Brave Girls: Inspiring Female Adventurers

I just watched an inspiring TED talk by Caroline Paul: To Raise Brave Girls, Encourage Adventure. For starters, Caroline is an amazing role model: eloquent and intelligent, she’s also a paraglide captain, a firefighter, and she once attempted the world record for crawling. (She crawled for 12 hours!)

Caroline tells us how there is a gender bias in promoting bravery at a young age: while young boys are encouraged to engage in “risky play”, young girls are often told to avoid risks, to be careful. I’m not going to lie, when I asked to play hockey at age 9, I was registered for figure skating. (Although, I ended up finding a way to make that risky, attempting triple salchow over and over and over.)

This is part of the reason why Jo, Nancy and I made Girls Gone Wilderness, to do a small part in shaping opportunities for young women to be tempted by adventures that promote excitement, fun, and a bit of courage. It’s not always natural when we’ve been raised to see mostly guys doing adventure sports, especially in biking, skiing, and the extreme adventures. (Ps! Our next event is almost sold out!)


After watching Caroline’s TED talk, I wanted to go back in time and meet some of the most courageous women throughout history. I went down a (wonderful) rabbit hole learning more about Katherine Switzer, (she broke the rules to become the first woman to run Boston Marathon) and Lynn Hill, (she was the first person, male or female, to free-climb The Nose in Yosemite) and Ann Trason (she broke, like, 20 world records in ultra-marathons). It was overwhelming, in a great way, and so I had to focus closer to home.  Today’s blog is about an inspiring BC mountaineer, whose first ascent was Grouse Mountain!

Introducing Phyllis Munday

Local BC lady Phyllis Munday, born in 1894, had a lifelong mission in the mountains. The first woman to reach the summit of Mount Robson, she was unique not only for her first ascents, but for her style of achieving them: she and her husband Don achieved many first ascents together, even after having a family.

Phyllis and Don pioneered routes in some of BC’s most sacred places, like Mount Waddington, where they spent over a decade of failed attempts. There is now a Mount Munday in the Waddington range (which, of course they summited, in 1930).

All this during a time when women weren’t really meant to even wear athletic attire:

Her male team members barely blinked when she’d stash her respectable city skirts somewhere on the trails and carry on in her bloomers. This was somehow less risqué than wearing trousers or knickerbockers.
Account from Experience Mountain Parks

To put this in perspective, when Phyllis was in her 4th or 5th attempts at Mount Waddington, US women had just gotten the right to vote, and women in Toronto still weren’t showing leg in public.

Time to do more, worry less. Like this time I had to crab-walk down a descent in the Rockies that scared me:


Photo by Julien.

“Women, like men, should try to do the impossible, and when they fail, their failure should be a challenge to others” – Amelia Earhart

Featured image, by Tory Scholtz.


Sunshine, Rainbows & Candies @ Canadian Death Race

It was the first summer in years where I hadn’t over-committed to athletic adventures. After DNFing Black Canyon in February, (and a bunch of other 100k’s, let’s be honest!) I decided to back wayyy off. I wasn’t sure I liked running long ultras anymore. I’d lost the stoke, and I’d kept trying to revive it, to no avail. I’ll stick to small, local events and maybe some low-key 50k’s, I thought.

But then, Tara and I ran the 75k West Coast Trail in June, and my spirits changed. The day was absolutely amazing, the type of magical day you dream about. After that day, I started to believe in the whole thing again. I started to reconsider. Maybe something in me had changed?

Spurred on by the West Coast Trail, I signed up for the Death Race two weeks before the event. It took me those 120k of mud pits, overgrown animal trails, over 5,000m of ups and downs and thunderstorms to finally re-discover my why. I’d forgotten, it’s not about having a perfect run. It’s about working on the practice of mental discipline and positivity, and the satisfaction that comes from meeting inevitable problems head-on and embracing them.

Below is a non-traditional “race report” which I originally posted on my Facebook page.

Canadian Death Race was fun! For fun/motivation I pretended I was on a fictitious co-ed relay team even though I was doing the 125k solo. (😂) It kept me laughing all day imagining a new character as I ran…
  • Leg 1 runner was Samantha. She’s fairly new to running and the team only invited her because she’s dating Lopez, (more on him below) and didn’t want her to feel left out. The team put her on the first leg, not expecting much. Samantha did her job well, started out smoothly and not too fast.
  • Leg 2 runner was Lopez. He’s a machine at climbs and descents, and he was amazing charging up Flood and Grande Mountains, possibly getting the team into 2nd place. However, he’s a bit of a low IQ type and got lost only one mile from leg 3, running 23 minutes back onto Leg 1. Talented, just not so smart…
  • Leg 3 runner was Jennifer, a road runner. The team chose her because that leg is essentially an old logging road. She did fairly well, nothing to write home about but she plugged away, and got the spirits back up after Lopez’ getting lost situation.
  • Leg 4 runner was Jordan, inspired by the real-life Jordan Maki-Richards. The team needed a strong-as-hell & smart ringer on this tough leg (over 2,000m climbing and 40k!) and Jordan fit the bill. She was super strong and just kept charging. She also really had her head screwed on. When a sudden thunder storm started that looked pretty menacing, she found tree cover, opened her emergency blanket and wrapped it around her base layer from her pack so it wouldn’t soak through.
  • Leg 5 runner was Jeniqua, a partier, who the team didn’t know that well and unfortunately was a bit of a lemon. She came for the night party & fun boat ride across the Smoky River, but she couldn’t really run worth shit. A bit like Lopez, she made a fatal error — the bright headlamp she’d brought wasn’t charged, (🤦‍♀️)so she had to use the less bright backup. She was also a super pretentious eater, all she wanted was things she didn’t have. In the end she got it done, but slower than the team would have liked.
Relay team alter-ego aside, all in all it was a super fun race & community! I appreciated the assorted beef products in the race swag (very Alberta!), the amazing community who treated me like family, and leg 4— Mt Hamel, where you could see amazing views of the Northeast Rockies & Smoky River Valley. I ended up in 5th Female / 21st overall after the events described above, which I’m pretty happy with, I think there were over 350 solo runners that started! (Wow, 134 DNFs this year! Likely due to the crazy wet, muddy bog conditions!) We can always improve and that’s fun to dream about as usual, but I’m happy with my headspace, how I stayed positive and single-minded all day.





Running The West Coast Trail: Tara and Alicia’s 2019 Female FKT

Good things take time

Alicia: In 2013, we went on a trip to Carmanah Walbran Provincial Park, which borders right next to the West Coast Trail. We knew the trail was just south of us, and it awakened this excitement about running it. Being winter, the trail was closed and off limits at the time, but it was planted in our minds for another day. Driving home, we stopped somewhere near Cowichan, and went to this little cafe. Not sure how the topic came up, but we started talking about it with the cafe owner, how we wanted to one day run the West Coast Trail. He told us it wasn’t possible. We rejected that notion. He insisted, “No, it’s not possible. People take a week to do it. You can’t run it.”

Tara: That encounter only fueled our fire even more to prove him wrong! Why couldn’t we?!

Camping in Carmanah in 2013 in bivvy sacks! Lol. Photo by Laurel Richardson!

