Mooove! Lean Horse 100, 2014 Race Report, Part 2 ( a guest blog by Melissa Budd)

The Lean Horse 100 Mile Ultra-marathon is not for the faint of heart.  Part 2 of Melissa's story has us travelling over gorgeous hills and through ancient tunnels. We meet Laura and Jen, two "lovely ladies" who lightened and brightened Melissa's day.  We jostle with demented cattle beast and shoo angry dogs.  The rain may chill Melissa's core but it also strengthens her resolve. Don, you will learn, is one tough character, and he gives thanks for every step.  We hear Melissa's lone "whoo-hoo" reverb through the dark tunnel and we can smell the musty earth as she plods forward.  And David, kind soul that he is, continues to support his dear friend at every turn.  Read on.

It's a good day to be alive.

Mike

Soon the time I was waiting for happened.  We started after a countdown and ran ¾ of the way around the track and then off to the Mickelson Trail.  The rain had stopped and I settled into a pace with Brittney and a woman named Ann.  They were both wonderful to talk to and I enjoyed the first part of the trail with them.  As we comfortably ran along we accumulated a few more people.  

Conversation flowed easily and before I knew it we were at the first aid station Mountain.  Mountain was a 5 mile uphill, so that meant on the way back it would be a 5 mile downhill – great!  I briefly saw David -  he filled my water bottle and I grabbed some watermelon to eat (because it looked so good).   In and out in 2 minutes – just like a race car at a pit stop! 

The next 5 miles was downhill.  I was nervously telling people around me “on the way back this is going to be the hardest part – mile 90-95 uphill”.  I was thinking about it so much that I wasn’t enjoying the downhill.  I did meet two lovely ladies running the 50m mile though – Laura and Jen.  Both are teachers and have that sarcastic wit that I love.  They made the miles fly by.  We joked, laughed and shared.  I wished that they lived closer because I think they would make the best running buddies!  We continued another 5 miles downhill.  That is when I made the realization that miles 85-95 would be a long climb and it would be necessary to dig deep.  As we ran along, I also made the realization that I couldn’t worry about what would happen that far down the road.  It made me think of my children (oddly enough).  I thought, if I spent their whole childhood worried about how hard the teen years would be and how hard it would be when they left – I would miss out on a lot of the good things that were going on in the present.  I made a decision to not think about that 10 mile uphill until I got to it.  I needed to enjoy and immerse myself in the present and not worry about the future.  Perhaps that last 10-15 miles would be like last year – where I made up time and ran strong.  I knew it could be a possibility.  After I got over my worrying – running seemed to flow.

The next aid stations quickly went by Orville, Hill City, High Country and then Horse Creek.  Horse Creek was mile 24.8.  It was almost a quarter of the way and I was feeling good.  I was eating at most aid stations –quarter sandwiches (PB and J or Turkey) chips, fruit and Gatorade.  David met me at every aid station with a cold can of Coke (what an angel!).  Horse Creek was where I had to say “good bye” to Laura and Jen.  I gave them a hug, took their picture and wished them well.  I knew they were in a good position for their 50 mile finish.  They finished 3^rd and 4^th  overall women.   At Horse Creek I picked up my second hand held water bottle because the day was getting warmer and I was draining my one water bottle well before the next aid station.

 I also had the privilege of running with Don.  Don was amazing in the fact that he had been through some massive heart issues and he was still running ultra-marathons.  He said he was lucky his cardiologist was an ultra-marathon runner himself.  Don talked about his wife finding him looking like he was dead a few times when his medication wasn’t quite right.  He had to be very careful about dosage.  I asked him if that scared him.  He replied that it didn’t scare him.  I asked Don where he got his courage from.  He told me that going through experiences like these, made him value the quality of life.  He may be better off doing more moderate distances – but this is what he loves to do.  He also cited his faith as being a source of his courage. 

After Horse Creek I was on my own.  I saw David at every aid station –  he was wonderful at taking care of whatever I needed.  He went above and beyond.  Even though he hadn’t been training, he would drive to the aid station, park, and then run out to meet me.  It was nice because when I saw him, I knew that in the next 10 or so minutes I could refuel.  It was also wonderful to have company (as I was now running alone).   

