Nationals 2015, Saint Felicien

It's been a while since my first elite national championship race in 2012, which was at St. Félicien as well. I'm happy to say that my blog writing has improved at least!

My last blog post alluded to the fact that I wasn't feeling strong yet, and that the blown disk/sciatic nerve problems were over - but all of that time stuck in bed had a real toll on my body as well. I had most of the week to prepare on the course, and I was feeling quite confident in my technical skills/speed and control through some pretty gnarly sections of the course. The course itself was amazing; it started with a steep gravel climb up to the top of a ski hill, then we descended through berms, over rollers, and over a bridge that crosses the course into a big rock garden. Next we climbed back up a bit, went through a big rocky feature, then over a drop that shot into a berm. After this was a climb that brought us to a flat section of fast trail then tons of man-made rocky features with spectators everywhere. Next was a steep, technical climb back to the top of the hill, and some fast trail before a totally steep and technical descent, more climbing, descending another total steep chute, and that was the lap (repeat 6 times if you are racing the elite men's category). 

Thanks Eric Barnabe for taking these photos

I was really happy with my tires for the course, and got to practice on consistent conditions all week - which made it all the more annoying when it poured torrentially the night before the race and rained all morning. This made the course a lot tougher, and watching the women's race was somewhere between funny and worrying, as you could see people falling everywhere. I switched my tires the day before the race so that I would have grip in the muck, and convinced myself that a race in such tough conditions may help to slow the other, fitter guys down a bit. 

All of that mud didn't stop my charm (Hannah Clarke photo)

The race start line was one of the most tense that I had ever been on, nobody was talking (french or english), the crowds were all completely silent, and I don't even think that there was any music playing over the PA system. Maybe it's because we had all seen how much the women were falling in their race, and were all a bit scared, but nobody was even looking at each other, everyone was just staring at the steep hill that we were about to climb, probably wondering if they'd have some sort of cardiac arrest induced by chasing the Pan Am champion up hills and through the bush for close to two hours. Finally the silence was broken "30 seconds until start", said the PA system, and then about a quarter of the guys started praying. 

The back of the race start, check out the focus on my face (André Chevrier photo)

The start was eventful, something happened probably 5 seconds into the race that almost caused a 12 person pile up, but we managed to stay on our bikes, and I felt strong as we shot up the hill - for the first 10 seconds, then I was just trying to move forward and not be last up the hill. As one may expect, it didn't matter anyways because there was a bit of a traffic jam going on anyways, so the leaders were already pretty much down the hill by the time that I could move at my own speed.

Pan Am champion still in good form leading the race, I'm in the traffic jam by the trees (André Chevrier photo)

I got into a groove, and made some passes in the upcoming section, aggressively moving my way into the top 20 (probably my favourite part of the entire race was when the trail widened up and I passed 3 guys at once as spectators were cheering and yelling). My speed was short lived however, as I opted not to wear glasses for the race, and I got a ton of mud stuck in my eye. Racing with the pros in the mud on a technical course with one eye closed is not ideal, so I slowed down and kept moving until the feed zone, unable to blink the much out of my eyes (contact lenses were also a concern). I came through the feed zone on the first lap looking for a neutral water feed, but the neutral feeds weren't ready for me (nobody gets a feed in the first 10 minutes of a race). I had a quick stop to rinse my eye and got going again, but by this point I had lost probably 5 positions. 

Chasing wheels early in the race, still clean and ready to put my surprise attack on these guys
(Eric Barnabe photo)

It's tough losing ground so quickly for a few reasons; firstly there's the obvious one that while everyone is going super fast and jostling for positions early in the race I was just trying to be able to see again. Secondly I was riding with guys that push me, meaning that I would ride harder because they are so close to my ability (if not a bit better). By the time I was moving again I was being caught by the last few guys (who are still incredible athletes - it takes real commitment just to make it to the elite category), but it's not the same as racing right beside the faster guys who I had worked hard to pass and to stay with. 

The paparazzi were sneaky in this race, hiding in the bushes (Hannah Clarke photo)

The rest of the race I worked on consistency and keeping the rubber side down. It was a tough race, but I was riding all the features, and apart from a bit of a pile up in a steep, muddy chute it was pretty incident free. I felt way better than the week before at Baie St. Paul, and my legs were strong - I just didn't have the lungs to support racing fast. I could push at about 85% of my normal self I think, but technically I was riding well, and I was stronger than the week before!

