Race Recap: Quebec Mega Trail 100 Miles (Part 2)
The Quebec Mega Trail (QMT) is a beautiful and challenging ultra trail race that traverses the banks of the St. Lawrence River in Québec, and lives up to its reputation as one of the most challenging trail races in Canada. The point-to-point 100 mile (160km) course links steep and technical trails that connect the Massif de Charlevoix and Mont-Sainte-Anne mountains in the region and includes a number of river crossings, steep climbs, suspension bridges, waterfalls, and spectacular views throughout the trail. 2022 marked the 10th anniversary of the event, and the 2nd edition of the 100mile race. Over the weekend, there were over 2500 runners competing in distances ranging from 1km to the 110km and 100mile ultra categories. It was an incredibly well-organized event and truly felt like a celebration of trail running! Here’s a recap of my experience in this year’s 100 mile event.
Here’s a link to part one (race prep and journey to QMT): Race Recap (Part 1)
Baie-Saint-Paul to Saint-Tite-Des-Caps (Start to 80km)
The start of this race could not have been more memorable! Just as runners lined up in the start corral, the skies opened up and it started to pour. A loud clap of thunder mixed with the beat of the music, the cheers of the crowd, and the countdown to the start. We took off along the coastal trail and almost immediately the rain stopped, leaving a double rainbow over the water. It felt like a good omen for the beginning of a race, and I smiled thinking about that as we followed the first section of trail along the coast, through town and into the first mountain climbs.
I went out a little fast from the start, running at a pace that felt comfortable on the road/flat gravel trail but that was speedier than I usually would like to go during a 100 mile race. I told myself this was okay since it was so flat at the start but reminded myself to keep the pace sustainable and not get caught up in the excitement of the start. I found myself running alongside two others just a few kilometres into the race, and as we all settled into a rhythm together we introduced ourselves. Bastien, from Vancouver, was back for the second 100 miler and hoping to beat his own time on the course from last year (he was no stranger to endurance events, having previously hiked the PCT). Robin was visiting from Switzerland and is an experienced ultrarunner who seemed focused and ready to tackle the climbs on the trail ahead. I enjoyed the company and their energy at the start of the race, it was nice to meet other runners and exchange a few stories while we were all feeling fresh. We chatted for a bit until naturally falling into our own pace on a hillier section, and I wouldn’t see them again until the finish line where I learned Bastien came in third and Robin in fifth overall!
Since the race started at 8pm, it wasn’t long before I needed to turn on my headlamp to see the rooty and rocky trails underfoot. The first segment involved a long climb up into the mountains. I settled into a nice rhythm on the trails, sipping water and eating consistently, and was feeling great. After two years of canceled races due to the pandemic, I felt grateful to be back at a trail race again and for the opportunity to share it with my family. It felt familiar and exciting to be out here, and also a little thrilling to be back to finish a race that I had DNFd in 2019. I also felt focused, strong, and ready to embrace being out on the trail for as long as it took to finish. The course was well marked along the way with a mix of flagging tape and reflective arrows that my headlamp would illuminate from a distance. I flew past the small group of volunteers gathered at the 12km mark (the race organizers had added a water stop here after the previous year’s race when competitors were running out of water early in the race) and felt energized by their cheers.
Originally, I had planned that my parents would skip the first two crew-accessible aid stations I would pass through overnight so that they could sleep, but they insisted that they wanted to follow me along from the start and make it to every aid station they could. At the Halt de l’Arche aid station at about 19.6km I emerged from the treecover and saw lights from the tent, then spotted Ruby (their campervan and crew vehicle) parked at entrance to the aid station and my parents standing in front! I was feeling fresh at this point, but there’s a special burst of energy that comes from seeing loved ones at any point during a race. I heard Dad let out a woop, and I cheered right back “It’s so good to see you!!”. They had set up a table by Ruby with my extra food but I didn’t notice and went straight past it to the tent where the volunteers helped to refill my water bladder. I added my electrolytes to it, topped up my vest pockets with Endurance Tap and Clif Bloks that my parents brought from their table, and sized up the snacks laid out on the well-stocked aid station table. I ate some Xact Nutrition cubes and watermelon, grabbed more slices to go, and stuffed some rice balls and cheese curds into my running vest pockets (as it turns out, rice balls are much less appetizing after they’ve been smushed into your pockets).