The terrain from Horse Creek to Mystic was phenomenal.  There was a large mountain stream that winded along the trail.  I passed ponds, fields and even an old time gold panner.  At one point I watched as two horses powerfully galloped in unison on a field beside me.  I was taken by their beauty and strength.  They were truly the epitome of Lean Horse 100.  And then, just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, I got to run through two old railway tunnels.  I don’t know what the past railroad/wild west would have smelled like – but I smelled it.  I don’t think I could explain it to you if I tried.  Coal, iron, mist, granite, earth – it was an incredible smell.  Running through the tunnels I gave a little “whoo hoo” just because I love to hear an echo.    The towering granite that the workers would have had to blast through when building this railway came to mind as I ran through.  I was also treated to lovely waterfalls and their sounds.  I was happy that I chose not to listen to my music.  I was fully immersed in the environment I was in and was loving every minute.  It certainly helped that I felt so strong.  I can honestly say that I was no more fatigued that I would have been had I done a 6 mile run.  The scenery was THAT intoxicating.

After running through the beauty of Mystic, I got to Mystic Aid station (close to 30 miles).  I was feeling good and was leap-frogging several other runners (so I didn’t feel totally alone).  David told me I was doing well and was probably third or fourth woman.  Placement didn’t really matter to me at that point because I still needed to run most of the race and I was truly just enjoying my only responsibility that day of putting one foot in front of the other. 

MOOve!

Leaving Mystic, there was a short jaunt to Gimlet Creek.  The beauty of the trail hadn’t stopped and neither my enjoyment of it.  I passed through yet another old railway tunnel and an old mining camp.  Close to Gimlet Creek I came upon 4 cows blocking the trail.  They stopped me in my tracks.  There wasn’t really a way to go around them and they were just standing there like a bunch of bullies – not wanting me to pass (at least they appeared like that from my perspective).  They were eyeing me up.  I turned around to look if there was anyone behind me that could help out.  There was a woman but she looked to be between ½ and a ¼ mile behind.  I didn’t want to wait so I knew I’d have to do something.  Of course I told them to “MOOOOO-ve” .  They just stood there staring at me.  I didn’t think cows charged, but what if they did?  I inched closer and told them to “MOOOO-ve” again.  They stood there for another (endless ) minute.  Finally, without warning, two of them took off and the other ones moved off the trail.  I continued and was thankful that they weren’t “real” wildlife – apparently I’m not too comfortable with non-human animals.

David saved my butt again as I came into Gimlet Aid station.  He ran out for ½ mile and as I saw him I was close to a house along the trail with 2 large dogs.  When they heard me, they started running at me growling and barking.  Like I said, I’m not great with non-human animals (unless they are small and friendly).  David projected his voice and told them to “go away”.  They did – and I was happy.  We ran into the next aid station.    My shirt was entirely wet as the temperature had gotten a little warmer.  I was also a little salty.  I took this opportunity to put on a clean DRY shirt (which made me feel so much better).   My legs were feeling great.  Not a lot of fatigue and my mood was excellent.  

The only issue was that my left trapezoid muscle (in my back) was feeling tight and my chest muscles were feeling tender.  Why?  Apparently training without hand-held bottles was not a smart move for me.  Even though they only weigh a little – the repetitive motion of carrying them in your hands works those muscles that I hadn’t trained.  Oh well, not much I could do now.  David thought to ask the aid station workers if they had any muscle pain relief (A5-35) – surprisingly they did.  David rubbed some on the tight spot on my back.  I could feel the heat penetrate my muscle.  While it didn’t take away the pain, the muscle felt a little less tight.  Off to Rochford!

