RIF 2017 8th place

It has been a while but as everybody else sometimes we get caught up with life and we prioritize what to do. Writing the RIF race report unfortunately didn't make it to the top of the list until..well, Now.
As we are boarding our flight in direction to worlds in Wyoming!!!

So here is a flashback to our race back in June in the beautiful region of Ardeche, France.
We were very fortunate to have Dave Schloss from Australia joining us as our main navigator. We also had Wouter joining us a little bit at the last moment before the race.
Although it isn't ideal to race with two people we didn't know we were well decided to give the race a good shot.
Dave met James and I (Nat) in the south of France a few days prior to the race and we drove up to lac Devesset, HQ of the race where we met Wouter
The gear list was rather exhaustive, more specifically the first aid. It took us a while to gather everything. I think we could have been wounded for weeks without medical help and we would have been fine. We had enough to open a little mobile hospital.
 
I was a little disappointed to not have a copy of the road book in French. Being a French race I knew the translation in the English book would be missing a few nuances that would be very helpful during the race. The navigators being anglophone there was no way we would take the French version and we couldn't have both.
The gear check went pretty smooth and before we knew it the start of the race was there. 

The race started at midnight with a swim run. I must admit I thought I was going to drown about a thousand times but we made it alive, got our maps at the end, looked at them semi quickly and shot off on our bikes. We started at a decent pace...we were finally racing. Unfortunately that was short lived. About 30km in the race Wouter's derailleur failed. He replaced the derailleur hanger, jumped back on the bike but another part failed resulting in many stops and Wouter having to walk all the up hills during this first leg. With not much hope to fix the derailleur and having lost a few hours our chances to make the dark zone with the lead teams later in the race became a no go.
The next leg involved a nice trek with rock hopping in the river bed followed by a paddle. We had some fun paddling. We then saw the bikes again. After some James Magic Wouter's bike was working although he had still to push occasionally uphill or to put the chain back on. We spent most of that leg in the dark with a few teams around. On one of the steep descent in the dark I managed to face plant in the gravel dislocating (again) my wrist and damaging my knee a bit. After a good scrub we finished that leg.
We ended that leg at the start of the big paddle where we slept for a couple hours. A medic tried to put the wrist in place and off we went. That was a lot of fun with some slides, Rapids (with the two other guys shouting yyyeeewwww every time they went down a rapid before hitting a rock). Lots of laugher there. My favourite part was the second part when we had to go up river for a few hours and we kept on passing teams after teams.t
The next leg was a big trek with a caving section soon after the start of it. That leg was very nice, mostly in gorges. The caving was pretty quick and not as challenging as last year in Australia :). We knew as we progressed in the trek that we would miss the dark zone and would have to stop for a while so the urgency was gone. We got 5h sleep at a CP where the dark zone was and started hiking to the rappel as soon as it was lifted. The rappel was amazing. Two length hanging from the rope that was going away from the cliff making us spin and forced us to look at the gorges from an angle you would never otherwise. It got a little too much for me and I had to close my eyes to do part of the descent as I wasn't feeling great.
The rest of the trek went well with a few river crossings.
Followed was a bike that went pretty uneventfully except for Dave going over the bars and breaking his shifters and a couple flats (not our race for biking I'm telling you)
At the end of the bike was our last short paddle. James by then had kind of managed to fix Wouter's bike but we managed to get a new derailleur then that we ended up not using.
The last paddle went well and we finished it in the dark.
The next trek went well although mostly in the dark. I was sleeping for part of it. We ended up trekking up to the end of that trek with the all male French team. For the last few legs we kept on passing each other.
The bike that followed was a lot of climbing which I kind of liked a lot. We ended up riding along the guys team the entire way. Half way was a little via ferrata that was pretty cool.
The last trek was pretty long. We took it fairly easy even indulging for ice cream in the small village.
The last bike was supposed to be a couple hours but for some reason the night demons played with Dave's mind and he thought we weren't where we were supposed to be. That little bike ended up being an 8h+ bike ride with lots of back and forth on the same road but hey at least we got our money worth.