Alicia: In the years since, Tara and I kept running, and the goal eventually expanded beyond just running the trail, but seeing how fast we could do it. Tara ran the trail with Tory in 2014, which was an FKT time at that time, and then she hiked with a big pack over four nights with Ryan the next year. I’d never done it, but I’d frequently read about it. Last summer I’d planned to do it solo on Canada Day, but then I got super iron deficient in June. I couldn’t imagine running 20k, let alone 75k, so thankfully I cancelled and took to writing instead of running. Thank the universe that I cancelled. I’d planned to do it alone?! Obviously it would be way more fun, and way more likely a fast time on the trail with the huge teamwork boost from Tara!

Tara: I can’t believe Alicia planned to do it alone! I was excited to join and jumped at the opportunity to run together. The first time I ran it I hobbled out the last 30 km due to an injury and has always wanted to go back to try running it again! I also thought this trail would feed to both of our strengths, technical rooty terrain. Alicia had run Hurt previously, and the West Coast Trail sounded like the Canadian version. Obviously it would be way more fun to run this trail together!

Summer solstice, 2019: the perfect day

Alicia: In the days leading up to our planned run of the West Coast Trail, I was anxious. Many nights I woke at 4am, our planned wakeup time, as though it was already time to go. I really respected the women who had come before us to run it quickly, and I wasn’t sure if we could run it faster. I also felt humbled by how difficult the trail would be, and how remote it is. Heck, I’d never even set foot on the trail.

The slight discomfort of the unknown continued until we woke up on the morning of our run. At 4am, the ocean right in front of our campsite in Port Renfrew was calmer than usual. The sky had a marine layer, and the birds weren’t even awake yet. For the first time, I felt calm and relaxed. All the logistics, the details, the challenges to get there– those had all been dealt with. There was nothing to worry about! Now we just got to have fun!

Tara: I was also nervous about the route and knew exactly what we were getting into. We had to book the permit back in January, so there was no option to change the date. I thought we would have more time to do more specific training together, but the date seemed to come quite quickly and we were busier than we thought this spring.

I felt similar to Alicia, the excitement rather than nervousness only went away once we started putting our paddle boards in the water and I got excited about the challenge ahead. Paddling over to the other side feels a little bit like stepping into another world. You can only get to the start of the south end of the trail by crossing the Gordon River.

Our campsite at the mouth of the Gordon River in Port Renfrew. That’s the south end of the West Coast Trail in those hills across the river! 😀

Alicia: Our planned start at sunrise (5:15 a.m.) obviously shifted to 6am, as we tinkered with last-minute (copious amounts of) sunscreen, and then we paddled on our stand up paddleboards to a misleading beach. We even had a false start: there was lots of overgrowth at the start, and we managed to get ourselves off trail within the first 30 steps. After wasting precious minutes looking for the trail, we concluded: might as well restart!

The first 20km were some of the most fun, technical trails I’ve ever run. It was like HURT, but with crazy-steep ladders and half-there wooden planks, less Pirate Aid Station and more bear/wolf/cougar. Within the first 10k, we’d already torn the mesh of our shoes, hammered our shins into roots, and tripped and saved ourselves. We also went off trail for a few minutes, as soon as we let our attention drift to volcano vacations. At one point I supermanned into a huge mud pit, and came out with my arms and hands covered in thick mud. I looked like a Tough Mudder competitor!

Tara: This trail is one of my favorites because of how technical it is, but because of that, it’s almost a matter of when you may trip up on a branch versus if.  When Alicia fell, was trying not to laugh and so badly wanted to take a photo, but I didn’t know if the fall was serious or not. Alicia got up so fast and insisted we keep moving. I had a similar superman fall later on in the day on more solid dirt, and similarly brushed it off.

I hammered my quad into a log early on within the first 2 km and had a moment of panic worrying that I may end up hobbling out of this trail again, luckily it was just a charlie horse.

One of many, many ladders on the West Coast Trail. Note the arms caked in dried mud.

Alicia: The south end of the trail is so fun at the start of the day, but I can’t imagine how much it would suck to run if you were coming the opposite way. 

Tara: I had run south to north previously and agreed this way made much more sense with trying to do a fast time. You get the harder and longer section of the trail completed first, and the boat for Nitinat Narrows is on the south side of the trail which means we wouldn’t have to wait on the other side of the river and hope the boat see us and comes quickly. We also didn’t have to worry about crossing a river at the end of the day!  

Alicia: After a long time of full concentration, we finally reached the first beach access point, near Walbran Creek. After talking with Matt Cecil before the run, we’d decided that we’d try to run the beach when we had the option, because he said it was quite a bit faster.

The beach was beautiful, with huge crashing waves. But it also felt painfully slow! We spent the first ten minutes zigzagging between soft sand, pebbly rocks where you would sink, and running on a firm but slippy underwater rock shelf. A few years ago, I’d cut my leg pretty badly after running when the tide was out from Kits Beach to near UBC in Vancouver, and I was still traumatized from that. Tara tried to lure me farther onto the rocky shelf, but I cowardly ran in the sinking sand. It was clearly taking me double the effort to keep up with her, so I kept criss-crossing between attempting to run on the tempting rocky shelf, then cowardly retreating to the sinking sand, then repeating. In this first beach section, I totally understand why this trail takes so much time. For a second, I worried that Chris and Holland would be waiting for us to finish in 18 hours.

Tara: Mentally I was struggling with the thought of running on the beach, and debated whether we should indeed take the trail. We took the beach whenever we could, but opted for the trail in the last 20 km when we had the option, as I was feeling the effort on the beach was both mentally and physically draining me. Cue the compromises that have to be made when running as a team versus solo!

Alicia: The day continued like that, trail-beach, trail-beach, and we stopped for water often, hoarding 1.5L in soft flasks every time without any water purification. (Hello, Giardia. Do you want a ride?!) Every thirty or so minutes, we’d encounter a group of hikers, all of them so happy, grinning from ear to ear, and offering encouragement. They could hear our bear bell from a mile away, so they were already ready to greet us when we came upon them. (Most hikers seemed to be hiking opposite us?)

At some point, I realized we were actually getting close to halfway. I looked at my watch, for the first time looking to calculate what sort of time would be possible. I didn’t want to do that earlier, because the trail is so technical, it would be discouraging. I couldn’t believe it. If we carried on at this pace, knowing the second half would be much easier than the first half, we could fairly easily break not 13 hours, but 12 hours! I never would have imagined that. Back when we were dreaming, we thought that a time in the 12-hour range would be fantastic, a “perfect day” sort of achievement. But sub-12?! I wasn’t sure whether to tell Tara or not. I decided to tell her, and obviously she had also figured it out. That was a huge boost, for the first time realizing how well we were doing.

Tara: I secretly knew that the real halfway point timewise was much sooner, but I didn’t want to jinx how we were doing and kept this quiet. We had hit the halfway point in my mind at 5.5 hours in, when we were near the old burger shack (Moniques)!  Around here, I felt a bit of a boost after knowing what our time was and picked up the pace a bit before we got to Nitinat Narrows. It was the excitement and surprise about how the day was going. I also thought we could push a little harder before getting to the boat as it was likely we would get a rest at the dock and need to wait at least 5-10 minutes for the boat driver to shuttle us over.

