Nicki Rehn

Extreme crazy carpeting......really?

2012-02-19T22:35:00.013-07:00

Girls have got to have fun. So we invented a new "sport". Why is tobogganing relegated to the arena of small children in city parks, anyway? Adults interested in the sport take up luge or skeleton and go to the Olympics. There has to be something in between and something that combines our love of the backcountry with a whole lot of silliness. And now there is.....

Jen, Ange, Claire and I suited up, swung by Canadian Tire for our $2.99 speciality equipment requirements, and headed to Chester Lake. You need: ski helmets, gortex, impenetrable gloves, snowshoes, knowledge of avalanche terrain, a thermos of coffee (or a flagon of whisky), a piece of plastic, and a loud, squealy voice. Check.

I can honestly say that I have not laughed that hard for that long.....ever. We climbed up above Chester Lake to the very cool Elephant Rocks, and then up the ridge and over into the back bowl where we found some super deep powder. We put some lines down on a short steep slope, which involved snow going in places it shouldn't and some experimental techniques to get the carpets to ride a top of the powder, rather than bury your face into it. It was all just a warm-up for the grand spectacle and the raison d'etre.....the 5.5 km return skeleton ride down the ski out.

The only incident of the day was when I banked this awesome turn and I kind of got sliding sideways, off the edge of the trail, and straight into a tree. I have never had a tree stop my speed so abruptly before. I wouldn't recommend it. I think I felt my spine move a little to one side. Between that and the pelvic bruising from lying on your stomach in full lotus pose while screaming down a bumpy trail, I am pretty battered.....but it was definitely worth it.

We think we finally nailed the correct crazy carpet technique by the end. Claire got us started with some butterfly arm action to collect momentum, then it's snowshoes up, knees up and arms back - kind of like a swan dive without the dive part. Swooosh!

We all landed in the car park like a giggling sack of potatoes. Exhausted. Bruised. Thrilled.

Ange is about to eat a mouthful of sweetness

Oh boy....what kind of trouble can this four get up to?

At the Elephant Rocks.

Winter returns

2012-02-19T22:10:00.005-07:00

They say it is a really mild winter here in Calgary, but compared to Perth, it doesn't really matter how mild it is.....it is still winter. But I'm not complaining......too much. At least I can run in the middle of the day and re-wear my clothes for multiple workouts, unlike that week back in Australia when it was over +40 every day.

I think that jet lag is mostly behind me and I am getting back into the swing of life in Canada, which includes playing in the mountains (first priority), catching up with friends, doing some work, and hunkering indoors more often than I would like. It is only February, but I am already focused on my race goals. Well, one big goal: Tor Des Geants. The rest is candy water.

First up is Miwok 100 in the Marin Headlands, San Francisco. That's if you don't count the 12-hr night rogaine that I did the day before I left Australia. The 75-km bush run was actually a pretty good way to kick off the season. Miwok is in early May. Apparently it is quite runnable so I'm practising running. It sounds obvious, but I tend to pretend that mountain trekking, skiing and snowpulsing (someone once told me that was Norwegian for "trying to run in snow") count as running training. It doesn't.

Of course, I am still mountain trekking, skiing and doing other silly things in the snow. This week I filled my training log with stair repeats, Nose Hill repeats, snowy mountain repeats, and some ski touring. I'm looking forward to my early season 'running events' (I'm also doing the Calgary Marathon), but my mind is firmly fixed on Italy.

I guess I can say, it is "sort-of" good to be back.

Back on the ol' favourite....Prairie Mtn

And hanging out with my peeps on a cold day.

Man versus God

2012-01-29T16:42:00.002-07:00

It must be a pyrotechnics's worst nightmare. The 2012 Australia Day fireworks were completely outdone by a simultaneous lightning display. It was incredible. Fireworks have never seemed so dull.

The electrical storm broke the 42 degree day bringing huge relief and a "stop dead in your tracks" spectacle. The battle between nature and the feeble human attempt to replicate it was very one-sided. It was a good reminder to appreciate the beauty implicit in the simple and the wild.

Photo from PerthNow.com

You would have done the same

2012-01-18T21:50:00.006-07:00

I mean, look at this place.

And right now it is negative 30-something in Calgary and positive 30-something in Perth. Positive 38 degrees to be exact.

I made a pros and cons table: Stay in Perth versus go back to Calgary. On the "Stay in Perth" side I listed:
- 5.30 am barefoot training runs on the beach
- champagne and marinated octopus for dinner while watching the sunset over the ocean (any night of the week)
- not wearing shoes
- more time with my family
- training my brains out
- becoming a road cyclist again
- my boyfriend is here
- body surfing

Sure, I miss my friends and would like to go skiing, but seriously......I keep thinking about scraping snow and ice from my windscreen in a -30 degree blizzard and waking up at 2 pm with jet lag just to catch the 'sun' disappearing on the horizon. It's just plain dark and cold there.

So, I am staying. Another week. At least.

Life is short, people, and I have decided to live a little crazier this year.

A gooey start to the year

2012-01-03T23:35:00.009-07:00

I always say the best way to ring in the New Year is with a good night’s sleep. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I saw the clock tick over midnight. Lame, you might say, but January 1^st began at 5:00 am this year. We had the boat in the water by 6:00 am and we were heading out to a lone rocky outcrop in the middle of the sea. Mission Abalone. I have never seen an abalone, nor eaten one, but I hear they are quite a delicacy. Could have something to do with the price, or like most delicacies, they are all gooey and gross-looking, or that the hunting season is exactly one hour long on New Years morning. All I know is that I risked life and limb to join the hunt and that made them taste particularly delicious. There was a good swell throwing big waves across the shallow reef that surrounded the rock so I was a bit reluctant to get in the water with my snorkel. Not to mention the overcast skies and black ocean that created a distinct shark-ish ambiance. Thank goodness Guilio is an uber abalone-getter and we seemed to be mining the abalone mothership as it only took 12 minutes to reach the bag limit. It was good to be back on the boat instead of being thrown around in a violent shark-infested washing machine. But as Guilio said, "it is always a more fun when you are a bit scared". Agreed.

A few days later I went paddling on the worlds gooiest river with my sister's partner and up-and-coming multisport star, Pete. In some spots of the Swan River, there is a greater volume of jelly than water. And I HATE jellyfish. I considered it very brave to head out with nothing but a surf ski between me and the ultimate jellyfish bath. I was determined not to fall in, but Pete was determined that I would. He tricked me into switching boats on the far side so that I was left to paddle his ultra-tippy, full carbon, performance surf ski back. And tip I did. Three times. And I swear I touched jelly.

Soooo, it's been a good start to the year. I'm going to pretend that the world will end in December and go crazy.

The 6-inch marathon

2011-12-19T19:45:00.005-07:00

I have NO idea why it is called the 6-inch marathon as there is nothing six inches about it. But I jumped at the opportunity to sneak in a little end-of-seasoner in my homeland. On the Nicki scale of ultra-marathons, this one is just itty-bitty at 46 km and 1050 m of elevation gain. But it hurt.

The gun went off at 4.30 am. You include the fact that I had to drive from Perth and then do the math backwards and it makes for a VERY early start - like 2.30 am. That is definitely on the ridiculous scale, but December in the hills can deliver scorching temperatures. By the time the sun was beating down on us at 7.00 am, I consented that it was a good idea to start that early.

The race begins with a one mile climb up the escarpment. They award the "king of the mountain" to the first male and female to reach the top, but I figured it would be a stupid strategy to blow myself up in the first 10 minutes just to prove I can climb. Instead, I settled into the Nicki-power walk and reached the top in the front middle of the pack.

We quickly joined the Munda Biddi track and disappeared into the bush. The route follows a mostly wide double track, covered in loose and very annoying pea gravel. There are a couple of nicer, windy single-track sections but they were short-lived. I realised that living in the Canadian Rockies has spoilt and ruined me for trail running. There were no 360 degree views of hanging glaciers with perfect trails disappearing into the meadowy back-country for as far as the eye could see and towering mountains all around. Nope. Just pea gravel, suffocating bush, and a boring track. But I am not complaining - just expressing appreciation for what I have back 'home' in Canada.

Being that there was no vista to take my mind off things, I focused on just running through the fatigue and pain. It was a tough day at the office, that's for sure. I had to resort to some walk breaks in the last 15 km because I'm not used to running continuously for so long. Just a few kilometers from the end, I heard my name called out, "Is that you, Nicki?". I don't really know anyone in the ultra or running crowd in Perth, but Glen recognized me from rogaining. We exchanged attackpoint aliases because that's the only way I identify my orienteering/rogaine peeps in WA. It also gave me a bit of a burst of encouragement and I was able to power to the end in Dwellingup and finish strong. 4 hr 46 min was a little slower than I had hoped, but it was a very satisfying morning regardless. I came 7th female.

Kick-starting the aussie vacation

2011-12-15T04:17:00.010-07:00

It's been a whirlwind first couple of weeks here in Australia. Mostly I've been showing-off my homeland to the lovely Keith Brodsky and Leslie Gerin. They very quickly slipped into the beachy, summery rhythm of life here. We BBQ'd and picnicked and ran on the beach, we visited the farm, and they met all my friends (and their bazillion kids). Then we went down south for the real good stuff.....wine.

The south west of WA has some of the best coastline in the world.....and too many wineries to count. I love pretending to be all bourgeois for a day and faking the fact that I can taste the difference between a Shiraz and a Merlot. I still don't know what a Tempranillo is, but I think I said something like, "mmm.....peppery, with some licorice tones". We also did the foodie tour, alternating wine then cheese, wine then chocolate, wine then olives, wine then kangaroo salami. Needless to say, we ended up with a car full of overpriced nibblies and fancy wine.

Then it started raining. My bad. I promised Keith and Leslie that it never rains in Australia in the summer. But boy, did it rain. Fortunately, it did not deter our plans for a long coastal run. I returned to the Bibbulmun Track because I wanted to give Leslie a taste of the 19-day adventure I experienced here a few years ago. I picked my favourite section - 38 km from the Tree Top Walk to Peaceful Bay. This section has it all......ancient Karri forest, coastal scrub, white beaches, sand hills, rock-hopping....and A LOT of rain. It was fun to read my entries in the log book and remember all the good and the tough times. The temperature remained around 19 degrees despite the deluge and we got to scream "Is that all you've got" into the wind from the top of a coastal cliff overlooking Antarctica.

The tour then took us to the Stirling Ranges so that I could take Keith and Leslie to the second highest point in Western Australia (Bluff Knoll at a towering 1095 m). The unseasonal weather followed us and so we were socked in on the climb and saw nothing from the summit. The exercise was good, though. Leslie and I also did a bonus scramble up Mt Toolbrunup, a mountain that always seems to surprise me with how technical it is....particularly with zero visibility.

No tour of the SW is complete without a visit to the Katanning Slide Park. Some ingenious (and probably bored) engineer designed and built a made-for-adults playground in a middle-of-nowhere small country town. It's free. It's dangerous. And every time I go, I can't believe that it hasn't been taken down for legal reasons. I mean, those slides are GIANT. And rickety. As expected, someone got hurt -Keith slide over his own foot at high speed. Ouch!

The rest of my time home as been sprinkled with a bit of work, a lot of body surfing, sunset picnics, and family time.

Next up...... a little ultra-marathon and the Slater-family Christmas insanity.

Fascinating Expedition Adventure Talks

2011-12-09T20:56:00.003-07:00

I had the honor and privilege of sharing the stage with some amazing adventurers for the first ever FEAT Canada - an evening of TED-style talks in conjunction with the Vancouver International Mountain Film Festival.

The theatre was filled with incredible energy and an audience who hooted and hollared and laughed at all the right spots.

I spoke about running, of course, and here is the link to my 7 minute speech:

FEAT - Nicki

Seriously grateful

2011-11-27T02:40:00.008-07:00

Today I entered into an exercise in gratefulness. Not sure why. Just felt like a good idea. It just seemed like today was a gift.....like everyday, really.

This is was what my day gave me:

I had a spectacular sleep-in and actually woke up when my body was ready for it. I was thankful for my ultra comfy duvet.

Then I drove to pick up my gorgeous friend, Jen Silverthorn, and while driving through the city, the sun rose and sprayed the entire of Nose Hill in the most warm, peachy morning light I have ever seen. Pure magic, it was.

Because I own a car and am able to deck it out with winter tires, I drove out the mountains (which are conveniently located in my backyard) and I enjoyed a fairyland of new snow in the forest and some perfect XC skiing. I was thankful that I can ski, am fit enough to power around a 2.5 hr loop without too much effort, and that I could whiz down a hill with the entire of K-country spread out before me and the wind in my hair. I think I squealed. I know I squealed. I am also thankful for a lot of very cool girlfriends who like to come play in the mountains with me, like Nadja and Liza and Jen, who joined me today.

I got to watch that same sun set, and then enjoy a fabulous homemade pizza dinner with my dear friends Jen and Claire, who came over to wish me well. I was driven to the airport, then flew to Vancouver where my wonderful boyfriend met me with a rose at midnight and sat with me while I waited for my flight to Hong Kong. And at the end of all this......I'll end up on the beach in Australia.

How can one girl get so fortunate? That was just one day. And it was that easy to recognize it.

PS. On a side note, I love flying across the world on big jumbo jets. You feel like you are floating above the entire earth, suspended by an ocean of air and physics. Which I guess you are. I just love airplanes. I wonder where I get that from....?

