There's only one me, I am it.
I have a dream, I'll follow it.
It's up to me to try...
American cross-country ski racer, coach, NSCA-CSCS, CrossFit Level 1
Monday, September 20, 2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Back in the grind
Just another week here on the farm. I took a couple of weeks to fully-recover from my little run, and now I'm training full-steam ahead. Here's a little peak at an average week of mine:
MONDAY:
9AM Strength at FIT Studios with Max, this time was endurance strength with supersets.
6PM soccer game against SW FC, a hard-fought match, but in the end, we lost 2-0 :(
TUESDAY:
8:15 AM Yoga, I find it is really good for recovery, and also good to work on mobility, especially in the hips and shoulders.
3:45 PM Hyland Hills dryland with Piotr and Go! Training, including isometric strength, ski-specific plyos, and L4 running intervals (which I skipped, feeling a little tired from fighting off a sinus infection).
6 PM Stopped by the City of Lakes Loppet office and got a tour of the recently cut trails at Theodore Wirth Park in preparation for JO's. It is going to be a wicked awesome course! Can't wait to train and race on it myself.
WEDNESDAY:
8:30 AM Distance skating and technique work with Caitlin and Piotr. Really pleased with the progress of my skate technique. It has been great to work regularly with a coach and have that kind of continuity in my technique work. I think the drills and stretches I have been doing for hip mobility have really allowed me to breakthrough in my skating.
3-5:30 PM Course marking and setup for the Salomon Autumn Trail Series #2.
6:30 PM Race time! 60 people in attendance, despite rainy weather.
8:30 PM Finished taking down the course in the rain, time for dinner and working up race results.
THURSDAY:
7AM Rollerski workout with Go! Training 5x:45 sec single stick, 3x10min L3 no pole skate, 1x10 min L3 skate
4 PM Power workout @ FIT with Caitlin and Aaron.
6 PM Nordic walking with Hoigaard's "Push The Poles" group in their last training session for the Trail Loppet
FRIDAY:
4PM Shake out run
5:00 work
SATURDAY:
9 AM Trail Loppet Half Marathon. Had a grueling but successful race with a strong finish, finished in 1:41. Happy with my fitness!
4 PM Worked an 8.5 hour shift, I just call it "active recovery"
SUNDAY:
12 PM work, again. Day off from training.
And that's my week: 13 hours trained, 15 hours worked, and now I'm headed over the Jojo's for some pesto and wine! Sounds like an excellent way to unwind and cap-off the week.
MONDAY:
9AM Strength at FIT Studios with Max, this time was endurance strength with supersets.
6PM soccer game against SW FC, a hard-fought match, but in the end, we lost 2-0 :(
TUESDAY:
8:15 AM Yoga, I find it is really good for recovery, and also good to work on mobility, especially in the hips and shoulders.
3:45 PM Hyland Hills dryland with Piotr and Go! Training, including isometric strength, ski-specific plyos, and L4 running intervals (which I skipped, feeling a little tired from fighting off a sinus infection).
6 PM Stopped by the City of Lakes Loppet office and got a tour of the recently cut trails at Theodore Wirth Park in preparation for JO's. It is going to be a wicked awesome course! Can't wait to train and race on it myself.
WEDNESDAY:
8:30 AM Distance skating and technique work with Caitlin and Piotr. Really pleased with the progress of my skate technique. It has been great to work regularly with a coach and have that kind of continuity in my technique work. I think the drills and stretches I have been doing for hip mobility have really allowed me to breakthrough in my skating.
3-5:30 PM Course marking and setup for the Salomon Autumn Trail Series #2.
6:30 PM Race time! 60 people in attendance, despite rainy weather.
8:30 PM Finished taking down the course in the rain, time for dinner and working up race results.
Just waiting for all my people to show up
THURSDAY:
7AM Rollerski workout with Go! Training 5x:45 sec single stick, 3x10min L3 no pole skate, 1x10 min L3 skate
4 PM Power workout @ FIT with Caitlin and Aaron.
6 PM Nordic walking with Hoigaard's "Push The Poles" group in their last training session for the Trail Loppet
FRIDAY:
4PM Shake out run
5:00 work
SATURDAY:
9 AM Trail Loppet Half Marathon. Had a grueling but successful race with a strong finish, finished in 1:41. Happy with my fitness!
