East Coast Trail 50 km Ultra Marathon: October 31, 2015

October 31, 2015 Trick, Treat or Ultra Marathon? Das ist die Frage.

Susan Flanagan ponders life on the East Coast Trail 50 km Ultramarathon course

This year’s Hallowe’en morning was a tad blustery. But Team 48 Degrees was ready for the 2^nd official East Coast Trail 50 km Ultra Marathon, which started at the trail head across the street from St. Agnes RC church on Bank Road in Pouch Cove (Lat/Lon: 47.762021, -52.762973).

A view along the East Coast Trail on the 50 km Ultra course

A warm coat is recommended to keep you alive before the start. Organizers Aaron Goulding and Caroline McIlroy promise that your discarded outer wear will make it to the finish line, inside the Inn of Olde in Quidi Vidi, before you do. I don’t doubt it.

At sunrise (7:43 am) Paula Kelly, the first runner for Team 48 Degrees, sprinted to begin Stage 1. Pouch Cove to Flat Rock on the East Coast Trail is just over 15 km of ups and downs on muddy hills, rough wooden and stone steps and chicken wire covered board walks. Trail shoes are necessary especially after the thundering rain the Northeast Avalon experienced on Friday, the day before the race. Runners need the extra traction so they don’t slip on slick tree roots which crisscross the trail like veins. Towards the end of this stage, as runners leave Red Head Cove, there is a left turn onto the ECT to go around the headland. You should take this turn rather than continuing straight through the field along an ATV track.

While full ultra-marathoners and Stage 1 team runners made their way south, check point officials and second-stage runners kept on extra outside layers while they waited at the Flat Rock Aid Station, which was in an exposed area across from the Grotto, for the first stage runners to arrive (Lat/Lon: 47.704992, -52.710386).

I hopped about to keep warm while waiting to see Paula’s form appear crest her final hill. The sun’s rays east of Flat Rock poked through the clouds like an illustration in a Berenstain Bears book. When Paula arrived, I was ready.

Stage 2, from Flatrock to Middle Cove beach parking lot is the shortest and easiest stage at 13.6 km. The 1.1 km road section down to the Beamer proved a good warm up. Once I turned onto the trail at the East Coast Trail sign, I ran out to the split rock near the end of the Beamer before turning back south and heading towards Torbay. There are a couple of major climbs out of Flat Rock that, despite the warm up, my legs were not quite ready for. I took advantage of the slower pace to have a few bites to eat and steal some quick glimpses of the ocean. Nothing like running on a slippery trail along the east coast of Newfoundland in high winds to remind you that you are still alive.

I had passed only one person by the time I hit the uphills. Now passing someone does not mean I’m a stronger runner. It means they were crazy enough to sign up for 50 km instead of my piddly 13.6. On a steep set of downhill steps, I caught up with two yellow-jacketed girls, one of whom, Amanda McIntosh from Texas, I ran with for about 20 minutes or more - @CoachAmandaMac

The first time the trail split I took the left-hand or “Difficult” option as advised in the race tips. Race tips also advised: “Careful on the cliff path; do not fall off.”

Neither of us fell over, but Amanda did slip and fall flat on her back while approaching a stream. She said she was OK. I think her bladder bag saved her spine.
When Amanda and I reached the Whale Cove sign, I assumed it was a lookout and headed right, but Amanda steered me left again – good call. I may have become one of those racers to veer off course by several kilometres. Thank you Amanda.

“I come from a place that’s very flat,” she says, as we head up a cliff, with the cold North Atlantic lapping at the base . “I’m not used to hills.”

“And you chose to run the whole 50 k?” I say.

“Yeah,” she answers. “I’m trying to get back into Ultras.”

I find out she’s done Pike’s Peak in Colorado a couple of times and the Penticton Ironman and markets the Swim It, an open-water swimming device that triathletes can strap to the back of their right leg. If they freak out or get into trouble during the swim portion of a tri, they can pull the Swim It and deploy a life vest. Of course once deployed, the wearer is disqualified from the race. But the device might be all a swimming wimp like me needs for peace of mind to get me through. It is sanctioned by Ironman. You never know what you’ll learn during an ultramarathon.

The Swim It

Approaching Tapper’s Cove, I point out two runners ahead and suggest that Amanda and I catch them before Torbay Beach. Turns out they’re a married couple on a hot 50 km date. With their two children away at university, this couple chose to spend this glorious day running an ultra. I hope they had the strength to massage each other’s legs by the time they made it home.

Amanda held her pace while I picked mine up and passed the happy couple. I never saw any of them again.

