Run Ridge Run Race Report

For the second year in a row, I ran the 13km event at the Run Ridge Run trail race at Sasamat Lake in Port Moody, B.C. hosted by Coast Mountain Trail Running. Last year, we raced in about a foot of snow, and I slid around the course to take third place in a time of 1:11:58. I also gained a bit of notoriety that year for running through the snow in a singlet and 2-inch split shorts, a thin pair of gloves being my only concession to the wintery conditions.

In 2020, I came back to Run Ridge Run with some knowledge about the course and was excited to take a shot at the course record since it would be the first year with no snow on the ground.

Dramatis Personae

Dylan Gant First place in 2019, strong athletics background but also represented Canada at the 2008 World Mountain Running Championships in the uphill event.

Samuel Perrin Second place in 2019, dedicated trail runner, represented Canada as a junior at the 2019 World Mountain Running Championships, teenager.

Me Third place in 2019, road runner who pretends to be a trail runner in a couple races per year.

Race Preparation

Ever since returning from the Pacific Crest Trail last fall, I progressed smoothly with my running training with the Vancouver Falcons Athletic Club. I did fine in a few fundraising events and fun runs through the fall and early part of winter, but had my first real test of the season at the First Half Half Marathon. There, I ran 1:12:10 to better my personal best by over a minute, which I was really pleased with. And I felt confident going into Run Ridge Run after that result.

Having said that, I had done literally zero technical trail running since last September. So, although I knew I was fit, I wasn’t sure how I would be held back by my lack of practice with that skill.

My training leading up to the race was my standard stuff since starting to train with Coach John Hill: 100 or so kilometres per week including a tempo run, a short interval workout, and a long interval workout.

I went into the race with the intention of being competitive but knew that, as always with these small-ish local events, you never really know who’s going to show up on race day to battle it out with you.

Because the bus to Sasamat Lake doesn’t run early in the morning and I don’t own a car, I had dreamed up a plan to start jogging to the start from the SkyTtrain station with my thumb out, hoping that my $200 running vest would convince other racers that I wasn’t a crazy vagrant and could be trusted with a ride. Thankfully, my clubmate Felix offered to drive me so it didn’t come to that. I felt stoked that there would be four of us from VFAC racing, since we’re generally a road running club.

Race Morning

I’ve learned that most trail runners tend to just kind of mill around before the start of the race. The whole thing is just more casual than the road and track races I’m used to. But I like to get into the usual routines I’ve been doing for every race since high school track, even if just for the comfort of familiarity: 15-minute jog, ABCs, leg swings, and strides.

I managed to stay pretty calm and loose for the morning, chatting with my clubmates and listening to Gary Robbins’ pre-race spiel which I’ve pretty well memorized after a couple years of doing his events. But after the 23km race set off 15 minutes before my event, I purposefully let the nerves and butterflies start to take over.

I think adrenaline and stress are an important part of racing well, but only if the runner controls them properly. Too much of it boiling up in the hours and days before the race will leave the runner feeling burnt out even before the race is run. But without that surge of nervousness when the gun goes off, the runner loses the competitive edge that allows us to far exceed in races what we ever felt like we could accomplish in training.

As we were called to the start line I recognized Dylan and Samuel from last year and knew that there would be a real battle up at the front. A strategy started forming in my head.

The Race – We’re Off! (0-2 km)

We set off along beach next to the lake and I didn’t hesitate to move right up front and set the pace. I knew that the first two to three kilometers of the race were on relatively flat unpaved roads where my strengths would shine. After that, I would have difficulty keeping up with Dylan and Samuel’s strengths on the technical trails. So if I wanted to have a shot, I would have to at the very least ensure an honest pace right from the start.

I remembered how I had had a similar plan last year, but was disappointed then when Dylan was able to simply run away from me. So this year I felt relieved when he settled in behind my shoulder and I could tell he was working pretty hard. The two of us left the rest of the field behind as we circled around the lake. We ran on an especially beautiful section on a floating bridge across the lake and I think I even made a comment about it being “not bad” or something. It’s funny how there’s always a bit of chatting in just the first 10% or so of races when everyone’s feeling good.

