It all started with a crazy run to a crazy event on a
morning that I felt pretty rough, but it was beautiful day, so why not? After
an unlucky snowshoe loss near the end of the race, I was left just off the
podium. The next week I had a chance to snowshoe race in Gatineau at a pretty
big event, and was rewarded with a silver medal (the participation medal looked
pretty great too). Now was my chance to get a good sleep, not eat fast food
that would cause me to wake up in the morning and get out of bed, and to win.
For the third week in a row, there was a snowshoe race!
I was thinking of trying to run to the race, I knew that I
had seen the “Odessa” sign not too far from Kingston whenever I’m driving but,
but upon checking the real distance it was 40 something km, and the race
started at 10am. No way. I managed to hitch
a ride with this awesome man named Jack Judge; a true northern guy. The man was
63 years old and had just completed his first 100 MILE race in the fall. These
winter multisport athletes are a pretty impressive bunch. Anyway, we got out to
pretty much nowhere in particular when I saw a big red barn and a bunch of cars
parked nearby. A very Canadian venue for a very Canadian sport.
Mark Robinson photo
There were a lot of people at the event, it was great to see some people that I had raced with and who train in obstacle course racing at the Alpha gym, as well as a lot of people from around Ontario. This snowshoe racing is such a great community with an awesome draw, with a friendly atmosphere and great organizers it's a great challenge for anyone from an elite athlete to a person who just wants a challenge, and I appreciate the mix!
The race was essentially a 6 and a bit km course shaped like the letter q; with about 2km out, a 2km loop, and 2km back. Right from the gun I ran with intent to win and led for the first km or so, until just before the course got into some tighter forest trail, where Charley Murphy (who knew the course and has been winning these things for years apparently) took his opportunity and flew by me. I figured that he was just going to blow up and I'd pass him again at this pace, but after a little while running behind him I just couldn't keep the pace.
Confidence in first place (Mark Robinson photo)
The first thing that I do when I lose first place is to stubbornly stick to the leader until they either blow up or I realize that it wasn't a fake burst of speed. The first thing that I do when I realize that first place faster than me is look back to where third place is. And so beings the game of cat and mouse.
Getting the fire ready for soup and keeping tired athletes warm (Mark Robinson photo)
John Bartello, a very fast obstacle racer from Toronto was back in the trail, not far back enough that I couldn't see him, but far enough back that I wasn't too worried about being caught. It's a real mind game, as the trail twists through the forest, or if you hear something behind you, you have to judge how close they are, keep calm, keep pace, and not fall. I was relieved by cheering on those who were still running the first 2km out, giving high fives as I ran my final 2kmI managed to keep ahead, and came in for another second place finish for the second weekend in a row. I couldn't help but think that for the second weekend in a row, the guy who was expected to win did so, and I was second place, but I tried!
The following photos are a great sequence captured by Mark Robinson, of all things I'm thinking near the end of a race:
Focus. Don't fall.
Don't give up.
Look up. Am I following a trail?
A photographer. Better smile.
That smile sucked. Better cheer.
Cheering is exhausting.
Focus. You're close to the finish.
Done. Time to not do anything. (Grace Vanderzande photo)
The awards after the race around the bonfire were great, and I was happy to have such great soup and be in good company. Flanel is a good uniform in the off season I think?
Thanks Derrick for the great event (Grace Vanderzande photo)
After my near success in the snowshoe race the previous weekend, combined with the fact that reading week (a week of no school) had just started and all of my friends were training in California, I decided that it was time for me to go to Ottawa to train hard for 4 days, support my friends in their ski race, have fun in the city with friends, and try another snowshoe race. This time to win. Truthfully I had no plans of where to sleep, or how to get around, but I had a ride to Ottawa and a lot of friends in the city so I could make it work, right? It was too cold not to.
Friday night we got in and I stocked up on the necessary supplies for a weekend of training and unpredictable living situations.
The snowshoe and ski races were on Sunday, and this time I
was taking things seriously and putting in a training block (lots of training
in a short amount of time), so I got out to the trails twice on Saturday and
familiarized myself with what I thought would be the course. I ended up doing a
massive extra loop, but I did the course too, and upon reviewing the maps at
home I was straightened out. The course started and finished in a windswept
field then got into some pretty technical, twisty and hilly trail for about a
kilometer or so. The course then went across another wind swept field and up a
hill that got steeper as you went up (I remember very clearly). The next part of the course was
pretty standard trails until a steep hill of about 60m elevation gain and a
wild 1.5 km run out to the finish zone.
