OK, I lied. Some people may not consider me to be a midpacker. After all, I’ve qualified for Boston more than 50 times so I never thought I would be a back-of-the-packer, struggling to make cutoff times. But that’s exactly what happened to my partner, Stacey Shand, and me at the eight-day Trans-Alpine Run in 2011. I especially did not expect the struggle after having done the six-day Trans-Rockies Run two years before. But owing to being trailand altitude-challenged, I can give you an honest midpacker’s perspective for the Trans-Rockies.

I’ve charted a summary of each day’s distances, climbs, and elevations for Trans-Rockies compared with Trans-Alps. Yes, Trans-Rockies has considerably more of its route at high altitude, but Trans-Alps has longer climbs, steeper climbs, and much longer days. Yet these numerical facts don’t really sum up the difference between the two events. To put it succinctly, Trans-Rockies is pure fun while Trans-Alps is pure challenge.

Trans-Alps run Our low point at Trans-Alps 2011 came on the penultimate day. This was day seven, and with six days in and 126 miles done, we should have felt confident about finishing. Yet here we were, partner Stacey Shand and I, struggling up a 4,000-foot climb for the last hour and a half. It’s the longest and steepest climb I’ve ever made, with each step needing to be placed precisely on the shifting rocks. I thought I might be hallucinating, but I thought I was hearing “Amazing Grace” on some sort of brass instrument. Unbelievable! It was hard enough for me to drag my body up this hill, but some spectator hauled both himself and his French horn. We reached the top, slid downhill on our butts, and prayed for the downhill to end. For the last three days, the unrelenting steep downhills stretched and inflamed the tendons on the front of my shins, and although I was thoroughly

© Sportograf

▲ Gay and Stacey cruise through one of the more runnable trails on Day 1 at Trans-Alps.

Trans-Alps 2011 Distance (mi)

Climb (ft)

Max elevation (ft)

Day 1

Oberstdorf, GER to Hirschegg, AUT

17

5,900

7,000

Day 2

Hirschegg to Schruns

31

8,000

7,000

Day 3

Schruns to Galtur

26

5,900

8,000

Day 4

Galtur, AUT to Scuol, SWI

25

7,700

9,000

Day 5

Scuol bergsprint

4

3,100

7,000

Day 6

Scuol, SWI to Mals, ITA

23

4,400

7,000

Day 7

Mals to Schlanders

23

6,800

10,000

Day 8

Schlanders to Latsch

18

5,900

8,000

Distance (mi)

Climb (ft)

Max elevation (ft)

Trans-Rockies 2012

Day 1

Buena Vista to Railroad Bridge

21

2,500

9,300

Day 2

Vicksburg to Twin Lakes

13

3,200

12,500

Day 3

Leadville to Nova Guides

24

2,800

10,900

Day 4

Nova Guides to Red Cliff

14

2,900

11,700

Day 5

Red Cliff to Vail

23

4,100

11,700

Day 6

Vail to Beaver Creek

22

4,900

10,000

bandaged, each step was excruciating. We finished up in Mals, Italy, passing by patio cafes with the faster runners sipping their cappuccinos and applauding politely as we ran by. It was a far cry from the hope and excitement we had felt at the start of the race.

Five nights previously, schoolchildren march in with the flags of all the nations represented, and we eight Canadians cheer madly. The next morning, we’re squished in the starting chute, surrounded by more than 600 competitors from more than 30 countries and hearing a babble of languages. The start line is resoundingly urban and commercial—flags, arches, banners, spectators. The foreign languages are then suddenly replaced by raucous American heavy metal, “Keep on Runnin’” and “Highway to Hell.” We run from Oberstdorf, Germany, to Hirschegg, Austria. What a thrill to start in one country and end up in another. We run out

of town past Gasthauses adorned with Bavarian-style trim and through country roads, eventually doing some short, steep climbs and descents on rocky technical path. Spectators call out “Hup, hup” and “Zuppah” (“super”). Stacey and I are happy with our new alpine poles and happier still when we jog into Hirschegg an hour ahead of the cutoff, enter the Trans-Alps finishing chute, and soak our feet in cold water in the town fountain. But then we learn of one crucial mistake. I had signed us up for camping since it was so much fun at Trans-Rockies 2009. At Trans-Alps, we are not in individual tents but in a high school gym, spaced three feet apart and surrounded 90 percent by men—most of them wearing tiny Speedo-type underwear. This sounds like the backdrop of a groovy dance feature from Mamma Mia. In reality, frankly, it’s disturbing. Stacey and I survive the night and make a pact: we must get into hotels for the remaining nights. Fortunately, the organizers, Uta in particular, are completely sympathetic and help us find hotels each night.

