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Or My Squamish 50 Miler Race Report

When you register for a race, what exactly do you expect to get for your money and your time? This is the question that I mulled over for most of the day while recently running the 50 mile event of the Squamish 50. I suppose that most of us simply want the opportunity to run the proposed distance without getting lost and to receive some nutrition and water along the way. But races and race directors vary greatly in their visions of a well-executed event.

At the 50 mile start line with JP. We both look relaxed and confident about the day ahead.

At the 50 mile start line with JP. We both look relaxed and confident about the day ahead.

To me, the ultimate goal of completing the distance is entirely up to me. Over the years, I have learned (the hard way) to be self-sufficient and I generally have very few needs out on the course. I carry my own food, resupply with my drop bag, if provided, and simply require water at aid stations. Towards the end of a race, I browse the food tables and often take a potato or a cup of coke. I know that I am not in the norm here and my approach may be considered to be ‘old school’. These days, ultrarunners have higher expectations for their race entry dollar and expect support more consistent with marathon road running. Many racers rely heavily on race-day support, which now allows them to run without a water bottle or extra gear, and RDs have had to step up to meet those expectations.

The Squamish 50 Races provide everything imaginable for the racers of their four distances (50 mile, 50 km, 23 km and Kid’s Run). There was no aspect of running that wasn’t anticipated and indulged. This made for a smooth event with many happy customers. It is a race for The People. Here are a few examples of the unexpected luxuries that the race committee provided:

multi-event race weekend – Having four separate distances spread over the weekend encourages family and friends to get involved in an event that appeals to them as well as being a spectator. It also allows for the 50/50 event which has racers running 50 miles on Saturday and 50 km on Sunday – a beast of a challenge! The town of Squamish seemed to be involved in the races in some way, making it a strong community event.

tough and challenging – The 50 mile route surely lived up to its reputation as a challenging course. Do not underestimate those 11 000 ft of climbing, much of which falls after mile 35. The last 30 km will spank you if you aren’t careful.

The big climb of the day wasn't so bad. It was the long, long descent that seemed to take a toll on me. Here I am at 53 km, enjoying a cup of soup and changing one sock!

The big climb of the day wasn’t so bad. It was the long, long descent that seemed to take a toll on me. Here I am at 53 km, enjoying a cup of soup, changing one sock, cooling my head with a cold sponge and prepping for possible spanking in the last third.

a showcase of natural beauty – The race route had us twisting and turning through valleys, lakes and mountains, revealing vistas, trails and mountain views in every possible direction with barely any pavement throughout the route.

Look at the views from Quest University (AS #5)! There are beautiful views at every turn.

Look at the views from Quest University (AS #5)! It almost makes me want to be a student again. (Ha!) There are beautiful views at every turn.

technical trails – The trails chosen for this race are stunningly beautiful tracks which are mostly used by the local mountain bikers. The ladder bridges, boardwalks and logs make for exciting running and those steep, rocky, sheering descents will make you into either a kamikaze or a pansy. I definitely fell into the kamikaze camp, hollering out a few primal screams during gnarly plunges. With awesome trail names, like The Panty Line, Angry Midget, Seven Stitches, Mountain of Phlegm, Mid-Life Crisis and Entrails, you know that those trail builders have a great sense of humor and a tendency towards sado-masochism!

Flying down one of the aforementioned trails and trying to keep only two points of contact!

Flying down one of the aforementioned trails and trying to keep only two points of contact! (photo courtesy of Brian McCurdy Photography)

course markings – With flagging ribbon and surveyor flags always in sight, there was never any question about the route. At any given time, you could see 2 or 3 markers! I heard that they abide by a ’20 paces’ rule, making it possible to run without ever studying a course map. (A bit like a lighted runway at times)

Here's the elevation profile according to Strava. The back third was tough! In the pace profile, you can see the two places where I sat down at aid stations.