The yoga bender

2011-11-19T22:35:00.009-07:00

I am a reluctant convert to yoga. Very reluctant. I always thought it was a poor excuse for a sissy sport. A bit harsh, you think? Well, at the time I had never tried it and I couldn't even touch my toes, so it was easy to foo-foo.

My introduction to yoga came when I was preparing for a March adventure race in the desert of Mexico. Someone suggested hot yoga as a way of getting in some heat training. I agreed to show up and sit in the hot room for an hour, but I sure wasn't going to do any of those weird poses. But, of course I did. And boy-o-boy was I humbled. Yoga is HARD!

Since then I have been dabbling. Occasionally I would manage to do two sessions in a week (when the weather was really cold), but mostly I just fit it in around my schedule if I had time. But back in August, I began an experiment of sorts.

What would happen if I did yoga 5-6 days a week?

So began my yoga bender. I picked a convenient studio in town (the Yoga Shala on 19th) and started down a path that would forever change me - I was about to become a yoga addict. When I signed up for my 3-month unlimited membership (now that's commitment) I didn't realize that the Yoga Shala was all about the MySore Ashtanga form of yoga. I didn't even know what Ashtanga was, but I have since learned that it is intensely physical, strangely calming, and my most favourite form.

Fast forward to now and instead of running, I find myself spending my entire weekend participating in an intensive yoga retreat with an Ashtanga guru from New York (David Garrigues). So now I'm a yoga-geek as well. And I feel a lot better for it. I am more energetic, I am bendier, I am stronger, I have more balance, I have a calm mind, I breathe more deeply, I'm actually getting rid of that beer belly I have had since undergrad, and ......I can touch my toes.

A big shout out has to go to Pat Copping, my most favourite yoga instructor who has so patiently helped me to do the poses right!

A very GRAND weekend

2011-11-02T22:32:00.004-06:00

The conversation went like this....
"Nicki, do you want to go run in the Grand Canyon?"
"When?"
"The next weekend we have free?"

And just like that, I was in. Thirty minutes later I had a ticket to Phoenix, Arizona, with the most awesome Angela P. I love spontaneity.

We arrived Saturday morning, picked up our rental car, and headed north out of town until we hit a big ditch. We drove straight to the south rim village and finally got to stare into the massive chasm that scars the earth with dramatic beauty. We were also staring at our running playground for the next day. After a sunset beer with our legs dangling over the edge, we retired to our gaudy desert resort just outside the park gates as it was going to be a very early start.

We parked the car about a mile from the South Kaibab trailhead at 4:15 am. It was pitch dark and freezing cold, but you had the sense of a bottomless abyss right in front of you. At 4.30 we dropped into the canyon and were instantly enveloped in the warmer air radiating upwards and were stripping our layers very quickly. We ran down and down and down into darkness, a seemingly never-ending descent with a lot of airiness just to the left or right of the narrow trail. We were glad to be ahead of the mule train which got started about half an hour after us. As we approached the Colorado River, almost two hours later, the first light was beginning to provide vague outlines of the giant canyon walls that surrounded us. We turned off our headlamps at Phantom Ranch, and arrived just in time for the breakfast call.

We filled up with water and left the camp within 15 minutes knowing that we had a long day ahead. I was surprised about how far away the north rim is from the Colorado River. The gradual uphill run to Cottonwood Campground and the start of the real climb up to the north rim is about 14 km and it took FOREVER! As we climbed back out of the canyon bottom the sun crested the horizon and began beating down on us. It didn't take long before pleasant temperatures turned VERY hot. I arrived on the north rim at 11 am, 6.5 hours after we had begun. I waited for Ange and then we had some lunch and didn't get going again until noon. The north rim is over 8000 ft high so it is covered in coniferous trees and the air is a lot cooler. It was a nice place to rest before we descended back into the furnace!

The return was slow. We took a lot of photos, and dawdled our way back. Trail-building in the Grand Canyon is a masterpiece of engineering, particularly on the north rim side. We didn't arrive at Phantom Ranch until 3.30 pm. The iced lemonade they served was magnificent. We were both feeling pretty tired as this point but knew there was one last big-ass 4000 ft climb to get out of there. We left by 4.00 pm on the Bright Angel Trail and began the slog upward. The sun set and the canyon lit up with colour momentarily before darkness engulfed us again. The climb seemed so long and frustrating as you could make out the lights of the bar above (where I imagined happy people drinking cold beer and eating big steaks) yet our trail just never seemed to get any closer. That was until there were no more switchbacks left and we crested back into civilization at 7.30 pm - 15 hours after we had begun.

It was not a speed record, that's for sure, but I don't think I would ever want to hurry through the belly of the earth. In the end, we were too tired for beer and steaks and the temperature had dropped below zero so we quickly began to freeze in our damp, sweaty clothes. Instead of a celebratory dinner, we took a cab back to our car (lame, I know), and picked up Wendy's burgers (again, super lame) on our way back to the hotel where I showered and collapsed into one the best sleeps on my life.

Grand Canyon, I will be back. You are worthy of a re-do.

Orienteering paradise

2011-10-22T13:55:00.004-06:00

On a whim (that tends to be how I operate), I teamed up with JP for the Eager Hill Rogaine in Cranbrook. It was the perfect weekend. The quality of orienteering is un-matched with actual runnable forest (very rare for western Canada), big vistas, snow-capped mountains, great maps, and a super friendly crew of folk out there. The Calgary contingent rented a cabin that (only just) squeezed all ten of us for a fun-filled weekend of good friends and good wine.

JP and I set a greedy route during the 30-minute planning phase. It was just one of those days when anything seemed possible and we felt invincible. But our optimism got the better of us and despite moving quickly and orienteering well, we ran out of time. The hills were bigger in real life than what they appeared on the map! We had to abandon the bottom part of the map which had a nice concentration of high-point controls and so came up very short of the winning score. It is a pleasure losing to the rockstar team of Clarence and Gabi, though. Their wisdom led them on a conservative circumnavigation of the map to collect just the high value controls. Smart. Very smart.

The next day was just as enjoyable. It was one of those days when you just didn't care about results too much. I dropped my compass but kept going regardless, sans navigation tool, Clarence found the most inefficient way to collect his mandatory controls, and Kitty decided to collect everything, even though she could skip 5 controls, just because she wanted to stay out as long as possible. Like I said, the orienteering in the East Kootneys is incredible.

Thanks to the fabulous Jim Webster for making it all happen.

Here is our route on the rogaine. We ran about 27 km with 3000 ft of elevation gain.

Sulphur Mountain - a backyard staple

2011-10-09T19:53:00.005-06:00

I'm not the only one that does jumping photos....

Sulphur Mountain was a last resort if it was too cold, too snowy, and too risky to do anything else. You see, you can ALWAYS do Sulphur. Even in winter. Well, we did Sulphur today. Is this really the end? The air no longer smelled like fall.... in fact, it had more of a pre-winter bite. Insert huge "sigh" here.

Monica, Suzy, Stan and I ran (hiked) up the back side access road. It was mostly dry and provided a good heads-down slog to get the blood flowing. I was feeling sluggish from yesterday but was glad to be out regardless. Monica kept reminding me to look back at the view with the fast disappearing fall colours scattered thinly among the grey and dark green.

We reached the summit in 1:12 and I was quickly reminded why I like Sulphur Mountain. It's one big opportunity to feel like a rockstar. And privileged. On arrival, you are greeted with a chorus of admiration. All these people who have spent their life savings to pursue their dream of visiting the Rocky Mountains and Banff, dressed in their finest for the gondola ride to the top, are shocked by a group of cheery runners who have just bounded up the mountain. But what really gets me, is the fact that this incredible tourist destination with expansive 360 degrees views of a magic corner of the world is RIGHT IN MY BACKYARD. I just get up in the morning, make some porridge, jump in the car, and 60 minutes later I am playing in paradise. We are so lucky and I do not, for one minute, take it for granted.

We ran/sprung/flew down the front, passing the usual train of tourists slogging their way up...kids, people ill-dressed in jeans and nice shoes, and the inevitable group who ask if they are nearly there less than halfway up. I love it.

I am THANKFUL for my health, opportunities, and like-minded friends

2011-10-08T21:22:00.005-06:00

I love this time of the year. The race season is over, there is no pressure to be training, and any day you get to spend running up high is a bonus gift. We are really pushing the season this year.
After three days of unrelenting rain in Calgary it was inevitable that the clearing sky would reveal a winter wonderland in the mountains. But, we were undeterred. Our goal was optimistic for the Thanksgiving weekend - forge a route from Jumpingpound summit to Moose Mountain, scramble down the south face, and then hook up with Canyon Creek. DR-EEEEA-MING. But everyone loves a dreamer. We were rewarded, not with a successful loop, but a day of delights...and plenty of time spent high on the ridges. What a fine group of people to share it with as well - JP, Isabel & John, Andree, Christina and Jen. It was a 6.5 hour day of playing in the mountains on foot, which is definitely something to be thankful for this Thanksgiving weekend. We are SO lucky.

I wonder if that's the last ridge run of the season....??

One hot September weekend

2011-09-26T09:46:00.008-06:00

I love travelling the world in search of beautiful places. The Alps are magnificent, and so are the BC coastal range. But I always love coming back to the mountains right in my backyard, especially at this time of the year when the weather is still warm and the vegetation is a symphony of fall colours. I feel like I haven't been around much this summer so I've decided to make the most of the remaining season right here at home. This weekend I didn't stray far - staying close to Kananaskis and the foothills.

On Saturday, we let our hair down on a trail running adventure of-sorts. The goal was to blaze a route from Exshaw Pass to the Ghost Wilderness. It was a committing endeavour, considering we were dropped off in Exshaw and had to collect a car at the other end, but we were pretty sure we could get through. It was 19 degrees at the trailhead at 8am. Unheard of for end of September, but certainly no complaining. It was a long day (9.5 hours) which can be roughly broken into 5 parts:
1. To Exshaw Pass - gorgeous, fresh and speedy. We lunched on the top and oo-ed and ah-ed the gorgeousness.
2. Up the ridge - this was the highlight for me. I love ridges and this one was fabulous.
3. The scree descent - As much as I love ridges, I hate precarious, side-sloping scree slopes. And this one was sharp, ledgy and decidedly un-fun. It took us nearly 2 hours to get off that ridge and it wasn't without some scrapes and bruises.
4. The "I'm glad we are alive" run through the valley - We picked up a pretty trail that led out of the valley and toward the prairies and it was nice to be running again.
5. River bed slogfest - We finally hit the South Ghost dried river bed. It was 800 m wide in parts and not a tree in sight. It made for a long, hot, and seemingly never-ending slog to the car. Those cold drinks in the cooler were golden.

Overall, a great day with Jen, Joanna, Chris, Hugh and Duke, the scrambling dog.

The next day was simpler. Less drama. Just plain delicious. Angela, Iris and I returned to one of my favourite trail runs - Mist Ridge. It's on the A+ list, among a very small list of ultra-distinguished running routes. The loop is a short 21 km but it has a lot of elevation gain and one kick-ass ridge that goes on for nine fabulous kilometers. Nothing makes me happier! We had a fantastic girlie running day, even though the 70 km/hr winds nearly blew us away. This one is a keeper!

Hotel DNF

2011-09-19T21:32:00.005-06:00

Wherever you fly, you’ll be best of the best. Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.

Except when you don’t. Because, sometimes, you won’t.

I’m sorry to say so but, sadly, it’s true that Bang-ups and Hang-ups can happen to you.

-Dr Seuss

I had great hopes for TDG 2011. I imagined myself bounding up mountain pass after mountain pass, smiling at the cameras, enjoying the alpine air, racing smoothly, and finishing in the top five. After all, I had done this before. I confess that I was a little smug at the start line as I looked around at all those TDG-virgins who were oblivious to the spectacular nightmare ahead of them, for I knew what was coming and I was ready. Unfortunately, the last 12 months had miraculously erased my memory of some things, like how hard the race was and how much it hurt. 330 km and 80,000 ft of climbing over 25 mountain passes was still just that.......brutal. This race does not differentiate those who have come before; despite the fact our bibs had “FINISHER 2010” clearly written on them. And it does not forgive those who are smug. Tor Des Geants was about to hand me a big Italian kick-in-the-pants.

Coming back to Courmayeur and Tor Des Geants was sweet. It felt familiar. Not much ever changes in this small mountain village – Antonio was still leaning out of his crepe window, all handsome and Italian-like, the guy in the electronics store seemed to be expecting me to come in for my SIM card, the individual pizzas at Pizziera Tunnel could still feed a small village, and Chiara (the 8-year old who poured my beers last year) was running around the narrow alleys and remembered my name. Equally, there were a lot of familiar faces at the race registration. There was hugging and cheek kissing galore as I reunited with Max, Thierry, Claude, Ivan and my other Euro-guys who had journeyed with me last year. In total, 75 of the 179 that finished returned for more punishment.

I love racing in Italy. It is a veritable feast of spandex, shaved legs, thoroughbred mountain men, and high tech gear – intimidating at first, but which soon becomes endearing. Everything is over the top. It is colourful, loud, and oozing a rich and proud culture. Wine flows freely and cheese is abundant. But nothing steals the spotlight more than the mountains themselves. Standing in that little town of Courmayeur, you feel swallowed by them and you cannot help but notice that everywhere is straight up.

My race this year was characterised by food, or the lack of its consumption. In a country that is ALL about the food, it is hard to imagine that one can make such a mistake. But the first day was hot and I went out a little too hard which means I did not feel like eating. Note to self: “I do not feel like eating” is not an option in a gruelling ultra-marathon. My race began to unravel early on. I was overheating, my heart-rate was too high, my breathing was fast and laboured, and my stomach was off, and within just five hours, I started to get dehydrated. On the 2^nd major climb of the race, my legs went into full cramp and I was screeching in pain. I pushed on in between debilitating quad, hamstring and calf contractions, figuring that some Gastrolyte and the arrival of evening would settle things down. I am Australian, after all. I should NOT suffer from the heat.

