Running Raw

Breakfast 7:00am – 3 hours before race start – 2 bananas

Less than 24 hours after having returned home from the Greylock Glen Snowshoe race, I found myself back on the road to compete in the 4th WMAC/Dion Snowhoes series race – Brave The Blizzard in Guilderland, NY

Upon transitioning from the winter wonderland of Vermont into New York’s more temperate Hudson Valley, a color flashed into my mind – Brown. Brown as in dead grass, leafless trees and leaf covered forest floors. Brown as in no snow. The only white to be seen were the sparsely placed, white washed colonial farm houses that decorated my morning’s drive.

I was considering turning around. My legs were pretty tired from the hills the day before, and I didn’t want to be running a trail race on frozen, uneven ground (a sure fire recipe for injury). Race Director, John Kinnicut assured me on the phone that there was sufficient snow to hold a snowshoe race. So I half heartedly forged on towards Albany. As I neared the race site, there was not a patch of white to be seen anywhere. I made a right hand turn into the elementary school parking lot and suddenly I was faced with a snow covered field. I sat in amazement for a second in my car before continuing on to the back of the school for parking. Lo and behold, there was plenty of snow behind the school as well, where the race would start and finish.

My CMS teammates Dave Dunham and Jim Johnson were just finishing their warmup as I walked towards registration. Dave told me that it was going to be a track meet out there. Super fast, hard packed conditions. Jim won this race in 2009, where he outclassed a very strong field by nearly two minutes. His streak of victories still unbroken this year, he hoped for another solid win on this flatter, faster  course.

I did a brief warmup and spotted Justin Bishop doing some strides in the field. He looked fast. Justin is one of the top runners in New York State and a 12 time gold medalist at the Empire State Games in snowshoeing. He also holds the American record in the Snowshoe 400 meter dash – 66 seconds! If anyone was going to threaten Jim’s winning streak, it was Justin. I was disappointed that I would not be able to witness the epic battle that would take place between these two snowshoeing greats.

Brave the Blizzard is one of the largest snowshoe races in the country, so I was sure that there were a lot of other top athletes in the mix today. The Albany Running Exchange, which puts on the event, boasts over 800 members, many of whom are active in the racing scene.

Jim, Dave and I did a few strides in the field as we waited for the start. I informed them of Justin’s presence and gave them a quick rundown of his resume. Jim became a little anxious.

We were lined up in the field and John Kinnicut gave us some last minute instructions. He informed us that there were a few “bare” patches out on the course and that we would be bushwhacking upon leaving the field at the start and on the return to the finish.

Ready, set, BANG! We were off. Justin shot out like a rocket propelled grenade. I was an immediately distant second. Above the loud cluster-crunching sound of hundreds of snowshoes kicking snow into the air I could hear Jim Johnson’s voice. “This is the worst race start I’ve ever had!” Then like a rabbit he shot by me in hot pursuit of Justin. Jim had no intention of staining his winning streak with a loss at this race.

When I was a kid in the early 70’s, my parents would take us to the beach on Cape Cod in Massachusetts. On one such trip, they took their eyes off of me for a moment and then looked up to discover that I had walked straight into the ocean and was about to go in over my head. I was two. Not much has changed in the nearly 40 years since that incident. I’m still getting in over my head on a regular basis. Perhaps I’m just not that bright. Whatever the case may be, I found myself sprinting to catch up to Justin and Jim.

As we left the field I had closed the gap and was right on Jim’s heels, who was right on Justin’s heels. The trail ended abruptly and we burst into the woods. Red ribbons tied to branches led us on a circuitous route up a very steep climb. We jumped over downed logs, danced around exposed rocks, straddled saplings and got whipped in the face, arms, neck and shoulders by the recoil of branches bent in front of us. I put my arms up to protect my face, like a boxer. After a few hundred feet of literally ‘breaking trail’ we were dumped out onto a more traveled route. The snow had been chopped up by walkers and skiers some time earlier and had frozen into a very solid, uneven mine field of ankle twisting possibilities. Justin did not slow down. He is a large man with broad muscular shoulders and he looked like a steam engine, confidently and effortlessly demonstrating power, speed and efficiency. Had their been anyone behind me, their view would not have been as striking. The breakneck pace was taking it’s toll on me.