I had no idea where I was in the standings up to this point in the race but I learned that I was the first woman to pass through the aid station! I thought there were a few extra excited cheers when I arrived, and the volunteers were eager to let me know I was the “premiere femme”. I appreciated the good energy from everyone here, but didn’t want to linger for too long. Refueled in more ways than one, I gave my parents a quick hug, thanked the volunteers for their help, and was off into the trails again!
The rest of the night seemed to pass quickly. I love the reflective peacefulness of running at night. It feels expansive, like you’re connected to the whole world around you but also focused, when all that seems to exist is in the field of your headlamp. It’s very meditative.
I got a little off track at two points in this section around the Sentier des Caps trail. Once, when I realized I was following reflective markings for a very overgrown snowshoe trail but hadn’t seen a race flag for a little while so I had to backtrack. Not long after, I felt disoriented because I couldn’t see a flag ahead on the trail, and wasn’t sure if I had missed a turn. After pulling out my navigation app to check the route and backtracking to the nearest marker, I kept going and eventually did see a piece of flagging tape that reassured me I was on track. Around the same place, I also took a serious dive superman-style into the trail. Although I was mostly alone in these sections, a fellow runner ahead must have seen my headlamp go down through the trees because he yelled out to make sure I was okay. I had a few minor scrapes but was otherwise fine, so hollered out my thanks and kept going. A few more almost-falls in the following sections alerted me to the fact that my headlamp battery was dying and the light was too dim to be all that useful. I stopped, took off my pack and switched out the batteries. I readjusted my headlamp and clicked it on, flooding the path ahead with light, and immediately knew it was the right decision. I plodded on with renewed confidence in my steps, realizing that sunrise wasn’t far away.
At Cap Gribane Aid Station just after sunrise, with one of the enthusiastic volunteers who helped me refill my water and eagerly told me I was the “premiere femme”.
(Photo shared by Quebec Mega Trail)
The two aid stations in the night section (Cap du Salut and Gap Gribane) were well stocked and tucked into the mountainside, and once again the volunteers were so enthusiastic. I’m pretty sure that at least a few of them were camping nearby on the trail, and they had set up a fire at one aid station for runners to warm up (although even at night it stayed pretty warm when you were moving on the trail). It’s very generous to give up your sleep and time during an event like this, and I always try to express my gratitude to the volunteers for their help. Although my French isn’t very good, I think that being tired and a little loopy helped to take any filter away so I usually thanked them in my broken French (and appreciated the volunteers responding in French first, although almost everyone also spoke English). There were a lot of “merci beaucoups” as well as “de l’eau s’il vous plait” (water, please) and “le melon d’eau” (watermelon).
As the sky began to lighten from dark to a lighter blue, the silhouette of the trees above began to have more definition with the glow from the morning light. I heard the natural world waking up as the birds started to sing around me. Two sleepy porcupines even ended up on my path, waddling slowly along as if they’d just rolled out of their cozy forest den to stretch their legs in the morning. I tried to make noise to shoo them off the path, but they wanted to continue along the trail ahead of me. So, for a little while my pace was set by these meandering creatures. I giggled at this, and eventually wished them well as they stepped off the path so I could continue on at a faster-than-a-porcupine pace to the next aid station.
I had previously completed 80km of this course (I DNFd the 110km race in 2019), so some of it was familiar; I distinctly remembered the view of the school heading into the Saint-Tite-Des-Caps aid station, where you could just see the tips of the tents ahead before dipping down to cross a creek through a culvert. I waded through the thigh-deep water and enjoyed how soothing the cold was to my tired muscles, then came out the other side to be greeted by my parents and the team of volunteers at the mid-point of the race.
