Words by others

"In general successful athletes focus on performance/winning, and then look at the pathways necessary to get to that point. Many amateur athletes look at the pathways more than they do at the goal." By Will Gadd, a self-described and world renowned "multi-sport mountain athlete" from Canmore Alberta.
He has an interesting blog, where he often talks about training principles and his views on performance from a variety of angles. I've enjoyed his recent string of posts, where I saw the above quote.
The quote comes back to the point that a lot of people want to know the secret formula, magic pill, or short cut that make the elite stand out, when in fact, regardless of the sport, successful athletes are successful largely because of their drive and work ethic, which some might call a sport/training approach, plan, or philosophy, directed at well defined goals. This is the meat and potatoes of their success, the rest is mostly chaff.
Of course innate talent also helps, but it is not a golden ticket on its own. There are lots of supposedly "talented" athletes, but few successful elites.

In reading Will's blog, I'm also reminded that it's useful to cast your information net broadly. You can get a lot useful, interesting and generalizable information from a wide range of sources, so stay curious and move beyond your usual resources and websites from time to time, I'm sure you'll find something of interest.
In fact, I'll go as far as to say that passion for a sport, or any topic for that matter, can be measured by a person's level of curiosity in that subject. When they stop asking questions and looking for answers, then their passion has probably died.
Not all the questions and answers need to, or should, come from books, journals, blogs etc... they can also come from the curiosity of exploring ones personal limits and seeking out new experiences. I guess this curiosity makes up the, "look(ing)at the pathways necessary to get to that point", that Will references above.

Prayer flags and regrets

I'm sitting at the desk in my basement suite, trying to read passages from the BC Law Society Professional Conduct handbook, but I'm more distracted by the rain outside. It's not that the various duties, responsibilities and ethical obligations of the profession don't interest me, quite the contrary, they do, because they form the basis for how I'm supposed to act and make decisions in my professional and personal life, it's just that the rain is really coming down, like it has for most of the spring on the coast and it's really loud.
The other thing that's distracting me, is a string of Nepalese prayer flags that I have hanging from the wall in my room. Rather than being a souvenir from a trip, or having a religious or spiritual meaning to me, the string is a reminder of a regret, which is why I have them in my room and not outside, where culturally, they belong (this opens a pdf doc). The string of flags also ties into my law school experience.
I've been spending quite a bit of time running in, around and up the North Shore mountains recently and the scenery and environment has reminded me how much I enjoy life in the mountains. Talking to Lauren in Davos and seeing her almost daily pictures of the Swiss Alps only reinforces that feeling. However the prayer flags remind me of a lost opportunity to experience the Nepalese Himalaya, arguably the ultimate mountain environment, in a very unique and significant way.
In 2007, I was invited by Jasper Blake and his wonderful family on a three week trek through Nepal to Everest base camp. What made the trip even more special, was that the team was going to help Pippa Blake, Jasper's mother, a kind, spirited and adventurous woman who is wheelchair bound with Multiple Sclerosis, live out her lifelong dream of visiting and trekking in the region with the help of a trail rider .
The team helping out formed the Rise Above Barriers Society and as a group, they would help push, pull, carry, laugh, cry, joke, walk, run, stumble, cough etc... their way through the foothills and up to base camp. Although I know the trek and effort was more challenging than many of them expected, with rugged terrain, lack of mobility, sickness and altitude all taking their toll, they persevered, made it base camp and helped a wonderful woman live out one of her dreams in a surreal setting. The trip was obviously very moving for all involved and has since inspired many other similar adventures. In sharing their journey through slide shows and media, they helped and encouraged disabled people to access the wild and remote places that they likely wouldn't be able to experience without a support network.
Upon his return, along with sharing stories and pictures, Jasper and other members of the team, brought me the string of flags now tacked to my wall.
Despite being honoured at being invited to share in the experience, I regretfully turned down the invitation. It was definitely not an easy decision and I knew what I would likely miss, but I was focused on getting into law school at the time and the trip would have interfered with my academic pursuits, delaying my entry.
Although I was able to get into school, achieving that goal, I can honestly say that I regret missing out on that experience every time I see the Blakes, hear of the region, or look at the prayer flags in my room.
As corny as it is to say, setting and achieving goals inevitably means making hard choices and perhaps some sacrifices along the way, but goals can also blind you to other opportunities, as was the case in this situation. I don't have many regrets, but missing this trip and, more importantly, the opportunity to help a friend is one of them.
So it's a bit ironic that I'm sitting here reading about professional and personal responsibilities, obligations and ethics in a handbook, when all I really need to do is to look at the prayer flags as a reminder of where my greater obligations should lie.

