If you want to weaken something, first you must let it grow strong.
This summer I lost my job and then I DNF’d one of the biggest races of my life.
It has been the most amazingly horrible beautiful summer ever.
You may wonder why I’m starting a race report this way. I really have two stories to tell and as much as I’ve tried, I cannot separate the two. If you are looking for a play by play of course descriptions and splits, you won’t find it here as this isn’t your typical race report. As usual, I use writing as a way to process events, thoughts and feelings. I thought for a long time before I decided to tell the full story, but if someone can find some encouragement in it, then it’s worth sharing.
I first visited Manning Park back in 2016 for the Fat Dog 70 miler (race report here). It was one of the best race experiences of my life, and although I have a rule of never doing the same race twice, when my friends Dave and Ihor invited me to sign up for the 120 miler with them in Dec, I really couldn’t resist. At that point I had thought it was a UTMB qualifier, eventually finding out that with the UTMB World Series changes, it wasn’t. Even so, Manning Park is hands down one of the most stunning places I have ever been, and I wanted to return.
No one signs up for a 120 mile race in the middle of the wilderness because they simply want to run. That's what marathons are for. I guarantee you that every single person who crossed that start line was seeking something more. These races are pilgrimages of the body, mind and soul. You run through refiner’s fire. This entire summer has been quite the period of personal growth, discovery and healing for me. It seems every race report I write is totally different. That’s because no two ultras are the same, and I’m never the same. A different me starts and finishes every race. I can’t write this report without starting at the beginning.
In June I showed up at work one day and came home with a banker’s box and a plant under my arm. To say I was shocked was an understatement. I felt humiliated, confused, scared and alone. I had a mortgage, two kids in braces, and a belief that my value was intrinsically tied to my ability to work and suddenly found myself without the structure and security that an occupation provided. At the same time, I was exhausted, completely burned out, and the company had generously ensured I was taken care of for a while. It only took me one day to realize that what initially seemed like the worst thing ever was actually a massive gift. I was suddenly available for all the end of school activities for my kids and looking forward to a summer of family and running events not constrained by precious vacation days. I will also admit the idea of unlimited sleep sounded pretty appealing.
I woke up on my first day of unemployment, got the kids off to school, and immediately headed up Moose Mountain. I think best on the top of a mountain and now had all the time in the world to train, so why not? I planned to spend the day like a pro runner – morning run, afternoon nap, evening run. After 7.5k and 700m of climbing I reached the summit and paused. I asked God for guidance, to tell me what to do. What do you want me to do Lord? I started to descend.
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| Moose Mountain Summit |
Before I could think another thought, I found myself sprawled on the scree slope, covered in blood from the rocks, and howling in nauseating pain. I had sprained my right ankle so badly I almost vomited. I couldn’t believe it. Six weeks out from Fat Dog, just recovered from COVID with lots of catch up to do, suddenly unemployed with all the time in the world to train, my friend Sarah coming in a few days to go running in Crowsnest Pass…and I had just sprained my ankle on the top of a scree covered mountain. I stood up and tested it. I could weight bear…it wasn’t broken. The real pain and swelling hadn’t set in yet, and I was able to run:walk the 7.5K down to my car. As my whole foot started to turn black, I knew multiple ligaments were gone. Completely torn ligaments don’t hurt.
As soon as I got home I texted my mom, “I guess God wants me flat on my ass.” Her reply, “Yep. I guess God wants you flat on your ass for awhile. Can only go up from here. Rest. Heal. Regroup. We’ve all got you. ❤️🙏” #lovemyfamily
And so I spent the week on the couch, doing rehab, and thinking. Looking back, if I hadn’t sprained my ankle, I’m positive with all my extra time, I would have overtrained in overcompensation for what I felt I had lost while having COVID. I may have pushed myself into a long COVID situation, or gone on an adventure so far off grid I may have gotten into worse trouble. You know when you pray those prayers that you truly give God permission to answer? Be careful because He does and not always how you would like. He wanted me to be still…and know.