Saint-Tite-Des-Caps to Mont-Sainte-Anne (80km-104km)
80km down, I was halfway there and the sun was shining now. I felt a little tired but otherwise my body was feeling strong. The first thing I did at the Saint-Tite-Des-Caps aid station was the half-way medical check. The same friendly young woman who had met me at the start was there to ask how I was feeling, weigh me in, and take my blood pressure again (she told me my blood pressure was “perfect, even more chill than at the start”). She asked how often I’d been peeing (regularly, as usual for my runs), what colour my urine was (clear, not red or black which would be a yellow or red flag), how much I’d been eating and drinking (lots of water and snacks - I was starting to crave salty now rather than sweet foods), and then gave me an all clear to continue on. While I was doing this, my Mom took my race vest off of me and another volunteer went through my gear to make sure I was still carrying all of the mandatory equipment (there were time penalties associated with any missing gear, to ensure the safety of all runners throughout the race).
I had planned to maybe change my shoes and socks at this point as well. I don’t usually do this in a race, although lots of runners talk about it feeling like a refreshing pick-me-up. Other than being wet my feet felt totally fine so I decided not to bother with it. My parents had set up two chairs for me at this aid station, so I did sit back on one and put my feet up on the other while I tried to get some more real food into me. Mom and Dad emptied wrappers and bits of uneaten food from my race vest pockets, restocked my trail fuel with fresh goodies, and offered me snacks from our kit and the aid station goodies. I had two cups of coffee here and sipped on some coke, and ate anything that looked appetizing: several grilled cheese sandwiches, cheese curds, rice balls, orange slices, and so many slices of watermelon. One of the volunteers at the aid station came back to check on me and bring me anything from the tables, which was very kind.
Feeling refreshed and refueled, I took off from the aid station with several slices of watermelon in hand (gosh I love watermelon as race fuel!). Dad had been refreshing the live tracking and noted that other runners were going through this next section pretty quickly, so he figured it might be a bit of an easier trail compared to the climbs of the night before. He was right! It was very runnable in sections of trail that ran parallel along the highway and smooth trails down towards the river. The sun was shining at this point and I noted the wildflowers in full bloom along the sides of the trail. It was beautiful!
The organizers had warned that there was a very short steep section near the end of this segment as we descended towards the river, and I did a little butt-scooting along here to carefully make my way down the escarpment. At the bottom, a team of volunteers was waiting with a bright red dingy to bring the runners across the river! I cheered when I saw them and was quickly handed a life jacket to put over my running vest. They were efficient with loading me into the boat, getting me across the river (a solo crossing with a pulley system that they maneuvered so I could sit back and enjoy the boat ride), and out the other side. I wish I had taken a picture here, the view down the river valley was just stunning. It almost went too quickly!
The volunteers here were eager to tell me about the amazing Mestachibo trail I was about to encounter, and when they found out I had done it in the past one of the volunteers grinned and said “oh excellent, so you know what you’re in for!”. It’s one of the most technical sections of the race, full of boulders and rocky climbs, but also one of the most beautiful. I pulled out my poles here, which I had kept stowed on my vest until this point, and was grateful for the extra stability they provided as I climbed up and down over the rocky trail. On this section of the course, I also passed a few runners from the 50km and 80km races who I exchanged quick words of encouragement with and who cheered me on as I continued past them (I love the camaraderie of the trail running community!). The very end of this section ended with a steep climb by a waterfall, with what felt like never-ending stairs, until I reached the winding trails that led to the base of Mont-Sainte-Anne.