4 PM Worked an 8.5 hour shift, I just call it "active recovery"
Jojo Winters, Sara Morse, Caitlin Compton, and myself at the Trail Loppet
SUNDAY:
12 PM work, again. Day off from training.
And that's my week: 13 hours trained, 15 hours worked, and now I'm headed over the Jojo's for some pesto and wine! Sounds like an excellent way to unwind and cap-off the week.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Challah French Toast
My favorite thing about fall? The food! Cooler weather means the beginning of baking season, which gives way to my favorite dinner combination: fresh bread and homemade soup. Nothing tastes better after a long day of training in the chilly fall air than a bowl of hot soup full of garden vegetables and some crispy warm bread.
I'm also a huge fan of breakfast food, so I thought I would share my latest creation: challah French toast. Nothing makes better French toast than egg bread. I took four slices of yesterday's loaf, toasted them up with butter, flour, egg, milk and vanilla, and voila! breakfast fit for a queen. Serve it up with apple slices and wash it down with some ginger beer.
I'm also a huge fan of breakfast food, so I thought I would share my latest creation: challah French toast. Nothing makes better French toast than egg bread. I took four slices of yesterday's loaf, toasted them up with butter, flour, egg, milk and vanilla, and voila! breakfast fit for a queen. Serve it up with apple slices and wash it down with some ginger beer.
Thank you America's Test Kitchen! Picture-perfect every time.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
The Devil is in the Detail
Here is where the magic happens: a Wednesday morning in early September in front of a laptop over some bagels. Piotr, Caitlin, and I sat down late this morning to hash out the plan for the rest of fall training and into winter. We made weekly training plans, figured out travel schedules, and made plans for peaking our training. All important stuff with regard to getting us around that race course as fast as possible once the snow flies. Just for fun, I even decorated the map at the back of my monthly planner with the dates and locations of the domestic races I've got my sights set on. Getting excited for all the places I'm going: Montana, Maine, Washington, California, and Idaho, just to name a few. But in reality, there's still a long stretch before I get to any of those places, so I'm just going to put my head down and keep plugging away like I have every week since the beginning of May. Step 1: off to bed!
Friday, September 3, 2010
TransRockies Retrospective
The last two weeks seem like a blur to me. I finished TransRockies last Friday, zipped home on Saturday, worked on Sunday, and then got everything ready to put on my annual trail run series, the Salomon Autumn Trail Series, on Wednesday. I just got off work for the day, and now that I am (mostly) unpacked, it is time, as Adam Chase says, to unpack and sort through all the wonderful memories I have from TRR2010 . . .
(see pictures from the previous post)
On Saturday, August 21st, as we made the drive down to Buena Vista from Avon, I caught glimpses of the mountains and valleys that Court and I were only a few short days away from running across. As I lay spooning with Henry the yellow lab, wedged between sleeping bags and a physioball, on top of a massage table in the back of a VW bus, I thought about the months that had passed since Courtney had first talked me into doing this crazy race. The idea had been marinating in my mind since the conclusion of TransRockies 2009, where I worked for the Salomon crew and first fell in love with the event. It was here that Courtney and I got the invitation from Gui at Salomon to run. At the time, Courtney jumped at the chance, while I was much more hesitant. I thought, "Me? Never! It wouldn't be good for my ski training, I'll get injured, I'm not trained for such a thing . . ." But the idea stuck in my head. As enamored with the idea as I was, I just thought it too impractical. But Courtney persisted, and gradually my resistance gave way to thoughts of, "This is a once-in-lifetime opportunity. . . I can't just put off everything I want to do because of my ski career . . . Maybe it would be a good summer training goal . . . Why the heck not?" Finally, at the end of March, I was feeling bold and feeling the need for some adventure, so I agreed.
Beginning of May, I hit the summer ski training season with my usual vigor, but this year I had the added motivation of needing to get in shape for running back-to-back-to-back (x2) OD runs. Running over-distance is nothing new to me. It has been a part of my ski training for years. Every Sunday for the past, oh, 7 years, I have hit the trails for 2 to 5 hours. It has become a ritual for me; my church. This year, in order to get ready for TRR, I laid on the running extra thick, adding weekly threshold intervals, occasional uphill treadmill intervals, and even some downhill workouts.
