One Fit Man

The Kadenwood skate TT. Couldn't quite 1-skate to the top this time. Photo cred: Lee

I have never been this fit before. Definitely not at this time of the year, perhaps ever. And there are a few key points in my preparation and in my sensations to date that lead to such a bold statement. Being fit at this time of year is a double edged sword. I shouldn't be fit right now. I shouldn't be sharp and feeling anything awesome in key hard efforts.

It's important to assess and ask yourself questions why something like this comes about. In some instances there are underlying flaws in the programme. It's important to evaluate and justify the body's adaptations.

It's all about how I got to this point. I have done zero speed this year. I have done one interval session, 4 x 1 km repeats on the track with Corey earlier in the spring time. I get fast by identifying weaknesses and homing in on the body's systems that are the reasons for these hindrances, attempting to constantly raise the level. Not by hammering and "getting myself in shape" with "no pain, no gain" - a common approach.

The Kenyans say you haven't trained until you have sweat.

I will outline two instances of incredible high-end fitness sensations experienced to date this year. But first a little background information.

Up to now I have put a big focus on flexibility. Last year, with the help of a mentor, I identified that my ankle and hip flexibility were major limitations to my range of motion, significantly affecting nearly all motions that include legs, haha. 3 specific stretches performed at least once daily have notably improved this issue. Big gains have resulted, most noticeably running. I can now toe-off. As well as extend and have an efficient power phase in my stride. Running essentials.

To build up running technique and speed, I did no hard runninig whatsoever (besides the 1km repeats with Corey that one day that he dragged me out). I found a 1.41km loop near my house in Yellowknife that had 2 steep hills on it (that would allow me to gain altitude quickly without having to climb forever), both followed by long, meandering downhills that would allow me to open up stride length while maintaining high cadence and mid-foot foot-strike. Practicing on the downhills on this loop a few times a week is the core workout that has taught me how to run again and how to really enjoy it.

I am now running faster than ever. Today was the Spud Run down in Pemberton. Laid back, pretty chill (like everything Pemberton!), and a good time all around. The 8.5km race seemed like a perfect hard effort to gauge training effect (train easy pace almost always, isolate the fundamentals of the aspects of "fitness", and then test your work in a hard effort from time to time where you put all the fundamentals together to observe weaknesses).

The 8.5km race was pretty interesting. Classic, beautiful Pemberton views. At the 5.5 km mark I figured I could bang out a decent 3km so I made my move, pulling ahead of Lee who had paced me up to this point. I had it pinned for a while as I gapped the field, running at around 17.5kph till I got near 8.5km, unfortunately with no finish line in sight. Great. The scorching sun was searing me on the hot pavement. And I had used up much of the reserves I had left making that push. I struggled in to the line, speed dropping down below 15kph, overheating and pasty-mouthed. Ended up being a 10km run. Was also my fastest 10km ever, haha. 38 minutes on the dot. On a course that was about 3 km sand and soft, mushy gravel, another 3km on gravel paths, the other 4km being on the road. And bonking at the end. Very promising observation of fitness. With no fast running anywhere near that speed, just those runs on that loop with the long downhills.

Apres Spud Run chill sesh. Just layin' on a sandbar in the scorching heat post glacial stream dip...

Moment of remarkable fitness #2: Kadenwood 2km uphill double pole TT. Hard uphill with one rest at 1.5km before the final steep pitch. Pinned it off the start up the first hard section and was nearly sure I had blown the remainder of the TT. Somehow sustained it on "pinned" gear the whole way. This alone is nothing special. But being able to do it with a proper crunch, especially keeping the abs contracting efficiently and powerfully throughout the entirety of the TT, while at the same time coordinating this motion with diaphragm contraction. Somehow this is something I am only just learning. It would appear it is fairly fundamental to double pole and that I would have learned it before only just last year??

The focus of this abdominal crunch has had me in the gym many a time thus far. I've had some great sessions with Corey (haha, get it? CORE-y? ya?) back in YK, he's a great motivator and great at stressing a point. Francis' (Bodyworks) ab crunching machine was money (Corey disagrees, but I stand by it) along with the kneeling crunch down on the flies. The building of a Power Gut. But with the Power Gut, don't forget to keep a balance with back strength and the rest of your core. A great article linked from XCottawa drove home this point. Working abdominals exclusively is a recipe for disaster and back injury. A well-rounded core routine is essential. It's easy to pick out the gym rats with the ripped 8-pack and the scrawny-looking back. A few showed up at Lost Lake beach today.

I guess you could say the Power Gut was the foundation that hauled my butt up Kadenwood the other day. Something that is only just amassing its strength and should be a force to be reckoned with come winter. It will be interesting to see if I can beat my "invincible"-sensation-TT next time I challenge the looming Kadenwood climb.