The trail came to a T. A strategically placed snowman blocked the branch to the left, forcing us to make a sharp right. Brown flashed into my mind again. The path ahead was barren of snow and presented us with a mix of frozen sand and ice. The cleats of our snowshoes could not penetrate this tawny concrete, so they delivered their force upwards into the balls of our feet. Justin slowed. I moved back into contact. The sound of metal cleats bouncing off of the unforgiving trail surface rattled in my ears. The hard ground rattled my bones. In the distance, a blanket of white comfort lay in wait. We surged towards it, eager for this cacophony to end.

For the next mile, the scene remained the same. Justin commanding the lead, Jim on his heels and me holding on for dear life. Ahead of us a set of wooden stairs interrupted the smoothness of the snowy trail. Justin and Jim powered up like antelope. I lumbered up like a bison. I had bitten off more than I could chew and now it was time to digest the consequences of my earlier choices. I could only hope that I had enough in reserve to stay in 3rd as I drifted back and away from the leaders.

Letting them go took the pressure off. I relaxed a bit and began to run my own race. Who was I kidding anyways, these two men were in another league. It was time to accept the facts and settle into my rightful place. I was feeling more comfortable now and was confident that I could maintain this slower pace and hold on to my position. Fifty meters ahead of me Justin and Jim were blazing away. Forty-five meters. Forty meters. Thirty-five meters. Wait a minute… was I catching back up to them? I checked my breathing, moved it into my diaphragm, relaxed and lengthened my stride, smiled and set out to reinstate my place in the lead pack. Within minutes I was only 5 seconds back. Jim heard me coming and turned around. He didn’t like what he saw. I heard him say something to Justin and then turn around again. I was now only 4 seconds back and gaining fast.  Moments later I was on Jim’s heels.

We were coming close to the finish and Jim didn’t want another repeat sprint to the line like we had in Woodford a few weeks earlier. So he took off around Justin and made a break. Justin couldn’t keep up. For a moment, I thought about chasing after Jim but I was hurting again. The extra effort to bridge the gap had taken it’s toll, but now the seemingly indestructible Mr. Bishop was hurting as well. We hurtled through the woods with Jim quickly pulling away. Pressure was building in my stomach. My legs were teetering on the brink of failure. I was redlining.

Suddenly we were back on the bushwhack. The field and finish were in view. Jim had just cleared the woods and had entered the field. Justin picked up the pace as we headed down the steep grade through the trees. I got whipped hard in the face with a branch as I tried to keep up. I made a quick survey of the ground and then closed my eyes, lowered my head and charged forward.

As we entered the field, Justin was one step ahead. Jim was about 10 seconds up on us now and sprinting for the line. Justin opened up his gear box and pulled out his tremendous sprinting speed. I watched in awe, agony and defeat as he easily pulled away from the fastest gut bursting sprint I could muster. Seconds later we would be keeled over, breathlessly congratulating each other and sharing embraces. Jim had won by nine seconds in a time of 24:44. Justin took second in 24:53 and I posted a close third in 24:57. CMS teammate Dave Dunham would finish fourth, in 26:58.

All too often we predetermine our position in life and then act accordingly. Or we simply let others determine it for us and then do our best to meet their expectations, whether high or low. We set arbitrary limitations for ourselves and then view them as law. As fact. Any sensible person would tell you that a 41 year old Tim VanOrden, running 25 to 30 miles a week cannot compete with a 32 year old Jim Johnson running 80 miles a week… Or a 28 year old Justin Bishop, training hours a day for the World Double Decathlon Championships. Thankfully, I am not a sensible person. I have never accepted my place or rank as assigned. I always aspire to more. Nine times out of ten, I fail miserably. But it is that one time, when I rise to the occasion and beat the odds that makes it all worthwhile… and it reminds me that on any given day we are all capable of greatness – if we allow ourselves to leave our sensibility behind and risk it all for something we believe in.

Dare mighty things.

“Argue for your limitations, and sure enough they’re yours.” – Richard Bach

Although it had only been 3 days since my race up Whiteface Mtn., When Josh Merlis of the Albany Running Exchange invited me check out a trail race in the Catskill Mountains of New York I couldn’t say no. Growing up in Southern Vermont, the Catskills had always held a magical lure for me. It was the place of legends. The headless horseman of Sleepy Hollow, Rip Van Winkle, The Mohawk Indians and many others. This area is only an hour and a half from my childhood home, but I had never spent any time there.