Running to Rochford, the weather took a turn and it started to rain a bit.  The scenery was still incredible.  However  I didn’t have a raincoat with me –  I knew there was one in the car.  I would get one from David in Rochford.  Mile 37.4 aid station… but where was David?  I really needed that rain jacket!!  I wasn’t sure where he was, but I knew I couldn’t wait around.  I grabbed some food and mashed it into my mouth.  Not sure why, but I took a PB and J, put some chips in the middle of it and it tasted good.  The volunteers filled my water bottles and I was ready to go.  But I really was cold at that point.  I wondered what to do.  Then I had an idea, I asked if they had a garbage bag (which they did) and I tore a hole for my head and two for my arms.  Voila!  My rain jacket!  I asked the aid station volunteers that if they saw a bald guy in an orange car – tell him I already left.  They said “Will do! “  and I was off to Nahant – 6 miles away.

The garbage bag worked well.  It trapped heat as I ran along and I was soon almost a little too warm.  No problem – it was easy to tear some vents.  Except for my shoulder – I was doing incredibly well.  This was the most pain free ultramarathon I had ever run!  The 6 miles from Rochford to Nahant was still pretty but uphill, I passed through the 4^th (and last) railway tunnel.  The trail opened up to a valley before Nahant.  Thankfully David was at Nahant when I got there.  Apparently he had gotten lost and I beat him to Rochford.  I was grateful to get my rain poncho out of the car and for some more A5-35 for my shoulder.  It would be another 6 miles until DMTM (Deadwood Mickleson Trail Marathon Aid station) and another uphill climb.

Stay tuned for part 3.

It's a good day to be alive,

Mike

"Running Is Not Something I Do", Lean Horse 2014, Race Report, Part 1

This is part one of Melissa's Lean Horse 2014 race report.  Melissa asked me to help edit her story, to reduce the length.  After a breathless first read and tearing up on the last several paragraphs. I advised her to just leave it be and let the words sing. They may be a little off key in places and raw in others but my-oh-my, that girl sure can hit the high notes! Her story soars. Part 2, 3, and 4 will be published on SMR over the next several days. Enjoy.

"Running is not something I do, it's more like something I am."
Melissa Budd

The weather forecast called for cold and rain.  At 18 C, humid and windy, this hardly seemed like the Lean Horse 100 I had known for the past 5 years.  Usually the daily high was between 30-35C and dry as a bone.  I suppose this was fitting as the Lean Horse 100 2014 was almost an entirely new course.    I was ready for an adventure!

As a teacher I’ve always treasured my summers, no marking, no lunch making and scheduling is minimal.   One of the things I most look forward to is  training for Lean Horse 100.  Running to me is not something I do – it’s more like something I am.  It is as much a part of my day as anything else, sleeping, eating, relationships….  At times, it is my comfort, my burden, my sanity.  I love the Paul Maurer quote below (The Gift - A Runner's Story) as it summarizes the rawness of running….

Running isn't a sport for pretty boys...It's about the sweat in your hair and the blisters on your feet. It’s the frozen spit on your chin and the nausea in your gut. It's about throbbing calves and cramps at midnight that are strong enough to wake the dead. It's about getting out the door and running when the rest of the world is only dreaming about having the passion that you need to live each and every day with. It's about being on a lonely road and running like a champion even when there's not a single soul in sight to cheer you on. Running is all about having the desire to train and persevere until every fiber in your legs, mind, and heart is turned to steel. And when you've finally forged hard enough, you will have become the best runner you can be. And that's all that you can ask for.        

"The best runner I can be" is not about PBs, PRs, or BQs. Don't get me wrong, I still run hard, give it my all on the hills, I push beyond what I think I can do. I love seeing how far I can go and feel grood when I improve my time. What makes me feel best however, is when I handle the stresses of running better than I did last time. I also love the feeling of losing myself in the run.

This summer I set out to train for Lean Horse.  I was excited about the new course and was looking forward to training with my running partner David.  David is one of the only people I know that doesn’t blink an eyelash when I ask him if he wants to go on a 40 mile training run on Saturday.  One of his best qualities is that he is always ready for an adventure.  

Unfortunately David, AKA my ultra-training partner, broke his collarbone at the beginning of July as he was making the transition to triathlons.  I suppose I could have been more supportive and not said to him, “serves you right….running is an angry mistress and will not put up with your cycling” but I’m a work in progress.   To David’s credit, he laughed and understood my disappointment.  He impressed me with how he maintained such a positive attitude while he was healing that I couldn’t help but to be inspired.  I know I would not have been so gracious and light of heart had it been me.