The months I had to prepare for TransRockies, which once seemed like an eternity, went by in a flash, and then I found myself nuzzled up against a giant yellow beast, less than 24 hours away from crossing that start line. For Courtney and I, the race would be like running home for us. I had been staying at her house in Avon, just downhill from the final finish line in Beaver Creek, for the previous week. Spending substantial time with her for the first time since college had quickly revitalized our friendship, and reminded us of why were such a good pair. This all put the race in an interesting perspective: we were making a 75 mile drive south-east to get dropped off and run then all the way home, not via the direct route. At the end of the trail waited all the comforts I had enjoyed for the past week: a warm familiar bed, family, and friends.
We arrived in Buena Vista and the fun shortly commenced. We checked in for the race and got loaded down with duffle bags filled with swag, we enjoyed many excited reunions with TransRockies staff, racers from last year, and Salomon team members, we ate dinner, and then it was off the the hotel to make final preparations. I had quite the time trying to sort all my gear for the week and pack it into the race-issue duffle ("All this stuff? It's just running!"). Courtney and I were both feeling pre-race jitters as we talked over strategy for the first stage, but we finally had done everything we thought we could, and were ready to get a good night sleep.
The next morning I found myself in the starting corral, heart pumping, as I went through a final mental checklist: body glide? (check), water? (check), Gu's? (check), Salt Stick? (check), sunglass, sunscreen, visor, heart rate monitor, race number, timing chip? (check and double check). Sanity? Um . . . BANG! too late now! And we were off! Me and my best friend, about to do something neither of us had ever imagined we could. And all it would take was one step at a time.
The first stage rolled through dessert terrain as the sun rose in the sky. The plan was to take the pace out very steady and hopefully pick up the intensity through the week. Court and I trotted along, took pictures on the move, sang songs, made up some of our own songs, chatted with other teams. We both felt good, but stayed focused on hydrating and taking electrolytes.
For Courtney, this was especially important, as she has cystic fibrosis, although most people would hardly notice. Years ago, most CF patients died before elementary school, but these days treatment allows patients to live much longer and healthier lives. We had to take many precautions in order for Courtney to do this race, and she was under close medical supervision throughout. One precaution was to be on a strict regiment of salt intake, because the mutated sodium transporter protein that is the root of CF causes a person to sweat out all of the body's salts. I would remind Courtney every 15 minutes to take a salt pill, whereas I was only taking a salt every 30-60 minutes.
As we neared the finish of the 20 mile stage, the sun was high in the sky and we turned onto a wide-open straight dirt road. The heat was sweltering and Court could feel it. You could see a line of salt, like a solvent front on chromatography paper, from her dried sweat forming on her compression calves. I felt much stronger, and knew I was a better runner on the flats (hey, I'm from Minnesota, it's what I know best). So we got out our tow line for the first time and I hauled at a nice steady pace. The flat, straight finish was a bit brutal, but we finished strong and quickly plunged into the ice cold waters of the Arkansas River. I didn't even try to comprehend that 5 equally challenging stages lay directly ahead of us: I just relished the fact that today's stage was the farthest I'd ever raced. Our team finished 6th on the day.
Back at camp, we did everything we could to recover. We stretched, hydrated, got massages, ate, put our feet up. Courtney got her two bags of saline in the med RV, which were doctor's orders as part of allowing her to do this race. That night, despite camping within 100 square yards of 300 other racers, I slept like a rock.
Bright and early the next day we were at it again. This stage was "the" climbing stage. Although every stage featured at least 3,000 feet of climbing, this one was short and steep, making its profile look like the tip of a pencil. We were going to ascend and descend Hope Pass, a starkly misleading name, taking us up 3,000 feet in roughly 3 miles, so Court and I brought along our ski walking poles. Once we hit the climb, we both put our heads down and settled into a rhythm. We didn't talk much, just to ask "What are you?" to which the other would reply with 1 through 5, indicating how hard it felt. We agreed to keep the effort at 2 or 3 (1 being easy, 5 being max effort), wanting to make sure we were setting a good pace from the very beginning. We passed other teams, got some comments about our poles and the unfair advantage skiers have, and grunted and panted our way to the top. We didn't even stop, but I glanced back, trying to savor the spectacular view. We descended with good speed, rolled along the edge of the twin lakes, and finished very strong, 5th in the open women.
