Two years ago I went into this race looking for a good performance having had some decent results during the season. Granted, the field was not deep then but I managed 9th and walked away very satisfied. As you know from reading here over the past 2 months, I have prepared very methodically and, well, hard for this event. Still, I did not harbor any delusions of this 49 year old whooping ass on the best field North America has to offer. I would have loved to have been surprised. But let's face it, I prepared in a time-tested fashion, using training techniques that have served me well for decades. There is no reason why anything extraordinary should have come of it. And, well, it didn't.
Assessing one's performance in an event like this is difficult. The temptation to be disappointed because you did not stay with so and so is strong. And if you try to ignore these comparisons, what are you really left with to judge your race? You can't really use a time standard like you can in a 10K. Even if it's the same course year to year (which it isn't) conditions vary so wildly that such measures are useless.
So, we are left with, hopefully, honest introspection about our own sensations during the race. That and, perhaps some data evaluation generated by our fancy shmancy wrist computers which, really, is just scientific entertainment for those of use prone to looking at that sort of thing. That's what I have done.
Race day dawns
Conditions for this year's event were pretty good, for the most part, with good coverage and reasonable temperatures at the start. Things got a little Western up high as the day went on with big winds and poor visibility challenging racers at the transitions and during the descent from Corbet's. There was no powder or coral reef skiing this year so, for the most part, we were grateful. On the other hand, the wind and cold at the top of the course made things a little desperate for some. As I ripped skins next to Corbet's Cabin the juxtaposition of racers and skiers was interesting. I mean, it was full-on nuclear winter up there with 40mph winds, blowing snow and sub-zero temps. Skiers were fully bundled with googles and down jacket hoods covering every millimeter of skin. Racers, on the other hand, were in Lycra and spring gloves. Damn funny!
And we're off!
Lining up was the deepest field to ever be assembled in North America for a ski mountaineering race. Nearly 50 racers in the Race Category and some 40-odd other racers in various categories. The start was the usual ape shit sprint. The first 700 meters or so were very low angle so slippery skins and good technique kept the pace high. Once the pitch steepened, and it got plenty steep on the groomed corduroy, things started to string out. Two lead packs developed with the rest of us finding our place in the long line.
I knew early on there would be no pleasant surprises and I guessed that 20 racers, or so, were ahead of me. The first 1,500 feet were pretty constant and taxing. A couple of my peers that I usually battle with showed up from behind and overtook me. Then, the thing my fragile, aging, male ego dreaded most of all, I got "girled"...twice! Yep, two bad-ass females came up and passed me before we hit the long, traversing cat track section. Once there, I took back a few of places I had lost, including the two women, and stayed with one of my competitors that I battled with but ultimately lost to by the end. Still, we traded blows all day.
Brandon French leads the bunch. Photo: Mark Gocke
The long cat track section interrupted with a short off-piste skin dropped us at the top of the 40 degree, narrow, bumped-out Alta Chute. A few large rocks in the middle kept us on our toes as we tried to avoid ripping the edges from our $1,200 race skis. This deposited us at the bottom of another technical skin through the woods, taking us to the top of Tower 3 Chute, another steep-ass bump run. I skied both of these runs non-stop and without incident sensing that at least part of my preparation was effective.
Jon Brown battles deteriorating conditions. Photo: Mark Gocke
From the bottom we skinned through the woods a short ways and then on a longish cat track section to the Gondola and the Headwall booter. The weather was really cranking at the top of the headwall where I ripped skins a bit early, the head wind thwarting my efforts to skate along the ridge top. From there we headed down a short pitch called Coomb's Run and then over to the second to last skin from the Cirque, through Tensleep Bowl and up to the notorious booter in Corbet's Couloir.
