Running Raw

Tim VanOrden’s Running Raw Times – March 5th, 2010

A Huge hello to all my friends and supporters of the Running Raw Project.

In This Issue:
• The Year in Review
• 2010 To Do List
• The Race Report
• Running Raw Apparel & Lecture DVDs
• The Running Raw Buzz
• The Training Log
• Upcoming Events
• Your Support
• In Conclusion

The Year in Review?
Many people think that I live a charmed life. I get to run, hike, race, travel, talk to people and basically do whatever I want. What could be better? In many regards this is true. I have chosen to pursue something that I believe in strongly, something that I believe can make a difference. There is great freedom in that choice. But there is also great responsibility and sacrifice. Dedicating one’s life to a purpose, project or passion requires a new skill set, a new way of managing time, energy and resources. These are skills that as of yet, I do not possess. I want to say yes to it all. I want to be all that I can be… all the time. I want to test the limits of possibility. I want to help everyone. I want health and happiness to be the norm. Ironically, it is these very well intentioned desires that have always been my downfall. I am constantly creating new branches without checking to see if the trunk can bear their collective weight. Some skills take longer to develop than others.

“You can be anything you want to be. You just can’t be everything you want to be all at once. That is what a lifetime is for.” – Randy Dean

When I first started this project over four years ago, my intention was to ask questions, test limits and create a positive example. Some time ago, I dropped the veil of eternal positivity and replaced it with transparency. I believe that you can learn as much from my failures as you can from my successes. In order to be a true and valid example, one must reveal all of their light and dark. Perhaps the real value of Running Raw has nothing to do with an athlete eating an uncooked, plant based diet, but rather with the trials of someone who goes to bed every night wanting to quit, and who wakes up every morning recommitting to something he does not think he can accomplish. Whatever the case may be, you can count on me telling it like it is… Even when I look the fool.

Hardy seeds were planted in 2009, now the time has come to tend the garden.

2010 To Do List:
• Find a manager to book and organize speaking events.
• Complete a book on diet and fitness.
• Complete a recipe book.
• Get the Running Raw Team off the ground
• Begin training for the mile.

The Race Report – The Chill of Victory and the Agony of the Feet:
“By the end of roughly an hour of stumbling and gasping my way through three miles of torture, I had learned what snowshoeing is really like – melting cold snow all over your body and the hardest work you’ll ever do to “run” at a 20 min/mile pace. But it’s also a heck of a lot of fun, which is why I’m looking forward my 5th season of snowshoe racing.” – Jamie Howard, WMAC participant

The new year started off with a bang as I entered my 3rd season of competing in the WMAC/Dion Snowshoe Race Series. With 51 total races, 18 of which are points races, this snowshoe series is now the largest in the world. To my advantage, the vast majority of the points races are within an hour of my house in Southern Vermont. In fact the first race of this year’s competition took place in the mountains behind my house in Woodford, VT. An exceptionally deep field of athletes from all over New England came out to start off this series with a bang. An all out sprint to the finish with overall series champion Jim Johnson of Salem, NH, earned me a close 2nd. Time and again this season, I have proven the power of a raw vegan diet by winning two series races and earning four more 2nd place finishes. With three more points races to go, I stand in 2nd place overall behind Jim Johnson, and have the Master’s (40 plus) title locked up with eight victories.

• Crave the Blizzard Snowshoe Race
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… Read The Full Post

• Empire State Character Building
If I were to choose one sport to define myself as an athlete, it would be stair climbing. As much as I love the challenge and scenery of mountain running and snowshoe racing, neither has impacted me as profoundly as running up the dim, dusty, and denatured stairwells of America. Ironically, it is the sport that I like the least. In fact, I dread it. My relationship with stair climb races could be summed up with the following statement – It is better to have climbed than to climb… Read The Full Post

• US National Snowshoe Championships
Tomorrow, the nation’s top snowshoe racers will converge on Syracuse, NY to compete in the 10th annual US Snowshoe Championships. Snowshoe racing has become one of America’s fastest growing sports, with new series popping up all over the country. Elite athletes from many different sporting disciplines have strapped on shoes to improve their Winter fitness. This year’s championships will be the most competitive in the event’s ten year history. With such a deep field of talent, I’m hoping that my preparation is enough to earn me a spot in the top 15 overall, and top 3 in the Master’s category (40+). Anything can happen over 6.2 miles of steep, hilly shoeing in deep white fluff.

Check out the course profile HERE – Insanely Hilly!

