Last summer, after completing the Last Annual Vol State 314 mile run – I was running off the high of completing such an epic adventure. I felt like I could tackle anything. The Bruce Trail came under my radar. During a group with the Russell Run Club, I mentioned that I was eying it to one of our Run Leads. Later that morning, after the run – I got a text from Tammy.
“If you decide to do the Bruce Trail, I will help. My schedule is flexible”.
I looked at my phone with puzzlement and thought, “Really?”
And that was the second offer that week. The other one was off Instagram. And I never mentioned it publicly. A person I never met:
“If you are thinking about doing the Bruce Trail FKT. I could be of some assistance in the Northern Sections”
Do people want to help me? Was there a catch? Did they feel like they had to return a favour?
A Sport That Mirrors My Personality
I am a loner—or maybe I was. I struggled with not feeling part of a group during high school and university. I eventually came to peace with it—quite content eating alone at a restaurant, awkward at social events, or travelling alone. Running was a sport that fit my personality—I didn’t need to be with a team or friends. I was quite content to be on my own on the open road or trails. I tried group runs but I dreaded the small talk and conversations about running shoes.
I eventually got into ultras – running up to 50 miles was pretty straightforward. I could easily do it on my own. I can run a 50 miler and go straight into my car to return to the hotel. When I got into the 100-mile runs – I recruited my husband, Sean. I didn’t have the confidence that I could do it without support. Or maybe he recruited himself; I think he was uncomfortable with me running these distances, especially in the mountains. And I have been known to pick up random strangers along the race course to pace me through the night.
Honestly, as much as I appreciated his help, I felt embarrassed. The other runners must think I have no friends (well, it might have been true). I might as well have asked my mother to crew me. As much as I embrace being a loner – I still struggle at running events. I watch all of them gather and talk about their adventures. I stand around awkwardly, waiting for the start. Even after finishing the races and winning – I still felt like an outsider.
Discovering the Event That Fits Me
I was introduced to Fastest Known Times in 2020 when my summer plans got spoiled. This fits my loner persona perfectly. Nobody is around. No awkward social interactions. No one to compete against except the clock (or my lack of self-confidence). All I need is someone to drop me off at the start and pick me up at the end.
It wasn’t planned, but they wound up being abandoned railroad trails: Prescott-Russell Recreational, Cataraqui, and K&P Trails. I grew up beside the railroad tracks in Finch – so it must have been in grained in me. I fell in love with these trails, which went through small towns, forests, high rock cuts, and open fields. No cars, just ATVs. As I ran through them, I imagined a time long gone where trains were the major mode of transport between all these villages.
The Ottawa Valley/Algonquin Trail was next on my list. One evening in 2022, I was watching the news during supper. A segment came up about a few bikers doing a tour of the Ottawa Valley Trail, hitting all these villages. What? I was on the internet hunting down maps—106 miles on railroad trails. My coach Derrick got a message with a link to the website and CTV’s new segment.
“I want to do this.”
2023 was the year I returned to ultras. I was sidelined in 2021 due to a stress fracture. 2022, I was still feeling the lingering effects. Being really cautious, I kept the mileage down until it was resolved. In March 2023, I came off a solid 100 miler at the Prairie Spirt Ultra in Ottawa, Kansas. I felt like I was ready to take on a bunch of challenges. The OVT was next on my list in May. It would have been a great training run for Vol State. I’d run it self-supported to get used to being alone and relying on whatever stores and gas stations could find along the way.
FKT Gone Bust
It turned out differently than planned. The days leading up to it I knew I should have called it off. But my ego got in the way. I started the run fatigued. One hour into the run – the earbuds popped into my ears. I needed the music to help drown out what was going through my head. Later I was reaching for my phone, taking pictures and posting them on my Instagram stories with snarky comments. Anybody reading the series could tell I was suffering. Sean got a phone call 50 km in at Cobden – I was crying, telling him I was struggling. 50km was usually a warm-up.
Sean did some drive-bys in Renfrew and Arnprior. He knew I was struggling. I am sure he wanted to jump in to help or tell me to call it a day. But he knows how determined (or stubborn) I am. Arnprior was the last drive by – I told him I was okay – just 65 km to go.
Pakenham saw me sitting on a park bench in the middle of the night in the rain – crying. The urge to sleep was overwhelming. I hit Almonte about 130 km in – the walking breaks increased in duration but decreased in speed. I was done. My husband got a phone call at 4:00 am. I could not muster the energy or desire to run the last 36km. The math was going through my head—I told myself it’d be another 6 to 8 hours to hit Smith Falls. I didn’t even give the sunrise a chance to boost my energy.
