Category Archives: Keeping Fit

Exercise and Silent Sports

Skis, Snow and Wind in Mora

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As the Mora Vasaloppet cross-country ski race approached, and snow did not, we carefully monitored the race news.  The lack of snow forced race officials to move the course to Knife Lake, which meant shortening the races and looping around the lake’s perimeter on a trail created on top of the ice, rather than skiing through the woods.  Fortunately, there was just enough snow to cover the last 13k from the lake to Mora,  allowing the race to finish on Main Street.  And compared to last year, when it had to be cancelled completely due to lack of snow, we were grateful that the race was on!

In stark contrast, the weather report for race day included a Winter Storm Warning which predicted 8-12″ of snow and increasing winds throughout the day.  Would it really materialize?  Or would it fizzle, as so many snow forecasts seem to do these days?  Only time would tell.

Rich Mora Classic Race

photo courtesy of SkinnySki.com

We were relived to find that the snowfall had not yet started when we made our way to Mora in the early morning hours before the race.  But the threat was still there.  Rich was the first to make his way to the starting line, as his classic race started an hour before the skate race that Erik and I had entered.  As his race was only 26k and included just one loop around the lake, Rich was within 5k of the finish line before the snow started.

Erik and I did not fair as well.  One of Mora’s signature features is the line of huge bonfires near the start, to keep skiers warm while waiting for the race to begin.  Standing there next to the lake, we could feel the fury of the wind as it whipped across the lake.  Indeed, the announcer confirmed our suspicions informing racers that the first 7k around the lake would be directly into the wind.  Oh boy…

Erik

photo courtesy of SkinnySki.com

By the time we started, so had the snow.  Big fat flakes came down that looked pretty in the distance, but in reality whipped into our faces like pin pricks and stung our eyes.  Skiing into the wind was like pushing against an immovable force.  That was compounded by the powdery, sugary snow we plowed through on the trail they had created.  The depth and consistency changed frequently, with ice showing through at times, making forward progress inconsistent.  Add to that being blinded by the snow, and it was like skiing into the unknown!

Relief came when we turned toward the opposite shore and rode the wind back to the beginning of the circle.  Minutes lost earlier were made up sailing in front of the blast, and we had some relief from the snow in our eyes.  It was even enjoyable.  But our euphoria didn’t last.  We’d signed up for the longest race, which although shortened to 40k meant two laps around the lake.  Soon we were battling the gale once again, convinced it was stronger and snowier than the first time around.  A skier next to me asked “When will this hill ever end?”  Despite the flat terrain of the lake, I knew just what he meant!  The lake was obliterated by the snow, and the tracks swept by the wind.  With the skiers spreading out, I found myself on my own hoping I was still following the right course.

Eventually we made it off the lake for the final 13k to Mora.  That final section was on the local ski trails, and we had to retrain our legs to go up and down real hills.  The woods were a welcome wind break, although the snow continued to find us, adhering to our bodies, hair and eyelashes.

Mora Finish LineThe end of the Mora Vasaloppet is always a thrill, and despite the conditions, this year did not disappoint.  One final hill takes skiers up to an old schoolhouse, and then it’s a short ski down Main Street to the finish line.  There women in traditional IMG_9551Swedish costumes hand out medals, and locals dish up their famous blueberry soup.  There’s nothing like it – hot and sweet!  I looked like an icicle by that point, but no matter – I finished.

 

 

Thank you to SkinnySki.com for the above two photos.

Let the race season begin!

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It’s February, and that means race month on our calendar. Each weekend we have a race or ski event scheduled, all leading up to the biggie… the American Birkebeiner. This year our son, Erik, is also joining us. After a 4 year hiatus following his high school Nordic ski team days while attending a college in non-snow territory, he has eagerly returned to the ski trails.

Today we successfully kicked off the race season. The City of Lakes Loppet in Minneapolis was the venue, and the recent cold snap and fresh snowfall made it possible at the last minute to run the races on the full course – hallelujah! The day dawned sunny and cold, just barely above zero, with moderate winds – all in all, a great day for a race.

Rich is a die-hard classic skier, and for this race Erik chose to go head-to-head with Rich in the 25k Classic race. Their race started earlier than mine, so they were off and skiing before I even got to the race venue for my skate race. Which would it be – age and experience, or youth and brawn?

I’m still pretty new to racing. I took up skate skiing about 5 years ago, and I’ve chosen that ski style for racing. I’m not as hard core as the guys, but my own sense of competitiveness comes out even I’m just racing against myself.