Running Raw  Apparel Sale!!
In order to raise funds for my trip to run the Big Climb in Seattle on March 21st, I’m lowering the price of Running Raw tees to $15 + shipping until March 15th. Now you can be green, save green and help me raise green by representing the Running Raw movement with a super comfortable, super sustainable, super cool Running Raw tee. Men’s and women’s styles are available. Due to pre-shrinkage, men please order one size larger, and women order two sizes larger than you would normally wear. You can check them out here – http://runningraw.com/store.html

New Lecture DVD Available:
As per your requests, I have created a DVD of my November 2009 talk entitled “Raw Myths, Magic and Misconceptions“.

What does “raw” really mean? Why are there so many differing and conflicting views of raw? How can one be confident that they have made the right choice? This lecture covers the latest scientific research and how it applies to raw diets of all types. Many of the myths and misconceptions of a raw diet will be busted in this talk.

The price of this DVD is $10 + shipping. To purchase this or any other DVD, click this link – http://runningraw.com/store.html

The Running Raw Buzz:
• Turn back the clock. My very first Running Raw interview, reposted on GLiving – http://gliving.com/tim-vanorden-explains-the-running-raw-project/ – SOOOO much has changed since then. I actually find this interview to be quite embarrassing, but it’s always good to go back and see where I came from.
• Vegan athletes profiled – http://www.chicagonow.com/blogs/chicago-eats-allergy-free/2010/01/to-be-vegan-or-not-and-some-athletes-who-are.html
• One of the contributors of Runner’s World magazine decided to drive up from NYC and enter last week’s WMAC/Dion Snowshoe race at Moody Springs. It was the toughest race I’ve done and my hardest fought victory – http://rwdaily.runnersworld.com/2010/03/karma-is-a-cruel-mistress.html#more-2222

The Training Log:
With the arrival of Winter comes the possibility of numerous cross-training activities. Instead of the constant pounding of running on roads, a new world of soft white bliss opens itself up to those willing to take on its challenges. Although my mileage has still remained on average under 30 miles a week, the time that I’ve been putting in has increased. Instead of speedy runs on the road, I choose to put on my big Winter boots or snowshoes and slog through the abundant ‘fluffo blanco’. This type of training may not increase leg turnover, but it supplies a massive boost to strength, endurance, and core durability.

Late December saw the beginning of the WMAC/Dion Snowshoe Race Series which gave me the opportunity to get extreme, weekly workouts on snowshoes. These races have helped me to race my way into phenomenal shape in a short period of time. If you want to build mental and physical endurance for running, as well as have a great time in an inspiring landscape, strap on a pair of snowshoes and up the ante.

In the last newsletter I mentioned the inclusion of a new training regimen called Tabata. I’m happy to announce that I have maintained this difficult exercise protocol and have seen rapid and consistent improvement each week. My strength has more than tripled since beginning this program in late September. Now only two months shy of my 42nd birthday, I am having my best results yet. The future of Running Raw is looking bright.

Here is an example of what a Tabata set looks like – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-GWXsrQZ_ak

Upcoming Events:
• March 6th – National Snowshoe Championships – Syracuse, NY
• March 18th – Presentation in Seattle, WA – Diet & Peak Performance
• March 21st - Big Climb Seattle – The largest stair climb race in the world.
*** Please help me raise money for the Big Climb HERE
• March 21st – Presentation in Bellingham, WA – Diet & Peak Performance

**Possible March presentation dates in Vancouver, BC and Victoria, BC – Please check http://runningraw.com for details

Paying it Back and Forward:
Please support my sponsors Larabar, Nutiva, Blendtec, Dion Snowshoes, Garmin, Excalibur, and West Coast Labels.

Your Support:
Your donations help more than you can imagine. Even very small contributions help to pay for event registrations, travel, etc.! Thank you in advance for your support. Your generosity allows me to do what I do and hopefully touch lives in the process. You can make your donation through http://paypal.com to the address donate@runningraw.com. No amount is too little, and every dollar is greatly appreciated.

In Conclusion:
If you’re excited about Running Raw and would like to be a part of the team, please get in touch. I’m always looking for new contributors, technical help, sponsorship and enthusiastic athletes to help make this project all it can be.

Please pass this newsletter along to anyone that you think might be interested in this journey. If you have any suggestions on how to make runningraw.com better, please pass them along.

Thank you for your continued support.
With Love and gratitude

Tim VanOrden

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

Breakfast: 6am (4 hours till the start) – 24oz Green Smoothie; Kale, Banana, Blueberry, Dulse, Raw Honey and well water.

With the Empire State Building Run Up (the unofficial world championships of stair climbing) only 2 weeks away, my training has been fast and furious. Normally, I would take it easy leading up to a weekend with back to back snowshoe races, but with the ESB looming large I’ve had to push myself to the limit and beyond.

Needless to say, my legs were spent before I even toed the line in Adams, MA at the Greylock Glen snowshoe race on Saturday. Based on my performance on the steep climbs at the Turner Trail snowshoe race last weekend, I was not expecting a great result. The steep, mile long climb at Greylock Glen would be a quad buster and my quads were already busted.

