When it comes to trail running, I don’t hold hands.
It sounds lovely and sportsmanlike, and all.
But I much prefer to fight to the death.
I’ve had photo finishes in most of my races. Yesterday was one of my favourites.
And while I’ve had a few sprint finishes in 50K’s, shorter racing just allows for a more dramatic, prolonged showdown, where you have to fight every step to the line.
This is one of the reasons why I’ve opted to go down in distance on the trails – throwing my hat into a ring of pure racing.
As Sage The Gemini says, you really just have to “speed up, gas pedal.”
And what better race to test that, than arguably the most competitive sub-ultra trail race of this distance in Canada.
The Ultra-Trail Harricana 28K is cool for several reasons…
✅ It takes place in one of the most beautiful spots in Canada – La Malbaie, Quebec.
✅ It incorporates a wide range of not only gorgeous but hilly terrain, where you’re either going uphill or downhill the entire time. No road. No flat. Some technical, but mostly just runnable, rugged trail.
✅ It’s one of the “elite application” races at “the biggest participated race in Canada”.
But the coolest thing about it from my perspective is the way it brings together a wide range of talent.
Those that specialize in shorter mountain races like Christopher Levesque-Savard and Louis Moreau, can converge in the same race with long-trail legends like the two-name Jean’s – Jean-Francois Cauchon and Jean-Philippe Thibodeau.
Anne-Marie Comeau (Vertical), Jean-Philippe (Long-Trail) and Chris (Classic Mountain) can all use it as a tune-up for different events in three weeks from now when they put on their Team Canada bibs in Spain.
And that is so cool.
To be a part of that, toeing the line with all of these prolific Quebec trail racers, was so cool.
All eight of us toed the front of the line together, no one hiding. Everyone chummy, ego-free and fist-bumping. No hand-holding, but certainly hand-clasping.
And talking to Chris before the race, I knew he wanted to make his mark – closing a four minute gap from the year before when Jean-Philippe won 🏅 and he finished fourth.
So it was no surprise that off the gun, Chris went off the front, with Jean-Philippe leading and Louis Moreau tailing behind.
The remaining five or six of us formed a second pack, with Alexis Giguere leading and Benoît Didier and I tucked behind.
The Harricana 28K starts with a series of sustained uphills, all at a runnable, inviting grade.
But as you can likely see if you watch the video above, Chris and Jean-Philippe took off at an obscene pace (it’s crazy to think that some humans out there even run faster than this).
The first victim of that blistering pace was Louis Moreau, who I’ve now raced three times this year. I’m a big fan of Louis, and I really enjoyed running with him in the opening stages of the QMT 50K, where we shared a fun bridge encounter.
Alexis and Jean-Francois made clean passes on Louis, and when it was my turn, I said “Good job Louis!” in my worst French, telepathically inviting him to stay with me.
Louis telepathically accepted my invitation, and I’m sure it was reassuring for him to see me – someone who he has beaten before.
After the race, Louis told me that I “brought him back from the dead”.
He was so not dead.
It was early enough in the race that I was surprised to hear him say this, but it makes sense. When you get swept away by someone as talented as Jean-Francois, it can be discouraging.
When it’s someone who you can confidently say you are faster than, you snap out of your funk, remember who you are, and hang on.
And I was so pleased that Louis did exactly that throughout the next several kilometres.
We ran together without ever touching hands, running the uphills, bombing the downhills, and leaping across the technical.
I felt extremely confident at this stage for three reasons:
✅ At one point, he remarked to a spectator “trop vite!” (French for those other guys were too fast so now I’m with Rhys!).
✅ He followed my line on every technical downhill (a sign of trust and respect ✊).
✅ He didn’t make the move to pass me as we continued rampaging along.
We worked together so well that we even clawed our way back to Jean-Francois Cauchon.
And it was at this point that I decided to have a sweet sweet XACT Nutrition lemon fruit bar 🍋.
It was forty minutes in, and for whatever reason, I had been feeling faint for most of the opening kilometres.
I struggled to take in liquid, but gels and bars were going down great. So I adapted my nutrition plan to take in less liquid carbs and more through XACT.
And as I opened the lemon fruit bar, Louis used that as his precise moment to surge ahead toward J.F. Cauchon.
That’s okay. You will bridge back up once your done.
That was the plan. Eat first, then gap the gap.
But the more he gapped, the more I relaxed.
Instead of covering the move, I focused on bringing my heart-rate down, and telling myself the lightheadedness wasn’t real.
But in the span of those few seconds, Louis was gone. He was just trop vite for me.
And so I ran the next few minutes alone, with the pack of others closing the more I relaxed.
It was a guy named Cyril who caught me first, charging down a steep jeep road descent, followed then by Benoît.
Trop vite, I told myself in English, holding my place, and knowing there to be plenty of technical downhills still to come.
But as soon as we hit the technical terrain again, their pace fell flat, and I felt stagnant behind the two of them.
I knew immediately that I had a decision to make. Stay behind them on the narrow singletrack and risk never catching up to anyone ahead, OR… make my move.
So, feeling stronger again, I took the first moment I could to rampage past them, regaining my lead just before we hit an open section of downhill grass toward the first aid station.
Now this is my favourite section of the Harricana race course, and a section I know supremely well, having stayed in La Malbaie for two weeks prior to the 42K last year.