Here’s the elevation profile according to Strava. The back third was tough! In the pace profile, you can see the two places where I sat down at aid stations. Phew!

remote volunteers – Over and over, I was surprised to find course marshals WAY OUT in the middle of nowhere, sitting in a folding chair, reading a magazine or noting race numbers. Just when you think you are all alone in some remote corner of the forest, a smiling face greets you with some encouraging words and sends you on your way. The obvious upside is that oftentimes you have finally reached a seemingly endless summit and are about to rip it up downhill.

experienced aid station crews -When I arrived at aid station #7 (70 km), I was feeling the cumulative effects of ‘racing’ and the afternoon heat. The aid station crew recognized my deficit at a glance and efficiently dealt with me, encouraging me to finish a full bottle of water, eat some potatoes and take a salt tablet. Taking less than 10 minutes to steer me onwards, they made a world of difference to the remainder of my race. I learned afterwards that they are all experienced runners from a running club – exactly what racers need at that point of a race.

I sat on this cooler and followed AS #7 advice, had a cold sponge bath and headed out, feeling refreshed and ready to attack those last climbs.

I sat on this cooler, followed the wise AS #7 advice, had a cold sponge bath and headed out, feeling refreshed and ready to attack those last climbs.

gluten free options – Aid station food even took to heart the dietary restrictions of some racers

photographers – There were photographers all over the course. I came to realize that seeing someone with a fancy camera did not, in any way, mean that an aid station was close by. These photographers hiked into the most remote and picturesque places to catch our day in digital. I have admired the artistry in previous years’ photos and this year’s installment continues that tradition. (Brian McCurdy Photography)

I was greeted with a hug at the finish line by RD Gary - as he does for every single runner during the weekend.

I was greeted with a hug at the finish line by RD Gary – as he does for every single runner during the weekend.

Gary and I share a moment as I tell him what a fantastic and challenging race he and his committee have created. 90 minutes longer than my STORMY 2011 time!

Gary and I share a moment at the finish line as I tell him what a fantastic and challenging race he and his committee have created. This race took 90 minutes longer than my STORMY 50 mile time in 2009 on the same trail system! (photo credit: Brian McCurdy Photography)

beer garden – Howe Sound Brewing had a beer garden set up at the finish line, serving two styles of beer. It was the icing on the cake and I spent much of Sunday ‘cheering’ racers as they crossed the line.

After finishing the 50/50, JP made a beeline for the finish line beer garden and is seen here enjoying a well-earned Super Jupiter ISA.

After finishing the 50/50, JP made a beeline for the finish line beer garden and is seen here wearing his awesome trucker hat and enjoying a well-earned Super Jupiter Grapefruit ISA.

Overall, my day was a huge success and I am pleased with the outcome. The beauty of Squamish is beyond compare (except, of course, for the Comox Valley!) and the trail system is phenomenal. Personally, I prefer races which provide less in the way of markings, support and supplies, requiring more mental strategy to arrive at the finish line.  I like vague distance estimations and the feeling of uncertainty as I wonder if I am still on course. But I am probably in the minority here. Most racers seem to want a guarantee that the finish line is within their grasp as long as they put in their training miles. They like the idea that race day is only about running, since all other factors will be managed by The Race.

In either case, this event was challenging and therefore satisfying. Despite the difficulty of the course, it would be a great race for someone wanting to try a new distance since every need has been anticipated. It is indeed exactly what The People want!

Finish time – 11:24:52

44/160 finishers; 8/57 women; 2/13 40-49 age group

(OR My San Diego 100 Miler Race Report)

Dear Scotty,

Thank you so much for all the behind-the-scenes and in-front-of-the-crowd work that you do for the San Diego 100. My day was flawless.

Package Pick Up - already getting loaded down with schwag!

Package Pick Up – already getting loaded down with schwag!

Thanks to your pre-race runner emails and the super-informative website, I arrived at the start line feeling ready for the adventure ahead of me. I didn’t feel nervous or jittery but simply ready to place my trust in your volunteers so that I could enjoy the day.

The sun rose just before the 6:00 am start.

The sun rose just before the 6:00 am start.

I'm looking pretty wide-eyed here at the start as B looks relaxed and ready.

I’m looking pretty wide-eyed here at the start as B looks relaxed and ready.

The aid stations were so well-stocked with great nibblies, real food and experienced volunteers. Every time I arrived at one, it felt like a Pit Crew took care of my every need and got me moving on in no time flat. One volunteer let me wipe my sunscreen-burning eyes on her t-shirt. Another found me a towel and clean water so that I could rub the grit and salt off my face. And yet another one ran off to her car to fetch me her personal set of nail clippers when I had a troublesome toenail! The lengths that people went to help me through my day were countless.

