Coach Janelle & Jen Harris
When you meet Jen, you instantly know you’re in for a laugh. She’s a grade 1 and 2 teacher with a wicked sense of humour, the kind of person who can make even the toughest training day feel lighter. She’s the first to crack a joke, put out a “Christmas cock” or “Christmas beaver” decoration (yes, really), and find a reason to celebrate both Halloween and Christmas like they’re national holidays.
But underneath the laughter is a runner who’s all heart and grit. When Jen first joined Motivated in Motion, she swore she just wanted to train for a half marathon personal best, “and that would be it.” Fast forward two and a half years, and she’s an ultra-marathoner who ran the legendary Grizzly Ultra 50K in Canmore to celebrate turning 50. We sat down and asked her to share her story. Grab a glass of wine or some popcorn because its full of laughter, lessons, and a few Biofreeze mishaps along the way.
Coach’s Note:
I still remember when Jen first started chatting about maybe doing the Grizzly. I honestly thought she was joking at first, she’s got that kind of sense of humour after all. When she finally registered, she said, “Just because I’m registered doesn’t mean I’m committed to running the 50K!” and I couldn’t stop laughing. But even then, I saw the spark. Watching her go from “no way I’m running that far” to “sign me up” was one of those full-circle coach moments that make this job so rewarding.
Turning 50 was the main reason for signing up to run Grizzly 2025. After watching race day at Grizzly unfold and seeing the raw energy, happiness, and excitement on everyone’s faces, I thought, “I need to do this!” After chatting with my coach, Janelle, we agreed that Grizzly was the best choice for me even though it meant that I wasn’t going to be 50 when I ran it because the event is a month after my birthday. It turns out, though, that I ran 51kms for 51 years. That’s incredibly special, too.
I promised myself that I’d never run another marathon because it’s like a full-time job. I’ve run 3 marathons: Vancouver, New York, and Flanders Fields in Belgium, and my heart is full and content. I don’t feel like I have to do another one. It’s a lot of hours and you have to figure out how to get those distances in on a weekly basis. Looking back, I will honestly admit that I was completely naïve to trail running training. It’s HARD work! In all my years as a runner, I’ve never experienced anything like it; it’s truly humbling. The training plan was the easy part, that was designed by my coach. Executing it was a completely different story. I’d romanticized the idea of happily running through forest trails with all my running friends. The reality, though, was far from that, and I laugh now thinking about what I imagined training would be like versus how it actually was. For me, it was hard: emotionally, mentally, and physically.
One rainy, cold Saturday in July stands out. I’m not even sure why, since it was at Nose Hill, which isn’t my favourite place to train. Joanna, Ashleigh and I were running the outer loop and I think it was the first time thatI ran that long on a trail. It was a misty, muddy day, and it just solidified the notion that this is trail running training. All I could hear was, “this is it; you’re doing it.” The biggest accomplishment in training was running Ribbon Creek and Galatea with Joanna and Sudhakar during the August long weekend. It was 32kms of gorgeous scenery. Running with them was amazing. Sudhakar runs so swiftly and trying to keep up to them both was a fun challenge. We were in the heart of the Rocky Mountains, climbing up ladders, running past waterfalls and lakes, hearing marmots screaming (seriously, wtf), running along scree. It was on this run that I had a significant trip and fall. I landed so hard that I set off my emergency Garmin alert, initially thinking I had sprained my right ankle. Joanna came back to find me and helped me dust myself off. It wasn’t until the next day that I realized I’d hurt my ribs, and much later that it was confirmed they were fractured. This is the intensity of trail running, the adrenaline pumps through your veins like air flows through your lungs. You just keep going. When Joanna and I were running back along the grassy descent to the parking lot, I kept asking her, “how will we run another 18kms?” thinking about the ultra-distance. It was always in the back of my mind. It was the challenge that haunted me all summer long.
Coach’s Note:
Jen’s training block was a ride. She didn’t fall in love with trails right away like most people do, she fought them. Pace became a mental battle, and every week was a little bit of tough love mixed with laughter. I must’ve said “trust the process” a hundred times. But watching her go from doubting herself to tackling 30+ km mountain runs was magic.