This race was sure to attract a top field of athletes from around New England being the 3rd race in the highly competitive WMAC/Dion Snowshoe series. An ever increasing number of standout road and track runners have been showing up at these events looking to test their mettle in a new ‘running’ discipline. Shortly before the start, I spotted my CMS teammates,  Jim “undefeated” Johnson warming up with top master Dave Dunham and trail powerhouse Tim Mahoney. Further surveillance detected 2009 Wildman Biathlon winner Ross Krause doing sprints on the road, clad in biking attire. Out of the corner of my eye I spied a pair of lean, efficient ‘gazelles’ swiftly approaching on their warmup. As they moved closer I recognized one of them as top trail runner and track standout Greg Hammett. They stopped, we shared hellos and Greg said “do you know Mark?”. I shook Mark’s hand and then it quickly dawned on me – This was Mark Miller. The same Mark Miller that won the New England trail running championships in 2008 and 2009 and has clocked 4:02 in the mile and 14:18 for 5k. My mind started to do quick calculations and concluded that I’d be lucky to crack the top 8 in this race.

As we lined up at the start, WMAC’s Ed Alibozek gave us the pre-race details – Follow the red tape, follow the yellow arrows, do not cross the yellow tape, and watch out for the bridge crossing – there are planks missing and you could fall through. Ready. Set. Go!

Race favorite, Jim Johnson burst into the lead with Mark Miller hot on his trail. Greg Hammett tucked in behind them and I moved into 4th. The pace was very fast. The bridge crossing proved to be quite  treacherous as we danced on our snowshoes trying to miss the gaps and avoid certain injury, but yet maintain pace. Jim and Mark gradually pulled ahead. I could see them trade off the lead a good 20 seconds in front of me. Greg was falling off the pace, but was still 12 seconds ahead. Then we hit the climb.

The trail was steep. So steep that Jim and Mark were within shot put distance in front of me. Greg split the difference. Jim’s legs were working away at the mountain like two pistons firing. Mark was trying to hang on but could not keep up the run and started power walking. Greg saw this and started walking himself. I couldn’t believe my eyes. My legs were on fire, but I picked up the pace, not about to miss this opportunity. I knew the hill would be done in about 6 minutes, which is not much longer than the torturous 5 minute Tabata sets I’ve been doing in training. So I bore down, gritted my teeth and ran. I quickly caught up to Greg and passed him. He offered a breathy “Go Tivo!”. Mark was now in my sights. I was closing the gap quickly. As the trail snaked around a switchback, I glanced back and saw that Dave (King of the climbs) Dunham was making ground on me and closing the gap. I pushed harder. The trail got steeper… and steeper. My legs screamed. My stomach was doing all that it could to hold my green smoothie breakfast down. Then we burst out of the single track and onto a snowmobile trail – heading down. Mark was only 5 seconds in front of me and he was laboring.

Filled with a sense of excitement, I charged after Mark with all the speed my wet noodle legs could muster. Never had I imagined that I’d be sprinting after a legend like Mark in a race. One might imagine that running downhill is easier than running uphill. From a metabolic (energy required) perspective this is quite true, but from a muscular perspective it’s the exact opposite. The force of impact on the quad muscles while running downhill is SEVERAL TIMES the force experienced while running uphill. Downhills tear the quads to shreds as the muscles instinctively try to put on the brakes. In other words, there is no recovery for the legs. Mark kept his distance on me, but was not pulling away. Suddenly the trail pitched down at a slope of 35 percent or more. I launched myself down the hill with reckless abandon hoping to gain a few seconds on Mark who was far more cautious. When I reached the bottom of the steep pitch and the course leveled out, I did not. The intense gravitational forces of my blitz had compressed my legs and nearly drove me into a squatting position. I could not stand upright. My legs were done. I shuffled for a bit and gradually got my legs to straighten, but their strength was gone. I could hear the chatter of snowshoes behind me and then like the sound of a train going by Greg Hammett flew past. The race was nearly over, but I was really struggling. There would be no end of race kick. My wobbly legs barely got me across the bridge crossing as we headed back up to the finish line.

Jim Johnson crushed the field. Mark was nearly a minute behind him in second. Greg was third 24 seconds behind Mark and I was another 17 seconds back in 4th place. Despite a wrong turn, Dave Dunham posted a solid 5th. I was very excited to have hung on to these amazing athletes as long as I did. A 4th place finish in this field was a huge accomplishment. But the weekend was not over and come Sunday morning I’d be back on the shoes again to face off against an amazing crew of New York athletes at the Brave The Blizzard snowshoe race.

Post race: 4 bananas, 1 orange.

