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Why I’ll Never Forget My First Ultra

Grizzly Ultra 50K – My Comeback Story

Coach Janelle

I’ll never forget my first ultra. Not because it was 52.25km (yes, longer than 50km I thought I was doing - welcome to the world of ultra running). Not because it was one of my strongest race days ever. But because of what it meant.

It was my comeback story.

From Quitting to Ultra-Marathoner

Exactly one year before I signed up for the Grizzly Ultra, I had “quit running.” I was done. Exhausted. Burned out. My mental health had taken a hit, and I was struggling with depression and anxiety. I left my job. I'd lost my running and friend circle. I felt like I had lost everything, including myself.

But the trails welcomed me in.

There was something about trail running that was different than pounding pavement. It forced me to be present, to focus on the step in front of me, the root underfoot, the climb that demanded my full attention. Trails became my therapy, my meditation, my healing place.

So when I registered for The Grizzly Ultramarathon, it wasn’t just about racing. It was about writing a new chapter. From quitting… to ultramarathoner! I even used the race to raise money for Bigger Than The Trail, a mental health organization I believed in deeply (before I ever became an ambassador). It was bigger than me and I needed that powerful 'why'.

Training Was a Rollercoaster

Back then, I didn’t have experience coaching ultras I built my own plan through lots of research, guesswork, and trial and error. I stacked back-to-back long runs on weekends. I tested myself with my first trail races (hello, 5 Peaks!).

But I was still nervous. I was scared to run solo in the wilderness, so a lot of my training happened on urban trails. Many solo miles, constatly second guessing my abilities, but I kept putting one foot in front of the other.

Then there were the “oh no, my race is doomed” moments such as my big peak run at Nose Hill. I started at sunrise and the temps turned into a 30°C+ day. By 36km I was cramping so badly I thought I’d pulled my calf. I still remember the walk of shame back to my car, two kilometers of telling myself, “Maybe I can’t do this" and "my race is over."

During my taper, I put my orthotics in the wrong shoes, left in right, right in left 🤦‍♀️. My feet screamed in pain, and I had to cut a planned 28km down to 16km. I hobbled for days, convinced I had ruined my race once again. Spoiler: I hadn’t.

By race week, I was as ready as I was ever going to be. Nervous, but excited.

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Race Day: Where It All Came Together

Standing on that start line, I was buzzing. A year ago, I had quit. Now I was about to find out if I could actually go from rock bottom… to 50km.

Leg 1: I went out way too fast (rookie mistake). My glute/hamstring; an injury I'd been wrestling with flared up. For a few minutes I thought, “This is it. This is how my ultra ends.” But some Tylenol and a quick Theragun session later, I was back. And better.

Leg 3 was the one that scared me the most. This is considered the hardest leg of the race. I worried about it for weeks. And yet, it turned into my favourite part of the race. Sure, the uphill was brutal, but the downhill? Absolute magic. I flew, grinning like a kid. What I dreaded became the highlight of the whole day.

By the final stretch, I wasn’t alone. My husband Kyle had signed up to run the whole race with me but got sidelined by injury. Instead, he jumped in for the last two legs. I had prepped him with motivational lines and pep talks to give me when I was falling apart. Funny thing? He was the one struggling to keep up. I was flying and having the time of my life. Thanking all the volunteers, cheering on other runners and taking in all the cheers into that finish line.

I still laugh thinking about those last few kms, me, the one who thought she’d quit running forever, now pulling her husband to the finish line of an ultra, stronger than ever!

The Finish Line

When my watch beeped at 50km and there was no finish line in sight, I had a little internal meltdown. “Excuse me?! Where is this finish line?!” The course was actually 52.25km. But honestly? I didn’t care. I crushed my arbitrary 7-hour goal at 50km, and then just… kept running.

Crossing that finish line was pure joy. Pride. Relief. Disbelief. I wasn’t broken. I wasn’t destroyed. I felt amazing. My family said I looked happier and stronger than I ever had in any race before. They were right. I felt it too!

I finished thinking, “I could keep going. I could do more.”

And that thought was the spark that lit the fire for every ultra since.

Why It Changed Everything

Grizzly Ultra will always be special because it showed me what I was made of. It proved that I was stronger than I thought. That I wasn’t “done” as a runner. That the trails weren’t just a place to escape, but a place where I could thrive.

Without that first ultra, without that finish line feeling, I don’t think I’d be the coach or the runner I am today.

For First-Timers This Year

If you’re lining up at Grizzly Ultra this October, here’s what I want you to know:

Don’t stress about pace or cutoffs (Grizzly is generous with those).
Take it all in. From the climbs to the downhills, from the pain to the joy, it’s all part of it.
Thank the volunteers and the crowds, without them the day wouldn't go as smoothly as it does!
Remember: you’ve already done the hardest part. You showed up.

The rest? That’s just the fun part that you get to experience for yourself!

So no, I’ll never forget my first ultra. Not because it was the longest I’d ever run. But because it was the day I realized: I was made for this.

I’m running Grizzly again this year, but nothing will ever take away the magic of that very first finish line.

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