Unfortunately, things got worse. As it turns out, you cannot recover from heat exhaustion, dehydration, extreme muscle pain, and near starvation (I only consumed 600 calories that first day) by continuing to push on in the Italian Alps. As I said, those mountains are unforgiving. Nevertheless, I stubbornly tried. With determination I continued through the night in a torrential rainstorm and tried not to become discouraged by the number of people passing me on the same climbs that I had dominated last year. By now my stomach had completed packed it in, having gauged the worth of its utility by the fact I had yet to put anything substantial in it. After 8 years of adventure racing and endurance sports you would think I would know better!! On the 5^th mountain climb (the first 3000’er) the wheels completely came off. It was inevitable. I had nothing in the tank, I was fading in and out of sleep while stumbling along on a precarious high mountain pass, and I was in a world of suffering. I made the excruciating decision to withdrawal at the next aid station, just 78 km and 20 hours into the race. Without the time to recover properly, I was not going to make it over the next climb, the toughest and highest on the course. This year I had intended to race competitively and to indulge in these beautiful mountains, but instead I was being tortured by them.

So, my Italian racing adventure became something different altogether. The surprise twist was a week spent adjusting to those awful words: Did. Not. Finish. I used to be that girl who never quit, but now I was. I made the right decision, but the right decision does not alleviate the sting or shame.

I was eventually transferred back to Courmayeur. I sat on my race bag in the street, alone, with a big fat DNF plastered across my forehead, wondering what on earth I was going to do for the next week. All my friends were continuing on the journey I so badly wanted to be experiencing and I had no accommodations. I do not recommend this moment to anyone. I figured I had three choices:

1. Go back to Canada

2. Spend an extra $400 for a hotel and crawl under a blanket in misery

3. Get over myself, accept my reality, enjoy an unexpected Italian vacation and start processing this experience like a big girl.

I chose the latter and so I checked into Hotel DNF. It was free. It was like a homeless shelter for athletes who found themselves prematurely out of the race. For the next four days I lived in the basement of the sports centre on a gymnastics mat with my single blanket issue and a chair on which to hang my laundry. That first night there were only two of us - me and a Spanish guy who spoke no English. We kept to our corners but nodded at each other occasionally with a mutual, “gee, this sucks”. But the basement slowly filled up over the days and nights, not so much with people, but with disappointment and self-pity. It was not a happy place, but it was where I belonged for this particular race and it was where I learned that a DNF happens to all of us eventually. That is the small price I pay for the 99 other times I succeed and the incredible fortune I have to be competing so much all over the world. In the end, I beat the blues and the self-doubt and the “what will people think” with gratitude. I was thankful to be in Italy, to have so many amazing friends all over the world, for the health and ability to show up at the start line of such a massive race with optimistic expectation, and the fact that I was not permanently injured. I also was thankful that that most devastating thing that has happened to me in the last couple of years is something as minor as pulling out of a race. Perspective and gratitude..... they are miraculous tonics.

Fortunately, I recovered quickly. It is amazing what happens when you stop moving, sleep for a million hours, and start eating again. Thirty two hours after I withdrew, I was ready for real therapy, so I escaped back into the mountains. It was Day 1 of training for the 2012 Tor Des Geants, in fact. As it turns out, my week was fabulous, filled with ridiculous fun, lots of wine, magnificent mountain adventures, new friends, and some satisfying growth as an athlete and a person. I siphoned a lot of joy from watching my friends run into Courmayeur (like I did last year) with their bodies battered and their souls filled. The owner of an antique store entrusted me with a 200 year-old cowbell for 24 hours (worth 300 euros) so I could run the final few hundred meters with athletes as they finished, waking up the entire town in true Aosta tradition. So, I say with certainty, I would not exchange my week for a finisher’s jacket. Truly.

There is no doubt in my mind that I will be back next year. I intend to keep the distaste of that DNF fresh in my mouth for each time I do not want to train, or complete another hill repeat. And I hope to bring more Canadians into the TDG fold and introduce them to the Aosta that I love so much. DNF = just another excuse to return to Italy.

These wandering feet

2011-09-08T13:29:00.002-06:00

I love travelling. I still find it amazing that you can shut your eyes on a plane in Calgary and wake up on the other side of the world. I never get sick of the little airplane meals and miniture bottles of wine. I never get sick of being herded like sheep on a plane, off a plane, onto a shuttle bus, down a hall, through immigration, into a security line and back on another plane. It's like being stuck in a big melting pot of exicted people and unhappy people and stressed out people. For me it is a chance to not think, to surrender control, and to just chill. I never get sick of the puzzle layed out in front of you, decifering the instructions and signage and bus timetables in some language you don't speak.

But mostly I never get sick of finally arriving at your destination via underground metro, struggling up the steps with a heavy pack and being birthed out of the earth smack bang into the middle of a piazza at 8pm, with all its Italian-ness engulfing you in every direction. Tonight, I arrived in central Milan on a hot, 29-degree evening just as the city started waking up and I stood right there in the middle of it all and just took a big deep breath. I breathed in every bit of that fabulous, chic and historic world I had just stepped into.

It's nice to be alone in a foreign country again.

Sky Pilot

2011-09-02T23:17:00.005-06:00

John and I have been talking about climbing Sky Pilot for months now. It's a prominent, pointy mountain that is visible from Squamish, so it beckons. The only problem is that is has a long approach (we are not very good at alpine starts), it requires some glacier travel, and it is not for the faint hearted.

I have a faint heart.

We decided to give it a go anyway. We were very proud of ourselves for being on the trail by 8.30 am and got a good running start on the old forestry road. We took one wrong turn which added a delightful 45 minute ridge detour, but were soon back on track. The trail became more overgrown until eventually we were emptied at the base of an incredible slide path, it's aftermath obvious. The entire gully had been destroyed with every tree snapped in half. I don't think a bomb could have done that much damage. It's humbling to see the power of an avalanche. We picked our way over the debris, climbed the gully and gained the base of the glacier. At the same time the clouds moved it, giving the wintry land an eerie and inhospitable feeling.

From there we climbed directly up to the high col and straight over a large snow field, hoping we weren't straddling crevasses hidden beneath the late summer snow. I was a little freaked out until we landed on the summit ridge. The ridge was dry and it was nice to get onto flat ground, albeit very narrow. We made our way up to the infamous crux - a 50 m exposed rock slab. I was pretty sure I was not going to be able to free climb this, as the guide book suggested using a rope. It was certainly within my climbing skills (just) but I couldn't shake the image of falling and knew that the downclimb was going to be worse than the ascent. About halfway up, I froze on the rock, had a little high-alpine meltdown on a toe-sized ledge and then inched my way back down to safety. Ahhh......It's always good to stay alive. I was proud of willingness to try.

I was also quite nervous about going back down the steep snow field but in the end, it wasn't so bad. In fact, it was wicked fun.

Sky Pilot, I will be back. Next time I'm taking my climbing shoes.

The meltdown

I'll have some brandy with my wine

2011-09-02T20:13:00.007-06:00

I think I've spent more time in the BC coastal mountains that I have my own Rocky Mountains this summer. But that's OK, because they are mind-blowingly BEAUTIFUL and I get to explore them with my most favourite person in the whole world. For a post city chase recovery John and I decided to scramble up Brandywine Mountain, in the Whistler area.

We powered up the steep approach to the meadows. Despite the calendar indicating the END of summer, the meadows were still buried in snow. From there to the col we could have easily ski-toured up. The ridge was relatively dry which made for exceptionally enjoyable trekking with 360 degree views of perfection. This time we remembered to pack the lunch and so picnicked on the summit in complete stillness under an expansive blue sky. Sometimes I think I've died and gone to heaven...literally.

There was much silliness on the way down involving a lot of nervous laughter from me as I continue to gain confidence on big, steep snow descents. After this season, I should be an snow-faring expert. Alas, my Australian-ness (and slide-y feet) still get the better of me.

We ended the day with beers and burgers on the deck at the Howe Sound brew house in Squamish and then at our favourite camping spot at Cat Lake, under a star-filled sky. Magic.

Some video here: flickr-Brandywine

The big trek up to the meadow

Jumping for joy

Continuing the yoga bender in my personal studio!

City Chase times 17

2011-08-31T15:45:00.007-06:00

There I go again - running around the streets of a city like a lunatic. I think I'm going to stop counting how many times I do this race.

John and I had a fantastic city chase on a really hot day in Vancouver. The quality of the event was the best ever with great chasepoints, happy volunteers, and super organization. Thanks to Michelle at Urban Rec for her work over the years.

By now we have this race dialed, but mostly because of our support crew. This race is becoming more and more about them. Actually, it's all about them - we just do what we are told.

The clue sheets were located on the roof of the parking garage across the street. Have you ever seen 700 people running around and around in a parkade as fast as possible? We got our sheet and ran straight for the Canada Line which was a bit of a risk because we couldn't immediately decipher any of the clues. John thought that one of them might be at Jericho beach, so that's where we headed. We jumped off the train and just missed a bus by micro-seconds causing us to run to find another bus altogether. We did our mandatory checkpoints out in Kitsilano, including swimming out to a yacht in English Bay, which was welcomed on a +28 degree morning. We then made our way back along West Broadway & 4th, doing a lot of running, getting on and off a lot of buses, and doing some crazy challenges along the way. We picked up three more CPs before arriving at the ATV challenge in the industrial area east of Main St. We got to drive an obstacle course on ATV involving teeter-totters and log jams, which was wicked. We kept running towards East Hastings (taking the Edgardo secret short-cut) where we had to take a bus out toward the PNE. I inadvertently learned that my boyfriend can rip-it-up on a long skateboard. We did the blackberry challenge in one of the fastest times and then jumped back on a bus for the slow ride back to downtown. We were way ahead of the field as we came into our final checkpoint. We had to deliver a bunch of answers collected on a 'pub crawl' to an old cinema, except we got one of them wrong. This meant we had to run an extra 15-20 minutes in order to recover the correct answer.

In the end, we came 2nd by 3 minutes. We ran 24 km, had a lot fun, and won a ton of swag (including 2 more smartphones). It was a bitter-sweet loss because I was unable to go to nationals anyway. It would have killed me to surrender that spot, so I'm happy with 2nd.

But next year.......

Team Road Trip

2011-08-23T17:30:00.010-06:00

I have a rule that goes like this... always run longer than the time it takes to drive to and from the location of the run. Unfortunately, I broke my own rule this weekend. You see, it's a 33 hr drive to and from the black hills of South Dakota and I only ran for 24.

Liza Pye and I competed in a grueling 24-hr rogaine, covering 90 km, climbing 5000 ft of elevation, and sleeping for exactly zero hours. That was the easy part. Turning the entire 3000 km road trip around in less than 4 days was the adventure. It is a long way to South Dakota and there is not a lot of anything in between. I recommend flying. Nevertheless, it was worth the effort to explore a new corner of the world, and a beautiful one at that. Who would have known that South Dakota was so magnificent??

We arrived at the Custer State Park Airstrip at 9.30 pm on Friday. After 16.5 hours in the car, we briefly introduced ourselves to everyone, cooked up some dinner, and then collapsed into our tents. We awoke to hot sunshine heating up the nylon furnace at 7.00 am indicating that it was going to be a stinker of a day. We got our maps at 10 am and with geeky rogaining abandon, we proceeded to plan out a killer route with our pins, string and coloured markers. There were 49 controls spread in two distinct halves which lent itself to a nice figure-8 with the Hash House located on the cross-over point. Ahh....hot chili was going to be part of our race.

We started in the south under the heat of the midday sun, going in the opposite direction to ALL the other teams! 30 something degrees is always going to be hot for a Canadian, although the locals were using descriptions such as, "mild temperatures"& "pleasant running conditions". Our goal was to sweep the first half and be back at the Hash by midnight. We did. But it was not without drama. Liza fell off a log head first into a bush of burrs. She spent the rest of the race envisioning a new half-shaved hairdo. I had a bug take residence in the small space between the roof of my mouth and the back of my nasal cavity. And we both ran out of water in the middle of the afternoon causing some dehydration and overheating issues that stayed with us for the rest of the race. Our navigating was bang-on, even at night. Except for the time when we accidentally made a 180 degree turn in a creek bed and were both convinced that the polarity of the earth had suddenly switched, or we were in a Bermuda triangle sort of canyon. Seriously.

We came into the hash in good spirits. We overheard one team of competitive guys say they had been in for half an hour, but had skipped one control in the south. Another team of guys arrived from the north letting us know how hard it was up there and that they had gotten almost all the controls. We figured that we might have the lead but it was going to be close. We stayed at the hash for less than 15 minutes.

The northern half started well. We tried shake the team of boys who were hot on our tails and managed to keep their headlamps at a distance. In the end, they took a different route. But around 2.30 am, the wheels started to fall off our own race. It never ceases to amaze me how one's brain can go from being a well-oiled, intelligent, navigating machine to a pile of useless mush. Three controls in row caused us a great deal of heartache and both of us were too zoned out to make the smart decisions needed to keep our momentum on track. In the end, the big eighty-pointer that we worked so hard to find on top of a high ridge, alluded us. In hindsight....we were standing right on top of it, but threw it away. It was hard to recover from that discouraging mistake. At 7.30 am, we arrived at a nice campground, sat down and spread the map out before us, assessed our situation that was now grossly off-track, and made a new plan...run our souls out in order to get everything we could. And it worked. It wasn't pretty, especially the final 8 km run on the pavement in the soaring heat to make it back before the noon cut-off, but it was good enough for the win.....just. We ended up 70 points clear of our disappointed rivals, who clearly did not appreciate being "chicked" by a couple of Canadian blow-ins.