I felt useless. I am a 4th generation Ukrainian-Canadian farm girl who has always been rewarded and valued for hard work. My great grandfather came from the Ukraine as a 16 year old orphan and homesteaded the land that has now been in my family for over 100 years. Hard work = survival. It’s in my DNA. For the first time in my life I wasn’t working. What was I supposed to do with myself? I decided to take the summer to decide what I wanted to do next and just enjoy life. I soon realized I had so much planned, that I had no idea how I would have done it all while also working. My mom reminded me, “Kim – you don’t have time to work until at least Sep!” She was right. There was far too much to do! But I told her, “Wouldn’t it be cool if I had a job by the race? Then I could really relax and just run.” Losing my job was the destabilizing catalyst I needed to deeply reassess my goals, priorities, desires and dreams. I also started to see my value not just in the things I accomplished, but in who I was and the time I could give to my family and friends. Somehow I was completely ok with not working and felt no urgency at all about finding a job. The fact that my family was so supportive was a pleasant surprise.
I started doing lots of hiking instead of running, still getting some vert in. Within 2 weeks I could run non-technical terrain, and managed to log 50-55 mile weeks of hiking and running. Not huge miles, but I took what my body gave. Sinister 7 happened and I had a great weekend crewing and cheering for Sarah and Ihor in the 100 mile event. It was such a gift to have the time to relax and not worry about rushing back to work. I did not miss it at all.
My ankle continued to improve and I felt confident in the few weeks heading into Fat Dog. I was not as well trained as I had hoped, but there was no swelling left in my ankle and it felt good enough on technical terrain to handle 120 mile pace. I had also trained hard all winter and spring, ran a very good race at Gorge Waterfalls 100k in April, and had a good base. I was sleeping in, training in the hottest parts of the day, having naps, cooking and eating well. I was the most rested I have ever been in my life which was a very odd feeling for someone used to being chronically fatigued.
Throughout July, I half heartedly searched for work. The truth was I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Did I want to return to being a clinical physiotherapist? Continue in health care management? Go back to school? Work full time? Work part time? Work for myself? Coach? Teach? I wasn’t worried about finding work as I knew I had many very marketable skill sets, but I didn’t know where to focus my efforts. I applied for a few positions, but nothing came of them. Nothing I found on the job boards really excited me and I wasn’t going to waste the gift of time I’d been given by rushing into something - fueled by a scarcity mindset - that wasn’t a good fit.
The last week of July, I started to get discouraged and started to let the fear creep in. After a month off, I was finally starting to feel like myself and I was concerned that I still didn’t know what I wanted to do.
“The answers will appear when you’re ready for them. Allow yourself to be ready.”
And so, in another simple prayer I got out of my own way and gave it all up. I gave up my job search, I gave up the fear of not being able to provide for my kids, I gave up the fear of making another career choice that wasn’t the right fit. I decided I was going off Linked In because it was stressing me out.
That very afternoon, I got a message from a Linked In recruiter telling me my profile was a perfect fit for a non-profit job she was trying to fill and would I be interested in hearing more about it? The idea of working for a non-profit health care organization was something I had never considered and it intrigued me. I agreed to talk to her.
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| Bonk and I are on the road! |
A week later the day arrived when I loaded up my car to start the journey to Manning Park. There I was meeting a large crew from Manitoba, Sarah from the Comox Valley, and Ihor from Chilliwack. It was starting to get real! Conversations had continued with the non-profit and I found myself parked at Tim Horton’s in Penticton doing a second interview from my car. What was happening? I ended the
After a quick stop in Princeton to say hi to Joel Toews (racing) and Brad Whitson (crew), I arrived at our Manning Park Resort cabin completely relaxed. Dave, Marty and Carlos (friends from Winnipeg) arrived a few hours later, and Sarah (my pacer and crew) rolled in the next morning. The rest of Thursday was a flurry of organizing drop bags, the pre-race brief, eating, and logistics discussions.