Betsy, Katie and Molly before the start

Heading out to the start line, it felt great to be out in the crisp air and the bright sunshine lent a sense of warmth. Suddenly, I was surrounded by Erik’s girlfriend Katie and her mom – they had stayed on after the classic race to see me off! What a thrill, to have my own support team – my spirits were boosted immediately.

Despite the lack of snow this winter, the race organizers did a phenomenal job of preparing a great racecourse. The trails were well covered and I would never have predicted we would have such good conditions – the snow was firm and not at all crusty. It was a slow snow due to the cold temperatures, but I was willing to trade some glide for a nice racecourse.

The start of the skate race

The race starts out on a golf course, and in the open areas we could see the trail looping head of us, lined with skiers trekking up and zooming down the hills. It wasn’t always comforting looking ahead to see the hills in store. Similar steep grades awaited us in the woods of the nature area, but the beauty of the trees helped distract us from the extra effort required. Once we reached the lakes – for which the City of Lakes in known – it was all flat. Soon we were whizzing around the perimeters near the shore making great time.

Molly and Erik at the finish

This year the finish line moved to a new location, and brought a whole new dimension to the race. We had always skied down a boulevard to the finish line, but this time it was moved to a city street – we skied one whole kilometer down the street then turned onto Hennepin Avenue in the midst a popular section of town. Just before the turn, my fan club reappeared! Katie, her mom and now Erik were there cheering me on with great enthusiasm and volume, carrying me through to the finish. They had stuck around in the cold just waiting for me to finally make my appearance. What a heartwarming ending!

And the results of the races? Youth triumphed as Erik rapidly outpaced Rich in the classic race. And I beat myself, bettering my previous time by 8 minutes.

We’re all psyched for the next race!

Finding Real Winter

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My usual routine on our ski trips is to get up early and ski before breakfast.  I love being outdoors early and “earning” the big feast always served at a B&B.  But with the winds howling, snow covering the roads and temperatures dipping below zero, it seemed prudent to modify that plan!  The acres of woods surrounding the B&B presented the optimal alternative – snowshoeing.  Susan and I bundled up in our warmest clothes, strapped on our snowshoes and trundled off through the deep soft snow.  The conditions were perfect.  Untouched fluffy snow blanketed our path and clung to the tree branches all around us.  No IMG_9494matter that we lost the trail after while and meandered in a crooked route around bushes and over logs.  We were protected from the wind and enjoyed soaking up our surroundings.  Only our noses got cold, and by the time we returned to the warmth of the B&B, we were good and ready for that hearty breakfast.

By the time afternoon rolled around, the wind had moderated and temperatures rose to a balmy 4 degrees above zero.  For our final ski of the weekend, we headed back toward Bayfield and stopped at Mt. Ashwabay Ski Area.  Because it was so cold, we chose to ski separately so we could each chose our own pace and not have to linger in the cold waiting for each other.  I eagerly chose my skate skis while Susan stuck to classic skiing for this outing, but I soon regretted my decision.  Once again, the grooming reports were on the optimistic side.  We were told that the trails were all groomed, but we neglected to ask “when?”  It soon became apparent that the answer was “before the last snowfall.”  While the classic tracks were nicely packed by earlier skiers, the skate deck was marginally used and full of fresh cold (read slow) snow.  As Susan glided along the smooth tracks, I forced my skies through the deep snow, chagrined that I was barely keeping ahead of her.

IMG_9506I can’t really hold the conditions against the ski area.  After all, we’d been praying for new snow, and boy did we get it!  And they were doing their best with limited resources.  Putting that aside, the trails were very pretty and the scenery improved even more when the sun peeked out mid-afternoon.  It was the first we’d seen of the sun all weekend, and it was a welcome addition.  As we were once again skiing around a downhill ski area, it was no surprise to encounter hills – steep ones this time.  I labored up those hills, and had to skate down them to keep my momentum going.  At one point, I reached the top of the chairlift and had no choice but to snowplow down a ski hill to reach the next section of trail – an interesting twist to the route.  Nearing the end of the day, my mind must have been as numb as my body was tired when I read the sign that said “Chalet 12k.”  I knew I didn’t have it in me to go that much farther, much less beat the impending dark.  So it was with great relief that upon closer inspection I realized it actually read “Chalet 1.2k” – whew!  Enough skiing for one weekend.

Nordic Walking – on Skis

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I have to remind myself that skiing with a friend is not the same as training for the Birkie. The trails we ski are not the highly groomed, fast and populous areas where I put in mega kilometers and really push myself for technique and speed. And today was a prime example.

