Peak Snowshoe Race

This was my first Peak race and my first snowshoe race, but having visited Pittsfield numerous times, drank to silliness with the RD at Sherpa’s wedding, and hanging with Team Robert, I felt like an old pro.  I knew, or at least knew OF, almost a dozen other folks at the starting line.

The night before we had convinced (see: roped, connived, contrived, manipulated) Sherpa into staying the night in our cozy dwellings generously offered by the Strongs while they were in Mexico and doing at least one more loop with us.  I was the only one signed up for the 6.5 mile "fun run" while My Runner, Taps, and Puma were all signed up for the marathon.  My Runner's Pops and Bro showed in time for registration and signed up for the half-marathon.  We had a great Team Robert showing.

The next morning came early for me.  I'm slow to get ready.  I have my pace, and I can't seem to step it up.  So rather than keep people waiting I set my alarm 15 min earlier than everyone else.  This seems to have worked as I had all my gear prepped, including shit I had forgotten the night before, I was dressed, washed, packed, "bathroomed," and heat-warmered by the time we had planned to leave.

We packed in to two cars and started the 5 minute commute to downtown Pittsfield to pick up our registration.  We met Pop and Bro Robert while at the general store picking up our numbers.  I was happy to see them as we thought they might not show till well after the start (Pops is a volunteer firefighter and his hours are wonky).  Sherpa, already registered for his 100 mile race that started the day before at noon, chatted up the other runners eating breakfast.  He's a Peak veteran, and a major proponent of their work.

We head to the start with So. Much. Time. to kill.  I'm going crazy.  I kina hafta pee, but I'm not willing to leave the start line with less than 10 minutes to go.  This will come back to haunt me. 

Sherpa tells me he's gonna drag me up the mountain.  After hearing the trail is 4 miles up 2 miles down, I believe him.  I remember climbing this mountain at the Holidays are Over Party weekend- it's effing STEEP.  And other than kickboxing and hockey my training has been... wait, what's training again?  We vaguely hear Andy the RD tell us to line up, and I move to the back.  There are a TON of college aged kids in costumes.  I'm way too envious of the chick in silver leggings, a pink tank tunic, and an even pinker fishnet overshirt.  It looks like something my Gem doll wore.  She's ten years younger than me.  I picture how I’d look in that getup and I feel old.  (Later I pass her skinny slow ass while she's gasping and I feel inordinately superior.  Funny how that works.)

The course isn't easy.  I recognize the first few miles, but I'm moving slow.  The whole of team Robert is ahead of me: My runner, Pops, Bro, and Taps are moving in a group with a few ultra vets.  Puma and I leap frog up a few hills, but Sherpa is way back, hanging with folks he hasn't talked to and nursing wounds and pains from the marathon he ran night before.  I pause on "The Stairs" (a switch back trail that snakes up the side of the mountain) for a while waiting for Sherpa.  I finally saw him, but was getting chilled and was unwilling to wait.  Figured he was so much stronger than me that he would overtake me on the many climbs ahead.

The climbs were *tough*; I felt weak.  Still, I was having fun watching all the college aged kids around me in their groups having fun and encouraging each other.  What a great moment.  I came to a portion of the trail with some lookouts over other peaks and valleys of the area.  It was LOVELY and I wish I had a camera though it would not pick up the beauty.  I decided to real in Puma to pick up the pace.

And catch her I do.  Not without some effort, mind you.  I could see her on the switch backs and called out to her.  I could even see the Robert boys, though I knew that catching up to them would be a) unlikely, b)super draining, and c) useless as they were having guy-time and I would be an interloper.  I enjoyed my friendly hunt of Puma, who kept me moving hard even when I caught up to her.   We summit together, having seen Taps and My Runner coming down off the peak on the trail.  Pops and Bro are still there, and Puma takes off with them.  I wait for Sherpa.

Hanging out at the summit with the other runners and aid station volunteers, I am *desperately* searching for a place to pee.  The woods around the trails are pretty sparse, and I’m way to pee-shy to walk a foot off trail and drop trou.  The summit’s a clearing (lucky me) and of course no one was gonna drag a porta john up with a snowmobile.  There’s a small hut/cabin, and I take my chances, crouch behind it, and do whatcha do.  Ah the fun of outdoor sports.

