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“Athletic” Goals, 2009-2010

Sunday, I’m running a 5k race on the trails of the River Bend Nature Center in Faribault, Minnesota – my first event in what I hope will be a fairly active year of training and racing. I’ve been pretty consistently training four to six times a week for a couple years now, so I hope this season – running from now through next February’s ski races – will be a good one, “athletically.”

Beyond what I’ve been doing for training (primarily hourlong runs, rollerskis, and skis, interspersed with shorter, harder sessions), I’m going to try to do at least one 2-hour session each month (probably running with poles or rollerskiing) and at least two intensity sessions in each 10-day period – more at certain points, and trying to do a lot of uphill and/or relatively long efforts, such as fast four minute uphill runs or skis.) In large part, adding these kinds of workouts is an attempt to avoid another race as bad as my horrible experience at the City of Lakes Loppet in February.

As for racing, I have five events in mind. If I can do even three of them, I’ll be happy. If I can do all five – especially the two ski races in February – I’ll be elated. And tired. And appreciative of Shannon’s needing to cover for me at home. Here is the list of goal races, along with the distance and a target time. (If anybody wants to front the money that would let me do the Marcialonga in Italy in January or the Vasaloppet in Sweden in March, I’ll be happy to do the training.)

Sunday, April 19, 2009
Maple Syrup Run at River Bend Nature Center in Faribault, Minnesota
5k – 22:00

Sunday, September 13, 2009
Defeat of Jesse James Days road races in Northfield, Minnesota
5k – 20:30 or 15k – 1:05:00

Saturday, October 17, 2009
Nerstrand Big Woods Run in Nerstrand, Minnesota
half marathon/21k – 2:00:00

Sunday, February 7, 2010
City of Lakes Loppet in Minneapolis, Minnesota
33k freestyle – 1:45 or 25k classic – no idea what would be possible or good!

Sunday, February 14, 2010
Mora Vasaloppet in Mora, Minnesota
58k skate or 42k classic – again, no idea what would be possible or good

Three Seasons in One Run

Walking from the office to the car this afternoon, the air had that heavy, unmistakable smell of spring: wet, green, growing. This contrasted sharply with my run on Sunday – the longest run of the new training year, from my house to the far northeastern corner of the Lower Arb, near the Waterford Bridge. I was out for a nice long time, and in that time, I experienced every season but summer.

I started into a brutal north headwind that was first just chilly but that, when I reached the Arb, started to create wet little squalls by blowing frozen and melted snow out of the trees onto me, the robins, and the squirrels. Where I could see them through the trees, the Carleton and St. Olaf wind turbines were spinning madly, trying to put that wind to more productive use. For one long stretch, as I crossed some open fields, a red-tailed hawk rode the gusts above me, using the wind for his own purposes and, I worried, deciding if I was edible.

Deeper in the woods, where the morning sun had only intermittently shone on the path, the trails were either still covered with supremely wet, sticky snow or with supremely wet, sticky black mud. At one point, the goo in my left shoe’s treads picked up a foot-long twig that was godawfully hard to shake off. When I stopped to yank the stick loose, a pheasant screeched somewhere nearby, giving me a literal and figurative start. A few minutes after that, just before the turnaround at Canada Avenue, I reached a mudpatch so wide, long, and deep that I turned around instead of eking out the last few meters to the parking lot.

The second half of the run was hazier, thanks to fatigue, but as I passed the perfect little Kettle Hole Marsh, I heard a bedlam chorus of spring peepers – this, just a few hours after the last snow of the season. And just a few minutes after that, the sun slid out from behind the gray-white clouds, spectacularly lighting up the still gray-brown fields.

Springy

Even though there’s light snow in the weekend forecast, I’m okay with spring. Today I biked home through the Upper Arb, which still looks pretty winter-sleepy and brown (and even sports a few little traces of snow and ice), and tonight I’m going to go for a nighttime run in the Lower Arb along the river. Sure, I’d rather be skiing in both locations, but I’ll take what I can get!