Run into the dawn

I'm about to start the Professional Legal Training Course (PLTC), which the British Columbia Law Society requires articling students to take before being admitted to the provincial Bar. It can generically be called the provincial "bar exam course."
Because I'm articling in Vancouver, I've decided to make the move to the mainland early and am now slowly getting settled in my basement suite in the city. The course begins on Tuesday and I really don't have a good feel for how much time and work it will be, although the box of readings that I just picked up might give me some indication. This makes my immediate race schedule a bit unpredictable. What I do know, is that I will be doing quite a few morning runs on the UBC trails, which are about a mile from my front door, before school. Afternoons and evenings will be reserved for readings and trips to the North Shore mountains for more rugged vertical and trail jaunts.
I just saw this video, (courtesy of Joe Grant) which captures the simplicity and beauty of "dawn patrol runs" perfectly. I agree that early mornings on the trail can have a meditative and at times spiritual feel to them, there's no better way to start the day. I'm looking forward to my morning sessions already:

RUN TO THE EAST film titles from The Wilderness on Vimeo.

Running tunes

Haven't done one of these in a while-"music with a running theme" (via Good People Run). Documentary following Jonny Corndawg, a touring country music singer who has been bitten by the running bug:

Stray Dawg from Sean Dunne on Vimeo.

Elk/Beaver Ultra-Canadian 50 Mile championship

In 2001, with about 6 months left in my degree, I dropped out of university, packed all my belongings into a duffel bag and a bike box, left my girlfriend behind and flew across the country to pursue my Olympic dream with the National Triathlon Centre in beautiful Victoria, British Columbia.
I arrived with two of my training partners from Kingston, Ontario on a cold and rainy January night with no place to stay and no real plans about how I was going to make it work. We were met at the airport by Simon Whitfield who had recently won the first Olympic triathlon gold medal and to say I was star struck would be an understatement. He was already a Canadian sports legend and was the main impetus for why I made the move out west. When he offered to let me crash at his place for a few nights, I probably stammered an incomprehensible yes.
After a restless night of alternating thinking: "what the fuck am I doing here?" and "holy crap I'm sleeping at Simon's place" things became a fair bit more simple when it was time to head out for my first day of training with the big guys. Following a morning swim with the who's who of Canadian and International triathlon at the time and alongside a series of young, super fit, ambitious triathletes who had flocked to the then Mecca of triathlon like me, hoping that there was Olympic magic in the air and water. I quickly, and at times brutally, found out that there wasn’t.
After the swim, we put on our wet weather gear, laced up our shoes and ran over to Elk & Beaver Lake for my first soggy run on the We(s)t Coast. As we ran along the gravel trail framed with trees on one side and the lake on the other, dodging puddles and shooting shit, I knew that no matter what the outcome of my adventure might be, that I had made the right decision.
My girlfriend apparently forgave me and soon joined me across the country and quickly surpassed my athletic feats and is now an Olympian and my wife. Simon and many of the athletes in the pool that day are amongst my closest friends and have continued to excel. Over the decade since that first run, I failed to achieve my Olympic dreams, returned to school, completed my degree, and I have run countless laps of the 10 kilometer loop, both alone and with them, and I have enjoyed almost every step of the way.
Life has interfered in various ways with with my spring running and racing plans, so when I heard that Elk/Beaver Ultras was home to the ACU Canadian 50 mile championship, I knew that it would be a perfect place to race. Although running 8 loops of a mostly flat gravel trail would normally have very little aesthetic appeal to me, this course is somewhere where I feel very comfortable and I knew that this would help me manage the inevitable lows that accompany most endurance events.
The event is low key, with few bells and whistles, but boasts all the essentials to host a well-managed race for the 60 or 70 athletes toeing the line between the various distances. I also knew that it had the potential to be quite fast. My main concerns were that it might be too fast and too flat, lulling me into quick opening laps, which I have been known to do and the monotony of the terrain would take its toll as the kilometers rolled by.
After a strangely restful sleep the night before the race in my own bed, I drove the familiar route to the lakes as the sun was rising and I mentally prepared for what I expected to be a solitary day of running.