Without said training partner, I began to ramp up my mileage and quickly got to running 100 mile weeks.  I would run 8-15 miles 6 days a week (usually starting around 5am) and then one long run on the seventh day of 35-40 miles.  I did hills once or twice a week in the mornings with my great training partner Christine (who was battling with planters fasciitis  and ran way more miles with me than she intended to – but did it because she knew I was hurting for people to run with).  Scott Burton, one of the most well trained ultra-runners I know was wonderful with filling in many miles on those long runs that are so hard to do alone.  He, along with Tim Du kept me company and kept me laughing.  I also had a few special events to break up the regular training.  Scott organized the annual Slurpee run that David and I had done in the past, to include lots of people and 35 miles of fun and sugar.  I also did a few triathlons to switch it up a bit and found out I like swimming and am a pitiful cyclist!

By mid-August I was feeling strong, partially due to the fact that Christine kept telling me how strong I was (tell someone something often enough and they will start to believe it) and was anxious to get to South Dakota!

The ride down was great.  David graciously offered to drive down with me and be my crew. He wasn’t sure if he could pace me, but having someone on the course at every station, attending to all my running need was going to be a luxury I had never experienced.  I was sad for him that he wouldn’t be able to run but grateful for the company and the future help he would be giving me.

The pre-race meeting on Friday was filled with anticipation.  It was somewhat like a family reunion. This was my 6^th year at Lean Horse, and seeing familiar faces is always a comfort.  I was excited to see Mike, Loren and Al (Mike and Loren were running the 50 mile and Al was running the 100 mile on a relay team).  The race director, Royce, told us about the new course, how beautiful it was and how excited he was to have us finally here.  He warned us of the longer climbs, the elevation change of 6000ft and the altitude (although South Dakota is over 5000ft above sea level, I’ve never had a problem with the altitude).   He also warned us not to “poop” directly on the trail (move off and cover with dirt), I guess there has been some issues with this in the past.  I wasn’t too worried about this request as I am not a “trail-pooper” and prefer solitude and cover when engaging in that activity.

The weather was cool, cloudy and very windy with a prediction of more cool weather in the morning and rain.  After Loren, Mike, Al, David and I had a quick supper at Subway (as a bonus, we had the privilege of  dining with Jeremy – who eventually won the race) – David and I retired to our rooms for a good night sleep.   In retrospect, I should have switched rooms with David.  His was at the back – very quiet and dark and on the inside.  My room was an outer room and I had trouble falling asleep due to anticipation and the sound of the relentless rain that gave me dreams of painful chafing and miserable cold.

Morning came quickly (although it was quick only AFTER I fell asleep – the time between when I got in bed and fell asleep seemed endless).  I got dressed, made sure I had everything I needed, had a bagel, a banana and a Coke, slipped on my rain jacket and by 5:20 am I was ready to go.  I was a little miffed when I heard  about what a good quiet sleep David had – but that didn’t last for long when I thought of how much help he was going to give me and that driving requires  more alertness than running.

We met at the Custer track.  Large lights illuminated the area and over 100 people were milling around nervously talking and laughing.  I met Brittney – a runner from Winnipeg who was doing her first 100.  Amazing that a young lady (early twenties) was attempting such a feat.  I asked her what her friends thought – she said most of them were impressed but thought she was crazy!  She told me her longest run was 45 or 50 miles….I felt a little inadequate and told her not to tell me such things!!  I was anxious to see my friends Peter and Yen – I knew they were signed up – but I didn’t see them at the prerace meeting.  Peter is from Texas and has a distinct southern drawl.  I heard him before I saw him (so I thought).  I walked quickly toward him and gave him a big hug.  I asked him how he was and said that David wasn’t running this year because of his accident.  He was smiling and nodding.  I called David over.  When David came over, he looked really confused.  I looked at who I thought was Peter, who was still smiling, and then made the realization that it wasn’t Peter.  Awkward!  “Peter” introduced himself as Bob.  He was incredibly gracious and said when a pretty lady comes over and gives him a hug – there is no way he would correct her. 