I LOVE the black hills of South Dakota and this race. The organization and volunteers were fabulous. The terrain was exceptionally diverse and surprisingly tough with open prairie fields, towering buttes, overgrown canyons, granite rock formations, high mountains, springs, and steep contours. The map was old with some tracks turned into superhighways and others decomissioned despite their exact same marking on the map. Some were so indistinguishable we found ourselves testing the hardness of the ground underfoot to determine if we were on an old rut hiding in the grassland. Our adventure racing background certainly helped us out there. The flora and fauna kept us on our toes. The most worrying critters were the 1300 head of buffalo roaming free, the rattlesnakes and the carpets of poison oak and ivy. But don't let that deter you from joining Liza and I for the World Rogaining Champs in the same area in 2014.

Thanks for racing and driving with me Liza. We are a good team. You are silly, excellent company, a stellar navigator, and a ridiculously strong athlete.

Note: I just noticed that all the photos were taken in the same area of the map. Only a very small portion was prairie land like this. I'll have to post more photos of mountains and canyons and big rocky terrain later......

I've got Italy on my mind

2011-08-16T11:35:00.006-06:00

In exactly one month I'll be running around the Italian Alps again: Tor Des Geants, round two.

Last year I had no idea what I had signed up for. I had never been to Italy, I did not know if I could run 330 km and climb 80,000 ft, and I didn't even know how the race was logistically organized. I had no expectations and no strategy and so I was in for a few surprises, including:
- the magnitude of the course
- the beauty of the Alps
- the flawless race organization
- the abundance of wine, beer and gourmet cheese at the aid stations
- how close I came to quitting
- and how well I placed in the end

This year is different. I can visualize every part of that course, I know the suffering that it creates, I can plan a strategy, and I have expectations for my result.

I struggled with two things last year: over-sleeping and renal stress. Of the 130 hours I was out on the course, I was asleep for 27. And over the last 90 km, my body went into some kind of physiological failure: my face swelled, my eyes swelled shut, my legs swelled so much that my quadriceps muscles were having trouble moving in the fascia, and I peed too much. SHUTDOWN.
Miraculously, I still made it to the finish line.

Here is my plan for 2011:
Drink more gastrolyte. Like ALL the time. Sleep in smaller chunks out on on the course rather than in the comfortable life bases. No showering - it takes up too much time and makes you too relaxed. I'm going to wear full compression tights as much as possible. Take more pictures. Soak my legs in the creeks.

I feel pretty fit at this stage. And I've done more overnight racing this summer so I'm better trained to go without sleep. I just need to put in a couple more big descending days and continue with my yoga bender and I should be toeing that start line with confidence. Bring it on.....

Finishing last year with my friend, Theirry.

Does it get any better than this?

2011-08-14T23:33:00.007-06:00

You know, experience shows that it does, despite that fact that every time I make the exclamation (which is often), I wonder if better is even possible.

Sometimes, life is just that damn good. Today was one of those days - friends, mountains, sunshine, ridge running, and a whole lot of silliness. We made a successful attempt to connect Harvey Pass with Healy Pass along a beautiful undulating (and slightly scrambly) ridge. We were welcomed into Sunshine Meadows by the most incredible array of alpine flowers I have ever seen. Along for the ride was Liza, Claire, Mairead, Meaghan, Angela, Karen & JP. The photos and videos tell the story better than I can tonight.

It's always a good day in the mountains with the full moon comes out. Leslie would be proud!

What's there not to love about Liza Pye?

What the heck is "Immersive Athletic Theatre?"

2011-08-13T21:03:00.003-06:00

I want to tell you about my friend Melanie Jones. She is a rockstar because she follows her dreams.....all the way to New York to become an actress and write theatre.

This month she is touring her latest work back home in Calgary. ENDURE 26.2 is a play about marathon running. And life. And it is very original. It is staged in a park and it travels. The entire show moves a few kilometers, and you'd better have your running shoes with you because it moves fast. It's nothing short of brilliant. You literally have to run to keep up with the show. The soundtrack is spectacular and so is the narration of the script, all downloaded to your iPod before the show.

Check out the trailer. And if you can get to a show, you will NOT be disappointed. It was the best way to start my day today.

http://www.runwomanshow.com/

A whole lot of silliness

2011-08-10T14:15:00.002-06:00

Video evidence......click here

Mt Bourgeau, you were worth the wait

2011-08-10T11:28:00.004-06:00

Mt Bourgeau has been on my to-do list for many years. There is nothing hard or particularly unique about this scramble/trek but for some reason I had never been up there, despite it's proximity smack bang in my backyard. The guidebook says 7-10 hours. Miles and I did it in four, including breaks. Ah...the joys of being mountain fit.

It has a gentle 8 km approach to the lake, mostly runnable, then a big-ass scree ascent to the summit. The views are incredible.....Sunshine Meadows, the Valley of the 10 Peaks, Mt Ball, Mt Stanley, Assiniboine, and even over to the Wapta. It was a good training day for Italy with a solid, sustained downhill run. This is the summer I've been waiting for.

Lunch with a view

Nicki and John's most excellent weekend

2011-08-10T10:16:00.009-06:00

How to you recover from a 5-day adventure race? Go on more adventures, of course!

John and I spent the weekend off the grid (so to speak).

First we tried to scramble Tricoumi Peak in the Squamish/Paradise Valley area. Except we were thwarted by snow and night fall. Regardless, the area was devoid of people and mysteriously beautiful.

The next day was spectacular. We made our 2nd attempt on the Black Tusk in Garibaldi Provincial Park. The last time we tried was in May 2010.... at least three months too early in the season. This time we got closer. Much closer. But the theme of 2011 continues to pervade all mountain adventures - copious amounts of snow. But we enjoyed 7 hours of running and boot skiing and glacial river fording in a wonderland, alone.

Black Tusk......we will be back.

That night we slept in a tree house. That is correct.....a real tree house. A friend of John's has been building it for the last 3 years. I could tell you where it is, but then I'd have to kill you. It's very secret and very cool.

Notice the precarious 'gang-way' entrance

On day 3 we headed north. I had never been to Pemberton before so I was excited to explore a completely new area of wilderness. We were determined to stand on top of a mountain on such a brilliant blue-sky day and we picked Mt Rohr as our destination. Almost 3000 m tall, it overlooks the spectacular Joffre Range and the Duffey Lakes area. I was blown away. It's great that I can be still be so inspired and surprised by the beauty of the Canadian mountains. We spent 6.5 hours playing in the alpine.....again, completely alone. The day was warm and we sat on the summit in our T-shirts. The descent was wicked....800 m of snow glissading. We ended the day with a swim in Lillooet Lake, camping on the beach and watching the sunset with a glass of red wine.

For our final day, we hung up the hiking shoes and returned to Squamish for some mountain biking. John took me on another of his favourite black diamond trails - Chesire Cat - which involved fording a raging river and climbing a huge embankment with rope assistance.....and our bikes! It was 4-hrs of big smiles and delight. Every day I ride in BC, I get better.

Raid the North Extreme

2011-08-03T22:09:00.013-06:00

And extreme it was...

Who would have thought you could still feel like a pioneering wilderness explorer in 2011? The trick is to put yourself at the mercy of Raid the North Extreme. They don't mess around with sissy, contrived race courses. The payoff for all that heinous bushwhacking, shivering in the night, and trashed bodies? Vistas of perfection. Indulgence in remote, untouched beauty.

On first glance, this course looked impossible. I guess that only a couple of teams would finish (only three did), and so this was going to be a race of attrition - who could stay out there the longest?

Leg 1 - We started with a 22 km bike ride. It sounded easy, except for the fact we climbed 5000 ft in the heat of the day from the lake straight up to snow line. The views across to the east Kootneys were breathtaking but the ride was a trudge. We came across the bike drop just over 3.5 hours later in 15th position. This was not an official transition so we had to carry all our hiking gear and 20+ hours of food up the mountain with us.

Leg 2 - We opted for the long way off the ridge down an old trail. It seemed more pleasant than bushwhacking down a vertical mountain side. It was pretty easy going and we enjoyed amazing views of Spokane Glacier, but we lost about 40 minutes to the rest of the field. I was a bit bummed but knew we would soon gain it back over the impending night. In the late afternoon, we entered the next valley, in which we would spend a whole night going just 8 km. It was torturous. Side alder, Devils Claw, endless tricky river crossing, valley cliffs, and thick undergrowth. Around 3 am, we became mentally taxed and had a quick 60 minute nap in the dirt. Daybreak always brings goodness and renewed motivation and once we got going again we were able to move quickly out of the valley and into the sub-alpine...finally. Having not seen any teams all night, and wondering whether we were dead last, we emerged to find four other teams in sight. Apparently everyone had a rough night. The mood was lifted with some high-alpine shenanigans.....two teams on the opposite side of the valley decided to flash us a row of their shiny white butts. I won't mention how we responded!

We pushed upward into complete snow cover. The snow was crusty which made for difficult kick-stepping and a precarious final climb to the CP on the col. It was nice to be greeted by Tanya Verret, a familiar face, and a short celebration for Claire's birthday. Her gift this year? Pain and suffering, and a wicked bum slide all the way down the other side. The alpine route-finding gave way to a nice hiking trail and then an FSR all the way to the transition. We arrived at 2 pm - 28 hours after the start - and still in 15th position.

Leg 3 - We were back on the bikes by 3.30 pm for a 40-ish km journey across two massive passes. I was a little worried about the navigation because our 1977 maps showed a maze of ATV trails. For once, time did us a favor, as all the tracks were decommissioned leaving only one obvious route to the top of Reco Pass. However, it was not built for biking as it was so steep and snowy that we had to carry our bikes for much of the last few kilometers. We hit the high point just as the rain rolled in. In the end the area would receive 55 mm of rain overnight. The 27 switchback descent would have been more fun without the downpour and the shivering but we made it down without any problems. We dropped into a very historic mining valley with a couple of ghost towns, remnants of mining structures and beautiful silence. And continued rain. The climb up the Idaho Peak access road was wet, dark, and snow covered. I was wearing every item of emergency clothing I had and was soaked through the bone. We barely stayed warm, despite the grinding ascent. We joined up with the infamous Wakefield Trail and I am glad it was dark so I couldn't see the knarly vertical drop off the side of the narrow singletrack. Our headlamps reflected off the pouring rain and fog and so we couldn't see much ahead either. We did get down in one piece, although Matt took a pretty scary endo off a switchback. The wakefield trail dumped us on an FSR that led into Silverton on the banks of Slocan Lake.

Leg 4 - We arrived at 2 am and due to the fact it was still raining, we set up the tent and grabbed a few of hours of sleep. The next 25 km of paddling was gorgeous. We got going in the early hours of the morning when the lake was glassy and misty. We sang as we paddled and the rain finally stopped. It was a nice reprieve to be on water.

Leg 5 - We knew this next leg through the Valhalla's would be the crux of the race, the centrepiece, and the most memorable. It was also our un-doing, but not before 53 hours of grueling adventure. It was only 50 km long, but we were often moving no more than 500 m an hour. I got hypothermia, and Claire picked up a water-borne bacteria that landed her in hospital with 7 bags of IV fluid. We had some major lows and some major highs. I took our team on the less conventional route along the north side of Beatrice Lake, then up Beatrice Creek Valley over a 8000 ft pass to reach Ice Creek Ski Lodge ("accessible only by helicopter"). The locals told us it was the best way to go, but I guess we'll never know for sure how the other route (where everyone else went) compared.

The highlight of the entire race was the traverse through the Devil's Range from Ice Creek Lodge to Gwillim Lakes. Magic. Surreal. Epic. We travelled easily across massive snow fields, a small glacier and over two steep passes. There was much boot skiing to be had and plenty of squealing. But after 40 hours of diarrhea, Claire's condition was deteriorating and we knew that when we reached CP9 and the edge of the park, we'd be radioing for evacuation. Fortunately, the CP staff at Gwillim Lakes were packing up and heading back to their car. We walked the final 5 km with them and then they drove us straight to the hospital in Nelson where our race officially ended at 9.30 pm on the 5th day.
Thanks to Matt and Innovative Fitness for their support of our race. And also thanks to Ay-Up lights for providing us a full kit of the best lighting system on the market. And finally, the biggest thanks goes to Colin and Margie Perks for hosting the insanity.

Click here for some video highlights

Sinister 7

2011-07-11T13:14:00.013-06:00

At the finish line of Sinister 7 I was asked by an amazed spectator what it felt like to run 148 km. I replied, "...like I just ran 148km". And today, it feels like I was hit by a train. Worth it? Absolutely.

I had a great race for many reasons. I love the Crowsnest Pass. It has a certain unexpected beauty to it. Some of the area has been badly burnt out and it is an ATV'ers playground, but there is something very unique and gorgeous about the entire valley that masks the ugly - snow-capped peaks, wildflowers galore, flowing creeks and a big expansive sky. Brian and Andrew adore the pass even more than I do and they love to show it off. They also know how to host a fabulous race that is quickly earning the reputation of being tough. Very tough.