A rare moment of beautiful beach surface!

Alicia: Near Dare Point, we hopped back onto the trail from a beach section, which our Port Renfrew Parks Canada orientation host had advised. This section was my favourite! The trail was fairly flat, up high, with many views down to the ocean, and a constant sound of crashing waves. Several times, we passed through arches of ferns, and deep, dark patches where suddenly all the sunlight vanished. I felt amazing. It was breezy, the trail was super fun, and we were on track for an awesome time too! Above and beyond all that, I was really enjoying all the views, I think more than any other run I’ve done. Around here, Tara started to pick up the pace. (I found out later that she thought the Nitinat Narrows boat ride was at 36k remaining, when it was actually closer to the 32k remaining point. She’d picked it up a little bit, thinking she was going to get a rest at the boat!)

At Nitinat Narrows, we ran down a wooden plank to see the boat just about to leave. “Hey!” we yelled, not super loudly, but half-heartedly. (Didn’t want to be too annoying!) We arrived to the dock, realizing we’d have to wait for the boat to go for its trip and then return before getting us. Oh well, more time to eat our sandwiches! We thought. But then, the Narrows ferry operators came over to us, shook our hands, and told us they were bringing the boat back for us! “You two are the fastest yet this year!” they said, smiling. We were blown away that they were coming back to get us! This was a huge boost, with about 32k to go.

A waterfall along the trail.

The final 32k was a mix of beach and trail as we spent our last few hours in paradise. We kept eating and drinking water, navigated on and off the beach fairly swiftly, and we even ran into 2 long, lean black bears with about 14k to go. (Sorry to anyone who heard our terrible singing!) At our last water refill, we encountered two women taking a break from the hike, maybe in their 50s, at the stream. I could tell they were runners, because they asked very detailed questions about what we were eating, and they weren’t shocked— more so, very interested. One lady announced that she was competitive in nature, and now she wanted to run the trail! We told her she should go for it. We wished them a great hike, then we entered the final stretch, which was a beautifully flowy 12k to Pachena Bay.

Tara: Alicia patiently let me lead even though the pace had slowed to some walking on false flats. My legs were starting to seize up and I was having trouble running our normal pace.

Alicia: Poor Tara was on her wedding and honeymoon for a month before this, and wasn’t loving this part. But before we knew it, we saw an obscure sign and grass field. This was the end, far less monumental than I’d imagined. It was done!

Tara: Alicia talked me through the final stretches and before we knew it, we saw the trail sign in Bamfield and the orientation post on the grass field!  What the heck, we actually did it?! We finished in 11:34!

Pretty stoked to have finished in time for dinner at McKay Bay Lodge! 😀 Photo by Holland Gidney.

Running the West Coast Trail!

While everything is fresh as mud, we thought it would be a good time to share some of the things we learned for future runners! Here’s everything we learned from Tara’s previous 2 times on the trail, plus lots of blog-reading, and talking with Matt Cecil a few days before (thank you Matt!):

  • Travel south to north. It’s so nice to do the most technical part when you’re fresh, both physically and more importantly, mentally! The stretch of trail from Gordon River to Walbran Creek (approximately 20k!) is similar to the most technical section of the Baden Powell trail in North Vancouver, if you’re familiar with the area (between Grouse Mountain and Prospect Road). It took a ton of mental focus the entire time, and would be so hard at the end, after a long day! Doing it first made it super fun, while I imagine that doing it at the end would be frustrating and more like type 2 fun. Also, the technical nature of that stretch forced us to start out slower. It would be super tough to run too hard in this part! :p Lastly, this lets you get the Gordon River water crossing over and done with right away, rather than doing that when you’re tired at the end!
  • We used a stand up paddle board to cross Gordon River at the start, which worked really well. (Two of us kneeled on one board, plus we both had paddles and life jackets.) The water was super still when we crossed, it felt super safe. Our friend Chris towed the extra board back with her using the SUP leash.
  • If you can, time your run so that you can choose to run on the beach, or the trail. For us, it worked out great because that meant starting at 6am, which was also really nice for us with safety in mind. We’d learned from Matt that it’s often quicker to run on the beach when you can, because it’s more direct, obviously not technical like the trail, and sometimes you can find a nice rocky shelf to run on, under a few centimeters of water. We sometimes found it nicer to run on the beach, but more often we preferred the trail, just because it was shady, and the surface was much mor enjoyable. (Well, we love the technical stuff though!) Either way, it was so nice to have several occasions when we had the choice of doing either trail or beach, because the tides were out. We were able to learn what worked as we went, and made decisions on the fly. (We used the beach stretches to look at the map and plan the next sections. Also, it was easier to eat on the beach, to its credit.)
  • Running the trail on Summer Solstice was great, because it gave us ample daylight with sunrise at 5:15am and sunset at 9:30pm! It was really nice peace of mind, in case we had a longer-than-expected day!
  • You will laugh, but carrying a bear bell was a great little trick. Although we brought it to prevent seeing bears, it turned out to be mostly great for sharing the trail with hikers. It let them know we were coming with tons of notice, so we had lots of great interactions with hikers hearing us coming a mile away! Seeing all the hikers along the way, and how happy they were, was one of our highlights.
  • Having friends meet us at the end was super awesome, it just let us run confidently, not wondering how we would get to Bamfield (5k away from the trail!) at the end of a long day!
  • Bring a “lunch” (sandwich, or something yummy) that you can eat at Nitinat Narrows. This way, if the boat doesn’t come right away, you have something positive to do while waiting– eating something delicious (and calorie dense) that’s hard to eat while running! That’s what we did. We were looking forward to a little wait for the boat, and during the ride across, to have a lunch break, and dump the rocks from our shoes. (Either way, it’s positive!) But fortunately / unfortunately, the boat was just leaving, heard us coming, and they actually came back to get us! So in the end, we had zero time to eat! It was nice to have the more luxury food to make use of the time in case we had to wait.
  • In terms of training, we live in Squamish and Vancouver, and frequently get out on trails that are very similar to the most technical part of West Coast Trail. We did a training run from Grouse Mountain to Deep Cove in North Vancouver, that’s a good one! Also, Alicia did three runs down Sea to Summit in Squamish as training. (The hardest parts of the west coast trail are similar, but way flatter!) Tara did some sand running on vacation.  Either some training in the sand or snow if you’re not used to those conditions would be ideal!

Of course, a big important requirement for having a relatively efficient day on the trail, if that’s your goal, is having great weather, so that will just come down to luck! We lucked out with a sunny, not-too-hot day, and the week leading up didn’t have a ton of rain. This meant that the roots were all dry for us, and we got to skip a couple cable car crossings by walking right across the rivers. (We only did one cable car crossing!) I’m guessing this is a very rare and special treat.

