The Blackspur Marathons #50shadesoftrailrunning

Myself and brother, both finished the 108k

Views from the top of Leg 1

DISCLAIMER: If you have not seen the documentary 'The Barkley Marathons', you will not get most of this humor.  So please, open Netflix, watch the movie, and then read this.

Some of you know the infamous Brian (or Laz as he should be named) Gallant.  He's the guy that created the now hellish Sinister 7 course with it's 18% finish rate.  He is the mastermind behind the Blackspur 108K Mountain Ultra, and if you need one race to make your season a success, it should be this one.

I arrived on the Friday early for check-in.  I won't be surprised if the price of registration next year is a license plate, and a pair of socks.  Did I mention this course is insane (or required someone insane to come up with it)? I made sure to pick up my Blackspur coffee mug at the same time as my race bag, then did I quick drive down the mountain to Purcell Outdoors to pick up a few other necessities (Purcell Outdoors: For all your outdoor and trail running needs!). Alright, enough product plugs, and into the race report (but seriously, Purcell Outdoors has two employees that are dogs, how awesome is that right?).

Leg 1 trail pic

Saturday Morning.  The race starts at 8am, and I half expect Laz Gallant to start us of by blowing a conch shell. I really shouldn't be giving him any ideas.  The race begins, and I feel like a dumpster fire.  I'd solo'd the Death Race two weeks Prior, and done the Emperor's Challenge mountain half marathon the week before.  My body was torched.  Nevertheless, I barrel up the side of the ski hill, with a few hundred other people who lack common sense.  After a few clicks on the road, we begin the grunt up the ski hill.  I live for this.  I hate running, and this is a welcome break.  We get to the top, only to go partway down again, then climb back up to the top (just in case your spirit wasn't broken by the first climb).  I'm feeling kind of blah as I get to the aid station, grab a handful of jelly bellies, and barrel down the mountain, kamikaze style.  There are roots, rocks, and trees carefully littered across the path to trip us up and thin the herd a bit.  A few people around me go heels to Jesus, but I stay upright all the way down to the bottom.  Leg 1 is done.  I feel pretty rough.  I only have one speed, and it's fast, all the other gears in my body have  an 'out of order sign'.  Tapering must be more important than I realize.

Leg 2.  I make sure to eat a few hundred calories, as I head out once again, up the cursed ski hill. Did I mention, we pay to do this?  Finally there is a 300m flat section before we begin climbing the mountain on switchbacks.  At the top, we are once again greeted with more roots and rocks.  This is starting to hurt the bottoms of my feet.  Luckily for me, we get to run some pristine downhill switchbacks, with only a few tripping hazards before coming into the aid station.  The second aid station is my secret weapon.  My people are staffing it.  They remember 'Ever Sexy' from blackfoot earlier in the year, and give me water laced with some kind of banned life giving substance.  I barrel out of the second aid station, and am running like a madman, high on whatever goodies were in the water on aid station two.  A few quick climbs, and we get to once again descend the ski hill to finish leg 2.  Anyone know why they aren't using the ski lift for this?  It would make life much easier, just sayin'.

'Not actual dog employee'

Leg 3.  We climb the bloody ski hill again.  Leg three is super easy though.  Its a 20K cross country run.  A few climbs, a few descents.  Pristine trail.  Or so I thought.  At this point my body hates me.  I have zero energy, but have to keep running.  There is a short climb, then basically a run all the way down to the aid station.  There is a glorious stretch of 'road' right before the aid station, downhill grade super runnable, and long.  I'm sick of running, so luckily after the aid station Laz has us climbing the last 9K.  He's a great guy.  Legs finally rested, I crest the top of the last climb, and end up on the cross country running trails.  The chair lift still isn't working, so I run down the cursed ski hill again, and leg 3 is done.

Leg 4. We get to repeat leg 1.  Leg 1 was very enjoyable the first time.  In the 6 hours since I was last on it, the race director's minion must have watered the roots, and turned up a few more rocks. I find all of them.  If it wasn't for my trekking poles, I may not be here today writing this post.  Did you know that you can buy everything you need for your outdoor adventures at 'Purcell Outdoors'?  Purcell Outdoors, they have dog employees (and they are super cute!).  Down the bloody ski hill we go..again (did I mention how much fun this is??).  Finally, about 9 hours into this mess, my legs start to work properly, and my spirits lift dramatically, just in time for the final descent to the transition area.  Can someone please man the chair lifts? 

