Canadian Death Race

After a few years of prioritizing big races, I decided to take an easier year to give my body a break and to focus on my new career as a psychologist. Last year, I won a Sinister race entry while running a leg on the top women’s relay team at Sinister 7, so I decided to use my entry to run Canadian Death Race this year. I hadn’t been to the race since 2019 when I ran on a relay team and crewed for Tania when she soloed, so I was excited for a new course that would feel like enough of a challenge to keep me interested, but not so much of a challenge that it would leave me exhausted like running 200 milers do.

I was feeling a little underprepared for the climbs on this race because I had not gotten the kind of elevation training I had hoped for following my spring marathon in Vancouver. Other than a mountain day with friends and Sinister 7 50k, I had mostly been running Edmonton trails and riding my bike (to Manitoba! but that’s a very flat story for a different blog post).

But mostly I was excited to be toeing the line with so many run friends from our incredible run community, and having Kirk, our two youngest kids, and our new puppy Yukon along for his debut to the world of crewing.

I’ve raced enough to have learned that there is no point in getting overly anxious about the start line, but I also knew that I should not underestimate how difficult this race would be, so I had the appropriate amount of buzzy energy as the gun went off that morning. All in all it was shaping up to be an incredible day chasing mountain summits.

Five years ago, I ran Leg 1 with Tania to start her off on her solo day out there before crewing for her for the rest of the race. Fast forward, and here we were, in reversed roles, starting out on Leg 1 together again. We couldn’t help but reminisce as we ran, about how much things had changed, and about how some things hadn’t. Tania joked that my hair had been through a lot but now was back as long as it was before the accident and we both shared a sense of nostalgia about what newbie ultrarunners we were in 2019, and how there was something enviable about that first time feeling neither of us will ever experience again. The good thing about not being a newbie runner anymore was that I was feeling fully confident I would finish the race and enjoy the day. Instead of feeling stressed at the start of the race I got to spend it chatting with Tania, although perhaps that shows we weren’t working hard enough?

The transition area after Leg 1 is absolute chaos and I could tell Kirk was a little frazzled having to juggle four kids, a puppy and get my race bin ready to get me out on Leg 2 as quickly as possible. Sunscreen, watermelon, Yukon snuggles and off I went to climb Flood mountain. The course is still pretty busy at this point thanks to all the relay teams, soloists and all the people doing the Near Death Marathon, so I seemed to find friend’s to run with for much of Leg 2, including when my friend Matthew caught up to me before passing me on a climb. The view from Flood mountain was gorgeous and the day was heating up. Racers slowed as everyone scrambled down Bum Slide on the descent before heading over to the second big climb of the day up Grande Mountain. I had done this section of the trail once before on a training weekend with friends so I knew what to expect. I remembered struggling with the very steep descent off of Grande Mountain, very unoriginally named ‘powerline’ (because…well, it’s obvious isn’t it?) but the steep grade and loose rocks that were a struggle for me the last time, weren’t an issue for me today. I was feeling pretty confident and was able to trust my shoes would keep me upright. My toenails probably won’t last, but at least I didn’t bite the dust on that section.

Leg 2 finishes back in the town of Grande Cache, making it much easier for crew. Kirk and Tania were looking relaxed and happy this time, the kids were busy swimming at the pool nearby, and Yukon was tired out from the hot day.

Matthew came in a few minutes after I did, and after we both loaded up on ice to combat the heat, we set out on the easy Leg 3 together. By now the course was quiet because we had passed the 42 km mark and those doing the Near Death Marathon were done. A quiet course means a greater chance for wildlife encounters, so I was so happy for the company, in fact, we both agreed we would be a good match to spend the rest of the race together which honestly was a huge relief to me to not have to worry about bears or cougars. Apparently, the people on the trail ahead of us saw a cougar towards the end of Leg 3, which means I assume the cougar saw us, but as long as I survived the one-sided encounter, ignorance is bliss and is just fine with me.