Leg 1 - 16.5 km
The first leg requires discipline. When you combine fresh legs, cool morning air, a runnable section, and the excitement of the start it is hard to hold back. I tried to keep a controlled pace but it was probably a bit fast. We ran along the base of the Frank Slide, through the town of Hillcrest and then up a steady climb. As always, the end of leg one and the chaos of that first TA came up quickly.

Leg 2 - 16 km
This was my favourite leg. It was spectacular. We climbed up through a burnt out valley that was alive with flowers and streams and birds. The air was still cool and I powered up to the pass for a fantastic view of the whole area. I think I exclaimed, "WOW", aloud, and more than once. The final few kilometers included a single track trail that was built especially for the race, down a ridge and into a loamy forest. I bounced back to the TA (at the start/finish area) in a very good mood. There was a huge crowd cheering and I had just caught sight of Jen Segger who was only 5-10 minutes ahead of me.

Leg 3 - 35 km

This leg climbed up behind the ski hill in Blairmore and then took you on a loop around a mountain. It had the most amount of climb (1300+ m) but much of it was still runnable. The day was heating up and I started seeing some of the top solo guys pull out even at this early stage. It wasn't until the end of this leg that I started to notice the effects of 60+ kms of mountain running. The raison d'etre of ultra-marathoning was about to begin.

Leg 4 - 32 km

This leg caught me off guard. It was definitely the hardest section, and I struggled through a mini-bonk for much of it. Everyone who passed me asked if I was doing OK. My stagger must have given away my suffering. I wanted to quit, but all the women team runners who I encountered said I was their hero. But I didn't want to be a hero....I just wanted to stop, crawl into my sleeping bag and make it all go away. I was pretty much walking everything (even the downhills) and I decided that if I was not running by the end of this leg, I would quit. I ate some food and sucked it up. And then I came good. Everyone said I must have a lot of mental strength, but I don't. Instead I have two things that keep me going: the support & encouragement of others, and experience that reminds me that sometimes your body just recovers.

Looking a little too smiley at the end of leg 4.

Leg 5 - 22 km
I was feeling more optimistic when I headed out on the big climb up to Seven Sisters Pass. I like long sustained climbs and this leg certainly delivered. I reached the summit just after dark so I missed the view, but the winds were gusting around 60 km/hr and I didn't feel like hanging around anyway. It was a very difficult descent on a rocky and sometimes snowy trail and I was very glad for my poles. I rocked into the remote TA just before midnight with their Christmas lights and party atmosphere cheering up the night. I was holding 2nd place and had gained a little time on Jen, but she still had a convincing 35 minute lead that I was not able to close.

Leg 6 - 14 km
I was told this leg was "all downhill". What they meant was, "mostly downhill.....except for the uphill parts". That's OK, because I needed those short power bursts to break up the quad-burning descent. This leg went by surprisingly fast as I was running quite well and starting to indulge thoughts of the finish line.

Leg 7 - 12 km
I have no problems leaving the final transition. From there you only have the finish line in front of you. For the first time, I was able to get information about how far back 3rd place was and it seemed I had a clear gap, baring an ankle sprain or bear mauling. I ran carefully, yelled loudly and mostly enjoyed the final 12 km run back to Blairmore. With 5 km to go I got intercepted by a train. It pulled up across the intersection and stopped. STOPPED!!! I couldn't believe it. I walked up the tracks a bit and approached the conductor to asked him very nicely if I could cross right in front of the train. I think my pleading eyes gave away the fact that I'd been running for over 20 hours and I just wanted to be done. He let me pass just before he continued chugging along slowly. I would have been held up for at least 15 minutes if he hadn't let me go by.

It is always anticlimactic when you cross the finish line of a big race. You spend 148 km dreaming about it, and then it's over in just seconds - both the finish moment and all the suffering leading up to it. But then you go to bed and fall into the most glorious sleep imaginable and wake up with a huge sense of pride and accomplishment (and enormous pain). I held onto 2nd and went 1.5 hours under the course record so yeah, it was a successful day.

A huge thanks has to go to my fantastic crew - Jen Silverthorn, who was later joined by Alan Lamb. It's not an easy job being out there in a dusty field at 2 am, dealing with smelly socks and a needy athlete. Pat and Ellie and Jason and Aly also helped out at crucial moments which was much appreciated. As did many people on the course, volunteers and fellow racers who lied out their butts to tell me I looked great.

The start (above) and the finish (below). Same smile.

Getting my 2nd place prizing. Thanks Brian and Andrew. You guys are awesome. And so are your wives.

Confession

2011-07-06T21:24:00.004-06:00

I ran in the mountains today. I'm supposed to be tapering. It was the most spectacular day we have had all year.....so, what's a girl to do? It was only a little run, I promise. Just an hour, or two, or two and half. Up Moose Mountain. We did shuttle up the fire road, which is a huge consolation....I think. It was Suzanne's first mountain run so it was more of an act of service to get that girl off the pavement and onto dirt. Now I have absolutely, completely, non-negotiably NOTHING planned until I toe that start line at Sinister 7. Bring on the ice-baths, massage, green smoothies and midday naps.

You would have done the same.
Not bad for her first trail run. I wonder if she'll ever enjoy mile repeats in the city again!

The taper weekend

2011-07-03T17:26:00.008-06:00

It is exactly one week until Sinister 7. I should be tapering. But the skies cleared and the sun blazed and the alpine finally surrendered. I could not resist the opportunity to run above treeline on a perfect day for the first time this season. Monica, Stan and I celebrated Canada Day by powering up the south approach of Mt Allen into a screaming cold wind. We were unsure of the snow conditions on the ridge and we felt like the wind was trying to tell us that we should turn around. We didn't, because we were so determined to spend a day up high. There was a little dome of snow left over just before the summit but the ridge was clear and so we got our wish. I stood on the top of Mt Allen and yelled to the distant peaks of Kananaskis and the spectacular empty space around me, "I AM BACK. DID YOU MISS ME?" The season has definitely begun.

The run down the north ridge was more of a frolic. The wind subsided and we had stripped down to shorts and T-shirt by the time we hit the meadow. We finished the day with a soak in the creek, and a cold beer in the parking lot. Nice!

Ascending the grassy meadow from Ribbon Creek

It feels so good to be up high again.
The final push to the summit of Mt Allen

The key exchange. Hugh's gang met us from the other direction with our keys.

With 22 km and 1400 m of elevation gain in my legs and a big BIG race around the corner, I decided to have a cruisy day on Saturday. Again, I should have been resting but that dang sun came out to ruin my plans for laziness. For some reason I thought that Pigeon Mountain was a little jaunt off the highway. It seemed like a good objective for the day and so I gathered a few friends to join the easy outing. Except that Pigeon Mountain is actually pretty big. And we were having such a great day that we decided to add a bonus loop on Wind Ridge, almost doubling the distance and elevation of Pigeon. I logged 28 km and 1600 m of climbing and over five hours of exceptional conversation with some of my favourite people in the world.

I don't know why people chose to run on pavement in the city!

On top of Pigeon Mountain

Ellie, Rosemarie and Jason enjoying Wind Ridge - our legs were burning

As you can see, Ellie was quite tired from her Western States 100 mile win last weekend

Now I really need to rest.

Everybody is racing

2011-06-27T11:35:00.009-06:00

This weekend, everyone I know was doing some race or another: Western States 100, Full Moon in June, K-100, Ironman Coeur-d'Alene, Ride to Conquer Cancer, Scorched Soul Ultra, Rundle's Revenge. I had booked this weekend NOT to race in order to focus on training, but I felt left out. So, I signed up for Rundle's Revenge at the last minute to join the racing action.

I had my eye on the 50 km ultra on Sunday to test out my speed and trail legs before Sinister 7, which is in two weeks time. But then someone pointed out that I have been doing a lot of mountain biking lately and so should also do the 100 km bike event on the Saturday, combining the two for the Iron Donkey category. Sounded crazy. Then I noticed that no other women had signed up and so I felt compelled to 'represent'. "Finish and win" was my motto.

Except my plan was thwarted.

First, Marg Fedyna showed up even more last minute that me. She is one of the best female mountain bikers in the world and as tough as they come, so in my mind, the win was already hers before the day began.

And then the reality of 100 km of mountain biking really sunk in....on the first lap of eight. The course was harder that I expected, pushing me right to my technical limit. Even after the first lap my nerves and mental concentration were starting to fatigue. In order to complete the race in the 10 hour limit, I needed to average under 1:15 per lap. Lap times were: 1:12, 1:14, 1:21, 1:22, so I was close, but I did not want to do another 50 km and not make the cut-off. I decided to protect my legs for tomorrow, quit while I was ahead, and accept the first ever DNF by my name. It was not an easy decision.

The next day was grey and drizzly and I think they even had snow in the forecast. As soon as I woke and tried to drag my stiff and sore body out of bed, I realized that 5+ hours of tough mountain bike racing is NOT the best thing to do the day before a 50 km ultra. It was going to be an excellent training day - a big mountain run in miserable conditions on exceptionally trashed legs. Perfect!

We repeated the same four laps that I done the day before so I knew exactly what to expect. In fact, I had the trail and its flow completely memorized by now. My first run lap hurt, but was only 3 minutes slower than my fastest bike lap. Clearly, I still suck at mountain biking. I dragged my sorry butt through that course, crawling the uphills and then trying to make up time by bombing the downhills. I forced myself to eat, say nice things out loud and draw energy from the crowd each time I looped through the transition area in order to get through those 50 km. I was definitely off-pace but managed to jump on the podium anyway - 3rd place overall. I've now done three 50-km ultras this year and come third in each one. I see a pattern.......

Surprisingly, the most satisfying part of the weekend was my DNF bike result. Not the DNF, of course, but the fact that I risked failure, failed, am proud of myself for what I did accomplish, and remain determined to work toward success next year. It is a good feeling. I might not have been the fastest mountain biker out there (I'm pretty sure I was the slowest), but if my competitors had been me two weeks ago, me two months ago and me last year....I would have kicked my own butt!!

Always happy and making silly grins to mask the suffering.

The longest day of the year

2011-06-26T21:29:00.005-06:00

What's the best way to celebrate the summer solstice? Gather some friends, climb a mountain, run along a ridge, and watch the sunset at 10 pm, of course. Eight of us did the Heart Mountain traverse on Tuesday night, bathed in warm evening glow, and with big smiles on our faces. We took our time and used up every available photon of light, arriving back at the car at 10:45 pm just as the dusk turned to pitch darkness. Despite the late hour, we hung around at the trail head and had a tail-gate party, celebrating the end of longest day with chips, homemade banana bread and hummus. Does this mean we are on our way to winter, now?

And how do I feel about being in the mountains in the middle of the week?

When it starts to click

2011-06-21T16:36:00.008-06:00

I am at the front end of a big season of ultra-marathon racing and I should be spending all my time logging large quantities of alpine miles on my feet. Instead, I am falling in love all over again. With mountain biking. I just spent the entire weekend losing myself on the fabulous trails of Squamish - a total of eight and a half hours of exhilaration, mud, and huge smiles. You see, this whole mountain biking thing finally clicked. I have always tolerated mountain biking as a good way to access a sweet run, or recover from a big race, or add a bit of humility into my life, but this weekend I was as happy biking as I am running. In fact, I'm almost ready to hang up the spandex and get me some baggy shorts!

Part of the pleasure was getting to ride the 2011 Specialized Saphire Pro All-Mountain bike. I really appreciate Scottie and Willie from JH Cycles in North Vancouver for setting me up on a demo for the weekend. Thanks guys.

Squamish is a wonderland that I truly got to explore and enjoy. I am officially hooked.

Now.....time to cram for Sinister 7 in.....hmm.....2.5 weeks time.

Not riding that! I'm not that good yet.

Sweet sweet trails.

Working hard on the uphill

The very sweet bike I got to ride this weekend

If it works for the sheep.....

2011-06-16T20:21:00.004-06:00

I grew up in rural Western Australia with the farm as my playground. And so I still love the smell of a shearing shed and the feel of natural merino oil all over my skin. The first thing I ever knitted was a wool scarf, the wool siphoned directly from shearing season and spun into threads by my Aunt Jo-Jo.

I love wool. And so I'm going to make a shameless pitch for my favourite clothing brand, Icebreaker. I have Icebreaker shirts, Icebreaker bike shorts, an Icebreaker hoody, Icebreaker socks and my trade secret......Icrebreaker panties. Wool doesn't smell (which I tested on my 960 km run down the Bibbulmum with only one shirt), and I don't like to launder, so I was really happy when Icebreaker helped me out with a pro deal on their gear. Saaweeeet!!!

I also like to think that I'm supporting my family as two of my sister are in the wool industry.

Linda's pet lambs for 2011.

Addicted

2011-06-16T19:00:00.008-06:00

Hi, my name is Nicki and I am a City Chase addict. I don't know why I can't give it up. On Saturday, I competed in my 16th race, which equates to about 200 chasepoints in four countries and eight different cities. I cannot stop. Being a champion is a fickle thing in this game. I get more nervous as the years of experience stack up, which is opposite to all the other sports I know. I run fast, I think quick, I creatively problem solve, I can woo the 'crowd', I can navigate at high speed and I'm comfortable with uncertainty. But I can never guarantee success in this race. Perhaps that's why I love it so much.

So what's my strategy for a mostly successful race history which includes:
1st - four times
2nd - four times
3rd - once
4th - three times
5th - twice
7th - once.

Here are my secrets...

The race is won in your first decision.
Risk it all every time.
Don't hesitate.
But read your clue sheet carefully.
Don't wait for transit.
Run like hell.
Be nice to the volunteers and other competitors.
Hug the organizers
Make sure it is fun.
Never, ever give up.

