Gord's Frozen Ass 50KM (aka. Jessica vs. a LOT of snow)
I absolutely love race reports. Not only do you get a really neat sense of the race that you just can't get from elevation profiles and course maps, you get a sense of the writer. When I read Sarah Seads' Lost Souls 100km race report from 2017 it was like I was there, and I was rooting for her and that positive mind of hers. When I read Dave Proctors' race report of the 100 mile I was (possibly too?) amused by his anecdote about catching some wine in the face from his pacer. Race reports chronicle moments that will never happen again and feelings that should.
February 19th, 2018
Going into Gord's I will admit that I had my expectations set high and sense of the course was on the tragically low side. I went in with beautiful splits planned to run it around the four hour mark (stop laughing, I know now, I know). Even though I knew it had snowed while we were in Calgary I thought 'I mean, I run in snow all the time?' . Needless to say underestimating Gord's was my greatest mistake of the day and not one I'm likely to make again any time soon.
When we arrived at the Bow Waters Canoe Club for the briefing and start line everything seemed very calm, the cold was a welcome distraction from the realization that I recognized several really tough ultra runners in the room- no pressure! Gord himself came and kindly offered to allow anyone who dropped from the 50k at two loops to be recognized as a 25k finisher. And in my brilliance I remember thinking to myself, 'Well nobody is going to do that!'. Oh Jessica, if you only knew...
The first couple of kilometres were lovely, very little snow on the path away from the club and down a smooth access road toward the golf course. And then we hit the deep, shifting snow section that, in the eight times I had to cross through it total, had me questioning my life choices for several hours. It was that awful sort of snow where your foot falls through and slides so you never have stable enough footing to run well. In the first go through, while the gentlemen at the front broke trail, I honestly considered packing it in after two laps because it was so unrunnable at that point. On return in the first loop when we hit that initial lovely maintained patch it was so lovely to be running full tilt rather than slogging through the snow. And that little bit of lovely pushed me back out for loop two, knowing in my heart that I wouldn't be coming back to HQ to call it on return.
With each run through the trail sections they largely got better (except for that super messy back section toward the aid station- that stayed decidedly the same all race). Once I was acutely aware that I was no longer in this game to place or meet a time, that I was in it to complete the race I registered for, I reevaluated my goals. I decided that instead of running sub 4 I would run as kindly as possible- I would be sure to let those elite folk by on the single track whenever they came around in the hopes that they would get the glory they came for. I would try to encourage other people to keep going. I would try to make sure that my fellow racers knew that I was seeing how amazingly they were running a crazy course and that I was proud to share it with them. Shifting my mindset from competitor to joyful participant in my opinion is why I was able to hang in.
Of course hanging in wasn't all on me- the volunteers were so amazing and helpful. Volunteers are the real stars of races in my mind because they sacrifice of themselves in sometimes crazy conditions just to support the dreams of people they don't know, there's a lot of beauty in that. On my second return to HQ I recognized Char Hoyem from Running Room at the aid station and was thrilled. She has been kind enough to share her thoughts on Lost Souls with me in the past and is such a lovely, jubilant woman. She was a good omen in my mind and when I asked how far behind I was for women she reminded me that a large portion of the field had DNFed at that point and that finishing was what mattered now. So I went back out and then back out again.
It wasn't until about the 46km mark that I really started to feel the effects of grinding in the snow all morning, but when it happened it happened huge. Going up that beautiful access road for the final time was so painful in comparison to when I flew down it at the beginning of the race. I was very intentional in playing the Prince EA in my SoundCloud then because, "...pain is life, but you get to choose what type; the pain on the path to success or the pain of regret.". At this point in my life I am willing to fail going full bore at the wild things I choose to tilt at, I am not however willing to live a life on the ground.