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| Brad & Joel (and Bonk, my running mascot) |
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| Kristian, me, Dave, Ihor, Carlos, Marty |
Race Day – Friday Aug 5
Start Time: 10am
Cut Off: 48 hours (increased to 49 hours this year due to course changes)
Distance: 123.5+ miles
Gain: 29,236' +
Location: Cathedral Provincial Park and Manning Provincial Park, BC Canada
Although the area had just had a heat wave of 35C, race morning dawned clear and cold. It had actually frozen during the night. The 10am start for the 120 miler was a two hour drive back toward Keremeos in Cathedral Park. This puts into perspective how far we had to run. Incidentally, we did not have cell service at all in the entire stretch of Highway 3 that I had driven two days previously and taken all those calls. Hmmm. How had they gotten through?
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| My good luck charm |
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| Team Free Agent |
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| Joel and I looking the best we ever would the rest of the weekend |
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| GPX track ready to go! |
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| The two reasons I got into this mess :) Dave & Ihor |
The stretch from Ashnola to Trapper was only 7k and I passed through it in less than 2 min. They were cooking up burgers and I remember saying – do people actually want burgers this early? The volunteer replied that “a guy just came through here and ate three.” Later Dave told me that HE was that guy. I should have known. He has a stomach of steel and ended up eating 10 quesadilla’s at one aid station. He was likely the only person who may have actually gained weight during the race. Oh to have a stomach like his.
The next stretch was published as 15.5K and ended up closer to 20k on my watch. I was pretty dry when I rolled into Calcite and starting to worry about making the next cut off. Luckily the stretch from Calcite to the Pasayten River crossing was about 4k less than expected and I was thrilled to see the river so soon! The crossing was refreshing and I had left a change of shoes on the other side. Putting on fresh socks and shoes was like a reset to my system. Bliss! The AS volunteer told me it was 6k to Bonnevier where Sarah was waiting for me, with “not that much climbing.”
Um. What locals call “not that much climbing” and what I define as such were not the same thing. The race route funneled us onto a rough “road” that had been cleared straight up the mountainside. I later found out that cats had ploughed through in the middle of the night during the fires of 2018 in an attempt to save residential properties at East Gate. I could not believe that any machine could possibly travel up the grades that I was climbing. The fire break went straight up and then straight down over and over, with no consideration for contour lines at all. I tried to remain positive as I could see headlamps bobbing ahead of me looking like they were miles above me and then miles below. I was grateful I could only see a small circle from the light of my headlamp and not what lay ahead. One step at a time. Finally we topped out and then had a super runnable road descent down into Bonnevier. It was nighttime, it was cool, and my legs felt amazing. I started to make my mental list of things to do at the aid station, and noted my body felt just fine. I just needed to load up for a very long and remote stretch to Hope Pass where I would see Sarah next and where she planned to start pacing me. Coffee, broth, Spring Energy, fresh shirt, new hat, light jacket…Sarah shoved a can of gingerale in my hand and I was off.
I left Bonnevier at 12:30am, only 1 hour ahead of cut offs and very near the back of the pack. I have never been that far back before, but I also knew that there was a LOT of race left, I felt good, and the next cut off was much more generous – I had until 6pm to make it to Hope Pass 57km away. Just keep doing what you’re doing.
The coffee and gingerale hit my system quickly, and I started up the climb to Heather Trail. This is where the trouble started. The path was double cambered and very narrow. Not only was it headed up, but it also dropped down to the left, so that my right foot was constantly rolling in with each step. Some places were overgrown and in the dark, my foot kept rolling in unpredictable ways over and over again. I was started to get fatigued enough that my ability to react was slowing. I was still moving well though, and almost stepped on someone sleeping on the trail. That someone said – oh hi Kim! Huh? How do you…? It was Joel, and we proceeded to leap frog for quite a while until at some point I think he took another nap and I plowed on.