This year I am racing with my beau, John. He is quickly becoming addicted to the strategic nature of the race....and he wants a Mitsubishi like mine! Saturday was a bit of a gong show for us. As usual, city chase surprised me, this time with an uber-cryptic cluesheet. On first glance, the only thing that I recognized was Peters Drive-in in the NE. After blindly feeding John ice cream and completing the chasepoint, we quickly headed for the NW, unknowingly abandoning the large cluster of mandatory checkpoints in the area. And the problem with being able to run relatively fast is that you go in the wrong direction very quickly! While madly trying to clear the CPs in the NW, we realized that we would have to return directly to the NE to finish off what we inadvertently started. So back we went. The rest of the race was smooth, but we were still VERY surprised with being only minutes off 1st place.

After the disappointment wore off, we decided to head back out and try for the enduro.....which involves getting as many CPs as you can in the total 6 hours. I've never tired it before but I needed a good training day.

33 km of sprinting and one repeat of the Calgary Tower later, we crossed the finish line with enough for the win. It won't send us to nationals but we did get a sweet kit from Columbia, which we will pass onto our fabulous support crew (we love you guys).

5th seems pretty remarkable out of 600 teams, but when you've been to nationals you know that the only thing that will satisfy is first place. It's like a curse. The only logical response is to try again......and again....and again

Credit: Leroy Photography
The insanity of the start......and it was pouring with rain.

Wild Things

2011-06-08T07:04:00.008-06:00

Run the Wild finally happened. It was a lesson in patience, perseverance and passion. Over two years in the making and thwarted many times by snow, date conflicts, permit issues, and the struggle to coordinate the the busy schedules of three organizers, we pulled it off on June 5th, 2011.

And it was worth the wait. We ended up on the fabulous Sulphur Springs and Elbow Bluffs maps on a gorgeous spring day. It was +23 and sunny and the mountains twinkled (because there is still so much dang snow out there).

We had 26 teams, which was a sell-out. That was very encouraging for our inaugural year. Apparently we hit a market need - adventure running. Designing this course was pure pleasure. JP and I spent a few days plowing through snow (first) and then wading through waterlogged fields, swamps and rivers (most recently) to find some great control locations. My favorite leg of the course was down a runnable forested ridge that has forever been dubbed, "Nicki's Ridge". It's the kind of ridge that brings on uncontrollable frolicking.

The day went well, although not without a few glitches. We forgot to put the electronic SI units on five of the control flags. And we put a control in the wrong place, which is pretty inexcusable in my opinion. It was a lesson learned in approaching questionable controls from multiple directions, double checking, and remembering that a hill top contour on a 1:50,000 map can be up to 200 m wide and can vary in elevation by up to 20 m. We promise, next year we will NOT make the same mistake.

It was a tough race with A LOT of elevation gain and loss. Bragg Creek is hilly!! We thought the course would be difficult to clean but superstar navigator and adventure racers, Bart Jarmula and Sean, made it back with all the controls and 25 minutes to spare. Bart - 1, Course - 0.

Thanks to everyone for coming out and getting excited about this event. The feedback suggests that we have definitely started something great, and so we will return next year for sure. We are already scheming to make it bigger and better.

Hopefully we'll see you all and more down at Sandy McNabb.

Liza jumping for joy at the top of Elbow Valley Trail

Teams had to plot their own controls. We provided the view.

Joe and Iris arrive at S1. I love how Iris is bravely introducing the running skirt to orienteering.

Joline and Marnie are all smiles in their first major navigation race.

Floods and mud and happy times

2011-05-26T22:13:00.002-06:00

Trail-rafting - what happens when an ordinary running trail could be easily confused with a white-water kayak route.

I confess to my insanity. We had the entire of K-country to ourselves, because it's been raining for days. DAYS!! Over 50 mm. I wish I could bottle it up and send it home to my rain-starved family. Most people I talk to say, "At least it isn't snowing anymore", but that's because they haven't left the comforts of Calgary. Tonight, we ran through floods, mud and yes.....even snow. At a few spots, entire sections of Powerface trail were engulfed in a torrent of water making trail running more like river fording.

But as always, it was super fun. Even on a night such as this, it is still worth the effort to get outdoors.

Not quite weird enough to fit in

2011-05-24T12:29:00.005-06:00

Nelson is a strange place. It is where all the eccentric folk on the fringe of Canadian society hang out and are accepted. Without dreadlocks, hemp clothing, and a guitar slung over my shoulder, I felt quite out of place. But it is a pretty cool place to hang out, regardless. Especially if you like being outdoors.

The beautiful West Kootney area is the playground for the Raid the North Extreme 6-day adventure race in the end of July and so my team, Innovative Fitness, decided to stage a training camp out of Nelson, which is smack in the middle of what I surmise to be the race course. It is going to be one hell of a race because the terrain offers only two options: straight up, or straight down.

It was a fabulous weekend of training, planning, scheming, and socializing. My face still hurts from four days in row of side-splitting laughter (my team rocks). However, it didn't start out to be very promising. The first conversation with the bike store guys went like this:

Me: We'd like to do some mountain biking. Any suggestions as to where?
Bike guy: What kind of bikes do you have?
Me: Cross-country, and mine is a hard-tail
Bike guy (with look of concern): You have what? Oh, you can't ride those here. We only have downhill trails and they haven't been swept yet. Do you like stunts?
Me: How about trekking? We'd like to climb a mountain.
Bike guy: You got snow-shoes?

Fortunately, we did find some non-death-defying trails, although not many. And we did find a small peak to climb, in the middle of the night, to practice navigating in the dark. It was, indeed, buried in snow but that didn't seem to worry us. We also managed a great paddling excursion up the west arm of the Kootney Lake. Claire and I were able to teach the guys enough technique so they could keep up with us by the end.....just.

I can't wait to return for what is going to be an epic, tough and spectacular race. Now it is time to focus on the hard work to get there.

OK, maybe a little weird

Night navigation training - 1 am

Enjoying a gorgeous day of paddling on the lake

Testing gear on Pulpit Rock

When Nicki and Fear hang out for the weekend

2011-05-17T09:32:00.017-06:00

I'm not one of those thrill-seeking adrenalin junkies, despite the fact that many people associate "extreme endurance" with "fearless". They are not even close to being the same. On a spectrum of adventurous, I fare somewhere toward the crazy end, and I'm pretty bad-ass on a fire road, but that does not translate to being able to throw myself and my bike off a cliff.....yet!

So, it was time to learn. I signed up for the TREK Dirt Series all-girl mountain bike camp on the north shore of Vancouver. I hoped that my $350 would buy me a whole lot of instant courage and confidence. The north shore offers some of the most technical terrain you will find and I figured that if I could learn to ride there, then I could ride anywhere.

The mornings were spent going around in tight circles in a gravel park and practicing correct technique for going off some man-made stunts, teeter-totters, skinnies and logs. It seemed too easy. It was. When we added the context of 'real terrain', things went downhill......literally! That afternoon we played on Mt Fromme, a mean mountain that is only hospitable to people with body armor, full face helmets, baggy shorts, 10 inches of travel up front, and guts made of steel. Nope, nope, nope. nope and nope. I made my way down one of the easier trails with my group, twice, but I defaulted to my pre-programmed response to get off the bike and walk whenever it got steep or bumpy. I was as afraid as ever, and almost in tears by the end. Fear - 1, Nicki - 0.

On Sunday, we were met with rain.....as if the logs & roots in the forest aren't slippery enough. I wanted to focus more on cross-country skills, like going uphill. I also wanted to defeat my demon - downhill. I was a very determined student in my morning skills sessions and really tried to gain control of my bike with something other than the brakes. It payed off, because in the afternoon I broke through. Unexpectedly, it wasn't an adrenalin-filled, fear-conquering, "I-am-awesome" moment. Instead, I was rewarded with a quiet sense of accomplishment, for the sum of many small gains eventually leads to great improvement. I'm no extreme mountain biker yet, but I did learn how to drop my bike off a small rock ledge and ride confidently up a muddy, rooted single-track. It turns out, like skiing, I've been doing it all wrong. "Stop biking like a triathlete", is still ringing in my ears (although it might have been the spandex that gave me away).

Postscript: The litmus test was conducted on Nose Hill. There is a steep earth bank that I have wanted to drop off for 14 years. Yes....since the first time I ever explored Nose Hill. Last night I did it without a hint of nerves. I am one step closer to being able to say, "Watch me get some sick air!"

Running Wild

2011-05-12T08:27:00.000-06:00

I wonder where I am?

I am somewhere on the Run the Wild race course and if you know Bragg Creek, you might recognize this spot. Although, perhaps you forgot what it looks like without the snow we've been buried under since.....forever!

But look at that dry ground. Last night, JP and I ran wildly through the terrain, up big hills, through swamps, across ice flows and surprisingly, on some dry, spongy trails. I run on the Bragg Creek trail system all the time, but rarely do we get off trail. It was pure, childish delight to just run anywhere. We jumped in mud puddles, and bounced along pretty ridges and discovered new vistas. Our goal was to find some very cool control locations, and we did.

So, if you want to join me at this very pretty spot, sign up for Run the Wild 6-hr adventure run on June 5th: www.runthewild.com

Watching the sunset on a gorgeous +22 degree evening from some random hill top, with mud splashed up our legs and the season of spring finally laid out before us was fabulous. FAB-U-LOUS

Girls Gone Wild Banff Tour

2011-05-08T10:51:00.007-06:00

If you were in Banff yesterday, you might have heard us coming....a train of loud, chatty girls, clad in our spandex tights, arm-warmers, and Hoka clown shoes, blazing our way around the local trails. We scared wildlife and tourists alike. The only person happier than us was Alan, our lone male chaperone. I mean, what could be better than hanging out with seven exceptionally hot, fabulous chicks.

It was the annual tour-de-Banff, led by the lovely Leslie, of course. Spring has sprung (sort-of) and it was time to check out the condition of the favourite Leslie-loops.
Loop 1 - Spray Valley (13 km). We had to katoolah-up for the out'n'back up the Spray Valley. It crusty for the out, but the warming air was softening the snow pack which made it a little tougher getting back. We punched through a few times and the stablizing muscles were given a good work out on the soft, uneven ground.
Loop 2 - Marsh Loop-di-loop (7 km). It was a loop-di-loop because Leslie wanted to show us the tropical fish that live in the hot springs, which involved a bit of a side excursion and some back-tracking. Some of the trail was nice and dusty, but some was mucky, sloppy, and horse-trodden. The Hoka's performed well, giving me some necessary float over the horse poop.
Loop 3 - Tunnel Mountain (10 km). It was then over to the centrepiece of town and a bit of climbing to break up the flat kilometers we had done so far. We got to enjoy the astonished look of many huffing, hunched over tourists as we passed them running up the mountain. If only they knew we had already been running for nearly 3 hours. It's always a nice view from the top but we cooled quickly and so bombed back down in what seemed like just minutes. We then re-filled our water and emptied our bladders at the Banff Centre before tackling the final loop.
Loop 4 - Hoodoos (15 km). My favourite loop of the day was the blissfully spongy trail that takes you below and behind Tunnel mountain over to the Hoodoos. Leslie was very surprised to see it clear of snow and blossoming with Crocuses. When we got to the end, she insisted we keep running to see exactly how far this snow-free single track continued. Unfortunately, the trail continued longer than our legs would, so we turned and did an ultra-shuffle all the way back to Leslie's.....the promise of a soak in the hot tub spurring us forward.

I love that I have so many friends who get jazzed about spending most of their day running in the mountains. I guess craziness likes company!

Feeling small

2011-05-02T15:19:00.010-06:00

If you want to feel small, go ski-touring in big terrain. Yesterday we played on the Wapta Icefield, and it's BIG. Big hanging glaciers, big snow, big mountains, big blue sky and big expansive views. The only thing that wasn't big was me.....a tiny speck silhouetted against a massive landscape. The last time I was on the Wapta was in March 2008 for my first ever ski touring expedition. It is not exactly a place for beginners and despite testing my nerves and skills, it blew my mind. I really wanted to go back now that I've improved my skiing and confidence in the back-country and so I joined Monica, Suzy and John for the last tour of the season.

With the mid-spring temperatures the avalanche report recommended we get off the slopes by noon. It was going to be a +15 degree day with a blazing sun to soften the deep snow, and so we took heed. That meant a 4.30 am departure from Calgary. The sun was just above the horizon as we started out across Bow Lake, hinting at the still, blue-bird, glistening day ahead. Sunscreen necessary.

It took two hours to reach Bow Hut, with all three of us trying desperately to keep up with Monica, the speedster. The snow was icy in the canyon and crusty on the approach, but we knew it was going to be soft and sweet by the time we were heading out. We realized that we didn't have time for a push to Mt Rhonda and I had monstrous blisters so I didn't feeling like roping up for the slow plod across the icefield. Instead, John and I chilled out in the hut and took a nap in the sunshine with a million dollar view straight out the window (the hut is perched on a high cliff). Monica and Suzy went to check out the conditions on the headwall and found it to be perfect. They rushed down to coerce us up to join them in making pretty turns in the light powder. I was very proud to show off my mad skills (thanks Keith) and for once, I felt like I was a legitimate back country skier instead of a fraud!

We then blew back down the mountain, through the canyon and back onto the lake. It is amazing how much faster you come down than go up.

It's always good to end alive.
As Monica said, it's time for me to buy my own gear.

