The Great Ski Race 2010

Last Sunday, I joined over 1,000 other enthusiastic skiers for a North Tahoe tradition: The Great Ski Race. This 30K course travels from Tahoe City to Truckee, and provides a venue for everyone from elite racers to beer-drinking party-goers. My day involved reconnecting with friends, heart-pumping hill climbing, cautious descents, and, of course, a few good crashes.

View of the starting area from wave 4

The forecast had been for cloudy skies and a chance of mixed rain and snow. Not exactly good news for a fair-weather skate-skier like me. What we got was yet another blue-bird Tahoe day. It was cold enough at the start for some fast conditions, but warmed up to make things a little mushy by the end. (I guess the key here is to ski faster and you'll get good conditions the whole way!)

Susie is ready to start!

In addition to attracting talented skiers from all over the country, this race is one of those community events where I feel like I see every local I know: neighbors, friends, co-workers, students. It makes for an enjoyable day, and helps me remember that my goal here is fun, not competition.

The race starts in six different waves. You're assigned to a wave based on your previous finishing time at this race. (If you're a first timer, you have to start in the back.) The fast kids take off first, and each wave has progressively slower skiers until you get to what they call the "party wave." I ended up in my standard wave 4 - somewhere between the real racers and the partiers.

Racers start with their skis in the groomed tracks, and when that wave starts it's double-polling only (no skating) until you get a couple hundred yards out where the tracks end. Then, it's skate like mad through the wide stretch to try to get ahead of as many people as possible before the inevitable bottle-neck that occurs almost immediately. Since I always get my butt kicked at this race I don't take it too seriously. Thus, I always find this mayhem at the start to be terribly fun!

Soup station #1, at the top of the pass

It's crazy to me that the race never really seems to thin out as much as I'd like. For the entire first 10K it seems like I'm knocking skis with people. This isn't a big deal, until you get a klutz like me tangling you up enough to cause a crash.

Aside from the glaring disadvantage that I have ghastly skating technique, this course works well for me mentally. The first 10K is all uphill, which is, of course, where I excel. I pass folks like mad all the way up. By the time I reach the top, all the hard stuff is over with, and I still get 20K of trail to enjoy.

The next 10K is downhill, and the last 10K is rolling. This, of course, is where everyone I passed on the way up kicks my spineless, fraidy-cat, I-suck-at-downhills booty. But the scenery is awesome!

Here's an extremely short clip of the trail. I had a rather tenuous grip on my camera, and knew I was risking a fall by trying to hold a camera and ski pole at the same time, so the footage is sub-par to say the least, but it gives you a little idea of the trail, anyway.





A race like this is a perfect way for me to start the season. It's a killer workout, and a huge exercise in humility. For twenty kilometers I am passed by little girls and old men alike. I was passed at about the 15K mark by a former colleague of mine who is a great skier. I couldn't figure out why she was even behind me in the first place, until I realized she was just pacing her daughter. And I'm not sure, but based on size, her daughter couldn't have been much older that eight. They beat me by 14 minutes.

View on the descent

I had a few good crashes on some of the steeper downhills, but nothing too painful. I actually couldn't help but laugh as I looked both up and down the trail to see skiers everywhere, sprawled pell-mell about the trail, those who remained upright trying to navigate the human obstacle course. Such good fun!

The finish of the race consists of a portion that I like to call "The Ice Luge." After your muscles are quivering from the exhaustion of navigating 30K, the skier is required to negotiate a series of narrow, steep, hairpin turns. If you're like me, about 500 skiers have already come through to scrape the top layers of snow off, and you're left with a scooped-out track of ice. Slowing down? Forget about it. It's so terrifying for me that I always find myself laughing through the whole thing.

Way back up there at the top is the end of the "Ice Luge" section. Notice skiers are still braking hard toward the finish line.

Once you survive that, you pop out onto the wider, downhill stretch across the finish line. This part is much easier because it's wide enough to make turns and slow down. Of course, many skiers think they're home-free and carelessly get up enough speed for an exciting crash. Spectators always have a good time at the finish of this event!

Many skiers come across the line with their feet in the air. Oops.

Thanks to Tahoe Nordic SAR for putting on another great year at The Great Race!

Sunday Skate Ski

Today, I took the opportunity for some of my favorite winter cross-training: skate skiing! Skate-skiing could quite possibly be my perfect sport, if only I were more coordinated. (It seems to require something which we ultrarunners frequently know little about: grace.) Skate skiing combines my favorite part of telemark skiing (a little gravity-aided speed in an amazing setting) with a favorite part of running (a serious aerobic workout).