The picture quality isn't great, but watching this moment of racing is going to always stick with me, Quinton, you rock man.

It was great to race in Quebec, I met some pretty fantastic people, and they treat their athletes properly - free beer for elite athletes after the race. Because most of the elite athletes don't really drink, I was able to wrangle up some extra free drinks and had a good post-race social with my friends Dylan and Emily. None of us were overly thrilled with our race, but there was a second chance - the team relay is always the next day. The course would be the same as the elite course minus one of the super technical descents and some climbing. We decided to put a team in and give it a go. After a few beers I thought that the reason that I didn't go fast was simply because I didn't try hard enough, and was set on kicking ass in the relay to prove to myself that I was really fast.

A lot cleaner without that rain (Scott Lynch photo)

I did get blown out of the water, which makes sense because while the other athletes were still training 10-20 hours per week, I was sitting in bed. I'm happy to say I have power back in my legs, and the lungs will come back with time. At least I know where I stand, and the team had fun anyways!

What a buff team! (Sylvie Chénier photo)

I may only have a few big races left this season, but I've been training very hard again, I'm just as focused and motivated as ever, and with the support that I've got, I'll be flying at the Ontario Cup in 2 weeks in Muskoka.

Coming back at the provincial circuit

All things considered, this past weekend was pretty much the perfect weekend - I mean what more can a guy ask for? Good health, great support, camping, and fantastic weather. Oh, and giant inflatable pretzels, they're important too. As my last blog post says, I was off the bike for 2 weeks, stuck in bed due to a disk problem in my back pinching on my sciatic nerve. Luckily I bounced back so quickly that it alarmed the physiotherapist that I was seeing, who didn't look like he believed me when I told him that I had got back on my bike. This means that in the 3 weeks leading up to the race, I rode my bike 4 or 5 times. I wasn't really going for a good result; I would just be happy to finish the race, to support my friends, and to have a good time camping!

The race was at Albion Hills Conservation Area near Bolton, Ontario - which is a sweet course that hasn't been in the Ontario Cup circuit for 3 or 4 years. Another perk of racing at Albion is that the trails area awesome, and it is attached to a campground. I camped out with the Wolfpak crew, Sarah from Two Wheel Racing, as well as Davis and Hannah from AWI racing - couldn't have asked for a better crew!

I'm the lucky guy on the left, getting my legs stretched out

If we weren't joking by the fire or eating, we had the luxury of swimming to cool off (it was so hot this weekend that I was melting, but maybe that's because I'm used to days like these.

Alex and I are sharing the most buoyant pretzel in the world (thanks Mary Lynch for the photo)

The race course for the elite race was tough! There were two outstandingly unforgiving hills (the Green Monster and the Wall of Pain), as well as a bunch more hills, and insane sun that I just couldn't get away from - but at least there were gnarly features to huck off of in front of the crowds!

On the race start I was thinking mostly of how badly I just wanted to finish such a tough race, especially after being in bed for 3 out of the last 4 weeks or so. Once the gun went off, I was't too aggressive, and filed in near the back of the pack - waiting to see how the long, hot race would unfold.

I had a couple of pretty good laps, with a big collision with a tree, and fell into "no man's land"after that. "No man's land" is that part in the race where the guys behind you aren't fast enough to catch you, but you have lost enough ground on the guys ahead. It's a tough place to be, especially when you're not feeling good and you know that these guys have trained 30+more hours than you over the last 4 weeks.

I kept confident however, and really enjoyed having a cheering section at most places in the course! The tech features were a positive as well, and though there are no photos of me, this is what doing them looked like.

Big shout out to Andrew, who trusted me with his super expensive wheels not to do exactly what Sarah does in this video. It wasn't completely misplaced trust, I landed smoothly and a little closer to the rocks - his wheels are fine.

Currently I'm on the course for the Baie St. Paul Canada Cup bike race, staying at a campground with wifi...weird right? So I'm sitting in the shade by my tent, waiting for the race to start in like 4 hours - hoping to have my legs back to how I was feeling before this back problem!

Big shout out to CLIF bar for fueling this 2 week trip, and Thule for making me able to pack so well!

Panada Cup

This weekend I was racing in another Canada Cup, this one being arguably a bit more high profile; it takes place on the Pan American Games course at Hardwood Hills (Pan Ams is in less than a month now!). This brought athletes from all over North and South America to the venue (not to mention the cyclists from all around Canada), which is a neat opportunity for guys like me!