Leg 5.  Still burning daylight, and feeling pretty good vibes, I head out on 5.  This time I feel like the course has been paved, probably by the good folks at Purcell Outdoors (Imagine dogs driving paving equipment!!! cute right??).  I'm practically dancing as I get to the aid station on 5, where there is some kind of rave going on.  These are my kind of people!  I was feeling pretty lit going into the aid station, I'm on fire leaving it (the DJ at the aid station is on point, what kind of aid stations have DJ's??) Leaving the aid station I can't believe it is still all downhill, with nary  root to be found (again, dogs with shovels and hard hats digging up roots, how cute??!!).  Towards the end of the leg, we get the usually descent down the hellish slope, and leg 5 is done.  It is still light out!!!

The Author?

Leg 6.  At this point, I've been told I'm in second.  That is all I know.  Third place is right behind me I'm sure and first place is probably already done, having beers with the dog employees at Purcell Outdoors. My wife/pit crew/aid station/amazing person, has my food ready to go, a new hydration vest full and ready, a spare head torch in the bag, and enough calories on hand to feed a small nation.  I'm feeling super good vibes at this point.  This course has beat me up, wrecked my ankles with rocks and roots, challenged who I am at a personal level, and just been tough, but  I am stoked to be on the last leg, and act accordingly.  I am a running fool.  Aside from the hellish climb up the ski hill for the 6th time, I run all the way to the aid station, only needing my headlamp for the glorious stretch of 'road' leading into it.  The volunteers seem genuinely surprised to see me, I know I looked bad 7 hours ago, but it must have been really bad!  I exchange pleasantries while blinding them with my flood lamp, and begin the climb up the last 9k to the finish.  This is where it gets bad.  About 30 minutes from the aid station, and my head torch goes.  I sweat so much, that it caused the lamp to stroke out... crap.  Lucky for me, I have the worlds worst spare in my bag, only problem is, I can't find the new batteries.  This thing went for 5 hours of the Death Race two weeks prior.  Its not giving much light, so I probably have about an hour before I'm running with my iphone lamp.  I have never, ever, run hills that fast.  I imagine it looked like a scene out of the 'Blair witch'.  Me running around, yelling at the squirrels (or 'nut bears' as I called them), breathing heavily, constantly looking in each direction, trying not to get lost. I have never been as happy to see a golf course as I was when I saw the Trickle Creek course 3k from the finish.  At this point, I was in euphoria, my legs no longer hurt, I was running strong, and I knew in 20 minutes, I would have a cold beer in my hand, and my vengeance for my failure at Sinister 7 earlier in the season.  I hit the streetlights on the cross country trails (turned off of course), and basically floated to the top of the ski hill descent.  As I descended, I could hear the three people still awake cheering for me, and it was transcendent. I crossed the finish line, and Lazarus put the groovy little Spur medal on my neck, and I knew, at that moment, I had conquered the Blackspur Marathons.....until next year.

A few quick things in closing.

1- You need to run this race.  It is by far my favorite, as the course is technical, difficult, and generally awesome.  The Alpine resort in Kimberley in probably the best spot in the world to host an ultra marathon.

2- If you are in the area, check out Purcell Outdoors.  I'm not affiliated in anyway with them, but they are equal opportunity employers, that employ two pretty awesome dogs (and if you tell the owner 'the Ever Sexy Ghost Runner' sent you, you'll save 0%!).  And yes, while I've been away running and training this past little while, I miss my two dogs at home (Diego, Bing, if you're reading this, I am coming home!).

3- Race directors I'm starting to think, may be Sadists, or serial killers.  They just think a quick death is too boring, and would rather have us pay for it (what does that say about us #50shadesoftrailrunning), and spread it out over 24 hours (or 30).  In the next few years, I suspect to see this course made more difficult to keep down the finish rate (maybe toss in a few alligators, a few more hills, or the entire maze from 'Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade?), so get in now.  I hope to see you all at this amazing painful patch of dirt next year.  I'l alsobe at the Moose Mountain Trail Marathon in Bragg Creek on August 26, and the Iron Horse 100 mile on September 30th.

Crush you goals,

The Ever Sexy Canadian Ghostrunner

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