I got to the race start and after watching my buddies do a
ski race in -36°C it
was my turn to run 10km on snowshoes. And this time I wanted to win! It was
hard to judge proper layering for this type of event, but I settled for 2
turtle necks, some wind proof tights, and a Gore-Tex shell. I was told that if
I wanted to win I had to keep my eye on this older guy who was probably going
to win. Didn't seem so bad, but here’s what I've been told about Dave McMahon:
he was one an Olympic athlete in Biathlon (skiing and shooting is a pretty
badass sport to be very good at), he has also married an olympic athlete, he trains about 3 hours a day, he runs a
snowshoe race series and two snowshoe group workouts every week, he owns and
runs multisport company, he coaches, and that he's a really nice guy.
It would be less embarrassing for me if you just muted this video..
I saw a big Gatorade water cooler right by the start line and decided to go get a drink, as any nervous athlete would right before a race. I swigged down cup in one gulp and there was something seriously wrong. It wasn't cold. It was salty. It was hot chicken broth.
Surprisingly, it wasn't actually that offputting, but I didn't get more.
I looked around at some pretty intense people at this start line and asked the guy next to me whether he'd been in a snowshoe race before, the response was a little intimidating
"Yeah, I was 12th at the world championships a couple of weeks ago! But my hamstring hurts today"
Oh. So that's how it is.
As one would expect, Dave went hard right from the start, positioning himself in first place through the technical bit, and I stayed right on his heels, thinking that to win, I'd have to stay in second position for the first bit at least, right?
Thanks Dave for posting this photo
Once we were out of the technical area the world championship guy blew by us and I was forced to make the same move; trying to stay in second place for as long as I could. As we crossed the windy field area, I noticed that this new pace was getting us ahead of everyone else.
"Push a little harder and we won't have to worry about them again!" I yelled
I regretted that in about 2 minutes when I forced myself to slow down, unable to keep the pace up the next hill. Well shoot.
When the trail flattened out again, I was back with a vengeance, and by the bottom of the gradual downhill section I was leading the race. I had mixed feelings about this, maybe it was a bad move, it was pretty early to assert myself as the leader in a 10km race, especially with these world class competitors, but hey, I was feeling good. I had a few minutes of trying to suppress panic, even though I knew that I wasn't actually choking, the combination of the cold and the double turtle neck gave me the feeling that someone had their hands clenched around my throat, and I grabbed the shirt and held the neck out from my adam's apple to try to calm down. I did not however get passed.
The last time I raced with a turtleneck I just took it off... (Thanks Brad Jennings for this photo)
I maintained first place until we got pretty close to the start finish, when this guy just came blowing by me. I was pretty upset about this, the crowds were everywhere and this guy was taking my glory. The audacity. I figured that he probably just wanted to lead going into the second lap, and that he'd surely blow up at that pace, until he went straight for the finish line cheered on by the crowd. That jerk was only doing the 5k race. What a softie.
I led into the technical section and Dave was back on my heels, and we were just far enough down the trail that we could still look back and see 3rd place, (who was another guy, not the world championship guy), but I didn't think that he'd catch us. By the time we got to the big hill near the end of the lap, I was feeling confident, but not about to waste all of my energy on the uphill, which is where I was passed. I ran the rest of the race out and finished second place, beaten by a man who truly new how to race properly.
Proper podium gear. I do best in flannel!
I asked for some advice after the podium from Dave, saying that I was thinking of doing more of these races, and he had some very encouraging words for me. Apparently I was quite fast down hills and on flat sections, and he described to me how to run up the hills properly (I had just been walking with long strides). He told me that I would "keep the pace" well. I asked what pace, expecting him to say his weekly snowshoe race series pace, but he told me that I would be competitive in a world cup. That was the first time anyone had ever said something like that to me, and I don't think that I'll ever forget it. All just because I tried a new sport and decided to give it a second chance!
So I heard of a weird and crazy thing happening in the next town over, called a snowshoe race. Let's think about that for a second.
and
plus
Yep, it's basically a perfect combination of awkward footwear, keeping warm by any means necessary, and high risk racing with lots of falls.
I had been thinking of getting to the snowshoe race on the weekend but I decided not to because I was busy with lab work, Popeye's chicken, bowling, and then out at the bars until close. I woke up though (a direct result of the fried chicken) about an hour and forty minutes before the race start, and it was a beautiful day. Plus I don't believe in hangovers. I tried calling a friend who was going, but they didn't answer so I did the logical thing; ate two Clif bars and started to run toward Westbrooke.
To give a bit of context, that morning wasn't too cold (maybe -15C), but it had snowed the whole night before and as a result the roads and sidewalks weren't properly plowed. I figured that the run was probably about 15km, but that someone going to the race would pick up the guy who is running along the side of the road with snowshoes tied to his bag, right? Wrong.
