Don’t Give Up in the Chair: Becoming an Ultramarathoner

On May 2, 2020,  during the isolation of the COVID-19 pandemic, I did something that I never seriously thought that I would do.  I became an ultramarathoner at Nova Scotia Trail Runner’s Ella’s Frontyard Virtual Ultramarathon.

Spoiler: I ran 11 hours, 11 laps leaving from my frontyard, 73.37km total.  In reflecting on this, my first dive into ultramarathon territory, here is my biggest learning upfront:

I discovered that what was eventually my demise was also equally what fuelled my victory.  

My brain’s eventual inability to function coherently and keep me safe from traffic along with the deep desire to disintegrate into a puddle on the ground was my demise by the time I reached my 70th kilometer of running.  And equally, it was my fiercely determined brain’s capacity to explore what kind of athlete I really was that brought this runner’s body victoriously to 73.37km, 11 hours after I started.  

Here’s how it happened.

The prelude:

Like all of us, my 2020 racing season got wiped out when the novel coronavirus swept across the world.  When March began, athletically, I was coming into really great fitness. I was fresh off an outright 10km win over college boys at PEI’s Freeze Your Gizzard on Feb 29.  I made one great indoor track appearance in the 3000m.  I was slated to compete at the World Masters’ Athletics Championship in Toronto in July with some of my favorite training pals.  

In a flash, in my job as public health nurse, I was in the middle of the public health response to a pandemic.  Many long hours. Overtime. Return to shift work.  Schools closed.  Society closed. Isolation and quarantine are the global themes.  The racing schedule gets wiped out. 

Enter the end of April.  My Halifax Road Hammers Coach Lee was putting on a quarantine solo virtual team-relay and many (most!) of my teammates were hammering out new 5km PBs.  While always proud to be a public health nurse, my runner’s body was so tired, buried in public health shift work fatigue and stress.  I was nowhere near peak 5km PB shape.  I was excited to see all of my teammates crushing it.  While also feeling a little personally discouraged as I felt so far away from that “crushing it” state.

Then came along the wild running adventure:  Ella’s Virtual Frontyard Ultramarathon by Nova Scotia Trail Runners. 

Sarah, who I coach with Love Training More, sent it to me: “New Goal!”  Desperate in Quarantine Season for something to excite me, I signed up too. Before I could change my mind.  I pretty much randomly decided that I needed to mix up my athlete-runner life.  How many laps could I run?  This felt more achievable than a 5km PB.  

Ella’s Frontyard Virtual Ultra was to be a “Last Person Standing Event” which means this: every hour, on the hour, you run a 6.67km loop out your front door. So you have 60 minutes to complete it. You run loops every hour until you can’t run anymore. 

Next, Doreen with Love Training More signed up and then Sharon on the South Shore.  In the city, Doreen, Sarah and I planned two 6.67km loops that would let us wave at each other.  We planned our video call schedule to loop Sharon in.

I trained my 6 and 8 year old kids to become my “crew.”  When I would run home after each 6.67km lap, I would have an undetermined amount of time to fuel and regroup before the next lap started. Crew support would be key. 

Under isolation, every day in this family looks very similar.  There is nowhere to go aside from bike rides and walks from our house.  This infusion of a cool new project and goal was enthusiastically embraced by my little team.  We watched some youtube videos of ultramarathon crews.  They made snack lists, grocery lists and helped build my pile of gear. 

I had a video chat with my pal and accomplished ultra Guy, Coach Rick Canning from New Leaf Run Co to iron out my strategy.  His advice is sprinkled throughout this recap. I emailed a bunch with long time training partner Damian who has been wading off into ultra-land.  I talked with my Coach Lee, who knows my running best. I was as prepared as one can be when you have no actual idea of what you are about to undertake.  

Then Saturday morning, race day, was here.  

How to recap a race that lasted 11 hours?  I guess one 6.67km lap at a time.