It does not get much better than this

2011-04-25T18:36:00.000-06:00

How can I complain about the snow? After the weekend I just had? I am normally a winter-intolerant Australian, especially when winter stretches her reach deep into end of April (and probably May), but this year the glorious white stuff just keeps on giv'n love. I went to the mountains early on Good Friday for a day of playing, but my one day magically turned into three, each different and fantastic.

Good Friday - Ski Day
I've been skiing black diamond runs, big moguls and deep powder for about five years now so I figured it was time I finally had a lesson. You see, I'm a bit of an embarrassment to my studly skier friends because I can't actually ski. Yeah, I get down the hill, but it is slow and never pretty. More like a train wreck, actually. My dear friend, Keith (a very patient man and outstanding ski instructor), volunteered to put me out of my misery by spending the day with me and the bunny hill at Sunshine. We started from scratch.....no poles.....trying to keep up with a group of five year olds having their lesson on the same gentle slopes. They were faster :-(

But, I am a quick learner and after three hours Keith decided I was ready for the back-country. We spent the afternoon testing out my new mad skills on the powdery face of Twin Cairns, yo-yo'ing up and down until I was able to make pretty turns like him. OK, not exactly like him (he's been skiing for 35 years). I still need A LOT more practice and unfortunately I will have to wait until next winter......or maybe not.

Easter Saturday - In search of dust
I just got back from Vegas with my summery tan and warmed up soul, but my friends, Leslie and Iris, were clawing for sunshine and dry trails. We exchanged our katoolahs and puffy jackets for sunscreen and running skirts and headed into the East Kootneys. Just a 1hr45 drive takes you from a winter wonderland into spring time. The fine folks at Crazy Sole in Invermere set us up with some sweet trails above the Toby Creek Canyon and we managed to put in a solid 4 hours of running on dry, dusty single track.

The most exciting part of the day was discovering Nuu-Muu: the first ever running dress. Of course, I bought one and tried it out on the +18 degree day and it was saaweeeet! Be warned, my Nuu-Muu is going to grace the trails this summer. Accompanied by the purple Hoka shoes, I will look like a right lunatic out there.....just the way I like it.

Easter Sunday - A touch of heaven on a holy day
I was going to drive home and spend the day indoors writing an assignment. Ha! Instead, I frolicked in a fantasy land. "IS THIS REAL?", was yelled from mouth more than once. I've been to Skoki Lodge many times but today was the best ever. It was a day full of unusual contrasts: deep snow & T-shirts, snow-angels and sunscreen, skiers and sunny picnics. Basically the scenery said winter but the calendar and temperature said spring. We yodelled, spoke jibberish, did gymnastics on the frozen lake, jumped in the air, made silly videos and squealed.......for we were not able to express our true appreciation in real, adult words. I felt connected to the universe today - to my friends, my beautiful planet, Steve, my gifts and passions, and to God. Probably appropriate for Easter. Iris kept saying that we won the lottery, but actually, we were just given a gift. I was granted passage through a moment in time that was perfect.

The last Hurrah - April 20

2011-04-21T21:44:00.000-06:00

Over three years ago, my dear friend, Jen, took me to soak in the hot springs of Goldstrike Canyon. This time is was my turn to be the guide and take Claire. We had to be at the airport back in Vegas by noon so we packed up the cabin in Boulder City and left at the crack of dawn. It was our last hurrah in the land of loveliness before returning to our "beloved", still-frozen homeland. The springs that Jen and I had visited in 2007, about halfway down the canyon, were long dried up. So we kept clambering down among the massive boulders, often assisted by frayed ropes that people had pseudo-anchored. In fact, we made it all the way to the Colorado River, with Goldstrike Canyon emptying out right under the new bridge that bypasses the Hoover Dam. It was definitely a better vantage point than the one with the tourist buses and interpretive center, if for no other reason that we got to sit in a naturally jetted hot spring while we admired the brilliant engineering.

It was a fabulous way to end the trip. Icing on the cake.

Nevada & Arizona......I will be back soon.

Breakfast commute - April 19

2011-04-21T16:31:00.001-06:00

Robert offered to buy us breakfast at a diner in Dolan Springs. It is a 56 mile round trip by road......or 40 miles if you cut straight across the desert behind his place on mountain bike. Naturally, we made the commute by bike. Robert sure knows his backyard - every cattle trail, dirt track, hillside, mountain top, valley, salt flat and random breakfast diner in the middle of nowhere. He lent us bikes and I got to ride a 29'er for the first time ever. What a sweet ride!

From the top of the pass you could see for miles over a barren land: Nevada to the right, the Grand Canyon to the left, Lake Mead behind us and a whole bunch of nothing in front. Except the little town with a diner. I had an all-American breakfast: pancakes and syrup, orange juice and hash-browns, all for $3.25 (plus tip). When in Rome......

The day heated up and it was a bit of struggle for me getting back. It was a good reminder to start bike training.....if only the snow would melt from our mountain trails. And our city trails. And my backyard, for that matter!!

For the last evening in the desert, we treated ourselves to a spectacle. We considered going to the strip and watching a Vegas show, but instead, chose the sunset over Lake Mead with a bottle of wine and a gourmet dinner, outside under the evening sky. It was warm, spectacular and perfect.

An Army Ranger, Two French Tourists and a Floating Bed - April 18

2011-04-21T12:02:00.000-06:00

We were to meet Robert at 3 am at the put-in on the Colorado River. THREE in the MORNING ?? I asked Claire the check the email twice to confirm the time. Robert is a friend of ours from the US adventure racing scene and he lives in a portable home in the middle of the Arizona Desert, surrounded by cacti, Joshua trees and expansive views of nothing. He owns a kayaking operation, used to be an army ranger and is 58 years of pure adventure man.....so the 3 am start was very real. It was good AR training: up at 2 am, standing on the dock at 3 am by the light of our headlamps, and paddling by 3.30 am. You can be assured of having the river to yourself at that time of the day.....or night.....or morning.

This was actually a work day for Robert and we gladly accepted the job to be his river slaves, helping to tow kayaks upstream for his clients to paddle back. We paddled for two hours in the complete darkness, massive canyon walls towering on either side, with the full moon shadows hinting at a magnificent scene that we would have to wait to see when the day broke. It was silent, except for the sound of a paddle stroke echoing off the rock. Just over two hours later, we pulled into the opening to White Rock Canyon, beached the boats, and trekked up in the dawn light to the Arizona Hot Springs.

Coffee break. We grabbed a spot in one of the pools that was halfway along the spectrum of temperature (around 41 degrees). I reclined into the clear, hot water and promptly fell asleep. Apparently I remained floating and asleep for 90 minutes! Have you ever woken up in a slot canyon, immersed in mineral water? I recommend it. It was then back to work. We packed up the thermos and headed up the canyon for over an hour, scrambling up a bunch of interesting boulder problems and pulling off a couple of short 5.9 moves (sans rope), eventually crawling out onto the top of the mesa and over to the highway where we met his French-speaking clients.

From there, the day became more benign. Robert took us back into the canyon via the more conventional route so as not to freak out the tourists and then we just gently cruised back down the river, stopping to have a snack, a swim, and lots of photos. We pulled off the river around 4pm....over 12 hours after we set out in the dark. A very satisfying day.

Running Red Rocks - April 17

2011-04-21T09:19:00.000-06:00

It was going to be hot today and we wanted to run long so we left early. Destination: Red Rock Canyon. The beautiful Calico Hills turn into a furnace shortly after the sun hits the sky so we started there. We did a warm-up loop and then Claire decided to take this little adventure off-trail. Picking a random opening in the rock, we started bouldering up, up and up. We hoped to hook up with a tourist trail on the backside of the rock system but were not sure we could get through so we always kept retreat as a possibility, checking that we could descend if we became cliffed out and memorizing our route in the labyrinth. Our experiment worked and we found our way out. It was then a 3 km cruise back to the car on a well-warn trail, our first two hours well spent!

We then headed over to the White Hills Loop, a 10 km hiking trail with a decent climb over a pass in the middle. It was getting hot by now and there was very little shelter but it was nice (for me) to stretch out the legs on a continuous run.

We finished the day with a trek up Icebox Canyon. Temperatures were soaring by now and the word “ice” in the name won us over immediately. There was no ice....but there were a lot of ill-prepared, overweight tourists swarming the trail. We found our own adventure by jumping off a ledge into a cold pool in all our clothes, much to the amazement of our audience. It was a great way to end a day that generously gave us 5 hours on our feet.

VIVE Las Vegas - 16 April

2011-04-21T08:40:00.000-06:00

Live spontaneously. That is one of my mottos. I was due for a spring get-away... somewhere warm, somewhere sunny, somewhere cheap, and somewhere I could train. That somewhere turned out to be Las Vegas and it turned out to be now. It cost just $318 and a few hours of my time to be transported out of the unrelenting winter and into the hot desert. We left in a blizzard and arrived on a +31 degree, blue-sky afternoon. Sweet paradise.

Deliriously giddy is what I felt as we pulled onto Las Vegas Boulevard in a rental car with the windows down, warm air on my skin, that big big sky, and the freedom of the desert with its loveliness spread out before us. Oh, the adventures that await.....

As quickly as we arrived we left the glitter and silliness of the city behind and headed east to the hills. A big shout must go out to Paul and Karen for loaning us their cabin on Lake Mead and saving us from a tacky Vegas hotel.

Walking in a winter wonderland

2011-04-14T08:43:00.000-06:00

They were playing Christmas songs on the radio this morning, but the point was already moot. We woke up to the aftermath of a blizzard that raged all night.......more snow, and a LOT of it. Despite running late last night in the mountains, I decided to commute to work on my own two feet. It is definitely the most reliable form of transport. Guaranteed, in fact. And in today's case, I was the fastest thing out there. I proudly passed numerous transit buses that were stuck, endless lines of unmoving traffic, and cars spinning all over the place. Not that running was easy either. It would have been good training if my next race was in thick & chunky, shin-deep soup.

Join with me and laugh about it. What else is there to do, except escape to Vegas........

Diez Vista: another 50 km ultra in the early season bank

2011-04-11T19:54:00.000-06:00

This year I made a strategic decision to do two back-to-back 50 km ultra-marathons in the early season. And I'm so glad I did. I am now starting my year with confidence, momentum and a lot more strength and fitness than I have in previous years.

This past weekend I merrily danced around the beautiful Bunzten Lake course in Port Moody, Vancouver. The race had over 6000 ft of climb, most of which was achieved in the first 8 km, using the Diez Vista trail as a warm-up. I must be getting wise in my old age, because I went out easy. Either that, or it just takes a long time to get the engines firing these days. The descent off Diez Vista is extremely technical but I knew what was coming, having done this trail two years earlier with some orienteering friends. I was definitely middle of the pack of 130 runners by the time we popped out on the lake.

Not perturbed and not tired, I decided to crank it up a little on the next rolling section. I fell instantly into a rhythm, and with a big smile on my face and a bounce in my step I started mowing down the field. I have never taken so much satisfaction from a race before. I loved the control I had over my pace, the stability I felt in my core (thanks yoga), and the soft, dry (snow-free), flowing trails. For some reason, I seemed to gain strength over the second half of the course and on the out-and-back I noticed I was in 3rd female position which spurred me on even more.

There is no greater feeling than finishing a 50k trail marathon with energy to spare. However, the best was yet to come: a huge shout out to Martha and her homemade apple crisp with icecream served at the finish line. You have set the bar very high!

Next up......LAS VEGAS!

A blank canvas

2011-04-04T17:53:00.000-06:00

Perfection: a blue-bird day in the back-country after mother nature has spread an untouched layer of white snow across the entire landscape.

You almost don't want to disturb the perfection of the white canvas with your ski and pole prints. But yet, the fresh powder beckons some nice turns, or at least some amateur turns, in my case. I wish I could ski well. For now, I am happy to be out there, powering up a big pass, giddy with anticipation of the view I'll get on the other side, breathing the freshest of mountain air.

Yesterday, I joined Anna, Stu, Leslie and Keith for a ski-tootle into Skoki Lodge. It had puked snow the day before (the very same storm that nearly trapped me in Calgary), making the conditions quite unbelievable for April. Strangely enough, I just don't seem to care about the weather. The apocalyptic blizzard we had on Saturday was what gave us the gift of Sunday.

As always, the friendly welcome from Katie, her four-legged buddies, Lucy and Bill, and a big plate of fresh pumpkin loaf served in the comfort of the rustic Skoki Lodge were a delight. Icing on the cake, and fuel for the ski home.

Next up......Nicki learns how to downhill ski properly and becomes a real alpine tourer like her friends.

Powdering-up my day

2011-04-01T19:53:00.000-06:00

When it snows, go skiing.
Despite my determined effort to not get involved in the sport of alpine touring (I did not need ANOTHER adventure addiction) I have found myself lost in the magical back country with light-weight skis on my feet, an avalanche beacon strapped to my chest and a massive smile across my face more than once this winter. Not that it is technically winter anymore, but apparently we never got the memo.

I have that blissful, shattered feeling after a fabulous day of ski touring with Monica and Suzy. It was a little grey but we did spot the sun and blue sky briefly as we summited Healy Pass for the second time. We made a few pretty turns in deep powder that had freshly fallen during our 2-hr approach.

I think I'm going to cave and buy AT gear. I just can't help myself.

Spring is flirting but winter still has its grip

2011-03-31T22:29:00.000-06:00

I'm on day two of my six-day training binge. What else was I supposed to do with my short vacation? Yesterday, we ran 16 km on a snowy, slushy Telephone Loop. It's unfathomable how much snow we still have on local Bragg Creek trails this late in the year. It's April, afterall. APRIL!!

