We go over the mountains and under the stars
We go over the mountains and under the stars
Ruben and the Dark, Bow and Arrow
The Start
Go Time
Melissa Budd Canadian Death Race 2016 |
My friend David always jokes about getting a DFL (Dead
F**king Last) someday. He figures it is
just as hard to come in first as it does to come in last. While I question his logic on this one, I
knew it was certainly a position that I never wanted to be in. My perspective changed Death Race Weekend in
Grande Cache.
This was my first time running CDR. For a prairie dweller like me, I had some
reservations about the elevation, but I was confident I could do the distance. My friends, David, Bert and Shane had already
done this race and were very helpful in their advice. Bert had offered to run with me which put my
mind a little more at ease. David’s
friend James and Bert’s girlfriend Rosario would crew for us. Perfect!
The morning was beautiful. Cool temperatures, cloudy but not
ominous. The only electricity apparent
was that of excitement in the air. Bert
and I started conservatively and leg one flew by. We came in faster than I had
anticipated. With a quick change of
shoes, a Coke and a sandwich, we were off for leg 2. Leg 2 consisted of 28 km and 2 mountain
summits and lots of downhill running.
This was my favourite part of the race.
I felt like a kid running down those hills. To add to the fun, there was this beautiful
lab mix dog that would either be running ahead, beside or behind us looking
like he was having more fun than us.
We finished leg 2 in good shape. Now we just had to get through leg 3 before
the 7:00pm cut off. I was happy when we
did with time to spare. The Race Direstor said that
getting to the 7:00 cut off was the key to finishing this race. I picked up my rain jacket, hat, gloves, head
lamp and tied a zip up sweater around my waist.
On to Hamel.
Bert Blackbird, Melissa Budd and ? |
Hamel - Leg 4
The ascent up Hamel
is a grind. Almost 7000m of elevation -
all right away. I’m not a fast climber
but Bert and I kept it steady as we climbed.
Up, up, up- it seemed like it would never end. Bert reassured me we were doing fine and we
would get there if we kept it up. I
remarked how we lucked out with the weather being so great. Almost immediately I realized I spoke too
soon as it started to rain. It got worse
as we continued to climb. The winds
picked up, thunder rattled us and lightning shot across the sky. I stopped to put on my rain jacket but left
the zip up tied around my waist because I wasn’t cold yet. The temperatures seemed to suddenly
drop.
As the rain pounded harder I noticed that it was turning to sleet. It was snowing on the mountain? We reached the emergency drop out station. It was before the cut off but there was no one there to check us in. Bert got worried that they moved the cut off to the top of Hamel. Now we had to be on top by 10:15? Hurry, hurry, hurry! The weather conditions continued to deteriorate. We got to the top by 9:40. By then it was almost white out conditions. The visibility was so poor, I couldn’t tell we were on top of a mountain and could only see people when they were within a few metres of us. We had to get down, as fast as we could.
We passed a girl crying, “sorry, sorry I’m just too cold”. I remember her looking so strong as she passed me on the ascent. My fingers felt like blocks of ice as I wiggled them to keep the feeling in them. Bert and I made our way down. The “easy” downhill was now wet and incredibly slippery with large pond like water filled mud holes every few 100 metres. Quads were going up and down the descent shuttling people off the mountain. They would stop and ask if we wanted a ride and if we were okay. We said we were fine and continued. Our conversation became limited to me saying, “I’m cold Bird” and he would reply back “I’m cold too”. I no longer felt the pressure of time cut offs as I was now concerned with fighting down that mountain without shutting down. I untied my zip up and put that soaking thing around my shoulders. It seemed to help but I wished I had put it on under my rain jacket when it was dry - but that was hours ago.
As the rain pounded harder I noticed that it was turning to sleet. It was snowing on the mountain? We reached the emergency drop out station. It was before the cut off but there was no one there to check us in. Bert got worried that they moved the cut off to the top of Hamel. Now we had to be on top by 10:15? Hurry, hurry, hurry! The weather conditions continued to deteriorate. We got to the top by 9:40. By then it was almost white out conditions. The visibility was so poor, I couldn’t tell we were on top of a mountain and could only see people when they were within a few metres of us. We had to get down, as fast as we could.