We chose the Porcupine Mountain Wilderness Area for today’s skiing. It’s perched on the edge of Lake Superior, and in the last few years they haven’t had good snow for cross-country skiing. Since the recent snowfall blanketed the Porcupines, we decided we should take the opportunity to try their trails.

It soon became clear that we were in a wilderness area, not a ski resort. The ski chalet reminded me of ski trips in my youth – rustic fireplaces and simple tables surrounded by families picnicking from coolers. Their definition of trail grooming was a bit loose. Yes, they were packed, but despite the designation as a classic ski trails, there were no classic tracks. We had a firm surface for skiing, but missed the solid tracks to keep our skis from slipping sideways.

Skiing through the woods, we saw side trails off to rustic cabins. We encountered one couple hiking through deep snow in the woods, searching in vain for their cabin, and hoping we could direct them. We’d passed it earlier on, and were happy to help. Further up the trail we saw a tent – sure enough, winter campers. We didn’t see many people out on the trails, but the footprints told us we were sharing the trail with hikers and shoeshoers.

We first headed out on the trail that parallels Lake Superior near the shore. It was quiet and pretty. The closer we got to the lake, the more moisture in the snow, which made it sticky. Add that to the other trail conditions, and this was going to be a slow ski.

The winds were forecast to increase all day long, and it was blustery near the lake. The thick snow on the trees was whipped through the air and it felt like skiing through bouts of blizzard. The best part of that trail was the short section where we could see the lake. It was already stirred up, and waves were crashing in on the rocks.

The more extensive trails wind around and behind the ski hill. We assumed that meant steep inclines, but were pleasantly surprised to find the trails were nicely undulating. They wove through the woods and the snow coverage was deeper there than near the lake. It was beautiful skiing.

The afternoon slipped by quickly, but the kilometers did not. Forward movement was earnestly earned by the effort required to overcome the stickiness of the snow. It felt more like walking at times. Nordic Walking with poles. But on skis. It was not Birkie training. But it was definitely an endurance workout. In beautiful surroundings.

The Right Conditions

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It hasn’t been the best winter for snow.  But not the worst either.  We need only think back to last year to know that.  So far we have been fortunate to be able to find ski trails with reasonable snow and eek out our kilometers as we train for our February line-up of long distance races.  The City of Lakes Loppet, Mora Vassaloppet, Book Across the Bay and American Birkebeiner define the month – every weekend is committed.  It’s those 50+ kilometer races in particular that keep us going, adding to the length of our longest ski each week.  Just like marathon training, that “long ski” is needed to built up our endurance for the big race.

Despite the kilometers I’ve put in, the results have been less than stellar.  I just haven’t felt things click, and my times continue to linger over 5 min/kilometer.  While that’s not exactly a lightning speed goal, it’s my goal and I cling to the desire to finish the Birkie in under 4 hours again.  But it has seemed very elusive this year.

Until now.  Finally, a day of perfectly wonderful skiing!  Not only was the sun shining, the sky blue and the wind moderate, but the trails were in terrific condition!  Being out reasonably early on a weekday morning definitely has its advantages.  I skied on nearly virgin corduroy, enjoying the fresh grooming and good snow coverage.  And I realized the benefit of firm, wide and stable trails – they promote good skiing!  It makes a big difference having a reasonable base to smooth out the bumps, and plenty of width to skate ski.  I was so pumped it was an easy decision to make that my long ski for the week.

The multi-use trails were also in pristine condition.  Normally I shun those trails, with too many footprints and dog tracks trampling the snow to make them attractive.  But this day they lured me away from the ski trails.  I had no idea where I was going!  I skied and skied, wondering just where I would end up, yet sensing that they were vaguely familiar from cycling the bike trails last summer.  I admit that they were only mildly undulating and unchallenging, but infinitely enjoyable as I racked up the kilometers.

Forty kilometers later, I skied to my personal finish line.  And best of all, I finished in well under 5 min/kilometer.  Hallelujah!  What a boost to my confidence and morale.

Naturally, I can’t assume we will have perfect conditions for all those races.  But a few more days like this one will go a long way toward feeling like I just might have the right stuff to go the distance.  So come on, Mother Nature, bring on the snow!

A Classic Day in the Woods

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The ski trails had not been groomed.  I know, I went over to check.  Twice.  With all that new snow, it seemed there was enough for skiing, but without grooming it was too deep for skate skiing.  There were decent classic tracks, forged by a number of skiers out ahead of me.  So I was left with little choice.  If I was going to ski today, it had to be classic.

