The North Face 100 Race Report

Ok, so I haven’t blogged in months. I will address the reasons in my next post (likely to be posted sometime in 2017)…but for now, some words about the past weekend, where I raced the most enjoyable race of my life- The North Face 100, 2014.

I wrote back in November that I’d entered a dirty long race in the Blue Mountains. 100km, 4500m of vertical climb, technical trails, steps, ladders and all sorts of hecticness involved. Considering that was six months back, you’d think I’d spend at least some time training for what would be my first ultra marathon, but that wasn’t really the case. Sure, I did a couple of long trail runs on the 3 month roadtrip, but they were more of the I-need-to-actually-run-twice-a-week-to-counteract-my-evergrowing-beer-belly kind of runs, and not really specific training runs for the event. The longest I did was a 30km run at Wilsons Prom, second longest was 21kms in the Flinders Ranges, and after that, maybe a mere 13kms was third longest! Needless to say, I was as underdone as a steak cooked during a blackout. I would need to have “smart” preparation to get away with a half decent race with no training. I bought just about every packet of pasta from Supabarn in order to carbo load in the lead up; I drove out to the mountains and scouted out some of the course so it was familiar in a week’s time (especially the night sections); I got Brad over to talk strategies for support crew as he’d kindly agreed to help Michelle with those duties; and I bought so many unnecessary items (blister pads, lipchap, strapping tape) I nearly went broke funding the thing!

When the Friday finally rolled around, I was “ready” and we headed to the mountains, and enjoyed the Friday night expo, with heaps of free goodies, a nice buffet dinner, and listened to some of the elite runners talk business up on stage, before heading back to the Katoomba Townhouses for around 6  hours sleep before the big day.Getting to the starting line at around 6am on Saturday, the atmosphere was electric. Not just because there were enough bright flashing lights to give a blind man an epileptic fit but because of the 1000 or so nervous runners, all getting ready for their race in their own way. Some were laughing, some were chatting, some were farting (well the old guy next to me did anyway). Me, I was in my own quiet little world doing silent but deadlies, keeping warm in a tracksuit and trying to conserve as much energy as I could, and would smile for a few photos taken by my support crew of Michelle, Brad, and Kirsty. Before I could say “damn I wished I trained for this thing”, the sun starting peeking over the horizon, it was 6.48, and my group, group 5 (out of 6) had been counted down and we were off! I was actually doing this!

Just to backtrack a litte…My original goal of sub 17 hours had been well forgotten about several weeks earlier, somewhere around the time both my running buddies (Joel and Ben-I’m looking at you) withdrew from the race, and the time I spent living in a van on a diet largely based on two minute noodles and beer for three months around Australia. I figured, I would be happy to settle for a less ambitious goal. I kept telling everyone I would just “be happy to finish”, which was half true, but secretly I was hoping to be worthy of the sub 20 mark and in doing so, earn myself a sweet TNF Bronze Belt Buckle.

So with this in mind, I set out with “preservation” being the mantra…I wasn’t going to work up a sweat, or bomb down hills, or do anything stupid for the first half of the race-I wanted to  finish- and setting out like Usain Bolt was a good way to be flat on your back (or pointing with two hands in the air, one bent, one outstretched, like Usain does) in no time. Either way, I wasn’t ready to find out, jogging for the most part, but slowing down to a powerwalk when I felt I was “overdoing it”.

Start to CP1 was a mere 10.5km, but had the 1000+ steps down into the valley, a technical trail along Federal Pass, and then a big climb up the Golden Stairs to get back onto Narrowneck Ridge. The fresh mountain morning and the atmosphere of the event made the first 10km fly by. Feeling good at the checkpoint, I quickly filled my water and shoved some fruit down my gob and was off again. I was constantly checking the Garmin to check my pace at each kilometre…7:45…9:04…8:39. They were all “slow” in normal running terms, but the fact that a 20 hour race goal converts to 12:00 minute kilometres (well a little quicker-to allow for checkpoint stops), I was actually going too fast! But by the time 20kms had come and gone, my mantra slowly shifted to “if it feels ok, just go with it-let’s bank some time up our sleeve with some faster kilometres so I can have some slower ones when the hills get bigger and my body is more fatigued in the second half of the race”. Yep, that’s one long and drawn out mantra…in fact I only had to repeat it eight times and the race was half over!

Narrowneck was an enjoyable part of the race, especially with so many other runners around. The downside to the large number of runners close by meant that by the time I got to Tarros Ladders the queue was deemed too long, and we were directed down the 400m longer Duncan’s Pass instead. Now it was a 100.4km race! Shaking that off, I continued along the singletrail and onto the fire trail that would lead me to Checkpoint 2.

