I’ve been a fan of the project to develop the Trans-Canada
Trail for a while now. The trail strings together some rail trails and dirt
roads through endless breathtaking scenery. So when Lennard Pretorius first
announced he was plotting a race route along a 1000k portion of the
Trans-Canada Trail, I was immediately intrigued.
My work/life schedule worked out so I found myself in B.C.
on June 25th for the inaugural running of the race.
The race started out with a 20k paved ride out of Merritt.
Three or four of us quickly pulled ahead as the fast riders showed their hands
early. This was the first ultra-endurance race where I set my goal to hang out
at the pointy end of the race and I was pretty excited as the race was going
exactly to plan. I felt strong and the miles (or kilometers) ticked away at
rapid succession.
Shortly after hitting the first stretch of trail, there was
a glitch in the route and I found myself riding in circles trying to find the
route. Fortunately, Lennard, the mastermind behind the route, showed up quickly
and pointed the way.
Much of the route is on rail trails. This was the most
misleading aspect of the entire race. These rail trails weren’t easy by any
stretch of the imagination. Years of ATV use left the trails extremely rough,
loose and all-around challenging. Add in the fact that nothing is flat in this
section of Canada and most riders, including myself, were caught off guard.
There’s no such thing as easy riding in Canada. My rigid bike was not the best
choice.
After a few hours my stomach started feeling a little off.
It’s not unusual for me to battle nausea early in races so I didn’t think much
of it. But the feeling just kept getting worse. Soon, I as unable to eat any
solid foods at all. I was staying well hydrated sucking down water from my
hydration pack and energy drink from my bottle, but food wasn’t working.
I thought something other than packaged food would help so I
made an unplanned stop. I pulled into A&W in Princeton just 100k into the
ride and right on the route. (I’m fascinated that A&W is still a thing in
Canada). I took a bite of my burger and spent the next 10 minutes trying to
swallow it. No luck so I hopped back on the bike as the first rider out of
Princeton.
Because I have had minor stomach issues in the past, I was
prepared. I packed a couple bottles of Ensure. This high calorie meal
replacement drink is designed for the infirmed so it is usually a way I can get
calories when I can’t stomach actual food. I was able to get it down and then
spent the next hour expending a lot of energy trying to keep it down.
After another 100k I managed to hit some railroad tracks
just wrong and burp most of the air out of my rear tire. How it didn’t go
completely flat, I have no idea. My bike got pretty squirrely with only a few
PSI in the tire, but I really didn’t want to stop. I knew pumping it up with my
mini pump would take a long time. I managed to limp into Summerland where I saw
a house with a bunch of bikes in the garage and people working in the front
yard so I stopped and asked to borrow a floor pump. It turned out these folks
had just finished watching Inspired to
Ride, a movie about bikepack racing across the U.S. on the TransAM route,
so they fully understood my level of crazy and were eager to help.
At this point I was still in the lead so I just kept
pedaling. I was bound to feel better soon. At 130k, I rolled into Penticton. I
still felt like I was going to throw up any second but still believed it was
only temporary. I told myself as long as I stayed hydrated, I’d be fine.
In Penticton I ordered some food and stared at it for 20
minutes. Then I rode a few miles off route to a grocery store to replenish my
supply of Ensure.
At this point, I was bonking hard. I was in extreme calorie
deficit and expecting the few calories I had consumed earlier that morning to
re-emerge in a violent eruption. I convinced myself it will pass as I rode out
of town through Penticton’s bucolic wine country and headed up into the
mountains again. On the lower slopes of the climb, a couple racers passed by
and I realized just how slow I was going. This was the first time I really
admitted to myself just how bad I was feeling. My mantra of “just keep moving”
was now being replaced with “Just keep it down” so I called it a night early
and was in my bivvy by 9:00 struggling to sleep through the battle raging in my
belly.
The next morning, I managed to eat a banana so I thought I
was making progress. I loaded up my gear and took off on the climb with new
energy. I soon realized I wasn’t doing as well as I thought and the extreme
nausea was back with a vengeance.
The entire duration of the climb I debated each and every
pedal stroke. Should I continue? Should I stop? I made it to the summit of the
climb and my mind was consumed processing the possible bail out options.
Getting out of a race of this caliber can be as hard as the race itself. I knew
I was about to head into a long stretch of 300k before the next major city.
After a long deliberation with myself of relentless flip flopping, I finally
had to make the tough call to quit. This was my first DNF since I started
bikepacking. Finishing every event had been a point of pride, but it just wasn’t
worth it. I had lost the mental battle and my body was in full-on revolt.
With a heavy heart and a light stomach, I turned back and
rode down the hill I had just painstakingly climbed and made it into Penticton
for a scratch.
I feel surprisingly incomplete. I’m still haunted by my
decision. I can’t wait to go back and finish what I started.
