The Race

I'm surprised at how much can go on in between blogs in this sleepy backwood called the North Shore of Fraser Lake. I've learned a thing or two about the local venacular which includes the fact that there is a distinction between living "in" Fraser Lake or "on" Fraser Lake. Living "in" Fraser Lake means residing within the actual village limits. Living "on" the lake is usually accompanied with a descriptor of exactly "where" on the lake you live. Simply saying: "I live on Fraser Lake" will garner you either a look of puzzlement as to why you aren't finishing your sentence or a wary look that indicates that you "Aren't from around here". Although if one wishes to get picky then shouldn't the sentiment of "You aren't from around here" indicate exactly which "here" one is not from? The proper answer to the statement of where you live is: "I live on the North Shore of Fraser Lake" with the caveat that you are speaking while outside of the Fraser Lake area. If you are having this conversation while in the local area then you would say: "I live on the North Shore" and all is well with you and the locals. 


Being from someplace else is no problem as long as you actually know someone from here. Having a relative as a resident is even better. I climbed up the rung slightly by mentioning that I'm staying here with my parents. There is always a good chance that a local will know the person or persons of whom you speak or they might know someone who does. Simply being a stranger doesn't get you too far in these parts. Strangers include transient workers, most of the aboriginals living on the 2 local reserves, and people passing through enroute to someplace else. It's not that people here are unfriendly per say, but I would say they can be cautious. And they have good right to be so. It's not all country roses out here when it comes to crime and nastiness. More about that in another blog when I'm ready to write about it.


Being a "sort-of-local" gets me by in conversation but my social equity rose like a shooting star when I had something to talk about that a local would be interested in; like being by hit by a moose. 


"You got hit by a moose?"
"Sure did! Here on the North Shore!"
"REALLY? Whoa. Where exactly?"


Of course then you must get specific and know your roads and cross roads because people will want to know precisely where this awed and feared event happened. Awe-inspiring because you're still alive to talk about it. Fear-inspiring because no one wants it to happen to them. I like telling stories to willing audiences and the tale is quite captivating if I do say so myself.... :-)


About The Race.


I wrote in a previous blog about the epic adventure to Ormand Lake with Mary Ann. Ormand Lake was so last week...


Mary Ann and I did make another journey out there, partially. We both decided that the actual 15 miles was harder than either of us wanted to tackle. Our last day out there we avoided the last 3mile hill and enjoyed our day out. We were ready for another challenge. Why not compete in a local Cross-Country Ski Race. How hard could it be?


Famous last words me thinks.


I do need to back up just a tad because there was another pivotal ski day that influenced our race today. Last week we had a quintessential ski day. Perfect ski snow, blue sky and plenty of fun! We skied to a small island in the middle of the lake. During the summer the island is off-limits as it's a protected breeding ground for all the local Seagulls, hence the name Gull Island. The gulls have left for the winter and we were free to roam this small little island. It's a crazy skiers theme park if you want to huck yourself off small cliffs, which Mary Ann and I most definitely did not want to do. We skied down the gentle hills to practice our turns and snow-plow skills. We played around, carving turns, falling, getting up when we fell down  and repeating the whole thing. Eventually we wanted something different so decided to ski across the lake to an area on the shore that had bigger and longer hills. For a couple hours we herringboned up and skied down in beautiful powder, testing our balance and intestinal fortitude to climb up higher and ski down farther. 


Today while on the race, I thanked my lucky stars that we spent the day teaching ourselves how to turn and snow-plow. It saved my bacon that's for sure - no falls.


About a week ago, while on a trip to Burns Lake, Mary Ann and I had checked out the cross country Ski trails at the Omenica Ski Club. The Ski Club boasts being in existence for over 85 years making them the oldest club in Canada. At the ski area there was a ski waxing hut, club house and plenty of trails. We were both psyched to come back and check out the groomed trails. Up to this point all I had been exposed to was skiing on the lake, breaking my own trail and following skidoo trails into the bush. 