Checkpoint 2-the 31km mark-was reached after 5 hours, and I again reloaded the bag with Clif Bars, lollies and water, and kept on trekking. The trail switched from mostly firetrails to singletrack again, and I wasn’t exactly sure of what to expect, as I hadn’t researched this part of the course. I certainly didn’t expect Ironpot Hill to be as sinister as it was, as the name kind of reminded me of the tea pot character out of Beauty and the Beast. It was a little beauty and lot of beast, and slowed a lot of runners down to a complete stop, having to catch their breath every few metres of serious elevation. The view at the top was something I wish I had more time to soak in…sheer cliff faces dropping down into lush green farmland, with nothing but blue sky above, and the sound of Aboriginals playing the didgeroo and clapping sticks up ahead (seriously-the event put them there, I didn’t get lost and find an uncontacted Aboriginal tribe or anything). After a short out and back section along the ridge, we descended once again, and once down in the farmland area I had just been admiring, I ran past horses, cows and more horses. In fact, I saw one runner up ahead who was stopped and patting one of the horses…I was unsure if she had planned this in her pacing, but she was still there by the time I passed her 30 seconds later! Whatever floats your boat I say, but I thought I’d save patting horses for after the race.

I hit the marathon mark of 42km, and instead of feeling absolutely drained like I’d expected, I was beginning to think I might actually finish this race. I thought I’d increase the tempo for a few kms to get me to the 46km Checkpoint 3, where I’d see the support crew and be able to have a quick breather. I could hear the cheering, and music and sweet vibes a good five minutes before I could see them-Checkpoint 3 was going off! People were everywhere, but the only ones I cared to see were Michelle, Brad and Kirsty who were ready to attend to my requests in super quick time like the champions they are. I sat down, shoved heaps of food in my face (most of it went in my mouth), and told them what I’d eaten as we had to keep track of calories so I wouldn’t fade away. I stocked up on some more food, and toilet paper (already two poos in 46kms-about average for me!) and left them after 11 minutes of rejuvenating. They were really positive and I think quite surprised at how good I looked, but I knew this was the easy part, and that the kms would only get increasingly harder as the day wears on. I was mentally preparing myself for the real battle to be fought from the 50km onwards.

With only 11kms to checkpoint 4, I kept the pace up a little, knowing that one of the toughest climbs was coming up at the 55km mark, called Nellies Glen, which would slow me right down. It was at this stage the ol’ stomach didn’t feel the greatest. Whether it was because today was the first time I was experimenting with salt tablets, or the fact that I’d eaten more lollies than a eight year old at a birthday party, or what the specific case was I wasn’t sure…but it wasn’t enough to slow me to a complete stop. Nellie’s Glen was extremely steep, and I just kept focused on “walking with purpose”, as I knew it was easy to let a 5.5km/h walking pace slip to a 3.5km/h walking pace without really noticing, which doesn’t seem like much-but over a race as long as this, is enough to add hours to the finishing time. The trail was tough, but certainly beautiful, and about halfway up, somewhere between the muddy steps and the trickling waterfalls pooling beside lush green ferns I found myself stopping quickly to take selfies of myself with the scenery…something I certainly haven’t done during any shorter distance races, but I now thought the girl who had stopped to pat the horses wasn’t so crazy after all!

Hiking up the steep trail, alongside the cliff faces, my Garmin lost satellite reception and-like me-was a little bit spaced out, and by the time it regathered itself, I was a little disheartened to learn that when my watch told me I had covered 57km, I was only up to the 55km mark. First world problems, I know, but another mental kick in the groin to deal with for the rest of the race.

Reaching the top of Nellies, I let out a loud “WOOOO!” knowing I’d just tackled one of the toughest climbs of the course, and my battlecry scared the wits out of one competitor who was taking a leak in the bushes nearby…sorry mate!

Back on the streets of Katoomba, the course was relatively flat (well flat compared to the trails but still hillier than most streets I’d run on!) and I could hear some spectators cheering people on by the Aquatic Centre, which was CP4, at the 57km mark. I entered the basketball courts to the crowd cheering and quickly found my crew. Once again, they were outstanding, tending to my every need, and telling me I look fantastic every thirty seconds. I’m sure I didn’t look fantastic but this was one of their duties-to keep my spirits up…Lucky they are good liars! I changed into some warmer gear, and after a quick 2 minute noodles (like I hadn’t had enough of those this year) had left the check point after about 14 minutes-a little longer than I had planned.

It was 5pm by the time I hit the road again, and with the sun dipping below the horizon, I got the trusty headlamp out and mentally prepared for another 21kms until the next CP. My night training had consisted of two runs, totalling a measly 10kms in the dark, and although I was underprepared and a little out of the comfort zone, the fact I had to concentrate on where I put each and every step actually took my mind off the enormity of the task at hand, with 43kms total still to be run.