Day 3 was the "long" stage of the race, although at 24 miles it was hardly any longer than the second or third longest days. Nonetheless, we approached the stage with due caution. We camped the night at 10,000 feet in Leadville and strode out of town at 8 AM the next morning. We simply ran nice and steady, trying to conserve something for the last 60 miles of the race. We ran over the continental divide and entered Eagle Country; we knew we were getting closer to home! Stage 3 is best known for its long, flat finish. With about 5 miles to go in the stage, you run along a vista from which you can actually see the finish at Camp Hale. You then drop down to the valley floor and run 3 miles on a dirt road to the finish. On this particular day, we snuck up on the 4th place team with 8 miles to go. They suddenly picked up the pace when they saw us and made a gap. I felt good due to the conservative pace, so I hooked Courtney up to the tow line and pulled up the climbs on the rolling terrain. We got down to the valley floor and 4th place was still in sight. I was feeling competitive (like usual) and asked Court if she would indulge my ego and come along for the ride. So I pulled the last 3 miles with all my might, Court giving everything she had, as well. We gradually made ground on the team until maybe 3/4 mile to go, when they turned back while walking and suddenly started running. Darn, they saw us coming! They held the same pace as us and maintained their lead, but it was a great effort on our part, and we were both happy we went for it. Needless to say, the rest of the day was spent on some very focused recovery. And we moved into 5th place overall!
Day 4 was one that I was looking forward to, as it had some of the best views, and it was also the only stage I had run previously. It was a simple 14 mile climb and descent from Camp Hale to Red Cliff, where margaritas and fish tacos waited at Mango's. But the stage turned out not to be such a walk in the park. Standing in the starting pen Court confessed: "I'm not feeling so well Shau" (that's me). I just told her we could play things by ear, and to let me know how she felt. Right away things took a turn for the worst. We jogged easy out of the start, but soon had to walk. And then Court pulled over and dry heaved. She didn't throw up, so we continued to walk and jog across the rolling section before the climb. I felt fantastic, even after our hard effort the day before, but I wasn't in a hurry, I knew there were plenty of miles left to hammer. We got to the start of the climb and I hooked Court up to the tow line immediately. Like on Stage 2, I just put my head down and got into a grind, nordic poles and all. Unlike Stage 2, however, I didn't ask Court "What are you at?" I already knew she felt awful. So I just pulled as hard as I could. We passed teams on the climb that we would have normally chatted with, but all I could muster today was a faint smile, while Court starred straight ahead, trying to maintain her composure. Every 5 to 10 minutes she would ask to stop and pull over to dry heave. Teams would pass by feeling sorry for us, while I stood by and rubbed her back. Then we would keep going and repass those teams. The only upside to this entire situation was that I was very happy with the fitness I was proving to possess. I pulled the entire climb with the bungee line maxed out at a pace I know I couldn't have held a year ago. All I wanted to do was get our team to the finish that day. I wanted to make things as easy on Court as I could, even though I knew she was still going to give her all from the other end of the line. But I thought, "If I can just get her up this mountain as quickly as possible, the sooner we can be finished and she can rest." So up and over the mountain Court dry heaved the entire way. She was a champ. She never once complained or made negative comments. I just tried to be patient and supportive. Finishing for her that day was a huge challenge, but she never wanted to quit. We were both determined to finish what we started. We finished the 14 mile course in 3:45, probably about an hour longer than we would have taken otherwise. Needless to say, we were not in the mood for tacos or margaritas at the finish. Despite this, we actually moved into 4th place overall in the standings, due to a team ahead of us having to drop out with an injury. The race was turning into a war of attrition.