The dude from Columbia was very strong, and apparently a good starter
Thanks Hannah Clarke for always getting photos of our race

There's another reason that this race was very high profile for me; last year I broke my ribs there - I'll admit it, I was very afraid of riding that course again, and I didn't want to have to ride the chicken lines around the obstacles (what I mean by this is that any technical feature on the course had an alternate loop around it, but those took more time and weren't as cool). I borrowed a super light set of wheels with wide tires to help me boost my confidence, and got to the course early on Saturday to practice the course.

I can always count on teammates for help and support!

I got down to business with the goal of conquering every single obstacle on the course with the exception of "endo rock" where I broke my ribs last year. I figured that it wasn't worth the risk of me having a flashback and pressing the brake too much or something. I got my mojo quickly, and aced through the Disera Drop section (which scared me a lot).

Next was a crazy lineup of features, the first of which was a big rock drop (not unlike the one that I had broken my ribs on the prior year), followed by a massive hop over two stacked logs, then a downhill rock garden feature called boneshaker. I was working up the courage to hit the big rock line when team USA showed up. Normally I'd let them through so that I could continue to grow my bravery until such a time that I wasn't scared and would launch myself off of it, but my friend told team USA to wait, and then I really had to step up. I guess I work well under pressure, because I sent it right over the rock, hopped the logs, and that was it. I do admit though, that I was practicing my hops this week in preparation.

Once I got over that hurdle, everything felt easy, I had my flow and mojo, I helped friends and other riders to learn other sections of the course, and my bike was in perfect tune. I really just needed to get my mind around a few things and then I was fine. The weather was supposed to be nice, and I would have the race that I've been working towards, right?

This is us when we though that we'd have a sunny race

The race day was one of those days where it might rain, but it wasn't forecasted to, and everything goes the opposite of plan. I felt like the entire race was underneath a waterfall, which made the trails pretty greasy - kind of like someone had spread a few inches of peanut butter across the entire course. I was grateful to be using my friend's really nice carbon wheels, and also knew that I couldn't afford to fix them if I broke them, so I pumped my tires about 25% higher than I would normally ride with - just to be safe.

This is how we were feeling in the rain
Peter Kraiker photo 

The race start was chaotic as usual, and not even 10 seconds into the race I found myself skidding sideways to avoid crashing into someone - if someone 5 guys up touches his  brake, the resulting accordion effect is dangerous. I lost a lot of positions, but I kept upright and fought my way into a better position by the time we hit the singletrack. As usual, I couldn't ride my own speed because of how congested the trail was with riders, but I avoided crashes and kept the rubber side down, slowly gaining confidence on the slippery tires over the muddy terrain.

By midway through the second lap I was still pushing and making passes, hadn't fallen, and was shooting through all of the technical lines. My tires weren't doing me much of a favor in terms of grip (especially the rear), but I was riding with guys that I hadn't before, moving way up the field compared to the other two Canada Cup races that I'd done this year. I was feeling confident too, because in any section that I could actually pedal hard and use my fitness, I was gaining ground.

Thanks Eric Batty for cheering me on and taking such great photos, it means a lot to have someone that's been so influential in my cycling cheering me on.

By the third and fourth laps, enough people had been through the rainy course that it was totally loosened up and I couldn't ride up any of the hills, hike-a-bike time. I kept positive and rode my best, but I just couldn't keep up with guys who had made better tire choices, or were used to the tires that they were riding.

Another great shot from Eric http://www.ericbatty.com/

I was pulled due to the 80% rule (if you are not within 80% of the leader's time you are pulled off course in elite national races), but I had a lot of people come up to me after the race, saying that I looked stronger than I have before, and even my competitors passed on compliments. Things are looking good for me, I've got the perfect bike (with my own set of carbon wheels being built now), and though it may have taken me a bit longer than the other guys who spent time down south this winter, I am coming into form and there are more national series races in 4 weeks - just enough time to train and re focus for some great road trips, results, and races!

I would also like to thank my mom for coming out to the race this weekend! Love you mom!

The faces of snowshoe racing

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)

Snowshoes round 2!

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.

Chocolate, tuna, bananas, rice. Yep, athlete's diet!

This whisky was delicious. 

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!

Snowshoe racing. Yep that's a thing!

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!