The last leg was sailing across lake Devesset which I ended up being pretty good at :D

All up we didn't get very lucky with the bikes but we were still happy to make it to the end with lots of laughters along the way. That's ended up being more an expedition than a race for us but we made it.
The organization was really good and very helpful. Can't wait for Reunion island next year :)

Zion Ultra-My first 100 miler by James Galipeau -3rd female

On April 7^th Nathalie and I (James) lined up early in the morning for our first 100 mile (160km) ultra. Following our 120km ultra in France last year (and Nat’s 3^rd place finish among the women), Nat became interested in the idea of trying to qualify for the Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc (UTMB), one of the pinnacle ultra-distance races in the world. With the limited options for qualifying races and trying to work around our AR schedule, we landed on the Zion Ultra, a race just outside of Zion National Park in Utah. Given the long winter in the Ottawa-Gatineau area, training for a 100-mile ultra in April is not an easy thing to do. We did the best we could, combining snowshoe running, trail running on snow (when possible), road running, and alpine ski touring (a great workout for the climbing muscles). But I could not help being quite worried about entering such a long running race under-trained, and the risk of injury that this might pose for both of us. Nevertheless, we lined ourselves up for the 6:00am start, not really knowing how things would go.

The race basically featured 4 steep climbs up to the top of different mesas (flat top mountains), where we would do one or more loops, often along the edge of the mountain, making for some very scenic views along the way. There was not a ton of elevation, but it almost all occurred in 4 climbs. The first of these was about 3km in the race. Nat and I both started out near the front of the pack of  about 250 racers, not wanting to get caught in the traffic jam that we’d been told occurs part way up the first climb where there’s a short rope section up a steep rock face. As we ran along at a comfortable pace, Nat was all smiles, commenting “I wish adventure races all started this slowly!” After a while I pulled away a little from Nat as we continued to climb. I was feeling good and the pace was reasonable. We both thought that this was the last time we would likely see each other before the end of the race, so we wished each other a good race and parted ways.

Around the 35km mark, something went very wrong for me. One minute I was feeling great and the next minute my body was cooked. I’ve bonked before and this didn’t feel like a bonk. I’ve been dehydrated before and this didn’t feel like that either. It just felt like I hit a wall without any warning and very early into the race. It didn’t make any sense to me, but it was very real and I needed to do something about it. We were on a very flat smooth rock section of the course, yet I still couldn’t even jog. My hunch was (and still is) that a few months of work and life related busy-ness and stress (some good and some not so good - but the body still registers it all as stress) caught up to me. At that point, since I was in the middle of nowhere, my only choice was to walk to the next aid station. So I walked the next 5 or 6 kms to the aid station, expecting that Nat would pass me at any time. Once I got to the aid station, I decided I would wait for Nat to arrive and then try to run with her. If I couldn’t keep up, I would just try to put-put along to see if I could just finish the race.

A few minutes later, Nat arrived with a concerned “what the hell are you doing here???!!!” when she saw me (I found out that this was because she originally thought I had stopped on purpose to wait and run with her). I explained the situation and off we went together. I quickly learned that Nat had been quite busy during the first 40km… busy making trail buddies. It seemed that every time we passed or were passed by somebody, Nat would say “this is my new friend (insert name here)” and they would start talking like old friends...

Despite still not feeling well, I was able to keep pace with Nat, although I could tell I was working harder than she was most of the time. She was moving along at a nice steady rhythm and looking strong the whole time. The course was filled with amazing views, excellent and somewhat technical single track, double track, wide open smooth rock flat mountain top trails, and a few long gravel road sections, making for a nice variety.

At about the 90km mark was a steep descent to an aid station only to return up the same way we came down. We started down the rocky technical downhill and Nat led the way, setting a great pace. I struggled to keep up as she continued to gain speed and confidence as we bombed down the mountain. It seemed that the further we got down the mountain, the stronger and faster Nat got and the more I struggled. The aid station at the bottom was both a literal and figurative low point in the race for me. I struggle to remember a time I’ve felt this bad in any long distance race. I was spent and not entirely clear on why or how to make it better. I ate and drank and just tried to calm my body down, but things were not getting better. I suggested to Nat that she should just head out without me, as we guessed that she was likely in the top 5 women at this point,  to which she kindly (but firmly) informed me that she wanted to stay with me and help me keep going, as long as I was willing. So I asked her for a few more minutes of rest before heading out to the big climb back up. As we finally started to climb back up the mesa, we soon saw 3 women coming down to the aid station. I felt bad for Nat, as I knew I had cost her an extra 10 minutes or so at the aid station and now there were a few women hot on her heels. Surprisingly, I felt better on the climb out than I had felt on the descent, so I tried to pick up the pace a little to get some of that time back that we had lost, while taking a few short breaks as we climbed.