Silent Morning

Silent morning.
Holy morning.
All is calm.
All is bright.

I run early mornings when all is calm and all is bright. Time and space collide in blissful perfection as my bones move in cadence with heart and lungs. Heart and lungs and old bones dance gracefully, slowly, on dark Wolseley streets. My mind is calm, my thoughts are bright. 

I walk over the footbridge because it just so damn beautiful. Time slows as I scan 360  degrees and up and down. The stars above shine brightly, calmly, and offer hope for peace. The dark, jagged ice way below is foreboding. The long shadows of frazzle ice scare me and yet draw me in like a child peeking at a horror movie for the first time. Good and evil personified. The contrast of hope and fear, brightness and darkness,  jaggedness and calmness, is intoxicating. I am humbled in this moment, this paradox of life. I am, for a moment, at peace, yet fearful of what could be.

I search for words to anchor this time, to hold it as though time were a tangible commodity. I know this moment will fade, it always fades. We try to hold these moments of time, to tuck them in our back pockets for consumption at a later time, but they fade. We are left only with memories of time, memories of that beauty, that moment, that perfection. Mercifully, the memories sustain us. Thank be to to all of you for these memories. 

All is calm, all is bright on this Winter Solstice morning.

Aboriginal tradition teach us the path to peace. We must share our greetings, our names, our food, and then we must share our stories. We have much to learn from Aboriginal tradition and much to share.

Greetings and welcome. 
My name is Mike. 
This blog is my story. 

I wish you happiness. 
I wish you peace. 
I wish you calm. 
I wish you bright. 
I wish you silent mornings and silent nights. 

Long may you run.

It's a good day to be alive.

Mike

A note on the photographs. I sent this blog post to Greg McNeill asking if he had any stock pictures that would be suitable to accompany the storyline. He replied by suggesting a photo shoot to customize the pictures to the story. We met this morning a little after 7:00 AM. These are some of his pictures. Feeling kinda Hollywood-super-star-like! Thanks Greg, you are too cool for words.  Uncle Mike

Tuscon Marathon; A Guest Blog by Bridget Robinson

Bridget Robinson is an exemplary citizen. As race director of the amazing Point Douglas Run she promotes positive lifestyle opportunities for women living in poverty.  Her dedication towards this goal is spectacularly inspiring and brilliantly contagious. She fights a good fight and makes a positive difference in our community. Today, as Guest Blogger on SMR, Bridget shares her adventures of completing the Tucson Marathon. Long may we run Bridget, long may we run.

It's a good day to be alive,  

Mike
  

The full moon, the prickly pear and lucky number 13.

Phoenix in December couldn't be more different than the snowy, cold Winnipeg. The warmth embraced me and my first sight of a saguaro cactus with it's outreached, friendly, albeit prickly arms made me smile. I drove to the Superstition mountains, drawn there by the intriguing name and having several hours to hike before meeting my friend Lisa at the airport. She was flying in from London and we were running the Tuscon marathon. I hiked up the Peralta trail and although my hamstrings hurt afterwards, the views and close ups of the desert flora made every step worth it. I was surprised to see holly and a small waterfall that trickled down a black path it had carved in the red rock. The hillside was sprinkled with various pink, purple, orange and yellow flowers. The trail wasn't busy and when I passed a couple, they mentioned that I was as quiet as a deer and very hardcore for hiking in Converse All*stars. The view of the mountains and Weaver's Needle from the Freemont Saddle was incredible. On the faster trip downhill I marveled at the contrast between the lime green lichen, red rock and blue-grey shrubs. I saw a tiny fern with perfect minute deep green-leaflets that made my heart swell.

Bridget, such a fine ladybug. 

Lisa and I drove to the Hilton El Conquistador hotel and arrived after midnight. It was the official marathon hotel and on Saturday morning we enjoyed scouting out the small but interesting expo in the hotel ballroom. A Californian company had running dresses and bolero's in funky sixties psychedelic patterns and colours. I bought some natural prickly pear energy bars, the thought of being energized by the fruit of the desert while running through it was very appealing.