I did everything I could the rest of the day to nurse Courtney back to health. By evening she seemed to mostly recovered from whatever bug had ransacked her digestion that morning. Arriving in downtown Red Cliff for Stage 5 I felt optimistic that things were turning around for our team. We were buoyed up by Court's lovely family, who greeted us at the start line. We left Red Cliff at a very easy pace. After a few miles I was still at a "1," so I offered to tow Court, who was obviously working much harder. I towed for less than a mile before Court said "Shau, I don't think I can do this today," and un-hooked herself. For a second I thought she meant do the stage, and my heart sank, but I quickly realized she just couldn't get towed. Even with the assistance, she just couldn't hold the pace. It seemed that although she felt better, she was now experiencing post-sickness hangover. So we walked. And walked. For the first couple hours we didn't talk, except every 15 minutes when I reminded Court to take her salt. I wasn't angry, or wishing for another teammate, but the competitive side of me was just aching. Here we were, sitting in fourth place overall, while the competition just ran away from us. I wanted to run so badly. Even to tow Court. But I knew she was giving everything she had just to put one foot in front of the other. Up through the back bowls of Vail to the top of the mountain. I ran ahead a few times just to feel like we were still racing. But then I would go back and meet Court. It was an exercise in patience, a virtue I have been told more than once I am lacking. But I never once said or even thought one mean thing. I was still happy to be out there with my best friend. One thing that kept me going was the goals that we set for ourselves for the race, in order of priority: 1) Have fun 2) Finish 3) Race. By the time we made it to the top of Vail Mountain, I had forgotten all thoughts of a race lost. We were just two friends out for run (walk) in the mountains. I told Court stories, sang her every show tune in could think of, pretended to be Julie Andrew leaping down the mountain singing "the hills are alive." So we walked our way right into Vail Village. In our hearts, we knew we had won that day. I set a new personal record: the farthest distance walked (22 miles) and longest workout ever (6 hours, 40 minutes).
We were greeted at the finish by Bob, Court's pa, who had worried about us for 2 and half hours waiting at the finish. Both our hands, but especially Court's, as well as her feet, were swollen from walking for so long. We quickly cashed in a well-deserved soak in Gore Creek, and then got back to camp in time to enjoy an amazing dinner complete with grilled portabello mushrooms, corn on the cob, grilled steak and chicken, and Greek deserts. We were in heaven. At the nightly awards ceremony, Courtney got special recognition for her accomplishments as a CF patient. The whole Robinson clan was present to witness and it was a really special night.
We had one more day left, and although I was proud of our teamwork on Stage 5, I wasn't sure I would be able to be positive for 6+ more hours of the same pace. But I couldn't stand the thought of breaking up our team after we had come so far together. I was completely torn. So a very appealing compromise was reached: Courtney would walk with her friend Kelli from the race crew, while I would run with another group of orphan team members, but upon reaching Beaver Creek, without crossing the finish line, I would turn around and meet up with Court so we could finish together.
Friday morning, I woke up with mixed emotions: one was fatigue, obviously, another was pride, knowing how far we had come, another was sadness, knowing that this very special experience would be over soon, and another was excitement to run. I met Court at the start wearing the gold headbands we had worn every day of the race. We did our morning warm up routine, took pictures, did some fist pumping to ACDC's "Highway to Vail" (you know it?), and we were off! Court and I quickly split up, but, as I said when we were training 1,000 miles apart all summer, "I'll be sweating with you in spirit!"
Not much to say about my run. I took it out at a moderate pace and picked it up throughout. It wasn't the same without my teammate; it just meant less. By the time I reached Beaver Creek I had gotten my fill of going hard and peeled off just before the finishing shoot to change my shoes and get a snack before I turned around and went back. I called Court en route to get her coordinates (it's Beaver Creek, after all, you get cell service everywhere). I somehow got off course, and trying to find my way back, just caught a glimpse of Court descending the mountain below me. I came bounding down the ski run hollering at the top of my lungs. It was a joyous last stretch of the run. We were relieved, proud, sad, exhausted, and exhilarated, all at once. We ran into Beaver Creek and crossed the finish line as we did everyday: holding hands, arms raised, big smiles.
(see pictures from the previous post)
On Saturday, August 21st, as we made the drive down to Buena Vista from Avon, I caught glimpses of the mountains and valleys that Court and I were only a few short days away from running across. As I lay spooning with Henry the yellow lab, wedged between sleeping bags and a physioball, on top of a massage table in the back of a VW bus, I thought about the months that had passed since Courtney had first talked me into doing this crazy race. The idea had been marinating in my mind since the conclusion of TransRockies 2009, where I worked for the Salomon crew and first fell in love with the event. It was here that Courtney and I got the invitation from Gui at Salomon to run. At the time, Courtney jumped at the chance, while I was much more hesitant. I thought, "Me? Never! It wouldn't be good for my ski training, I'll get injured, I'm not trained for such a thing . . ." But the idea stuck in my head. As enamored with the idea as I was, I just thought it too impractical. But Courtney persisted, and gradually my resistance gave way to thoughts of, "This is a once-in-lifetime opportunity. . . I can't just put off everything I want to do because of my ski career . . . Maybe it would be a good summer training goal . . . Why the heck not?" Finally, at the end of March, I was feeling bold and feeling the need for some adventure, so I agreed.
