Fat Dog 120 2024 Race Report 

Anyone entering a big adventure like this knows that it doesn’t start when we cross the start line. It starts years, months, weeks, days, and moments before the race director yells GO. For me, it truly started when deciding I’d enter the race at all. I texted my new coach, Alicia Woodside, asking if I should risk the entry fee, knowing wildfires in August could impact the race occuring at all. If you plan to run Fat Dog, part of the race preparation is acceptance that the wildfires that run rampant in the BC summers, are more than likely to throw some wrenches in what you’re planning for on race day.  And a month before the race our first wrench came, when they announced we’d be running an older version of the route due to trail restoration. The second wrench arrived a few days before the race, when we were told all runners would have to take a shuttle bus to the race start. The shuttle system meant most runners were mildly inconvenienced in one way or another, and in my case, it meant sitting with a bus-load of my fellow racers at the start line for 2.5hours. While not ideal, I had a bag of snacks, water, and an opportunity to catch up with fellow racers, including Chris, who I met at the Bromont Ultra in 2019. Part of running Fat Dog is being adaptable, and rolling with the punches, knowing they will come. You can count on the race organizers to be communicative, clear, and working in the best interest of runners. When race day arrived, I felt grateful to be at the start line. 

Part 1: Getting to my pacers

I often find myself alone in ultras. Perhaps because I’m committed to my own race plan, and when opportunities come up to stick with others, I prioritize my chosen pace. While I chatted here and there over the first 15km, my favourite thing is getting to passively listen to other people's conversations. Entertainment without effort. And the greatest gift, is when I hear them talking about race goals. Inevitably, the goal times are drastically different, and I laugh to myself wondering if one or both of them realizes they're probably pacing it wrong if they are together. 

I spent the first 57km mostly on my own. My usual plan to be patient was doubled by the remnants of a cold I came in with, and tripled by the smoke that blanketed the air that morning. Though my competitive fire would bubble up each time someone passed, my experience would whisper back that I’ll see them again later.  I enjoyed the smooth, gentle trails, with open meadows, so different from our coastal gnar. 

If you’re lucky, the first quarter of a race this length should be pretty unmemorable. The buy-in. For me, the most critical part of this first section happened long before the race, when I forgot to put Naak in one of my bottles. I rely on Naak for a lot of my calories and trained with it all year. Trying to compensate, I took Tailwind at each aid station. It was pretty diluted at the first few aid stations, so I didn't worry about the switch to something I wasn't used to. Until, I left the final aid station before my crew and had only two bottles of very strong Tailwind and no water.  When I licked my lips it tasted like a salt block. This made it hard to eat, and impossible to hydrate. While I knew I couldn't fall behind on eating and hydrating, I thought I could just make it up at the aid station. Little did I know, I was about to pay the price for these stacked mistakes.

Rough section stats: 57km 2098m of elevation gain, elapsed time: 8hrs

Part 2: Getting to relief

By the time you get to Cascade, you’ve covered 57km on your own, finally get to see your crew, and have the option to pick up a pacer. Before the race, I would laugh at how indulgent it felt to get a pacer a quarter of the way in. Looking back, I don’t know how I would have gotten through what came next without Harley. 

Harley is a dear friend to Pat (my partner) and I, and has now been there to support a number of our important races. He helped me prepare for TDS, traveled to California to pace Pat at Leona Divide, and cheered us on at the Buckin' Hell relay. Harley is experienced, competent, as kind as they come, and the only person I know who may be a bigger fan of the sport than me. As much as I wish I could have moved better through this section for Harley, Pat and I still talk about how lucky I was that it was Harley who was out there with me. I needed every ounce of his experience, competence, and kindness to get me to Hope Pass. 

As we started the long climb out of Cascade, I was brought to a halt. The nausea was intense, causing me to stop each time I needed to take in some food. Some relief came when I finally got some of the food up, and temporarily felt better. We celebrated my first trail puke, and feigned optimism it would be all uphill from here. In reality, when I glanced at my watch to see we’d only made it 6km, I was deflated and concerned about how long it would take to inch our way to Hope Pass where my crew had anti-nausea. 

What I’ll remember from this section with Harley, besides it being the hardest 40km I’ve ever had to cover, is when I was taking one of my scheduled stump-sits, and could only finish half of my gel. Not wanting to put a half-full gel back in my pack, I started digging a little gel grave. Harley, thinking I was planning to bury my trash, starts trying to find a way to get me to stop while being kind and non-judgemental. I’ll remember him cheering each runner around us as if they were a friend, and our conversations about trail running podcasts and how lucky we are to live in the age of Courtney Dauwalter. 

We troubleshooted, and we inched our way through the more rugged and grown over sections to Tulameen.  At the aid station, we watched while women came and went while I sat there having butternut squash soup and ginger ale. I had a weird thought sitting at the aid station, “Where am I supposed to puke? Do I go to the woods behind me, or the garbage bags by the food station.”… Odd to think about etiquette at that moment. I was in disbelief when I realized 30 minutes had passed in what felt like minutes. We talked about how once my stomach felt better, I’d have one hell of a Saturday. And in the meantime, we celebrated every bit of food I got down, every step I ran, every 10/10 log, and most of all, we celebrated getting to Hope Pass… 

Part 3: Turning things around

Amber embodies lightness. She is bubbly, quick-to-laugh, more than once has given me gear off her back without a second thought, and has a 100% rate of sending me cheering messages when I have a race coming up. She even jumped in with my family crewing at TDS, which was the most joyful surprise part-way through that race. What I learned through Amber pacing me, is that for every “woo” she’d yell while we were running (and it was every time I started running), there was in equal measure a drill-sergeant efficiency to us getting tasks done. If she so much as saw me reaching for a part of my pack, she’d jump in to help adjust, hold, or troubleshoot the problem. 