This morning's adventure suffered from a few false starts, the worst of which had me arriving at Royal Gorge XC resort only to discover that I'd left my boots at home. Doh! I wasn't about to make the 20 minute drive again, so I headed home, grabbed my boots (which were sitting out on the driveway!) and headed to Tahoe Donner--a smaller resort, but closer to home, and with plenty of trails to satisfy a slightly out-of-shape runner such as myself.

I decided to make the trek up to Hawk's Peak, the highest point at the resort. After about ten minutes, I had left all of the tourists in the flats, and settled into the long, steady climb. There is little more brutal than skiing uphill, and I was quickly stripped down to my t-shirt, huffing and puffing. Up, up and up, the trail went. The sun shone brilliantly, and the snow sparkled blindingly back at me.

Eventually I reached the summit, and, as with most of my day, there wasn't a soul around. The wind up there was brisk, and I quickly donned my jacket while I took in the view. All the morning's frustrations with just getting my skis on and starting my workout completely melted away. I slowly, deliciously absorbed all of the 360-degrees of beauty before me, grinning ear to ear. I found myself wondering about the fact that so many people spend this morning indoors, in a house of worship. I don't mean to judge those who make that choice. Certainly not! It's just that, for me, if there is a god, then this is surely where she and I converse.

The trail climbs steadily upward.

Someone left a message for me at the side of the trail! It was a peaceful day, indeed.

In the distant background, you can see my destination: Hawk's Peak.

View from the summit: Anderson Ridge.

View from the summit.

Red-faced, tired and happy at the summit.

View from the summit: Castle Peak

On Birthdays and Snowdays

The Palisade Burrow, Monday morning

I'll admit it it upfront: I'm a birthday grinch. I'm certain it's a manifestation of my age, but I'd just as soon have the day pass completely unnoticed. Birthday? What birthday? I'm so not getting older. I still need to run 3:40 to qualify for Boston...I swear. (And I did so 4 times this year, so there, BAA!) Self-pity is terribly unattractive, so I'll not expound on my feelings about aging. Let's just say that I think birthday's are for kids.

It's with this attitude that I have allowed the last several birthdays slip by largely unnoticed by anyone but my family (who are welcome to acknowledge it with singing, cake, and large gifts, of course). At my new school, no such luxury was allowed. Elementary schools are all about birthdays. I had to report my birthday to at least a dozen people in the first week of classes. Why do they care? The kid's birthdays I can understand, but mine? I just don't get it.

Then, the week before the big, dreaded event, my students started talking about it.

"Ms. Brugman, your birthday's next week!" came the squeals.

How do they know this?

"I have it written in my homework planner, see?" (Homework planner is offered up for inspection.)

Oh God.

My husband also spent the day before pestering me, because he thinks it's terribly funny that I hate my birthday. (That's what I get for marrying a younger man, I guess.) He even set the alarm for midnight in a secret plot to wake me up and wish me happy birthday during the first minute of the day. Fortunately I noticed it after he fell asleep and foiled his devilish scheme.

Anyway, the day turned out to be pretty darn good, and I have, in large part, my students to thank. Did I mention that birthday's are for kids? Maybe that's because they know how to bring the proper enthusiasm to the task. Or maybe it's just because they're so genuinely excited about birthdays that it's hard to get mad at them for it. They planned, and executed, a surprise party for me of amazing proportions. Frankly, I was blown away. They decorated the multi-purpose room, set it up with pizzza and cupcakes, plates, balloons, presents, juice boxes -- everything a good birthday needs. They led me in there blind-folded and full of giggles (them and me) and instead of feeling slightly irritated like a good grinch should, I cried.

I am truly grateful for all of the people who love me in this world, and I know there are many of them. I got some incredibly thoughtful gifts and wishes. But there is something pretty special about being loved by kids. (Like when my nephews, ages 3 and 5, sing "Happy Birthday" into the answering machine...so cute!) The fact that a group of 10 and 11-year-olds pulled off such a feat of organization with no adult leadership whatsoever is a sure sign of love in my book.