I am relatively active on social media for someone who tries to keep to myself. Mainly because of the Russell Run Club, however, I might enjoy posting random pictures with sarcastic comments.
There is one rule I have with social media: If you are going to post about your achievements and successes, you need to be able to acknowledge your failures and things that don’t go as planned.
It was hard to post. I did it and acknowledged what went wrong. That’s is how you get respect as an athlete and a coach.
I was not ready – I was still recovering from the Prairie Spirt. And I went from not running long distances for two years to cramming multiple 100 miles runs in a few months. I was trying to make up for lost time. It was an eye-opener when my personal trainer, Jaimie, pointed it out. The Rideau Valley Trail FKT was pulled off my schedule. The focus was to get some solid rest and recovery and focus on Vol State. That was my “A” goal. I was to return to the OVT in the fall only if I was ready. I wasn’t after Vol State – I was still tired from the run and burning the candle at both ends with work, coaching, race directing and managing a running club
Mustering up the Courage to ask for Help
I have done two previous FKT unsupported. I took pride in that. When I did the K&P Trail, it was supported. I felt like I “cheated” – there is something so pure about running something epic on your power and resources. I don’t like to be treated like a “princess” at races. I wanted to redo it solo, and the same for the first attempt of the OVT last year.
With another return to Vol State this year – I want to get few more 100 milers done before the journey. I ran the Pistol Ultra in March, which did not go as planned. The sleep deprivation got the better of me. And I felt so alone on the course despite all the runners out there on the out and back course. I wanted to redo the OVT but I didn’t want to run it alone any more. I was scared of failing like last year and with the Pistol.
I had some unfinished business that needed to be completed with a vengeance. I needed help.
When crewing at races, my husband makes it sound like he is “volen-told”. It makes me feel like an inconvenience. Which likely reinforces my reluctance to ask for help. When I decided to give the OVT another shot, it took me 4 weeks to get the courage to put a post on the Club’s private Facebook group to ask for help. I was floored by the offers of support. I might have too many for the challenge.
In the days leading up to the event, I heard about the conversations about organizing the pacers and crew. Then, there was a FaceTime chat the Wednesday before. I was taken aback as to the seriousness of the crew. Still feeling uncomfortable asking the Club for help, I mainly sat back and listened to them talk about the logistics. My husband just showed up and casually read the checklist the night before.
The Race Report
As for the run report, I am writing this five weeks later. Hopefully, what I mention below is somewhat accurate—time tends to warp memories. If you need to know the details about the food and gear, come join our group runs. That’s where I embrace my coach/mentor role and can get into the details. And our members will definitely chime in on their experience.
I’d rather tell you about the emotions, experiences, and thoughts that make a race or run memorable.
My husband and I drove up to Petawawa the night before. I am not sure what my husband’s feelings are, but I enjoy the drive up to the races . It is time we can spend together with nothing to do but talk. He makes snarky comments that make me laugh. (Except for our 16-hour trip to Tennessee, where I am writing this blog. My attention may be a little diverted).
The next morning, at 4:00 a.m., I’m standing at the beginning of the Trail in Petawawa. It is a moment I love. I press start on my watch and GPS tracker and begin walking and then running. I embrace the peace, darkness, feelings, and thoughts as I move through the sleepy town into the sunrise.
“I will be done at midnight. A lot can go wrong or right before then.”
I envision the trail map and think about the destination. “I am running to Arnprior, then to Smith Falls! All the way down there.” After all the 100 milers I have done – its still a freakishly long distance.
Finally, “In 20 km, Tammy is going to join me to help me through a 30 km stretch that was tough last year. Then I have Tara and Mike taking over crewing duties. Then Yves, and Pat joining me later for the home stretch.” With that in my head – I was flying towards Pembroke.
I had about 45 km of the 165 km where I ran by myself. I was worried that I would slow down or struggle. Having the Club waiting for me later on in the morning, day and night, brought energy and excitement to the journey. Something that was missing last year. I was ahead of schedule. My husband even missed me at one of the checkpoints.
I felt strong during the first 103 km on the Algonquin Trail towards Arnprior. I’d rolled into the check-in points, snagging what I needed and was off power walking and eating. I was 40 minutes ahead of schedule when I hit Renfrew. Sean was at the K&P junction, but the next crew shift and pacer were missing. I told him – I can’t wait. Tara and Mike soon rolled in – they got lost. I told them Jane Street – not June. Oops. They saw me pulling off my shoes, checking my feet, and getting ready for the next half of the journey. I was barking orders to my husbands: Can I get some coke? Did you find ice? Where are the Skittles? When do I see you next? You could not tell that I already had run 70 km. I was warmed up and ready to go. Little did they know that I was riding off the excitement that I had my friends from the Russell Run Club coming in to take over.
