Six Days in the North
“A thousand kilometres is really, really far”
Written by Matt “Shep” Shepard
Race Planning/Organization:
We arrived at the Legion Track & Field in Grande Prairie, Alberta around 1pm on Tuesday. The short 60min drive was a welcomed change from our normal race commute of 8+ hours. As the Race Director / Coordinator, we were charged with the task of setting up the event space. With the forecasted rain, we were in over our heads and we hadn’t even begun. Our setup was complete with snack/aid station table, rain sheltered charging station, indoor space for rolling stretching and body care, live feed camera with rain shelter and one lonely heater to share between 3 rain-drenched runners and our sole crew member. We set up timing on both sides of the track to act as a redundancy, in case one system failed us (score one for the home team). One system was connected to constant power and the other system was powered by a small generator. Both setups were also linked to independent cell phones which required frequent monitoring to ensure data was being uploaded and recorded throughout the event. We finished our setup around 10pm and called it a night. I was thankful for the late 9am start (another win for team Shep)
We had set the intention to not get too excited or wired about the event to come. To take everything that was to come with a grain of salt and maintain a level head. This plan worked perfectly and allowed me to banks a solid night of sleep Tuesday. Usually, the day before a race begins with a long drive and is full of last minute preparation for the event ahead. These pre-race tasks can lead to increased adrenaline and anxiety which can disrupt my ability to sleep. Keeping level throughout the day allowed for a calm evening and a great sleep, another huge success in this week-long journey.
Day 1:
The weather forecast called for a record breaking rainfall for the region; over 37mm! Not too cold though and only a mild 20 km/h wind. Poor drainage on the inside edge of the track combined with a deluge overnight left the track flooded, forcing us to choose between running through the 2″ deep moat or accept the additional distance and run in the third or forth lane, far out from the certified, measured line. I choose the extra distance, which in retrospect was silly since my feet were constantly soaked anyway.
Late in the first day, a good samaritan began to clear the drainage issues with his hands, pulling up grass and soil to allow the water to flow into the field. Realizing the incoming rainwater was still outpacing the drains, he went home to get a shovel. When he returned, he dug small channels all around the track and uncovered the blocked drain! This was huge. I could visibly see the water level dropping on the track, allowing access to lanes 2 & 3 and by the close of the first day we were running in lanes 1 & 2, much closer to the measured line.
From the start of the race I was making frequent washroom breaks. This is pretty typical for my first few hour, usually feeling the urge every 30 to 60 minutes. I note this because these small breaks add up when racing against the clock. In an effort to maintain dry feet, I cycled through all 5 pairs of shoes that first day. Additional time was lost in this first day spent drying my feet and nursing a blister on my pinky toe.
Despite the delays, I was able to keep a steady pace and my first “real” break was approximately 5 hours in. Personal Peak was hosting foot guru, Dr. John Vonhof, on the live update show, which couldn’t have been better timing as we were all suffering from some degree of foot issues. I took a break from the rain to join the zoom call and tend to my newly developing pinky toe blister. What luck, the universe provides, eh?
I was able to keep my calm in the midst of many obstacles that first day. I opted to sleep early in the first night to dodge the remainder of the forecasted rain and allow my waterlogged feet and shoes a chance try dry. As predicted, in the early hours of the morning the rain calmed. I was so happy to be running again. My feet were dry. I was in the zone. 3am, the world is calm and I am zen. Suddenly, I am jolted back to reality when the field’s ill adjusted sprinklers sprung to life, dealing a harsh spray of cold water directly to my face and chest. Good morning. I am now awake and alert. Stripped of my comfortable dry clothes, I am pulled out of the zen space I had struggled to hold onto all day. Blinded by frustration, I went into the field, which at this point was more like a lake, and faced off with that useless sprinkler. I stomped on it’s pop-up head, surfing back into the ground like a life-sized game of whack-a-mole. It sprung back and continued to water the track and a small portion of nearby grass. I guess that made me feel a little better even though it changed nothing. I continued, noting the new sloshing in my shoes, a steady reminder of my encounter with the sprinkler.
Sprinkler: 2
Shep: 0
Overall, day one was success and finished the day ahead of pace for the National record of 870 km. I managed to stay consistent throughout and ended the day just over 100mi. This was slightly behind our goal, but good all things considered. We managed to bank a little extra sleep and planned to make up some more distance by skipping sleep in the later days of the race.
Day 2:
Day two is a kick in the shorts. I am not certain if this rings true for everyone. Perhaps this is a narrative I have created for myself, but I struggle with day two. As 9:00 am on Thursday rolls around and day two officially begins, I remain consistent. The rain was intermittent throughout the afternoon, coming in waves just heavy enough to question whether it was worth stopping to put on a jacket. The afternoon would see more breaks than necessary. 10 minutes here 15 minutes there, washroom breaks, foot care, etc. In total I took about 6.5 hours in stretch, food and sleep breaks. Mentally, I justified this because I had originally planned 6-7 hours of rest on day two! I forget that I had not planned to sleep in day one and that meant I could not afford the additional rest on day two. In my mind, I do the math and think “I can make up for the extra rest on day three or day four when I feel stronger and the weather forecast looks favourable”. Your mind can be crafty in its persuasion. When you are feeling the pull of comfort, you want to believe that there is a better way. You want to believe that you’re making the best decisions, but your mind has a way of hijacking that process and convincing you that comfort is the right choice, the smart choice. I mean, it’s technically my idea and I’m a smart guy, right?