Lap 1, 8:00am, 6.67km total

The virtual start line was a Zoom call with 100 participants, intended to overlook your virtual start corral in your yard.  My laptop was perched to see the patio steps and my driveway.  

Flooded with endorphins and adrenaline, I waited until the race clock at centre screen flipped to 0:00 and we were off!  GO!  Except that the trail and ultra “go” is not the same as “road race go.”  

Oh Lord, it was so hard to start running without tearing off the start line.  Damian had warned me about this.  It’s not the Road Hammer way.  

Doreen, Sarah and I started with our North End loop which circled both Parker Street Food Bank and Northwood Long Term Care Centre.  My heart was full of love when I crossed paths with both Doreen and Sarah twice (wide 2 metres apart paths, of course, in social distance life).  I felt grateful for the opportunity to use my athletic skills to raise money for Feed NS through this event. 

The lap was over in a 32 minute flash. Way too quick flash, average pace 4:53/km.  Though that is my road-running-easy-pace, I need to slow down.  I do have 28 minutes before the next lap starts.

Fuel Station: When I enter the house, my crew has my 3rd breakfast on the table for me and a pile of fresh clothes to put on.  My 8 year old Boss Daughter firmly orders me what to do. I eat one Eggo waffle with peanut butter and maple syrup.  I hadn’t planned on eating so much food so early but my kids made it, how could I not eat it?

• 

• 

We look at Zoom.  We look at Strava.  I have some panic when I see the very slow average pace of other runners…. Like 6:00/km all the way to 7:20/km.  Even my Road Hammer friend Matthias is at 5:58/km.  I will run more slowly.

Lap 2, 9:00am, 13.34km total

Sarah, Doreen and I do our fly-bys on our second loop which stacks up-and-down streets on Allan, Lawrence and Duncan.  Oh surprise, Doreen and I run across street from each other for 3 streets.  And more surprise, Meghan and family and Allana are awaiting us with cheers.  Spirit Soars.  This is so fun.  

Alan also catches me for the last 2km home, socially distantly on the other side of the street and yet Road Hammer teammates together.  

Fuel Stop: a gel, chosen by 6 year old because kids are fighting over who’s job is who’s.  Gatorade which we make from powder.  Why didn’t I do that before? I don’t know.  I have clocked 5:20/km pace by walking when I see my girls on course.  It’s a little better. I panic again when I see the slow Loop 2 paces pop up on Strava. I had talked a lot about pace and walking with Coach Lee and we decided to let it come organically and to not slow down to the point of getting sloppy in stride. Matthias is still at 5:58/km. 

I message him: “How are you running so slow!!!” I have run behind Matthias at Hammer practices for years.  He is not slow.  He responds that he is walking uphills.  I should walk too.  I decide to walk the crosswalks.  I also decide that I will not look at anyone else’s Strava data because it’s not helpful for my confidence. 

Lap 3, 10:00am, 20.01km total

Happy loop on North End route.  Having so much fun!  Feeling pretty GI full but it’s ok. 

Fuel:  Freezie, the other peanut butter waffle and Gatorade and a video call with Sharon, Doreen and Sarah.  It’s pouring rain on the South Shore, oh, no Sharon!  But fear not, she is weather-proof.  

I change my sneakers here before lap 4. I started in Hoka Clifton 6s, my most cushioned shoe at Rick Canning’s recommendation (MAJOR thanks to Matthias and Aerobics First for the “urgent” delivery of these sneaks on Tuesday after I blew out a previous pair on that Friday).  Without Rick, I would have done it backwards, started with my lightweight HOKA trainers and switched into the more cushioned shoe later on.  Rick advised no: you start in the cushioned shoe until you feel beat up.  Then you switch to a lighter shoe and your beat-up feet feel a little better because they like the change.  And your feet aren’t as beat up because you started softer.  I am switching here mostly because my socks are sweaty and because my healthier right leg doesn’t love the extra cushion. 