My memories with Amber include trying to shove Mr. Noodles from an aid station into a flask to take on our climb, packing crackers in my pole quiver to-go, and blasting through the Heather section and the many hikers out enjoying the trail. We laughed at what a silly sport this is, dragging our friends out to walk with us in the middle of the night and calling it a ‘race’. 

By the time we finished our climb out of Nicomen Lake aid station, I was starting to feel normal again. And with that, Amber realized we were on pace for my fastest projection for her section. Then she read out a text from Pat, “3 women not far ahead”. What felt like survival just a few hours ago, was turning back into a race. Amber’s giddiness made me happy, but the kind of happiness where you’re happy for someone else’s happiness. I had no comprehension of where I was in time or placing by this point, and had left all my A and B goals on the climb out of Cascade. But I guess that’s one reason why we have crew, and we did pass the 3 women Pat was talking about just before hitting the road down to Blackwall. I recognized them all from when I was eating soup at Tulameen.

Rough section stats: 40km 1400m of elevation gain, elapsed time: 7hrs

Part 4: Homecoming

It’s only right to introduce them together, as their parts in my race journey became quite intertwined. Nat picked me up at Blackwall, a section I was really looking forward to. I may be a trail runner but 10km of a road descent feels like an absolute gimme in my books. But as soon as we left Blackwall, I felt zapped. The push with Amber may have been a little overzealous. 

I needed care in unique ways in my sections with Nat. As we descended down Blackwall, an urgent need to pee started, and continued about every 10 minutes. While I don’t mind popping a squat in the woods, we were on a very well-trafficked road. Un-fussed, Nat said she’d pee too, completely abating my concern about peeing in front of every tourist, crew, and family that drove by (so sorry!).  When we then got caught in a rain storm, no problem, we put our jackets on. And when I got anxious about crossing 4 lanes of highway with no flagging, or crossing guard, Nat took charge, and grabbed my hand until we were safely across. 

We got to Windy Joe’s, where the whole crew was waiting, and I did what I needed to turn things around for the daunting climb up Frosty. 

What I’ll remember of this section, is continuing my urgent pee stops every 10 minutes, getting to the halfway part of the loop and realizing there was something like 400m and only 1-2km of distance left on the climb. That section was tough, but April kept encouraging me forward. After a quick sit at the top and some whining over the techy start to the descent, we ran through the river that had formed on the forested trail for what felt like kms. All along, April was behind me saying “she’s running!”. 

And it’s true, this was a strong loop. We were through the dark, and I was ready to finally get to racing. With each section behind me, the less I felt I had things to save my legs for. By the time I got down to Tom’s Bench, we decided to skip it all together. I had lots of water and fuel to carry me the 5km to Strawberry Flats. I paused to high-five my friends Ailsa, Peter, and their son Henry, who had come out to cheer. The team had decided Nat, who was now patched up (luckily she’s a doctor!), would hop in for this section instead of Pat. 

The kilometres here clicked by quickly, as it’s a relatively flat section connecting Lightning Lake to Strawberry Flats trailhead. Nat was gently giving me updates on the runner ahead of me, Meredith, as it’s a friend of our crew as well. I told her I was weighing whether I wanted the last 20km of my race to feel like I was pushing for a race result, or just take the race for what it was. With no fuss or pressure, she said something along the lines of, “I think all you have to do is keep doing exactly what you’ve been doing”. Which was all I needed in that moment. 

Rough section stats: 41.76km 1344m of elevation gain 8hrs26mins

Part 5: The Race is On

We got to Strawberry Flats where we tagged in Pat. This was our last aid station before the finish. The week before the race I had run this loop, and had hoped I’d get here with Pat for sunset. Getting to run this loop with him was a big motivator for me to even get to this point. 

It’s a funny choice thinking about who you may want with you (if you’re lucky to have choice!) for the last 17km of a 200km race. You don’t know who you’ll be in that moment. You may need someone to push with you for a race finish, or you may need comfort as you drag your soulless body to the finish. For me it was easy. I knew Pat would hammer if we were hammering, and accept whoever I was if things got a little ugly. I ended up needing both sides of this. The other thing that made Pat perfect for the last section, was it freed him up as crew chief to be available earlier in the race. He takes his role as crew chief very seriously, as evidenced by all my previous pacers making a comment at one time or other about how great he is. 

It was now time to take my great guy on a date night up Skyline! We moved quickly up the gradual climb, catching up on our days, and chatting a bit with the 100km runners around us. I kept reflecting in disbelief that it was just 17km to go. Just keep doing what I’ve been doing.

I crossed the line in 35:21, 2nd female, surrounded by the people who helped get me there. Whether we knew it or not, we had the exact person we needed for each stage of this race. I had Harley’s experience through my hardest hours, Amber’s diligence to bring me back to life, April’s spirit to accompany me through the storm, Nat’s quiet care through the in-betweens, and Pat’s acceptance to bring me home. 

Now I assume some of you were here because you may be planning to run Fat Dog and were hoping for some helpful intel. So for that, stay tuned for part 2.

A final special note to thank the team behind the race, the volunteers, and my fellow runners. A whole other post would be required to accurately reflect your roles in this race. Thank you thank you thank you.