Sky Pilot 23km Race Report

Looking back to earlier in the year, I didn’t have any long-term plans to run this race. I registered last minute because I wanted to get some practice carrying a bunch of mandatory gear and I had some visions about how nice it would be to race with views of the Squamish river and coast mountains. Neither of those things ended up happening. I also thought it would be good training for my upcoming 110km #whistleralpinemeadows to do a tough, technical race like Sky Pilot on tired legs coming off a solid week of training.

In the week leading up to the race, I set a Grouse Grind PB on Tuesday, had my best ever Stanley Park Beaver Lake workout (1k,3k,2k,1k) on Thursday, and put in a solid track session on Saturday (800m and 400m repeats). Everything was coming up roses in terms of training, but it was unclear whether I would be able to truly compete on Sunday or whether the fatigue would be too much. So, I felt a bit of uncertainty heading into the race with no taper, but with this passage from John L. Parker in mind: “When you are beaten by an athlete running through, it means you are owned by him body and soul. The Fixed Order will have been established in a most definitive way, to be altered only by some felonious conduct, possibly involving antipersonnel mines.”

Another major factor that would play out in a big way for me was the weather. The original course included an out-and-back to the Mount Habrich summit ridge on some technical and exposed terrain, and the race directors decided in collaboration with SAR personnel that it would be unsafe to send runners out that way in the rain that was pouring on race day. The decision was to replace the Sky Pilot valley section of the race with a second loop of the much less technical and exposed Shannon Basin loop. In addition, the mandatory gear was no longer necessary, which meant I wouldn’t get the practice with it I was hoping for, but I was honestly relieved that I wouldn’t have to carry all that stuff. I didn’t know it at the time of the announcement, but this course modification was one of the major factors in my victory on race day.

I had no expectations for placing because I didn’t know who else would show up, and I certainly had no expectations of my time since we would be running a brand-new modified course. I had brought a bunch of clothing to the race, giving myself some options for last-minute gear decisions depending on the conditions, but decided on pretty much the most minimal option. Singlet, split shorts, running gaiters, my King of the Mountain cap, and a 500ml foldable bottle in my pocket that was empty at the start.

The race started, and we went out on the very runnable Panorama loop with me in an early lead. Then, we looped back to the lodge and started our way up the more technical Al’s Habrich route, involving wet tree roots, granite slabs, and some really big deadfall. The pace slowed at that point, but I was still comfortable leading, and two other runners came with me and we split off from the rest of the field. At that early stage, without knowing much about the course, I figured that the three of us would run the whole thing together and battle it out for places on the podium in the last couple kilometres. It ended up being much more exciting than that.

This race gave me an opportunity to experience some camaraderie within racing that I hadn’t seen before. After I made a brief wrong turn (not a big deal: I corrected myself within a couple seconds) the runner behind me, a Squamish local realizing I was unfamiliar with the trails, talked me through the remainder of the course. He let me know where the hardest sections were, and what to expect out of the climbs and descents. I appreciated that a competitor would do that and am not sure if I can honestly say that I would have done the same if our roles were reversed. That’s something for me to reflect on.

We eventually reached the apex of our lollipop on Al’s Habrich and started making our descent back towards the lodge, and that’s when things got dicey for me and exciting for everyone else. This part of the course involved descending down exposed and steep granite slabs that had been getting rained on all morning. I’m a wuss on slabs on a good day, and I wasn’t hungry enough for a win here to risk a fall on this section which would have been at best a slip onto the rock with my tailbone, or at worst, a dozen feet of tumbling down the slab. I eased way, way off the pace and ended up in eighth place by the time we eventually found our way back onto the gravel service road.