Results can be seen here: http://www.coolrunning.com/results/10/ma/Jan16_Greylo_set1.shtml

GPS course profile here: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/22480885 – Click the “Elevation” tab at the bottom to see the vertical profile of the course.

The rains may have washed away the snow in the rest of New England, but up on Woodford Mountain, the snow was heavy and deep. Perfect conditions for the first of the 2010 Dion Snowshoes WMAC Snowshoe Series. Speaking of deep, the roster of athletes that showed up was like a who’s who list of Snowshoe and Mountain racing in New England.

Woodford defending champion and Former US Mountain Running Team member, Josh Ferenc, jumped out to an early lead in his usual fashion. Jim Johnson (NH Runner of the Year in 2009) was not going to let Josh have it that easy and jumped right on his heels. Although the pace was very fast and the snow was sticky and wet, I positioned myself right behind Jim to see how long I could hold on.

Within the first half mile, we met the longest, steepest hill in the race. This is where Josh usually breaks away from the pack and settles in to a comfortable lead. But Jim Johnson hung tight, and despite the pace, my legs were feeling very strong and I coasted behind Jim all the way up. When we made the turn into the woods and onto the single track at the top of the hill, the three of us had opened up a nice gap on 4th place.

We wound through the trees and over rocks on the sinuous, undulating single track. Josh surged a few times, but Jim and I held on tight. I was very surprised at how comfortable I was feeling. My heart rate was low and my breathing was not labored. In the back of my mind I was waiting for the anchor to drop, I mean how could I possibly be running with Josh Ferenc? My thoughts were violently interrupted by Jim Johnson screaming “Watch out!!”. My eyes darted around, and discovered a large, sharp stake coming out of the ground and pointing right at my face. I quickly dodged to the left, narrowly missing certain facial reconstruction. My heart raced and then settled… I smiled. This was snowshoe racing.

Suddenly Josh dropped like a rag doll in front of us and made a loud thump. He had tripped and come down hard on his chest and face on a large trailside boulder. Jim and I asked him if he was ok as we went by. He said something about his face. We kept turning back to check on him, he was not getting up. We charged on. Part of me felt guilty for not making certain of his well-being, but another part was in race mode and I was not letting go of this “hell of a race” I was having.

Another mile in and we came to another climb. Jim asked me if I wanted to go by. I said no. He said he was really dogging it and was out of shape. I countered with “You’re winning the race!”. I was feeling very comfortable, especially on the climbs. Apparently the crazy Tabata leg strength training I have been doing is really paying off. Part of me wanted to pass Jim and just go for it, but another part was thinking “when is this fairy tale going to end?”.

The curiosity that had marked my start to this race – Run out front with the big boys and see how long you can hang on – Had now turned into a fearful need for security. Now that I discovered that I could run with the big boys, I was afraid of blowing the chance at a victory if I did make a surge to take the lead. So I sat on Jim’s heels. Regardless of how many times he asked me to go by, I sat there, scared to make the move.

With 3/4 of a mile to go, Brian Rusiecki, one of the top trail runners in the East, was starting to close the gap on us. As we left the single track and entered the final 300 meters on the access road, Brian was only a few seconds behind us. I was not feeling tired, and thought that I could sprint to the finish now and come out ahead of Jim. Jim had the same idea. So we sprinted like mad men for the last few hundred meters of the race and Jim’s young legs proved a bit quicker than mine, as we finished less than a second apart. It was a very exciting finish.

I race because it’s an opportunity to see who I am… Not just how fit I am physically, but how well put together I am mentally. Obstacles show up in life all the time. Sometimes we have more than enough resources to deal with them, but choose not to use those resources when needed. Racing brings this to the surface every time. It shows you your weak points. It shows you your fears. If you look closely, it shows you opportunity.

Good things to come in 2010.

After a lengthy interview with a reporter from the Wall Street Journal in the Spring of 2008 about being a vegan athlete, I suggested that he also get in touch with NFL star Tony Gonzalez. When the article went to press, I discovered that raw vegan athletes (myself and Brendan Brazier) had been eliminated and Mr. Gonzalez had become the bread and butter of the story (flax bread and almond butter). Well, a year later I was approached by a different reporter with the WSJ who wanted to do a story on snowshoe racing. It went to press this morning and the raw vegan movement was represented at last

Click HERE to read the full story in the WSJ.

In the 3 months that I’ve been in Vermont, I’ve done very little exploring in the state. So when a qualifier for the US Snowshoe Championships was scheduled for Smugglers Notch Ski Area in northern Vermont, I thought this would be a great opportunity to get reacquainted with my home state.