At some point during the afternoon of day two, my watch band broke. At this point, I’m still enjoying the fact that the rain has mostly subsided and the standing water on the track has receded to the better half of lane 1, which felt like enough of a reason to celebrate. I’ve forgotten about my broken watch; it’s nice not to have anything on my wrist. It would be several hours later before I began to miss that quick confirmation that I am still following the minimum pace. I don’t even know what time it is. How long have I been running? Is it supper time yet? Am I drinking enough water? Cue the anxiety. Take a break and collect yourself.
For the remainder of the day, I would call for a km check from my crew and realize I’m beginning to fall behind Canadian national record pace. We completely scrub the idea of a World Record or even 1000 kilometres. Our strategy had changed so many times I wasn’t sure where to anchor my focus or how to break the distance up into manageable pieces. I struggled to stay on pace. We would close out day two with a meager 106 km, bringing our total around 277 km, far below our projection and 13km or so behind record pace.
Day 3:
Day three brings renewed hope and a belief that I can overcome the deficit and finish stronger than I started. I begin the day with 2:30-2:50 laps, feeling great and excited to get back on pace. I was not sure if I had wasted too much time the first two days, but I was determined to take this opportunity to catch up. I feel the positive energy beginning to flow again. We’re almost halfway and I’ve survived the dreaded day two, it gets easier from here.
Late in the morning the sun peaks out and spectators begin to stop by, offering us words of encouragement. I picked up the pace, fueled by the energy of the onlookers. Life is good. I am in my element. Several uneventful hour pass before I am once again snapped back to reality when a stabbing pain shoots through my knee, bringing me to the ground. I take an hour to assess the damage, stretch and apply a topical muscle cream. This pain persisted intermittently throughout the remainder of day three, prompting additional stretch and massage breaks and severely impacting my average moving pace. We moved my yoga mat and body care items to the edge of the track to reduce the amount of down time. Day 3 would see a mere 125 km added to the 277 km running total.
We are now approximately 404 kilometres in and 31 kilometres behind national record pace. I still have hope. I’ve banked lots of sleep in the first few days. I’m ready for some long, sleepless nights to make up some ground. I knew this would be hard, but I am ready.
Day 4:
I kick off day four with an hour of rest and then settle into a slightly slower 2:45-3:00 per lap pace. The pain in my knee graduated from an occasional sharp pain to a constant annoyance with a frequent sharp pain. I began to compensate by adjusting my foot strike to avoid internal foot roll, placing the majority of my weight on the outer portion of my left foot. There is a reason we don’t run like this and I should have known better. The constant impact to the outer portion of my foot caused significant swelling from my knee down to my toes. In particular, my ankle and foot had swollen so much that I had to unlace my shoe to accommodate. By the early afternoon, the pain was constant.
This was the turning point. I knew this was not going away and there was no chance I could fake it for another 400 kilometres. The national record had now moved well past the realm of possibility and I turned my focus to solving this knee issue and salvaging the final days of the race. This was a tough pill to swallow, but in a way it was a welcomed relief from the pain and pressure of this unforgiving race. I would cover 48 kilometres on the morning of day 4 before calling it quits and laying down for a 10 hour break. I spend the majority of this time sleeping, but not before I laid on my bed second guessing myself and wondering why I push myself to these places.
A physio friend of mine, Brain Sherk with Adventure Physio, stopped by to help me identify the issue and tape my knee. I take it for a few laps and although I am unable to run, I can manage a walk with little to no pain. I choose to rest for the night and hope the swelling subsides by morning.
Day 5:
Following a restorative 10 hour break, I would begin day five at 8am. Unable to run without pain, I am resigned to walking around the 400m track. I have now set my sights on beating my own personal best of 701 kilometres and I am feeling a renewed vigor. I continue my steady walking pace with as few interruptions as possible. I practiced everything I could while walking. I ate, I massaged my sore muscles, I even sent a few emails! Throughout the day I am feeling grateful to have the opportunity to experience day five of a six day event. Regardless of how this unfolds, this will be an experience for the cookie jar. The cookie jar is where I store all of my memories of the hard things I have accomplished, all the failures and all the pain I have experienced. No single challenge is greater than the sum of my cookie jar. Its a reminder that I have done hard things and I can do even harder things.
I would walk for a total of 18 hours on day five, taking just 2 hours of break for stretching before the pain and swelling would force me to shut it down around 3 am. My race is over. I am feeling defeated and grateful. It’s an interesting experience. I have a lot to unpack. I logged approximately 89 kilometres, bringing my running total to 540 kilometres.
Day 6:
I decide to start my day with an ice cream bar for breakfast, because my parents are no longer in charge of my dietary choices. I refuse to be a black cloud when I still have two amazing athletes running their biggest race to date. I pulled out my zero-gravity chair, hooked my phone up to the amplifier and DJ Shep-boyardee was born, spinning tracks and sending all the positive energy to my track mates. Although my race had ended early, my focus was on enjoying the amazing people who gave their time and energy to share in this event with me. Watching these athletes reach their personal best and beyond reminded me of my “why”. The answer to the question I ask myself when things get difficult. Why do you put yourself in these positions? If you can quit at any time, why do you continue?
The answer is simple. I do these things because I can. I love to run and move my body, but this was not always the case. Like the majority of North Americans, I was once overweight and found absolutely zero pleasure in exercise. Unlike most, I was able to drop those poor habits and find joy in fitness. I am not special, I didn’t discover a secret shortcut, I just started. One day at a time, I picked away at years of neglect and mistreatment of my body. I didn’t stop when I felt better, I didn’t stop when my pants fit, kept going and I will continue to keep going until I am the very best version of myself.
Day six brought a whopping 10.4 kilometres, bringing my inaugural Six Days in the North grand total to 551.2 kilometres. This event was full of unexpected twists and turns. This experience has taught me a lot about myself, my motivations and my goals moving forward. Although my knee will take some time to heal, I am certain that I have come out stronger than I was going in.