Beginning of May, I hit the summer ski training season with my usual vigor, but this year I had the added motivation of needing to get in shape for running back-to-back-to-back (x2) OD runs. Running over-distance is nothing new to me. It has been a part of my ski training for years. Every Sunday for the past, oh, 7 years, I have hit the trails for 2 to 5 hours. It has become a ritual for me; my church. This year, in order to get ready for TRR, I laid on the running extra thick, adding weekly threshold intervals, occasional uphill treadmill intervals, and even some downhill workouts.
The months I had to prepare for TransRockies, which once seemed like an eternity, went by in a flash, and then I found myself nuzzled up against a giant yellow beast, less than 24 hours away from crossing that start line. For Courtney and I, the race would be like running home for us. I had been staying at her house in Avon, just downhill from the final finish line in Beaver Creek, for the previous week. Spending substantial time with her for the first time since college had quickly revitalized our friendship, and reminded us of why were such a good pair. This all put the race in an interesting perspective: we were making a 75 mile drive south-east to get dropped off and run then all the way home, not via the direct route. At the end of the trail waited all the comforts I had enjoyed for the past week: a warm familiar bed, family, and friends.
We arrived in Buena Vista and the fun shortly commenced. We checked in for the race and got loaded down with duffle bags filled with swag, we enjoyed many excited reunions with TransRockies staff, racers from last year, and Salomon team members, we ate dinner, and then it was off the the hotel to make final preparations. I had quite the time trying to sort all my gear for the week and pack it into the race-issue duffle ("All this stuff? It's just running!"). Courtney and I were both feeling pre-race jitters as we talked over strategy for the first stage, but we finally had done everything we thought we could, and were ready to get a good night sleep.
The next morning I found myself in the starting corral, heart pumping, as I went through a final mental checklist: body glide? (check), water? (check), Gu's? (check), Salt Stick? (check), sunglass, sunscreen, visor, heart rate monitor, race number, timing chip? (check and double check). Sanity? Um . . . BANG! too late now! And we were off! Me and my best friend, about to do something neither of us had ever imagined we could. And all it would take was one step at a time.
The first stage rolled through dessert terrain as the sun rose in the sky. The plan was to take the pace out very steady and hopefully pick up the intensity through the week. Court and I trotted along, took pictures on the move, sang songs, made up some of our own songs, chatted with other teams. We both felt good, but stayed focused on hydrating and taking electrolytes.
For Courtney, this was especially important, as she has cystic fibrosis, although most people would hardly notice. Years ago, most CF patients died before elementary school, but these days treatment allows patients to live much longer and healthier lives. We had to take many precautions in order for Courtney to do this race, and she was under close medical supervision throughout. One precaution was to be on a strict regiment of salt intake, because the mutated sodium transporter protein that is the root of CF causes a person to sweat out all of the body's salts. I would remind Courtney every 15 minutes to take a salt pill, whereas I was only taking a salt every 30-60 minutes.
As we neared the finish of the 20 mile stage, the sun was high in the sky and we turned onto a wide-open straight dirt road. The heat was sweltering and Court could feel it. You could see a line of salt, like a solvent front on chromatography paper, from her dried sweat forming on her compression calves. I felt much stronger, and knew I was a better runner on the flats (hey, I'm from Minnesota, it's what I know best). So we got out our tow line for the first time and I hauled at a nice steady pace. The flat, straight finish was a bit brutal, but we finished strong and quickly plunged into the ice cold waters of the Arkansas River. I didn't even try to comprehend that 5 equally challenging stages lay directly ahead of us: I just relished the fact that today's stage was the farthest I'd ever raced. Our team finished 6th on the day.
Back at camp, we did everything we could to recover. We stretched, hydrated, got massages, ate, put our feet up. Courtney got her two bags of saline in the med RV, which were doctor's orders as part of allowing her to do this race. That night, despite camping within 100 square yards of 300 other racers, I slept like a rock.
