Alpenglow 100 July 3-4 2026 “ Better to Finish Strong than Broken “

A beautiful town in “ the middle of nowhere “ B.C.

Every race has a story long before the start line. Mine began with a difficult decision: whether I should be running Alpenglow at all.”

“Truthfully, one of the reasons I signed up was the purple finisher’s hoodie…”

One of the things that makes Alpenglow so unique is its 100 km start time. Rather than beginning before dawn like most ultras, the race starts at 8:30 p.m., carrying runners through the sunset, the night, and into the next sunrise. It was an experience I had been looking forward to. The 65 km, however, started at 6:00 a.m., so I knew I’d be missing that unforgettable overnight adventure.

Since March I’d been managing a left peroneal longus tendon injury. An ultrasound showed a 7 mm tear, but with regular physio, strength work, and careful training I was able to keep running pain-free. Hill Billy Hustle 50 km became my test race, and although my foot held up, I remained cautious on technical terrain .

“I was fortunate to get a last-minute consultation with sports medicine physician Dr. Eric Torstensen, who specializes in foot and ankle injuries.”

As someone who’s been running since I was 18 and trains like a triathlete, that wasn’t easy to hear. His advice wasn’t to stop running—it was to pay attention to pain rather than imaging. My takeaway was simple: if my foot remained pain-free, I could race

VOMIT - “ don’t be a victim of medical imaging technology “

What would I have suggested to a client in this situation ?

David Marlor’s Westie . “ Home Sweet Home” at Summit River Lodge Campsite

I’d planned to drive up to Valemount with David Marlor in his Westfalia van. David was volunteering as a race course pre sweep and overnight parking at Swift aid station and post race clean up . We had planned this months ago camping was booked . I purchased the race cancellation insurance , I always do if it’s an option . I considered cancelling , I could skip the race and volunteer . with all the information I had I was grateful to still participate in the 65 km race , but know I’d have to DNF ( do not finish ) , if I felt any pain or discomfort in my foot during the event . I was really on the fence if I should be running at all, thinking season is over , but part of me wanted to try . Alpenglow isn’t just a race , it ’an adventure.

Canada Day July 1 2026

Canada Day Shake out run ! photo credit : David Marlor

David Marlor and I packed up his Westie and drove from Vancouver to Kamloops where we stayed the night at Pinegrove campsite after a shakeout run at Kenna Cartwright Nature Park . It was a great way to spend Canada Day. On route to Valemont, we stopped at Well Grays Park on route to check out some waterfalls . I highly recommend it !

Where the heck is Valemount BC you say ? In the middle of nowhere, Vale as the 1000 local residents would say. Valemount ( valley - mountains ) and the Robson Valley lie in the confluence of the three mountains ranges , the Canadian Rockies , the Cariboos and the Monashees . A cute little mountain town , reminded me of a mini Cumberland

Moul Falls- Wells Gray Park . Be prepared to get soaked!

Thursday evening July 2- Film screening of “ The Second Ascent “;Hosted At the Best Western

Watching The Second Ascent the night before Alpenglow couldn’t have been more fitting. As I faced the disappointment of dropping from the 100 km to the 65 km because of injury and interrupted training, the film reminded me that success isn’t always measured by the original plan. Sometimes the greatest achievement is having the courage to adapt, trust your instincts, and keep moving forward. Looking back, that lesson became the heart of my race.

. One quote from The Second Ascent stayed with me throughout the weekend:

"Nothing beautiful is ever earned easily, and nothing easy is ever truly beautiful."

It perfectly captured the passion, perseverance, and countless hours that Gary Robbins and the incredible Coast Mountain Trail Running team have poured into creating Alpenglow. By race weekend, it was clear this event was much more than a race—it was a labor of love.

Friday, July 3 – 100 km Race Start (8:30 p.m.)

David spent the day volunteering as a course pre-sweeper with Tihlo before heading up to Swift Mountain for the overnight parking shift.

After checking in, I found myself questioning my decision all over again. I could still switch back to the 100 km. The indecision was exhausting.

No. You made this decision based on medical advice. Trust it.

It was a hard pill to swallow.

I laid out my mandatory gear—rain jacket, gloves, buff, emergency blankets, headlamp, waist light—and, after a frantic search, finally located the tiny mandatory whistle hidden in my Salomon pack. Gear check complete, I was ready.

Watching the 100 km runners gather at the start line stirred up all kinds of emotions. I wondered if I’d be overwhelmed with FOMO, but as David and I cheered them on, I felt something unexpected: relief.

This simply wasn’t my year to run the 100 km.

The weather was calm as the runners disappeared into the evening, but around 11 p.m. everything changed.

Back at Whiskey Fill Farm, David’s volunteer role meant we could park the Westie right beside the start area. After he headed off for his overnight shift on Swift Mountain, the storm that was predicted was real and arrived with incredible force. Rain hammered the roof of the van while thunder echoed through the valley and lightning lit up the sky.