It was also an opportunity to meet ultra running legend Dick Vincent, who was hosting the race at his house atop a cliff overlooking the Hudson River Valley. Dick is also the director of the infamous Escarpment Trail Run which is reputed to be one of the most dangerous and challenging races in the U.S.

As we all stood there bouncing around at the start receiving our directions, the race director informed us that this was black bear habitat and that we should be on the lookout to avoid close encounters. The racer to my left informed me that they had seen two bears at the very start of the race last year.

I decided to bring a camera along in the race to document the challenging nature of the course, and perhaps catch a bear in action. When the starter yelled “go” I took a mid-pack position and filmed the racers around me as we got underway. After a few minutes I picked up the pace. Josh had informed me that the course climbed over 1,300 feet in 2.25 miles, but the first 3/4 of a mile was relatively flat, meaning that the bulk of the climb would take place in 1.5 miles – a much steeper climb than I had anticipated.

The trail was a narrow single track over slippery rocks and wet leaves. Every step was treacherous. Fallen logs across the trail made the going even more dangerous. I was pushing the pace hard, using this race as a hard effort in attempt to peak for Mt. Washington in a few weeks time.

As I neared the summit I could see someone moving on the trail ahead of me. I thought they must be trying to beat me to the finish to take pictures. I was surprised at how quickly they were moving as my best effort could not catch them. It wasn’t until I burst onto the summit finding myself all alone that I realized that the person dressed in black, was no person at all, but a black bear that I had been chasing for two hundred meters.

I caught my breath standing on a cliff overlooking the valley below. The view of the Catskills and the Hudson Valley were breathtaking. It had been quite some time that I had been standing there and yet no one else had come to the finish yet. For a moment I thought I must have taken a wrong turn and was now lost. Eventually, the next runner came in, and then another and another. We all sat around sharing trail stories and taking turns sitting in the giant stone chairs that someone had carefully made near the cliff’s edge many years ago.

Upon returning to Dick Vincent’s house for post race refreshments and awards I was informed that I had broken the course record. Next year I’ll have to take the start more seriously and leave the camera behind.

Dick’s announcement of my course record, and my Running Raw jacket brought an onslaught of questions. I was more than happy to share my experience with raw foods. As it turned out, a few people in attendance had tried a raw diet, and there were a few vegans on hand as well. Overall, the crowd was quite receptive to my sharing. Even Josh Merlis became a little curious on the ride home.

When the van arrived back in Albany, I took Josh shopping for an evening snack. He told me that he had never shopped in the produce aisle before. Well, it wasn’t long before I had him eating guacamole and carrot sticks, chased down by some grapes and nectarines… baby steps, baby steps.

See the video for the High Rock Race HERE.

Yes, you read the title correctly – I snowshoed in Florida yesterday with a hundred other winter sports fanatics. Of course I’m referring to Florida, Massachusetts, just south of the Vermont border on the high Green Mountain plateau. It’s an oddly named town, as it sits at an elevation of over 2,000 feet and registers the coldest temperatures and greatest snowfall in Massachusetts. Not many retirees living up there.

This being the third race in the WMAC snowshoe series (and my 3rd snowshoe race as well), it attracted all the usual suspects. There was the legend Dave Dunham, several members of the infamous CMS (Central Mass Striders) team were on hand, and the ARE (Albany Running Exchange) showed up with an entire van-load of racers, including Josh Merlis who had won the race in Guilderland, NY on the 6th. This was the deepest field of snowshoe talent that I’d seen.

As I was beginning to warm up, a man in his late 40’s stopped me in the parking lot. He told me that he had seen my jacket at the last race and went to my website. Shuffling through a bag he had next to his car he pulled out a few bananas and an apple to show me. “It makes sense” he said, “I’m going to try eating a lot more fruits and veggies and see what happens.” he added. I chatted with him for a bit longer and then continued my warm up. It’s difficult to know how much of an impact I’m having on this journey. I often wonder if people just think I’m crazy, especially when I turn down the free doughnuts, homemade chili, hot chocolate and stacks of pancakes that usually follow these races. It only takes one person to approach me and tell me that I’ve affected them somehow to keep me going strong on this lonely road.