Into the tempest
Corbet's is the coolest feature on this great course. It's long and steady with a ladder climb at the top. The wind howled down it this year so I did not get to look around much. I was also noticing my fingers freezing to stumps and started wondering if I would get frost-bitten before the day was over. Holding your hands above your heart as you pole plant does not help circulation. I noticed the guy in front of me climbing with his hands held low and poles under his arms so I knew I was not the only one struggling here.
Climbing out of the top we were blasted by heavy winds and blowing snow. It was actually quite desperate. This was tempered by the unexpected enthusiasm from the large crowd of volunteers and spectators greeting racers as they exited. Lot's of cheering and cow bells were the order here. Awesome!
Corbet's in full Scottish conditions! Photo: Mark Gocke
Yeah, not so much fun in your underwear!
We left skins on and skinned up the final couple of hundred meters to the very top at Corbet's Cabin. The structure gave us some reprieve from the wind allowing us the fold and store skins without trashing them. Down we went, blindly across Rendevous Bowl and feeling our way through the whiteout. The bumps were not bad but I ended up getting stuffed by a wind drift, landing heavily on my stomach and popping out of both heels. I felt like I just got kicked in the nuts but got up quickly and grunted my way toward the short but technical descent of Central Chute. There I got high-sided on a steep bump and crashed again, this time wrenching my neck with some tasty whiplash. What a beatdown!
I recovered during the high speed groomer across the bottom of Sublette and dropped off the cat track onto Sublette ridge, bracing myself for the quad burning descent to Union Pass Trail. I skied this well without stopping and came to the final skins-on transition right behind a couple of guys I had not seen for awhile. Again, my descending was gaining me time on some competitors.
One more time
The final climb was an unknown to me, being added last year when I did not participate. For some reason I thought it was 800 feet instead of the 1,500 it turned out to be. This was fairly technical, off-pisted skinning through small moguls all the way up. There was a good battle with 3 of us within 30 seconds of each other and we all passed one poor soul who clearly bonked with 10 minutes to go. Although I was close, I never really threatened the other two. My last chance to challenge vaporized when I went the wrong way down the final descent, straying into the wrong gully too far South, correcting my error near the bottom and avoiding, at least, being passed from behind.
Final thoughts
Trying to salvage something from my 22nd place I realize that I felt strong on the last climb and was at least hunting for those other two guys the whole way up. That tells me something about the depth of my fitness and my nutrition during the race. The interesting thing was watching my threshold heart rate drop over the course of the race. When I figure out how to down load the graphs from my computer to this blog I will share the data. Clearly, I burned through most of my glycogen early on and had to throttle back tapping into free fatty acid metabolism to fuel the second half of the race. More on that later.
It would be easy to be demoralized by my low placing. I have no real rulers to measure against. On the other hand, I was mixing it up with the same guys I have historically battled with. I also managed to stay ahead of some strong women (barely!). Those are the only two metrics I can use. Conclusion... I was pretty good (for me) but not great.
One silver lining that came out after the race was seeing the liners of my race boots finally disintegrate to the point that I ordered some new boots from Telemark Pyrenees. Now THAT is exciting on a number of fronts.
Time to reinvest!
A huge shout needs to go out to Forest Dramis and crew for putting on the best skimo race I have ever attended. The course was amply marked and the volunteers ruled the day! With quality events like this the sport is bound to continue to grow.
Epilogue
Speaking of gear, although I try not to name names in these reports out of respect to others' privacy, I feel compelled to break that rule for Luke Nelson, really the revelation of the day. Talk about a break out performance. This is a guy with a strong, La Sportiva-sponsored trail runner background who is in his fourth year of skimo racing. He is also someone that has historically been behind me. Not anymore. He was in the podium hunt all day and succeeded in placing 3rd overall and was the second American. If the winner was not such a savage descender, Luke may well have found himself National Champion. I mention gear here because he honestly believes that stepping up for the best race shwag (carbon boots, etc.) is, at least, part of the reason for his ascension through the finishing order. Yeah, that and great genetics, dedication and thoughtful training. More to come from him, I'm sure. Chapeau, Luke!
