This year has been a strange one.

My fitness has reached its highest peak, perhaps ever.

And it seems almost dangerous to write that the results haven’t exactly showcased that thus far.

I’m on my way now to one of the coolest spots on earth – La Malbaie, Quebec. For one of the coolest races in Canada, and my undeniable favourite, Ultra-Trail Harricana.

Last year, I arrived at the 42K Classique with a nagging knee injury, but in one of the most pressure-free states of my adult life.

La Malbaie became both my home and my escape from the “real world”, living the “professional athlete” lifestyle with zero pressure on myself to perform.

Given the knee injury and the acceptance that UTHC might end up being my final race of the season, I existed in a state of just being happy to be there.

At the start line, Charles Castonguay asked me if I wanted to work together. I knew it would be perfect, but I knew racing my own race would be even perfecter. So I basically said “if my knee holds up!”

I knew the course inside out, knew exactly how I would play my cards at every section of the race, attacked exactly when I wanted to, and moved from fourth to second in the final third, on his splits from the year before, to finish only behind him.

It was one of the best races of my life, probably only on par with my Sulphur Springs 20K win, and my 10K PB – a National XC Championship that I finished like 112th or something.

And alongside those two performances, it was also my most relaxed race.

I can remember only two negative thoughts in the entire race last year…

• Maybe I am racing this trail marathon like a 50K and leaving too much space to catch them later on.
• My knee hurts, I will slow down and let them go for now.

In both instances, I decided that I didn’t care about what Charlie and Francis were doing ahead of me. I was running winning splits from the year before, at a sustainable effort, and stayed patient – knowing I could make my move up the climb in Mont Grand Fonds.

It was the kind of mature and patient racing that I’ve done in all of my best trail races.

The common recipe for success has always been…

✅ Caring less and not being outcome dependent

✅ Remaining relaxed and patient

✅ Starting conservative

✅ Running my own race

The recipe for a lower-grade race has always been…

❎ Running like a madman

❎ Racing at a pace dictated by others

❎ Burning too many mental matches and caring about the wrong things.

And most of the time this year, a chance to “prove my fitness” against other names has meant that I’ve raced like a madman, at a pace dictated by others, caring about the wrong things.

I’ve cared too much about combatting the way that others are baking, rather than utilizing my own recipe for baking my best bread.

So I don’t want the UTHC 28K to be this quest for a “good race” for arguably the first time this year (Duchesnay was pretty good but it was also my first time competing in a water sport, and I let that get to me too much!).

But I do want to be keenly aware of the recipe that’s allowed for a “good race” in the past. If I can hold more true to these approaches, at least I can say that I “raced smart, worked hard, and had fun”, which is all I really want to do – independent of outcome or place.

Either way, I’m excited to be back “home” and to see so much of the trail running community out and about again.

Onto Harricana 🏔️!

Thanks for reading and see you soon.