Woodchuck Run

Apropos of my post yesterday, I wound up today talking with Nancy Braker, the director of the Carleton Arboretum and, as such, someone who knows much better than I do what sorts of animals inhabit the Arb. Though gently supportive of my desire for yesterday’s creature to have been a fisher, she equally gently told me that in all likelihood I saw a woodchuck. A Google image search for woodchucks turned up photos of a creature that looks intolerably like the beast I saw yesterday on my run. How wrong could a runner be if a runner could be wrong? Really, really wrong.

Fisher Run

Winding up a run in the sodden, glistening Arb this afternoon, I was heading back toward campus along the river trail when I saw a cat-sized brown animal dart across the path ahead of me and up a dead tree. “Weird – a raccoon out at noon?”

I slowed down to look up at the animal, but then stopped when I saw that it had no mask. The little beastie nestled into a vee of two branches and peered down at me with a frank black-eyed look, clearly wishing I’d move along. I walked a couple steps to get a different angle. The creature had a wide, furry body and a long fuzzy tail – the size and shape of a raccoon, but a solid dark brown or black, rather than the grays and light browns of a raccoon. “Weird – a mink? a weasel?” I jogged off to let the whatever-it-was get back to whatever it was doing.

I wondered about the animal all day. When the girls went to bed, I paged therough my Mammals of Minnesota field guide and the Minnesota DNR’s excellent online guide and figured that – based on size, coloration, and the funny look of its eyes – it was a fisher, one of the rarest mammals in Minnesota, and much more common up north.

Vivi or Marthe?

The young Norwegian skier Marthe Kristoffersen had a decent first year on the World Cup circuit, where she is mostly known for a very bad anchor leg in the relay at the World Championships and her penchant for skiing with her sleeves pushed up.

Like Marthe, Genevieve has quite a bit of Norwegian blood flowing in her veins, has never won a medal at the Nordic World Ski Championships, and likes to have her sleeves rolled up. Olympics 2028?

Bizarro Gym

My trip to the gym today was a bizarre one, from the moment I stepped out of my office building into a ridiculously loud cacophony of birdsong. For a second, I thought maybe some students were filming a movie and running a high-volume recording of birds. Nope, just a zillion returned migrators in the trees out front.

I avoided any sort of Tippi Hedren incidents, and made it to the gym. There I discovered that the new fluorescent lights (like many, but not all, others around campus) were producing a horrible low-pitched whine in my hearing aids. (I can barely go to meetings in one campus building, the light-induced whine is so bad.) Luckily, I don’t wear my aids when I work out, so this didn’t bother me for long. As I changed, someone’s cell phone – entombed in a locker – started ringing, a crazy 120bpm rhythm with a rising melody. It rang for an appropriate number of seconds, went quiet, and then started again. Quiet, then ringing again. In a hurry to get the hell away from it, I tied my shoes in the hallway.

Down in the fitness center, I chose a treadmill offering equally good views of two different TVs. I figured that both would probably be airing the usual sorts of noontime crap, but that it would be different crap, and since I could look back and forth between them, that I would consume just half as much crap. Sure enough, the right-hand screen showed first a soap opera (all dark-haired men with lantern jaws and blonde women with Victoria’s Secret cleavage) and then live coverage of the AIG hearings on Capitol Hill (all pasty white guys gesticulating wildly and talking sternly back and forth).

Thankfully, and in utter distinction from those two sorts of drivel, the left-hand screen was tuned to a show on the History Channel: the history of ice cream. It was educational and entertaining! I actually learned quite a bit about the differences between regular ice cream, soft-serve ice cream, and frozen yogurt, and about the corporate niches of Dairy Queen, Ben & Jerry’s, and TCBY. (I also learned about the insane “Vermonster” sundae at B&J’s. The 20 scoops of ice cream just start the craziness.) Actually, come to think of it, the show was basically an advertisements for those companies and their products, a point reinforced by actual ads for DQ between the segments of the show. Well, DQ ads and ads for debt-relief agencies. Which are basically just two forms of commentary on American indulgence.

