on the descent, so I tried to pick up the
pace a little to get some of that time back that we had lost, while taking a
few short breaks as we climbed.
Night fell quickly as we continued on this climb. I slowly
started to feel better as we kept a quick but steady fast-hiking pace in the
somewhat technical single-track trails. I felt like we could make good time in
the night as it’s something that we are quite used to doing in AR. So I just
focused on moving forward without pushing myself into a big energy deficit.
Meanwhile, Nat just plugged away, always looking strong and being positive and
supportive.
We finally arrived at the final “section” of the race, which
consisted of 3 loops (red, white, and blue) all leaving and finishing at the
same aid station before heading for the finish line. Here we would potentially
get a better sense of how many women were ahead or close behind us on the
course. As we arrived, Nat spotted one woman who seemed to be already starting
the blue trail, meaning she was likely a couple hours ahead. Then out of the
dark came an older woman who had passed us before dark – earlier she had gone
by us jogging uphill on a gravel road, which was quite impressive considering
her age and the point in the race. We assumed that she was completing the red
trail, which meant she had put 8km on us. But she informed Nat that she had
blown up on the trail and was just coming in to the aid station for the first
time (like us). Needless to say, this put a little fire under Nat’s butt. The
best description for the rest of the ~40km of the race from this point on is
“running scared”. Nat set a fast hiking pace on all the uphills and ran all the
flats and downhills - certainly faster than I think I would have done if I were
running alone at that point. Each time back into the aid station was just like
old times in AR – Nat transitioning very quickly, then checking her watch and
impatiently waiting to get moving.
As we finally left the last aid station for the last time,
Nat was convinced that the older woman would show up any time and blow past us.
We headed out for what was listed as a 10km leg to the finish line. Shortly
after leaving we both ran into blister problems. I could feel that the entire
tip of my little toe on my left foot was blistered like a water balloon and
with each step I could feel the swooshing of the fluid, expecting it to pop
with each step (which it eventually did). Nat rarely gets blisters, but had
been struggling with very sore feet from the pounding on the road, so she
changed shoes when we first got to the last aid station and it appeared that
this was not a good decision. Less than 1km after leaving on the leg to the
finish her blister popped and it was clearly very painful. She screamed and
hopped and stumbled, but refused to stop, fearing that we would be caught any minute
by the woman behind. Instead she just focused on watching the kms to the finish
roll down on her GPS watch. She had also given me my assignment – keep looking
back to see if the other woman was coming.
The next 10kms were a combination of excitement to finish,
agony over blisters and the beating our bodies had taken, worry about who may
be catching up, and a very narrow focus on just getting to the finish line. Nat
continued to check her watch every few minutes, always disappointed by how
little ground we had covered since the last time she checked. We passed a few
guys along the way, most of whom Nat knew from earlier in the race. Finally we
got to the 158km mark of the race. Nat proudly exclaimed that there were only
2kms left and set her focus on just pushing through them. Almost as soon as she
made this remark, we encountered a support person coming up the trail towards
us. Surely this was a good sign that we were close. He gave us a big smile and
a congratulations, saying “Only 2.5 miles to go!” Wait WHAT???? Surely he meant
2.5kms… So Nat asked him again for the distance. He showed us on his GPS watch
and then informed us that the race was, in fact, not 100 miles, but actually
over 102 miles. Nobody had informed us of this, and Nat was clearly wrecked by
this news. She had carefully calculated her energy to give it all she had to
get to the finish line and with 2km to go, after nearly 26 hours of running,
the finish line moved by nearly 4kms. The next few kms were a combination of
exhaustion, frustration, fear of being passed, and physical agony from
expecting to be off our feet by then. Each time we would crest a hill, we
expected to be able to see the finish line in the distance, only to be met by
another hilltop ahead. When we finally did see the finish line off in the
distance, the feeling was mainly one of relief. Nobody close behind and
downhill all the way to the finish line.
We crossed the line in just over 26 hours and 10 minutes.
After asking race officials and getting the printouts, Nat was informed that
she had finished 3rd among the women (finishing about 50 minutes
ahead of the 4th place woman) and 35th and 36th
overall. She ran a great technical and tactical race, took good care of her
body, and was even willing to give up her race to help me get to the finish
line. While it was not the race I was hoping for, I’m very happy that Nat and I
ended up running most of it together, and I know that she enabled me to finish much
faster than I could have finished if I had raced alone. It’s truly amazing to
witness her pushing her limits and persevere through everything. And although
we have raced together in France and now at Zion, I am very impressed by the
fact that in both cases she has insisted on doing these ultras completely on
her own – refusing to take even a piece of food from me during the race. While
the merits of teamwork are endless, there’s something very empowering about
knowing you were able to achieve a personal goal all on your own.
Congratulations and Thank You to Nathalie for this race.