Yes, I said "friends".
A Shift in Training
Six years ago, I battled burnout in running. My training involved spending my weekends driving to trail heads one to two hours away and spending six hours running. This carried on well into 2020 and 2021, when I was scoping out the trails for my FKT attempts. I was quite content with my 2 -3 hours in the car listening to my podcast. I was free to run where I wanted and at whatever pace I felt like it.
In June 2018, I snagged another win at the Old Dominion 100 mile run. The joy and excitement of the finish and win was not there. “So what?” We got to hang out with fellow runners the next morning and celebrated our achievement and shared stories. But I returned home feeling alone – that feeling of community was gone. I struggled with the training for the Fat Dog 120 miler the following August.
Two years ago, the Club underwent a major shift – it was no longer an annual kids program. Adults started to be included with parkrun and a Learn to Run clinic. That meant I had to run with people and force myself to make small talk. I struggled through it, but I lucked out and had a group that clicked well. They held up the conversation on their own.
Halfway through the clinic, after a training run, one of the participants said, “Thank you.” She saw my puzzlement. For what?
I learned that the participants who registered could have easily gotten back into running on their own. Most of them had run a half marathon or marathon in the past. But they joined the clinic to have the support system and socialization, not my expertise or training.
A few weeks later, the clinic was wrapping up. The topic of group runs came up. I mentioned that I’d like to get this going, but it was a challenge with scheduling, etc. “We’d be more than happy to help.” That was how passionate they felt about creating a supportive and social environment.
Fast forward to today. We are easily seeing 10 to 20 people showing up for our group runs and clinic. I am showing up almost every week to Sunday group runs even though I am not needed – we have Run Leads. Once in a while, I send a text to one of our members to see if they are doing their “Tara Loop” at 5:30 am. Just because I need some company for a run – or just want to hang out with some people.
I finally feel like I belong with a group
Back to the Race Report
Daunted by the projected paces. Mike, Tara and Tammy biked along side me. I was still knocking out a 5:30 to 6:15 pace with little effort. Again, hyped up with the company and support. Their opting for the bike made sense, especially over 20 to 30 km; however, their speed on the bike must have felt like a crawl. Equally as challenging.
Yves and Pat, on the other hand, could have done that pace with me; however, they jumped in for the last 45 km. I felt like I was flying at a 6:30 to 7:30 pace. They likely thought it was a crawl – especially Yves, who is well over 6’ in height. He must have shortened his stride drastically to keep up with my 5’4″ height and tiny legs. They both kept me in line – making my walk breaks limited to one minute. I told them to make sure I didn’t dicker around.
Tara and I were in the mid-day sun behind the Hydro Station in Arnprior, and the heat took its toll.
“Any words of wisdom?” Tara said, pointing her phone to me for a quick video to the group chat.
“Don’t do it. It’s awful. It’s hot,” I said. “But it’ll be better once the sun goes down.” The “amazing and crazy” runner also struggles and has moments of weakness.
We were off to Pakenham, which felt like a million miles away. One of the challenges with railroad trails is that they are generally flat and straight. Most of the time, the tree cover is sparse, exposing you to the elements. I eventually saw a church steeple on the horizon…. 5 km away. Ugh.
My husband had the better deal crewing me earlier on. Tara and Mike on the other hand had another version of me take care of. I rolled into the checkin point, feeling the effects of 115 km, the heat and the 2:00 am wake-up call. I no longer was in control. I started to enter my own little world. My brain was beginning to fog up and decisions of what to eat was a challenge.
Tammy returned from a commitment earlier in the day to help out. It was already a long day for her – she could have easily have gone home. But her presence was still appreciated.
“Just a marathon left,” my pacer Yves mentioned. When you get to this distance, it is “just.” It is equivalent to the last 10 km of a marathon. I feel blessed to be in such shape physically and mentally to be able to run “just a marathon.”
In Almonte, 128 km in, I sat on the bench, trying to eat and muster up the energy to get the last 36 km in. Tara grabbed an ice cube and rubbed across my shoulder and down my arm, helping me cool down. I was eating her fruit and veggies, which she brought for Mike and herself. It was the only thing I could get down. Potato chips and candy were not going down. I could hear discussions among my crew about pacer drop-offs and pickups and other stuff.
It was kind of unreal to listen to and experience this—I had a bunch of people working together to help me reach a goal, but that feeling of guilt of inconveniencing them was still there.