I am also trying to foam roll my legs on these rest periods. I hadn’t thought of that but Coach Lee did.

We all set out again.

Lap 4, 11:00am, 26.68km.  Halfway to 50+km. 

I am feeling great and am so optimistic!  Doreen and I run 3 blocks apart-together and I tell her about getting a message from Matthias saying, “you are doing great, be zen.”  At the same time, I get one from Patrick saying “Mamba Mentality.” I laugh. Can you do both at the same time?  I will choose to be zen now and I will save my Mamba Mentality for later.  

When chatting with Rick, he said, “don’t set a limit on yourself. Leave your goal open.  If you tell yourself, ‘I am going to run 50km, you’ll probably run 50k.  And that’s cool.  But what if you could have run way farther than that?’ 

I think about these words here.  

When I signed up and Damian told me that you achieve “ultra status” at 7 laps and 46.69km (becausce it’s farther than the 42.2km marathon distance), my goal became to run 7 laps.  But after talking to Rick, I erased that goal and all goals.  I would leave it open and to see what I can do.  

I had also talked to Rick about being pretty un-prepared for this.  I “retired” from marathons 2 years ago when I crossed the Big Sur Marathon finish line, marking my 10th marathon.  So that means that I haven’t run more than 25km…. In 2 years, haha!  Rick says that my training over the last 3 months matters less than the years and years of consistent miles I have run.  I like this. I am all-in on believing this and I think of this in this half-way to 50km lap.

Fuel: GNOCCHI!! Cooked by my 8 year old, under dad’s watchful eye. It’s salty and impossibly delicious.  And lots of GZero sports drink.   

• 

• 

Lap 5: 12:00pm, 33.35km total

Back to the North End.  Doreen’s hip is speaking loudly to her.  We want her to make a healthy decision and to protect further running in the month of May.  I will miss seeing her twice per lap.  I will miss her big.  I worry a bit about loneliness.  Sharon’s South Shore rain is now falling on us.  

Then I see Sarah.  I walk. I need to walk when I see my friends to slow my pace down.  Sarah calls out, “hey, remember when we both quit marathons until our kids are older!?” and we both laugh and I don’t care that it’s raining and there’s a sort of glee in this craziness because these two retired-from-marathoning-mother-runners are both about to clock a marathon today.

Fuel: Another freezie and some more gnocchi.  Rick was right, real food is better.  Another shoe change because the Rincons are now soaked. Six year old is surprisingly good at massage!

Lap 6: 1:00pm, 40.02km total

Walking the crosswalks and cruising down to Allan Street. I marvel that my runner’s body actually feels better now than it did when we started.  I float along. I am strong: relax, relax.  Zen.  I am a little bit lonely with no Doreen to see but I have Sarah.  Plus Allana and Scott are still following her on their bicycles.   

And then I see Jody! YAY!!  The loneliness is shelved for a bit but it’s back a block later.  I’m looking forward to a surprise visit from my sister and I am hoping it might be soon.  

I see the Greenwoods, my neighbors, out on a family walk: “ I have run 6 laps so far!” 

Fuel: Mars Bar and G2 sport drink.  Damian is right too: ultramarathons are an excuse to eat all the junk food.  

I sit on the floor to do the things and all of a sudden, the rest-time feels like it’s shrinking. There’s so much stuff to do. I have gotten myself to about 36:xx per lap with my crosswalk walking so I have 24 minutes before the next lap.  The Mars Bar sugar doesn’t pep me up like I hoped. Get the compression socks off.  Stuff the wet shoes with newspaper.  Get the newspaper out of the dry shoes.  Foam roll for 5 minutes. Sarah messages me and tells me we are doing Allan Street again. She says it’s easier.  For me, it’s lonelier. 

I am lonely.  My brain is getting foggy. I am fatigued.  