When the finish chute was in sight I did what felt like sprinting down but honestly probably looked like something more akin to hobbling. And there was Char shouting love at me- she was absolutely the good omen I had believed her to be. I finished Gord's Frozen Ass 50km in just over seven hours amidst a massive wave of DNFs and what was described as the worst conditions the race had seen in its 31 year history. I hadn't broken anything, my feet by some Salming related miracle were still dry, and my heart was whole- it was a good day. And even though my time was terrible, the worst I have ever run on 50k by a mile, I think Gord's was more about falling in love with the process of suffering (because joy and pain really are closely married), appreciating the racing community I am so privileged to be a part of and foremost in staying humble. I don't believe every race can or should be a star performance because sometimes you just need to learn from the fall and embrace the pain. Not all pain is bad 💖
February 19th, 2018
Going into Gord's I will admit that I had my expectations set high and sense of the course was on the tragically low side. I went in with beautiful splits planned to run it around the four hour mark (stop laughing, I know now, I know). Even though I knew it had snowed while we were in Calgary I thought 'I mean, I run in snow all the time?' . Needless to say underestimating Gord's was my greatest mistake of the day and not one I'm likely to make again any time soon.
When we arrived at the Bow Waters Canoe Club for the briefing and start line everything seemed very calm, the cold was a welcome distraction from the realization that I recognized several really tough ultra runners in the room- no pressure! Gord himself came and kindly offered to allow anyone who dropped from the 50k at two loops to be recognized as a 25k finisher. And in my brilliance I remember thinking to myself, 'Well nobody is going to do that!'. Oh Jessica, if you only knew...
The first couple of kilometres were lovely, very little snow on the path away from the club and down a smooth access road toward the golf course. And then we hit the deep, shifting snow section that, in the eight times I had to cross through it total, had me questioning my life choices for several hours. It was that awful sort of snow where your foot falls through and slides so you never have stable enough footing to run well. In the first go through, while the gentlemen at the front broke trail, I honestly considered packing it in after two laps because it was so unrunnable at that point. On return in the first loop when we hit that initial lovely maintained patch it was so lovely to be running full tilt rather than slogging through the snow. And that little bit of lovely pushed me back out for loop two, knowing in my heart that I wouldn't be coming back to HQ to call it on return.
With each run through the trail sections they largely got better (except for that super messy back section toward the aid station- that stayed decidedly the same all race). Once I was acutely aware that I was no longer in this game to place or meet a time, that I was in it to complete the race I registered for, I reevaluated my goals. I decided that instead of running sub 4 I would run as kindly as possible- I would be sure to let those elite folk by on the single track whenever they came around in the hopes that they would get the glory they came for. I would try to encourage other people to keep going. I would try to make sure that my fellow racers knew that I was seeing how amazingly they were running a crazy course and that I was proud to share it with them. Shifting my mindset from competitor to joyful participant in my opinion is why I was able to hang in.
Of course hanging in wasn't all on me- the volunteers were so amazing and helpful. Volunteers are the real stars of races in my mind because they sacrifice of themselves in sometimes crazy conditions just to support the dreams of people they don't know, there's a lot of beauty in that. On my second return to HQ I recognized Char Hoyem from Running Room at the aid station and was thrilled. She has been kind enough to share her thoughts on Lost Souls with me in the past and is such a lovely, jubilant woman. She was a good omen in my mind and when I asked how far behind I was for women she reminded me that a large portion of the field had DNFed at that point and that finishing was what mattered now. So I went back out and then back out again.
It wasn't until about the 46km mark that I really started to feel the effects of grinding in the snow all morning, but when it happened it happened huge. Going up that beautiful access road for the final time was so painful in comparison to when I flew down it at the beginning of the race. I was very intentional in playing the Prince EA in my SoundCloud then because, "...pain is life, but you get to choose what type; the pain on the path to success or the pain of regret.". At this point in my life I am willing to fail going full bore at the wild things I choose to tilt at, I am not however willing to live a life on the ground.
When the finish chute was in sight I did what felt like sprinting down but honestly probably looked like something more akin to hobbling. And there was Char shouting love at me- she was absolutely the good omen I had believed her to be. I finished Gord's Frozen Ass 50km in just over seven hours amidst a massive wave of DNFs and what was described as the worst conditions the race had seen in its 31 year history. I hadn't broken anything, my feet by some Salming related miracle were still dry, and my heart was whole- it was a good day. And even though my time was terrible, the worst I have ever run on 50k by a mile, I think Gord's was more about falling in love with the process of suffering (because joy and pain really are closely married), appreciating the racing community I am so privileged to be a part of and foremost in staying humble. I don't believe every race can or should be a star performance because sometimes you just need to learn from the fall and embrace the pain. Not all pain is bad 💖
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