Snowshoe Nationals in the Green Mountain State

This article originally appeared in the March 2014 ATRA Newsletter.

By Laura Clark  
 
While the Olympics is exciting, inspiring and fun to watch on TV, it is just that…watching.  If you are like me, I would really rather be participating than sitting on the sidelines.  And while our local Dion Snowshoe Series events do just that, I learned that the scope of a Nationals competition adds a unique flavor.  This year we celebrated our own home-grown Olympics at Prospect Mountain in Woodford, Vermont, with qualifying standards, multiple events and athletes from 28 states and eight countries.  Thanks to Dave Newell, race director, Tim Van Orden (pictured above), course designer, and Bob and Denise Dion, snowshoe sponsors, a small corner of our eighth smallest state hosted the largest United States Snowshoe Association Nationals ever.  Woodford, Vermont, is now on the map.

According to Mark Elmore, who conceived and hosted the first Nationals in Plattsburg, NY, in 2001, the Northeast is an ideal location because the population density — no mega cattle ranches here — ensures that reasonable travel time is possible for many athletes.  Plus, no matter what kind of winter the rest of the New England is experiencing, Woodford is getting snow, and plenty of it.  Last year, when the white stuff was scarce, Woodford had an ample supply through April, perfect for all those snow bunnies who would rather ski than color Easter eggs. This year was a different story, with Prospect Mountain boasting 63 inches a few days before the event.

But, before we get there, a few words about an unannounced competition.  We all know that every seemingly straightforward race is top-heavy with friendly rivalries, footnotes to the main story.  So it is with Annie and Sam.  All season long, my Annie has been flexing her studded tires, striving with all her might to beat Laurel’s Samantha to the parking lot.  This time Annie figured herself for a goner, as Sam had opted for the true Vermont experience at a local B&B while Annie was a lengthy commute away.  Still, to humor her, we fueled with one of the higher octane mixes, endured a lengthy sub-zero warmup and were on our way well before the proverbial rosy-fingered dawn.  And this time, refusing pit stops despite the whining of her driver, Annie won handily by six parking spot lengths!  I had met my obligations as a responsible car owner and was now free to concentrate on my race.

I was not sure I really wanted to though. I had examined the list of entrants in my age group and could peg roughly half of them.  The rest were wildcards.  Knowing I appear on the bottom half of the results sheet, I rarely get nervous, aiming for an enjoyable experience and a placement within my usual grouping of companions.  But, this was different.  I really wanted to stand on that age group hay bale, never mind the fact that it was cold and windy up there in the open.  I even tried visualizing the course before I fell asleep.  This was a mistake as I ended up with worst-scenario nightmares.  If we had had the same race as we did two weeks previously at the Woodford Whiteout, I might have squeezed by.  But, on this day, although the route was exactly the same, it was more entrenched, less flowy and blowy. We had the same steep hills, the same winding, snake-carved single track, but everything was easier to negotiate, favoring runners who were truly fast and not merely tough and persistent.  The Annie/Sam pursuit continued in human form as Laurel and I passed and re-passed each other with Laurel eventually edging me out by 53 seconds. Did Annie ever rub it in on the way home!

While I have run Freihofer’s Run for Women more times than I can count, that is a pure women’s event and not a divided female/male offering.  While most women were thrilled to concentrate solely on picking off same-sex rivals, I wasn’t so sure.  Although it is slowly evolving, trail running still features long men’s room lines and non-existent female queues, except in the final countdown minutes when guys head to the woods and the gals think about toilet paper.  I am used to running with men in my group.  In our local events, we tend to become complacent, knowing just where we should end up in the status quo.  The fact that I could recognize only have the entrants in my age group left me without a benchmark.

This year females were first up, followed by males.  As I watched the guys finish, I realized that they were similarly clueless, inquiring about my time and then comparing to see if they ran as expected. Later, I worked up my nerve and casually (who was I fooling?) wandered over to the results board.  I was listed fourth among the age group winners.  I thought the ranking was a bit odd, but figured I’d take it.  It was not until I hunted down the asterisk that I realized that only the top three counted.  Unreasonably, I thought that perhaps if someone decided not to accept, I would be the lucky runner-up.  Apparently, oxygen was still being shuttled off to my feet and not to my brain cells.

I had never understood Olympic athletes who failed to embrace the total experience as reward enough, and especially not those who griped at third place.  But I had always empathized with fourth place.  You are torn by the “Couldn’t I have tried harder/trained better?” question mark hanging in the air, mentally reviewing each moment to see if perhaps a few more seconds could have been squeezed out.  As I crossed the finish line, I was in full George Sheehan “no regrets” mode, later I had my doubts.  Coming in sixth or eighth still earns you top-ten credibility, but fourth, while infinitely closer to the goal, merits sympathy.  Eventually, I rationalized that in four years I would crest the 70-year-old age group, which this year was a shoe-in with only one other entrant.  That is, until my husband, Jeff, respectfully pointed out that everyone else would have moved up with me.  Oh well.