Those who paced me before that point got a Michelle who was excited about the run, chatting away, listening to stories, and being an active participant in the conversation. After that, the energy was focused on keeping the pace I set for myself: a blazing 6:30 km, then 6:45….then holding on for dear life to keep it at 7:00. I could barely handle small talk or even think about what I could say to start one up. Yves and Pat just had to embrace the silence that were broken up with my request to take a quick walk break. I’d start talking but it was just me counting to 60. Thats’ all I was given myself to rest.
Just past Carleton Place, we swapped pacers. Yves parked on the tailgate of his truck while I crawled into Tara’s minivan to sit and drink. Again, in my little world, the rest of them got Pat up to speed. “Just keep her talking and motivated” they said.
Just as we left, we gathered around Yves to take a group shot. He ran almost 30 km – he didn’t have the energy to move any more. This is the post-run test to the group which says it all.
FYI – for those who care. I just checked my logs. I haven’t ran more than 22k since 2019. I did a 21.1 May 2023 (race weekend)… My longest run this year was 16k in April lol.. Explains my soreness. But I would do it again in a heartbeat.
Pat ran 24 km just before sunset. She tried hard to keep me engaged and to get me talking. Nighttime running was something new to her, especially in the middle of nowhere. I talked about previous night runs and all the things I saw and heard—the beady eyes staring at me, the rustling in the shrubs, and the singing coyotes. She was not into it.
“If a bear shows up, I can run faster, and he can eat you,” she said.
“Yeah, but you are wearing your disco vest,” I replied. “He can see you and’ll be deterred by my smell.”
Even though it was dark – the straight, flat, and seemingly unending trail was still present. During the entire run, I only looked at the pace of my watch. I had no clue how far I went or the time of day. Pace was something I could control. Even up to the end, I had no idea what was left. I would keep looking down the trail for light – hoping it’d be a headlamp. But it was a street light or other outdoor light.
Then, we saw the bright light at the end of the trail. The end was near. We’d hit a road crossing, and the light was still far away, then another… finally, we got to the end. Sean had popped a light on top of his truck – visible for 4 -5 km. The anticipation of the end might have made the last 30 minutes drag on. We gave him crap for that as we crossed.
As I pressed the stop on my watch and tracker, I embraced my crew. The celebration was very quick as it was a long day and night and we had a long drive home. Even Yves was following the finish on his couch at home still recovering from the run.
I have lost count of my 100 mile finishes. This one had no belt buckle, no spectators cheering me on for the last few hundred meters, no prize or recognition on Ultrasignup or some ultrarunning blog. But this will be the most memorable as I finished with those that have played an important role in my life in the last two years.
Post Run Analysis
When setting up my spreadsheet, I was unsure if 20 hours was an over- or underestimate. Based on my performance last year at the Prairie Spirit (18:35), I hoped to get to 18 to 19 hours. However, I am not that runner anymore. So a 19:37 finish for 103 miles with an 18:57 100-mile split meant a lot to me (see the Pistol Ultra blog when it’s out ;)). I am not the type of person to list random stats like age group placing, overall places, splits, excuses, etc, to prop myself up. But curiosity took over to see how such a time stood in the ultra world. A time like that would throw me into the top 100 times in 2023 for 100 miles. It was not bad, considering it was not in a race environment, nor my A-race/run. (Prairie Spirit was 51st fastest time last year in North America)
This run was different on so many levels. I have never had so much focus on running except for the time I broke the Canadian 100-mile record. It was all business focusing on the pace and keeping the walk breaks (and dickering around) to a minimum. I might have tried to make up for the Pistol Ultra three months prior. Having a crew waiting for me in every town, a pacer keeping me accountable, and a dozen people watching my progress on the Garmin tracker also helps.
The Gift of Allowing Someone to Help
I am pretty independent. I don’t like to ask for help, not because of ego but because I don’t want to inconvenience anyone (and I am shy). Sometimes, it is a benefit – I figured out how to do a lot of stuff in my lifetime. Of course, there is a fine line between asking for help and being bossy. I’ve learned to rework my “asks” to my husband. “Can you do this?” has been changed to “It would mean so much to me if …”
Of course, if you ask me for help, I am dropping what I am doing. Sometimes, it is genuine, and sometimes, it is because this is what you are supposed to do. (I am human, you know). Especially with the Club – the amount of time spent building it….well, let’s say it’s an expense hobby. The expense being my time. But I enjoy it – I love watching members of the club train hard and reach some amazing goal they though were out of reach. Of course, I question the motive. Do I genuinely want to help, or is it to give me a sense of worth? (That human thing, you know)
When I first signed up for Vol State in 2018 – I purchased “Bench of Dispair” by Dallas Smith. I was obsessed with the event and still am. There was a section in the book about the author finishing a run, and a child approached him offering a Gatorade or water. He politely declined, not thinking too much of it. The boy walked back to his parents with his shoulders slumped, feeling upset. The boy was denied the joy of being able to help someone. It stuck with me as it did with the author.