It was also in this section that my watch started to go very screwy. I had plugged it in to charge and then it tried to do an auto update in the middle of the wilderness. Obviously that wasn’t happening, and I had to continually restart the track and reboot my watch. I knew my mileage and time was now all off, but was also worried because the race required we have a charged GPS device on us at all times. Eventually I gave up and stashed my watch in my pack. It just wouldn’t stay on and had never acted that weirdly before.
I started to notice that the sound of my left foot hitting the ground was distinctly louder than my right foot, and that I was noticeably limping. I hadn’t really been paying attention to how my ankle felt, so as I neared Heather AS and a soft glow started to warm the sky, I started to check in. Yes, it hurt differently than my left foot, and not in the usual lateral region. There was a gross burning deep in the joint, and sharp catching pains when I jammed it on rocks. These things often just go away over time, and hoped that would be the case this time.
I arrived at Heather AS at 4:30am just as the temperature was dropping before the dawn. I was still in short sleeves with no gloves, but my hands were starting to get cold so I put my jacket and gloves on and accepted some saltine crackers from the shaking hands of an AS volunteer. Their camp was very exposed and cold and I felt such gratitude for the volunteers that endured that cold night to support us! I run warm and didn’t really feel the cold much but as soon as I stopped I realized that it really was chilly! They didn’t have much for food and no electrolytes up there, so I hoped that my supply would hold out until I got to Nicomen Lake.
It is always in that hour just before the dawn that I feel the most tired and thoughts of quitting creep in. I was starting to weave on the trail, moving pretty slowly, getting nauseated, and I wasn’t having fun. The pain started to take over my thoughts, and I couldn’t see how I could possibly keep going.
And then the dawn broke. Experiencing sunrise on Heather Trail when in a mildly altered state of consciousness is quite possibly the most magical thing I have ever experienced. The sky started to glow orange, then pink. The wild flowers were glowing red, blue, purple and white on a bed of lush green foliage. As the sky brightened, I could see that they were dusted in a light layer of frost that almost made them sparkle. The trail here was basically flat compared to the rest of the course, and undulated through the high alpine meadows along trickling streams and always through a wild garden of flowers. I looked up to see the tops of the mountains framed in a pink glow, then down to a scene that seemed right out of Lord of the Rings. It was almost too much to take in. My heart ached with the awareness that I was experiencing something very special, something that only those with the legs to climb to this place through a night would ever see.
I was slowing down, starting to have to pay attention to each and every footstep as I placed my right foot on the rocky trail. I was bouncing between feeling euphoric and hopeless in the same breath and starting to get worried that things were not getting better.
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| Kristian (pacer) & Ihor |
As the day started warming up, and I was starting to mildly hallucinate, I was questioning everything. Is this real? Is this just in my head? I was still moving decently and had managed to gain 3-5 positions in the last segments. Not great, but not losing ground. I tried to just ignore the pain but the sound of my left foot hitting the ground started to get louder and louder as I leaned more and more heavily on my poles. I locked out my right ankle at 90 deg for climbing and vaulted on my poles as the descents got more and more painful. Thank-you poles for not breaking!
Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.
How many times have I said that to others? Just the week before the race, I had gone on a rant about a certain marine and ultra running author who glorifies causing bodily injury to himself to achieve feats of physical endurance. I would be a hypocrite if I did the same. And besides, I really really wanted to run another day. Another 20 year’s worth of days.
"If we want to fold something up, we must first spread it out.
If we want to weaken something, we must first strengthen it.
If we want to get rid of something, we must first encourage it.
If we want to have something, we must first let it go.
Vs 36 Tao Te Ching
I had to wait until I truly didn’t want to quit to let myself make the call. I needed to know that I wasn’t using my ankle as an excuse, but rather a reason. I needed to know that I didn’t secretly want to quit (as we all do at times during these races), and was just manifesting this ankle pain as an excuse to do that. It is true that whatever the mind believes, the body achieves, but also
“…the movements of the body reveal the movements of the soul.” Leon Battista Alberti
Was the limping I was experiencing simply a manifestation of an imbalance in my mind?
