SNOW!
And winter! And skiing! The most wonderful activity in the most wonderful time of year! The anticipation of new snow, of fresh tracks, of a crisp, sunny day with friends - old and new - bombing around the mountain, carving, shredding, ripping, flying.
After a painfully dry few weeks, Tahoe was finally blessed with a series of storms that covered the area with feet of brilliant, white snowfall. I was determined to get my fill.
As the snow started to fall a couple of weeks ago, Ben invited me to head out on a Wednesday night in search of freshies at Kirkwood. Not sure if I'd be able to get my work covered and avoid any emergencies and get the greenlight from my boss, I went to work with a packed car and the optimism that I'd get my bases covered and be heading north to the mountains that night. I was counting on the communal knowledge that I live to ski and to deny me of that right would be unbearably cruel. I got the hall pass.
Despite our original plan to return Friday night we stayed another 2 days for Nordic skiing at Royal Gorge where with patience and encouragement, I learned how to skate stop, make a slight turn and stand up straighter. Progress! It was beautiful being out on the quiet trails of the nordic area - very different from downhill, but, as I'm discovering, almost as rewarding and fun. A fierce workout regardless. Just a different mindset.
But that was just the beginning because the next week it dumped. DUMPED. Tahoe got hit with storm after storm dropping up to 5-6 feet in some places. I was antsy all week watching the road conditions and the mountain ops reports. I drove up with my friend Stacy Thursday night and we hit Squaw back to back days. Despite the parking lot being more crowded than I've ever seen it, there was so much skiing to be had that I barely made it to the end of the day. Somehow ran into some GGTC members, Katie Evans and Sarah Rusby, also out on the slopes with the rest of mankind.
A leisurely 9:30am start seemed to bode well although within the first 20 yards I knew I was in for it. My original assumption had been that running on running snowshoes, my feet would just be on the top of the shoe/snow the whole time and I'd be fine. No real touching the snow. Uh, duh. The minute we started snow was kicking up off the back of the snowshoes and into my running shoes. My sneaks were soaking wet within the first hour. And then the balls of snow started to accumulate. On the bottom of my tights, around my shoelaces, around my shoes - it was like running with 10lb bags of sand on each foot. I had to pry them away every so often just to get some oomph back into my legs.
It was an easy enough first hour once I found a rhythm and all the skiers had gone past. You had to run with your legs slightly farther apart and almost with a little springy hopping motion. Nothing dramatic, just slight adjustments that nailed muscles I hadn't used in...forever? Long enough so that I was aware of them when they started to hurt.
Made it to the aid station and the volunteer said yes, she thought this was halfway, maybe a bit more. Had a Balance bar and some water which did wonders to my waning energy (go figure) and off I went on a more sprightly, Rick-inspired, run/walk, run/walk every 20 yards or so. Finally the downhill began - although nothing comparable to the uphill. Just a very mildly sloping downhill, sometimes flattish, sometimes rolling. Some skiers going the other way said the Northstar nordic center was about a mile away. Could that be true? I'd only been running for another 30 minutes since the aid station. How could that be right? It wasn't. There was a sign for the nordic center a mile away but then another volunteer said I was still about 3-4k away from the finish. So on I trudged - Ken and Matt were somewhere just behind me - until the chairlifts at Northstar appeared. Even downhills were getting to be a challenge. Finally, mercifully, I jogged my way to the finish flag where the race organizer met me and apologized. He said the course had been mismarked and I'd gone another 2-3 miles than the original 13. Sweet.
At the finish when I was describing how hard it had been, another race organizer said that's what everyone had said - even the top finishers, even, as she exclaimed, the 8th place finisher of Western States last year (who she coaches). The snow was heavy and deep (albeit we were on groomed trails), the weather cool and the course slightly mismarked. Ken said there were some DNFs so hey, we were all psyched just to finish and in the end, we all agreed, it was a great time.
After a painfully dry few weeks, Tahoe was finally blessed with a series of storms that covered the area with feet of brilliant, white snowfall. I was determined to get my fill.
As the snow started to fall a couple of weeks ago, Ben invited me to head out on a Wednesday night in search of freshies at Kirkwood. Not sure if I'd be able to get my work covered and avoid any emergencies and get the greenlight from my boss, I went to work with a packed car and the optimism that I'd get my bases covered and be heading north to the mountains that night. I was counting on the communal knowledge that I live to ski and to deny me of that right would be unbearably cruel. I got the hall pass. We had an amazing day at Kirkwood, no lines, some fresh, a good dose of sun before beelining it to Squaw the next day where we ripped through the tracked, hammering the bumps and the steeps and stopping just long enough to cram a PB&J down our throats. No lines, no waits, no end of fun stuff to ski. It was exhilerating and exhausting. But the best kind of exhaustion!