I was excited to find out on the internet that this club was hosting a race. There were 2 categories; a fun category that didn't include being timed an a standard race which included a mass start. In each category one could choose the 12km, 25km or 50km course.


I like competing so I knew I would sign up for the race category. I like to know how fast or slow I am. There was the issue of which distance to choose but heck, Mary Ann and I had already skied 28km to and from Ormand Lake so I couldn't see the logic in entering a shorter race. And besides I needed a solid cross-training day for my marathon training anyhow. I let Mary Ann know that I planned on competing in the timed race; 25km division.  She decided she wanted to do the same. I made sure she knew that I didn't expect her to join the same race. I wanted her to have fun for her first race. I may not be a skier but this ain't my first rodeo as far as races are concerned. But this was all a first for Mary Ann. She was resolute, she wanted to ski in the 25km race too! Okey-Dokey.


We decided that we should get out to the ski area to at least familiarize ourselves with the trails. What an eye-opener!


I've never skied in a track before. I had assumed that it should be easier, no breaking trail, just follow the track. Well... it doesn't "quite" work like that. We stood before the trail map at the trailhead. It was a tangled mess of routes that would rival a Paris subway map. It was inscrutable to both of us so we ended up pointing our skis in one direction and hoping for the best. The first hill didn't look too bad but I wasn't entirely sure what I was expected to do; do I stay in the tracks or go to the side? I felt sort of obligated to use the track as there it was all nice and set like that, I positioned myself in the grooves and off I went! 


Wrong choice. 


As I began to pick up speed I realized to my great dismay that I now lost my ability to snow-plow or do much of anything as I rocketed ominously down the icy tracks. There was a corner coming up fast and I had no idea how to navigate it and decided that making a leap for the snow bank was the best choice. At that point, after getting myself out of the snowbank, it dawned on me that I wasn't in Kansas anymore. Mary Ann didn't fair much better so we decided that maybe this trail wasn't so cool after all. We herringboned back up the hill and went back to the map to look at it more carefully and find the easiest trail. To be fair, the day we went out was not the best; At first the tracks were crazy fast but then large, moist flakes of snow descended on us getting us wet, cold and turning the snow into the dreaded and feared "snowball snow". We were forced to turn back and went to the waxing hut to see if we could change our wax. I called the store where we both bought our skis and got an on-the-phone-tutorial about waxing our "wax less" skis. We found the proper temperature wax in various and sundry offerings left behind by other benevolent skiers. The ski hut has vices for the skis and irons for applying the wax. I had never waxed a ski before but the ski guy on the phone made it sound do-able. I listened to Mary Ann as she repeat the complex instructions she had received from her skiing guru-sister-in-law about waxing skis. Apparently waxing is an art and science in which everyone has their own opinion. I tried my best but I knew it wasn't the best wax job, let's call it what it was; a hack job. It would have to do. We headed back out to the trails only to find that the snow had changed yet AGAIN and now our wax was causing us to slip and slide without any kick. We tried, we really did, but we couldn't ski ourselves out of a wet paper bag that day. It was frustrating as hell and being cold and wet wasn't helping. It didn't take long for both of us to decide our ski day was officially over and we headed into the small town proper for lunch.


By this point our grandiose idea of racing the 25km race seemed stupid and probably dangerous. I like a challenge as much as the next ADHD adrenaline junkie, but I don't fancy getting injured before my marathon. Both Mary Ann and I began to convince ourselves that the 12km would be more realistic, fun and we had less chance of looking like complete unprepared idiots in front of others. We drove back to town with dampened spirits and a more sober attitude.


But you can't keep overly optimistic gals down for too long. By the next evening, I decided that God hates a coward and I shouldn't be such a baby - I could do 25km. Mary Ann had come to the same conclusion for herself. We knew the Race would be hard (as we reasoned over wine) but it couldn't be harder than Ormand Lake could it? No way Jose!