Heading out of Paso Piccacho 1 and up towards Stonewall Peak. There are muscles here I never knew about!

Here I am heading out of Paso Picacho 1 and up towards Stonewall Peak. There are muscles here I never knew about!

The course was spectacular. I loved climbing along the PCT, thinking of our friends GnG who are currently thru-hiking, and gazing out across the bleak desert. We simply don’t get vistas like that up here in the North where thick tree canopy obscures most views and we don’t have many deserts to speak of. Despite being a ‘cool race day’, the heat on those exposed ridges tested me. I felt myself wilting as I climbed up towards Todd’s Cabin (40 miles), a combination of the mid-afternoon heat and the 6000 ft elevation both taking their toll on my body.

B flies along open grassland in the early stages of the course.

B flies along open grassland in the early stages of the course. These open sections were hot in the heat of the afternoon.

But, at that point, my suffering ended. Upon leaving Todd’s Cabin, I entered the most beautiful section of the course. From Todd’s Cabin to Red Tail Roost to Meadows and back to Penny Pines 2, I enjoyed every step. Somehow that sweet downhill came as a surprise and I loved flowing through the oaks and pines. I was lucky enough to run down Noble Canyon in the daylight and actually enjoyed the long hike back up in the cool evening air. I loved seeing the headlamps shining across canyons, trying to figure out if those folks were ahead or behind, close or far away. I never did figure it out.

Through the night, I cruised almost effortlessly. Having always been fearful of running through the night, I have steered away from the 100 mile distance. But, here I was, cool, refreshed and strong, picking off numerous runners and their pacers all night long. I awaited moonrise and admired the endless star-scape. And around 4:30 am, just before arriving at Paso Picacho 2 (93 miles), I witnessed the song of early-rising birds who began singing long before the sun hinted in the east. Glorious!

The course markings were perfect. During the day, I never searched for a ribbon and the route felt very straight-forward. Through the night, with far fewer reflective ribbons, there were a few instances where I questioned the way and one place where I pulled out my copy of the turn-by-turn descriptions to double check. But I personally prefer a less-marked course. Route-finding is part of the challenge and it sure kept me both occupied and focused!

I loved how you greeted each runner as they crossed the finish line, handed out their awards and then catered to their needs. Never before has an RD offered me a chair, taken my photo and then brought me recovery drinks! This personal touch was wonderful to receive and even better to watch from the sidelines. It felt like you knew each and every runner – as if you had put on a race for your 270 closest friends. It shows a true dedication on your part to share in the success of each finisher and I am touched to have been counted among them.

Finished! B and I were near each other all day but purposefully ran our own races. Here, we are catching up on trail tales at the finish line.

Finished! B and I were near each other all day but purposefully ran our own races. Here, we are catching up on trail tales at the finish line.

Bruce and I managed to travel to the race with only carry-on baggage, but not so on the return! We had so much schwag between us that we were able to fill a third bag which had to be checked. I have never seen so many goodies handed out at a race! And these goodies are supreme! You truly spoiled us. I love the green theme (tech t-shirt, finisher hoodie, shoe bag and shoulder bag) and we have both affixed our SD and 100.2 stickers to various cars, tool boxes, computers, etc. My third place Open Women award (which is truly gorgeous!) and our two San Diego Solo Division buckles have been proudly added to our ever-growing collection, on display for all to see.

A finisher gets all of this schwag and more. We also got Injinji socks, a show bag, recovery powder, a buff, etc, etc.

A finisher earns one of the buckles, all of this schwag and more. We also got a technical t-shirt, Injinji socks, a shoe bag, some recovery powder, a buff, etc, etc.  We each earned the Solo buckle at the bottom of the picture.

I have already begun singing the praises of your event and will continue to do so. Having never tried the distance before, I came in with humble hopes of finishing. My results on race day astounded me. Although I trained hard (and scared), I think I can credit you and the incredible race organization for my end result.

Thank you for all that you, Jean, the race committee and all the volunteers do for the race. I am so proud to have tried and succeeded.

With gratitude from the depth of my heart and the soles of my feet!


This was my first 100 miler attempt. I finished in 24 hours 42 minutes and placed second in the female Solo Division (no crew; no pacer). I was 4th woman overall and 3rd in the Open Women category.