Despite our original plan to return Friday night we stayed another 2 days for Nordic skiing at Royal Gorge where with patience and encouragement, I learned how to skate stop, make a slight turn and stand up straighter. Progress! It was beautiful being out on the quiet trails of the nordic area - very different from downhill, but, as I'm discovering, almost as rewarding and fun. A fierce workout regardless. Just a different mindset. But that was just the beginning because the next week it dumped. DUMPED. Tahoe got hit with storm after storm dropping up to 5-6 feet in some places. I was antsy all week watching the road conditions and the mountain ops reports. I drove up with my friend Stacy Thursday night and we hit Squaw back to back days. Despite the parking lot being more crowded than I've ever seen it, there was so much skiing to be had that I barely made it to the end of the day. Somehow ran into some GGTC members, Katie Evans and Sarah Rusby, also out on the slopes with the rest of mankind. Finished the days with requisite high-fives and a beer or two before heading over to the west shore where I met my friend Ken and his partner Matt. Ken had emailed weeks ago asking if I'd be interested in a 21km snowshoe race from Dollar Point to Northstar. It was either that or the skate ski division of the race. Snowshoe running. How hard could that be? So I signed up and met the guys at their house that night so we could hit the race together the next day.
A leisurely 9:30am start seemed to bode well although within the first 20 yards I knew I was in for it. My original assumption had been that running on running snowshoes, my feet would just be on the top of the shoe/snow the whole time and I'd be fine. No real touching the snow. Uh, duh. The minute we started snow was kicking up off the back of the snowshoes and into my running shoes. My sneaks were soaking wet within the first hour. And then the balls of snow started to accumulate. On the bottom of my tights, around my shoelaces, around my shoes - it was like running with 10lb bags of sand on each foot. I had to pry them away every so often just to get some oomph back into my legs. It was an easy enough first hour once I found a rhythm and all the skiers had gone past. You had to run with your legs slightly farther apart and almost with a little springy hopping motion. Nothing dramatic, just slight adjustments that nailed muscles I hadn't used in...forever? Long enough so that I was aware of them when they started to hurt.After the first 3k or so, the course just went up. Up and up over the pass. Endless up. Completely doable on a trail run, not steep or anything, just harder at altitude and in the snow and with snowshoes. I'd failed to really look at the topo map of the course. Running turned to run/walking and then to walking. Make it to that tree then run. Then run to that bush. Then walk. Then run to that yellow spot in the snow. An aid station was supposed to be set up at the halfway point but as 1.5 hours became 2.5 hours I was mentally succumbing to the notion that it was taking me 2.5 hours to go 6 miles?! And Ken thought we'd be done in 3?
Made it to the aid station and the volunteer said yes, she thought this was halfway, maybe a bit more. Had a Balance bar and some water which did wonders to my waning energy (go figure) and off I went on a more sprightly, Rick-inspired, run/walk, run/walk every 20 yards or so. Finally the downhill began - although nothing comparable to the uphill. Just a very mildly sloping downhill, sometimes flattish, sometimes rolling. Some skiers going the other way said the Northstar nordic center was about a mile away. Could that be true? I'd only been running for another 30 minutes since the aid station. How could that be right? It wasn't. There was a sign for the nordic center a mile away but then another volunteer said I was still about 3-4k away from the finish. So on I trudged - Ken and Matt were somewhere just behind me - until the chairlifts at Northstar appeared. Even downhills were getting to be a challenge. Finally, mercifully, I jogged my way to the finish flag where the race organizer met me and apologized. He said the course had been mismarked and I'd gone another 2-3 miles than the original 13. Sweet. My feet were so cold at that point that I bought socks at the nordic center only to have them soaking wet the minute I had to put my sneakers back on. We walked to the gondola, got to the base of the mountain, waited an agonizing 45 minutes for a shuttle, back to the parking lot, into our car and finally, at last, home. I stood in the shower for 30 minutes trying to feel my feet again before we all plunged into the hot tub to celebrate our survival.
In hindsight, as always, it was an awesome adventure to share with friends. The day was fun and different and challenging, the scenery gorgeous (when I remembered to look up), the people friendly. My legs and hip flexors were toast that night but sitting in the hot tub recounting the day over beers made it all the better. I wouldn't say snowshoe running is my sport but that's also not to say I wouldn't try it again. I'll try any adventure if someone asks!
At the finish when I was describing how hard it had been, another race organizer said that's what everyone had said - even the top finishers, even, as she exclaimed, the 8th place finisher of Western States last year (who she coaches). The snow was heavy and deep (albeit we were on groomed trails), the weather cool and the course slightly mismarked. Ken said there were some DNFs so hey, we were all psyched just to finish and in the end, we all agreed, it was a great time.Never know what you can do unless you try, right?
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