It was a shame the sun had gone down just minutes earlier, as the section I was running would have looked unreal in the daylight! As I skirted along the cliff edge, I looked across to Scenic World, and saw a small trail of headlamps snaking their way up the tough Furber Steps. The lights would have been from some of the front runners of the race, considering we were now about 11 hours into the race. How nice it would be to be finishing now! But I still had eight or so hours left of running at this rate. I could just make out the outline of the Three Sisters and I made my way down the Giant Staircase…which is a staircase, which is giant-sized…it speaks for itself really! There were a few tourists lingering which slowed me down a bit, but it was a pretty slow section anyway, taking what felt like 10 minutes or so to reach the bottom. I was really relying on the handrails and using the muscles in my upper body to help lower me down the tight, winding steps, trying to conserve energy in my legs. Once at the bottom I thought this leg would be pretty straight forward and not too up and down, but boy was I wrong! I guess I should have studied the elevation profile for more than 30 seconds! Around the Leura Cascades area there were metal staircases that went on and on, and just when I thought I would be back out the valley, we’d go back down again, then up, then down, then up. It was hard to get a good pace going but I continued to jog any flat sections to keep my pace half respectable. It’s all a bit of a blur really, and the first thing I distinctly remember was getting to the Water Point at 66km and the volunteer yelling “We have water, we have lollies, we have high-fives!”…I didn’t need any water, but the lollies, and especially the high five was a boost!

I got some “real food” (a banana) into me along the road section just before Leura Golf Course and took the opportunity to chat to some of the other runners while we were side by side. I’d always start off with a Carl Barron-esque “how ya goin?”. To which they would reply with not much enthusiasm, or tell me about their injury concerns, or how much they were hurting. It seemed I was feeling a little better and more confident than the handful of people I’d small-talked with. I guess the people who were feeling better were ahead of me actually running, rather than making friends at snail pace like I was. I boosted along the fire trail and onto Tableland Road, recording a few quicker kilometres, knowing I could have a little rest at CP5, which was just up the road at the 78km mark. My opinion was that the leg between CP4 and CP5 was the hardest, with the constant change in surfaces, and ups and downs. I had a lot of close calls-nearly rolling an ankle three or four times as I wasn’t used to night running on trails and at that point my body was just shufflin' along, and not too agile. By this stage, I knew it wasn’t going to be fatigue that would be my undoing in the race, it would be a silly mistake such as tripping on a rock, or slipping off the track and injuring myself that would stop me. Each time I had a stumble I would berate myself, telling myself to slow down and concentrate, which was easier said than done in the mental state I was in.

With a nice hot soup (which tasted like heaven in a bowl) waiting for me at CP5, my awesome crew were on the ball and I was in and out of there without much fuss within 10 minutes. I’d told my crew all day that CP5 was when I’d need them the most, and that I could be pretty banged up by this stage, knowing that 70km was the most I’d ever run in a single day before (and that was 2+ years ago). Although I was about as fatigued as you’d expected from a bloke that’s just run 70kms, I had no real injuries, and felt relatively good and confident I’d get through the final 22kms-it was just a matter of how long it would take.

My goal of a sub-20 hour finish time had been pushed to the forefront of my mind since about the 50km mark, and I’d been slowly but steadily building up some “spare time” in the knowledge that the final 10kms had a vertical rise of nearly 1000m, and that I’d be knackered by then. Leaving CP5 I had 5 hours to run 22kms, and I knew IF nothing went wrong (that’s a big IF!) I would do it in roughly 4 hours. If something went wrong, an extra hour would be meaningless-I was well aware a cramp or stomach problems, or countless other problems would require me to have an extended stop on the last leg. With this in mind, as soon as trail started to descend down the Kedumba Walls, I let gravity assist me and I just let loose. Sure, I wasn’t as fresh as a daisy (however fresh that is), but I knew after roughly 10kms of steep downhill, I wouldn’t need my quads again, as it was all uphill. (It sounded like a good theory anyway!). I passed quite a few people on the way down, and no one passed me. With every “quick” kilometre that passed, I knew that would allow me a “slow” kilometre on the way back out the valley.
The emergency aid station at 91km was a good chance to stock up on some more lollies for the long slow climb (my teeth felt pretty much completely rotted from copious amounts of sugar consumed by this stage now anyway-what difference would an extra few snakes make?) .