I linger a long time in the bathroom.  It’s hard to leave it’s safe confines where one does not run.  Have you ever thought about how safe your bathroom is? Because I now have.  It’s quiet and my loving kids are asking me so many questions, it’s so much energy to answer them.  There are no questions in the bathroom and there is no running in the bathroom.

I drag myself out of the bathroom.  

I see my darling sister standing at the doorway.  “I came for the special lap,” she says, “The one where you will become an ultramarathoner.”

My fatigue disintegrates and my sister leads me out the door.

Lap 7: 2:00pm, 46.69km.  Ultra Status Achieved.  

Kristen and I run across the street from each other, apart but very much together.  How did she know I would need her right this moment?  I needed her very much.

We do the Allan loop. 

We see Sarah and her trail of cheerleaders. Jody and Meghan are now running apart/together with her.  Allan and Scott on the bike. 

I am at that emotional spot in long distance running where every emotion is so much stronger. I am full of love.  And I am full of…. not fear.  But apprehension about how I will do this when I am alone because Sarah only has one more lap in her.  I needed Kristen.  I need someone else.

I tell Kristen. I need someone.  Shouldn’t everyone have someone they can call, who knows and sees their crazy athlete self with their own athlete self?  I tell Kristen that I must text Jamie.  Jamie will come.  Kristen agrees.  Jamie is the person and Jamie will come.

• 

• 

I reach my house on this lap with 23 minutes to spare. 

Kristen heads home, running.  

Wardrobe change.  New shoes again.  I eat a gel and a dry waffle. 

I text Jamie.  I figure I will get his response when I’m back from lap 7.  Tonya is coming to cheer at some point. I hope that she will be able to find me. The next lap, #8, will be Sarah’s last lap. 

I put on my Cliff’s Antique’s singlet and tell myself that this will unlock my Mamba Mentality. I got this.

Lap 8: 3:00pm, 53.36km total

I open the door to line up in my virtual starting corral at the window and in the last 23 minutes, it has started completely downpouring.  The rain is wild.  

“This is going to suck.” 

I have my Mamba Mentality on.  I am going out there.  There’s no question of quitting.  But this is going to suck.  

I watch the virtual clock on Zoom through my window and I drag instead of spring myself down the stairs to begin my 6.67km loop. 

A black SUV is sitting across from my driveway.  The window rolls down.

It’s my longtime friend and Cliff’s Antique training pal Jer.  I am wearing my Cliff singlet.  It’s crazy pouring rain.  I have been running for 6 hours.  How did he know that I would need to see him at that precise right moment?

Here’s how, explained in my love-filled, sanity-depleted and fatigued brain: Cliff Matthew’s Love. That’s how. 100%.

I am good now.  I am strong. I am relaxed. I no longer feel the rain. I run. 

Tonya, also a Cliff’s alum, meets me about halfway through and I am beyond joyed to see her.  She runs across the street from me and we are together.  I tell her that my body feels as good right now as it did when I started.  It’s really quite amazing.  I can run more laps.  I will count 2 at a time. I can run 2 more laps.

I have now run 53.3km.

Crew Stop: I get in the house. I want to hug Tonya so badly but we maintain our 2 metres distance.  I want to say goodbye and say so many things and she says to get in the house.  I can say goodbye when I emerge.  There are many things to do, starting with the shoes because the rain.  I also need my someone else.  Family has made homemade bagels and I’m trying to eat the bagel while fielding a dozen questions from my kids. I ask my son why he isn’t wearing his glasses.  He asks me if I can find them for him.  I am stuffing my shoes with paper.  Kids are squabbling and also helping. 

Jamie has responded and says “Sure. See you at 4pm.”  I figure he can do Lap 8 with me.  I will message nearby Will Bryden, maybe he can do Lap 9.  

I am texting frantically because the time is so short and I now know I need people so much.  I need sneakers too.  Despair, Will would love to help but he’s on PEI.