Ways to do it even quicker

We think that a super-motivated gal could push herself to do this even faster, assuming a perfect day with the same dry conditions! Here are a few ideas:

  • Running the last 12k portion faster! We slowed a bit in the end, walking the gradual ups, but they are very smooth, non-technical and runnable if you’re able to push there!
  • We filled up water four times, but we could have filled up three times instead with an extra soft flask, maybe saving five minutes. (We had three 500ml soft flasks, maybe having a 4th would save some time.) You do waste a bit of time filling up while looking for the stream, especially when you’re on the beach. We also went off trail one time, down to the beach to get more water.
  • Maybe you could keep running when you see two big, lean black bears jump from the bushes onto the beach 50m from you? In our case, we stopped, started singing horribly, and then slowly walked past them once they hid in the bushes. Depends how comfortable you are!
  • In the first 20k, there was a downed tree which led us off-trail, up an animal path by accident for about five minutes. This was the one time we stopped paying full attention, and started talking each others’ ears off about volcano vacations. (Tara hiked a volcano in Indonesia the other week with Ryan, and some tourists were smoking the entire way, apparently!)
  • We were conservative running along the rocky shelf which was under a few inches of water on the beach, being super careful to not slip and hit our head! If you’re more aggressive, you could probably pick up the pace there, although it’s often covered in seaweed and algae. (Alicia had once slipped on a rocky shelf like that and cut her whole leg, so she wanted to be cautious.)

    Our beautiful campsite dinner venue in Port Renfrew!

Our packs

It’s nice to travel light, but the only way out on this trail is at Nitinat Narrows at approximately halfway, or in Bamfield. If you get hurt, the communication system is based on handing a piece of paper with information about your situation to the next hiker you see, and having them hand-deliver it to the next person they see with a radio on the trail. (!!) So, a bit slow. We knew we needed to carry enough stuff to survive overnight if we needed to, in the worst case scenario. That included:

  • Lightweight Gortex rain jackets (Arcteryx Norvan)
  • Merino wool long-sleeve
  • Buff that could be used as a toque or tourniquet if needed
  • Lightweight gloves
  • Extra socks
  • Emergency blankets
  • 1 SPOT device
  • 2 packs of matches and fire starters
  • Cell phones (although likely useless for making a call on the trail, you never know, maybe you can get 1 bar of reception somewhere… and, we could use it for navigation.)
  • Waterproof maps of the trail
  • For first aid supplies, we had bandages, antiseptic, Tylenol, Advil, antihistamine,  and medical elastic and bandages.

Most important, we had our friends waiting for us at the end, and they knew our route, and the time in which they should start to call for help.


The beach near the southern end of the West Coast Trail



We ate and drank a ton running the West Coast Trail! It really helped to do lots of planning before. Alicia sat down and literally wrote a google doc with a list of sweet and salty foods, to make sure she had variety. In the end, here’s what we ate:

Alicia: 2400 calories during the run including:

  • 2 Clif Tart Cherry-filled bars
  • Big bag of plain salt and vinegar chips
  • Huge bag of sour grape candies, gifted from Chris
  • 6 packs of Mott’s fruit snacks
  • 1 pack of Clif Chomps for electrolytes
  • 6 softflasks filled with 200 calories of Carbopro each, just for some extra
  • Salt packages just in case (literally, packages, like the ones you might see in the condiments section at McDonald’s)
  • In the second half, 1 cheese bun sandwich with lots of mayo and Havarti inside
  • Brought a high-protein teff waffle sandwich stuffed with almond butter and honey inside in case it took longer, but it didn’t!
  • For water, guzzled 14 (500ml) soft flasks of water throughout the day! (We didn’t bother treating the water, hope we don’t get giardia!)
  • Brought orange ginger Chimes, really didn’t like them!
  • Brought 1 pack of kids baby food fruit puree, but unfortunately, it had yogurt in it, which was sour and gross! Good emergency food though!

Like a kid’s birthday party snack table!


  • About half a pack of bacon in the first half!
  • Some tailwind to start.
  • Tried out new flavours of Muir Energy Gels got from Distance RunWear- Now she loves these!!!
  • Untapped waffles! (4-5!)
  • Majority of one of Alicia’s Teffles waffles
  • lots of jelly beans (late in the day this is all I wanted the last 20 km or so!)
  • A bag of salt and vinegar chips
  • Some coconut chocolate
  • A few bites of a ham and cheese sandwich, but couldn’t stomach this and opted for more jelly beans
  • Pack of mini eggs
  • Honey Stingers
  • Justin’s nut butter- also couldn’t get much of this down, too sticky when your mouth is dry!
  • Similar amount of water to Alicia/slightly less as I didn’t fully fill up on one stop!


Here’s a link to our Strava to get a good look of the route. Alicia’s and Tara’s.


Thank you!

To our amazing party / crew / SUP whisperers, Chris and Holland, who came along for all parts of the adventure except the actual running of the trail. They woke up at 4am to make coffee, shepherded us on SUPs across Gordon River at the start, towed the extra SUP back, drove our car to Bamfield on remote dirt roads all day, and were willing to wait until midnight for us to make sure we were safe in Bamfield! We’re ready to be your party / crew for this thing as soon as you are! 😉

Chris & Holland testing the morning paddle setup with Alicia lurking in behind.

A special thank you to Parks Canada, the West Coast Trail Guardians, the Pacheedaht, Ditidaht, Huu-ay-aht, and Nuu-chah-nulth First Nations for welcoming us onto this beautiful wild paradise, and protecting and preserving such an enjoyable route through it. Kudos to everyone who came before us to pioneer this route as an awesome run– notably Gary Robbins in 2010, and Jade de La Rosa who had the most recent women’s FKT.

Bradey Beach.

Black Canyon 100k DNF: Lessons About Joy

Nearly a month ago now, I toed the start line of Aravaipa Running’s Black Canyon 100k near Phoenix, Arizona. A “golden ticket” race, the event attracts a super competitive field, as the top-two men and women get to run Western States. (Non ultra runners may be wondering: woah – wait a second – is it really a reward to win a 100 miler?!)

Thank goodness for Tara (B), I’d trained with her every week, escaping Squamish deeper winter and doing marathon long runs on the North Shore. Tara was extremely fit, so they were tough! I have flashbacks of watching Tara pound out a 3:45 min/km downhill during a short tempo at the end of a long run… (Downhill, but still!) By the time I was standing at the dark, muddy Black Canyon start line, I felt fit and ready.

Tara on our shakeout run in Prescott before the race.

The race appealed to me for so many reasons back in the fall. It presented the idea of a fun girls hangout, with Tara B, Mallory R, and Cassie S all coming from across Canada (Vancouver, Winnipeg, and Waterloo!) to hang out together. The route itself also looked awesome– it was a point to point route on this beautiful Black Canyon trail, and it was net downhill. I was excited by the idea of a point to point course, and I also thought that the competitive field would be a fun challenge.

Cassie, Mallory and I watching sunset at our Prescott Valley zen house. I was pretty happy to skip the race expo and festivities to stay holed up in this place!

I’m a data-driven person, and when I looked at the stats before the event, I knew I wasn’t in the running for a golden ticket. I mean, the top-two women going into the race had marathon times of 2:44 and 2:39– I’d have to have a lot of heart to out-run them! Instead, my goal was to see how fast I could run 100k on trail, and hopefully, to minimize the gap between those women and myself.

Unfortunately, in the final hours before the event, the race organizers had to change the course for safety, due to concerns about rising stream levels. This meant that we only had 60km of unique trail, and then we had to do some doubling back and forth. I was disappointed, as the original course was the main appeal to me, but I understood the reasoning.