I was glad I’d bombed down the hill, because I was slooooow on the way back up. Quite a few of the people I’d passed on the way down were now overtaking me again, which I had expected. The 91-95km were pretty hazy, and I could feel that I “wasn’t all there”…although my body kept moving forward, my mind had shut off. I was unsure if I needed more sugar, more salt, or more water. What I needed was a nice warm bed, but at the bottom of the Jamison Valley that wasn’t really an option! My Garmin had died by this stage and without knowing how far I’d gone or my pace, my mind didn’t really know what to concentrate on. Around the 95km mark there was a nice girl and guy who had caught up to me, but weren’t keen on overtaking me, and said they were happy with the pace I was setting. We talked as we powerwalked along the now relatively flat Federal Pass, with my headlamp leading my feet over rocks and branches. It was what I needed to stimulate my brain and keep me from slowing down, and we cheered together each time we saw the 96km, 97km and 98km marker. Although I was enjoying the company, knowing I was only 2km from the finish with a chance to now crack 19 hours, I decided I’d start up the jogging again. I starting dumping water as I reached the bottom of the Furber Steps, and starting the steep ascent up the buggers. They seemed to go on forever, and I would just keep counting each step to keep my mind off it. I got to over a thousand, so I either miscounted them (highly likely), or the race organisers lied to us by saying there were only 900. But either way, a few short steps later I could hear cheering and I popped up onto the familiar looking entrance of Scenic World. Up ahead I saw the North Face 100 banner, and underneath was the finish line. My crew started cheering and I crossed the line in 18:55, raising my arms in the air and let out another big “WOOOO!”, knowing that was the last kilometre I’d have to run.

After a few hugs and congratulations, the first thing I did was head to the table giving out the Bronze Belt Buckles. Putting the table up a flight of stairs was a bit cruel if you ask me, but I was happy to hobble up them, eager to see my prize.

The guys kept asking me how I was feeling, and I just couldn’t find the words. The mixture of extreme fatigue with the elation of beating my goal was balancing me out into a subdued idiot that just kept answering “I don’t know!” (or something equally as uninspiring) to every question they could throw at me. We drove back to the apartments and discussed the race a bit more, before heading to bed for a well-deserved sleep.

Looking back, I was proud of myself for managing my body to get through the 100kms without breaking down. I knew the lack of training meant I was vulnerable to screwing it all up in a number of different ways, and I’m surprised I didn’t! But with some good carb loading (one of my favourite things to do), conservative pacing, good research and a well thought out nutrition plan I think I got away with it! A small part of me knew I left a few hours out there on the course, and I know I will be a little more ambitious next time around, but knew I’d done about as well as I could without blowing up and DNFing.

All in all, it was an awesome race which I am already keen to get back to. The race director Tom and his team did an epic job to make the event run like clockwork. There were volunteers EVERYWHERE, who were extremely helpful, and although I hadn’t run any of the course previously, I wasn’t even close to getting lost (physically anyway-I was mentally lost from 91km onwards!). The event expo on the Friday night, and the presentation on the Sunday morning were both great, and after having the event marked down in the calendar for so long, I was reluctant to drive home and put an official end to the weekend. But knowing that there’s another TNF100 in 53 weeks’ time, I’m already looking forward to the next one!

Below are a ton of pictures...some from Aurora Images, some from the ol' IPhone and some from MAC Photography www.macphotography.biz , otherwise known as the lovely Michelle!

 

Nervous and excited at the starting line. 0km

 

The biggest road section of the day. 4km

Still smiling...only 96km to go! 4km 

Federal Pass. 6km

 

Artsy stuff

 

Narrowneck. 13km-ish

 

Horsing around after CP2. 33km

 

View towards Ironpot (this is way steeper than it looks!). 35(?)km

 

AWESOME support crew-Michelle, Brad and Kirsty-THANKYOU!

 

Support crew making life easy for me at CP3! 46km

 

 

 

 

Creeper shot from behind the bushes. Just finished Nellie's Glen. 55km

 

No red carpet here...coming into CP4. 57km 

Heading down the Giant Stairway. 60km.

 

 

Wishing I wasn't being a knob in every second photo

 

Trying to be a Lowes model, showing off this season's Hi-Vis Vest

 

Cheesiness ruining another sweet pic

Coming into CP5. 78km

 

I ate the bowl of soup in about 4.3 seconds...soooooo good!

Spaced out with 4kms to go. 96km

 

Crossing the finish line. 18:55.13. 100km

 

Buckled!

 

Friggin awesome weekend!

  

 

Shanghai shufflin'

On the 3^rd January we arrived at the biggest city in China…Shanghai. With nearly 24 million people, it has the same population as all of Australia. It was a bit of a step up from our Canadian home town of Clinton, Ontario, (with a whopping population of 3000) to say the least.

China is great. But holy heck is it different. Prior to landing, the first image I conjure up when I see the word China, is of Chinese food and Jackie Chan movies. Now, I have some more images…my first impression is that everyone in China spits. In the streets, in the train stations, inside buildings. Why is this necessary? And not just a little innocent bit of saliva but hacking a full on loogie. It’s like in Aussie Rules if you don’t bounce the ball every 15 metres you get pulled up, but substitute it for spitting! But luckily we stayed for four nights and gave us enough time to form a nicer opinion of China as a whole.