Night fell quickly as we continued on this climb. I slowly started to feel better as we kept a quick but steady fast-hiking pace in the somewhat technical single-track trails. I felt like we could make good time in the night as it’s something that we are quite used to doing in AR. So I just focused on moving forward without pushing myself into a big energy deficit. Meanwhile, Nat just plugged away, always looking strong and being positive and supportive.

We finally arrived at the final “section” of the race, which consisted of 3 loops (red, white, and blue) all leaving and finishing at the same aid station before heading for the finish line. Here we would potentially get a better sense of how many women were ahead or close behind us on the course. As we arrived, Nat spotted one woman who seemed to be already starting the blue trail, meaning she was likely a couple hours ahead. Then out of the dark came an older woman who had passed us before dark – earlier she had gone by us jogging uphill on a gravel road, which was quite impressive considering her age and the point in the race. We assumed that she was completing the red trail, which meant she had put 8km on us. But she informed Nat that she had blown up on the trail and was just coming in to the aid station for the first time (like us). Needless to say, this put a little fire under Nat’s butt. The best description for the rest of the ~40km of the race from this point on is “running scared”. Nat set a fast hiking pace on all the uphills and ran all the flats and downhills - certainly faster than I think I would have done if I were running alone at that point. Each time back into the aid station was just like old times in AR – Nat transitioning very quickly, then checking her watch and impatiently waiting to get moving.

As we finally left the last aid station for the last time, Nat was convinced that the older woman would show up any time and blow past us. We headed out for what was listed as a 10km leg to the finish line. Shortly after leaving we both ran into blister problems. I could feel that the entire tip of my little toe on my left foot was blistered like a water balloon and with each step I could feel the swooshing of the fluid, expecting it to pop with each step (which it eventually did). Nat rarely gets blisters, but had been struggling with very sore feet from the pounding on the road, so she changed shoes when we first got to the last aid station and it appeared that this was not a good decision. Less than 1km after leaving on the leg to the finish her blister popped and it was clearly very painful. She screamed and hopped and stumbled, but refused to stop, fearing that we would be caught any minute by the woman behind. Instead she just focused on watching the kms to the finish roll down on her GPS watch. She had also given me my assignment – keep looking back to see if the other woman was coming.

The next 10kms were a combination of excitement to finish, agony over blisters and the beating our bodies had taken, worry about who may be catching up, and a very narrow focus on just getting to the finish line. Nat continued to check her watch every few minutes, always disappointed by how little ground we had covered since the last time she checked. We passed a few guys along the way, most of whom Nat knew from earlier in the race. Finally we got to the 158km mark of the race. Nat proudly exclaimed that there were only 2kms left and set her focus on just pushing through them. Almost as soon as she made this remark, we encountered a support person coming up the trail towards us. Surely this was a good sign that we were close. He gave us a big smile and a congratulations, saying “Only 2.5 miles to go!” Wait WHAT???? Surely he meant 2.5kms… So Nat asked him again for the distance. He showed us on his GPS watch and then informed us that the race was, in fact, not 100 miles, but actually over 102 miles. Nobody had informed us of this, and Nat was clearly wrecked by this news. She had carefully calculated her energy to give it all she had to get to the finish line and with 2km to go, after nearly 26 hours of running, the finish line moved by nearly 4kms. The next few kms were a combination of exhaustion, frustration, fear of being passed, and physical agony from expecting to be off our feet by then. Each time we would crest a hill, we expected to be able to see the finish line in the distance, only to be met by another hilltop ahead. When we finally did see the finish line off in the distance, the feeling was mainly one of relief. Nobody close behind and downhill all the way to the finish line.

We crossed the line in just over 26 hours and 10 minutes. After asking race officials and getting the printouts, Nat was informed that she had finished 3^rd among the women (finishing about 50 minutes ahead of the 4^th place woman) and 35^th and 36^th overall. She ran a great technical and tactical race, took good care of her body, and was even willing to give up her race to help me get to the finish line. While it was not the race I was hoping for, I’m very happy that Nat and I ended up running most of it together, and I know that she enabled me to finish much faster than I could have finished if I had raced alone. It’s truly amazing to witness her pushing her limits and persevere through everything. And although we have raced together in France and now at Zion, I am very impressed by the fact that in both cases she has insisted on doing these ultras completely on her own – refusing to take even a piece of food from me during the race. While the merits of teamwork are endless, there’s something very empowering about knowing you were able to achieve a personal goal all on your own. Congratulations and Thank You to Nathalie for this race.