I don’t even think there’s an uphill anywhere on any race course that I love more than this neverending climb. It’s at a perfect grade the entire time, allowing you to run it for 20-minutes, if you dare. Most don’t dare. And that’s exactly why I love it.
Having done this climb so many times, I know exactly what pace and heart-rate I can hold to run the entire thing, without breaking myself.
And so after dousing myself in water at the aid station (the aid station volunteers were incredible – responding so quickly both times I needed them), I began my favourite climb.
Only, I was not alone.
I was being hunted by one of the best uphill runners in the world. Anne-Marie Comeau.
If you know me and you don’t know Anne-Marie, let me be the one to tell you that she was 15th at the World Championships in the vertical race back in 2023.
No exaggeration – one of the best uphill runners in the world.
And I know all of this, but this neverending climb also happens to have a whopping Strava segment CR by a certain someone.
So despite the talent on display, I felt confident that I could hold my own.
What started as “Good job Anne-Marie! You’re awesome!” turned into a 14K battle together, running every single step, other than when we were sprinting.
And just like the confidence I gained from leading Louis, I gained even more confidence as Anne-Marie made the conscious decision to let me(!) lead her up the climb like a Mont Grand Fonds tour guide.
We ran every step of that climb together, completely locked into a singular pace and rhythm, my heart rate consistently between 167-171, as I “bonjour’ed” all the hiking runners from other races for the both of us.
Now this neverending climb is neverending, but it does incorporate a few brief moments of downhill. And I really trust my fatigue resistance when it comes to downhills.
So at every opportunity, I would make a teeny-tiny gap on the former Olympian as we descended, only to be clawed back as soon as we hit an ascent.
The entire time, I felt confident that I could kick strong to the finish, as I’m yet to truly lose a battle of the kick. Must be the former soccer stuff in me.
But I could never shake her.
I wasn’t trop vite for her. I was equally vite!
And this was part of the magic as we lockstepped toward the final aid station.
As much as I felt like she was helping me to lock in, I also felt like I might have been helping her. In reality, she had run 2:29 last year to win the thing, and likely was just trying to beat her own time.
But I can’t help but feel that having me, and my poorly spoken French to battle with, helped all the more.
So as we made our way to the final aid station, I asked for “l’eau on my head” in Frenglish, and adjusted my bottles.
Anne-Marie meanwhile rolled on, and entered the technical trail in front.
As she spoke to me in French and I spoke to her in English, we mutually decided that I would sprint ahead again.
This is where I finally break her, I thought.
That thought only carried on when I hit the final prolonged descent. Soaring away from any fears, I glanced down at my watch to see “2:55”.
That’s not a race time, but a pace time.
I had let myself get into the low 3:00/km range on the downhill, hoping I’d see Louis or J.F. now that there was a wide enough view. But as the view I wanted to see never came, I had a point of view that came instead.
Best to slow down. Don’t want the legs to blow up with 4K to go.
Feeling like I had made my decisive move, I glanced over my shoulder to see ANNE-MARIE STILL RIGHT THERE! IS SHE WEARING MOON-BOOTS??
This is when I knew… This is going to be another photo finish.
And so I continued to charge.
Every single downhill I’d make a tiny gap ✅ .
Every single uphill she’d close the gap ❎.
Every single kilometre marker that ticked by, I maintained a five second lead. But she never faded.
Probably caring more about beating her time than me, she kept fighting tooth and nail to stay at my heels.
And when we hit the final kilometre, it was go-time. I laid down a 3:10/km GAP, maintained my distance, and sprinted all the way to the line to hold onto sixth.
And without even holding my own hand, as a volunteer pointed to a trash can in case I wanted to throw up, I nosedived into the oranges and watermelons, before being death complimented by Louis and congratulating everyone else.
I was so proud, and so in awe of everyone around me.
It wasn’t about sixth place or who I beat, it was about my process goals.
Before the race, I spoke to Coach Jade about wanting to blend together a knack for racing other people, with a previous lack this season of focusing on myself.
Throughout the 31K, I felt like I raced with intentionality, and made good, correct decisions at every key moment.
Every time I had a thought about what someone else was doing, I always reframed it back to what I was doing and how I was feeling.
For example, when I found myself in awe of Anne-Marie’s uphill talent, I reframed it back to my ability to hold my own at a steady heart-rate.
When Benoît and Cyril motored past me on an early downhill, I felt confident that I would get them back. And I did, not even five minutes later.
When Anne-Marie was wearing moon boots on that downhill, I stayed confident that I could continue to kick.
And when I felt like I wanted to faint, I told myself it wasn’t real. Over and over again until it wasn’t real.
Out of all my goals coming into this race, this is what I wanted to emphasize.
To focus on my race, and not the race of others.
Especially in a race where imposter syndrome can creep up if you’re not prepared to roll with the punches and hold your ground.
So while it may only be sixth; and it may only be 2:28; I’m incredibly proud of my efforts on the day, fighting to press the gas pedal throughout.
And as I said before the race, all I want to do is be smart ✅, work hard ✅, and have fun ✅.
Mission accomplished ✅ .
Thank you to Coach Jade for the fun training for this race and the huge words of wisdom pre-race; XACT for the tasty electrolytes and lemon fruit bars; the Quebec trail running community for being so welcoming to my Frenglish once more; and Harricana for another amazing event.
Next year I’ll be back for the Trail Running Cup in Quebec, and can’t wait to race many of these guys and gals again.
Thanks for reading and see you soon!
Rhys Desmond 