After a few hours of pretty treacherous winter driving, I arrived at the Smugglers Notch Nordic Center where I was greeted once again by Eddie Habeck (see previous post). We chatted for a bit, and then it was time for me to borrow some snowshoes for the race. You see, I don’t actually own snowshoes. In all of the previous races I’ve done this year, I have borrowed shoes from either Bob Dion of Dion Snowshoes or from Dave Dunham’s personal stash. Neither Bob nor Dave were at this event. A new snowshoe company located in Vermont, called TSL was doing a little demo at the race, so I approached them and asked if I could borrow a pair for the race. They were kind enough to oblige me. The first pair they gave me were made of a very lightweight composite plastic with a unique binding system that involved a sliding plate that secured your heel to the binding. Within a few steps the backs of my heels were hurting. So I asked if they had anything else I could use. They offered me a heavier pair of aluminum shoes. The second pair of shoes had the same binding system but didn’t hurt nearly as much. I thanked them and ran quickly to the start line so as not to miss the race.

When I arrived at the start, the race director, Zeke, approached me and said “you look like you might be in the lead pack, so let me give you directions for the course”. For the next 5 minutes Zeke outlined no less than 20 intersections, turns and cutoffs. I was terrified, there was no way I was going to remember all of those directions. So I chose to remember what I thought were the key elements of Zeke’s discourse – Do Not cross the 3 hemlock branches stuck in the snow of every trail that you are not to use – except one tricky intersection near the end. I was thoroughly confused, but hoping that someone else would be leading and I would just follow them. Aside from the directions, I was concerned about something else Zeke had mentioned – The first 3 kilometers were almost entirely UPHILL – climbing 1,700 feet. This was going to hurt.

As I warmed up for a few minutes prior to the start, the backs of my heels began to hurt. There was no time to change shoes now and I didn’t have any other shoes to use anyways. It was either suck it up or drop out of the race. I decided to race. The worse that could happen would be two blisters on the backs of my heels. A little Dr. Scholl’s Moleskin would take care of that and I’d be back to training a day or so after the race. I only needed to be in the top 10 to qualify for nationals, so I didn’t need to kill myself in the race. Afterall, I had been fighting a pretty tough cold for the past week and a half, that was only made worse by the two tower races earlier this week. The decision had been made – Do only what I needed to do to stay in the top 10 and not hurt myself or make my illness worse.

The gun went off and I found myself in the lead. I was running very comfortably though, so I kept up the pace. When I arrived at the first of the long climbs I charged up at a blistering pace. I wanted to test my legs and lungs, both of which felt fine when I reached the top. My lack of training over the past two weeks (due to illness and tapering for the Empire State Building stair climb), must have allowed my body the full recovery it needed because I was flying today. Perhaps I’ve been overtraining these past few months and didn’t even know it. The backs of my heels were hurting, but I didn’t pay any attention to them, I was too busy enjoying my new level of fitness. The trail turned off of the cross country ski trail we were on into the woods on a single track snowshoe trail with about 18 inches of fresh snow in it. It was tough going, but I wasn’t getting tired. Eventually, we looped back onto a ski trail and began to climb steeply again. This climb lasted over a kilometer and I flew up without slowing at all. At the summit, I turned back to see who was behind me. I was stunned, there was no one there. The trail was visible for at least a quarter of a mile, and there was no one there. I guessed that I was 2 to 3 minutes ahead of second place at this point. Even though I still had over a kilometer, and 500 feet of climbing to go to reach the top of the mountain, I knew I had this one in the bag. It was going to be my first snowshoe victory, and it just so happened to be on the longest course (8 kilomoters), with the toughest climb (1,700 feet), and in the deepest snow (18 inches) that I have competed in. I was going to prove once and for all that raw food rocks and was now determined to push even harder and increase my lead to 5 minutes or more. The pain in my heels didn’t even register anymore, all of my energy was focused on pushing the pace. The last kilometer of climbing was faster than the previous two. I was running like a man possessed.