Later that evening we took a short drive to Catalina State Park and walked along a sandy river trail admiring the many different "family" groupings of Saguaros. Our waitress at breakfast had joked about "tree huggers" in Arizona not being able to hug their trees and I got a photo of Lisa pretending to hug a huge cactus. We gingerly balanced on precarious river rocks crossing a stream in an otherwise largely dry riverbed. The bright yellow autumn leaves were splashes of colour against the sand and the various red, greens and browns of the mountainside. Just when we thought it was impossible to be any more beautiful the sun began to set and and illuminated the red rock mountains. The colour in the whispy clouds deepened from a blush pink to a deep red and the full moon brightened; a witness to and a participant in the grandeur. The light and beauty was uplifting and energizing, it was impossible to believe anything but that all was right with the world.

We woke at 4:00 am on Sunday morning to prepare for the marathon. I felt strangely lethargic and achey, but was quickly cured by a large dark roast coffee. We drove to the start in the dark in a school bus, our common passion for running ignited a camaraderie between strangers. People shared stories of their many running adventures and different running clubs including "50 States", "Globe Trotters", "Marathon Maniacs" and "Fat Ass". The start was on a remote mountain top and as the full moon faded, dawn gently revealed the desert beauty around us. We chatted to a young first time marathoner from the mile-high city hoping to qualify for Boston. It was cool at the start and for the first several miles I ran by lonely, empty gloves that had been discarded as the sun climbed the brilliant blue sky. The course began with rolling hills followed by a gentle decline until a hilly out and back section along the Biosphere road. At mile four my calf protested having been hurt a couple of weeks earlier on an icy Winnipeg run. For a split second I considered stopping to avoid injuring it further, but remembered what my friend Kim had said about being able to do it and fortunately decided to soldier on. At one difficult point, as if he knew I needed encouragement a friendly man turned from his companions and told me I was doing great. I normally run with a well stocked fuel belt with pain killers, energy products and endurolytes but had decided on a more minimalist approach for this run and was mainly relying on the aid stations for sustenance. I was dressed  in a green sparkly skirt over compression tights with rainbow striped calf sleeves and silver wings on my shoes. Lisa, always more flamboyant, sported an elaborate bright pink flamingo hat, the flamingo in turn wore yellow slip slops and had a lei around it's neck. I had managed to squeeze two prickly pear bars into a minute pocket in the compression tights. Having no other pocket space I had stuffed some emergency toilet paper into my sports bra knowing that the porta potties en route often ran out. The toilet paper later disintegrated into a sweaty mess.

Although the gradual downhill was conducive to opening up and cruising, I nursed my calf putting into practice what Kim had taught me about the chi style of lifting ankles as opposed to pushing off on the balls of your feet. It hurt but I was determined to finish. Gradually I noticed the friendly man running towards me as if he'd materialized from a mirage. He laughed and said "cat's out of the bag, I'm part of a relay team, you're doing great, you're ahead of them", once again I was encouraged by his kind words. At mile 10 I rewarded myself with a prickly pear bar and savored the taste while running by the multitude of live prickly pears scattered at the foot of the mountains we were running by. A volunteer passed on a bike, he didn't have painkillers but kindly gave me a half bottle of water which I ran with the rest of the way, refilling it with a mixture of water and gatorade at each aid station. At mile 17 my spirit lifted and I was filled with energy, possibly from the endurolytes and pain killers a kind volunteer had given me, but it seemed more like the stunning desert landscape empowered me and added a figurative spring to my step. I almost didn't want the run to end . . . .. almost. At mile 19 I traded a GU for a caffeinated one, and in turn traded that for a protein bar, recalling that after lengthy activity your body sources protein from your muscles, failing an external supply. I relished the bar, somewhat repulsed by the thought of the alternative. At one aid station the volunteers literally applauded my sparkly skirt and not long after a traffic cop cheerfully asked "How's it going sparkly?". There was one last uphill trudge and then I rounded the corner and happily made it to the fire station finish. We were rewarded with giant salty pretzels and peanut butter tortillas. Lisa, myself and Eddie "Barefoot Bandito" got a ride to our shuttle bus on a golf cart. As we left I said "adios" and the bus driver playfully said "adios chiquitas" and we all laughed with endorphin fueled bliss en route to El Conquistador having conquering the Tuscon marathon.