Following a few hellos and well wishes to familiar faces, the race got underway. In order to make up the extra 0.47 meters on top of the 8 * 10kilometer loops, we were sent on a short out and back along a side trail and then we began our laps.
Although there were a few fast starters, I never ran with anyone and just locked into my thoughts. To be honest, the day was incredibly uneventful. I enjoyed retracing the steps that I have made so many times over the years, but I never felt great and I never felt too bad. My right hip bothered me from about 30 kilometers on, but it was manageable. I just focused on running as relaxed a pace as I could, getting in calories (approx 2 gels per loop, 1 salt pill and coke/Gatorade after 40km) and setting short-term goals, either running form related or about the terrain, and allowing myself momentary celebrations for hitting distance milestones along the way to keep myself engaged.
My thoughts really were as simple as “eat, drink, turnover, relax, stop and pee, oh there’s Mel, great 2/5 of the way done (I am always calculating fractions of distances when I race) etc… “ This is in sharp contrast to all of April when I was locked indoors at my desk, immersed in books, journals, exams and paper writing. I very much enjoyed being in motion with all my focus directed at taking care of my basic needs to keep me moving forward.
As I predicted, it was inspiring and comforting to watch the rowers putting in their own hard yards on the lake under the rising sun and it was familiar to see all the fisherman along the shores and although I had to dodge quite a few walkers, their dogs, joggers, runners and fellow racers, I had expected it, so it never bothered me. I saw lots of people I knew along the way and running through the start/finish area every lap gave me a bit of pep in my stride, but I would try to catch myself from getting too carried away and the kilometers and the time ticked by.
Before the race, I thought that sub-6 hours would be doable and I wanted to run as comfortably as possible to hit that mark. I didn’t really think about what that meant split wise, other than the fact that running sub 45-minute laps would do it. As I ran through 40 kilometers I did a quick bit of math and after assessing my body, I told myself that I could try and pick the pace up at 60 kilometers if I was feeling good.
At 60 kilometers, I wasn’t feeling bad, but I wasn’t feeling great. My hip was still sore and I was a bit tired, so I kept the pace where it was and promised myself that I would reconsider in 5 kilometers. Those kilometers passed too and I was still feeling rather average, so I didn’t change anything and told myself that I would revisit a push at 70 kilometers. As I ran passed the aide station and start/finish area for one last loop I started out fast, but decided against a big surge after a few minutes. A quick look at my watch and I realized that I might actually be able to get under 5:45 if I was willing to dig deep, but I wasn’t, so I kept the pace as comfortable as I could be given where I was in the race.
Finally, with about 6 kilometers to go, I decided to listen to the advice that Ironman champion and my great friend, Jasper Blake texted me before the race: “Just go fast so you can get the fucking thing over with,” which is wise advice for any race, so I started to pick up the pace. I was able to wind things up and I started to race the clock home. I began chasing people that I could see up the trail, trying to catch and pass them as quickly as possible. Most of them were just out for their morning walks or runs, oblivious to the fact that they were now pawns in my internal race, but they helped me ignore the fatigue, so I kept trying to run them down.
Finally, as I pushed through the final windy kilometers of the lower Beaver lake trails, I began to run quite hard as I realized I might be able to break 5:44. I willed my legs to move as fast as they could to the finish area seeing 5:43:57-8-9 ticking over on the clock. The timers have me down as finishing in 5:44:00 and although I’m sure a photo finish camera would have me breaking 5:44, I can live with it.
And just like that, the morning was done. I had completed my first 50-mile race, I won the National championship and I later found out that I set a new Canadian 50 mile trail record, all of which are accomplishments that I am proud of, but the best part of the experience is just how quantifiable it is. All of my friends and training partners know Elk and Beaver lake, so being able to say that I have run 8 laps of it has a strange quirky appeal and I think I am just as proud of that as I am about the outcome of the race.
Thank you very much to Carlos "the Jackal" and all the volunteers, spectators and people I shared the trail with. It was a wonderful morning and another great experience at Elk Lake.


Here are my splits from the race
10.47K 20.47K 30.47K 40.47K 50.47K 60.47K 70.47K 80.47K
0:44:41 1:27:58 2:11:27 2:54:14 3:36:49 4:19:33 5:02:17 5:44:00

The most baller trophy ever


Proud, tired, anti-climatic...


Race directors do the heavy lifting