At the start line, I didn’t feel the excitement you’d expect. I felt motivated to see if I could run a fast time, but when I think about it, I wasn’t actually pumped for the running itself. Looking back, this should have been cause for concern.

The race began, and Tara, Mallory and I ran the first kilometers close together, navigating the muddy, hilly Jeep road. As it was so early in the race, everyone was friendly and upbeat. I met a couple women from all over North America, including a woman from Vermont, and another from Montana. I believe we all ran the first 10km a bit too fast, but we were excited to get the hell off the muddy Jeep road and onto a trail.

I remember Tara and Mallory drifting ahead at some point, and I was quite positive, locking into a forever pace that I felt I could maintain all day. I thought of my friend Jordan in Australia, and how she was so strong in running forever. I felt good, totally at peace with where I was at.

Around 30k, I started to feel quite bored. The desert hills continued forever, without much change in scenery. I glanced at my watch, and realized that I had about 7-8 hours left. “Just 8 more hours of running this same pace“, I thought to myself. That was a long time to maintain! I started to negotiate with myself. “If you finish this, then you can drop from Chuckanut [next month].

This was the beginning of my self-imposed destruction. 

Shortly after I started to really feel the sun exposure. It wasn’t too hot, maybe 20 degrees, but there was zero shade. I eased my pace even more, just chilling, knowing that an easier pace really helps when it comes to heat. Our new friend Nic was volunteering at an aid station, and he told me to dial it back. It became my mantra.

Photo by Nic. I think it’s only around 9 or 10am in this photo, and it’s already warm!

Unfortunately, I quickly became super nauseous around the 40k mark. My stomach was sloshing, and my nutrition quickly deteriorated. My plan was to drink CarboPro as a way of getting calories quickly, but with my stomach so volatile, I didn’t want to put any additional liquid in there! The nausea made me dizzy, and I tripped, falling superman-style onto sharp rocks on the trail. With my stomach in so much pain, I decided to walk for a bit. At first, walking was welcome and joyful. I imagined I was on vacation, staying at some kind of spa and doing a short 5k walk.

After a few minutes of walking, (likely actually half an hour!) I hated that too. At this point, I was barely crawling forward, I can’t even call it a walk. Tens of runners were coming up behind and looking to pass on the tight singletrack, forcing me to step off into the cacti every minute. The nausea persisted, and I started realizing that it would take me almost two hours to slither along to the next aid station at this pace.

Earlier I’d bartered with myself that if I finished today, I could drop from Chuckanut. Suddenly, I had a realization: I could actually just drop from both!

Around the same time, Denise B ran by, and I was amazed by how far back she’d started. She was so positive, telling me to eat some calories. I didn’t listen, with the knowledge that I was just going to drop, anyway! I watched Denise bound ahead along the trail, so composed and purposeful.

I considered whether I should drop at the aid station behind me, which was only 4k back, as opposed to 8k forward to the next one. Dropping backward would be awkward, I concluded. It was a narrow singletrack trail, and I knew that every runner would ask me if I was okay. I ripped my race number off, thinking that I could turn around and look like a volunteer, so it would be less awkward. Still, for some strange reason, I couldn’t get myself to walk backwards on the course. Even though I knew I was going to drop, I had to do it forwards. I put my race number into my pack, and continued crawling forwards. I could get there in two hours at this 15 minute per kilometer pace, I calculated. The next 8k is a blur, I just remember a duathlon of walking and puking.

I managed to puke and rally around 45k, and I enjoyed a couple kilometers of running, with nothing in my stomach. A runner in front of me found some garbage on the ground, it was my race number! I thought that I may be past the nausea, so I grabbed the race bib and continued past that aid station I’d been dreaming about, testing myself to continue to the next aid station. The high was short-lived. My stomach was a wreck, and after a couple kilometers, I was back to my uninspired crawl. When I thought about it, I hadn’t felt any joy, all day, and it was very unlikely that I would start to feel it at 60k. I walked through downtown Black Canyon City with a slight smirk, knowing that I was about to call it a day, conveniently cutting out all the new convoluted, re-routed parts of the course. A man made fun of me for walking as he drove his car into a Black Canyon gas station. “Shouldn’t you be running?” He asked. I continued my walk along the road, defiantly.

As I walked, my mind wandered into fascinating places. When I saw the second place female on the out and back, I glanced at my watch. I was certain that Tara was in third place close behind, and I was going to tell her how far ahead the second place female was. Perhaps to pull me out of my own misery, I started imagining that she was going to come second, and that we were going to Western States together. I’m done with ultras, but I can be a great pacer, I thought to myself. I even started thinking about how we could fund the trip !!!!

At 55k, I was so excited to stop running. Cassie would be done the 60k soon, and I knew that either Tara or Mallory would be crushing the 100k. I’d rather cheer for a friend who was killing it, then run without joy.

With a smile on my face, I handed the crumpled race number to the RD matter of factly, then heckled the other runners who were still in the warzone. Pizza ensued. Hanging out with Scarlett and Nikki, and later, the entire Canadian crew at the finish line, I started to finally feel joyful, for the first time that day.

In the end, Tara also caved to the boredom of the re-route plus the stomach sloshing, joining me to heckle at 70km. Niki and Cassie both ran super strong 60k races, both in top-10. Most admirable, after training in -40 Winnipeg winter, Mallory was a stoic powerhouse, running a smoking fast 9:33 and coming in third!

Our little crew post race! Oddly I look the most banged-up, those bandages on my knees are hilarious– and just covering little cuts from my fall. Photo by Nic!

I’m so at peace with this DNF. I never felt joyful once that day, which is my #1 reason for running. Too many non-joyful miles would suffocate my enjoyment in the sport, and I feel like I’m already getting precariously close to that edge, after so many years of running ultras.

I believe the problem was in focusing on results, rather than the process, the running itself. I was doing it to get a fast time, but not necessarily because I was excited to run an ultra. I can’t help but see the similarity to how I burnt out from track and field by age 11. I used to run the 1500m, and by age 10, I was already putting an incredible amount of pressure on myself. I expected myself to make the Youth BC Games, the Provincials, to get a varsity scholarship to some Ivy League school. There was always some standard, and some result I was seeking. I was 10, damnit!!!! Before long, I resented it. Each race I toed the bunched standing start line, I would tell myself: only one more race, then you can quit.

I think I’ve gotten myself into a similar predicament with ultras. I expect so much from myself, and no matter how much I say I don’t care, I can’t help but expect the best. I line up to a start line and expect myself to run fast, to the point that it’s not fun.

Exploring Seodna. (Worth all the hype!) Photo by Cassie.

Walking away from this race, (hah– literally!) I’ve finally seen the light. I need a break from the expectations I set on myself. I need to re-discover what brought me to trail and ultra running originally: exploration, grassroots community, inspiring adventures. Getting back to running for the joy of the feeling of it, without any watch or time or standard, without any expectations of distance or pre-set categories imposed by other people. The irony is that what originally made me fall in love with ultra running — defying norms and limits — is now holding me back, as I expect to run in neat categories like “100km” or “100 miles”. I need to get back to the carefreeness that connected me to the sport, running through amazing places for as little or as much as I want without definitions or expectations.

From the outside, not much will appear to change– I’m still going to be running a lot. But in my perspective, everything will change.