The mental game was hard, but context is needed. I absolutely had the worst trail run (and run of my life) at 5 Peaks Canmore #1in June. When I say that trail running is humbling, it is. I was schooled in the arena of hard knocks training for this event. Nothing seemed easy, and Canmore #1 broke me. The first 10kms were good. I hit the wall shortly after that and teammates; Michelle, Ritchie, and Neil found me. I spent the rest of that event dry heaving and throwing up all over that course. It was humiliating to be in a frog position, dry heaving while your friends stood by chatting as if there was nothing to see. At one point, I thought I was going to pass out. No drama llamas here; this was my reality.
But there’s magic in these moments because I never wanted to be in that position again and I think I became harder on myself through training. I saw coming near dead last as a failure, but it was a gift. It was what became my drive through my training season. It wasn’t easy because it also meant that I struggled with “trusting the process” and recognizing that I was doing well in my training. Having to let go of pace of running on the road vs. running on the trails was huge for me and I know that I had lots of self-doubt saying, “the math isn’t mathing.” I just couldn’t see how I’d be able to run Grizzly if it was taking me so long to get my training runs in. That’s when I started saying, “every breath is a stride”, “keep moving forward”, “you got this.” And then it became, “you’re fucking crushing it!”
I’m lucky because whenever I come up with a new running adventure, my husband, Jason, is always there to cheer me on. He’s never complained about my time away from home training or at running events, and he’s often there at the finish line waiting for me. Finding balance, though, has definitely been a struggle. As a teacher, it’s hard. I’ve had to learn that my work doesn’t really end at the end of the day. It’s the kind of profession where there’s always something more to do, and for a long time, that was consuming. It took me years to realize I can’t do it all, and even longer to understand that being at my best means putting myself first sometimes. That shift has allowed me to manage my running schedule. I run for me; something that didn’t come naturally at first but has become an essential part of my mental health. Overcoming trauma as a kid and as a young adult meant learning how to manage my emotions, and running has become one of the ways I do that. Hearing your footsteps fall into that perfect cadence is like a calming breath taking over. It’s peaceful, even when the route you’re on isn’t. It’s calming, even when you’re chasing a speed tempo or stumbling over roots and rocks. I just need to run and hope that this is something that I get to do for the rest of my life. The balance of it all just falls into place. I always say, “if you’re having a bad day, go for a run. If you’re having a good day, go for a run.”
I am surprised at how calm I felt. We arrived early and other teammates were already there, set up. I remember not being able to sit for long periods of time, but I didn’t feel anxious. That morning was full of so much positive energy. I think I was eager to start the day.
In all my coach training calls, I remember saying that I didn’t want to DNF. despite the reassurances, I told myself that I’d be disappointed if I took longer than 8hours 45 min to complete the ultra. Secretly, I wanted to finish in sub 8hrs. When I saw the training plans for the day and the allotted times for each leg, I panicked a little bit because it meant that I really had to stay focused on the game plan. I loved corralling into the start line. I was super happy to see Jason there, on the sidelines, and kept waving to him like a little kid
Having people like Neil, Dana, Janelle, and Joanna surrounding me felt reassuring. It felt amazing to be at the start of my first ultra and to run with Joanna for 1.6kms. I got to see a lot of Joanna over the course of our training and knew that she was strong on the inclines. We got a groove going when we started out, but I also kept telling myself to not go out to fast (something I often do in half or full marathons), and to not chase anyone. I planned to just run the first leg steady. I came across a couple of other runners and enjoyed chatting with them as we progressed through the first few kms of leg 1. When I hit the bridge on the return and knew that the transition was just down the hill, I saw the time on my Garmin and felt elated. I was much faster than planned and it was in that moment that I realized that everything would be ok so long as I just kept focused. There were so many amazing moments. I kept thinking that the legs were finishing faster than I anticipated.
Coach’s Note:
Race day was so Jen. She showed up with little gifts for everyone; the sweetest gesture; and somehow managed to keep everyone laughing right up until the start. I’ll never forget getting a text mid-race that said, “I’m F**ing killing it!*” I laughed so hard but honestly, I was just so proud. She was killing it, and seeing that joy pour through her messages was everything.
I thought it was funny that the first group of female runners I joined, and chatted with, were talking about horror movies as we ran through the forests of Canmore. Somehow, it seemed fitting. We were in an ultra- race, running through a picturesque forest while discussing serial killers and scary films. I was also amazed at how awesome trail runners are. Strangers would acknowledge you, chat with you, cheer each other on, high-five everyone, and even check in to see how you were doing. It’s such a completely different vibe than running a half or full marathon. I love my half marathons and don’t want to dimmish these races, but there truly is a different vibe when trail running.