Near the top of Comfortably Numb trail in Whistler. "Whistler's officially epic trail". It is epic. Was a 25km pt. to pt. in a frigid rain. A top training session of the year so far.

The past 2 weeks training in Whistler have been dialed. Completely dialed. Every session, day in, day out. 17-ish hour weeks, nailing every aspect of ski training. I'm taking this seriously, haha. And it's been a great environment. Whistler alone is "where the magic happens". Lee has been a great motivator and I have got some great work done with him so far. CVTC is running smoother than I have ever seen it and it looks like a great program is being rebuilt from the ground up.

I guess mr. Alex Hopkins from YK, now Edmonton, inspired me to write something that would hopefully help developing skiers like him. He's 16 years old and eager to learn and work hard. Hopefully he and others who are interested can get something useful out of my musings and experiences. But remember that, that it's just "my musings and experiences". Everyone is different and there is no one cookbook to guide everyone. It's your journey. Alex is supposed to send me some questions on nutrition that I will entertain on this blog. So that should be an interesting topic... everyone seems to have quite a unique take on it.

Thanks for reading (if you actually managed to fight through that epic).

tdhont

Building Back The Rep

Alrighty then. Apologies are not in order. I'm not sorry for my hiatus. So deal with it. (haha, lots of bloggers would be sorry, but I know how so many of you readers hate when apologies are given for lack of stalking material!)

My Statcounter has taken a hit recently (look ma! A pun!), with unique returning visitors per day averaging down around the 10-15 range as opposed to the 30+ figures seen during the glory days of multiple weekly updates.

Now that my life is somewhat in order, and thoughts are moderately organized, I can put musing to blog.

The past 2 months at home in Yellowknife were a time of joy and happiness although riddled with uncertainty as to my fate for the whole next year. I knew I would be pursuing my Olympic dreams with full-hearted commitment, but where and with who was yet to be determined.

Training in Yellowknife over this time was amazing as I was able to put in some volume on snow for the entire month of May. What can only be characterized as drawn out sequences of perfect moments, skiing on Great Slave Lake during warm, sunny days constitutes some of the most regally beautiful memories I possess.

But like most good things in life, even the lake skiing comes to an end. Spring break-up. Whatchyoself.

Things in Yellowknife were good. "Too good" hints at over-indulgence, so let's just stick with plain old "amazing" - being with family, meals cooked for me (wild meat! boo ya), sleeping in my bed at home, hanging with great friends, being out in nature on my old stomping grounds, training going awesome, excitement of Mountain Bike Madness - why did I leave? Even I can't answer this question very well. I suppose the cliché answer to that question is that duty called. I had been through quite the ordeal with the shake-up with CVTC. I tossed and turned at night, weighing and re-weighing my options. Whistler vs. Canmore. Deathmatch.

After writing a pro/con list, things became quite clear. Throw in an unexpected "WOW moment" from Mr. Churchill and the scales tipped notably towards Whistler. Going for a beer with Corey and talking it over further had my mind virtually made up.

The phenomenon of the midnight sun in Yellowknife fubars circadian rhythm. You don't feel like sleeping when you watch kids on the block jubilating late at night in the blazing sunshine as your boxer-clad self half-heartedly/grumpily brushes teeth. Eventually you give in and your bed-time passes into the next day. I met someone this spring who ignores conventional time awareness (aside from work hours, haha). Without environmental stimulus for sleep, ie. darkness, this person will sleep when she's tired. Meaning that if she isn't tired, she will stay up all night. This person also requested that I name this blog update "______ is AWESOME!!!". I politely declined.

I did a triathlon the day before I left town. Swim was dialed (I improved approximately 400% in terms of endurance since my practice swims), bike was effing cold, and the run was actually dialed - I ran through almost the entire field. Goes to show what a little ankle and hip flexibility work can do for you.

So where am I now? Whistler. Beautiful, amazing Whistler (it even smells good here training in the Coast Mountains). Where "Lucky Man" by The Verve constantly perks the goose bumps as you take in the majestic surroundings. I have returned to the sacred Olympic grounds. Teammate Camille (the legitimate Champion of Highlands) and I are living in style right in the Village for a very focused 2 weeks (before heading to Canmore for glacier skiing) under the tutelage of Lee Churchill.

Double training session days on the straight and narrow are in order for the next few weeks. I have identified the gains required to ski fast, now it's just a matter of a little hard work to reap the rewards for this period. It's an exciting time! Welcome to the journey.

Thanks for checking in.

Thomsen

Ice Age

Not much has been happening in Yellowknife lately.  I have got out of the "spring-time" phase, got through the "get serious" phase and am now in the "serious" phase that will take me through the rest of the year.  It's game on and training is a number 1 focus.  I have finally got my phone call offering my position on CVTC.  So all this "hurry up and wait" over the past while is now "hurry up and make a decision". 