Yes it could. Yessiree Bob!


First the good news: The conditions were awesome! It had snowed the night before, and stayed cold for the morning. I took some practice glides and my skis were gliding gloriously. Hallelujah! The folks at the club seemed like nice people as outdoor enthusiasts often are. With a shared interest it's easy to strike up a conversation and club members usually welcome new faces and potential members. 


The other racers were a combination of adolescent ski-club kids with a smattering of parents and senior-ish folks. I've learned my lesson over the years regarding those crafty, gray-haired competitors. Most of them are sand-baggers of the highest order. They'll talk in that self effacing manner designed to lull you into a false sense of security; that you have nothing to fear from them. Oh contrare. They're out to kick your ass and most likely they can. 


While we were waiting for the race to start, I struck up a conversation with one of the guys who had track-set the course. I asked him about the best strategy to get down the hills while in the track. He quickly told me that staying in the track on the downhill was dangerous and he didn't recommend it all. "Stay out of the track, you'll have more control snow-plowing down the hill and you can control your speed."


Perfect advice! Too bad Mary Ann wasn't listening at the time. Her husband had suggested that if she wanted to make up time during the race then she should be fearless and point her skis down and GO! Good advice for an easier course. He said after the fact that he didn't think steep hills would have tracks set in them because that would be stupid. Unfortunately for Mary Ann she took his advice literally. Now the bad news:


Poor, poor Mary Ann.


Her first race ever can only be described as EPIC.


Mary Ann was concerned she'd be last in this race but she sure didn't expect to get off route and to be scaling hills of... well... EPIC proportions. While the rest of us were skiing the course, she was skiing Into The Void. 


I think I was about half-way through the race when I began to seriously worry about Mary Ann. This course was hard. It can only be described as a fucking roller coaster. I knew that this club had held a national competition here a few years back but I never connected the dots that indicated they could hold a world class race because the terrain was world class. Ya, world class all right - world class hard. I had to stop at a few points to decide which way I should go so I knew it could be tricky for her.


I realized that this course was going to be difficult for Mary Ann. As enthusiastic and game as she was, that doesn't provide endurance and cardio for the long haul and it doesn't give you experience. I was the newbie skier yes, but I've competed in many running races and I'm fit in preparation for my marathon. I was worried for her.


But little did I know she was lost out there having taken a wrong turn! I was preoccupied by other matters. One being something I didn't know about cross country skiing: there are different "styles" of skiing. One is called "Classic" and the other called "FreeStyle". Or we could rephrase that by saying one style is old-school and slow and the other style is new-school and fast - Hello skate skiing.


This competition was a Free-style event so any style was allowed. Classic skiing is like bringing a knife to a gun fight if everybody else is skate skiing. Which they were, oh how they were.


What that means is that while I was gliding along the flats and herringboning up the hills, the skate skiers were flying past me like they had wings. I mean seriously, to watch them move up those hills with grace, speed and power almost made me want to throw my big, heavy skis into the bush. For that day anyhow, because actually, I love my skis. For what I do out here on the north shore; skiing on the lake, breaking trails and using skidoo trails, then you can't beat my skis. They're strong and utilitarian. But they ain't skate skis. Soon all the skiers, young and old alike, left me in the dust.


Everyone except for one little fledging kid and MIA Mary Ann.


I crossed the finish line having completed the 25km race in 2hrs47min. That seemed like an infinitely long time but I was philosophical about it. This was a training day for me and it had been fun and I got shown in exquisite detail the differences between cross-country skis and styles. I gotta get me a pair of those skate skis STAT!


I started to wait for Mary Ann. I expected her to be slower. Ok, I expected her to be A LOT slower. I just hoped that she had persevered over the difficult, hilly terrain.