I sat on a log just before the descent to Nicomen Lake and pulled down my sock. I could still see my veins (good thing), but there was an unusual strip of swelling directly across my anterior joint line. I poked around. The anterior tib tendon was very tender, but that made sense given the way I was locking out my foot. No one ever died of tendinitis. But then I pointed my foot and my fingers hit the talar dome and I knew. I knew that if I hadn’t had it before, I now had a high ankle sprain and that the strip of swelling was from the joint. I was now risking talar dome cartilage defects and osteochondritis dessicans. Both are usually show stoppers for trail runners. Don’t be an idiot Kim. This is isn’t just in your mind. This is real.
Since my watch had stopped working, I had lost track of time and wasn’t using salt, eating or drinking on schedule. I started to get more and more woozy and could feel my eyes puffing up, although my hands remained ok. Although the trail was still clearly at least a 1000’ up from the riverbed, I started seeing bridges in the trees and was sure I was almost at the Grainger Creek aid station. That 10K section took me 2.5 hours. Knowing what still to come in the race (Skyline!!!) I knew it was over. Even making it to Hope Pass was unwise.
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| Grainger Creek Aid Station |
Ever since I was a child I have been trying to keep up with the boys. It was just my brother and I, and farms with only boys for miles and miles. I could run, jump, climb, push, pull and work as well as any of them. Farm kids are valued for how hard they can work and my grandfather used to remark with pride about how strong I was. “Anything you can do I can do better,” was the mantra of my youth and the origin of my competitive spirit as I attempted to prove myself. Somehow at this race I found myself again the only woman with a crew of men, and I realized that deep down I really really wanted to do well largely because of that. Because I am a woman and not just an ultrarunner. After both losing my job and dropping from the race, I had to yet again let go of my pride and my inferiority complex. I’ve been forced to practice that so much lately that it seems to be getting a little easier.
So I ended the race as the only woman and the only DNF in our group of friends. Any grief I felt about that I had left on the mountain and I was at peace. After a shower, nap and a meal, I paid Ihor a visit to congratulate him and hear his victory story, and then immediately started tracking and cheering my remaining friends left of course.
I am an empath. I absorb energy from others very viscerally. I often feel the negative feelings of others as physical pain which isn’t always convenient (especially for a PT) because I don’t know what’s my pain or theirs. It can be a real curse, especially during a race surrounded by people in pain. I need to be alone to truly know what only I am feeling. But I also feel the joy and happiness of others almost like a narcotic drug, and this is where I used my empathic tendencies for the positive. Without realizing what I was doing, on 2 hours of sleep I found myself up most of Sat night waiting for runners to come in. Sharing in finish line successes was like healing medicine and I soaked it up. There is no better way to cheer yourself up than to celebrate the success of someone else. This is part of why I love crewing so much.
I have to take a moment to acknowledge Sarah. She has been my trail sister for almost 2 decades. We have seemingly been living parallel lives for the past 4 years and we came together this summer to celebrate all that we’ve been through and all that we have become. She has been my biggest fan and constant supporter. I felt so badly that she had come all the way from the island, stayed up all night and didn’t even get the chance to run with me. We had been looking forward to some trail time together for so long. Even though we were both disappointed, she said and did all the right things to make me feel ok. After the race award, we ended up stand-up paddle boarding on the lake instead of running together. While we laid on the beach talking about the weekend, she reminded me that my watch had stopped working precisely when my ankle started to flare. “You were never meant to finish this race. Everything that has happened this summer has propelled you to the next level of growth. I’m so glad I could be here to witness it.” Thank-you my friend. And thank-you for helping me to see that.
“Wouldn’t it be cool if I had a job by the race?”
“You don’t have time to work until Sep.”
Monday, Aug 8
The next day I was scrolling through emails and noticed that I had received a letter of offer at 10:01am on Friday, 1 minute after the race began. I start my new position as Provincial Manager of Healthcare Operations for Vision Loss Rehabilitation Canada on Sep 14.
The answers will appear when you are ready for them.
Ask and then...
Be ready.
