Strategic Shortcomings and Caffeinated Catastrophes
text : Paul Lott - photo : Gophrette Power
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Running isn’t always about speed. Obviously, all of you BQ’ers out there can tell me to zip it whenever you’d like. I get it. But what happens when three hours of bleeding your heart out turns into almost thirty? Are you still going to rely on speed, or are you going to incorporate a little bit of strategy into the game?
As it turns out, The Speed Project DIY 2021 was a perfect opportunity for three Montreal-based teams to flex their endurance skills and strategic prowess in an unrelenting relay format to see how many kilometers each team could amass in 29 hours and 43 minutes. Two teams had their plan on lock and were leaps and bounds ahead of the third loose knit afterthought of a team, which unraveled faster than that sweater grandma made for you when you were eight.
Under the tutelage of the talented coaches at Uptempo Running, Curd-Side Pickup and Fries B4 Guys consisted of two well-oiled, all women, all power, running machines. They grinded their gears in unison along an 800 meter course set on Montreal’s beautiful Lachine canal, stopping and starting at the event's gracious host and hub, Ma Bicyclette. Their families and friends were ever-present, keeping the women fueled and fired up for their next rally ‘round the course. Both teams were so smiley and upbeat the entire time, it appeared like they were actually having about as much fun as anyone could possibly have running in a tiny circle for well over a day.
The third team consisted of a stellar cast of athletes - myself excluded - that collectively had more than enough talent and experience to get the job done. Our leading team strategist, Laurent Caudrelier, competed in the OG TSP in 2018, Los Angeles to Las Vegas, and previously led his November Project team to victory at Run Around 125 in 2019. I naively assumed he’d bring his wisdom and wide breadth of experience to the table. Alas, his fabled winning strategies were mysteriously absent on race day and no real thought ever went into how our team was going to manage running non-stop for twenty-nine hours straight.
So, we decided to draw a circle. Of course, it wasn’t just any kind of circle and certainly not a practical 800 meter loop laden with croissants and crew. Nope, the RUNK Dream Team drew one giant, wildly unimaginative circle that spanned twenty seven kilometers in circumference and crossed both the Champlain and Jaques Cartier bridges. Each runner was tasked with completing it twice… In a row. Everyone on our team was an accomplished ultra runner, so how hard could it possibly be to run 54 kilometers on flat ground? I voiced out loud multiple times that this format would be far more enjoyable than spinning in mind-numbing circles around the canal for 29 hours. But of course, I would soon come to regret ever opening my big mouth because eating your words often tastes like pure shit.
First up was our team’s resident dad and event leader, Martin St. Pierre, who only made it around the course one and a half times before realizing how piss-poor our pseudo-plan was, and deciding that he’d rather be sitting by the canal drinking beer. Like a canary in a coal mine, this was the first sign that shit was definitely going to go awry.
Marching through the midday heat, Laurent employed his magnificent, muscular thouroughbred legs to successfully complete both laps in a very respectable time of five-ish hours. He was so overheated by the end of his second lap, he was practically begging us to pull out one of those green privacy screens you see at the Kentucky Derby to discreetly put him out of his misery. We did not oblige his morbid request and handed him a cold beer instead.
Speaking of a person who would have welcomed the sweet embrace of death by the end of the second lap, I was up next. But before embarking upon my first lap, I stuffed my pockets with multiple white packets of nutrition that are touted to be the best on the market. Unfortunately, I had never tried this particular product before nor did I even bother reading what it contained.
I started knocking back one metallic-tasting packet after another to get me through the afternoon heat and back to The Hub in one piece. As I took a short breather in between laps, my teammates kindly suggested I lay off the space-age nutrition. But I was characteristically opposed to eating real food and for whatever reason, felt a tremendous amount of nervous energy building up inside me.
I really did not want to run that second lap. Nothing inside my shriveled, dehydrated brain said that it would be fun. As I searched for any excuse to get out of it, the running community’s two favorite cheerleaders, Mike Nicholas and Sabrina Feddal (my fellow teammate), announced they’d be joining me as I ran into the coming night. Well shit, I thought. There’s no backing out now.
