“Rocks!”

Those were the only words Dylan and I spoke to each other for the first thirty-five kilometres of a forty-two kilometre race. The words came at a moment when I saw that he’d just pulled out his flask, and I knew what was about to come on the technical course in front of us (rocks). I didn’t want him to lose focus or balance on the rocks, so I warned him with that short phrase.

I planned on getting his name immediately after, knowing that the giant river rocks would end in loose gravel rocky road – a much more manageable type of rock. For the first 4k, we were mostly in survival mode – navigating the mud. The race had allowed an early start for anyone who didn’t care about the podium and wanted to ensure they completed the course within the time limit. I thought it would impact us by having to navigate around additional obstacles other than just rocks and roots. But it turned out to impact us way more on how it tore apart the course before the rest of us could make our way.

On the one hand, that was a significant advantage to me. I knew the course. I knew the sections that were most dangerous in mud. I knew what was around the corner at every turn. And above all, I’ve always taken the Manuel Merillas approach. That is – the worse the conditions, the better for me. I don’t have that raw speed that Dylan and some of the others I’m competing against (the Rob’s and Reid’s of the world) can pull out. I rely on my ability to dominate downhills, technical terrain, tough conditions, and just the general mental strength to push through the tough moments and delay suffering as long as possible.

But it also meant that as we trudged through the mud, I didn’t have a chance to fully clarify if he was in fact Dylan Pust, the runner I’d only met for a brief second after he won the Sulphur Springs 50k. He quickly disappeared that day after running one of the fastest times ever done, on a slightly longer course than ever before. Dylan’s been at each of my races so far this year, including the historic Around the Bay 30k (a road race), where he finished 12th and ran 3:39/km. Yikes.

So no surprise that after we navigated the rocky terrain of the first kilometre together, he pulled out what felt like a thirty-second gap on the very first road. I figured that I’d catch up to him on the trails. But I didn’t realize that I’d catch up within less than fifteen seconds of navigating the muddy downhills. I knew my HR and pace were hotter than I’d intended for the day, even with the mud, but I knew I could also send an immediate message to him of just how comfortable I was navigating the mud.

We hit a grassy uphill just before the 5km mark, and I let him go. Staying slow and steady on uphills was something that I worked on thanks to Brett’s advice about a month before the race. But again, another clear indication. Dylan’s VO2, his aerobic engine, his power going uphill – it’s something else.

It took less than fifteen seconds again for me to rope him back in, as we navigated a mostly downhill section of the mud once more. It was then that I decided I’d get his name once we hit the road, and also then that I warned him about the rocks.

So we approached one of the most legendary sections of the race neck and neck, about seven kilometres into the race, just in time for me to introduce myself! But before I could, Dylan’s Around the Bay speed kicked in.

I’m sure he was holding back just as much as me, but I’m sure his version of holding back on a downhill lasting a kilometre is different than mine. I’d discussed just how slow to take that downhill with Brett prior to the race. Even then, I took it faster than the 50k pace he recommended, keeping Dylan in my sights and rolling with the hill.

It was then that I witnessed one of the most superhuman feats I’ve ever seen from a competitor at a race. Dylan’s not on Strava (and neither is Charlie Sikkema who has the course record), so we may never know. But I am 150,000% confident he smashed the 1.4km uphill on Graham’s Hill faster than anyone before. Staying “relaxed”, I again let him go and hit the uphill more than a minute slower than Reid Coolsaet when he won in 2021. I reached the turn just in time to see Dylan going over the first fence climber of the race.

“This is so exciting. He’s not good in the mud but he’s gapping me on every uphill.” I said to my dedicated crew (my mom – water support, and dad – mostly taking pictures and saying “nice!”). Having already come close to finishing an entire bottle 9km in, I also told them I’d need two bottles at Hogg’s Falls (18km), rather than just one.

I had been particularly excited knowing that there was about a 2km section of trail before about 1km of grass and road, so I knew I could likely close the gap to about 30-seconds again. I reached the grass just in time for him to turn around and see me, where he immediately restored his gap to unattainable levels again. Give me a chance Dylan!

The next section of the course would suit me – mostly downhill, but also lots of rocks and insanely technical downhills that you would simply do better having practiced where to put your feet. I caught him just before it went back up, but had to make my voice heard to avoid some of the early starters. Whether he heard me coming or not, it was an uphill either way, and he disappeared again.