We took in the tried and tested touristy sights, such as Yuyuan Garden, Town Temple of the Gods, the scenic Bund overlooking the futuristic skyline of Pudong, an acrobatics show, and even went out to a pretty neat little ancient water town called Qibao, which is known as the Venice of Shanghai (although the only comparison is that they are both kind of smelly).

We even took in a bit of shopping, with Michelle on a mad hunt to find a tea pot from specifically from China. I pointed out that probably every tea pot she's ever drank from would have been made in China (isn't everything?), but I was missing the point apparently.

Here’s what I learned while in China:

-Coughing and sneezing all over everyone and spitting in public is perfectly normal…get involved.

-Street signs, and pedestrian lights mean absolutely nothing. And not because they are in a different script. I mean, nobody pays attention to them. The “green man” that means “walk” in Australia means “sure you can walk, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t vehicles that are going to fly past you with no regard” in China. If your vehicle is small enough to drive it on the sidewalk…why should it be limited only to pedestrians anyway?

-Little kids farting in public and giggling about it is funny no matter what country you’re in

-On weekends, crowds of enthusiastic parents flock to the central park (People’s Square) and set up a virtual “market” which have signs and pictures of their child in the hopes of setting up an arranged marriage (presumably with the child of another eager parent who is at the park). The information will contain their age, occupation, interests, even what kind car they drive. I’m sure glad that isn’t how it goes in Australia-I would have had slim pickings when it was my age to get an arranged marriage, driving around in a beaten up 92’ Lancer.

-China has banned Facebook. Seriously. And Youtube, and Twitter, and BlogSpot (hence why I couldn't blog about this when I was actually in China) and many other popular websites-they are literally inaccessible. Apparently they think it is detrimental to their society. I think they have bigger things to worry about (pollution, the North Koreans, losing their number 1 table tennis world ranking), but to be honest it was quite refreshing! Either way, I find it odd you can still access porn but not Facebook in China (ahhhh so I've been told that is-I never tested that theory, promise!)

I managed to get out and about for two runs while in Shanghai, and enjoyed them both. Although it is beautiful in its own way, it could quite possibly be the worst city to run in. Because…

-The air pollution is terrible

-There are people literally EVERYWHERE, and despite best dodging efforts you are destined for a collision sooner or later

-The buildings are so tall the Garmin absolutely shits itself and shows your location as somewhere completely different (so does Google Maps and everything else for that matter)

-You cannot drink the tap water so if I didn’t have a bottle of water on hand for before or after the run (which I generally didn’t) I’d just have to cop it sweet until I went back out again.

-As mentioned before, it is just as easy to get yourself run over when obeying the law than making up your own road rules.

 

The first run was a short 6.7km zip around the city, passing through People’s Square (I thought I might as well see what kind of market value I could get in the arranged marriage stakes). After getting lost in a series of underground pedestrian walkways and losing satellite reception, I headed east along Nanjing Rd. Nanjing Rd is “pedestrian only” road (and I use that term very loosely) with it’s bright lights, shops, restaurants and street vendors-it’s like Shanghai’s version of Las Vegas’ strip, complete with seedy guys handing out flyers trying to sell a “massssaaaagggeeee???”

At the end of Nanjing Rd is the Huangpu river which, judging by the name is where Chinese go to hang a poo and the esplanade is known as the Bund, with great views of Shanghai’s skyline. It is here where you get your typical “I’m in Shanghai” kind of photo, or presumably dump all your rubbish in the river by the looks of things.

Negotiating the back roads returning to our hotel, I noticed the shops turned from selling touristy trinkets and western food, to selling mechanical parts in nearly every single shop. But since I was already doing a bolt and had two nuts, I kept on running, even passed the nice smelling food carts of the back roads and got back on the “tourist trail” of Nanjing Rd, where my run ended, and I had to find some bottled water.

My second run in Shanghai, two days later was fairly similar, although with a bit of drizzle around, everyone had their umbrellas out (and the vendors who were selling junky toy helicopters and rollerblades suddenly had tons of umbrellas to sell, being the entrepreneurs they are). This made the already crowded footpaths even more crowded, and even when people lifted their umbrella to dodge the running white man, I was still generally had to duck, as they couldn’t lift them high enough.

Getting a couple of sneaky runs in in a country where a lot of the food is deep fried (although somehow everyone is still as skinny as an Olsen twin) feels good, as you feel like you’ve “earned” the rubbish food you’re likely to eat…this couldn’t be more true in China. The food options were pretty glorious, even if I had to point to the menu, or mime a chicken in order to get the right food.

I learnt a lot in China, and even if the image of spitting in the streets stays with me, so will the thoughts of being warmly welcomed, having some great food and getting involved in a totally different and unique culture. Although I was looking forward to chomping into a dirty meat pie in Australia, which was just a ten hour flight away.