Then a magical text pops up from Jamie:

“I am parked outside. I am ready to support you for the next 5 hours.”

I tear up just writing that because it’s such an amazing act of friendship. It’s raining out.  He is now parked outside my house, ready to jump in at less than 60 minutes notice. For 5 hours.  In the moment, I was just profoundly relieved and not down the deep happy hole of friendship that I am within while writing this.  Jamie and I met training for Cliff Matthews and were two of the original 10 Road Hammers. You would all be so lucky as to have a friend like Jamie.

I manage to get shoes on my feet and I triumphantly emerge from the house:

“JAMIE!I HAVE RUN 50KM!!!”

It’s time to run some more.

Lap 9. 4:00pm. 60.03km

Tonya gets out of her car too.  She’s going to run more too.  The 3 of us set off. More than two metres apart yet very much together.  

We log another 6.67km. It’s a happy loop.  I feel strong.  

Fuel: This rest is a disaster.  I am trying to eat.  I am sitting on the floor in the kitchen while my mashed potatoes microwave because it’s too much effort to stand up.  I send message to Sharon, she has run 60km!! She’s done but 60km!!

Then I’m trying to shovel the potatoes in my mouth while sitting on the floor trying to get my compression socks off. My daughter is giving me a lovely origami “I’m proud of you” prize that she has made for me.  My son is asking me if I can find him a pair of child scissors.  What? Child scissors? I have 6 minutes to get outside.  I am not wearing anything on my feet.  “No, my love.”

“Ok” he says.  “Do you want me to teach you how to make an origami puppy?”

What is even going on right now?

Six year old asks me if I can quit soon so that I can eat supper with him. 

I’m still not wearing socks or shoes.  I don’t even know how many potatoes I’ve eaten.  They taste like trash.  I have 4 minutes.  Girls are messaging me.  I tell them: “I am going out again. Mamba Big Bad Mama.”

Compression socks are too much work  I put regular socks on.  I take the gummies Tonya brought for me.  I get out the door to start the next lap on time.

Lap 10: 5:00pm.  66.7km total

I am still running. I start the lap shivering and shaking in the rain.  But I warm up in 400m. I am still moving forward. Jamie decides that we are doing the Allan Street loop, it’s easier. 

I start asking Jamie how many laps I have run.  How far have I run? I am asking him because I asked my own self and there was no response.  It was like the numbers were falling from the sky with the rain, puddling on the ground, sliding down a manhole on the ground.  The numbers are all gone.  I only know that I have run 50km at least. 

I’m no longer following Tonya and Jamie’s conversation very well.  It’s too much thinking.  They are having an in-depth (and loud because running apart) conversation about postponement of Olympics and impact on athletes and they ask me what I think and I think I say, “good.” 

As we turn onto Chebucto, about 2km from home, my heart-rate and breathing no longer feel good.  I have a weird uncomfortable uncoordinated feeling in my chest.  I tell Jamie and Tonya that I might be nearing the end.  I made a promise to my husband to be smart. 

We get towards home and Jamie says, “Hey, I thought you were walking the crosswalks.”  I had not even noticed that I just ran right across Oxford Street, thankfully not into traffic because there is none.

My brain is fried.  I am not making decisions.  I’m not following conversation. I’m not keeping myself safe in traffic.  My runner’s body is strong.  My brain is mush.

I tell Jamie: “One more lap.”

Rick’s best advice to me was: “Do not to quit in the chair!”  If you can get up, you get up.  You try the next lap.  If you can’t make it, you can’t make it.  You don’t quit in the chair though.  My body was still strong.  Jamie could be in charge of decision making for one more lap.  

Just before home in this 10th lap, my neighbors the Greenwoods are at their window, hollering loudly and happily.  Seeing them during lap 6, at 1:30pm was forever ago and I am still running!  My brain can understand this!  Damn right, I have one more lap!  Fellow newish Road Hammer Will Greenwood comes out and cheers more loudly and we tell him to come with.  So puts his running gear on. 