Then today I returned to Prairie Mountain. It started out +7 and sunny but on the summit we were greeted by a massive storm that blew through and almost took us with it. Apparently, that little hammering with sharp, icy pellets was just a teaser for what is coming tomorrow. We are currently in a snowfall alert with a massive dump heading our way. Like I said, April.

It's going to be a long time yet before we are running on snow-free trails.

Tomorrow.....I surrender to the conditions rather then the calendar and am going ski touring.

And people wonder why I do this

2011-03-26T15:12:00.000-06:00

This is what happens when you give the birdie to the winter-that-never-ends. I am not making this stuff up. This is the real thing......pure fun.

This morning, I feasted, yet again, on Priaire Mountain, and garnished it with a lovely repeat of the Moose Mountain Fire Road. The fire road is normally a bullet-proof option for snow-free running in the early season....but not this year! It was blanketed in fog and buried in snow. I even needed the katoolahs. The sustained climb was blissful. At the top of the mountain my friend, Chris Curry, suddenly appeared out of the mist. Sixty-six years of age and putting in a solid 6-hr day of tough running with a big smile on his face.

Another good day to be me.

Life on the Moose fire road.

Pure inspiration.

Narnia

2011-03-23T22:49:00.001-06:00

Tonight, I walked through the wardrobe.
I had a rough day of work and could not get the irritation and stress I was feeling to leave the upper recesses of my forehead. Winter has returned to Calgary (did it ever leave?) and it took 10 minutes to scrape the heavy snow off my car in the biting wind just so I could escape to the mountains.

At the base of Prairie Mountain, I tore out of the van and straight up into a wonderland. Today's run was delicious in every way. The mountain was blanketed in heavy snow, blinding fog, and utter stillness. I stopped a couple of times to listen to the silence and soak up the moment I was in, far from work, far from the city, and far from reality. I was in Narnia, I was sure. I ran alone, even though we were about eight spread out over the mountain. Visibility was barely meters and you couldn't see anything or anyone except right in front of you. I powered up and quite literally floated down with childish, slip-slidding delight, in a record 1 hr 15 min. It was most certainly, the best hour of my week.

I don't seem to mind that we are in an endless winter, especially when I get to have experiences like this on a regular evening after work. Funnily enough, the horrendous weather we are having has not stopped me from any adventures or training outings thus far. That's the whole point.....you just got to get off the couch and out the door. Magical places await!

2011-03-20T16:06:00.000-06:00

There is nothing better than banking a long run so early in the season. Yesterday, we were out for nearly 5 hours of running on the snowy Bragg Creek trails. It started out cold with the promise of a threatening blizzard, but the meanacing grey skies cleared a little and the warmer air softened the nice snow crust making the run turn into a slog and eventually a stagger. If you lost balance on the narrow packed trail and stepped just slightly to the left or right, you instantly post-holed through to your thigh which resulted in a certain face-plant. I had snow up my nose by the end!

My mum lost a good friend this week when she was hit by a car on her bike, and so the gratitude for being alive and out in the mountains, fit, and breathing crisp air with good friends was overflowing. It was a tough run so soon after my ultra-marathon but I had a huge smile on my face. The sun came out for our well-deserved tailgate picnic and so we hung around for a while at the West Bragg trail-head. I'm still undecided whether the highlight was the run or Katherine's raw & organic chocolate pecan fudge bars.

Demonstrating the depth of the snow!

I love this dog. Duke, the ultra-marathon dog.

Enjoying the Trail Trash tailgate.

Season Opener

2011-03-14T22:12:00.001-06:00

Normally I would not advise doing a 50 km trail ultra 'off the couch', but I rarely do anything sensible. I signed up for the Dirty Duo, on the Vancouver north shore, as way to kick my butt into gear. It's the middle of March, for goodness sake, and despite the fact we are still buried in winter, I'm going to pretend that my race season has begun. I was looking forward to enjoying some typical Vancouver spring weather as well, but alas, they seem to be getting a bonus round of winter just like us. It rained ALL weekend.

The Dirty Duo is a looped course that takes you part way up Seymour Mountain and back down.....twice. It is steep, technical, and damp. In this case, it was also icy and snowy at the top. During the first third of my race I suffered. I wondered what the heck I was doing. I seemed to be left behind by the pack, and was feeling the few extra pounds I am carrying at the moment. Plus my ribs were hurting. So mentally, I let go of my ego and focused on my mantra: "Just a training run, just a training run". Then something amazing happened. My body remembered how to be an ultra runner again. I settled into a good pace, looked after my nutrition and seemed to pick up speed. My second time up the big climb I just hammered and passed a bunch of people. I'm still slow on the downhills because I am so out-of-practice technically, but I definitely got stronger as the race went on. 50km seemed to go by quickly in the end and I was still feeling good at the finish line. I managed to pull off a negative split and a 3rd place podium finish. And to top it off, I got my entry fee back in prizing and freebies. This is a great race, and I will definitely be back another year. It is well organized, with a local feel, on great trails. I guess it is official, the season has begun.

Frosty the morning commuter

2011-03-07T09:43:00.000-07:00

Surely today is the last time it will be -26 degrees. After all, they promised +5 for Wednesday....PLUS five! I am looking forward to seeing what life is like on the other side of the zero. I hope this morning will be the last time my eye lashes frost over and my snot freezes. I always figured I looked pretty ridiculous running to work in these kinds of temperatures but today I got confirmation when I met a colleague waiting to cross at the lights. She insisted on taking a photo with her iPhone....and here is the evidence! The things we do to stay sane!

Undeterred

2011-03-03T06:33:00.000-07:00

Wednesday night is trail running night. Most people leave work, run errands, make dinner and retire in front of TV. I have to admit that curling up under a blanket on my couch on a -26 degree night (the 3rd in a row) with a glass of red wine sounded very appealing to me last night. Quite frankly, my motivation is low, chipped away by the seeming never-ending winter and my increasingly busy life schedule. Fortunately, I have some crazy people in my world who approach life like I do on better days.......with gusto and a bit of insanity. I scurried into the shelter of my house at 6pm last night and gave Patrick the bad news that I was not about to drive him to the mountains just so we could run on a snowy trail, in the dark and incomprehensible cold. Surely, he saw the logic of staying in town. He didn't.

I had a fabulous pros and cons list formulating in my head. There were a hundred reasons to stay home and NONE on the "drive to the mountains" side. And then I did something irrational. I threw my list in the metaphoric garbage bin and ran upstairs to find every piece of running clothing I owned and a headlamp, and we piled in the car without another thought. I am crazy!

We were rewarded for our insanity: a divine run. You can be pretty certain of your solitude in K-country on a -20 something degree week night. There had been fresh snow that day and the woods were crawling with animal tracks, so on a narrow trail lit with a dim headlamp, we felt like we were on a National Geographic special. The stars were out, the snow crunched, and all three of us lost ourselves somewhere out on the Tom Snow Trail. It was awesome.

As I've said before.......worth it every time.

Frozen in March

2011-03-01T07:56:00.000-07:00

This morning I got to watch the sunrise from the bus. It was beautiful. But I found it hard to imagine that the big ball of nuclear explosion was too far away from Calgary to provide ANY kind of warmth. Other than aesthetics, useless. It is March 1st and -34 degrees. It is hard to be an athlete under these kind of conditions. Short workouts in the gym on my lunch hour, biking in my basement, core strength in my living room in between bouts of PhD study..... in just doesn't cut it. This is definitely the toughest winter on history. Regardless, I have an extreme need to be outside, to have fresh air in my lungs, and to train hard so I will continue to suck it up and keep laying the foundation for the fantastic summer that will eventually come. You just have to wear enough clothes, right?

Solo in the mountains

2011-02-26T19:15:00.000-07:00

I nearly stayed in Calgary today. I had grandiose training plans when I awoke, but that grey, damp sky sucked the ambition right out of me. I procrastinated away my morning and invented many creative, yet lame, excuses about why it was not worth the effort to drive to the mountains.

But then I remembered a truth: in all my history of being active, I have NEVER regretted the choice to go train outside. Ever. It is like one of life's rare guarantees. So I threw my gear in the car and headed west, the direction that always promises awesomeness. With the Dirty Duo 50km ultra looming in just 2 weeks time, I figured it was time to put some steep climbing in my legs and there is no better place to do that (especially in February) than Prairie Mountain. As I left Calgary the grey sky turned blue and the warming sunshine came out to join my afternoon.

Prairie Mtn had a lot of snow! I was glad for my katoolah traction aids, but a few times I was wishing for the snowshoes I had left in my car. It was a gorgeous afternoon and I found myself alone on the mountain. I could not have been happier. I powered up the mountain effortlessly, which is testament to some lingering strength from Italy. It's going to be a good season if I feel this good this early in the year.

My rule is to be on the trail at least as long as it took to drive there and today I just fulfilled that. 1:35 up and down, including photo breaks....not bad considering the depth of the snow.

Prairie Mountain......we are going to become good friends this year.

A little piece of heaven

2011-02-25T22:38:00.001-07:00

I have the greatest friends in the world. And my backyard is nothing short of magical. So combine those two treasures together and you have the makings of a perfect day. Keith, Leslie, Monica and I, undeterred by the -33 degree temperatures, ski toured up Twin Cairns today. And it was awesome: a blue sky, delicious view, ultra-smiley kind of day. The cold was irrelevent, except if you stopped for too long.

It was this good.
Life is way tooooo short to not be doing this kind of stuff.

And I thought winter was over

2011-02-24T21:07:00.000-07:00

Based on my attackpoint log from this time last year, I was ready to start dusting off my running shorts and applying sunscreen:

But alas, this is what I find:

Seriously? It's the end of February already. We are supposed to be the city of chinooks, a city that promises hope in sweet packages of warm, unseasonsal, sunny days. Not this year. I guess the bike will stay attached to the windtrainer in my basement for a little while longer.

Regardless, I'm going to bundle up with every item of clothing I own and go ski touring tomorrow.

My secret to vitality - mountains and green smoothies!

2011-02-23T08:36:00.000-07:00

......and I try to include both into every week. I drink a green smoothie at least four times a week. Here is my recipe:

BLEND..
fresh pineapple
fresh ginger
banana
pear or apple
mixed berries (whatever I have)
organic spinach or kale
hemp hearts
1 tbsp of Udo-oil blend
protein powder (hemp or whey)
plain yoghurt
coconut water
squeeze lemon juice

It's not always fun but it's better than staying home

2011-02-21T15:51:00.000-07:00

Today was one of those days. I was supposed to run the Frozen Ass 50k ultra but I didn't feel like it. The alternative was to join Monica and Suzy in the mountains for some crazy adventure, which I would have loved, but I didn't want to get out of bed that early. So, I just stayed in town. In any case, I decided it was time to start running again. Like seriously running. I have a big year of ultra marathons coming up but I do not feel like much of an athlete at the moment.

It was supposed to get warm but that blue sky disappeared quickly and a cold, bitter wind whipped up from the northwest....the kind that blows the cheer straight out of your soul. My goal was a 4-ish hour tour-de-Calgary: Nose Hill, Bowmont, Bowness, Edworthy and back. As it turns out, it's hard to pull out a solid 4-hr run from the offseason and with busted ribs. I did manage to be out there for four hours, with a couple of walk breaks and short pause at the Cadence Cafe in Bowness to warm-up. Fortunately, I'm not easily discouraged by a bad run, especially this early in the season. I'll just put that in the bank for the summer which will be, most certainly, filled with running pleasures.

Snowshoe-O

2011-02-20T22:59:00.000-07:00

There is nothing like a day in the mountains to put a smile on my face. Add to that a smidge of competition, good friends, and some hard cardio effort and I am literally in heaven. I teamed up with Jen Silverthorn for the inargural snowshoe-O race, a 4-hr score format out on the Elbow Bluffs map in Bragg Creek. My car thermometer read -21 when we arrived but the twinkling peaks, blue sky and direct sunshine promised a perfect day. And it was. I stripped my jacket and hat within the first 30 minutes.

I proclaimed aloud, "This is pure delight".....more than once. How the rest of the world are not out enjoying life this way, I will never know, but for now I'll selfishly take the peaceful emptiness that the backcountry woods consistently delivers.

We had a perfect race with bang-on navigation at every control and a reasonable route choice. It was certainly good enough to land us in 1st place overall. It's always nice to sneak ahead of all the boys. I learned how efficient good navigation can be. My life constantly surprises me with days like today. Pure Goodness....that's what it is.

Hoka

2011-02-19T22:40:00.000-07:00

Today I picked up my new Hokas. They are the antithesis of minimalist running: the bounciest, bulkiest, and most certainly ugliest running shoe on the market. But the Italians invented them and they know a thing or two about running in big mountains. Thanks to Anna at the Ultimate Fit Centre in Canmore for hooking me up. Both last year's Tor Des Geants winners flew around that 340 km course wearing Hoka clown shoes and I'm intending to copy their style in the 2011 edition.

Unfortunately, it is still the middle of winter here in Calgary and so I was not able to test them out. Instead, I tested my fractured rib at the nordic centre. After being on complete rest for the last week I was going stark-raving mad and I was desperate to lose myself in the mountains. I don't do injured, indoors or inactive very well. Turns out the rib cage did not miraculously heal in just 7 days and so I limped around my usual blue loop with only one working arm. Still, I was one happy girl. With pain ripping through my entire upper left side of the body, I had a big smile on my face for the snow was perfect, the sky was clear and blue, the scattering sunlight was warm, and the mountains twinkled. Worth it every time.