We passed a girl crying, “sorry, sorry I’m just too cold”. I remember her looking so strong as she passed me on the ascent. My fingers felt like blocks of ice as I wiggled them to keep the feeling in them. Bert and I made our way down. The “easy” downhill was now wet and incredibly slippery with large pond like water filled mud holes every few 100 metres. Quads were going up and down the descent shuttling people off the mountain. They would stop and ask if we wanted a ride and if we were okay. We said we were fine and continued. Our conversation became limited to me saying, “I’m cold Bird” and he would reply back “I’m cold too”. I no longer felt the pressure of time cut offs as I was now concerned with fighting down that mountain without shutting down. I untied my zip up and put that soaking thing around my shoulders. It seemed to help but I wished I had put it on under my rain jacket when it was dry - but that was hours ago.
More quads came and each time they would ask if they
could take us down - No - and then they would ask how I was doing. At one point Bert stopped me and said, “
don’t talk to them, you don’t sound right, next time let me do the talking,
they are going to pull you from the course”.
I nodded. There was no way I was
going to get pulled now, we had come so far and we were still moving. We were getting down the mountain together
and I took strength in that.
Budster |
Ambler Loop
We were getting close to Ambler loop and it seemed the
worst was over. But then, unexpectedly
as I made my way around the largest of the mud holes my foot slipped and I went
all the way into the water. I was
stunned. Up to my neck in cold mucky
water. Bert said I cried, “no, no, no”
as I went down. Bert and another guy
(which I had no recollection that we were running with) helped me out. It was awful.
I was completely soaked, although I didn’t feel any colder, which was
odd. Moments later we arrived at the aid
station. We timed in and went directly
to the warming tent.
The volunteers were excellent. Lots of blankets, a seat right by the heater, a cup of soup in my shaking hands. I looked around the tent and saw the zombie like faces of many runners trying to warm up. No one was talking. It looked like a war zone. I wasn’t getting much warmer sitting there. I didn’t know where Bert went, but he suddenly appeared and said there were a few trucks that were sitting outside that were warmer. I got up (with help) and got into a truck. Instantly warmer. It felt good. I sat there for a few minutes and then Bert came to the window and said, “this truck is going back, there is another truck that is staying, which one do you want to be in?” Not this one! So we made out way into the other truck.
We both got into the back seat. In the front of the truck in the passenger seat was Mark. We introduced ourselves. He knew of us because, until recently, he lived in Winnipeg. I think he saw what condition I was in and immediately went into help mode. “Are your clothes wet under your jacket? Yes? Strip down to your bra and put this foil blanket around you and let your shirt dry on the seat. Have you eaten? No? Have some gatorade. Do you need gravol? No? Okay, warm up.” I started to warm up. Bert was getting nervous about the time cut offs and my ability to continue. He asked if I was ready to go, I said that I wasn’t ready. I was still frozen. He looked me in the face and said, “okay, I’m going to do the 5 km loop and come back to the truck to see what you want to do”. Okay - Bert was off.
The volunteers were excellent. Lots of blankets, a seat right by the heater, a cup of soup in my shaking hands. I looked around the tent and saw the zombie like faces of many runners trying to warm up. No one was talking. It looked like a war zone. I wasn’t getting much warmer sitting there. I didn’t know where Bert went, but he suddenly appeared and said there were a few trucks that were sitting outside that were warmer. I got up (with help) and got into a truck. Instantly warmer. It felt good. I sat there for a few minutes and then Bert came to the window and said, “this truck is going back, there is another truck that is staying, which one do you want to be in?” Not this one! So we made out way into the other truck.
We both got into the back seat. In the front of the truck in the passenger seat was Mark. We introduced ourselves. He knew of us because, until recently, he lived in Winnipeg. I think he saw what condition I was in and immediately went into help mode. “Are your clothes wet under your jacket? Yes? Strip down to your bra and put this foil blanket around you and let your shirt dry on the seat. Have you eaten? No? Have some gatorade. Do you need gravol? No? Okay, warm up.” I started to warm up. Bert was getting nervous about the time cut offs and my ability to continue. He asked if I was ready to go, I said that I wasn’t ready. I was still frozen. He looked me in the face and said, “okay, I’m going to do the 5 km loop and come back to the truck to see what you want to do”. Okay - Bert was off.