As the show wound on, its educational aspects were replaced by an insanely strong desire for ice cream, and lots of it. I ended my workout just as the show ended and headed back to the locker room, where, of course, the cell phone was still ringing, and ringing, and ringing. Again hurrying to get away from its satantic ring tone, I chose the nearest shower stall and cranked on the water – and discovered that the shower curtain was a good four inches narrower than the space between the sides of the stall. It was like showering in a hospital gown. I hurried through my shower and went back to the locker room, where the owner of the cell phone – someone who did not look like the sort of person who likes 120bpm music – was happily chatting away. Naked.

I’ve never gotten dressed so fast. I was heading out the front door of the gym within five minutes, back toward the still iced-over Lyman Lakes and my office.

Last Ski of February

I’m off to Washington, D.C., for a conference on Sunday afternoon, so I felt an especially strong urge to enjoy the still-fresh snow today. The Lower Arb didn’t disappoint.

Greatest Commute Ever

Watching the blizzard on Thursday, I was seized by a renewed desire to ski to work. The notion originated in a blog post by Alex, an e-quaintance (and a fast skier) who roller-skied to work in Boston last summer.

The idea really took hold earlier this winter, though, when I realized that my house isn’t too far from the Northfield golf course, which runs close to the Arb, which abuts campus, which contains my office.* Then the snow melted, leaving me to my wheeled devices.

Until today. Yesterday’s “Snowmaggedon” made the ski commute feasible again (as a commenter noted), so I worked out the timing and did it. Owing to an, shall we say, indirect route, I had to budget quite a bit of time, but I reached the Carleton Rec Center (where, for perspirational reasons, the commute ended) after a solid 55 minutes of skiing.

My route (about 4.2km/2.6 miles altogther) took me out my backyard, along a street, across part of the Northfield Golf Club‘s course, and then through Carleton’s Upper Arboretum. I climbed up and over eight snow berms, sank to my hips in one deceptive drift on the golf course, and made four road crossings, one of which included a satisfyingly odd look from a passing motorist.

It was, in a word, fantastic. Under a brilliant sun and sky, the pure white snow was untracked except by a few critters – deer, rabbits, squirrels, and either a Yeti or a snowshoer. The whole thing was great, but the best moment came as I skied down an incline on the golf course fairway: behind me, the sun suddenly emerged from a cloud, lighting up everything around me and casting my dark black shadow down the hill. Amazing. The view back up the slope wasn’t terrible, either. (Click through for other photos, including one shot by a nice young woman who agreed to take a picture of the dude in the weird hat.)

* My other oddball goal for the winter is to do a 50km ski session in the Lower Arb. It’s harder than it seems, since the trails only let you create 8km or 9km loops. Anyone for a few laps?

Experiment Results

After one field test, the investigator can definitively report that the unconventional handlebar configuration depicted in Figure I is wholly unsatisfactory with respect to the operation of a bicycle.

Figure I

The deviation of the handlebars from the conventional orientation (in which the handlebars are at a right angle to the plane of the wheels and frame) makes steering difficult, if not impossible. Interestingly, this difficulty is encountered while attempting to walk with the bicycle, as well as – presumably – while attempting to ride it. (The investigator did not attempt to ride the thusly-configured bicycle, only to walk it approximately 500 meters.)

In addition to the difficulties inherent in operating a bicycle configured in this way, the investigator would like to comment on the unsatisfactory nature of the configuration process. To carry out this field test, the investigator “crashed” the bicycle while making a right-hand turn at a relatively low speed. Owing to ice, this turn quickly devolved into the type of crash sometimes called a “lay down.” Though the precise sequence of events cannot be recalled, the end state found the investigator lying prone on the street approximately three feet from the bicycle. After a few deranged-sounding shouts and curses, the investigator rose to discover that the crash had reconfigured the handlebars in the manner illustrated. The handlebars were later returned to the conventional orientation. The investigator injured his left thumb and his ego, which had been badly mangled in two crashes earlier in the winter.

Want

The other day, led by Google to the blog of a Danish athlete who is training for the big Vasaloppet race in Sweden, I came across this photo:

I duly dug up the website of the pictured device, the “Thoraxtrainer,” which has been designed by Jonas Thor Olsen, a Danish cross-country skier notable for finishing way down the results sheet in pretty much every major race of the World Cup – but who nonetheless races every damn race. Tough guy, and apparently smart, to develop this poling machine, which looks pretty cool.