At the next transition, Kirk proudly presented me with the most perfect grilled cheese sandwich I had ever seen, winning him the gold medal in the “crewing mediocre ultrarunners” event. At least one of us is winning these things.

Even though I’m not new to the Alberta ultrarunning scene, I have been missing out on a pretty legendary piece of the culture; the climb on Mount Hamell. It lives up to its reputation of being the toughest part of the Death Race with a long, steady climb through the trees, until you pop above the treeline and can see the summit, still a long ways away. My lack of elevation training was showing as I slowed considerably as the climb wore on, which was a little frustrating, but a great reminder that you can only get out of a race what you put into it. The truth is, I didn’t put enough into this training cycle and now it was showing, but at least that didn’t take away from the stunning view, getting the Death Race coin to use as passage to cross the river, stopping for a minute to honour the prayers on the prayer flags in the perfect lighting. These are the moments that make the tired legs worth it.

The sun was setting on the cruise-y descent and we were both still feeling good as we hit Ambler loop, a 5km loop trail that seems a little pointless but also gives you access to the aid station twice in a short amount of time.

I’m not one to complain about bonus snack access. Especially when that loop is followed by a 7km gravel road with an easy downhill grade. We made up some good time even though I’m not sure either of us felt like running quickly by that point, but it felt like when it was that easy, we should probably take advantage of the opportunity.

We were pretty happy to get into the transition after Leg 4, and I naively believed that Leg 5 was an easy 19k with a fun little boat ride to the finish line. I thought a sub 20 hour was within reach. Nope. I was pretty wrong about that. There was a lot more climbing and single track then I thought and a couple minutes lost because a young guy on a relay team in front of us thought he heard a bear beside him so he turned and ran back. Buddy, the first rule of bears is don’t turn and run. No worries though, we bunched up as a group of four and passed the alleged bear without incident. Through the famous Split Rock, and finally, we reached the aid station at Sulphur gates. The trees opened up enough for us to look up and get a good view of the incredible northern lights overhead. Yep, how lucky are we, to get northern lights like that on the night we happen to be up all night running.

A short trail from the aid station to the river where Charon was waiting to collect your Death Race coin to allow your passage across the River Styx. Ok, it was actually my friend Rob and two guys in a boat across the Smoky River under Sulphur Gates, but still a pretty iconic experience. I think Rob was supposed to stay in character and hold out his hand for the coin in silence, but he couldn’t help but pipe up “Oh hi Janelle! Hi Matthew! Good to see you guys!” in his usual cheery voice, not death-like at all. The boat ride was too short, and I was disappointed we were back on the trail and climbing again. I was tired, and getting frustrated that now that all that fun stuff was done we were still climbing. I was ready to be done, but that means nothing out there.

I don’t get to adapt the course to my will, instead I have to adapt to the course. Be flexible. Keep going. Channel that frustration into forward motion.

I said goodbye to a sub 20 hour finish as the trail dragged on and on. And that final gravel road climb back into town? That felt sort of cruel. But then, as all difficult challenges do, the climb ended, we were in town and there was Tess, Matthew’s partner, wrapped in a blanket and waiting for us on the sidewalk in front of their AirBnB which happened to be on the course, less then a km from the finish line. She cheered us as we passed, then hopped in her car to meet us at the finish while we picked up the pace for those amazing last few minutes out there on course.

So many friends, my middle daughter, and Kirk waited at the finish, (but no Yukon, he was back in the tent with my son, tuckered out from his long day of new experiences) as Matthew and I crossed under the arch with big stupid grins on our faces. What an honour to race such a keystone event on the Alberta ultrarunning scene, with such perfect weather, a great race partner and a show of northern lights to light the way.

A few hours later, I got to join the line of all the previous Death Racers as they welcomed new finishers to the club. A lot of people were surprised I had never done this race before, yet there I was, being welcomed by so many friends, and finally able to call myself a true, Canadian Death Racer.

There was so many beautiful northern lights pictures taken by others while I was running!