At aid stations and from volunteers on the course, I kept being told with excitement that I was the “premiere femme”, which meant that I was still in the lead. It was both exciting and a little daunting to know this, considering that this year’s field of women was bigger than last year and included some very strong female athletes. Although I run these adventures for the joy of being outside and pushing my own limits, the competition aspect is also motivating. Having other women to race against and a course record from last year that set the bar for this year’s runners meant that we were pushing each other to be faster. Without knowing how far ahead I was, and knowing that an early lead in a 100 mile race doesn’t mean anything, I had been pushing for speed in my legs and imagining being pulled like a magnet towards each tree and stone ahead on the path. I let myself rest and refuel at aid stations, soaking up the experience and also knowing that it supported me to continue moving forward throughout the race.
Mont-Sainte-Anne to Auberge du Fondeur (104km-124km)
My parents met me again at the MSA aid station and at this point we had our routine down: refill my bladder, replenish my snacks, and get some real food into my stomach. It was getting hot at this point in the day and I savoured the refreshing watermelon at aid stations. My knees had started to bother me on the descents, it wasn’t serious but I decided to check with the physio team at this aid station to see if they could tape my knees for extra support. Looking for something that would help me feel refreshed for the climb ahead, I also decided to change my socks at this point. In hindsight, I wish I hadn’t made that choice because as I pulled off my Injinji toe socks all of my toe tape came off too. I hadn’t prepared more cut tape and was debating what to do when my parents mentioned that there was a podiatrist team at the aid station as well. They quickly wrapped up my toes with their tape, not seeming at all bothered by how smelly and mud-covered I was at this point in the race. Once again, I appreciated the efficiency and support of the volunteers at this race - they were amazing!
From the MSA aid station, it was a short but VERY steep climb up the mountain to the summit. The sun was scorching and a good section of the climb had no treecover. I started to feel overheated and kept reminding myself to focus on moving forward, but did take little breaks to catch my breath and try to cool off. I thought of Adam and Bruce, who would be running this section together later in Adam’s race, and imagined that I was falling in line with their steady pace up the mountain.
I could hear the aid station at the summit before I could see it. There were two volunteers outside of the building blowing a conch shell and pounding a rain barrel drum to welcome the runners! I came into the aid station feeling quite hot and hoping for cold water or ice. They didn’t have any, but I did grab a few handfuls of watermelon and sit (for probably longer than I needed to) for a bit in the shade before continuing on. The 100mile runners actually passed through this aid station twice, so I looped around and down the mountain before coming back up to the summit from a different trail. Again, I sat down and rested my legs in the aid station and snacked a little bit on watermelon while watching other runners and their pacers from all of the different distances come through (almost all of the races passed through the MSA aid station, I believe, so it was a busy spot). One of the race volunteers noticed me sitting down and asked me if was going to keep going, which in my slightly loopy and sleepy state was a confusing question…of course I was going to finish! I decided it was time to keep going, so I peeled my butt out of the seat, picked up my poles, thanked the volunteers and headed back out into the trails. The conch-blowing man and rain-barrel-drumming woman walked alongside me as I left the building, sending me off into the next section of trail with their unique serenade!
The next 11km to Auberge du Fondeur felt like a breeze after the big climb. It was mostly flowy runnable trails with some nice descending, and the thought that I would see my parents again at the aid station added an extra skip to my step. When I arrived, they had made me the mushroom risotto I had packed for this stage of the race (a few years ago my friend Stef had packed a mushroom risotto for their supper while crewing me at Gaspesia, and when I wasn’t excited by any of my regular aid station treats they offered it up and I ate almost half of it!). As I shoved a few spoonfuls in my mouth, I asked how Adam was doing. I expected they were getting updates from Lyndsay and Bruce, and that Adam was not far from being joined by his dad as a pacer for the last 30km. They assured me that he was doing well, and I figured that I might see Lyndsay waiting for him when I came back to this aid station next (the 100 mile runners left here and did an extra 25km loop in the mountain, while the 110km runners passed by and continued to the finish line).
Auberge du Fondeur to Finish (124km-160km)
The trail was well marked with flagging tape and reflective arrows.
