Last night at 6:15pm I started the longest ski race I've done in five years, a 30K skiathlon comprised of four classic loops and four skate loops on different 3.75K courses. TOUGH courses. Significant climbing on each loop and on the classic loop, a sugared-out mandatory herring-bone section on the steepest section. Going into the race my goals were somewhat simple: don't bonk, don't blow up, finish as strong as you can. Out of the start I tried to stay conservative; my classic skiing has come a long way this season but I'm still more confident in skating, so wanted to ensure I had decent energy left for the second 15K of the race. The pace was obviously fast and I sought out a good middle-pack position to ski in. Coming through on the lap I felt a bit laggy, but that soon receded as I warmed into the race. By midway through the second lap I had found myself in a solid pack that would remain together for the rest of the race. We pushed each other well and overtook several skiers along the way. It was good for me to have faster classic skiers to go along with because it forced me to constantly be evaluating technique as we went. Entering the third lap of our classic leg I started to get the inkling of the gremlin in the works: cramping. Not so much on climbs (though my triceps were complaining a bit) but on corners where I was making hard skate turns. When doing so, my groin and quads would momentarily cramp. You can basically imagine the scene as me coming through a corner, strong skate push-off followed by a frantic wiggling and ski-pole massage of my legs to loosen them. This happened several times. I was feeding every lap, taking a bottle from my sprint partner Erik who was sitting out this 30K. I had mixed about five packets of Hammer Gel and 10 Endurolyte capsules' worth of powder into a quart of water. I told Erik after the race that he became a sort of Santa Claus for me - every time I came through the lap I saw a bright shining glow around him and greedily grabbed the bottle to suck down that mighty elixir.
In the transition zone, where you basically and as fast as you can switch skis and poles to skate gear, I managed to get away quickly, but about 7 seconds off the lead transition time. Then 200m down the course...SEIZE! CRAMP! BAH! My entire body twisted and cramped in complete agony. Cursing the gods I sought to drag myself up the first of two long climbs on the skate course, without the use of my arms or legs. At that point I was begging the feed I had taken three minutes earlier to surge into my bloodstream, injecting it with enough sodium to reinvigorate and re-oxygenize (is that a word?) my muscles. A few minutes later it did, and I rocketed away feeling revived. The skate leg went much better and I saw myself gradually gaining time on a pack of skiers ahead of myself and a Canadian Devo team skier I had been racing with. In our last lap I sought to make a final push to regain that group but the cramping was beginning to return and, for fear of another complete body shut-down I had to reserve a bit on the climbs. But by the time we got to the bottom of the climb into the stadium I knew it was all in, and I threw down the hardest sprint I could, v2ing up and out of the climb and through the stadium to finish 40th.
Like the classic race, this numerical result holds little value for me. My success in this race lies in my successful mental preparation and race head which I was able to maintain. This week has been a breakthrough for me in terms of racing mindset and I left last night with a bittersweet feeling of completion. The season is over, but in a month I get to begin training again. Training harder, more smartly, more focused. With purpose.
Feeling rather wired after racing until 8pm last night I was reluctant to go plop myself onto a couch, so Erik and I crashed a punk rock concert on campus until 11pm. After about four rounds in the mosh-pit I started to feel cramping again...should've brought someone to feed for me...
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