Tonya orders me to eat more mashed potatoes, lots of salt.  I bid her goodbye, beyond grateful for what she has helped me do.  

10th Fuel Stop: I eat some Honeystinger chews. I drank some Gatorade and some water. I sit on the sofa.  I make myself eat the salty potatoes.  I tell my kids that I am going to try one more lap and then I will put them to bed at 7:15pm.  They are happy with this.  My daughter has spent the last 2 laps worried that I was going to time out (I was never close to timing out).  I put my Cliff’s Antique’s singlet on.  It’s still damp but I need it on. 

Lap 11. 6:00pm.

I shiver so much that my teeth chatter until about 400m. Then I am just running. I am following Jamie and I am running.  Will brings up the socially distanced rear of this ultramarathon train.  I am going to run 73km.  

I don’t talk much. Jamie tells me where to run.  I run.  My feet hurt in all 26 bones and 33 foot joints with every footstrike.  But 1km later they are numb. I just run. 

Will tells me that my stride hasn’t changed a bit, it’s still strong. I say that’s years of Coach Cliff Matthews.  

Jamie is telling me I am doing awesome.  He tells me when to walk and I have an overwhelming desire to just melt right into the asphalt.  Lie down and become one with the road.  It will feel so good to lie down.  Will the road feel soft? I think yes.  But I don’t. I walk when I am supposed to and I run when I am supposed to.  I kick the curb rounding a corner and almost trip but I right myself. 

Christy appears!!! YAY!  How did she know this was the perfect moment? She buoys me along with our shared, “Why not me?” Mantra. Ultramarathoner: why not me, too?

The guys announce 4km in and it feels like 37km in a marathon where you have no idea who you will even make it to the finish while also knowing you will of course make it to the finish because you are a badass athlete.

Reaching Dublin to run the last 1.5km home feels about 55% as unbelievable as it should because I seem to have about 55% of brain function left.  I feel happy. I hurt everywhere and nowhere all at once.  It is exhaustion-soaked semi-coherent happiness.

We run down my street and back up to my virtual corral and I have done it. 

11 hours of running.  11 laps.  73.37km total.  

In the end, I executed on Rick’s advice. I didn’t give up in the chair.  I was lying in the wet, rain-drenched grass in my backyard at go-time for the 12th lap at 7pm.  Then my excited kids called me at the door and I said the best thank yous that I could to Jamie and Will and I celebrated with my kids who think I won. 

For myself, I did win.  I became an ultramarathoner.  

The aftermath

In this COVID-19 Time, I truly needed this love-filled day of smashing barriers and human limits. 

In my real office at a highschool, I have an old running magazine poster that says, “There are limits to the human body.  Go out and find them.”  I’ve pushed my limits in other athletic ways.  I dedicated years to the pursuit of a sub19 5km.  I have run a competitive fast marathon.  I have run across a country in Africa.  I have never explored how far I can run in one day.  The motivation that wandered me into this wasn’t exploring my human limits. It was curing my pandemic-boredom and my silly sadness over lack of sharp 5km speed.  The exploration of my limits happened and I’m so grateful that it did.  

The event raised more than $7000 for Feed NS.  

As a coach, I had interesting conversations afterwards with my athletes Doreen, Sarah and Sharon, all with the same theme: “Could I have done one more lap?” What if?  What if you did another lap?   What if it was the perilous cliff over which there is no running x weeks due to a blow-up injury?

Those “what-if”s are useful.  They are the magical questions that keep us coming back for more. “What if” is a big part of what calls us back to the road.

So I’m going to recover over here because it surely feels like I ran a marathon. 

Could I have done one more lap? I don’t know.  I didn’t quit in the chair. I do know that. 

I do also have a “what-if” that will call me back to the road.  

Full results can be found here.