Finlayson Arm 50k

It’s no secret that this is a hard race. A glance at the elevation profile or recognition of any one of the many climbs for those familiar with these trails and you’ll get the picture. Goldstream Trestle, Mt. Finlayson, Holmes Peak, Jocelyn Hill, Squally Reach, Mt Work, the Mckenzie Bight…and luckily you get to experience most of these twice.

I had run the 28km race three times now and decided to register for the 2020 50km which was cancelled due to the pandemic. Aside from a few virtual events I had not raced since my DNF at the 2020 Orcas Island 50km due to an injury and I was very eager to get back to it. To say that this was an ambitious first race back is beyond fair. I was less focused on competing against the other racers or my time and more on simply being able to feel connected to that amazing trail running community again and testing myself. A stubborn peroneal tendon ankle injury has reduced my weekly mileage to roughly 30-40km over the past 10 months which is a far cry from what I would recommend to anyone tackling the 28km race let alone the 50km. I promised myself (and my physiotherapist) that I would run smart and only worry about my comfort level and finishing the race in a good physical and mental place and not get wrapped up in the competition.

The course map and elevation profile compliments of the event website and Coastline Endurance Running

I showed up around 630am for the 7am start with the usual butterflies of anticipation but with very little pressure on myself or on the day. I had the benefit of only living about 20 minutes away and my wife Kim was dropping me off near the starting line which made things very easy for me. The parking situation is well outlined on the pre-race emails and website but there are always a handful of VIP runners who assume they can arrive last minute and park right next to the start (don’t be a VIP!). I ran into some familiar faces during check-in and also anxiously chatted with some strangers at the starting line to help ease those pre-race nerves and awaited Myke Labelle’s countdown. Almost on queue the grey skies turned a misty west coast spit into one of the few rains we’ve had all year and would stick around for much of the day. I was also running with a fabric ankle brace and had never got it wet before. All three Finlayson Arm distances run through a culvert under Highway 1 at around the 1.5km mark which makes wet feet unavoidable early in the race. Off we go right at 7am and up the gravel road and out of the campsite that serves as race HQ and the start/finish line. I was towards the front of the pack but had more bodies in front of me than I’m used to for a race and still felt like I was running the smart race I had planned for. A jolly pirate costumed race volunteer greeted us at the beginning of the highway crossing and one by one we splashed into the cold and rocky stream. I tried to push out the thoughts of my Orcas DNF where I had sprained my ankle early in the race by stepping awkwardly on an unseen boulder during a similar creek crossing. To my relief the cold water was refreshing and cleared my early morning cobwebs and the now drenched fabric ankle brace would cause me no issues on the day.

We started winding through the somewhat technical and root-filled trails that wind up passed an old goldmine entrance and up to the Goldstream Trestle and then back down. Crossing under the Highway once more but through a dry dark tunnel the course took us along one of the few flat portions through Goldstream park and to the entrance of the Mt. Finlayson summit trail. I continued to get passed here and there but was not interested in the least. I reminded myself that the race and more importantly that vicious elevation profile were still in their infancy. The race pack was already spreading itself out up Mt. Finlayson with pockets of 3-6 runners tackling the gradual access road portion and later the more technical upper Finlayson trail. The moderate rain had succeeded in coating the rock faces which gave me another excuse to take it easy and ensure a solid footing up the often slippery and exposed route. My legs were already feeling tired as we reached the summit and I was coated in what I hoped to be rain but was likely more sweat and tried to zero in on how happy I was in the moment and to be apart of this race weekend again.

Nimbly dancing down the backside of Finlayson I soon came out on to the brief road portion that connects us onto the Gowlland Todd trail network starting at Caleb Pike. The first aid station at Rowntree Rd at 11.1km allowed me to top up some sports drink and down a pickle which mentally helped my leg fatigue and fear of cramping up - something I’m all too familiar with. It’s a blessing and a curse to run on trails you’re familiar with. Gowlland/Jocelyn Hill are my favourite trails to run and I knew every turn. I knew the very few ‘easy’ sections and I knew the places where I could potentially struggle. In hindsight I prefer the adventure and the curiosity of running trails that I’m not familiar with. There could be a great view, a wicked climb, or a rollercoaster-fun flowing trail around every bend that allow you to keep an element of discovery throughout the day.

What I call the ridge section between Holmes Peak and Jocelyn could be one of the most beautiful trails to run in Canada. You have to pay attention to your footing which makes it hard to take in the scenery but the views over Finlayson Arm and across to the Malahat are stunning. I was definitely in one of my better mindsets along this section and that helped carry me through the knee pounding decent down to Mckenzie Bight and then up the monotonous Bight access road climb. Admittedly I chose to walk a good portion of this Bight climb but when you spot the one and only Matt Cecil (Google his Finlayson Arm documentary!) crouching down ahead of you to snap a few race photos you really don’t have any other choice but to crack a smile and make it look like you’ve been running it continuously! Cheers for that ego-driven motivation, Matt.