This is not the face of a guy who may not be happy with his choices
People tell me frequently enough that I'm "crazy" when I tell them of some of the stuff that I do outdoors. This time I thought that I was a bit crazy or stupid too. I realized that to get to the race with no help I had to run at basically my race pace because of the snow. This sign was probably the best thing that I could imagine:
..but I still had a couple of Kilometers..
I got to the race just on time to sign up, but not with enough time to have a bathroom break that I desperately needed. Seriously that chicken.
When I got to the start line, the race organizers was just explaining that some crazy guy had run all the way from Queen's University, and was just in the bathroom so the race would start as soon as he was out. I realized that there wouldn't be time for the bathroom, so I just got to the start line in time to hear the end of this. I raised my hand and let him know that I was there and the race could start. This was when I knew that I was in a good place - all of the racers (about 50) gave me a round of applause. It almost made the explosive pain in my gut go away. Almost. It did however give me the confidence to be quite assertive at the start of the 6.5km long race. Which looks exactly as funny as you hope it does.
I'm the guy in the white sleeves and green vest slotting into second place. I realized immediately that this was an ambitious thing to do, and if we hadn't been running through farm fields I may have actually pulled off to hide behind a treeline and relieve myself. One guy who I definitely knew to watch out for was my friend (who didn't answer his phone) Derek Snider, a very accomplished runner (having competed and raced internationally) and skier. He's also a pretty nice guy, so when I heard him come up behind me I just got right out of the way. This left me in third place, amazed at the pace of the guys ahead of me, and concerned about the real snowshoe racers behind me.
A snowshoe race obviously must follow a trail of some sort, so there was a very skinny trail packed through the bush. This is pretty hard to navigate on snowshoes, but you definitely want to stay on the trail, otherwise the more snow you're fighting through the harder it will be. In my rush to make it to the start line on time, I put my shoes on the wrong feet, which meant that the binding release was on the inside of my legs. Now, I either have massive calves, very little coordination running in snowshoes, the trail was too skinny, or some combination of all of these but I kept charlie horsing my calves on the snowshoes, causing some pretty serious brusing, and of course loosening of my snowshoe bindings.
Bruised calves and fantastic PJs
I had fun being in a race situation again, and it was nice to be assertive and own that third position in the race. There was a guy trailing me, but I was in 3rd and the next closest person behind him was too far back to catch us-as long as nothing bad happened.
I talked a fair amount to him, trying to figure out what snowshoe racers were like and what other sports they do. After some fairly one sided conversation he asked me if I did ultra marathons which are basically day long races on your feet. I told him that I did if I felt like it, but not officially (planning on doing one this weekend). I was promptly informed that he's an Ironman Triathlete, and he does ultra marathons too. I guess that these snowshoe racers are pretty hard core!
I tested him by accelerating my pace a few times, and found that I could create a gap between us quickly enough, but I wasn't interested in holding that pace if I didn't have to (remember I had run an hour and a half in the snow just to get to the race). So I held down third place and enjoyed talking at my fellow competitor. I was too tired for my heart rate to go high enough to get me to the point of breathlessness, and I was enjoying what I was doing. No pressure, right?
Looking the part of a guy who's falling asleep in this one (thanks Robby Breadner for emailing the photo)
With just over a kilometer to go, I felt my left snowshoe completely come loose, but I figured that for that distance, I could get away with kind of dragging my left foot, and may still keep my podium finish. After a minute of foot dragging, we were caught by 5th place, and another 30 seconds or so later I totally lost my snow shoe. It was pretty sad, but I had to stop and re attach my snowshoe with my cold hands, and watch the other two run towards the finish (we probably had 800m till the finish). I still came in strong once I re-attached my snowshoe, with a good race smile on my face.
(thanks again Robby Breadner for the photo)
The race was a great experience, I was shocked that there were so many people taking part, and was more than happy with my 5th place finish - if I had wanted to win, I should have taken it more seriously; I went for the fun and enjoyed not being too competitive (and doing well) at a race where nobody knows me. One thing that struck me was just how challenging it is to run in snow with snowshoes. It's tough to balance, it's insanely hard on the calves, and the quads. Just so that everyone is aware, I have since built up a tolerance for Popeyes, so I can exercise and eat it, please don't judge. The real moral of the story here though is that sometimes we all have to do things and if you push yourself really hard, you may find a new sport or do something that you never really thought that you'd be able to do. Now I've got the taste for these races, and I've done more since.
Keep posted for more updates!
The person who caught me at the end of the race and place fourth was Lindsay, Derek's girlfriend and another very fast runner. Yep I got chicked, and I was lucky to have stayed ahead of her so long anyway!