Sherpa finally summits and in full Sherpa form.  He's the man everyone wants to talk to.  I get tired of waiting for him to quit socializing... and now I’m dragging HIM down the trail.  We WALK down hill... and walk, and walk... selfishly?  I start running, throwing a challenge to the Sherpa.  The run feels good for me, but I know Sherpa’s hurting. We walk and talk the rest of the way, others occasionally joining our conversation.  We had come to the mountain last night urging Sherpa to "come out with us for one more loop" and this was the only time any of us traveled with him.  Sherpa, and so many others, have given their time to me, running my race with me, for the pure pleasure of running with someone whose company you enjoy.  It was nice to finally return the favor.  

We get back to base in I don’t know how much time.  I mostly don’t care.  This was about the experience, not the time.  My Runner and Taps are back out on the course, Pops and Bro head out for their second of two laps.  Puma attempted another, but her shoes have torn up her feet and it's not possible.

Sherpa takes off before the Robert team comes back. He just misses My Runner and Taps coming off their second lap.  They're in good spirits and feeling great and I'm happy for them as they set out on lap 3.  It's a bit more before Bro comes loping off the trail.  At 15 he's got that gangly-horse look where he's all limbs and big feet and hands, but a baby face.  He comes in relatively easily- a testament to the Robert genes and his swim training, grabs some food and sits on a snow bank.  When I asked where Pops was, he stated, "I dunno... I left him. Maybe half an hour?"   Pops came in, as usual entertaining a group of runners with only slightly exaggerated stories, about 45 minutes later.  He seemed in good spirits, and that's all we are here for.

Pops, having worked the night before, decided to head out while he was still awake enough to drive.  The boys are maybe 2/3 up the mountain when it starts to rain.  We predict this may be the last lap, if the rain stays steady, but the weather refuses to be predictable: sleet, sun, clouds, wind, and more rain occur in the next hour and a half.

I look over the times while waiting for My Runner and Taps to come in.  I see that I’m 4^th out of 4 in my age group, and note that the 1^st place in the age group was only 20 minutes ahead of me.  I note with some satisfaction that if I had run this like a RACE, I would have won my age group.

The boys come in after third lap and eventually call it.  Happy with their experience, we all head home for showers then a trip to Long Trail where we celebrate our achievements.  Could I have run longer and suffered more?  Yes.  Did I want to?  No.  And I’m happy with my choice.

Bear Brook Fat Ass, January 29th, 2011

About Christmas time Dad let me know that he and his girlfriend L were going to be vacationing in the White Mountains the last week in January, and could they stop by and stay over on their way home?  This invited the idea of planning a "Fat Ass" event: a run (generally) with no aid stations, a group of crazy folks, and beer at the end.  I had initially planned on a 29K- about 18 miles total- in Bear Brook State Park.  I've never run this distance, plus it's the middle of winter and training time is sparse... this was gonna be a challenge to complete, never mind plan.

With all the snow we've had there was no way we were running without at least some serious traction.  I ended up suggesting snow shoes or cross country skis to anyone partaking.  I downloaded a map of Bear Brook's trails, read the descriptions of each one, coded them for difficulty, and mapped out a route with two "peaks" and plenty of rolling terrain.  Since snowshoeing is more taxing than "mere" running, I downgraded the distance.  The large loop measured a bit more than 9 miles according to the map scale, with three bail-out points between 5 and 6 miles.

Planned route at Bear Brook State Park

Know me and you know that I take my "planner" responsibilities pretty seriously.  I was worried no one would show up.  Then I was worried a lot of people would show up and they'd hate it.  I worried that I forgot something crucial.  The morning of the event came and I knew at least 7 people were coming out to play in the woods and at least 5 were coming back to eat at my place after.  My head swam with logistics about feeding people, ensuring my house guests were comfortable, packing proper food and hydration.

My Runner and Sherpa had met at 6:15am that morning to start on the trails and gain some extra mileage in anticipation of the Peak Snow Shoe Race in March.  Their pre-surveillance of the trails, as well as Sherpa's familiarity with BBSP, turned out to be very helpful.

So, I forgot the map.  Obviously.  Though it turns out I didn't even have the correct one- I had the Summer Trail Map that didn't show which trails were groomed for snowmobiles and what trails we'd have to break.  Luckily Sherpa came prepared (at least the tens of thousands of tuition dollars paid for SOMETHING... saving my ass!) with 6 copies of the winter trail maps. 