Digging into God-knows-what at a Chinese restaurant

Oh that's what it was-I got 1 of a lot of things?

magnificent skyline to match a magnificent beard

Awesome ancient style buildings

Getting owned by this sneaky fella

Getting artsy at Yuyuan Gardens

These guys were either looking for some coins they dropped, or praying...perhaps to find the coins they dropped.

People doing synchronised dancing on the street complete with fans (the ones in their hands I mean-there weren't many onlooking fans)

Saw the funniest sign!!!! Hahahaha. Actually, nah I don't get it either.

My starting and finishing point of each run...next to Miranda Kerr.

Sweet temple in Qibao

Pudong skyline at night....puuurrdddyyy

 

Staying sober enough for a sneaky run in Whistler

As mentioned in the last post, between drinking, snowboarding and drinking during the final four nights of the year, which was spent in Whistler, I somehow managed to get a sneaky run in. I had really hoped to, but knew it was a long shot. Like, teeing-off-with-a-nine-iron-on-a-par-5 kind of long shot. I guess the choice of club doesn’t actually affect the length of the hole, but it’s kind of ridiculous. Just like running in Whistler in winter.

We were welcomed to Whistler by old mates Cameron and Alan on the 27^th, and quickly found our way to the bar known as Longhorns for a good old fashioned getting shitfaced dinner and drinks. Meeting up with the boys’ friends, both local and visiting, it turned into quite the night, with vague memories of dancing on pool tables in nothing but our undies. Ok so it was just me that did that... (It’s way more manly than it sounds, I promise). Predictably, the next day was very unproductive but in the days that followed we explored the Whistler sights on foot, and caught up with more friends from home (it’s seriously harder to find a Canadian than an Australian in Whistler…and that has nothing to do with the fact that Canadians love wearing camouflage, the sneaky devils). We did spend an awesome day on what Whistler is famous for…the glorious glorious mountain. Snowboarding for the first time since high school was epic, and although I took it easy on the 1080’s and corkflips and all those things I can’t actually do, it came back easily to me and enjoyed carving up North America’s biggest ski resort. Although maybe I wasn’t as good as I thought-the muscles that hurt the most the following day weren’t any of the classic ones, but my forearms, and I was told this was because I took so many falls. I say it was from doing too many push ups from saying the forbidden m-i-n-e word (a game played religiously by the boys and which took a bit of getting used to. If they had of banned an obscure word like “calibrate” or “toejam” or “flatulent” ? I would have been golden, because I know I didn’t use that word, but thems the breaks).

Running aside (I will eventually get to that), the a few highlights of our four day Whistler stop over in no particular order would have to include:

-Unforgettable first night in town at Longhorns. (well it was kind of forgettable but that’s not because it was terrible)

-Our day up on the mountain, with epic views, epic snowboarding and epic company. Special mention goes to Jen teaching Michelle how to ski, and them both getting tangled, tripping over and becoming a two-woman human bobsled and sliding speedily and ungracefully away from the rest of us, who couldn’t contain ourselves.
-Casual drinks at Brandy’s to watch the mighty San Diego Chargers clinch an unlikely playoff spot.
-New Years Eve house party with the boys and about 15 others from all over the world.
-Hanging out with old mates, like Al, Cam, Jen, Gerard and Rhys and meeting a bunch of new friends, all who are bloody champions.
-Randomly bumping into the one and only Justin Jones (of Cas and Jonesy fame-who kayaked unsupported from Australia to NZ, and also did a return unsupported trek to the South Pole, both which were world firsts) and talking adventure stuff.
-Going for a walk/hike with Michelle and Jen to Alta Lake (perhaps “Alta” means “Lost in a different language?) despite the foggy views. Fondue and oysters afterwards was awesome too.

I planned to go for a little exploration run on the morning with the mildest hangover (I am not just a pretty face) and took a look at the map to see where the hot spots were. Whistler is pretty hilly even at the base of both Whistler mountain and Blackcomb Mountain, and I was looking forward to a change up, as rural Ontario is about as flat as Keira Knightley a pancake.

As I’d had a nice little run by Lost Lagoon in Vancouver a few days earlier, I headed for the similarly named Lost Lake, not far away. I guess the early explorers of Canada just sucked at explored, or were a fan of the hit TV show as there a quite a few things named with the prefix. The problem with naming everything Lost Lake, Lost River, Lost Pond etc, is you’d get lost trying to differentiate them. Instead of Lost Lake, why not name it Barry? I’ve never heard of a lake named Barry and that’d be easy to find…silly Canadians.So off to Barry I went, and found the fresh mountain air to my liking, as was the concrete footpath tucked just out of sight of the road. Everything was going great until I got to the trailhead and everything turned to ice. Running on ice is hard enough as it is, but when there’s even the slightest incline, it becomes unbearable. The inclines near Barry were pretty decent and I found myself “spinning my wheels” with every step, and was reduced to a walk for the majority of it, and especially during the ups and down hills.