I had always expected the Munn Rd aid station to be the party zone from past pictures but it was immediately clear that the Ross-Durrance Aid Station sitting between the Bight Climb and Mt Work trailhead was where it was at. Not only did spectators line the latter parts of the Bight climb but it felt like there was a ton of eager to help volunteers buzzing around the place and understandably a number of runners enjoying the pampering. Throughout the day the aid station volunteers; and I mean every single one, truly made me feel like they were invested in my race and my well-being. This was truly an awesome thing to feel and to experience during a tough race and a great pick-me-up to start the nine km plus return trip up and over Mt. Work and back again.

I was in the zone at this point putting one foot in front of the other and sputtering out a brief jog whenever I could talk myself into thinking the trail was flattening out. It was also uplifting to not only see the race leaders coming back the other way but also an increasing amount of the 100km ‘ghosts’ that were now tackling the Mt. Work buffet for their second time. I use the word ‘ghost’ with the utmost respect as these athletes were mentally and physically putting it all out there and now 18 hours into their race it showed noticeably on their faces. The turn-around aid station at Munn Rd. at the 28km mark was a nice milestone on the day. Knowing that the majority of the km’s and the vert were behind me made the return journey up and over Mt. Work just a little easier. Had a nice chat with a first time 50km runner on the way back up Mt Work who seemed to be racing and feeling well which helped to take my mind off of the task at hand - thanks for the distraction Mike! My wife gave me the surprise of the day by waiting for me on the Mt. Work summit to snap a photo and say hi! Love you Kim! I tried to get into a more or less runner’s auto-pilot on the way down from Work which must have worked as that section is a blur.

Kim snapping a groggy groggery coming back over the Mt. Work summit: “is it really you?”

Back into the party zone at Ross-Durrance and I tried not to linger too long there. An unmistakeable contrast was evident between the encouraging and happy spectators and volunteers compared with the battle worn and muddied runners passing through. I was finding that my quick aid station pauses were routinely putting me ahead of a handful of runners who had passed me a few times already. This was my 5th 50km race start and perhaps I had some race experience and aid station efficiency to my credit. It was time to continue the descent. Off of the Mt. Work plunge my legs and knees were jelly. Now through the aid station I continued down the McKenzie Bight decent and while it was easy to maintain a decent pace along the steep access road, I knew my legs were going to pay a price for it. Reaching the Bight the course levels out for about 100 meters and starts the steep ascent back up what I call the waterfall trail (dry this time of year) and all the way to the Jocelyn hill apex. As I had predicted this climb was my low on the day. Chatting with other runners and not surprisingly this sounds like the norm of experiences. The legs were heavy, the rain continued to fall and, while made for a quiet and peaceful hike on any other day, added a little bit to the miserable aesthetic on today’s death march. No room for self-pity today. Up and up.

Strava added a few bonus km’s but I think the elevation is pretty close.

Once again I seemed to find a groove along the ‘ridge trail’ through Jocelyn and passed Holmes down to Caleb Pike which felt great. I chatted with a fellow runner heading back through the final aid station at Rowntree and we continued to run together on and off again until the final km’s of the race where she had the strength to pull away - well done Dominique! A special shout out to the owners of the Bear Mountain Resort who rescinded on allowing the race organizer (or any of the greater public for that matter) to use the Canada Cup mountain bike trail network that had been used for all previous races. In order to bypass the off limits trail of yesteryear, we took the seldom used “F-U B.M” trail (I’ll let you reach your own conclusion on the acronym). The vinegar in the wound for Bear Mountain’s lack of a ‘sharing is caring’ attitude was how much of a grind the new bypass trail proved to be. The trail felt freshly carved into the loose dirt and moss and ran over and under a handful of downed trees - always a pleasure on tired legs 45 km into a race. I had to walk the majority of this section and still had a few close calls with loose footing. I would think that previous records on the course will stand a better chance of remaining if this becomes the new route as it is definitely a more technical slog than the previous mountain biking trail.

Off the “F-U B.M.” and back on to the familiar ‘back side of Finlayson’ trail that connects to Bear Mountain and I was back in the groove and moving surpisingly well for the later stages of the race. I passed a few more 100km runners whose exhaustion was now noticeably crumbling away to the delirium of the finish line being only a few km’s away. The final kilometers that connect the Finlayson summit trail with the Goldstream campsite and finish line are a great albeit non-representatively runnable way to conclude the day! I continued to surprise myself with a pretty good pace through the beautiful single track and down the final path to the finish line party. Myke was there to provide a runner’s choice of fist bumps, elbow taps or the occasional surprise hug from the odd 100km finisher that would not take a half-attempted ‘no’ for an answer. After a thorough de-mudding of my legs under an outdoor tap and transition to slides and sweat pants I was about ready to tackle my next challenge - demolishing a burger or two and a Fat Tug…or three.

Thanks again to Myke and Coastline Endurance, the many volunteers, the nameless and named runners I had the pleasure of chatting with and running alongside, to the 100km ghosts who provided not only bottomless inspiration but also affirmed that I WILL NOT attempt the 100km anytime soon, and lastly to my chiropractor, physiotherapist, and my wife Kim for the rehab, support and the encouragement.

Finish line beers and burgers in the rain - a fitting end!