I was in familiar territory having spent many years frequenting Torbay Beach when my sister lived there. Over the bridge, past James Gosse’s bench and Louise’s artist studio on the left. Down towards the beach, cross the  bridge and over the old fortifications. Ascending the far side of the bay, I offered a solo male runner some gummies on Spray Lane, but he was all set. I turned left on Marine Drive and ran on the pavement for a little more than a kilometre, veering right at the fork and ecstatic to spy two faded orange arrows pointing me down Motion Lane towards the trail. A little uphill, but nothing like the climb out of Flat Rock or Torbay Beach. From the mail box at the trail head, it was a wide open downhill through a field where I passed my final two runners.

I had practiced this 2.4 km stretch the previous Wednesday with my husband. Because you have to pay such sharp attention to the tree roots and trail to make sure you don’t A. slip or B. take the wrong path, we had both run through Motion without once looking at Jeff Stirling’s house.

The practice paid off and I was able to ford the bridgeless Motion River without slowing or faltering. As I approached the water, I heard a female voice behind me ask if I needed help. I never did see the body from whom the voice emanated, but thought it a thoughtful gesture. A kind person who had volunteered to sit in the woods all day offering help to off-kilter runners trying to find purchase on a one-inch wide ten-foot long rock face so they don’t drop off into the waterfall below.

Oops

I was into the home stretch now. A few gnarly up-hills, one invisible fence and then the glorious descent onto Middle Cove Beach (Lat/Lon: 47.650311, -52.696599) where Tammy the clown hooted and hollered my arrival.

“That’s Susan,” she said.

“Can’t be,” said my husband. “She’s not that strong.”

“That person has facial hair,” another observer, either Shannon or Florence, remarked. Not sure which one. No one owned up to it.

But it was me.

With less facial hair than a foraging moose, I had covered the second stage in one hour 38 minutes. I was probably twice as slow as Patrick McIlroy, but since I am a mere human, I was quite pleased.

Super Dwan was ready and waiting to pick up the torch and power up the hill out of Middle Cove only to descend to Outer Cove and head back up the unforgiving hill to the end of Doran’s Lane where she had a slight reprieve in the woods before reaching Torbay Point, the Klondyke, as we call it. Once she came out again at the ocean, she made a sharp right towards Sobeys Forest and town.

“It’s really steep and hard so this bit is extra fun,” reads the website.

Dwan, the strong, from Spillar's Cove, Tri

Stage 3’s Middle Cove to Quidi Vidi is 23.5 km, the first 2.9 km on the road and then 8.2 km on the East Coast Trail between Outer Cove and Red Cliff. Once at Red Cliff, Dwan continued on the trail ‘til she got to the radio tower, where she skipped the “view point” and headed right towards Red Cliff Road. She ran between two Cold War buildings covered with graffiti and took a narrow trail down steep steps. She manoeuvered around roots and wires to come out at the start of a 3.5 km stretch of road which led her to the beginning of Red Cliff Road where she turned left and ran south on Marine Drive until she reached the T-junction and went left again down to the Marine Lab parking lot.

“Coming out on the road was actually a welcome break to the legs,” says Dwan. “I am mainly a road runner - I felt like I could fly when I hit the pavement.”

From Logy Bay to Quidi Vidi is 8.9 km if you take the shortest route. Here’s what the website says, and yes, it’s all caps: “TO WALK THIS SECTION TAKES OVER TWO HRS WITH FRESH LEGS. IF IT IS PAST 15:30, SERIOUSLY CONSIDER NOT CONTINUING, ELSE YOU COULD BE RUNNING IN THE DARK.”

Lovely. Dwan took it all in stride and headed back on the East Coast Trail at the cod on a stick.

The website also says: “This is the most technically challenging part of the course, but thankfully this is where the fun really starts. Your legs will be shot from the recent road running and the previous 40-odd km. Because of the enormous amount of fun during this stage you will probably question why you are doing this – just remember there is a bottle of beer and warm clothes at the end.”

Dwan says she like “being windswept on the open cliffs and then hearing the birds and squirrels chirping me on when I was sheltered in the woods. I will say it was beautiful and the terrain varied quite a bit - stairs (lots and lots and LOTS of stairs), rocks, mud, a stream, road, roots, steep inclines and declines.”

Finally Dwan reached Quidi Vidi following the hiker signs as opposed to the mountain biker signs. She ran down the super steep dirt path to the bridge next to Quidi Vidi Plantation. We met her at the Inn of Olde where she got her congratulatory Curly Wurly British braided choco bar and bowl of chili and called it a day.

“Nothing beats the moment of popping over the hill and seeing beautiful Quidi Vidi Village with a couple of kms to go,” adds Dwan. “I can't wait to do it again next year. Now...if only my calves would work again…”

There you have it, folks. The East Coast Trail 50 km Ultra Race. If you ran the full 50 k and your calves are howling, you have a full year to work out the knots. See you all on the trail.

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