With the run becoming more of an ice skate and not being able to see the sights with all the concentrating on not slipping, as soon as I got to a fog covered Barry I cut away from the ice covered trail network and towards the less icy footpaths by the road.

Being able to pick up a bit more pace, I saw more, and found myself at the base of Blackcomb Mountain, dodging skiers and snowboarders dressed in their brightly coloured ski gear and looped around back towards Whistler Mountain.

I had been told there was a nice run around the golf course in the valley, and headed in that direction. It was actually pretty nice, running through enormous pine trees and watching chipmunks dart all around the place, crossing a few frozen rivers as I went. Although I’m unaware of the name of the golf course (it very well could be “the Lost Golf Course”) it was here I got lost. It would generally be easy to get my bearings on a clear day, with a whopping giant mountain as a reference, but, having a bit of a thing for maps (and cheeky rest breaks) I pulled the map out to find the best way back to Al’s place, as I was happy enough with my 12km little exploration. A new spot to run, and although the most challenging part was staying sober enough to actually go for a run the slippery ice, it was awesome to explore this sweet place on foot.

Taking the Saucony’s off for the last time of the year was bit sad, knowing it was my final run in Canada for at least a year, but knew the beers would taste even better after actually exercising in this little party town. And I knew that in a few days, we would be in our next stop-China, where it will be even easier to get lost, regardless of what they call their lakes.

Firstly a couple of non-running photos...

Beers with Al and Jen...a common occurrence

 

Bumped into Jonesy-an Australian adventuring legend

 

Artsy shot from Whistler Mountain

 

Getting my snowboard on!

 

 
 
Now for some running pics...

Cross country ski trails-a great place NOT to run...

...but a great place for makeshift ice skating

Even small inclines like this gave me slippery attitude

Lost Lake, lost in the fog

Apparently you can't poop in the snow either-you can't win!

 

Vancouver...Terry Foxes and Ronnie Raccoons

(This post was meant to go up on the 28^th of December, but after arriving to Whistler to meet up with the boys and celebrate New Years Eve, I was basically either drinking, or snowboarding, or both. I then thought I’d be able to catch up on some posts with some downtime in Shanghai but among the websites banned in China (Facebook, Youtube, Twitter) is innocent little blogspot. So these accounts are a little late, but don’t think of it as being ripped off, think of it as a cheap version of time travel, back to a remote and distant time known as “two weeks ago”).

With a beauty of a white Christmas behind us, we flew out of Toronto on the 27^th December to start our two week holiday on route to landing back in Australia on the 8^th January. Vancouver was our first stop, and knowing we had about 24 hours to soak all that Van City had to offer, we made a beeline to our hotel as soon as we got off the train downtown. I don’t really know if a beeline is a good thing, or a fast thing, or exactly what it is…every bee I’ve seen seems to just buzz around petty aimlessly, perhaps stopping for some nectar every now and then. So yeah I guess beeline is the correct term, as we struggled to find our hotel with our already-too-much luggage, bouncing around the city aimlessly.
Once we arrived, we noticed we were right across the road from BC Place, Vancouver’s football stadium, which was hosting a music festival / rave, meaning our room vibrated with every annoying pounding of the bass. The brochures described it as having the most talented DJ’s around…which is as is an oxymoron if I’ve ever heard one…I guess they are pretty talented at simply pressing buttons those DJ’s…but I’m good at pressing buttons too (I have ninja PS3 skills, and are pressing keyboard buttons as we speak! Maybe I should be a DJ). But I digress…

The night was spent at a bar, trying to drink enough beers to sedate us and get a good night sleep in spite of the annoying doof doof going on across the road.

This led to a bit of a hangover the next morning, but not enough from deterring me from a good ol’ fashion yog around a new city. At 8.30 I got my gear on and headed outside to a leisurely 5 degrees…with absolutely zero snow on the ground and the hottest temperature I’d felt in weeks, I was like a pommy on Bondi Beach in winter, displaying my pasty white pins for the first time since summer.

My starting point was at Terry Fox Place, which had a statue and plaque dedicated to the great man himself. Terry Fox was a young man diagnosed with a bone cancer and was an above-the-knee amputee at age 19, and attempted to run across Canada (on his prosthetic leg) at age 21, in 1980. His cancer got the better off him about 1/3 of the way along his journey and he never finished his goal, but his legacy lives on, especially in Canada. I’d first heard of Terry a few months before our Melbourne to Sydney run. I won’t give you the full details (as I’d like to in more detail in another blog), but you can read about him here.