Ever since taking up skate skiing, it’s been my favorite for workouts.  I just don’t have the solid technique nor the desire to press hard when doing classic skiing.  So instead, I reserve it for recreational skiing with friends or going out in the woods to enjoy the scenery.  I just didn’t know that today was meant for that type of skiing.

As soon as I set off, IMG_9348I could feel the magic.  The snow was soft, with plenty of coverage, and the tracks were decent.  The silence of the woods descended on me as I glided through the snow.  I didn’t need a workout, I needed to enjoy the surroundings.  It was slow going in the new snow, but that meant more opportunity to enjoy the scenery.

It was mid-afternoon but since we are zeroing in on the shortest day of the year, the sun was low in the sky, sending long shadows across the trail.  The sky was a brilliant blue, providing a beautiful canopy over the snowy scene.  And the sunshine felt good on my back.  Lester River was gurgling under the snow and ice and provided a nice vista as I worked my way uphill.

As the afternoon progressed, the sun lit the treetops on fire.  Soon following, the sky itself began to glow and silhouetted the trees in the foreground.  I desperately wanted to capture it in a photo, but my camera battery had long since succumbed to the cold and complained when I tried to turn on my camera.  A mental picture would have to do.  Perhaps it was for the best – it was cooling down quickly, and my willingness to take off my mitts to handle the camera was quickly evaporating.

Maybe they will groom the trails tonight.  I hope so.  But now I’m glad I had a classic day in the woods.

Early season skiing

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Sometimes a little restraint is required. My husband, Rich, is a fanatical cross-country skier. He can't wait for the season to begin, and bolts out to the nearest trail at the first sign of snow. His spirits are impossible to dampen, and he relishes nothing more than being the first out on the trail. I have learned to interpret his early season enthusiasm with a dose of skepticism, however. His glowing reports of that first ski often come with skinned knees, new gouges in his rock skis, and harrowing tales of catching a rock going downhill.

My own forays out on the trails are attended by a greater dose of caution. Why is it that I think I won't remember how to ski? Why is it that my first venture of the season finds me flailing and struggling to find that elusive sense of balance? Never mind that the trails are ungroomed and that my skate skis are ill suited to the untamed powder in the woods. That first ski is never pretty.

Skiing ungroomed trails

This year's first outing was no exception. I let myself be talked into skiing the first snowfall on trails that reportedly had been rolled. In reality, hikers and dogs and tromped and stomped all over the trail, leaving it barely navigable on skis. Come to find out, we had mixed up trail names and were in the wrong place.

With another two inches of snow overnight, I decided I was willing to give skiing another shot. This time I headed to the right set of trails, and although the new snow obscured any previous grooming, it also erased the heavy wear from the previous day. Unfortunately, when I arrived so did two carloads of adults and kids with dogs who eagerly bounded out onto the trails ahead of me. Early season skiing certainly has its hazards. Without groomed tracks, trespassers on foot are oblivious to the errors of their ways. Forging on, I soon left the hikers behind and found I was enjoying myself. The woods were quiet and pretty in their new blanket of snow, and the trail was unchallenging but very skiable. I had no idea where I was going, having never been on the trail before, but it wasn't difficult to follow and I easily made my way around the figure eight loop for 2.8k of fun. So much so that I did it three more times. With each repetition, my rhythm improved, my technique began to return, and at times I even felt quite competent. I didn't exactly break any speed records, nor did I get the workout of my life, but I was out skiing.

Hopefully I now have the flailing behind me.

It’s a Shoe-In

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The UPS guy just deposited the package on our doorstep – my new running shoes are here!  And with that, I leave behind my conservative self and enter the age of brilliance.  Not brain power, footwear.  I don’t know when or where this trend started.  I admit to running my old shoes well past the recommended number of miles, erstwhile ignorant of new offerings on the market.  I did see the occasional runner in blinding foot colors, but passed it off as weird.  Then my daughter replaced her running shoes and found that ordinary color-trimmed white was no longer an option, and came home with deep purple.  She admitted to feeling a big funny when her feet came into view and shocked her with the color.  But she compensated by coordinating with a purple top.

Next my son, Erik, updated his footwear.  “Come see my new running shoes, Mom” he said.  I was unprepared for his unveiling – he bought those goofy looking rubbery foot booties (my terminology), complete with individual toes.  In his terms, they look a bit like skeleton feet, and was disappointed they didn’t have the more colorful version.  But he swears by them, particularly for trail running.  No matter, I don’t do trail running.

