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!

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.

The 'dacks - almost 10 hours of running, crawling, climbing and rappelling

I've got some crazy friends. Like I mean nuts. And we all like adventures, you know – camping, biking, hiking, running, and exploring, you know, that kind of stuff. So when my buddies invite along on an adventure weekend to the Adirondacks I was pretty stoked and didn't really ask questions until later. Let's review some of the guys that I hang out with:

Kelsey K. and Matt F. invited me, they both like beavers

run lots

ride bikes hard

They also live with this guy

Who just won this

Or check this one out to see the obstacles better

Now, once I asked a bit more about the details of the trip to the Adirondacks, I got worried. We were going to do a trail called "The Great Range Traverse" that is close to 40km, ranked 3rd hardest in the US, all in one day. Running.
"I don't know guys, I don't really run much"
"Oh don't worry Chris, it will be fun!"
"Yeah! It will be!"
That conversation happened on Thursday I believe, which gave me a day to collect supplies for us to do this feat.

This is what ready for a serious adventure looks like!

We left Friday with the plan of driving across the border to Lake Placid, sleeping in a parking lot, and waking up some time before dawn so that we can actually get everything done in one day. Unfortunately, we got caught behind a rollover in the mountains probably 2 hours from our destination, which left us up in the middle of the night, caught on the road unable to move in the middle of the mountains past midnight. Once we got moving again, it was late enough for gas stations to be open, and we got close enough to call it and stop driving. Naturally, the smartest place to stop driving because you're running out of gas is a gas station, so that's what we did! Pulled into a gas station, pulled out our sleeping bags, and slept behind the car under the awning of a gas station, not bad eh?

This is me hopping in my sleeping bag to snuggle behind the car at the gas station

Unfortunately for us, we were woken a couple of hours later by a State Trooper, who wasn't really mad but woke us up nonetheless. After a bit of oatmeal and a refuel, we were off before dark and pulled up to the small dirt lot where we would start running to the bottom of the first mountain.

Headlamps on, chocolate bars packed, ready to rock and roll.

By the time we got up the summit of the first mountain (of 8 major peaks and some minor peaks), the sun was up and we got to see something pretty great.

This continued almost 10 more times, over almost 10 more hours, but unfortunately it got so foggy and we were in the clouds, so this was the only actual view that we had. We rotated turns who would lead up the mountains, shifting our order when we got to the top of one, giving high fives, yelling Chums! and doing wolf howls!

At some points we would be on all fours trying to keep moving up incredibly technical ascents, or climbing ropes, ladders, or bits of trees to keep going up.

This truly was challenging, but the company and the challenge were worth it (chocolate helped too).

After 5-6 hours of running and jumping and climbing I really began feeling it, especially in my knees and the bottom of my feet (using minimalist shoes was tough, but it's all I've got!). By the time we had gone up the final mountain, the 16km run out of the mountains stretched for what seemed like an eternity of poor coordination, and me mumbling chums! as I tried to keep up with the chums. I swear that I'm not crying.

It was one of the hardest things that I've ever done, but the trick is just to keep moving the next leg ahead of the last one generally following the pattern right, left, right, left. Even if my the end that's all that you can think about, you'll be happy that you tried that marathon, or 10km race! You'll look better than us afterward.

Chums