I did the Death Race last weekend. Let’s just get it over with and admit I finished in a time of 22:07:48. Not my best time, but not my worst. I am comfortable with it. My goal time was 23 hours. My friend Mike had told me his goal was 22 hours, and part of me became jealous of that idea.
Last year, I failed to finish the Sinister 7. It taught me something very important; ultramarathons are not easy. I had been taking them for granted. Now, I go in and work to keep moving. I do my best to minimize the time in transitions. I’ve figured out what to eat (protein balls and hammer gel, with occasional soup) and what to drink (water and gatorade).
I’ve also figured out that the Death Race is very poorly organized. Chiefly, that I cannot trust the aid stations. I have no idea what will be in them, hopefully water and Gatorade. But beyond that, they usually just have sugar. Which might be good for a team runner, but not for a soloist! The Sinister 7 gave me a sheet detailing what each aid station would be serving. It was great! But the Death Race seems to pander more to the teams instead of the soloist. They only use us for advertising.
I attended the mandatory pre-race meeting, but I got bored and left halfway through. I had seen it all four times before, and even the announcer looked bored. I think this was his thirteenth time doing it.
There was a program called Passport to the Peaks. Basically, you get a passport and then on the top of mountains there are cairns with stamps. You can stamp your passport to prove you’ve been there. Once you’ve done all six of them, you can upgrade to the next passport. Three of the mountains are covered by the Death Race. I checked on getting one, but the tourist centre was out. They did say that if I took pictures of myself next to the cairns, they could pre-stamp my passport when they did get them in. Sounds simple enough.
On the morning of the race, the weather was nicely overcast. The announcements were made with all the local politicians trying to get in on the act. So we started late. They reset the start timer to compensate, but we officially began running at about 8:04 in the morning.
I started out well. My toe wasn’t bothering me. I did feel a little off though. I don’t think I was completely recovered from the Sinister 7 four weeks before. Or the Tour de l’Alberta two weeks before. Still, I made it to the end by my expected time. And I kept up with my fast female friend.
The end of Leg 1 was a nightmare of people. I had a hard time finding my support person, AKA my mother. I didn’t bother to fill up my water backpack as it looked too busy to even contemplate that, and I hadn’t drunk much. I then went to march up the first mountain on Leg 2.