Two days before the race I began to feel a little off and could only many to struggle through two 2 mile runs with great difficulty. The day before the race I was feeling a little better and did a longer run, but much slower than my normal pace. I was hoping that I’d be 100% by race day. As I discovered half way through the race, I was clearly not.

The snow was what skiers refer to as “sugar snow”, small hard granules that don’t stick together and slide very nicely on eachother. It’s the kind of snow that makes for very fast runs down the slopes. It’s also the kind of snow that gives way under foot every step of the way in a snowshoe race making the effort similar to running in deep sand with snowshoes on – not something I’d advise.

My goal leading up to this race was to take the lead from the start and hold on for as long as I could. Ideally this strategy would have me win the race, but the main purpose was to learn my pace. I wanted to test myself early in the race to see how long I could endure a faster pace before breaking down.

The bell went off and I blitzed out of the start. Dave Dunham was right next to me. We were neck and neck, leading the field through the first 150 meters on a wide snow covered road. I picked up the pace to move into the lead, but Dave picked it up as well and we remained side by side as we entered the more narrow single track through the woods. I couldn’t go any faster. We were less than 300 meters into the race and I was already exhausted. I knew that I’d never be taking the lead in this race, so I tucked in behind Dave. My breathing was eratic and strained, my legs felt sluggish, but I kept up. Four racers had formed a chain behind me, with the rest of the field drifting away. The course featured several short, steep climbs and a few very long climbs. Dave was pushing the climbs hard. He would charge up each hill on the mushy snow, he was trying to lose us. I stayed right on his heels, but I was paying the price. The hills were turning my legs into sludge and I was in trouble.

Approximately one and a half miles into the 3.3 mile course, we came to a long steep climb. I tried my best to relax into it and just push forward, but I could barely pick up my legs for each step. I turned around to see the 4 racers still in the train behind me, they looked fresh. So I stepped aside and let them all pass. I stood on the side of the trail for a few seconds watching them all snake through the woods with their brightly colored spandex outfits. It looked like a festive parade, and now I was just a bystander. I started walking up the hill. Even that made me nauseated. I finally reached the top of the hill, the train in front of me was gone from sight, they were well ahead of me now. Fortunately, we were all well enough ahead, that I couldn’t see anybody coming up behind me. My goal now was to stay in 6th place. I was being optimistic.

I trotted through the woods for a good five minutes when I realized that my heart had slowed down significantly and my legs were feeling revived again. So I picked up the pace a bit – still felt ok. I crested the top of a little hill and a very long steep downhill appeared in front of me. I love downhills. Not because they are easier to run than uphills, because they are not, running downhill on snowshoes is actually quite dangerous. It’s very easy to catch a tip on a branch, tree or frozen crust and go down, but even worse is the possibility of “post-holing”. The increased weight and speed of a downhill descent reduce much of the snowshoe’s ability to keep the runner on top of the snow. Often you will hit a pocket of very deep snow that has blown over fallen logs or rocks. It appears flat from the surface of the snow, but it hides a very dangerous topography below. With three times your body weight coming down on each downhill step, it’s easy to punch a hole straight down to the bottom of the snow and in between rocks and logs – post-holing. Your momentum then continues to carry your body forward with great speed and inertia, all while your leg is now jammed into a hole a few feet behind you. It’s the perfect recipe for a broken leg of the worst kind. Despite this danger, I am an absolute madman on the downhills. I hold nothing back and do not break my speed. When I reached the bottom of this very long downhill I must have been moving well in excess of 20 miles an hour. An object in motion tends to stay in motion and that’s exactly what I did. I carried my speed as long as i could. I was refreshed. Another reckless descent put me within close sight of the 5th place racer. With newfound hope I bore down on him and caught him within a hundred yards, I was flying. Another quarter mile and I was closing quickly on the racers in 4th and 3rd place who were still running together. A slight decline in the trail gave me just enough of a crazy-man advantage to catch them. The trail had started to turn up again, so instead of passing them I tucked in behind them and waited for the next downhill to make my attack. A hundred yards ahead of us I could now see 2nd place Josh Merlis, who had won the previous race. Judging by his side to side bobble, I knew he was hurting. Slowly over the next half mile we reeled him in. I was still waiting for my downhill to make my move, But it never came. We burst out onto a snow covered road with the finish only 300 meters away. Josh had 5 seconds on the three of us who were now running side by side fighting for third place – or possibly second if our kick was strong enough. Alas the finish was a gradual uphill and it quickly brought me to a hobble as the other racers slowly edged me out. I would settle for 5th, just a handful of seconds out of 2nd place. Dave Dunham had easily won the race.