Day 2: Trans-Alps, Hirschegg to Schruns What a gruesome day! So much stress. Will we make the 12-hour cutoff? The climbs are unbelievably steep, and the heat makes it tougher. Sadly, 32 of the 313 teams do not make the cutoff. The high point of the day, both literally and figuratively, is getting pictures taken at the top of the pass with friends Brent and Wolfgang. We enter town very anticlimactically; most of the other runners are gone to their hotels. We cross the finish line, schlep our heavy duffel bags three hilly blocks to the pension, and manage to walk across town to the group pasta party—more cutlets and pasta. We’re so tired that we’re not fully appreciative when we get to watch children dance dressed in lederhosen and kirtles and grownups blow horns that are 15 feet long. Day 3: Trans-Alps, Schruns to Galtur European breakfast of cheese, eggs, bread, ham. Once we’re running, the weather turns rainy and miserable. We hear ubiquitous cowbells, run past exotic-looking cows, and enter a bog much like something from the Lord of the Rings movies. Once again, I find it impossible to place my feet quickly, and we fall farther and farther behind. Hypothermia sets in. There is finally a runnable downhill, on a road no less, but running is difficult; the front of my shin is hurting with each step down the steep asphalt. We’re pleased to beat the cutoffs once again. We wait an hour for organizers to help us find a hotel. Thankfully, Uta comes through—no more gym! Day 4: Trans-Alps, Galtur, Austria, to Scuol, Switzerland The end of today’s run is just like one of my recurring running nightmares but in the nicest sense possible. The road narrows as we enter town onto cobblestone

streets. One-story houses on the sides of the road give way to three- and four-story buildings on either side of us with windows and balconies looking down onto our road that narrows and narrows into a lane of about 10 feet. Volunteers direct us through many turns: right, right, then a quick left. We can’t see more than 20 feet ahead and are directed through this narrow, steep maze into the center of town. We finish in a beautiful town square and head off to our pension for the night. At supper that night, we were too tired to wait to hear the English translation of announcements.

Day 5: Trans-Alps, Scuol bergsprint Day five departs from the customary Trans-Alps format of climbing, descending, traveling from one town to the next, and covering a good distance. This is the bergsprint—a one-hour race up the ski hill followed by picnic lunch at the chalet. Yee haw, my shins are happy with the thought of no downhill on the run today. We gather at the top of the ski hill after the race, hang out with the other Canadians, and take the gondola down. Stacey and I have supper at a swanky restaurant with good wine, soup of chanterelle mushrooms, and a most delicious goulash. What a relief to have an easy day. It feels like a day off. I almost feel human.

Day 6: Trans-Alps, Scuol, Switzerland, to Mals, Italy This is a day that should be quite runnable, but each step is a jackhammer of pain. I’m taped up, but each foot landing makes me wish for childbirth instead. The route is one of the most scenic paths on the tour as we enter Italy. A cut line in the cliff of the mountain enabled Italy to move its soldiers around in World War II. We stride up the path chiseled into the dark rock, through a long tunnel, and out into more narrow path cut into the cliff. The Lord of the Rings theme continues as I tell Stacey that we’re going to Mordor.

Day 8: Trans-Alps, Schlanders to Latsch Finally, the last day. Organizers still don’t take it easy on us. We grit our way up some tough climbs, stifle ouches with every downhill step, but still, we keep jogging. We go past an ancient castle, a mile or so through a sunny orchard, and onto the last cobblestone streets of Latsch. We speed through the town and exultantly pass through the finishing arch, laughing, crying, and hugging. We are both so happy with the ungraspable fact that we made it and it’s over. Congratulations and many photos ensue among our English-speaking friends. I am thrilled to see that my British friend, Neil Rhodes, not only finished Trans-Alps but also TransRockies run, Trans-Rockies bike, and Trans-Alps bike, all in the same summer. He sports four medals around his neck.