At this same race, Bruce completed his 22nd 100 mile race, his second SD100 and also earned a Solo Division buckle despite his severe knee injury.


Here are my race stats. Talk about coming from behind!

This week, four months after completing the Tor Des Géants, I participated in a Skype interview with Claudine Bosio, a French filmmaker and psychologist. She is making a film titled Le Pays de Marie which looks into the emotional journey behind a Tor Des Géants finish.

Claudine first approached me at the Rifugio Frassati, only 20 km from the finish line.

Rifugio Frassati is a modern building with all the amenities, nestled just below Col Malatra (photo credit:

It was about 2 am. Bruce was indulging in a short nap and I was warming myself by the fire, enjoying a bowl of broth and a mug of hot tea. We had one final ascent left, up 400 m to Col Malatra, before heading down into Courmayeur. It was peaceful in that gorgeous rifugio as other racers slept or quietly prepared for the long-awaited finish. All was done now.

Inside the rifugio, I sat and warmed myself by this pot-bellied stove and chatted with Claudine (photo

As I sat, I was trying to grasp the concept of finishing this beast of a race. I was trying to think beyond my pain, my exhaustion and my deep fatigue, trying to summon some sense of excitement about being a finisher. My sentiments must have been transparent as she sat down near me, camera rolling, and asked a few leading questions. Long before then, my self-consciousness about my spoken French had disappeared so I contentedly babbled answers. It was like a dam being broken as I expressed some of the thoughts I had kept to myself over the past six days. Apparently, our little interview piqued her interest and she sought me out afterwards and asked to record a follow-up interview for her film.

Before this second interview took place, I had asked to have the questions in advance so that I could wrap my mind around the French vocabulary I would need to have at the ready, but Claudine insisted that would take away from the spontaneity of the interview. As a result, during our interview in French this week, I bumbled my way naively through complex emotional analysis, mis-conjugating verbs, being unable to retrieve simple nouns and wondering if I had even understood what she had asked. After the interview concluded, I caught myself thinking of better phrases or expressions that I wished I had said at the time.

So, with 20/20 hindsight, here is how I wish the interview had gone:

– – –

CB – What has life been like since completing the Tor Des Géants?

MG – Life has simply carried on in its usual way. Since we returned at the beginning of a new school year, it was easy to quickly become immersed in work, with little time to reflect on the race.

CB – Looking back on the Tor, how do you feel about finishing it?

MG – I am proud of my finish and content with way that the race played out but I have not had any of the expected feelings of elation or excitement.

CB – What did you anticipate for the finish?

MG – I had heard stories of friends who were completely changed upon finishing. Those who were drunk with elation. Those who wanted to do the race over and over in order to reconstruct or improve upon that jubilation. But I felt none of that. I had simply done what I set out to do. If anything, I was disappointed that I had to shut down part of my receptive brain in order to finish. I was disappointed to have so many holes in my memory and to have been unable to enjoy it.

CB – At the beginning of the race, what did you anticipate?

MG – I pictured myself drinking in the gorgeous views and appreciating the quaint rifugios and hospitable volunteers. I thought I would be moved by the beauty of the Alps and be able to appreciate it. Instead, I thought along the lines of ‘Oh, that’s The Matterhorn? Let’s go’.  Although I expected to struggle and to hurt, I thought those kinds of obstacles would pass. Instead, I was in extreme pain on most downhill sections and in tears of exhaustion at every Life Base. I did not have the ability to absorb the natural beauty around me. I blocked it all out.

CB – Did you have any specific points of struggle?

MG – I intended to abandon the race at Donnas Life Base. Before arriving there, I knew that I did not want to continue because the course was too difficult, too steep, too long for me. I was beaten.

CB – How did you manage to come out of that low point?

MG – Once in the Life Base, I allowed myself to cry, to break down. But then I began to follow the routine we had established – eat, drink, sleep. Deep down I wanted to finish my first 100 miler so I somehow talked myself into achieving this smaller goal. It was enough to get me back out onto the trail. I was able to outsmart myself. It was trickery and it worked.

CB – How did you get past the 100 mile mark?