Mike was on his bike, camera in hand, and Sab was checking off her first lap while I desperately tried to keep my shit together. I’ve attempted to scrub my mind clean of this memory, but I vividly recall being about 38 kilometers into my 54-kilometer run when I attempted to consume one final little white packet. My stomach instantly revolted as I spit up its gooey contents all over the sidewalk.
I decided it was about time to have a look at the packet to see exactly what I’d been so blindly ingesting. Lo and behold, right there in big black text, it read: CONTAINS 100 MG OF CAFFEINE. My stomach sank and turned in unison. I did a quick calculation and realized I’d consumed the equivalent of 15+ cups of coffee in roughly three hours. Realizing that I had successfully OD’d on caffeine, I knew I was about to be in for a really rough time.
Running across the Jacques Cartier bridge for the second time, I thought I was going to die. The incessant rattling of aging trusses and twinkling city lights had my innards perched at the back of my throat. I managed to keep it all in until I reached Parc Gauvin, where I felt I wouldn’t be that out of place to projectile vomit into a trash can. For the remainder of my last lap, I could barely hobble one kilometer before collapsing to the ground, spewing my guts out. If it hadn’t been for Sab and Mike, I would have ended up in the hospital or in jail, (wrongly) charged for public intoxication.
Their words of encouragement kept me going, but it was hardly enough to distract me from the stench of vomit clinging to my beard. With only 400 meters to go, I collapsed one last time, unable to move. The distant cheers from The Hub across the canal resurrected my broken spirit and gave me the strength to get up and run across the bridge towards the finish line. As I zombie-shuffled my way into the crowd, my lovely and supportive wife ran up to me to offer her congratulations for completing both laps. All I could mutter was, “Don’t fucking kiss me.”
The remaining RUNk’ers and Uptempo teams trudged on through the night and into the dawn of the following day. I had managed to get some sleep and felt compelled to come back to witness the final moments of TSP DIY 2021. Both teams of women looked exhausted, but somehow maintained the grace and composure that had all but eluded our “Dream Team.”
However, Sabrina Feddal, Clarisse Bailliart, and Jacobane Bergdoll wisely chose to modify the original plan and ended up not running 54 consecutive kilometers; an intelligent decision that kept the dream alive until the end. It’s definitely worth mentioning that Jordan Shrier blew his ITB at the beginning of his second lap and Pierre-Alexandre Cardinal and Martin drunkenly made up the difference in the wee hours of the morning. What an absolute shitshow.
As the clock ticked down, the remaining cheer squad ballooned with excitement as the last runners were joined by the rest of their teams for one final victory lap. Even I, morning beer in hand (as if I was going to be drinking coffee), found myself running alongside the same two people who refused to give up on me the night before. The final seconds expired and gave way to a shower of champagne and elation as the total kilometers were tallied. Team Curd-Side Pickup amassed a whopping 326.11 kilometers, followed closely by Fries B4 Guys with 323.66. RUNK Dream Team, despite all of its nightmares, pulled through with a respectable 312.5 kilometers.
I try to come away from these experiences with some kind of lesson learned. TSP DIY 2021 certainly did not fail to deliver. First, developing a sensible strategy is critical in relay races. That one is obvious. Second, 600 milligrams of caffeine and running simply don’t mix, at least not for me. Finally, women are clearly far superior at decision making than men. But we knew that already, didn’t we?
2022 is here, folks. TSP DIY is coming back and it might be a decent time to start honing in your strategies. Huge thanks to Ma Bicyclette for being our gracious hosts, feeding us fresh croissants, and allowing us to use their facilities. Get ready for another wild ride, tout le monde, but take notes: Develop a sound strategy more than a couple days before race day, plot a reasonable course, and above all, please refrain from overdosing on caffeine. It’s not a good look.