So naturally, I want one. At current exchange rates, it costs about $6,000. Not too bad, but maybe I should just finally build a rollerboard for those wet days when I don’t want to rollerski or run.

Kikkan!

This morning started very well, with news from the Czech Republic that Kikkan Randall (Anchorage, Alaska) finished second (by a toe!) in the women’s freestyle sprint at the Nordic World Ski Championships. Kikkan – who is a prolific and adept blogger as well as a hellaciously fast skier – thus earned the first-ever medal by an American woman in cross-country skiing, and the first medal by an American cross-country skier since 1982 (the same year she was born). In winning the silver, Kikkan completes a decisive comeback from a blood clot that nearly killed her last summer.

What’s more, Kikkan’s medal puts the United States near the top of the medal count at the Liberec Worlds – one medal behind Norway, which literally invented modern skiing, and ahead of countries like Sweden, Finland, Germany, and Russia where many, many citizens ski at a very high level and where governments and companies rush to sponsor racers. By comparison, Kikkan’s biggest sponsor (besides the U.S. Ski Team) is her hometown Subway restaurant chain!

But years of hard work by the athletes and coaches are paying off at Liberec, and in a big way. As a longtime fan of U.S. nordic skiing (and someone who’s sent them a couple donations), I couldn’t be happier – not least because the championships calendar still includes a number of events in which Americans could conceivably medal.

Kikkan Randall, Arianna Follis, Pirjo Muranen — Kikkan Randall (USA; silver), Arianna Follis (Italy; gold), Pirjo Muranen (Finland, bronze)

(Photo from Universal Sports, where you can watch videos of all of the Nordic World Ski Championship races – including Kikkan’s silver.)

The U.S. Nordic Experience

American nordic skiing has a short list of great days, including Bill Koch‘s silver medal in the 30km at the 1976 Olympics, Koch’s World Cup title in 1980, Kris Freeman taking fourth place in the 15km classic-style race and Johnny Spillane winning a nordic combined gold at the 2003 World Championships, and the recent top-three finishes in sprint races by Torin Koos (Otepaa, 2007), Andy Newell (Lahti, 2008, and Changchun, 2006), and Kikkan Randall (Rybinsk, 2007).

Today’s excellent results by Americans at the World Championship in Liberec topped everything. Lindsay Van (Utah) won the first-ever gold medal in women’s ski jumping with the day’s longest jump. Todd Lodwick (Colorado) won a gold after finishing first in both the cross-country and the ski jumping portions of the mass-start nordic combined event. And – best of all, at least given the depth of competition – Kris Freeman finished fourth, just 1.3 seconds from bronze, in the men’s 15km classic-technique cross-country race. Recently diagnosed with a severe case of compartment syndrome, has had to curtail his racing over the last months, but he pulled off a great race today. Starting 21st, eight slots ahead of the best racers, Freeman worked his way into the race, moving up steadily at each checkpoint (his placings: 48, 42, 34, 21, 14, 10, 8, 6, 4, 4) but failing, finally, to find the 1.4 seconds he needed to move into third and the medals. (For a really good analysis of Freeman’s race strategy, see my friend Colin’s post over at our Nordic Commentary Project blog.)

Even so, the accomplishment is superlative, and bodes well for other races Freeman can run this season. It should also give the American team a good boost as the World Championships continue with ten more races between tomorrow and March 1.

Kris Freeman (image via Universal Sports)

(Crossposted to Nordic Commentary Project.)

Nordic Ski World Championships

I know that baseball fans are pumped up over the start of spring training as well as that whole World Baseball Classic thingy, and I suppose that basketball fans are getting excited about the buildup to March Madness, but I’d be a poor fan of cross-country skiing if I didn’t also point out that I am jazzed about the Nordic Ski World Championships in Liberec, Czech Republic.