The gift of allowing someone to help, this theme has been in my head since the FKT. I have been binge-listening a podcast by Terrie Wurzbacher, “It’s All about the People.” She interviews the runners of Vol State and the Road Angels that help them on the journey. As I listen to the interviews and walk to work, my excitement for returning to Vol State increases. However, I also am jealous of the road angels – they help tired and weary runners (self-imposed albeit – as Terrie mentions numerous times) reach their goals. Some of them put out a cooler of water, a few go all out with tents, cots and pulled pork sandwiches. They look forward to July like it’s Christmas. They get nothing in return except meeting a lot of cool people, hearing their stories and knowing they played a role in their journey to the Rock.
Tammy kept me company for 30 km of the journey – from Pembroke to Cobden. Last year it was a brutally long section – physically and mentally. There was lots of small talk. I mentioned how shocked at the response from the Club with offers of support. After the run, she posted on the Club’s private Facebook page. Instead of rehashing our conversations, this is what she wrote:
A few of us witnessed something truly amazing on Saturday. Our fearless leader, Michelle ran over 160km along the Algonquin Trail. The exact time, the exact distance, Michelle’s experience, that’s her story to tell. What I saw were the gifts that this Club delivers.
Michelle received the gift of support in the form of volunteers biking and running alongside her and helping her at aid stations with whatever she needed. She gave the supporters the gift of witnessing an incredible achievement but more importantly, the gift of knowing we were all a small part of supporting her work through the fatigue, pain, and doubt to dig down and display unbelievable perseverance to reach her goal.
For me, Saturday was an example of what this Club is all about. People, most of whom didn’t know each other just a few years ago, giving and receiving generous gifts. Whether the challenge is running for a few minutes, running many hours or something more personal, this community is full of the gifts that help us meet those challenges. For that, I am so grateful. Congratulations Michelle on your run and on this beautiful community you have created.
Thank You
Thanks so much to Mike and Tara for taking over the crewing midway through. You won over Sean’s trust to let go of that responsibility. You handled all stages of these long-distance runs where you have an energetic runner to start whose nutrition is on point. Then, later on, a little diva can’t stomach anything that you have ready to go (sorry about the ravioli) and needs a bit of motivation for the “just a marathon left.”
Thank you to the Pacers – Tammy, Yves, Pat (as well as Tara and Mike)- for all the miles. You kept me accountable and constantly moving. Time flew by. Tammy, Tara and Mike got the talkative and engaging version. Yves and Pat jumped in when the pace slowed, and talking took too much energy. Thank you for your patience and running a distance your body was not likely ready to do.
Finally, thanks to everyone who did offer to help. Those whose plans changed and couldn’t make it reached out personally and wished me the best. I appreciated it. The offers motivated me with the training. I had a reason to get the work done, and I reached the start in Petawawa physically and mentally ready.
In the end, you saw what my running world is like. I hope you enjoyed this unique experience. This was different from your typical 1/2 marathon. You can appreciate why I struggle to answer your questions about these “shorter” races. If I inspired a few of you to do something epic (regardless of distance) – I would be there for you instantly, just like you all did for me.
Closing
Algonquin/Ottawa Valley Trail 103 miles in 19:37, supported. Now, it’s a route on the FKT site for anyone else who are up for the challenge to run it.
Most of the time, I finish these runs with a list of things that I wish I had done differently, and sometimes, I have the urge to go out and do it again just to run it faster. I am happy with this one. There is nothing I want to change – the crew and pacers kept pushing right to the end.
I have three more FKTs on the wish list, but these are multi-day runs. And I still desire to do them self-supported. But after this FKT, they will be tough after experiencing the magic of everyone’s support and motivation.
Tell us your experiences or stories
Have you experience the gift of someone helping or been able to give the gift to allow someone to help? How has this impacted you?
When I ran a 25K trail race, it was 2 loops of 12.5K. As I finished the FIRST loop there was a runner cheering us all onto our second loop. He was very much in good shape and had a medal around his neck – because he had already finished and won the 25K distance. But had returned to cheer on everyone else. I hope I never forget that moment I realized who he was and what he was doing as it was such an amazing gift of showing that we are all a community and we are ALL worthy of being cheered! I do try to embody this myself as I write posts for my kids dance studio and have always made a point to cheer as many dancers/accomplishments as possible. Because you need everyone who commits to the sport to make anyone placing at all successful – no one is organizing an event for just three people!