Curled up in my sleeping bag, swatting mosquitoes, I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. I could have been out there on the mountain. Part of me wished I was.

Instead, I found myself hoping the runners, volunteers, and David were all safe. The storm raged for what felt like hours, and all I could do was wait for it to pass.

Saturday July 4 -4:30 am 65 km race morning

The campsite was quiet as a mouse , I made my coffee and pre race oatmeal . I got a text from David that read “ You made the right decision. Weather has been cold and wet and lots of people dropped in the 100 ( mandatory gear check was mandatory) . It will be a wet day so be ready for it . Have a great run “.

.

Robin Humble and I at the 65 km start line !

I headed to the start line feeling those familiar pre-race butterflies. I ran into Robin Humble, and we stopped for a photo. She mentioned this would be her last ultra. I admired her decision, although it made me reflect that one day we’ll all run our last ultra. Hopefully, that day is still a long way off for me.

My goal was simple: finish strong, not broken. I had no time goal. Sixty-five kilometres is an unusual distance, and simply reaching the finish line healthy was enough.

We set off with a 2 km stretch of flat road before entering the trails—a perfect warm-up. The pace felt brisk as everyone settled into a conga line. My strategy was simple: hike the climbs, run the flats, and make the most of the descents.

I barely stopped at the first aid station, M&M, before pulling out my poles for the long climb to Swift Mountain. I chatted with other runners, paused for a few photos, and soaked in the incredible scenery. More than anything, I felt grateful just to be there.

Climbing up Swift Mountain - photo credit Melissa

I leapfrogged with Melissa from Alberta for much of the climb. Soon, the 100 km runners began descending toward us. The first familiar face I saw was Morgan Leroy.

“I DNF’d,” she said.

We shared a quick hug before continuing on. I later learned she’d had a difficult night but felt at peace with her decision.

Next came Keinan MacDonald, bounding effortlessly down the fire road in shorts and a T-shirt, looking completely at home in the mountains. Not long after, Keith Mills passed by. I almost didn’t recognize him at first—he looked calm, focused, and entirely in the zone.

Kienan MacDonald crushing the 100 km race, wore shorts the entire race !

Seeing friends still out there chasing their goals gave me an unexpected emotional boost. It reminded me of how I’d felt before Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour in Vancouver. After thinking I’d never get a ticket, one unexpectedly came my way the night before the first show through a client’s friend. It became one of the most memorable experiences of my life. That same feeling of gratitude washed over me on the mountain.

The lyrics to “Shake It Off” kept playing in my head. I had forgotten my AirPods, but I rarely race with music anyway—there are already enough distractions as it is

Love this !!! photo credit Liam Dueck Media

.Arriving at my favorite of the eight aid station , Swift Mountain, I was greeted by Karen Laberee and Doris Leong. Doris helped refill my soft flasks with Tailwind before smiling and saying, “Get ready to climb!” In my focus on fuelling, I barely noticed the life-sized Taylor Swift cutout or the volunteers ’sparkly dresses. I did, however, love the Swift Mountain friendship bracelet—a perfect touch.

Swift turnaround . photo credit Ruby Hogg

As the climb steepened, the temperature dropped quickly. I stopped to pull on my vest, merino toque, and gloves before continuing upward. On the return from the summit, I crossed paths with Robin Humble, who looked strong and was moving swiftly—no pun intended. Soon after, Hannah Woods, still tackling the 100 km after enduring the overnight storm, came by looking remarkably strong. Every runner greeted one another with words of encouragement, and that sense of community made the climb even more special.

Reaching the summit of Swift, we were each given a pink ribbon—a simple symbol that we had made it to the top. Volunteer Curtis Pawliuk, Executive Director of the Valemount Area Recreation Development Association, had carried the powerful summit light up the mountain to guide the 100 km runners through the night.

Chilly at the top of Swift Mountain photo credit Curtis Pawliuk

After enduring the previous night’s thunderstorm, Curtis looked frozen, and his hands were so cold he could barely tie the ribbon around my wrist. I asked him to take my photo before I took in the phenomenal view. Rose petals from a recent marriage proposal were still scattered across the summit, adding a little extra magic to an already unforgettable place.

I was still mindful of my foot on the technical descent back down Swift. Mountain that lay ahead. The younger runners flew downhill like mountain goats, many with their poles tucked away. I noticed that many of the more seasoned runners—including myself—kept their poles in hand. It seemed experience had taught us all the same lesson.

The descent wasn’t nearly as intimidating as I had imagined—until my toe slammed into a rock, nearly sending me sprawling. It took my breath away.

Enjoying the moment . photo credit Ty Holtan

“Good save!” another runner called out.

“Yep… I’m definitely losing a toenail after this!” I laughed.

Back at the Swift aid station round two , I topped up a flask with Tailwind before heading into the long 6 km descent. Keep running, I told myself. This is a good place to make up some time.