Team Thirsty Beavers in Sedona post-race. All my friends are so tiny!


This is what joy looks like – @taraberryadventures, somewhere in Prescott!


The Dog That Bit Me

Two weeks ago, a Rottweiler bit me.

I was running, of course. I was down a flat dirt road near the ocean, listening to How I Built This podcast, featuring Soul Cycle. It was a Friday afternoon. I happened to have the day off, and I was getting excited about the weekend. I was going to sneak 15k before the weekend even began, hoping to start discretely building lots of mileage before an upcoming 100km race.

Just as I started feeling good, this mini chihuahua came running, directly at me. It was so tiny, about the size of my left foot. How cute, I remember thinking. I stepped to the left so that I wouldn’t crush the little thing. Just then, everything else changed. There was a Rottweiler on a leash about six feet further to the left, and the second I stepped a foot left, it overtook its owner, jumped and bit my arm.

All I can remember is seeing the dog’s large jaw around my elbow and then acting like a four-year-old. I went into a weird state of shock, and frankly, I’m ashamed with how I reacted. I started crying, and I was irritated about the dumbest things– how the dog had interrupted my awesome podcast, how I’d gotten blood on my new iPhone, how I had to stop the rhythym of my run. There were angry tears, some swearing, some blood, and for some weird reason, I refused to tell the owner my name. She was really sweet, was trying to give me her name and phone number, but for some reason, I didn’t want it. I just wanted to run away.

So naturally, I did.

I’m stubborn, so I insisted on finishing my run, just wrapping a buff around my bloody elbow and then heading further. I was simply grasping for the only thing I had control over.

Tonight, I had a meeting outside the grocery store with the woman who owned the dog.

She’d brought me flowers, and a shirt, to replace the one the dog chewed.

Looking her in the face for the first time, I noticed she was pretty. She was stylish, her skin was really nice, and her eyes had sparkly eyeshadow. I suddenly felt a warmth between us, like I wanted to hug her.

We talked about what happened, and then her eyes started to well up. She told me that they’d decided to put the dog down. They’d adopted it as a rescue dog, and unfortunately, it came with trust issues. They’d taken the dog to a behavioural specialist in the past, but it was hard to train an old dog. Seeing her tear up, I could tell this whole thing was harder on her than it was on me.

I didn’t know what to say. I told her that she’d given the dog a great life and that she did the right thing. Hell, it was on a leash, jumped from far away and bit me. With my words, I tried to strike a balance between supporting her decision by agreeing how dangerously the dog had behaved, while not bashing the late dog she clearly loved.

As a fireplace-dwelling cat owner, I couldn’t fully understand how someone could unconditionally love a dog that’s capable of harm.

But I didn’t need to understand. The fact was, the Rottweiler was gone, and at this moment, we had closure to move on. We hugged, and then I told her I hoped to see her around town soon, before turning toward the grocery store.

“Good luck with your running”, she said, as we parted. For some reason, I said, “You too”, even though I didn’t know if she ran or not.

I left feeling inspired by the small encounter. We’d taken something negative, and transformed it into something that made us feel warm inside. I wondered if perhaps, navigating my way through these small daily challenges with other humans, and making the situations feel warm and fuzzy– maybe that’s a worthy goal in life.

Imposter Syndrome

I love it when a name for something is coined, and it makes you feel understood, like you’re not the only one. That other people experience it, too.

For me, the name imposter syndrome does just that. I’ve felt this lurking feeling of unworthiness in various situations in my life, but without consciously being aware of it. Once I heard the term imposter syndrome, the thought pattern finally reared its ugly head, making its way into my conscious awareness. Now that I’m aware of it, I can trap those thoughts, and choose whether to believe them, or more often, simply kill them. Not only that, the name told me that it’s a common occurrence, and that it often doesn’t reflect reality.

Photo by my talented friend, Mark Locki. Trail running along BC’s majestic Howe Sound Crest Trail.

In my running adventures, I’ve been lucky to rarely feel imposter syndrome, as I’ve been a runner for my entire life. But even then, I’ve felt it. Standing at the start line of UTMB’s CCC (2017) and TDS (2018) races in the elite section at the front, I felt a deep sense of “what the hell am I doing here?!”. Even though it’s based on a system of points driven by the past results I achieved, I still couldn’t help but feel like I was an imposter. Even though the race has decided that I belong in that section, and I’ve competed at the World Championships in my sport, I haven’t given myself permission to belong there. I’m waiting for some breakthrough, some crazy performance that will come, to convince myself that I belong. I’m starting to think that I’m giving myself an ever-raising bar to jump past being an imposter.

Photo of Tory, Tara and Niki along a run to Watersprite Lake, BC.

Aside from running, I more often feel like an imposter when I’m skiing. Even though I ski regularly in the resort and in the backcountry, I can’t help but always feel like “I’m not really a real skier”. I’ve heard lots of people talk about themselves in this way when they describe running. “I’m not really a runner”, they say, when they haven’t yet convinced themselves they deserve the term yet, even though they run a couple times a week. I find this crazy, and deeply fascinating. What do you really need to do, to achieve the status of a runner?! In my mind, I think you’re very much “a runner” if you jog once a week. My situation with skiing is the same– I’ve resigned myself to this subordinated category of “not a real skier”. I’m not sure what’s blocking us in these situations, perhaps it’s a way of protecting our ego, to always just tell ourselves “that’s okay, I’m not really an X”. Whatever the case, I do feel that we will never really improve, until we start defining ourselves as a full-fledged, “real” skier or runner or writer, or whatever. If we spend the time doing something on a regular basis, we deserve to consider ourselves a full member of that community, not a second-class citizen.

Photo of my friend Chris skinning up on a fun day out in Garibaldi Provincial Park, BC.

My fascination with these topics is that they extend to everything we do, from outdoor to work, and other life adventures. I strongly believe that if we’re denying ourselves permission to identify with a sport or profession, then we’re holding ourselves back. For myself, I only just started calling myself “a writer”. I’m not sure how many thousands of words I had to write to get there — but it involved a lifetime of writing, a recent 80,000-page manuscript, various jobs as a ghostwriter and technical writer, and all the posts in this blog. Some people have to take an undergrad or Master’s degree to feel like they’re really qualified to be a certain thing they want to be. Of course, learning and studying is a wonderful thing, but I do feel like sometimes, the extra education is just a highly-structured way of getting to a place where we can deserve to be part of a certain group. Once we finally give ourselves permission to identify as something, we’re more likely to feel invited to take part in that community, and fully learn and grow.

Thriving Through Our Dark, Wet, Rainy, Pacific Northwest Winter

Sorry to point this out, but working business hours during Pacific Northwest winter means that most of our free time is spent in the dark. The sun hasn’t even fully risen before we go to work, and then by the time we come home, it’s pitch black. Combine that with our classic heavy rainy, windy climate, and it can become a bit of a challenge to make weekday outdoor time enjoyable.

Because I live in Squamish, I consider myself a sort of expert in this topic. People say Seattle or Vancouver are rainy, but while Seattle gets about 5.4 inches of rain in December (and Vancouver gets about 6.35), Squamish gets a whopping 8.5 inches! In addition to our mega rainfall, in Coast Salish, Squamish actually means “mother of the wind”. So you can imagine the wet, windy climate that’s brewing outside my window as I write this.