Dave joined me for my post race warmdown run. During the run Dave revealed to me how tough he thought the course was. He said he was dead out there and when he saw the train of 5 people behind him in the beginning he thought he was doomed. Perspective is an amazing thing.

The second race in the WMAC snowshoe series was held in Guilderland, NY, just a few miles outside of the state capitol Albany, NY. This is the 5th year of this event, and the first time in those 5 years that there has been snow to run on. This winter bounty attracted an excited crowd from all over the Northeast to take on this challenging 4 mile course.

Once again I showed up with my dad’s big old clunker snowshoes, hoping that the added weight and size wouldn’t slow me down that much. But as luck would have it, I bumped into Dave Dunham in the parking lot who happened to have 4 extra pair of racing shoes in his trunk – the perks of being a sponsored athlete. Dave was kind enough to lend me a pair and I was ready to go.

The Albany Running Exchange, the club that put on the race, pulled out all the stops. They had a full on snowshoeing expo in gym of the elementary school adjacent to the course. You could test all kinds of gear, get a massage, fill up on a pancake breakfast, purchase A.R.E. clothing, hang out with a snowman mascot, etc. Did I mention the throngs of smiling people? This was my kind of race.

The start of the race was through an unpacked field with about 10 inches of heavy, wet snow covering the ground. I noticed Dave Dunham meticulously walking back and forth along a single path perpendicular to the start line. What I discovered after the start, was that Dave was packing a trail for himself to use out of the gate. While we were all trampling through the deep wet snow, Dave was running on a packed trail. Now why didn’t I think of that? Despite the sludgy start, I managed to come out of the mess in second place behind Dave as we entered the single track through the woods. My goal: Stay with Dave as long as I could – he was the man to beat, or should I say, he was the man to pull me to a great performance.

The pace seemed slow to me and I was barely laboring, but we were pulling away from the pack. I didn’t want to pass as I thought maybe I’d tire out too quickly, so I just tucked in behind Dave and relaxed. Near the one mile point we were caught by another racer who joined the lead train. The three of us ran the next two and a half miles on eachother’s heels. Past a hundred cheering fans along the course, and even a young girl who was building snowmen to block the trails we were to avoid.

Dave’s shoes were a little different than I was used to and landed at a bit of an angle, which caused me to crack my ankle bones with the hard aluminum frames every 100 steps or so causing my ankles to swell and bruise. If it weren’t for my recent reading of “The New Toughness Training For Sports”, I’m sure I would have let out a scream each time it happened (note to self: wear ankle pads).

I was starting to tire. The course seemed to go on forever with no end in sight. We were told that it was a 5k, but I had a feeling that we had reached that point a while back. I could sense Dave slowing in front of me as well, and later learned that he was also wondering when this thing was going to end. He had the added burden of running the entire race with someone (me) six inches off his heels, which is a huge psychological weight to carry. Finally, the racer behind me said “on your right” as he burst around me through the deep snow. I was in no mood for a duel, so I let him in. We remained a chain of three, but now I was in 3rd. The “easy” victory that I was savoring in the early stages of the race had vanished. Two hundred yards further and the racer in the middle called “on your right” to Dave. But Dave was in a spunkier mood than I was and he sped up. He was not going to let this kid win easily, he was going to make him earn it. Dave’s increased speed was more than I could handle now, and the two of them drifted slowly away from me. Another hundred yards and the racer tried again, but this time he unleashed a fury of flying snow as he launched by Dave’s best effort to stave him off. I could see the field containing the finish line through the trees ahead, it must have been only a quarter mile to the finish. The lead runner was still sprinting and getting farther ahead of us as we entered the field. Dave kicked enough to keep me from catching back up and crossed the line in 2nd. I finished 3rd, only seven seconds behind him. The winner turned out to be the founder of the Albany Running Exchange, Josh Merlis. Had we known the course as well as he did, perhaps we would have had some extra mental steam to get us through the dragging later parts.

Goal for next race: Don’t tuck in behind anyone – go for it and see how long I can hang on to the lead.

Click HERE to see the video.