For the weekend, I had planned my own birthday present of sorts to myself. This involved driving down to Sacramento Friday night to see my favorite band with good friends, driving home Saturday to see the same band again in Tahoe with more good friends, then leaving at 4:30 am Sunday morning (after about 3 hours of sleep) to return to Sacramento and run CIM. Crazy? Not so much. It was an amazing weekend with epic music, booty-shakin' dancing, falling in love with a new artist (Kate Gaffney rocks!) a stolen car, not a single glance at the WS lottery results, a freezing cold (and fairly slow) run through Sac, 3 amazing cups of hot chocolate, Christmas shopping, donating 13 inches of red hair to locks of love, and a 4-and-a-half hour drive up I-80 through a frigid storm.

I didn't arrive home until 6:00 Sunday night, and after all that, I blew off my school work in favor of a glass of wine and an early bed time. I was blessed Monday morning with the best gift yet - a snow day. (Dear God, I am so sorry I ever doubted your existence. I take it all back. Thank you!)

Digging out a pair of Subaru's is always better with hot coffee in hand!

And snow days are one of the special beauties of life in the mountains. It's like a bonus vacation day. Sure, you spend half the day doing snow removal, but I just consider it cross-training. I also caught up on my grading, sat around drinking coffee with my sweetie, and took the dogs cross country skiing through the snowy streets of Truckee.

I love living up here. I love the snow, and all the craziness that comes with it. And you know, I guess birthdays aren't so bad either.

Fresh tracks in the Sugar Bowl backcountry, 12-7-09. (Unfortunately, this is not me!)

Billy Dutton Uphill

Last Sunday, I finally took part in a local event I've always wanted to do: The Billy Dutton Uphill. The race celebrates the life of Billy Dutton, who used to hike to the top of the mountain every day before work during his days at the Squaw Valley Resort. Athletes are invited to ski, run, snowshoe, or, as the event declares, just "run what 'ya brung!" in your attempt to climb 2000' to High Camp.




Runners Gather at the Start


Squaw Patrollers run in memory of fellow patroller Andrew Entin



Ascending the initial slope


I had a blast doing this race, and I have to admit, the 3.2 miles were harder than I'd expected. I opted for running shoes with YakTrax on. These "chains for shoes" make running over ice and hard-packed snow a breeze. Conditions were firm, and snow shoes were definitely not necessary.

The runners and skiers seemed fairly evenly divided, and I wondered which would prove the quickest up the hill. The director signaled the start, and we headed up the Mountain Run (the easiest way down from the top). My heart rate soared, and I was immediately reduced to a walk. When the incline relaxed a bit, I was able to run again, and thus began my slow slog to the summit: run-walk-run-walk.

Runner Peter Fain leads the skiers up the hill


The day was gorgeous, and I was appreciating this unconventional time on the slopes before the hordes of downhill skiers would invade. Conditions were perfect for running! A mere 51 minutes later, I was at the top.

It turned out that the first two finishers were skiers, with Peter right behind them. The last stretch is downhill, so a runner would have to have a good lead to avoid being caught by a pursuing skier at the finish. Full results can be found here.

My friend Ben and his band provided live music on the deck, while people sipped beer, relaxed in the sun and gazed out at the stunning view. Just another day in Paradise.


Skiers gain the advantage on the slight downhill into the finish


The view from the top--well worth the climb!



The tram ride back to the bottom


Check back tomorrow for my report on a much different race: this weekend's adventure at Diablo!

The Great Ski Race


Last weekend I participated in a favorite winter event here in Tahoe, The Great Ski Race. A fundraiser for the Tahoe Nordic Search and Rescue Team, it draws one of the largest crowds of skiers west of the Mississippi. This year was no exception, with over 800 participants crossing the finish line. It’s a 30K race from Tahoe City (on the north shore of Lake Tahoe) to Truckee, and it’s absolutely beautiful!

Skiers gather in the starting area

I had waited to the last minute to sign up, as there was a good chance the race was going to be cancelled. With one of the driest Januarys on record, and February not doing much better, there was essentially no snow on the course one week before the race. Things looked grim. But then we got one of those big storms that this area is famous for, and suddenly there was 9 feet of new snow blanketing nearby Donner Summit. The race was on!
I am not exactly an experienced Nordic racer, and I had only been on my skate skis once this season. My technique is shoddy, to say the least, but I knew I at least had endurance on my side. I was joined in the race by two co-workers, Mike and Ambrose, along with Ambrose’s parents. Mike and Ambrose were definitely experienced Nordic racers, and this was reflected in their seeded starts, Ambrose in wave #1 and Mike in wave #3. I myself was back in wave #5. The starting line announcer referred to us as “the cruisers, just out there to have fun.” I sort of resented this summation, as I considered myself to be more “working my butt off, but just slow.” Maybe the cruisers were in wave #6?