My 13th marathon was a lucky one, filled with good fortune, warm exchanges and many kindnesses. 

Long may we run!

Bridget Robinson

Fat Ass Full Frosty Beaver Moon Trail Half Marathon 2014 (2nd annual)

Won't you hold my hands over my heart?

I want you to close my eyes when it grows dark.

We go over the mountains and under the stars.

We go over the mountain and under the stars.

Bow and Arrow by Ruben And The Dark

Seventy runners gather in the atrium at the Forks on a blustery Friday evening for the return of the Fat Ass Full Frosty Beaver Moon Trail Half Marathon. Nervous chatter permeates the room as the assembled check in, adjust headlamps and mill about catching up with old friends. This much anticipated event attracts the spirited runner, the rogues, and the adventurous ones of the running community.  It's an off-the-grid, low key, no fee, no schwag, no medal, no bib, no timing slow dance through gorgeous technical city trails.

Rheal Poirier, event organizer addressing the assembled runners.

Last minute instructions... don't get lost!

See Mike Listen for Instructions.

This year's Full Frosty attracts double the number of runners from 2013. Local runner and Manitoba Runners Association board member Bob Nicol predicts the Full Frosty will exceed one hundred runners in 2015.  Dwayne Sandall of the Manitoba Trail Runners provided support by expertly marking the trail with reflective flags making getting lost, if not impossible, less likely.  Dwayne also provided sweep duty and advised the crowd "If you come up behind me on the trail you were surely lost".  

Dwayne provided sweep on the trail "If you come up behind me you were surely lost"

We move from the comfort of the atrium to the chilly start line next to Esplanade Riel.  Dwarfed under the beauty of the Canadian Museum for Human Rights we dance nervously from foot to foot and pose for smiley pictures. The full moon glimmers momentarily between breaks in the thick cloud as if to reassure we mere mortals that all is well. On Rheal's good word we surge forward together as one, over the river, under the moon, through the woods. Together, seventy souls, one spirit.

All is well, all is good, all is alive... under a big old moon.

In time and space we slip into our own groove and follow the rhythmic beat of our heart. Lone runners silently lost in contemplation, large groups chat incessantly and punctuate the darkness with contagious laughter, friends relish the time together and grow closer.  Head lamps slither snake-like along the trails. The moon is shy tonight and the wind is sharp on our faces as we crunch, crunch, crunch along the gravel trail.

Over the river, under the moon, through the woods.

Esplanade Riel

Dwayne's reflective flags are strategically located on the winding dark trails. We learn to watch for them and yell "flag" as they are spotted.  Three flags side by side mark the optional, yet enticing, single track trails. The single track trails hug the river bank and wind impossibly through thick bush making 'running' a relative term.  I use my tiny hand held flashlight in addition to my head lamp to light these ancient trails.  Our run slows to a calculated walk on the sharp twists and turns.  The lead runner yells "branch" or "careful" to warn those several paces behind.  It's breathtaking and exciting, and exhilarating.  It's a sublime evening to be alive under a moonless sky, dancing along a Red River monkey trail.

Gabrielle Roy Trail Head 

The finish line is perfect.  We cross over the Assiniboine River on the converted wooden railway bridge leading to the Forks.  The bridged is decked with hundreds of coloured lights blowing wildly in the stiff wind. There's no gantry, no timing mat, no crowds, just a single volunteer at the end of the bridge greeting us with a most welcoming high five.  Tired and thirsty, we head to Finn McCues for a suitable refreshment. Smiles and hugs abound.

Thank you Rheal and Dwayne for your time and energy. This trail run is surely one of the finest urban trail adventures in the land.

It's a good day to be alive, dancing under a shy moon.

Mike

(Photos kindly provided by Gregory C. McNeil...except for the blurry, out of focus last one, that was taken by a runner called Mike).