While some athletes skipped the closing ceremonies, many of us opted for the final day of fun, which included team relays where four-person teams each ran a 2.5-km loop for a 10K total.  This was basically a section of the previous day’s 10K, but negotiated “backward.”  Which meant that the route was familiar in an Alice-In-Wonderland style.  Sunday, too, brought typical mountain weather—snow, gusty winds, teasing snippets of sun that made the first round more difficult than the fourth tie-breaking loop.  High school cross country ski team members served as cheerleaders and course guides, adding a unique energy to our already tired legs. This was a great opportunity for local kids to show their stuff, and try as they might, some of our team members simply could not pass the nine-year-olds on various kids’ teams!

By far the most fun events were Saturday’s Kids’ Kilo and Sunday’s Uphill Run for maple syrup.  The photo below shows Solitaire Niles (yellow shorts) running next to Tim Van Orden and captures the enthusiasm of the next crop of snowshoers.  Solitaire had been coming to our events for years, sledding and playing in the snow while her brother, London, competed and now it was her turn!  You can just see the joy on her face.  Jeff and I direct two races in the Saratoga area, and after seeing these kids, are seriously thinking of our own kids’ event.  The uphill had a mix of ages and was one of the most fun things I have ever done.  My goal was not to walk, and I think I succeeded, but the grade was so steep, it was difficult to tell.  I crested, totally out of breath, and was forced to sit down for several minutes before my wobbly legs could support me.

While I didn’t score an individual medal, our Saratoga Stryders Women’s team did win bronze, so I achieved a podium stand after all.  And I believe I was the only one in my ancient age group to score a tri—10K, team and uphill.  Maybe next time I’ll go for a quad with the Citizen’s Race.

7th ANNUAL VAIL MOUNTAIN WINTER UPHILL COMPETITION

(Vail, Colo) -- The 7th Annual Vail Mountain Winter Uphill competition will take place Saturday, Feb. 22 on Vail Mountain. The race will begin at 7 a.m. in Lionshead, adjacent to the Eagle Bahn Gondola, and take runners, skiers, snowshoers and outdoor enthusiasts approximately 2,000 vertical feet, or two miles, up the groomed trails to Eagle's Nest at the top of Vail Mountain. The event is organized by long-time Vail Valley locals Ellen Miller and Hooker Lowe to honor the memory of Vail's-own Lyndon Ellefson who died in 1998. Ellefson was a foreman on the Eagle Bahn Gondola and member of the U.S. Mountain Running Team, which is one of the beneficiaries of race proceeds. The event is also a fundraiser for the Vail Valley Foundation's Literacy Program.

The categories for this year's race are open, which include running shoes, stabilizers or snowshoes; track skis, which include any light weight ski equipment; and heavy metal, which include metal-edged skis such as telemark gear. Participants receive a post-race party with breakfast at Eagle's Nest, T-shirt, awards and prizes. Prizes will be awarded by overall place and category by gender age group including 18 and under, 19-29, 30-39, 40-49, 50-59, 60-69, and 70 plus.

Registration is available by going to www.imathlete.com/events/vailmountainwinteruphill or on race-day until 6:30 a.m. at the Vail Chophouse Restaurant located at the base of the Eagle Bahn Gondola in Lionshead. Race entry is $30 through Feb. 6 and $40 on race-day.

For more information, e-mail Ellen Miller. 

Race Report: Through the Mist at Moby Dick

Story by Laura Clark - originally published in ATRA's Trail Times Newsletter - Volume 18, Number 63 - Spring 2013

Photo from runwmac.com

Since it was first published in 1851, Herman Melville’s classic Moby Dick has come to symbolize everyman’s quest for something beyond day-to-day trivia, a reach outside the box toward a larger justification. And while it seems ridiculous to tagline such a quest onto a mere race, on February 23, 2013, the branding was entirely appropriate.

The Moby Dick Snowshoe race is based out of the Lanesboro Visitor’s Center on Mount Greylock, the largest mountain in Massachusetts. The sheer girth of this mountain is so vast that there are entrances and trailheads shooting off from various surrounding towns. It is said that while sitting in his house in
Pittsfield, Massachusetts, Herman Melville gazed upward at Greylock’s snow-covered profile and imagined the great white whale breaking the sea foam in the misty ocean swells. Hence, the name for this particular Western Mass Athletic Club/Dion Snowshoe Series 7.5-mile race.

Those of you who have snowshoed recognize that 7.5 miles is a long way to run up and down a mountain. A lot can happen. And as with any mountain race, there were many surprises along the way. Some of us were old hands; others were attempting their first snowshoe race. We won’t go into questioning why anyone would pick such a challenging event for a first: it is all part of the quest mentality. Others had the usual time/distance race goals. One had more a complex cumulative goal.