MG – As we hiked out of Donnas, I thought on all the friends, family and supporters who had offered encouragement, trained with me and given me confidence. It pained me to think of disappointing them but I knew that these dear people would understand and embrace me again. More than anything, my motivation came from the waitlisted runners, complete strangers. I remembered the disappointment of being on the waitlist for this race. Knowing that there were about 1500 people who would love to be hiking out of Donnas in my place, I felt immense pressure not to squander this opportunity. It felt pathetic to drop out, having already denied someone else the opportunity of this race. The implications of quitting a race are far-reaching and I believe that setting a goal is an intense commitment. Having reminded myself of this belief, I did not consider abandoning again.

CB – What did you do immediately after the race?

MG – Bruce had to complete his medical studies – running on a treadmill and having CT scans – so I sat in a sunny grass patch near the tourist office and waited for him. I thought that maybe I should be waiting at the finish line and watching other runners finish but I had nothing left. I wanted to do nothing. I was like a deflated balloon. I didn’t even take off my shoes or my backpack while I waited for those couple of hours. Nor did I bother to get the gelato that I had been dreaming of for days!

CB – And now, back at home, do you find that the Tor has changed you?

MG – I suppose I feel like I have proven that I can take on any challenge and tough it out, whether it be a challenge in work, running, health, family or whatever. I know that I can persevere through the worst.

CB – How has completing the Tor changed your friendships?

MG – Nothing has really changed. If anything, I try not to mention doing the Tor because it becomes an obstacle. Occasionally, when someone finds out what I have done, they treat me differently. It intimidates. When talking about this experience, I feel like I am being exclusive or elitist – at least that is the feeling I get from others. But I am perhaps the least elite person around. It is really difficult to have such an enormous accomplishment but to be unable to share it aloud and to have others simply write you off as “that crazy runner”. It has created a loneliness.

CB – Would you like to add anything else?

MG – Bruce and I ran every step together although that was not our plan. It reads like a fairy tale romance. He provided me with enormous strength and encouragement and added forty hours onto his previous best time in order to stay with me.  I benefited from his knowledge of the route and his running expertise. Although I took every step myself, I truly wonder if I could have completed the Tor on my own.

CB – Will you go back for another Tor?

MG – It takes a lot of time to train and travel to Italy so I highly doubt it. But it isn’t out of the realm of possibility. I am interested to see if I could do it alone and if I could do it better than this year. I would like to see if I could manage my time and my sleep in a more strategic way. But it is important to recognize how many people want to do this race and how many people were unsuccessful in the registration process. I need to step aside so that someone new can be given this opportunity.

– – –

Of course, this is not how the interview went. For example, I completely blanked on the word for ‘feet’! But these are the questions as I remember them and the answers I wish I had given. I’ll let you know if and when this movie comes out and we can compare the two realities. Ciao!


Ollomont to Courmayeur – 48.8 km (332.3 km total)

(Click here to go to Section #1 of our 332.3 km TDG adventure)

Section #7 - Ollomont to Courmayeur

Section #7 – Ollomont to Courmayeur

“Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

One thing that struck me during the next climb, up to Col Champillon, was a comment that Bruce had made several days earlier in section #2. He had said that he admired the way that the Italian people embraced the outdoors. When we arrived at the rifugio nestled just below the Champillon pass around lunch time, we found it packed to the rafters with families who were out for a day hike. The Italian people, both young and old, adore their mountains and spend their spare time exploring them, enjoying the beauty of their country. As they watched us refuel before heading up the trail, their comments were only supportive and encouraging. There was no sentiment of “You are crazy” or “I could never do that” among these folks; none of the sentiments of disbelief that usually greet us at home. Instead they were proud that their mountains were being scaled by an international crowd. I was suddenly aware at the relief I felt at not having to justify my love of the mountains. Here, this pursuit was normal.

As we began to descend, my knee felt great for the first few switchbacks. But, all of a sudden, the knife pain to which I had become accustomed was now on the other side of my patella. The fancy blue taping that had been applied in Ollomont was overcorrecting my knee and causing new and more excruciating pain on the outside of my kneecap. I stopped a few switchbacks later and ripped off all the blue tape, balled it up and stuffed it up my pant leg. The pain was still extreme, bringing tears to my eyes. At one point, I told Bruce that these tears were not to garner sympathy. These tears were because my pain was at 9 out of 10.