Compasses, maps, and initials all day long

I'm sure that most athletes who have an almost unhealthy focus on a seasonal sport get into a routine in the off season that can seem a bit mundane at times. We all crave that exercise and competition, or even just something to do until it's time to compete in our respective sports again. For me, I just can't wait to ride bikes, my strategy as such is to book myself up entirely for every weekend until bike season is upon us again, and I have varying success in my endeavors. Last weekend I tried out for the Nordic ski team, but it's a very small, pretty elite race squad, and I'm quite new to the sport, so that was a flop. This weekend however, I had the opportunity to take part in an orienteering race through the snow.

A cool landmark in the race, I wonder how long it's been stuck for? (Brad Jennings Photo)

The concept is simple, one hour before start we are all given maps - this race spanned farm fields, forests, canals, creeks, ponds, swamps, rivers, drumlins, hydrolines, and even a university campus. The race format is teams of two, navigating in our own chosen order to try to make it to all of the 20 checkpoints and back in 3 hours. There are only 2 ways to get penalties - being late (penalty of 10 points per minute past the given 3 hours), and losing your punch card (penalty of 100 points). The 20 checkpoints in the race were worth anything from 20 points to the biggest which was worth 70 points, with their value assigned based on how far from the start finish that they are, how technical the terrain was that they are in, and how hard they are to find. Seems simple, right? Right. 

Measuring distances so that we can count steps and get there precisely

My buddy Kelsey and I were team Gnarvest, and friends Matt and Nichola joined as a co-ed team called Matata Hakuna. The race started off pretty well, and almost all of the teams went to checkpoint number 1 first. Then Kelsey and I deviated from the pack and ran straight down a steep ridge to start searching for checkpoint 3.  After number 3 we were the first to make it to checkpoint 20 (worth the most points) and as such I left a yellow C + K unavoidably close to the checkpoint as a calling card. This was a trend that I somehow managed to uphold for 5 of the 20 checkpoints, though admittedly the initials got smaller and smaller. 

Team Gnarvest - also did I mention that I"m always somehow #31? (Brad Jennings Photo)

We got a bit mixed up and lost in the northern boundary of the map for what seemed like forever, but eventually got our bearings and got up to checkpoint number 5, which was inside a massive cedar tree. This is where things went bad for us
"Hey Chris, pass me the punchcard"
"Dude you had the punchcard"
"You're right, Uh oh."

Now we were on the hunt for a white punchcard in the snow, which could have been anywhere as we had run probably 2km since the last time that we punched it. We gave a solid effort of backtracking and scanning the ground, desperately looking for the punchcard as the other teams kept finding checkpoints and filling in theirs. Eventually we just had to call it and get back on track, we figure that we could just punch the map, and if we went really really fast we may be able to still cover a lot of ground.

We may have screwed things up, but at least our uniform was on point
(Just had to get rid of the turtle necks) (Brad Jennings Photo)

This extra pressure brought Kelsey and I to another level of speed (our fastest km in the 3 hour, 20km race was 4:18 on snow and ice) and focus, using the compass and map to pinpoint our next destination with surprising accuracy.

Teamwork and interpretive dance (Brad Jennings Photo)

With Matata Hakuna, teamwork never looked like so much fun (Brad Jennings Photo)

Teamwork was necessary in a lot of different ways during this race; and we did a great job working together. When the bush got too thick we would leapfrog and point a bearing to a tree if we couldn't keep a straight line, re adjusting as we went. Kelsey even helped me up some of the icy hills (his shoes have carbide spikes in them, where mine do not), these were fun times because we got to hold hands and run up hills together <3.  We crossed over frozen water, through the locks north of Peterborough, over tall barbed wire fences, through thick bush, and back to Trent University to be the second team back, managing to get to all checkpoints with 11 minutes to spare. Being the second team back, we got to cheer our friends in.

Kels and I aren't that cute

After the points were tallied (and our 100 points were deducted), it was quite close, but Kelsey and I came out on top with a 10 point lead over second place. Matata Hakuna explored their way into third place for the day, and we all felt pretty great. We worked hard for it, and it was pretty sweet to get to do such a fun race like this, Sure we got soakers, and it was a bit frustrating sometimes being unable to find the checkpoint or being too far off, but we didn't give up and were the only team to get to every checkpoint. Afterward we had a massive sushi lunch at an all you can eat sushi place in Peterborough, and I can't think of a better ending to any story.