Bert Blackbird, David Fielder, Melissa Budd |
The Plan
Mark and I talked as I warmed up a little more. He asked if I was going to quit. I said, “I don’t want to quit”. He said, “ Well how about you and me go, we
will do the loop and see how that goes”.
I was silent. He said, “well if
you are not going then I’m not going” with a smile. That, for some reason, made that spark that
was still fighting to burn get stronger.
Melissa |
“Okay” I said as I got some more strength back. I put my tank top back on and my shoes. I found a garbage bag in the back seat and
made holes for my head and arms. I put
that on and then put on my rain jacket.
I pulled the solar blanket around my shoulders. Mark was itching to get out and said,
“Now?”. I said, “just give me 5 more
minutes”. I came to regret that later. Nevertheless we got out of the truck. Bert was just finishing his 5km loop. He came up to us and looked. I said, “We are going to go.” He aid, “That’s it Buddster” and something
else about being tough. I told Bert to
tell my crew to hold on….I was on my way.
Bert headed one way to the next aid station and Mark and I headed the
other way to the 5 km loop.
It was great
for the first half of the loop, dryer ground, downhill, legs moving good. I was happy I had made the decision to switch
to the truck that was staying. I was
grateful that Bert and I made it off the mountain and I knew he would
finish. I was lucky that I got into the
truck with Mark, someone who wanted to do this as much as I did, maybe even
more. We were the last two people on the
course….DFL…. That didn’t matter, we
still had a fighting chance and we both
were taking that chance. There is
something to be said about going through hell with company - so much better and
stronger than going at it alone. Mark
assured me that we would get to the aid station before 4:15. Damn cut offs, I felt like I was chasing them
all day! As we came running down Beaver
Dam Road a van pulled up beside me. It
was James and David! I was so happy to
see them! They asked if I needed a ride. I said, “no way!” Then I congratulated David on finishing, to
my surprise he said “no, I chose not to go on after Hamel, I had no dry clothes,
I’m done.” I apologized and immediately
felt bad. David was having such a good
race. David was great and made me feel
good that I was still out there. I
asked,”How far?” About 4 km. Mark was ahead of me, so I kept running as
David and James took off to the next aid station.
Along the ditch road, I was alone. Mark was up ahead and I knew we would be
there soon. All of a sudden some lights
shone at the back of me. A quad came up
behind me and started trailing me. I
thought wow…I’m DFL… what a lucky place to be!
I was hanging on by a thread, but still hanging on! Finally, at 4:06 I reached the almost empty
aid station. Did I make it? Did I make
it? Yes! Yes! Mark had already been there for awhile and
was ready to go. I grabbed my hydration
pack and 2 quesadillas from Rosario. No
time to sit down, no time for soup - less than 2 hours to reach the boat? Time stops for no one and it certainly was
ticking down for me.
Leg 5
Leg 5 started with a steep uphill (of course). Single track, bush covered, up and down in
the dark, hell……is there anything easy past leg 3? Mark pushed us along. I felt bad.
He seemed to have so much energy and I was plugging along. Was I holding him up too much? He offered me caffeine pills- I took
them. He offered me his poles - I took
them. Anything to help move faster. We continued on. Every time I asked him if he thought we were
going to make it, he’d say “Yes - but we have to keep pushing”. Up and down I struggled. Mark was a constant. I was surprised he hadn’t left me. I knew how much he wanted this finish and I
was dead weight. Yet Mark was so
encouraging. I was on the edge of telling
him to go on without me, it was getting light and I would find my way when we
heard a loud crack in the forest. A
bear!