The loop around in the mountains from Auberge du Fondeur was nice flowy single track, and I pulled out my headlamp as it started to get dark again. This part of the course brought us to another small aid station twice, with just two volunteers under a little tent. One of them recognized my hat (a Gaspesia Ultra Trail hat) and excitedly pointed at it, to which I responded “oui, Gaspesia est une bonne course!”. I love the connections between runners here, and like wearing patches or hats from other races for just that reason. Leaving the tent, I noted that there was less reflective trail marking here and paid careful attention to look up and around for the non-reflective flagging tape that usually hung from the trees.
This section passed in a bit of a blur, with all of my body and mind focused on putting one foot in front of the other. The bugs also came out in full force and provided some “negative productive” motivation (thanks to my sport psychology courses this year for the terminology!): if I slowed to a walk they were immediately swarming around me, but if I kept plodding along at a steady run/trot then I managed to keep them off of me.
I made it back to Auberge du Fondeur feeling ready to finish this thing. I hadn’t eaten much on the last section besides some oranges from the aid station, and knew that I needed to eat something to fuel me up for the finish. I sat down with my feet up and forced down more of the mushroom risotto (which was much less appetizing the second time around), ate some watermelon and cheese curds from the aid station, and mentally prepared for the last 10km. I asked how Adam was doing and Dad told me “he’s with Bruce now”, which my tired brain translated to mean that he was through the MSA aid station and somewhere climbing up the mountain.
Just as I was getting ready to say goodbye and head out, I felt a wave of nausea and immediately started to puke in the grass by my chair (it was pitch dark and I was grateful for the cover of night so no-one could see). Darn. So much for the mushroom risotto! I was feeling tired but pretty good otherwise, and a little annoyed that I had just lost the nutrition I’d worked so hard to get down moments before. Luckily, my parents had lots of crystallized ginger at the ready so I stayed sitting and nibbled on a few pieces to help settle my stomach. I took a few ginger pieces for the road, added them to my pockets with ginger chews I had packed for just this kind of scenario, and grabbed another watermelon to go. I still had an Endurance Tap left, and knew I could get the smooth maple syrup and ginger mixture down once I was moving again to fuel the final stretch.
Crewing for an ultrarunner is a special kind of task, and I think especially difficult for parents and loved ones. Putting your body through such an immense physical and mental challenge often means that you’re dealing with pain and discomfort that can be hard to watch. Rather than trying to take it away, I appreciated my parents being with me through the challenge and doing whatever it took to support me to get to the finish line. As much as I am the person running in the race, there is definitely a team aspect and getting to share the experience with others makes it all the more meaningful.
I trotted out of the aid station nibbling on my ginger and feeling determined to finish. Right away, there was a sign marking the number of kilometres left to go: 9km! The countdown continued through the trail and I imagined each distance as a fresh new race, willing my legs to go faster and pretending I hadn’t just run 148km. 8km was just a cross-country race. 5km was a favourite route in Odell Park. 2km was the distance from my house to Steady Brook Falls. The twisty single track here was runnable and wound around the creek. I knew that there would be two short river crossings with just 1km to go and kept anticipating these as I got closer to the river, then farther away. I passed a few other runners and was passed by a couple as well. We cheered each other on, sharing a few words of encouragement and knowing that we were all so close to the finish.
As I came upon the first river crossing, I felt a flood of emotions and started to cry. Tears of joy, pride, surprise, wonder, and gratitude. I was almost there. I let out a woop into the silence of the night that was carried along the flowing water. As I climbed out of the forest and saw the lights of the finish line in the distance, I cheered again and tried to pick up the pace, my whole body buzzing with excitement. My heart was pounding out of my chest. My body and my mind had endured this momentous challenge. My parents had followed me around the mountains to support me. I had witnessed the strength of so many other runners. I had seen quiet moments of the natural world around me waking up and moving throughout the day. I was going to finish this.