After the long, steep descent and huge, rocky steps eased, we dropped down to a rifugio and could finally see the dual accordions that we had been hearing during the descent. As well as the regular aid station grub and delightful tunes, they had an enormous cauldron of polenta cooking over a fire and, when we showed interest in their traditional foods and cooking methods, they offered us some grilled, salted meat that was perhaps the most delicious food of the whole course.

Using the offical polenta paddle, bruce stirs up a tasty brew - and earns us the tastiest morsel of meat we have ever savoured!

Using the offical polenta paddle, Bruce stirs up a tasty brew – and earns us the tastiest morsel of meat we have ever savoured!

After that rifugio, we travelled down a gentle dual track that reminded me of a cross-country ski trail. With the big steps behind us, I was able to shuffle along the downhills most of the way to St Rhemy En Bosses. As we rounded the corner to the aid station, the entire town seemed to be out, ringing cowbells and calling out. Bruce played it up and encouraged them to make more noise which they readily did.

Everyone in Saint Rhemy En Bosses came out to welcome us into town!

Everyone in Saint Rhemy En Bosses came out to welcome us into town!

We made our way to the seating area and dove into plates of pasta. One English-speaking volunteer sat with us and told us all about his honeymoon in Canada. He had travelled across the whole country, including Baffin Island, and obviously had fond memories of it. He was eager to practice his English and share Canadian place names and memories as well as information about his town and his involvement in the TDG.

While we were eating, a news team from the National TV station had arrived at the aid station and were giving a live feed about the TDG. All of a sudden, Bruce and I were being shuffled out of the food tent and onto the street where we were briefly interviewed about the race. In our combined broken French, we managed to communicate that we were celebrating our 20th wedding anniversary at the TDG and, with that, the newscaster signed off for the night. It was apparently a big deal for the small town of St Rhemy En Bosses (pop’n >400) to get featured on the national news so we were instant stars back inside the food tent.

(Here is a link to the RAI TV video clip. The race is featured from minute 9:25 to 19:20. Our snippet is at 18:50)

We grabbed two cots in the main building for a two-hour snooze before the final ascent of the course. We were woken by the arrival of a large group of runners and their noisy supporters. Suddenly, the rifugio was filling up so we grabbed our packs and headed out. We figured that this big group of runners were trying to stay ahead of the cut-off times and we were about two hours ahead of them. Our cut-off time cushion was becoming a little tight. We headed out into the darkness at 11:00pm

We continued travelling along a city road and were almost run down by a familiar mini-van of crew, speeding along the otherwise empty streets. The road became gravel and we chattered away as we hiked. Suddenly Bruce stopped and asked when I had seen the last trail flag since it has been a while since he noticed one. For the first time in the race, we had gone off course. After some discussion, we turned around and headed back down the road for about 10 minutes before we found our missed turn. At that point, the markers had been placed on both sides of the gravel road, making the sharp right turn less noticeable.

Back on course, we wound our way gently up the hill-side. This was not a difficult climb. We skirted back and forth across a river and climbed up through cow pastures for hours. We seemed to leap-frog a gravel access road as it switchbacked up the slope. Finally we arrived at rifugio Frassati around 1:30 am. It was an absolute haven – sleepy, warm and peaceful. There were many empty tables and a roaring wood-burning stove in the center of the room. Runners were quietly eating, rummaging through their packs or heading up to the sleeping loft. We took over a table and Bruce instantly lay down to grab a 30 minute nap. I had soup and tea and briefly chatted with an Italian woman who was making a film about the race.

Having a quick nap at Rifugio Frassati before our final mountain pass.

Having a quick nap at Rifugio Frassati before our final mountain pass.

Feeling refreshed, we bundled ourselves up in most of our gear and headed out of the rifugio, ready to climb those final 400 m to Col Malatra. As we left the building, we both stared, disbelieving, at a mountain biker who was heading out on the same trail as us. Who mountain bikes at 3:00am? On trails like these?

The climb up to Col Malatra was only steep at the very end and, in the complete dark, it didn’t seem very treacherous. Suddenly, there were metal steps in the rock face and a rope leading up. A few steps later, we were at the pass. Two volunteers were there to guide us up the rock face, through the magnificent rock cleft and down to the other side of the narrowing. With wind whipping the dust up into the air, we stopped for a brief kiss and headed down. It was about 4:30 am.