Squamish rainfall! Courtesy of Climate Data website.

I decided that it would be fun to share a few tips I’ve learned to cope with the constraints of PNW winter, and to make the season fun, something I crave and look forward to each year.

Sauna / hot tub incentives

Where I live, there’s a place with a sauna and hot tub where I was able to get a monthly pass for $30 a month. I finally just did this last night, and thought, why haven’t I done this sooner?! Now, I’m planning to start all my runs from the sauna location, as a sort of carrot strategy. I don’t care how dark and monsoon-like it is, the idea of driving to a fun sauna night after work is enough to get me out the door!

Obviously I don’t have access to this oceanfront hot tub on a daily basis. My usual is just a local rec centre, sheltered from the normal monsoons.

Lunch runs 

Lunch is pretty much the only free time of day that’s light out, so it’s important to use that time to absorb a bit of sunlight! I try to get out for a 45-minute run at lunch, and then I have a quick shower to get warm and dry, because I likely just got completely drenched in monsoon-like weather. After that, I go to meetings with my wet hair in a bun, but I never mind at all. It’s always so worth it to get some daylight! To save time, I try to bring my own lunch, something easy that I can eat at my desk while working after.

Super-powerful headlamps

If mother nature isn’t going to help, might as well try to engineer our own brightness! I have a headlamp (Fenix HM50R) that goes to 500 lumens, and on the days when I do have to run at night, it makes it wayyy more fun. The headlamp is so bright that it lights up the entire trail, so I feel less freaked about cougars in the Squamish woods.

Friends make you invincible

For me, inviting along a friend tends to transform the experience and I forget about how it’s dark, wet, and dreary. It suddenly becomes light and fun, and I feel invincible. I’ll go on trails that I would normally avoid on my own, forget about hallucinating cougars, and generally be able to last about doubly as long in the same conditions.

Tara, trail running near Black Mountain

Shorter, more intense workouts

Jogging becomes way less fun when it’s dark and stormy, but shorter, more intense workouts seem to work great in cold, wet weather. I love doing 10k tempo runs once a week in the winter. They’re short enough that they feel easy to fit in, and because I’m working harder, I’m able to stay warmer while doing it, so the weather doesn’t crush my soul.

Find snow 

My ultimate way of appreciating the weather at this time of year is getting up above the rain and into the snow! I absolutely love snow, and pretty much any winter sport. Spending a few hours a week doing something different, whether that’s nordic skiing, snowshoeing, or backcountry skiing, keeps things fun and helps me to appreciate all the rain.

These are just a few ideas I’ve used to keep winter fun. What are your favourite ways to thrive in winter?

Happy winter!

Mount Atwell and Garibaldi illuminated on a clear night

Tara and Alicia’s Howe Sound Crest Trail Women’s F^2KT (Fastest and Funnest Known Time)

As a competitive outdoorsy person, I’ve always been drawn to the idea of going for FKT’s (fastest known times). There’s something special and unique about it– something exciting, pure, and maybe more natural than traditional races. The experience is stripped down, with no markings, no support, no visible competition to push you. It’s just you and the trail, plus everything you brought with you, and your knowledge. Just a watch to time you against everyone else who preceded you, and some way to verify you did it.

I set the Hanes Valley Women’s FKT in 2016, (someone challenge it!) and at one point around the same time, I was secretly obsessed with the idea of going for the Wonderland Trail FKT. (It was dumb, I was super iron deficient at the time.) The style that interested me the most was doing it as a team with another runner. To me, this added an element of complexity, especially in longer routes. Most people will hit a low point at some stage during a hard effort, and the odds are that I would most likely have my low point at a different time than my friend’s– so double the low points! On the flipside, I thought that if I teamed up with the right person– and if we knew each other well, that we could communicate to get past those compromises, and ultimately have the awesome satisfaction of sharing the experience together, as well as the memories later. And if the day turned out to be terrible, at least you could laugh about it with someone for years to come. The idea of approaching a challenge as a team really appealed to me.

First Attempt

Enter Tara. For years, we’ve been running buds, and very similar in our strengths (downhill and technical!). It was obvious for years that we would eventually take on challenges together, but with traditional races often getting in the way, it hadn’t happened. Finally in September right after UTMB, Tara had the idea to see how fast we could run the Howe Sound Crest Trail.

It was a rhetorical question, obviously I would want to go for it together. It’s my favourite local trail, its net downhill profile and technical terrain played to our strengths, and the idea of getting the record would mean something. The HSCT was my first real trail run in 2013, and I was so over my head. I was dropped by the group several times, completely exhausted, barely able to hike up the final climbs. I was so horrendously bad at it, holding the group up all day, that I nearly decided that trail running was not the sport for me. This isn’t for me, I thought, back then. Thankfully I realized that I really enjoyed being in the mountains, regardless of my skill, and that it’s fun to have big challenges. Fast forward to today, and the idea of getting the FKT would signify something– progress, a reward for ‘believing’. Honestly, in 2013 I would have never believed it was possible, when I was alone at the back of the group, struggling. Next thing you know we had set a date, we would go for it on Thanksgiving weekend, whenever the weather looked best.

Right after Tara and I made plans, Sam Drove ran it super fast — when I saw her time– 4:37.56, I thought it was out of reach. But that made it even more fun, to have a real fast time as a target.

So, on October 6, Tara and I went out for our first attempt. Being cautious and not super confident, we went out at our own efficient pace, thinking we would focus on doing our best, but that Sam’s time would be hard to beat. We started slow, getting over five minutes off pace by St. Mark’s, but we figured we’d make up time on the technical sections, near the West Lion. Not so. Before long on the descent from Mt. Unnecessary, I slipped on black ice and super-manned into a rock, head-first. Thankfully my hip and thumb took 100% of the beating, and my head gently hit the rock… it was unbelievable. Needless to say, after that, I had adrenaline pumping, my confidence was wiped, and I couldn’t get into a regular flow on the technical sections. The black ice continued all the way until Harvey Pass, so that didn’t help my fearful state either. (Although, Tara didn’t seem as affected — she had to wait for me as I crab-walked and stalled on any steep parts!)

One of many countless insanely beautiful sections along the trail. Photo by Tara.

By the time we hit Hat Pass (just past the Brunswick Mountain turnoff), I knew we were way off pace, like 10-15 minutes. I didn’t mention anything to Tara, it’s not like that would be motivating at this point– with only about an hour to go, there wasn’t enough time left to make up that big of a gap. We weren’t expecting to beat Sam’s time when we started, and we were still super motivated to set our personal fastest time on the trail. The last sections from Deeks Lake to the bottom (one of our strengths) went well, and we finished in 4:51, happy with a sub-5 time, as we had both only ever run the trail at party paces of around 6-9 hours with friends.

War wounds from attempt #1. I was a liability, constantly falling or nearly falling. Photo by Julien.

Second Attempt

Our run boosted our confidence, and we realized that if we got the right conditions, we could maybe beat the record. We would need to have a great day, on an ice-free trail. But we live in Canada, and given it was already mid-October, we would have to wait until next August, we figured. I continued on with other plans, running Valley Vertikiller, and generally overdoing it.