The twists and turns along the spine of the mountain were straight forward and simple. It wasn’t until the last third of the race that things became fuzzy. Out of nowhere a blizzard engulfed the area and produced white out conditions. For those of you that live in warmer climes, a “white out” is a sudden winter storm that produces so much snow that you can only see white – visibility is reduced to only a few feet in front of you. I was winding through the woods on a virgin trail when it hit. The markings on the trees were far enough apart that I couldn’t see them in the white out conditions, so I wandered aimlessly through the trees. My pace slowed considerably, and I had to zig zag back and forth to try and find the next trail marker. It took quite some time to get through this one particular area. I burst out into an open field, the wind was howling hard and blowing drifts across the trail. The snow was at least two feet deep at this point and coming down at a rate of 5 inches every 15 minutes. It was extremely difficult to keep up a good pace. Halfway through the field I passed a sign that read 7 kilometers, I had only 1 K to go. I started my final charge to the finish, I was not yet tired and wanted to widen my lead if possible. A few hundred meters later I came to a very confusing intersection. The main ski trail that I was now on was splitting in two and a single track snowshoe trail was creating a 3rd tine of the fork to the left. A yellow arrow pointed to what I thought was the snowshoe trail which was lined with pink tape, but there were 3 hemlock branches crossing the trail. Perhaps this was the trail that Zeke had mentioned that I was supposed to cross the bows, I wasn’t sure, but the arrows seemed to be pointing down that trail, and away from the nicely packed ski trail (well, packed is relative term, the ski trail had at least 7 inches of new snow on it). I made a quick decision and headed into the deep snow of the snowshoe trail. The pink tape continued down the trail and I was confident I had made the correct choice. That lasted for about 500 meters. The trail I was on was now beginning to head uphill, and I was certain that I should be seeing the finish line at the bottom of the hill only a few hundred yards away – it was nowhere in sight. For a moment I thought of turning around, but I had already gone to far, so I continued ahead, hoping that I would hit another trail soon that would take me down to the right and to the finish. Eventually it came. I barrelled down the trail and quickly reconnected to the main ski trail that I had gotten off of. I sprinted. The storm was letting up and the finish line was now visible a short distance away. I was frustrated and upset and I ran with angry determination straight to the line. Huddled about the finish were 6 race officials with several inches of snow on their hats, shoulders, feet and in some cases beards. They looked like strange snowmen.

After I caught my breath I approached Zeke and told him of the wrong turn I had made and how confusing the markings were, he apologized and informed me that I had gone 8.4 kilometers instead of 8, and smiled as he said “you should be happy you won considering the extra distance, that’s quite an achievement.” His attempt at levity had no effect, I was not happy.

Nearly 5 minutes after I had crossed the line, the second place racer was making his final charge to the finish. I was stunned. The wrong turn had eroded my confidence and left me thinking that someone might have edged me out as they tore down the correct trail to the finish. As the rest of the field trickled in, one thing was consistently being mentioned – they had all followed my zig zag tracks through the woods where I was trying to find the trail, and had all contemplated making the same wrong turn that I did when they saw my tracks leading that way, but had all decided not to cross the 3 hemlock bows. I was the lone idiot in the pack.

I waited for Eddie to finish, congratulated him and began walking with him to the lodge. That’s when I noticed that my heels were really hurting. Even though we often run through deep snow in a snowshoe race, it is common practice to wear running shoes. They fit in the bindings much easier and they are lighter in weight than boots. BUT, your feet get very wet, cold and numb. After 5 minutes in the lodge, the numbness was wearing off and my heels began to scream. It was one of those situations where the pain was so intense that I didn’t want to know how much damage I had inflicted. I was afraid to look. When the pain had increased to the point that I could no longer walk, Eddie convinced me to take my shoes and socks off.

In the words of Forrest Gump – “Stupid is as stupid does”. When I peeled back my bloody socks, there were bloody open wounds the size of half dollars on the back of each heel. What had started as blisters had worked their way through the entire epidermis all the way down to the dermis. I had literally worn off the flesh on the backs of my heels. No amount of moleskin was going to fix this. A nurse on staff at the center got me a first aid kit and we cleaned, bandaged and wrapped my heels. Putting my winter boots back on was an ordeal, but driving 4 hours home in them was nauseating.

Later that night as I was elevating my feet and checking the results online, I discovered that the man who came in second place (almost 5 minutes behind me) was 15th at the US National Snowshoe Championships last year. He was no slouch. Interestingly, he was about 4 1/2 minutes behind the winner and National Champion. Could this be my big break and a possible shot at a national title? I’m hoping the answer is yes. Let the healing begin.

Note to self: Next race, wear snowshoes that I’m familiar with.

Click HERE to watch the video.

What goes up, must come down. The competitors in the Curly’s Record Run snowshoe race in Pittlsfield, MA this past weekend might rephrase that statement as: what goes up, up, up and still higher up, must come down, down, and very quickly down. Standing at the registration table, the air was abuzz with talk of the 700 foot non-stop climb a mile into the race. Now had this been a mountain running race, such a climb would be seen as insignificant, but snowshoeing is not running. The weight and awkwardness of the shoes combined with the challenge of running on snow make snowshoeing infinitely more exhausting. The week prior at the race in Florida, MA, a hill of only 80 feet had laid me to waste, so naturally I feared for the worst.

During a short warmup with Dave Dunham, he informed me that a very tough crowd of athletes had assembled. Top mountain runner Tim Mahoney was again on hand. National Showshoe bronze medalist and All American mountain runner Ben Nephew was there. New England standout triathlete and snowshoe racer Matt Cartier had also been spotted in the crowd, and well, then there was Dave. Dave is first and foremost a mountain runner. He’s a legend in the American mountain running scene, for his ability to tirelessly grind away at a solid pace on never ending uphills. This course was designed for racers like him and everyone else in the race knew it.