Transitions were fun, but I made every effort not to linger too long. These are definitely the moments where you feel the love from your team. I remember one transition in particular when I was swarmed (in the best way) by Ashleigh, Harsh, Nisa, Kyle, and Jason. Everyone was checking in, holding gear as I handed off partially empty water bottles, and exchanging fuel. It was in these moments that you really felt the team spirit, with everyone cheering for you, and for that I’ll always be grateful for that level of support.
I had a rookie mistake that had me laughing at the start of leg 3. My knee was feeling tight, and since I hadn’t dealt with sore knees in training, I wanted to eliminate any obstacle. Luckily, I had Biofreeze spray in my trail running bin, so I grabbed it and headed to the porta-potty. Not wanting to waste a moment, I decided to multitask. While peeing, I sprayed my knee, only to gasp audibly and announce to my concerned husband (and the runners in the adjacent stalls) that I had just sprayed my underwear with Biofreeze. Later, on leg 3, I sent a quick text to Janelle explaining that I now had a numb hooha! (If Michelle is reading this, she’s probably rolling her eyes and shouting, “Just say ‘vagina.’”). There, I said it!
It was emotional. So emotional. On legs 4 & 5, I remember seeing my teammate, Jodi, on the course, chatting with her quickly, and getting excited. I kept telling her how close we were to the transition, and in that moment, I looked at my Garmin and realized I was close to finishing under 7:45. I knew that if I picked up the pace and ran as fast as I could for the remaining kilometers, it was doable. I hit the wooden bridge, and I could hear my footsteps quicken. I texted Jason to let him know I was close and that we could finish together. Seeing him poised and ready to run it in with me still gives me that uncomfortable lump in my throat. He’s been there to cheer me on at all my big races, but he had never finished one with me, and that made it incredibly special.
It taught me that success is built through many moments: some filled with hard lessons and failure, others where you need to rely on others to help dig yourself out of some difficult challenges, and other moments that leave you feeling like you can conquer just about anything (e.g., when I completed 30 kms of trail running solo on Nose Hill trails in the blazing heat of August). Training for my first ultra taught me to stay focused and to figure out my strengths. I may not be the best on elevation (yet), but I can soar when I need to on other types of terrain. I learned more about myself as a runner because, unlike half or full marathon running, any deviation from staying present could lead to a mistake. I learned to trust what I can do and then ask for help from those around me when needed. I learned to accept that not every training run will be amazing, but they also hold a lesson. I learned that it’s ok to not love every moment because it’s the fight that gives you the grit and drive to tackle those really long runs, where every stride accumulates the hours of determination to get you to the start line.
Coach’s Note:
Coaching Jen reminded me that growth doesn’t always feel good while it’s happening. There were times she questioned the plan, the process, and probably me to be honest, but she never quit! That’s what defines an athlete. Watching her cross that finish line, smiling, strong, and proud, was one of those moments that remind me why I do this work.
Enjoy the challenge. We all run for many reasons, and an ultra will test you. Just thinking about it means you’re already mentally preparing for what lies ahead, you just haven’t fully woken that part of yourself up yet. Sign up and let the process become part of you. You’ll face challenges, but they’ll help you become a stronger runner. They won’t define you, but they will shape and guide you to keep moving forward. And in those quiet moments when you question what you’re doing, remember that there are others around you doing the same thing. Embrace the hard, the scary, and the fun of everything an ultra has to offer. Just do it; you’ll be surprised at what this journey unfolds when you push yourself to do something incredible.
I know that I’m returning to Grizzly 2026 to run a 2-person team relay with Joanna. I think I’d like to try another half marathon, maybe try to hit the 2 hr or a sub 2 (my fastest is 2:04). I plan to do more 5Peaks events, and there might be another ultra in there somewhere (but not next year). I think trail running has made me a stronger runner and I want to lean it that a bit more. I’m not sure what will happen but that’s the beauty of running. You never know where you’re going to end up. I just want to keep embracing the motivation to run alongside some amazing athletes.
Jen’s story is proof that your first ultra isn’t just about distance, it’s about discovery. From dry-heaving on the side of a trail to laughing her way through Biofreeze mishaps, she found strength in the chaos and joy in the journey.
Turning 50 might’ve sparked the goal, but what she really found was community, confidence, and a whole new version of herself. And in true Jen fashion, she did it with laughter!