After a few snaps with Tezza (or T-Fox to some), I headed off, inspired and motivated. Inspired from Terry, and motivated by the fact I was kind of hungover and pretty hungry.

Terry Fox Plaza. Place of legends

 

 

I headed towards to famous Seawall, which is, as the name suggests a wall by the sea. But the cool thing about it is the fact it is a cycle and walking path that surrounds just about the entirety of Downtown Vancouver, meaning you can run for 30-40kms with the city on one side of you, and the Pacific Ocean, or the various bays on the other. And it seems it’s no secret. Every man and his dog were out walking or riding along the scenic seawall (ok, so only half the men had dogs, but there were a lot of mutts).  The people I was passing was as varied as the scenery…couples with prams, running groups, serious cyclists, lots of fit looking people, and even a guy jogging along in his jeans and dress shoes who looked quite hungover, in turn making me feel relatively good about myself.

Surprisingly, some people aren't aware this famous seawall even exists...the captain of this boat was clearly one of them

 

The scenery was abundant, as was my love for the countless female Vancouver hotties jogging along the seawall this beautiful city. I caught a glimpse of the ocean after a while and noticed a bunch of rocks on the shoreline. Not any old rocks, but six strategically placed rocks to form the equivalent of a 15 foot “rock man” known as an Inukshuk. Inukshuks hold a special place in Canadian’s hearts, as they represent their useful rock-man-making skills, or something like that.*

Inukshuk. Very Inuk-y shuk-y

 

 

*Ok, so it's more than just rock-making skills by the looks of it

 

Moving on from the Inukshuk, I noticed I was entering Stanley Park, the massive forest-like park adjacent to downtown. I don’t know who Stanley is (maybe he was an Inukshuk) but I like his park! Countless trails, hills, stairs, lakes and of course the Seawall surrounding it, makes for a pretty neat and accessible playground for the locals.

I ventured away from the Seawall and into the belly of the park, and soon realised that without the water to my left to guide me, I didn’t exactly know where I was going. I came across the beautiful and aptly titled Lost Lagoon, which made me feel a little better about not knowing exactly where I was.

Getting lost at Lost Lagoon

 

And just then, in front of me I saw an animal that I semi-rarely come across while on a run-a raccoon! He was about twice as big as a housecat (or once as big as one morbidly obese housecat), and leisurely waddled across the path a few metres in front of me to the lakeshore to grab a drink. I paused, and tried to get a photo of the little fella, but he was camouflaged in the shrubs and branches and weeds. I crouched and waited for him to come into view and within five minutes he was on his way back to the path. He eyed me up and down as he came towards me, and I tried to remember if raccoons were aggressive or how bad the damage would be if he decided to claw my face off…Rabies? Mad cow disease? Herpes? I couldn’t remember. By the time I remembered it was rabies, he was three feet away and I thought that jumping back and shrieking like a teenage girl at a Katy Perry concert probably wasn’t a smart idea, and with not much more than a sniff in my direction, little Ronnie Raccoon waddled back off into the bush with as little urgency as he had waddled out of it.

Ronnie Raccoon grabbing a drink at his local...

 

 

...and then doing a dine-and-dash

 

I continued along the lake hoping to see some of Ronnie’s family, but only came across swans and geese and Asian people…that’s not being racist, that’s just telling it how it is.

 

 

I veered out of Stanley Park and onto the northern side of downtown, joining back up with the seawall again. Instead of being lined with beaches and parks and Inukshuks like the southern side, the northern side was home to high rise buildings and wicked views over the bay to Northern Vancouver. The most interesting building I ran by was One Canada Place with it’s distinctive sails on top, which is where the seawall ends. Running by One Canada Place, I passed under a banner saying “The Canadian Trail”, and as I did, I noticed the bricks under my feet were engraved with the names of various Canadian towns in B.C, it’s most western province. Within 20 metres, a large coloured strip declared that I was now passing into the next brickwork province of Alberta, with the bricks now representing Alberta towns. This continued for all 13 provinces and territories, from west to east until I had run across this brickwork Canada in about 30 seconds…Terry Fox eat your heart out!

Crossing brickwork Nunavit, a Canadian territory at Canada Place

 

With the seawall coming to an end, I again headed inland, and dashed and darted around the downtown area known as Gastown, a neat little district with old red brick road and old school shop fronts, before returning to our hotel a little over an hour after I had left it. 12kms of photo-snapping, scenic running in and I was ready for breakfast, a coffee and to explore the rest of this sweet city.

As I draft this post up, it’s 5pm and we’re sitting on the bus headed to our next stop of Whistler, which will be our home for the four days...on the agenda is snowboarding, and catching up with mates from back home, meaning if today was my last run for 2013, it would have been a cracker of way to end it off!