As soon as we finished the loop of the lake, we started climbing, with 300 metes over the next 5 kilometers ahead of us. At that point, Dylan started to drop me, clearly a better uphill runner than me. So I resolved to at least keep him in sight and maintain contact as we started to pass the slowest runners from the 23km race.

The Race – The  Tough, Stupid, Endless Middle (2-7 km)

I let my mind wander on the concept of “contact” in different types of races. On the track, as soon as someone gets away from you by four or five stride lengths, you’re probably never going to get him again, barring some Act of God. In a road race, you at least want to be able to see the runner in front of you before he disappears around the next corner if you want to have any hope of catching him. On trails, however, if you can hear the course marshals cheering for – or ringing cowbells at – the runner ahead or behind you, the race is still on.

And so I maintained contact as we slogged up to the top of the ridge, trying to balance urgency and politeness as I asked to pass the 23km runners on the single track. I kept Dylan in sight and wasn’t aware of anyone behind me, but I knew I would be in danger on any technical descents, my weakest running discipline.

When we finally reached the top of the climb, I was happy to split off from the 23km course and get some extra space. That was also when we passed the water station. Even though I was thirsty I opted to just blow through it, knowing that I didn’t have the time to spare. I recognize why the Coast Mountain Trail races have decided to go cupless to reduce waste. But an unfortunate consequence of that is that the elite field is basically forced to forego using the aid stations in these shorter events, because races are won and lost in the time that it takes to fill a bottle.

The Race – We’ve Got Ourselves a Real Race Now! (7-10 km)

As the decent started, I opened up and let gravity carry me down the switchbacks towards Buntzen Lake. I felt like I was moving pretty well, but something told me that it wasn’t fast enough. Sometimes I think that I’m able to tap into a primal predator/prey instinct on trail races, able to sense runners behind or ahead of me even when I can’t explicitly hear or see them. But then sometimes I think I’m probably just hallucinating.

But eventually my hallucinations became a little more real, and Samuel came right up behind me as we descended down a a dicey creek bed towards the shore of the lake. We’ve got ourselves a real race now! Thankfully, that’s when we came onto a flat-ish unpaved road and I was able to maintain my position. I saw Dylan up ahead, closer than expected, and encouragingly told Samuel that I thought we could get him. I dropped into a faster gear and slowly reeled him in.

But way too soon, the three of us blew through another aid station without stopping and were climbing again up some singletrack for the next 2 kilometers. Dylan powered up out of view and Samuel and I slogged up mostly together. There was a lot of gasping and grunting from both of us and nothing was pretty at this point.

The Race – Endgame (10-13 km)

We found sweet relief at the top of the climb, but it was bittersweet because I knew I was in trouble when I saw what lay ahead. It was steep downhill technical single track and there was no way I would be able to hold my position. Sure enough, Samuel went by me in a flash, falling his way down the hill with the fluidity of natural trail runners that I’ve often envied.

Did he remember passing me at almost that exact same spot a year earlier, I wondered?

I accepted that I wouldn’t be winning this race, but knew I had to stay focused or risk losing my spot on the podium. I struggled to stay in the moment, distracted by thoughts of the finish. But thankfully, neither my “primal instincts”, hallucinations, nor actual senses detected anyone behind me. I finally made it to the parking lots that were a sign of the final stretch and embarrassingly almost fell down some stairs right after a course marshal told me to be careful.

I ran through the parking lot and down to the beach and really soaked in the atmosphere from the cheering spectators, the announcer calling out my name, and seeing my proud parents taking photos along the finishing chute. It was a good moment. I came in third in 1:04:45, almost four minutes faster than the old course record.

Post-Race and Discussion

Dylan, Samuel, Gary, and I had a fun little debrief meeting at the finish line, talking about how things all played out. I learned that Samuel caught Dylan on the final steps with only about 100 metres to go and took the win. Congratulations to both of them on great races.

I hung around the finish area and felt stoked to see my VFAC clubmates Felix and Sean have great races, and Lissa come third in the women’s race. Great day for little athletics club out there on the trails.

I’m really happy with how this race went, feeling satisfied I did everything I could and left everything out there. I pushed Dylan and Samuel hard on the runnable sections, playing my part to keep it an honest race. And ultimately Samuel’s skill in downhill technique won him the day, which I just couldn’t compete with.