TS strong ! photo credit Liam Dueck Media

As the sun broke through the clouds and the temperature began to rise, I stopped to peel off a layer. For the first time in months, I realized I wasn’t thinking about my injury anymore—I was simply enjoying the run.

I was also loving my new Brooks Cascadia 19s from Frontrunners Victoria. They had just the right amount of cushioning and exceptional grip, giving me the confidence to keep moving smoothly over the technical terrain.

My favourite section of the course was Zen Garden—a magical stretch of flowing single track winding through peaceful switchbacks alongside a tranquil creek. It was so beautiful and rejuvenating that I could have stayed there all day.

Around the 30 km mark, I caught a second wind and found myself running comfortably through the flowy trails. As I passed Nic Salter, tackling his very first ultra, he laughed, “Oh, you’re finally warmed up now?”

I smiled. “I guess I am.”

For the first time all day, everything felt effortless, and I simply enjoyed being out on the trails .

Not every part of the course was magical. The climb up McKirdy Mountain was a long, relentless grind. The 100 km runners got to go up this climb not once , but twice !

Nice to run into Dave Small, on course for the 100 km .

I was surprised to see Dave Small, who was tackling the 100 km, struggling with knee pain. We exchanged a few encouraging words before I gradually climbed ahead. Later, Seth caught up from behind and unknowingly helped pull me up the remainder of the climb. Sometimes having another runner nearby is all the motivation you need to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

By the 50 km mark, I hit a low point. Knowing there were still 15 km to go felt mentally daunting. Thankfully, the incredible mountain scenery kept drawing my attention away from the discomfort and reminded me why I love trail running in the first

Running along the scenic ridge line, I spotted Dan Bourget, race director of Devil’s Ladder, making his second attempt at the 100 km after a DNF the previous year. He looked strong. As we chatted, he casually asked, “Any interest in sweeping Devil’s Ladder next weekend? There’s still room in the 30 km race.” I couldn’t help but laugh. You’re kidding, right?

The long, technical descent off McKirdy was relentless on my quads. I picked my way carefully through muddy, slippery sections, braking more than I’d have liked and never quite letting myself go. I kept telling myself, I love this, when the truth was I was counting the minutes until the descent ended. Eventually it gave way to beautiful, flowing single-track, and my spirits lifted immediately.

Seth flew past me, eager to get to the finish and see his wife and daughters. A little farther on, I tucked in behind Tony from Calgary, who ran with the steady rhythm of a metronome. Without realizing it, he pulled me all the way to the final aid station.

I grabbed two cups of Coke, a handful of watermelon, and got moving, leaving both Seth and Tony behind. Only 7 km remained.

The final kilometres were fast and runnable. As I passed a few runners, someone shouted, “You’re flying!”

“If only I had wings!” I laughed.

Seeing Tara McDonald volunteering on course gave me another boost. Soon I could hear the train rolling through town—a sure sign the finish was close. I was running on fumes with no water or nutrition left, but the encouraging signs along the final road, including “Where the F is the finish line?”, kept me smiling.

I spotted Angela Boss from Cumberland just ahead, but there wasn’t enough road left to catch her. As I rounded the final corner, the cheers from the crowd grew louder. David was shouting, and moments later I crossed the finish line into a hug from race director Gary Robbins.

Happy to be done ! photo credit Tamey Wood Photography

“I’ll be back next year for the 100 km,” I told him.

I finished in 12 hours 30 minutes, covering 66 km with approximately 3,500 metres of elevation gain, placing 6th out of 10 in my age group.

Thank you Gary Robbins for an amazing race ! photo credit : Beth Pucsek

Most importantly, I finished strong—not broken.

Alpenglow wasn’t the race I originally planned, but it may have been the race I needed. It reminded me that resilience isn’t always about pushing farther—sometimes it’s about making the difficult decision to adapt, trusting the training you have, and appreciating the opportunity to keep moving forward. The mountains will always be there, and so will new adventures. For now, I’m grateful to have finished strong, healthy, and excited for what’s next .

Thank You

No one gets to a finish line alone.

A heartfelt thank you to Gary Robbins, Coast Mountain Trail Running, and the incredible organizing team for creating such a unique and memorable event. To the 170 volunteers who gave their time, encouragement, and smiles all weekend—thank you for making every aid station and every trail intersection feel welcoming.

Thank you to David Marlor for a memorable road trip to Valemount, for volunteering through a storm on Swift Mountain, and for your support all weekend.

To Matt Cecil, thank you for your coaching and steady guidance since 2019. To Patricia Rooney, thank you for helping me get to the start line with confidence and for reminding me to trust the process. To Andie Pask, thank you for the strength training and thoughtful advice leading into race day.

Finally, congratulations to every runner who stood on the start line—especially those who endured the overnight storm in the 100 km. The determination and resilience I witnessed all weekend!

Until next time Alpenglow 100 …I’ll be back for the 100 km ..next year !