Those on the most telling quest weren’t even there. As we all know, the most significant aspect of any trail event is the weather. This is even more so over an expansive space like Greylock, which lumbers through multiple ecosystems. Last year, we braved below-zero blizzard conditions and furious snow squalls which kept even our faithful greeter, the white lab Aspen, anchored closely to the Visitor’s Center. This year was a balmy thirty degrees without a trace of the usual wind chill. So our main concern was not overdressing after enduring weeks of negative degrees. But once again, Lady Greylock foiled our expectations.

At the three-quarter-mile mark we turned off the snowmobile trail and Into the Woods. There we encountered foggy mist, a Greylock trademark. Those who figured going up meant getting colder despite the strenuous climb had properly guessed the clothes/energy ratio. Others, like Jess Dockendorff and her friend the Mystery Runner bib #375, pursuing their first snowshoe race, hit widely varying spokes on the pilot’s helm. Mystery Runner — dressed in shorts — remained firmly optimistic and in fact finished in the top third. Dockendorff, however, while dressed sensibly, neglected to carry any fuel, figuring she was fast enough to finish well beyond the depletion zone. She was not so fortunate in her lottery attempt. After summiting second woman overall, she gradually bonked on the supposedly fun downhill. When I encountered her, she was weaving back and forth, grabbing trees for support. Not a good sign. Luckily, I had some extra Clif Shot Bloks to share and I knew Joanne Lynch, who was just behind me, had water. I knew this because she had previously shared some with me. Yes, I know, I should have carried water, but figured I could always eat snow.

We all regrouped at the Visitor’s Center sopping wet and shivering—more so than on any of the minus-degree days. Go figure. Must have been something about the Lady’s misty aspect, or her insistence on elevating even ordinary requests to extraordinary undertakings. The beauty of her frost-whiskered trees did not come without a price. While Dockendorff was shivering on the verge of hypothermia, those treating her in their own wet clothing were not much better off. Dr. Maureen Roberts’s lips slowly turned blue and she had to hurriedly change before she became the next victim. It is a definite asset to have a doctor on call and Dr. Roberts has served us well during several races this season.

Despite this close call, the Lady also revealed a trickster sense of humor. Jeff Clark, on his quest to complete his 100th snowshoe race before winter vanished, embarked wearing a monkey on his back. This was not a spur-of-the moment goal or monkey, but one Clark and I revisited every night at the dinner table as we totaled past races, factored in snow probability and did all sorts of scary math equations. Originally, he had thought it would be special to celebrate with his half marathon at the Peak Snowshoe races in Pittsfield, Vermont, but in light of this winter’s erratic weather patterns, decided to steer determinately toward the great white whale. And he was not disappointed. At registration Sweep Voll presented him with a sweet pink-and-white sock monkey affixed on his back, guaranteeing him safe passage.

I swear Lady Greylock laughed, so hard in fact that she got into his mind. Jeff, who had started out early, envisioned +Tim VanOrden passing him as he did his best Brer Rabbit imitation falling into the brambles. The catch was that Jeff had no idea there was a briar patch on the course or that TiVo would be passing him at that exact second. But there was, and he did. Shocked to see his dream world become reality, Clark pitched forward into the underbrush, eager wires entwining themselves around his snowshoes and anchoring him to the spot. Served him right for not initially targeting Moby. This year Edward Alibozek, a history buff who likes to design trails with tales, changed the route slightly to circle Rounds Rock and come close to the remains of a 1948 plane wreck and the monument to the pilot who lost his life. The aviator was John Newcomb, a World War II Army Air Corps radioman who crashed his twin-engine Cessna while on a mail run to Albany, NY.

Now here is the backstory. Recently, when one of our Saratoga Stryders members, Lisa Ippolito, was sorting through her deceased mother’s belongings on the day before her funeral, she happened upon a packet of love letters and newspaper articles. They were from John Newcomb, her mother’s fiancé. Completing the love story, her mother was to be buried the following day on Newcomb’s birthday. Immediately after the race, we texted  ppolito to tell her we had located her mother’s fiancé’s memorial and now knew the exact route to get there! Apparently, Lisa and her sister had no idea of her mother’s romance before she became Mrs. Ippolito. I would like to think that even when she realized she was dying of cancer she preferred to keep this part of her life private, leaving a legacy for Ippolito and her sister Tina to explore further. Ippolito and her sister will make their own Moby Dick quest this spring, confronting an astute Lady who knows how to keep a secret and cherish the past.

Results, video and photos from the Moby Dick Snowshoe Race can be found on the Western Mass Athletic Club website: http://www.runwmac.com/snowshoes/Moby%20Dick.htm