When I finally broke down and anted up the price for my own new shoes, I admit that my favorite model still came in white with aqua trim.  It would have been the easy way out.  But something about those colors enticed me.  Why not?  Shocking pink with black trim.  It’s so not me.  Or is it?  Too late to back out now.  I hope they don’t clash too much with my other running gear.

Fickle Fall Weather Workouts

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It’s in-between season.  I feel like my workouts are a patchwork of activities.  Some days it still warms up enough to go for a long bike ride.  Given the right layers, I can stretch “warm enough” quite a ways.  The difficult part is having the patience to wait until later in the day when the sun has done its work. I’m within 100 miles of hitting 4,000 miles of cycling for the year, and I’m determined to get there.  Not bad for my first year of cycling.

Running is always a good staple.  I’m used to running year round.  I’m putting more miles on my running shoes these days, trying to get back that old endurance back.  I hate to admit it, but these days I consider I’ve had a good run when I maintain 9 minute miles.  Sad when I remember what I used to do, but I remind myself to accept aging gracefully.

If it’s really ugly, I hit the pool.  I have resumed my Y membership after putting it on hold for the summer, hoping to rebuild some upper body strength.  Those first few sessions in the pool were killers – why did I think it was okay to stop swimming for 6 months?  The payoff is in the locker room, though.  My faithful early morning buddies are there, and it’s great to see them again.  My friend Louise is my inspiration – 20 years older than me, and she works out every single day.

And what’s all this for?  Why cross-country ski season, of course!  Our registrations went in for the big races long ago – City of Lakes, Mora and the Birkie beckon, snow willing.  February is not all that far away, and I’m anxious to get out on my skis.  Not much I can do about it until the snow falls, though.  I’m not about to break my neck attempting roller skis.

We have vacation time coming up Thanksgiving week.  If we hear of snow within driving distance, it’s likely we’ll go find it.  If not, we’re talking about heading a bit further south and substituting a cycling trip.  After all, we can be as fickle as the weather.

The Road less Traveled

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I wanted to go up the North Shore.  The leaves were peaking and I had my heart set on cycling alongside the beautiful blue lake in contrast to the brilliant yellows and oranges.  But Rich had other ideas.  My first clue was the slip of paper left on the kitchen counter the night before with cryptic notes that I quickly identified as a bike route.  Just not my route.

The day dawned clear and bright – the perfect fall day for a bike ride.  We left early and picked up my friend, Myra, and her bike then Rich broke the news I’d feared.  “We’re not going up the shore.  I figured out a better route.”  And sure enough, we headed in the opposite direction.  Myra was more flexible and gracious than I was, but I knew it wasn’t worth fighting – Rich was driving.  So off we went.

We started in Gary New Duluth and immediately headed across the St. Louis River on the Oliver Bridge.  It’s a unique old bridge that wasn’t frightening on a bike, but I might have questioned its soundness in a car.  We were off to a good start.  We traveled on small local roads, and soon turned onto Military Road.  There was no traffic and we were able to ride 3 abreast on the tree-lined route.  The sun was out and soon warmed us as well as infusing the leaves with depth of color.  I guess it was about this time that I had to admit Rich had made a good choice.  It was a wonderful circle route, which is always preferable to an out-and-back course, we didn’t hit any sections of dirt road, and we got our fill of fall colors, including some very picturesque spots.  Midway Myra and I even convinced Rich to extend the route an additional 10 miles to make it last even longer.

Returning along highway 23 we stopped at the scenic overlook.  Usually it is a sleepy little wayside, but that day it was overflowing with people taking in the view.  And for good reason – the colors were spectacular.  We joined in the fray, taking our share of foliage pictures.

That evening, we met friends for dinner in Duluth.  They called to say that they were going to be late.  They were staying north of Two Harbors and the traffic was terrible…  There were thousands of “leaf peepers” on the road along the North Shore, and they were barely crawling along.  Rich’s face lit up.  He was vindicated, and even I realized that it had been a good idea to avoid the North Shore.

The next day, I just left the choice to Rich.  We were up at the cabin doing fall closing-up chores, but had reserved the afternoon for a bike ride.  He chose our route around Turtle Lake.  As the road narrowed and turned to packed dirt, we had the best colors yet.  The tree branches closed us in overhead with brilliance, and the fallen leaves blanketed the roadside.  Truly spectacular.

In the future I will just have to remember – the road less traveled is the one we want.