Bright and early the next day we were at it again. This stage was "the" climbing stage. Although every stage featured at least 3,000 feet of climbing, this one was short and steep, making its profile look like the tip of a pencil. We were going to ascend and descend Hope Pass, a starkly misleading name, taking us up 3,000 feet in roughly 3 miles, so Court and I brought along our ski walking poles. Once we hit the climb, we both put our heads down and settled into a rhythm. We didn't talk much, just to ask "What are you?" to which the other would reply with 1 through 5, indicating how hard it felt. We agreed to keep the effort at 2 or 3 (1 being easy, 5 being max effort), wanting to make sure we were setting a good pace from the very beginning. We passed other teams, got some comments about our poles and the unfair advantage skiers have, and grunted and panted our way to the top. We didn't even stop, but I glanced back, trying to savor the spectacular view. We descended with good speed, rolled along the edge of the twin lakes, and finished very strong, 5th in the open women.
Day 3 was the "long" stage of the race, although at 24 miles it was hardly any longer than the second or third longest days. Nonetheless, we approached the stage with due caution. We camped the night at 10,000 feet in Leadville and strode out of town at 8 AM the next morning. We simply ran nice and steady, trying to conserve something for the last 60 miles of the race. We ran over the continental divide and entered Eagle Country; we knew we were getting closer to home! Stage 3 is best known for its long, flat finish. With about 5 miles to go in the stage, you run along a vista from which you can actually see the finish at Camp Hale. You then drop down to the valley floor and run 3 miles on a dirt road to the finish. On this particular day, we snuck up on the 4th place team with 8 miles to go. They suddenly picked up the pace when they saw us and made a gap. I felt good due to the conservative pace, so I hooked Courtney up to the tow line and pulled up the climbs on the rolling terrain. We got down to the valley floor and 4th place was still in sight. I was feeling competitive (like usual) and asked Court if she would indulge my ego and come along for the ride. So I pulled the last 3 miles with all my might, Court giving everything she had, as well. We gradually made ground on the team until maybe 3/4 mile to go, when they turned back while walking and suddenly started running. Darn, they saw us coming! They held the same pace as us and maintained their lead, but it was a great effort on our part, and we were both happy we went for it. Needless to say, the rest of the day was spent on some very focused recovery. And we moved into 5th place overall!
Day 4 was one that I was looking forward to, as it had some of the best views, and it was also the only stage I had run previously. It was a simple 14 mile climb and descent from Camp Hale to Red Cliff, where margaritas and fish tacos waited at Mango's. But the stage turned out not to be such a walk in the park. Standing in the starting pen Court confessed: "I'm not feeling so well Shau" (that's me). I just told her we could play things by ear, and to let me know how she felt. Right away things took a turn for the worst. We jogged easy out of the start, but soon had to walk. And then Court pulled over and dry heaved. She didn't throw up, so we continued to walk and jog across the rolling section before the climb. I felt fantastic, even after our hard effort the day before, but I wasn't in a hurry, I knew there were plenty of miles left to hammer. We got to the start of the climb and I hooked Court up to the tow line immediately. Like on Stage 2, I just put my head down and got into a grind, nordic poles and all. Unlike Stage 2, however, I didn't ask Court "What are you at?" I already knew she felt awful. So I just pulled as hard as I could. We passed teams on the climb that we would have normally chatted with, but all I could muster today was a faint smile, while Court starred straight ahead, trying to maintain her composure. Every 5 to 10 minutes she would ask to stop and pull over to dry heave. Teams would pass by feeling sorry for us, while I stood by and rubbed her back. Then we would keep going and repass those teams. The only upside to this entire situation was that I was very happy with the fitness I was proving to possess. I pulled the entire climb with the bungee line maxed out at a pace I know I couldn't have held a year ago. All I wanted to do was get our team to the finish that day. I wanted to make things as easy on Court as I could, even though I knew she was still going to give her all from the other end of the line. But I thought, "If I can just get her up this mountain as quickly as possible, the sooner we can be finished and she can rest." So up and over the mountain Court dry heaved the entire way. She was a champ. She never once complained or made negative comments. I just tried to be patient and supportive. Finishing for her that day was a huge challenge, but she never wanted to quit. We were both determined to finish what we started. We finished the 14 mile course in 3:45, probably about an hour longer than we would have taken otherwise. Needless to say, we were not in the mood for tacos or margaritas at the finish. Despite this, we actually moved into 4th place overall in the standings, due to a team ahead of us having to drop out with an injury. The race was turning into a war of attrition.