I put my gear away, went to the clubhouse, started chowing down on the after-race meal of homemade chill and waited by the window to catch Mary Ann. This race was sort of weird as you ski right past the finish line and still have another punishing 5km of skiing before you are graced with actually crossing the finish line. Psychologically I found that tough so late in the race, to be so close and yet so far from completion. 


I had decided that when I saw Mary Ann crossing this point I would tell her what was coming up so that she'd have to opportunity to quit right there if she needed to. I figured that would be race enough for her and she had nothing to prove if she was exhausted. About an hour after I finished I saw Mary Ann approaching so I ran out to congratulate and talk to her.


Poor, poor Mary Ann.


Her eyes were as wide as saucers and she looked like she had seen a ghost. When she saw me there was no happy, tired smile and high fives. Instead out of Mary Ann's mouth shot: "I got LOST!!! I've been OUT THERE ALONE for HOURS!!!" As she gestured wildly to where she had just been.


"WHAT?? What happened??" I said


I didn't think her eyes could get any wider but they did and she began to nod rapidly in a slightly hysterical way. "I CLIMBED A FRICK"N MOUNTAIN!! THEY SAID I DIDN'T FINISH THE RACE!! THIS IS BULLSHIT!!" Her speech came in bursts like machine gun fire.


I realized that she was close to weeping. I must be a hard-hearted jerk because I found this funny in a macabre-laughing-when-someone-falls-down-the-stairs way. I started giggling and quickly said "Oh My GOD Mary Ann, what happened??" I began to notice that she was disheveled with her hair sticking out from her toque in a rakish sort of way. She looked so shell shocked and tragic and for some reason that made the situation even funnier. I guess in my defence I could see she wasn't obviously hurt and not in imminent danger now. Traumatized yes, but still walking, talking and gesticulating just fine.


She continued nodding at me frantically like a sketched out bobble-head and burst out: "AND I FELL! I fell so hard on my HEAD Lise, I left an INDENT in the snow!!" Now pantomiming what happened to her.


Now I seriously cracked up in front of her. Through my giggles I kept asking her if she was OK,  and tried to piece together what had happened to her. I had to take a picture of her in this sorry state. I tried to get her to smile so we could pretend she had a good time but she couldn't muster it. I gave her a hug. People were stopping to eavesdrop about the EPIC, similar to folks driving by a car accident - you don't want to look, it's creepy, but you can't help it.


Basically from what I can ascertain, Mary Ann's strategy of pointing her skis in the tracks and GOING didn't do her any favours. She fell hard a couple times and hit her head so hard she saw stars. 


At one point she exclaimed "I swear Lise, it was by only the GRACE OF GOD that I didn't fall more! I came SO close!!"


I couldn't help myself, I said: "Mary Ann, why didn't you snow-plow down the hills? Jesus, you could have killed yourself." I stopped short of saying: "What were you thinking??" That seemed too unkind, especially when she looked at me with the saddest, darn expression on her face and said quietly: "I didn't want to be last." 


Mary Ann is a competitor and she did her level best. On the one hand I was incredulous that she would continue to hurl herself down the hills like she did, but I also couldn't help but have admiration for her sheer, gritty, determination. I marvelled to her how hard it is to over-ride ones' basic self preservation instinct like that. :-)




Both of us think that when she fell and hit her head it addled her brain somewhat and she made the wrong decision regarding which trail to take when she hit a Y in the trail. In short, she was overwhelmed. I've been there, it sucks. I really did feel bad for her.


Mary Ann didn't get an official time because technically she didn't finish the race. She learned some valuable lessons that she'll never forget. I told her that once you've had an EPIC then racing in the future will seem easier by comparison. It's true. It'll make a world of difference next time. Anyone who's had an EPIC mis-adventure in what ever chosen pursuit will attest to this. By the time she sat down, rested and had a bite to eat she was already saying she wanted to come back next year and do the 25km.


That Mary Ann, she ain't no quitter!


Both of us went to school today. I didn't hit my head but The Race seriously kicked my ass.