Ambrose takes off with the first wave (photo by Michael Roberts)

As I watched the first wave take off from my position back in wave #5, it was clear these guys were fast and competitive. Their technique was smooth and graceful, even while they were jockeying for position. They looked like figure skaters with long sticks on their feet. I couldn’t pick out Ambrose in the crowd, but I wished him luck as we all cheered them on. As the waves ahead moved up to the line, I spotted two girls in spangled pants with bunny ears and cotton tails. A man wearing nothing but a speedo skied up to join their wave. Even some of the faster people were still out there to have fun, (if you call skiing naked fun!)

costumed skiers are not an unusual sight (photo by Michael Roberts)

With three minutes in between each wave start, I set off 12 minutes after the first wave. Skiers are not allowed to skate for the first 50 yards or so in an effort to avoid crashing right off the starting line. This makes sense from a logistical standpoint, but I have to say that double poling really sucks. Those skis were meant for skating.
The first 5K or so is spent winding through the Tahoe Cross Country Ski Area, and trying desperately to stay out of the way of fellow racers. This can be tricky, because as with the start of a running race, you are trying to pass slower racers, while others are trying to pass you. The big difference is that we are all on skis and take up a lot more space. I think the key is to remember that it is a long race, and not to get too concerned about passing people. There will be plenty of time for that. That being said, I did manage to trip over someone’s pole and go down about 5 minutes into the race. Whoops! Fortunately I got up quickly and didn’t cause a domino affect of crashes behind me.
Soon after leaving the cross country center, skiers find themselves on the long climb up to Starrett Pass. It’s not an incredibly steep hill, but it seems never ending. Not being very graceful on the down hills, I also knew that this was likely to be my strongest part of the race. I dug in, and began slowly but steadily passing other skiers. I knew once we reached the top of the pass, the hard part was pretty much over. At the top, we were rewarded with stunning mountain views and a soup station (a.k.a., the aid station.) I was skiing with a very lightly filled camelback, so I just skied by and grabbed a Twix bar off a plate; a perfect sugar boost to munch on the downhill.
There are many comparisons to be made between ski races and running races, but I have to say, the down hill is not one of them. Going downhill is unquestionably easier on skis, and it’s faster. It’s like stopping to rest, meanwhile covering ground twice as fast as you were before. And it doesn’t hurt your knees! Truly, it’s like a miracle when compared to running downhill. The trail from the 10K marker to the 20K marker is a beautiful, not too steep, downhill that goes by so fast you have to remind yourself to enjoy it before you start huffing and puffing again.
The last 10K is rolling with a little bit of everything. Personally I enjoyed the small hills because it broke things up, but I think I was the only one. The biggest challenge of the course comes at the very end. Just when your legs have turned completely to jelly, you have to negotiate a steep downhill punctuated with a series of sharp turns; a section of the course termed “the luge” by some skiers. The steepest hill of course, is right across the finish line. I don’t know what sick mind thought this would be a good way to finish a 30K ski race, but it does draw a crowd of spectators at the finish area, who are guaranteed to see some carnage. I used my jelly legs to their fullest to stay in a controlled snow plow, not caring in the least that other skiers were passing me like mad. I was just starting to get up a little more speed than I was comfortable with when I came to the steepest part of the hill. “Oh great,” I muttered aloud upon seeing the last 100 yards to the finish line.
“You can do it!” said a laughing spectator. I could tell he was just waiting for me to eat it. Why else would anyone be standing at that icy corner? Sicko! I figured he would get his due when some out of control skier came careening around the corner straight into him. It wasn’t going to be me though.
Miraculously I made it in unscathed. My time, 2:09, sounded fast to me, but since I’m not much of a racer I don’t really know what it means. I finished 361 out of 812. Not bad I guess. Ambrose crossed the line in 1:28 for 33rd place, and Mike finished in 1:33. Now that’s fast! All in all, it was a beautiful day and a fun cross training event.We got some food and beer and listened to the band while we watched the rest of the skiers cross the line, hoping to see a few good crashes.

The End: the naked guy finishes with style. (photo by Michael Roberts)

Check back next week for my write up of Saturday's Way Too Cool 50K!