One of the race organizers was waiting for me a few hundred metres above the finish line. He congratulated me and said he would meet me at the finish, then ran ahead to let them know who the next runner was. I flew down the hill and descended into the finish, crossing under the arch in 28 hours, 18 minutes, and 49 seconds and breaking the women’s first place ribbon that was held up across the finish line. An organizer draped the ribbon around my shoulders and it felt like a warm hug. I was so full of emotions. I noticed the cameras and lights, the crowd of people waiting to cheer in the runners, and then the race president, Jean Fortier, came to congratulate me and hand me my finisher’s belt buckle. In a mix of French and English and infused with the post-race high of emotions, I think I told him how beautiful the course was and how grateful I was for the amazing volunteers along the way.
My parents came into the finish area and I hugged them both, overwhelmed with gratitude for their unwavering support. I saw Adam behind them and felt excited, then confused. Why was he here already? We hugged tightly and he whispered to me that his race had ended early (he was peeing blood and stopped at the 80km mark, the same place I had DNFd when we came here together in 2019) but that he was okay, and that he was so proud of me. As it turns out, my dad’s “he’s with Bruce now” comment from earlier had been a clever half-truth, since they had all decided that I didn’t need to be worried about Adam and that I should stay focused on finishing my race. While it was disappointing that Adam’s race ended earlier than planned, it was the right choice…and the plus side was that Bruce, Lyndsay, and Adam were all there to meet me at the finish.
We didn’t linger at the finish for too long. There was a post-race meal for finishers that looked delicious, but that I couldn’t keep down (after the first spoonful, I puked again right in front of the paramedic team at the finish line), and a local craft beer that I decided to save for later. My body had carried me through 100 miles, and was saying it was time to rest. We decided to head back to the condo to get cleaned up and into bed.
Post-Race Celebrations!
The next morning we rolled out of bed to head back to the start/finish for the award ceremony. The QMT recognizes the top five finishers in each race on the podium ceremony, however all finishers of the 100 mile receive a belt buckle for their immense efforts. There were still people finishing the race as we arrived. The cutoff for the 100 mile event was 40 hours, and we were there as the final two finishers crossed the line in 39 hours and 37 minutes: Julian Lopez and Sebastian Warner (I met Sebastian at my first-ever ultramarathon and was so impressed at his strength and determination to finish this race).
It was awesome to see all of the other runners and their supporters gathered together, and to have a chance to chat and hear about the race experiences of some of the other athletes. I was blown away by the speed of the top male finishers (Sangé Sherpa set a new course record in 19 hours and 35 minute), and excited to share the podium with three other women who had braved the 100 mile event this year and crossed the finish line: Geraldine Micheron, Isabelle Bernier, and Véronique Drouin. Veronique had finished her race just hours before the award ceremony that morning and was still standing upright and smiling! There were eleven other women who had started this year’s 100 mile event but did not finish, but whose strength and ability to step up to the challenge also deserve to be celebrated. I hope to see this race continue to grow, and would love to see more women back there next year to take on the distance.
After checking out the local vendors who were setup at the finish line, we headed back to our condo and spent the rest of the day snoozing, eating, and sharing stories from the weekend. I heard more about Adam’s race and both races from our crew’s point of view (it’s an endurance event just to crew an ultra!). Sometime that afternoon, I also checked my phone (I had only used it for navigation in the past 30+ hours) and was overwhelmed with the supportive messages pouring in from friends and strangers near and far. Thank you all for the words of encouragement and for following along, it means the world to me!
Quebec Mega Trail was a truly legendary race and I am so grateful for the opportunity to have taken part in this year’s 10th anniversary edition. It was a beautiful and challenging course and incredibly well organized throughout. I love seeing the sport of trail and ultrarunning growing in Canada, and it’s events like this (along with the countless grassroots local races across the country) that help to make it happen. The whole weekend felt like a celebration of trail running. I was so happy to share this experience with my parents, Adam, and his family as well as everyone who was following along back home. I’ll definitely be back to QMT in the future, and can’t wait for whatever comes next…stay tuned for what that will be!!!
Thank you, merci beaucoup!