Upon reaching the metal steps of Col Malatra, a volunteer's hand appeared to help me up to the rock cleft.

Upon reaching the metal steps of Col Malatra, a volunteer’s hand appeared to help me up to the rock cleft.

Once again, the downhill was difficult but at least this was the last downhill. As was the usual case, the initial steepness of the descent quickly eased and the slope became more runnable (for those without intense knee pain!).  Bruce insisted that I lead the way so we went at my excruciatingly slow pace and he became very cold. At one point, I sat down to get a nutrition bar out of my bag, lay back and looked up at the thousands of stars. It was another spectacular, crystal clear night but Bruce’s chattering teeth were rattling in my ear so we moved along. Rifugio Bonati came into view seconds later and we headed in to warm up. Our stay was relatively brief, just long enough to have some tea and a 15 minute snooze. Being a fully-booked rifugio with paying guests, we runners were kept in a fenced-off section of the main dining area. The rifugio staff were beginning to prepare breakfast for the waking guests as we left.

As we headed out, the sky had lightened enough to forgo the headlamps although sunrise was still a few hours away. The route from Bonatti to Bertone was wonderful. Not only was the trail forgiving underfoot and undulating as it traversed the side of the mountain, we were treated to the most spectacular sunrise I have ever witnessed. The first rays of sun illuminated the top of Monte Bianco with an unearthly pink, immediately making me feel warmer.

First photo of the unbelievable Alpenglow on Monte Bianco at about 6:40 am

First photo of the unbelievable Alpenglow on Monte Bianco at about 6:40 am

For the next hour, we watched the glow on the mountain increase and become evermore radiant. It would have been easy to sit back and watch this display, and perhaps we would have at any other point in the race, but with the finish line truly in our grasp, we pressed on.

It just got more and more beautiful as we got closer.

It just got more and more beautiful as we got closer.

Rifugio Bertone was a mere formality. Bruce and I had hiked up to this spot in the week before the race so I knew what to expect from here on in. It wasn’t easy by any stretch – nature’s version of a rock staircase for a little less than an hour – but there were friendly, early morning hikers the whole way who encouraged us along. Passing familiar landmarks, like the road crossing and the bridge, were thrilling. As our feet finally struck the pavement at the edge of town, we burst into a run and prepared ourselves to soak in the long-awaited moment.

Finishing the Tor Des Geants together.

Finishing the Tor Des Geants together.

Captured from the live feed of the finish line (thanks Steve and Wade), the finish line kiss makes it official.

Captured from the live feed of the finish line (thanks Steve and Wade), the finish line kiss makes it official.

Another finisher photo.

Another finisher photo.

Finishing at 9:30 am has its perks. The streets were lined with people and, as we neared the town center, people began shouting “Canada!” and friends were calling our names. We crossed the finish ramp hand-in-hand, kissed and were treated to a brief interview with the race announcer before leaving the finishers area.

143 hours 26 minutes and 25 seconds is an incredibly long time. It was much longer than I had imagined but it still fits within my goal of 1)finishing and 2)staying ahead of the cut-offs. Funnily enough, this time still garnered me 9/18 in the old ladies category! 337 out of 440 total finishers (720 starters!) and 32/44 women.

I am forever grateful to my dear husband, Bruce, for sticking by my side throughout the race and providing me with endless encouragement and insider information. When I chose TDG as an epic way to celebrate our epic marriage, I never imagined that we would run together. In fact, I was quite insistent throughout our training that we would run our own races. But there we were, hand-in-hand at the finish. Constantly I am reminded that Bruce is a treasure to behold. I have truly been fortunate to be the beholder. A lifetime ago, when I chose him and he chose me, it was the smartest thing either of us ever did. And we continue to live happily ever after.

Every couple married for 20 years should invest in matching jackets.

Every couple married for 20 years should invest in matching jackets.

Section 7  – 48.8 km in 21h 38m

Cummulative Total – 332.3 km in 143h 26m

Total Life Base/Rifugio Down Time = 30h

Total sleep = 16h 15m

(Click here to go to my packing lists , my initial impressions of finishing , or another post-race recap)

The Happy Wanderer

My Paths on Strava

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