Curly’s Record Run is named in honor of Albert “Curly” Voll’s record setting downhill skiing performance on the Shadow Trail in Pittsfield State Forest back in 1944. Curly doesn’t race anymore, but he was kind enough to blow the starting whistle to get the race underway. From the start, the strategy of the other top racers was clear – get to the hill with a solid lead on Dave Dunham in hopes of providing just enough cushion to hold him off on the monster climb. Dave is not a crazy downhill runner, he prefers the ups. So to beat him to the top of the hill, or to even be close to him at the top of the hill meant certain victory for a fast downhill runner. The course started climbing almost immediately, and Ben Nephew and Tim Mahoney jumped out into an early lead. I stayed back a bit with Dave Dunham and Matt Cartier. A mile later when the “hill” came into view, it was clear that Ben and Tim were already beginning to tire. A hundred meters into the climb Ben stepped aside and let us pass. Dave took off and I couldn’t keep up. It wasn’t long before he passed Tim and took the lead. Tim was about 10 seconds ahead of me on the climb and was keeping a steady pace. I didn’t want to go after him and risk dying as I had the week before, so I kept the gap and made sure that he didn’t widen it. After nearly a mile of constant climbing we reached the top, exhausted. Dave was so far ahead that he was no longer visible. I was very excited that I had made it to the top of the hill in third place, because my forte was yet to come. Tim picked up the pace on the rolling course on top of the mountain and widened the gap a bit. I couldn’t hear anyone behind me so I stayed where I was, trying to get some strength back in my legs. That strength would be absolutely necessary to safely navigate the steep pitch of the Shadow Trail at high speed. It was after all a downhill ski run, and could prove quite dangerous if one got out of control. A left hand turn brought me to the top of the Shadow Trail. I could see Tim Mahoney about 15 seconds ahead of me, so I let it rip.

The trick to fast downhill running is to let yourself fall under control. You let gravity do the work for you as you guide your feet to the next safe landing. But with twists and turns, trees, rocks and logs to jump, that’s not always an easy task. I must have been going 25 miles an hour, as each step carried me about 20 feet down the trail. In no time I was blowing by Tim as if he were standing still. I couldn’t see Dave in front of me, but I had every intention of catching him and renaming this trail “Tim’s Record Run”. That thought lasted about two minutes, which was the amount of time it took Matt Cartier to pass me as if I was standing still. He must have been doing 30. I’ve never seen anyone run downhill that fast. I was demoralized. Even though I kept up my blistering pace, part of me was already beginning to settle in to 3rd place. It’s funny how the mind does that to you.

Somehow, I managed to make several high speed log jumps and arrived at the bottom of the hill safely. Matt was no longer in sight. With about 1.5 miles of flat and bumpy terrain left in the race a little voice popped into my head. “You beat Matt on the flats and ups already, you can do it again”, it said. The voice was right. I shifted into high gear and went after him. The sinuous twists and turns through the woods made it difficult to see anyone in front of you, but I knew he was there somewhere, getting closer with each stride. Then suddenly I saw two sticks planted in the snow next to the trail, that spelled “YI”. These sticks would have gone unnoticed by most in the race, but they were of special significance to me because I had placed them there before the race. On my warmup before the start, I had gone backwards on the course from the finish to a point 4 minutes in. I chose to mark this place as my point to begin my finishing kick. I found two sticks of interesting shape and placed them next to eachother in a way that I’d easily notice – the “YI” formation. My adrenalin rushed as I now saw the familiar sticks, the end was near, no holding back. I picked up the pace, and braced against the nausea in my stomach. Two minutes later I burst into the small field containing the finish. Dave was now visible as was Matt. I had gained considerably on them, but they were too far ahead to catch in the ever shortening sprint to the finish. I did not settle for 3rd place. I earned it.

Ten minutes after the finish I was invited to do a warmdown with Dave, Ben and Tim. Dave is a man of many lists. One of these lists contains the names of every town in Massachusetts. His goal is to run in each of these 350+ towns. Well it so happens that this race was near the intersection of four towns that Dave had never run in, so we set off on a long easy snowshoe run to help him check them off. Wait, did I say easy? Scratch that, the course that Dave had plotted on some online mapping site had us running up a logging road that climbed over 1500 feet in one solid stretch. This mind you, was taking place shortly after getting pummeled by a hill half that size at race pace. Nonetheless, it was a beautiful trek and I enjoyed the company and conversation. At the summit of the Taconic Range we were presented with a gorgeous three state view of MA, NY and VT. We stopped to reflect for a moment next to a small lake as well, where a state forest sign informed us that it was the highest lake in Massachusetts at 2,150 feet in elevation. It was beautiful. The warmdown took well over an hour. I was spent. Dave on the other hand was planning to knock off two more towns on his 3 hour ride home north of Boston. Dave is no ordinary human being, he is the stuff legends are made of.