By the end of Valley Vertikiller, I was ready for an off-season. I was craving snow sports, social activities that don’t revolve around running 24/7, writing, and drinking copious amounts of all my favourite hot drinks, in between cat cuddles. I started a two week “active rest” itinerary, which Julien doubted I could achieve. Man does he know me well. I was so dedicated to my “two week running break”, until day two, when Tara invited me to give the Howe Sound Crest Trail another shot on the coming Saturday. There was a sunny day in the forecast, and apparently the ice might have melted up high, she said. I stared at the text for less than a few seconds before impulsively caving. I was tired, but I wanted to push past it and get it done.

With “rest week” shot and killed, I started running a little bit to come out of hibernation, while Tara hammered out a crazy work week. My runs made me wonder if I was up for it. I was tired running what would usually be a slow pace, on a flat trail. How was I going to rebound for such a demanding challenge, by the next day? I didn’t want to tell Tara, but I confided to Julien how doubtful I felt, and he was so positive. He told me that it’s all in my head, that whatever I’m thinking is my reality. (Best husband ever.)

You can see the look of fear on my face. When you know it’s going to be a hard 4+ hours…

This being our second attempt, and very clearly going for it, I was way more nervous the second time around. Unlike the first time, I had told a couple friends about it, so it felt more legit. And also, knowing our time from last time, we knew it was within reach — but that it would be painfully close, most likely. Julien kindly shepherded us to the start, and we did a warmup in the parking lot of Cypress Mountain, just like it was a race. We squandered as much time as we could until we just had to get going. Julien walked us over to the start, took one of our only photos of the day (I look terrified), then we started our watches and away we went, into the forest, no turning back.

We knew that we had gone out too slow at the start last time, so we had to up the pace right from the get go, which sucked. That beginning section to St. Mark’s is tough, especially when you have a long way to go afterwards, and when you’re following Sam Drove’s bleeding pace. I was breathing hard from the start, both from the effort, and from the crazy race-like excitement.

As we neared St. Mark’s, I started to see that Tara looked much more fresh than me, and the negative self talk started in hard.

Look how much more fresh and fast she is, I told myself.

She didn’t race last weekend, you did. The voice added.

Plus she’s tiny.

You’re slowing Tara down, you should just let her go for the record, and just run slowly behind. Feel how tired you are. Feel how easy it would be to slip into an 8-hour HSCT pace… 

And on the thoughts went. Finally I caved and near the St. Mark’s summit, I told Tara to go on without me, that I was too tired to make it happen today, after a crazy fall.

Thankfully for me, Tara wouldn’t have any of this bullshit, and she tricked me into continuing. She insisted we go on together, and that if we needed to, we could bail out later, near the turnoff to Lions Bay. What she didn’t tell me then was that she knew that we were doing great, faster than last time, and that we would be happy on a downhill soon enough. I agreed to follow Tara as though she was setting her own pace for the record, and I just told her I’d try to hang.

She was right, I’m not sure what happened but we were getting to the West Lion much faster than last time, and I started to feel amazing. Luckily, there was barely any ice, and I found my normal rhythm. This time, Tara and I were totally in step, loving every minute and yelling out in joy more than a few times. As we passed through that section, I thought of my friend Mark and how he had come up there to take pictures last time. I air high-fived his spirit.

From a previous trip to this beautiful place, around the same time of year.

Right before the West Lion, we passed a guy on the trail and didn’t think too much of it, until he came riding our ass for a solid five minutes. We hadn’t seen anyone in a long time, and so it felt weird to have company, at exactly the same pace, right behind us. I wanted desperately to drop him, to free myself of the feeling of being chased, but I didn’t want to go any faster. So, I befriended him! Turns out his name is Clayton, and it was his first time running the trail. (He was fast!) As Tara led the pace in a militant fashion, Clayton and I talked about the beauty of the Grand Canyon in winter, and the Kneeknacker. We joked that he should join us for our “sub 4:40 goal”, but that if he fell and hurt himself, that he’d be on his own to call a chopper for help. (We were kidding, obviously we would help our new friend — or anyone — if they were hurt out there.) But still, any time I hit a slick patch and slipped, I would yell out to warn him behind me. I also joked that we would have no photo breaks or water stops — and he seemed totally into it. The three of us powered up and over the often-forgotten James Peak, and all the little bumps (that feel big) on the way from the West Lion to Harvey Pass– one of the longest sections on the trail. Tara set the pace, I put my hands on my knees and followed, and Clayton powered along behind me, even cheering us along as we went. I really enjoyed his company, and the way he mellowed things out a little bit. (Although Tara was concerned I was talking too much, I believe.)

From a previous HSCT adventure with Mike, Ryan and Julien in 2015, party pace.

Near Hat Pass, I started to realize we were ahead of the record pace, and that, if nothing went wrong, we could likely get it. From there, we had our favourite sections ahead, with a bunch of technical trail to Deeks Lake, and a huge net downhill to the parking lot. Still, it’s not over until it’s over, and even then, I wanted to run it as well as we could, to set the bar as high as we could for the next person. Tara let her militant hammer pace lapse for a moment at Deeks Lake, so it was finally my time to lead. The descent flew by in what felt like no time at all, and somewhere in there we lost Clayton behind us. That old logging road, the last 4k, is a deeply comforting site to me. It means you’re almost done, especially if you can remember your turnover and churn out some 4-5 minute K’s.

Julien turned up with about 2k to go, and he told us we were ahead of the record, which was nice to hear– I still wasn’t certain. He tried to make us go faster by creeping behind us, but by that point, we were in a flow state, in our own little world. And there it was, the yellow gate, it felt like it came sooner than I expected it to. Oh shit, it did, our time was 4:28.15! Two months ago, I would have never believed that I could run the trail in that time– I have Tara and Sam to thank for that! We took some obligatory ugly parking lot photos, and then headed straight back to Copper Coil in Squamish, puffy hands and all. Time for a beer! (And lunch!)

Post-adventure Whistler Chestnut celebratory beers … the best.

I love this trail, and if you live in (or are visiting) Coastal BC, you must go! (During summer!) I love doing this trail in every style. As a party pace, it’s fun to jump in the sparkling lakes, eat lunch at one of the many panoramic views, reconnect with old friends and make new friends. And as a tempo, it’s almost a playful feeling, to run the technical trail as fast as you can.

Random nerd / gear notes

  • Here’s a link to our strava file, for everyone to go out and chase! It’s awesome, there are mini segments within the whole trail.
  • Here’s a link to the Howe Sound Crest leaderboard on Strava
  • Here’s a link to a good description of the trail
  • For nutrition, I carried 2L of water with 800 calories of Carbopro, tons of Chime’s Ginger Chews (pre-opened! I find them so hard to open while running, especially when my hands are cold!), actual salt packages like the kinds you get at cafés, plus two Luna Bars as extra food in case.
  • For safety/mountain gear, in my bag I carried an arc’teryx norvan SL jacket, a merino wool longsleeve, a buff, fancy dollar store gloves, an emergency blanket, minimalist first aid kit, and we had 1 fully charged cell phone between us. We had told Julien our route, and the time we were expected to finish. If one of us got hurt, we certainly wouldn’t be comfortable, but we would have enough on us to make shelter and wait for help.