Next surprise- Dad and L had one pair of snow shoes between them.  Snow shoes that were likely made by Inuits at least 10 years before I was born.  Seriously, these things shoulda been in a museum.  After learning how groomed the trails were, I suggested they both wear their x-country skis.  L was still gaining confidence in her skis, and Sherpa re-assured her that she could handle the terrain. 

The group heading out from the parking area

Ten people and a doggie set out from the parking lot (which was NOT the lot I had planned on starting from- the gates to THAT lot were closed despite what I had been told by park staff).  The weather was warm: about 25* at 10am.  Spirits were high, and we were all chatting and having a grand time.  I felt great, despite being tired and having forgotten the map.

The first turn came to go up Bear Hill and the trail was steep and ungroomed.  A decision was made that the cross-country skiers, Dad and L, the two "novice" snow shoers G and J, and the doggie would go off on their own.  The rest of us would "catch up" (yeah right).  We didn't see Dad and L again until the parking lot. 

Gazelle, Sherpa, me, Taps, Puma, and photog My Runner

My Runner, Sherpa, Puma, Gazelle, Taps, and myself broke trail up the slope.  The trail on the map appeared to be no more than a quarter mile, but the sign at the trail head stated 1.2 miles to the summit (the first in MANY signs that this day would be longer than expected).  We all worked hard breaking the trail taking turns in the lead until we reached the summit.  About a tenth of a mile from the top we saw the quarter mile summit trail that was the PLANNED route... whoops.  We used it as a return route and began down the groomed Podunk Road.  (Seriously.  Podunk.  I *wish* I could make this shit up.)

The snowmobilers were out in droves.  I knew Bear Brook was popular for snow mobiles, but we spent a quarter of the time hunkered by the side of the groomed road choking on fumes.  The positive- at least half of them were polite and shared the roads with us. 

It wasn't long- ok, it WAS long, but we weren't far into my planned hike when I leaned over to Taps who has a fancy-schmancy GPS watch and said, "How long we been out here?"
"About two hours."
"And... how far have we gone?"
"5.3 miles."
"Shit.  Sherpa, lemme see that map...."

Taps and me on the trails

We were about a third of the way into the "9 mile" loop, and still quite a distance from the bail out points.  I was feeling great, but Gazel had only snowshoed about 4 times this year, and Puma was nursing an injury and coming back from time off.  We weren't going super fast, but I realized there was no way this was gonna be short for anyone.  I confided in Sherpa, who looked at me knowingly.  "I didn't know how to tell you without stepping on your toes..."  Whelp, in for a penny in for a pound today.  Shit, in for a penny in for a kilo and a bonus pack.

Gazelle, Puma, and Sherpa

My Runner giving me a (deserved) long-suffering look

Ultimately we were on the trail for about 5 hours and 11.5 miles.  Dad and L arrived at the parking lot an hour and change before us, and gallantly picked up beer for everyone.  At the mention of beer, Gazelle, true to her name, sprang ahead, eager to take of her snow shoes and relax.

Gazelle waiting impatiently for us to catch up, Sherpa with his trademark Shit-Eating-Grin

I felt GREAT at the end of 11.5 miles.  Puma was hurting, but in good spirits once her shoes were off.  Taps was still bouncing off the walls- that guy has ENDLESS energy.  Sherpa seemed to have a great time, but headed home early (poor guy can't have beer now anyways...).  My Runner had angered his achillies after 18+ miles of snowshoeing in boots not really made for hiking or outdoor sports.

Dad, L, Taps, Puma, My Runner, and I retired back to my place for salty snacks and crock-pot fajitas.  The beer flowed, we chatted about hiking, races and runs past and future, and much more.  Fred got some cuddle love.  I started to fade around 6:30, kicked out the guests, had one last beer with Dad, then excused myself and slept, SOUNDLY, for 10 hours.

I made many "mistakes" with this first Fat Ass.  I'm still not sure what happened with the map scale, and I really should have scouted at least the parking area.  While I understand the decision to break up the group, I was bummed I didn't spend more time with Dad on the trails.  However I was very happy snow shoeing ELEVEN MILES!  And luckily my mistakes didn't result in any serious injuries or illnesses.  Best of all, I got to explore an amazing park that's about twenty minutes from my apartment.

It'll be a while before I plan a Fat Ass again, but when I do I hope to at least not make the same mistakes twice.