By Alex MacInnis, Ostomy Canada Society Ambassador
What an incredible experience. I went into this 24‑hour ultra not fully knowing what to expect. I knew it would be tough—just not how tough.
Starting Strong
Early in the morning, my crew and I set up our personal aid station at the start/finish area. This little corner became my reset point between laps and was absolutely essential throughout the day.
During the pre‑race announcements, the organizers handed me the mic and gave me the chance to share my story—why I was running, and who I was running for. Being able to highlight Ostomy Canada and raise awareness right there on the start line meant a lot.
Into the First Laps
The race began with a mass start for the 6‑hour, 12‑hour, and 24‑hour runners. Right away, I met another runner with a colostomy, only a year and a half post‑cancer treatment. Seeing him out there, figuring out how to make running work for him, was incredibly inspiring.
This event was so much different than any race I have ever run. Instead of knowing how far I had to run, I knew how long I had to keep going, and see how far I could make it in that time. It made for a more social experience, and I got to enjoy many a trail chat with fellow runners.
The first two laps went smoothly: 20 km in just over four hours. But by the end of lap two, the sun was high and the heat hit hard.
Heat, Hills, and Hard Laps
After washing my feet, changing socks, and refueling, I headed back out. The first 3 km of each 10 km loop climb steadily uphill, and on lap three the heat became brutal. I started feeling nauseous and ended up crouched in a small patch of shade, soaking my hat and cooling my arms in a stream just to bring my temperature down. It wasn’t pretty, but I got the lap done.
Laps three and four were the hardest of the entire race—unrelenting heat, constant hydration management, and the mental battle of staying focused.
By 40 km, I had been running for 9 hours and 25 minutes.
A huge turning point came when the winner of the 6‑hour race generously lent me his running poles. I had forgotten mine at home, and the difference was unbelievable. They changed everything.
Into the Night
I reached 50 km before sunset. On lap six, I watched the sun drop behind the mountains and finished the loop under my headlamp. The night laps were tough but beautiful—whenever I remembered, I’d turn off my light and take in the star‑filled sky.
By the time I was preparing for lap eight, my crew could see I was fading. It was 3 a.m., and I was exhausted. They refueled me, encouraged me, and pushed me back out. I zombie‑walked most of the lap, convinced it might be my last. I knew I’d finish around 5 a.m. and wasn’t sure I had another lap in me.
I came in shivering—my body finally feeling the distance. I had skipped wearing a jacket despite my crew insisting, and the cold hit hard.
The Final Push
The climb was a struggle—my legs were toast—but I kept moving. Slowly, steadily, I reached the ridge as the sun rose. I shuffled my way across the ridge, and when I hit the final descent, something shifted. I picked up the pace. I knew I was almost done, and somehow I was moving faster than I had in hours.
A warm blanket, hot soup, and a few minutes by the fire brought me back. I didn’t want to head out again. I felt done. But my crew got me on my feet and sent me out for the final lap. All I had to do was finish before 8 a.m. for it to count.
It’s a funny thing, what being close to the finish can do.
23.5 hours. 90 km. 4,500 vertical meters.
And in the last half of the last lap, with nothing left to give, I pushed harder and faster.
When you think you have nothing left, keep going. You are capable of far more than you think possible.
Once again, Alex has pushed past his limits to raise awareness, funds for Ostomy Canada Youth Camp, and show us just how far our bodies are capable of going with an ostomy. And he’s not done yet! Stay tuned for Alex’s next race in September, the Frosty Mountain Ultra!
Disclaimer: The information shared by Ostomy Canada Society is for educational purposes only and is not a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Every person’s ostomy experience is unique. Please consult your health care provider with any questions about your condition, care, or treatment plan.