At that point, I started to wonder if I hadn’t taken in enough fuel. I’d been drinking well, but thought I might not have started with enough carbohydrates in my first bottle. So when I picked up the next two bottles at Hogg’s Falls, I made quick work of them. I knew we were entering the longest stretch of trail in the entire race, and that this was my time to shine. Unfortunately, my calves had other ideas.

Not even halfway into a marathon, and my calves (of all strange things) decided they were not having as much fun as me (how dare they).

I slowed down significantly on every uphill to massage, while trying to do what I could on the downhills to still make up ground. I past the last (or rather the first) early starter just after Eugenia Falls, and he said that Dylan had put on a three-minute gap. First place felt slightly out of reach (even though it shouldn’t have felt that way), and a fun downhill section of the course that I knew I could crush suddenly became some of my slower kilometres in the race. I knew I needed more electrolytes, and that I’d likely be drinking a ton in the second half, so I stopped at a tree just before the road leading into the second go around of Graham’s Hill. It’s worth noting that this stoppage was about forty-five seconds.

At the top of Graham’s Hill, I had two missions. One – fix the cramps. Two – catch Dylan. Three – try and get close to Matt’s winning time of last year – 3h56m. I put my best mission face on and filled up with Scratch and Gatorade before taking a third bottle of water from my mom (first time ever stopping at an aid station). The aid station volunteers thought the same as the guy at Eugenia Falls – Dylan was just three minutes away. Manageable, but sizable enough to make life difficult.

Still, I knew we were approaching a long section of technical trail with loads of downhill and only the tiniest bit of road. This had always been the section of the course that I planned on doing damage. So on I went!

I’m not sure if it was FOMO or what, but my left hamstring then decided it wanted to join the cramp party with my calves, making every downhill more difficult.

I ran my slowest kilometre as I rued the fact that I still had to survive twelve more with a cramped hamstring, letting my HR drop to the lowest it had been since the start. Fortunately, soon after the long downhill section, I knew what was coming – the gnarliest uphill in the entire race. What a change of tune to be looking forward to an uphill! I knew I could use the rockiness leading into the ski hill to drink, walk and massage my hamstring. That worked like a charm on the hamstring, but the calves were still having their own pity party.

Nevertheless, I ran just about every step of the ski hill. And despite the wonderfully crafted narrative I’ve composed so far of his uphill strength and my muddy trail strength, I’m sure this is actually where I made up the most ground. He told me after the race that he walked just about the entire thing. But at the time, I had no idea.

I just continued to do my thing, drinking away, massaging my hamstring, and trying to politely tell all the cramps to go away. But something about the mud made my worries go away. We were approaching the only section of the course where I’d get a glimpse of him, as he’d have to turn around from the final aid station back in my direction. But as I continued to run and continued not to see him, I assumed that he decided to go on a vision quest and chase Charlie’s course record. This is Dylan Pust after all (I thought, although I still didn’t know his name).

Then out of the blue, he appeared.
“Good job.” I said, trying to sound like I was beaming with energy.
“Good job.” He repeated, not quite as beaming.

Feeling happy that we’d just spoken our second and third words to each other, I strided along the mud. Then out of the blue, the aid station appeared. Remember that 3-minute gap? I’d just closed it to 45-seconds. But as per usual at the end of a trail race, I had another dilemma. My watch said 37km. I’d finished all three of my bottles and wanted more electrolytes to ensure my hamstring cramp wouldn’t return. I had enough downhill speed to catch him on the long stretch of downhill to the finish. So I stopped one final time to fill up with more Gatorade. It tasted so good!

For the next five kilometres (or maybe four – darn watch!), I sipped with every single step. I kept on hoping I’d see him, but also knew he’d be pushing since we just saw each other and I didn’t have the opportunity to sneak attack. I didn’t want my hamstring explosion to come back like it did at Sulphur Springs, and my watch was about a kilometre behind. So I stayed patient. More patient than I should have. Because my final 500m was absolutely killer. I clearly had so much more still to give aerobically, even if my legs didn’t agree. I kicked to the end in the 3:20’s (per/km), and ended the race 45 seconds behind his stellar 3:56:06 finish. Three missions somewhat accomplished, even though I only had two.

“What’s your name?” I finally got the chance to ask.
“Dylan.”

I knew it.

It’s the first year of trail for the both of us, we’re both mid-twenties, and we’re both podium finishers at two of Ontario’s craziest trail races now. I think Dylan will be a great training partner to have in the coming months, and I’m so pumped now for The Bad Thing in October, knowing that I’ve accomplished exactly what I wanted at both Sulphur Springs and Falling Water now. Onto the next! 🍓

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