Mark quickly backtracked to me - grabbed the poles and started to clack them. He started to talk loudly and calmly and encouraged me to do the same. The bear took off but then abruptly stopped. We continued on clacking and talking loudly until we were far enough away to feel comfortable. Mark never asked to leave and I never told him to leave - but I could feel us getting close. I asked him for the last time, “do you think we’ll make it?” and for the first time he said, “I’m not sure”. That sealed it for me. I said, “Go Mark, go as fast as you can, run to the boat!” Without a word, he took off like a shot. We were so close. I hoped I hadn’t let him go too late. If I couldn’t make the boat, I wanted him to. I came down the steps to the aid station and saw Mark running back from going the wrong direction down the road. No! But he he was on his way back to the boat. As I was coming down the final hill I heard the engine of the boat and saw it on its way to the other side. Yes!! Mark is on the boat!! Now, would it come back for me?
Mark quickly backtracked to me - grabbed the poles and started to clack them. He started to talk loudly and calmly and encouraged me to do the same. The bear took off but then abruptly stopped. We continued on clacking and talking loudly until we were far enough away to feel comfortable. Mark never asked to leave and I never told him to leave - but I could feel us getting close. I asked him for the last time, “do you think we’ll make it?” and for the first time he said, “I’m not sure”. That sealed it for me. I said, “Go Mark, go as fast as you can, run to the boat!” Without a word, he took off like a shot. We were so close. I hoped I hadn’t let him go too late. If I couldn’t make the boat, I wanted him to. I came down the steps to the aid station and saw Mark running back from going the wrong direction down the road. No! But he he was on his way back to the boat. As I was coming down the final hill I heard the engine of the boat and saw it on its way to the other side. Yes!! Mark is on the boat!! Now, would it come back for me?
The Boat
I made my way down and got there a few minutes after
Mark. I approached the edge of the blue
white Sulphur river and stopped. “You
missed the last boat” someone said. I
stood motionless. I didn’t argue….I
didn’t do anything except lean over Mark’s poles. My head dropped. Tears that I wasn’t strong enough to keep in
came out. I tried not to sob but some of
them came out. Around me, volunteers
started to take down the tent. I didn’t
think to take out my timing chip and insert it so at least I’d have a time for
the distance I completed. I felt
lost. Over — it was over. I was one river crossing and 15 km away from
the finish with almost 2 hours left.
What I wouldn’t give at that moment to be Dead F**king Last. I don’t know how long I stood there until I
got asked if I needed a ride back to town.
Yes…I guess I would. Someone opened
up the back door to a sturdy looking truck and asked if I wouldn’t mind sharing
a seat with a rather large dog. I said
that I didn’t mind as long as he was okay with it. My feelings alternated between feeling numb
and feeling a horrible rawness. I let
out a few more sobs and then the big dog, perhaps understanding more than I
thought he did, put his big head on my lap.
That calmed me.
Town
We made it back to town and found James and
David. We got into the van and sat for
awhile. The clock was still
counting. I saw Bert finish, just after
23 hours. He came over after hugging
Rosario. It was so good to see him
finish but it was so hard. I felt like I
let him down. I kept saying, “I’m sorry
Birdie…I missed the boat” He said he
knew, but he was proud of how I handled myself.
We stayed for awhile but unfortunately missed Mark’s big finish. He finished with 15-20 minutes to spare.
The next morning the awards ceremony was
difficult. I was happy for the finishers
but watching them and watching the video hurt badly. At least I was only tearing up and not truly
crying.
The Cost
As I sit here and write
this I’ve had some time to reflect on the race.
The cost of missing the boat?
Huge! It cost me a finish, my
coin and the feeling of completion. 6
minutes…360 seconds… There were so many
times I squandered minutes. Telling Mark
“5 more minutes” until I got out of the truck…why didn’t I just go? I suppose if I focused on only that, this whole thing would be a failure. But there were so many things I gained. What would it have cost if I had the
perfect race? A race where nothing went
wrong? I would not have met and had the
honour of running with these great people.
It would have cost my experience, my bonds with the people I went
through hell with. It would have been
nice to come out of this with a finisher coin and a forever internet time - but
maybe this will make me come back and try again. It hurts to come up short. It takes time for that hurt to heal. But that doesn’t mean it is over. At least not for me.
With thanks to Melissa Budd, my friend, my inspiration, my awe....
It's a good day to be alive.
Mike