Trans-Rockies run Day 1: Trans-Rockies, Buena Vista to Railroad Bridge

Courtesy of Gay Renouf

The memories of last year’s Trans-Alps were vividly in mind as I stood with my new partner, Denise Harry, at the start of the Trans-Rockies race. Denise is an experienced ultrarunner (Death Race 75-miler, Jim Bridger 30-miler) but has never been in a six-day race, and she is excited! We gather in the chute and listen to the same music as at Trans-Alps, but there the similarities end. We leave Buena Vista, and the altitude of 8,000 feet immediately makes us short of breath, so we walk and jog through the sandy path with gorgeous desert flora on both sides. The climbs are gentle, the path not technical, and the worst part turns out to be the road! We survive the hot four-mile slog on the asphalt to the finish at the railway bridge where we’re surrounded by other excited runners. We go down to the creek and soak our feet in the icy water. Back at camp we get showered, hang out in the La Sportiva beer tent, and whisper in star-struck tones: that’s Max King over there; that’s Gordy Ainsleigh. At night I get lost and can’t find our tent among the 200-plus others. The stars are so brilliant, I don’t even care that it takes me 15 minutes to figure it out.

▲ Denise and an unknown runner cool their feet at the end of Day 1 at Trans-Rockies.

Day 2: Trans-Rockies, Vicksburg to Twin Lakes We start packing our mascots with us, and now everyone wants to talk with us. Our team name, the Yodeling Mountain Gophers, is a variation of our Trans-Alps team name of Canadian Mountain Gophers. We educate everyone we can as to the irony of the name. We’re from the prairies, where there are no mountains but lots of gophers. We’re running in the mountains, where usually there are no gophers, and no us. Too bad everyone wants to talk because the 12,500-foot altitude makes me incapable of stringing more than two words together. Not partner Denise—she chats happily with everyone around us. We go over the top and run and trip our way through the second-most technical trails of the week, which are merely some rocks sticking up and a bunch of roots. We go hang out with runners from New York, Washington, and Vancouver. We put on fake mustaches, get into a stare-down contest with frequent M&B writer Jeff Horowitz, take many pictures, and feast on the pasta with heaps of fresh pesto. Denise sings a lullaby to her 5-year-old over the phone, hangs up, and the guy in the next tent calls out, “Thanks, Mom.” Day 3: Trans-Rockies, Leadville to Nova Guides

Courtesy of Gay Renouf

I am still sucking wind doing the gradual uphills, but after 10 miles, we reach a gorgeous dirt trail through a pine forest. We swoop and glide downward, enjoying the smell, chatting with the aid-station volunteers about our gophers. More

▲ Gay and Denise celebrate at the summit of Bowman’s Pass on Day 5 of the Trans-Rockies.

laughs at dinner and campsite. The new campsite at Nova Guides is spacious and relaxing. We join the baggage handlers at their tailgate tequila party to help them celebrate a two-day stay at the same camp, meaning that no bags need to be moved. We skip the s’mores and banjo music around the campfire.

Day 4: Trans-Rockies, Nova Guides to Red Cliff Another big climbing day. We make it to the top of the mountain, ham it up for the cameras, posing and yodeling, ’cuz that’s what gophers do. We enjoy the satirical videos presented each night at the ceremony—something that works only because almost everyone speaks English. Day 5: Trans-Rockies, Red Cliff to Vail I’m finally growing some new red blood cells. We run most of the race, finishing strongly, and celebrate with beer, massage, and generally being silly. We sport fake mustaches brought by Colin from Washington and enjoy the many comments on our new style. Our story about the mustaches continues to evolve. At first we were seeking a Canadian hockey playoff look: you grow facial hair to be stronger and have more stamina. Hey, it works for hockey players! When Colin runs out of mustaches, we tell everyone that our East German coach told us to shave lest we get drug- or gender-tested. Yes, the gophers are giddy. Supper is a feast of prime rib, barbecued portobello mushrooms, pineapples, and peppers. I must say the food, catered by Cowboy Tom, has been amazing. Day 6: Trans-Rockies, Vail to Beaver Creek It’s the last day. We know we’ll finish, but day six turns out to be the toughest of all, with lengthy sections of technical trails. The last three miles are two miles up the switchbacks of the Beaver Creek ski trail and one mile down. Whee. We retrieve our stuffed gophers from our packs and wave them madly as we cross the finish line. What a feeling! At Trans-Alps, Stacey and I were bound together by mutual suffering and our common goal. I’ve never been so thrilled to finish something, likely because a finish seemed so impossible at times. We’ve made a fast friendship, yet memories are not happy and light. I think of Trans-Alps with pride in our grit and persistence. Trans-Rockies was so much more, well, fun. You could say we made our own fun, but it happened because we had enough nonrunning time to enjoy ourselves, and we were surrounded by other runners feeling the same way. My finish at Trans-Rockies with Denise was much different. It didn’t have the relief and surprise of finishing Trans-Alps, but we both know we did something special together. We’re buoyed by all the friendships we made, the fun we had, and the joy of sharing the run.