I did everything I could the rest of the day to nurse Courtney back to health. By evening she seemed to mostly recovered from whatever bug had ransacked her digestion that morning. Arriving in downtown Red Cliff for Stage 5 I felt optimistic that things were turning around for our team. We were buoyed up by Court's lovely family, who greeted us at the start line. We left Red Cliff at a very easy pace. After a few miles I was still at a "1," so I offered to tow Court, who was obviously working much harder. I towed for less than a mile before Court said "Shau, I don't think I can do this today," and un-hooked herself. For a second I thought she meant do the stage, and my heart sank, but I quickly realized she just couldn't get towed. Even with the assistance, she just couldn't hold the pace. It seemed that although she felt better, she was now experiencing post-sickness hangover. So we walked. And walked. For the first couple hours we didn't talk, except every 15 minutes when I reminded Court to take her salt. I wasn't angry, or wishing for another teammate, but the competitive side of me was just aching. Here we were, sitting in fourth place overall, while the competition just ran away from us. I wanted to run so badly. Even to tow Court. But I knew she was giving everything she had just to put one foot in front of the other. Up through the back bowls of Vail to the top of the mountain. I ran ahead a few times just to feel like we were still racing. But then I would go back and meet Court. It was an exercise in patience, a virtue I have been told more than once I am lacking. But I never once said or even thought one mean thing. I was still happy to be out there with my best friend. One thing that kept me going was the goals that we set for ourselves for the race, in order of priority: 1) Have fun 2) Finish 3) Race. By the time we made it to the top of Vail Mountain, I had forgotten all thoughts of a race lost. We were just two friends out for run (walk) in the mountains. I told Court stories, sang her every show tune in could think of, pretended to be Julie Andrew leaping down the mountain singing "the hills are alive." So we walked our way right into Vail Village. In our hearts, we knew we had won that day. I set a new personal record: the farthest distance walked (22 miles) and longest workout ever (6 hours, 40 minutes).
We were greeted at the finish by Bob, Court's pa, who had worried about us for 2 and half hours waiting at the finish. Both our hands, but especially Court's, as well as her feet, were swollen from walking for so long. We quickly cashed in a well-deserved soak in Gore Creek, and then got back to camp in time to enjoy an amazing dinner complete with grilled portabello mushrooms, corn on the cob, grilled steak and chicken, and Greek deserts. We were in heaven. At the nightly awards ceremony, Courtney got special recognition for her accomplishments as a CF patient. The whole Robinson clan was present to witness and it was a really special night.
We had one more day left, and although I was proud of our teamwork on Stage 5, I wasn't sure I would be able to be positive for 6+ more hours of the same pace. But I couldn't stand the thought of breaking up our team after we had come so far together. I was completely torn. So a very appealing compromise was reached: Courtney would walk with her friend Kelli from the race crew, while I would run with another group of orphan team members, but upon reaching Beaver Creek, without crossing the finish line, I would turn around and meet up with Court so we could finish together.
Friday morning, I woke up with mixed emotions: one was fatigue, obviously, another was pride, knowing how far we had come, another was sadness, knowing that this very special experience would be over soon, and another was excitement to run. I met Court at the start wearing the gold headbands we had worn every day of the race. We did our morning warm up routine, took pictures, did some fist pumping to ACDC's "Highway to Vail" (you know it?), and we were off! Court and I quickly split up, but, as I said when we were training 1,000 miles apart all summer, "I'll be sweating with you in spirit!"
Not much to say about my run. I took it out at a moderate pace and picked it up throughout. It wasn't the same without my teammate; it just meant less. By the time I reached Beaver Creek I had gotten my fill of going hard and peeled off just before the finishing shoot to change my shoes and get a snack before I turned around and went back. I called Court en route to get her coordinates (it's Beaver Creek, after all, you get cell service everywhere). I somehow got off course, and trying to find my way back, just caught a glimpse of Court descending the mountain below me. I came bounding down the ski run hollering at the top of my lungs. It was a joyous last stretch of the run. We were relieved, proud, sad, exhausted, and exhilarated, all at once. We ran into Beaver Creek and crossed the finish line as we did everyday: holding hands, arms raised, big smiles.
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