Between now and March 1, Liberec will see a colossal slate of competitions that encompasses men’s and women’s cross-country skiing, men’s and (for the first time) women’s ski jumping, and men’s nordic combined (a mix of ski jumping and cross-country skiing). The racing will include the largest-ever complement of nordic-sport athletes and countries, with athletes from the usual powers like Norway, Sweden, Germany, Russia, and Italy; middleweight nations like Poland, Czech Republic, Slovakia, and France; and even places like India, South Africa, Brazil, Peru, and Mongolia.

Unlike in 2007, when I blogged the hell out of the Sapporo world champs, I’m going to keep my ski blogging over at the Nordic Commentary Project. Click over if you’re curious or interested. For what it’s worth, both the United States and Canada have sent strong teams to Liberec, including numerous legitimate medal contenders in men’s and women’s cross country and in nordic combined. If anything, the Canadians have a slightly better chance to win some hardware. Writing as a fan and a skier, it would be exciting to see any medals come back to North America.

City of Lakes Loppet Race Report, or, That Really Hurt

Today’s City of Lakes Loppet took place in warm sunshine under robin’s-egg blue skies. The springlike weather was pretty much the best part of the event, because my race was pretty much a disaster. It was fun in a “the worst day skiing is better than the best day lying around” sort of way, but otherwise, it was a sufferfest. I didn’t so just spelunk in the “pain cave” that racers talk about; I was there so long I practically evolved into one of those eyeless transparent cavern-dwelling fish they show in National Geographic.

And I skied about as fast as one of those fish would. I simply couldn’t go, and for no other reason than the most straightforward one: I didn’t train enough or correctly. (I also missed my wax, but the Swedish national ski team’s wax servicemen couldn’t have saved me today, and I dressed too warmly, but I could have taken off a layer before the race started.)

In more detail: the first half of the City of Lakes Loppet course (which you can see in its entirety here) is very hilly, a relentless rollercoaster of lots of short, sharp “walls” covered (this year) by the deep granular snow that skiers call “sugar” but which is not sweet to ski through. After going up and down the 1,000 hills (plus or minus) between the start and the five kilometer mark, my legs were already screaming, and they never recovered.

On the flats, much later in the course, I was able to pole quite well – indicating that my doublepoling sessions to build upper-body and core strength weren’t for naught – but my legs would not cooperate, and instead alternated between achingly stiff and painfully wobbly. Not a good combination, unless you’re looking to watch people pass you in droves, and neither latch on nor pass anyone back.

The final result wasn’t pretty: a finishing time of 2:10:49, “good” for 450th of 840 racers (putting me in the bottom half), 44th of 83 in my age division (ditto), and 397th of 678 men (ditto ditto).

So I’m chalking this race up to “an important lesson, painfully learned.” Next year, I’ll hit this City of Lakes – and who knows: maybe more than one race in a season! – after many, many more uphill workouts, and a least a dozen sessions of at least 25 or 30km. If I do, CoLL 2010 will be a bigger personal success than 2009 was.

Minutiae of some slight interest:

According to my heart-rate monitor, I completed my 130 minutes of skiing at an average heart rate of 161 beats per minute and hit a high of 174 (respectively, 88% and 96% of my maximum heart rate). In the first hour of racing, I only briefly saw my HR under 165. Also according to my HRM, I burned 1900 calories between the start to the finish – that’s roughly equivalent to one large thin-crust pepperoni pizza from Dominos. Snacktime!
Last year’s men’s winner, Andrey Golovko, finished in 1:13:15. This year’s winner, Bjorn Batdorf, finished in 1:22:20, 9 minutes or about 12% slower than Golovko over a slightly shorter course. My time this year was about 20% slower than last year’s time (1:48:16). Apparently the course was slower for everyone, my terrible fitness aside.
In the first 5km, I saw at least a dozen good crashes (none involving me), including at least two by the same guy, who kept trying to snowplow from a very deep tuck (the Italian-style sitdown, for those who know what I’m talking about).
This race is ridiculously well run: the course is superbly groomed and marked, the website and other printed materials are highly useful, and, most importantly, the zillion volunteers are omnipresent and wonderfully energetic.
I did get into the photo collection published online by Skinnyski.com, the Midwestern ski-racing website, though. In this shot of the third wave on the start line (i.e., before the suffering started), I’m on the left side, in bib 3100. Nice shades, huh?