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.

Since snowshoeing has become such a staple of my winter workouts, I thought it only natural to start entering local snowshoe races. The Western Mass. Athletic Club (WMAC) has a winter race series, with races held in VT, MA, NY and NH. The first race of the series happened to be in my backyard – Woodford, VT.

Since the warming of the climate has softened the New England winter over the last 15 years, Woodford is one of the few places in the Northeast where you can find consistent snow throughout the season. It’s a high plateau over 2,000′ in elevation that rises up from Bennington and the Valley of Vermont. Winter there is a full month longer than the already long 4 month winter in the valley below. I have been blessed to have this winter wonderland only 8 miles from my house and I’ve been snowhoe running there almost every day.

Dave Dunham, one of the top mountain runners in the country (I’ve blogged about him in the Mt. Washington and Cranmore races), encouraged me to enter the race series. He told me that it’s a great way to stay sharp during the winter months, and that many of the top mountain runners take up snowshoe racing.

So I showed up at the race with my big old snowshoes that my dad has been lending me only to notice that almost all of the 100+ racers there were using smaller racing snowshoes. After a brief conversation with Bob Dion of Dion Snowshoes (Locally made just down the road from Woodford in Readsboro, VT), he offered to lend me a pair of racing shoes for the race. I was ready to rock.

During a brief warmup with Dave Dunham, he informed me that Josh Ferenc and Greg Hammet were racing today. Greg is a top mountain runner and snowshoe racer and Josh was 3rd last year at the US Mtn. Running Championships and runs a sub 30 minute 10k. During a warmdown with another racer I was informed that Dave Dunham was the US snowshoe champion a few years back. This was not a “local” race, this baby was stacked with talent.

We lined up at the start. It was 18 degrees. Dave told me that the conditions looked fast and that we’d probably be running 7 minute miles. That sounded awfully fast to me, so I thought I might just hang back for the first mile to see how I feel and just let the top dogs go. After all this was my very first snowshoe race, what right did I have trying to stay with such an elite field of racers.

The gun went off and a snow-dust cloud erupted in front of me. I could barely see as I lurched forward to get a good position in the mass start. Unlike a foot race where it is relatively easy to maneuver around other runners in the starting mayhem, in a snowshoe race you have to contend with all the snowshoes that surround you and the snow being constantly kicked into your eyes. It’s very easy to trip or be tripped. The middle of the pack is not a place you want to find yourself in if you want to have a good race. So I managed to dodge the runners around me and I headed to the side of the trail. The snow was deeper there, but at least I could see better and I could accelerate. The lead group of 4 was already well in front. I pulled up and around the main crowd and started my pursuit of the lead pack. A half mile into the race we came to a long steep uphill which slowed most of the racers down significantly. This is where I made my move. Taking shorter strides and increasing my tempo I started to gain on the man in 4th place. A few hundred yards further, where the windy and narrow single track began I had caught him. I could no longer see the Josh Ferenc in the lead and Dave Dunham and Greg Hammet were barely visible in the woods ahead. I was feeling strong and wanted to pick up the pace but the trail was very windy and too narrow to pass. I feared that if I went into the deep snow on the side of the trail that I might fall or run into a tree, so I just sat on the heels of the racer in front of me not knowing what to do. If I were the aggressive type I probably would have just told him to get out of the way, but I’m thoughtful and considerate and didn’t want to inconvience him. After about a mile of tailing him, the racers ahead were long since gone from view and well ahead of us. The man in front of me finally turned around and said “do you want to go by?” I said “yes” and quickly moved passed him as he stepped aside. I picked up the pace significantly. At one point I came to a poorly marked 4 way intersection that had me stopped for a good 10 seconds as I tried to figure out which of the equally trampled trails was the right one. I thought of waiting for the man behind me to catch up so that he could assist me, but then I noticed an orange ribbon on a branch above me about 8 feet high – not where you are looking when you are navigating tricky terrain. Angered, I charged forward eager to make up for lost time. The snow was a bit harder on this part of the course and it allowed me to run even faster, so I did. With about half a mile to go, I could see the blue shirt of Greg Hammet ahead of me, so I picked it up even more. As we came into the final quarter mile straightaway we were neck and neck. It would come down to the final sprint to the finish. Dave Dunham was visible as well now about 200 meters ahead of us. I sprinted as fast as I could, but Greg beat me to the finish line. I finished in 4th place. What an awesome race, and a great learning experience. I’m hooked.

My strategy next week: Get a better start. Run with the Big Dogs.

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