This was a déjà vu back to the Buckin’ Hell 50k where I had a similar experience of falling behind on an early-race descent, but I recognized that this situation was even more urgent because I only had about 16 kilometres to make up the gap instead of the 40 I had during Buckin’ Hell. I really opened up on this road section and quickly made my first pass. I stopped at the 8km aid station to get 500mL of coke, half of which I ended up dumping on the side of the trail after realizing I wasn’t that thirsty. I hope coke is not too bad for the plants. All of the other lead men were wearing hydration vests, and I wondered whether they lost time like me at the aid station or just rolled through. Over the next kilometre, I contemplated the energy and time tradeoffs of carrying your fluids vs filling up but didn’t come up with an answer.

The next few kilometers after the aid station were very runnable although bushwacky and I was moving pretty well. I hoped to start finding guys ahead of me after every corner but didn’t find any. I wondered if either I or everyone else had taken a wrong turn but realized that the most likely explanation was that I just lost a huge amount of time on the leaders by gingerly walking down the earlier slabs.

The course then followed the Wrinkle Rock trail, and I passed another runner as we both hiked up some steep terrain. I continued to make my way back towards the lodge by way of some steep slabs, assisted by fixed ropes. The course map was foggy in my brain at that point, and I really hoped we didn’t have to eventually come back down this way. Thankfully we didn’t. I passed by the lodge, enjoyed some of the cheering from spectators and staff hanging out at the finish and set off for my second loop of the Shannon Basin (counter-clockwise this time) in sixth place with about 9km to go. I finally had a good idea of what the remainder of the course would be like and I was hopeful, feeling like it suited my strengths well.

So, I set off back down the road and was once again disappointed that I didn’t find anyone to pass given how fast I was moving. It really hit home for me again how much of a gap opened on the initial descent. The guys ahead of me were seriously fast on that type of terrain and I clearly have a lot to learn and practice. Just like the first lap, it wasn’t until I got onto an uphill that I saw a runner ahead, and this gave me a boost of adrenaline to really focus and grind my way up. I passed three people on this hike/run section, all of whom were very gracious and offered some kind of verbal support as I went by. I think I tried to say something good to each of them, but I don’t think I’m very articulate when I’m running uphill.

I started the bushwhack section hoping to catch a glimpse of the leaders, but this area got pretty hectic. There were runners coming in the opposite direction who were either in the 15km race that had started an hour after us, or 23km runners still on their first lap, in addition to a few day hikers out there suffering in the rain. There was room for only one person abreast on this trail, so there was a lot of running through bushes and frantically getting out of each other’s way. I didn’t notice at the time but would later find my shoulders and legs covered in cuts and scrapes from this trail-sharing dance.

I finally saw the second-place runner ahead of me, getting closer every time he reappeared around a corner or over the crest of a hill. I passed him as the trail widened briefly and immediately saw the leader not far ahead, feeling pretty good about my chances in that moment. I caught him almost as soon as we got onto the road section and as I went by, in a moment of doubt, asked him if he was actually leading. He reported that he was, and then like a true gentleman told me “and now you are.”

I was pretty thirsty as I started running out front but, knowing that there was only a couple of kilometers left and how tight the race was, I blew through the aid station without stopping. My lead grew pretty convincingly over this final section, but I had some final, fleeting moments of panic and doubt about the course as I went on. Was the aid station further from the end than I thought? Do we still have to do another 9 km loop? But I finally started seeing the familiar sights of the finish and heard some announcements on the PA system about the winner approaching the finish line, who was I was pretty sure was me. I took a last glance over my shoulder, saw that there was no one chasing me, and finally let it all sink in. I ran into the finish chute with a big smile on my face and happily got one of the famous Garry Robins handshakes/hugs. 2:18:21 was the official result, not that that means anything on a modified course, 27 seconds ahead of second place.

I’m still pretty stoked about this result because it’s my first time winning a trail race, and actually my first time winning a race of any kind since high school. Luck had something to do with it, because I’m almost certain that I would not have been as successful on the original course up the Sky Pilot valley, so I’m thankful that things went unpredictably my way. Thanks to my competitors for a great race, the @coastmtntrail staff for putting together an awesome event despite the weather conspiring against them, and to all the volunteers who stood for hours out in the rain to make everything go smoothly.