There is still skiing in Yellowknife.  Some days are brutal though.  It has been freezing cold, getting down to lows of -10 C at night and barely getting above zero most days.  A very cold May, but I'm not complaining.  The ice isn't great for skiing on these cold days, as it's rock hard and is as loud as a 737 when skiing on.  In this picture, Corey is being pushed by the gale force winds on the chunky ice on the ice road.  I froze skiing back to town.  

Cool drifts.  Just out past Dettah village.

The tracks on previous week's snowfall will remain until break-up.  A-Hop dressed for normal May weather on this day.  And froze.

Ok, this is funny.  Recently I went to Fort Providence with my family to tidy up my grandparents' graves (that's not the funny part, haha).  Randomly, as we pulled into the middle-of-nowhere-village Edzo, we see Yellowknife's only ice cream man.  In Edzo.  So we wave frantically from our truck to flag him down.  

I brought my bike to Ft. Prov and had an amazing ride there that evening.  The river had only recently broken up, allowing the ferry's passage to the south and the rest of the country.  Riding along the river is beauty.  Just look out for bison.  Nice reminiscing on many trips to the area in my childhood.  Notably, the trip to NWT Cross Country Running Champs (back when they had those) with, correct me if I'm wrong, David, Michael and Jill Gilday and Eric Aitken.  

The giant of the D'Hont clan.  I'm half a foot taller than anybody ever was on either side of the family.  And I'm not even that tall at 5'11".  Pate always asks how I did it.  l to r: myself, Dawn (mom), Evelyn (Aunt who has never read my blog), and Adrian (dad).  

On the riverbank checking out a memorial for the hardships suffered by aboriginal peoples in the residential schools.  I climbed this giant boulder nearby that had to be the only rock climbing anywhere near Ft. Prov, haha.  It took a while to climb...no handholds, just pure brawn.

Some cool cracks are starting to form on the lake.  I'm sort of scared skiing sometimes.  There are open patches here and there.  They say to look out for seagulls, they are an indicator of open water. 

With the freeze-thaw cycle, the ice is moving around and pushing up freshly frozen sheets of ice into the sky.  Be careful skiing over these, they can dismember you!

So now that things are set in motion, I should know my plan for the year within a week's time.  Thank you to my sponsors who made this year possible for me: MACA/Sport North, FSC Architects and Engineers, the North Slave Métis Alliance, Mackenzie Management, Great Slave Dental, and Francis at Bodyworks Fitness Centre.  I couldn't do what I'm doing without you, so thank you.  

Waaaaaadddddduuupppp, what's happenin'

You know what this is...

...it's a celebration (kidses)  !!!

Fisherman: "We caught a couple big fish today," as he holds up a ginormous 35-lb trout.  "We got a bigger one in the back."  Then he says, "I'm afraid to go between the islands cause of the currents and soft spots, but out here we've still got 5 feet of good ice."

Awesome.

Pit-stop picnic.  Alex and I recently spent all day on the ice.  In windbriefs the majority of the time.

Pressure ridges like these can soar overhead.  The folds in the ice on either side form deep trenches of water - at least pole-length deep.  

I'm not going to BS anybody and say that skiing in Yellowknife in the spring time is difficult to explain, because, in fact, its quite easy.  

Get in a comfortable standing position, eyes closed, and get someone to read this to you in slow, soothing tones:

Imagine you are scantily clad, skis on your feet, poles in your hands.  You feel the heat of the sun on your skin and hair.  A warm breeze gently caresses your body.  You feel a refreshing chill emanating from below.  The hot and the cold meet in perfect harmony. 

Imagine your eyes springing open, nice and wide.  Initially you are blind.  You slide your inuit bone-snow-goggles, or normal sunglasses or what have you over your eyes.  You look down and perceive that you are standing on a surface of pure white.  It's razor sharp and sparkles like freshly polished diamonds.  

Looking around yourself, you realize that it meets the bright blue horizon in every direction.  A portion of the horizon is lighter blue than the rest, baby blue.  The blazing sun that lights this side of the world slightly more than the rest draws you towards it.  Instinctively, you start skate skiing.  You are shocked at the immediate speed you achieve.  Your limbs move effortlessly, your skis' edges catch the perfect amount of this odd white platform to propel you forward sans resistance.  Every push is perfect.  There's no need for balance adjustments.  You are moving faster than your tailwind, generating this new, equally light headwind that is a welcome respite to the intense heat generated by the sun in this convection oven.  Time and thought drift aimlessly about as you skim speedily through this surreal environment.  Surely it's a hallucination.  Perfection like this simply cannot exist.  "Or can it?" you wonder as you plant your pole tip between your skis and sheer the skin off your torso on the infinitesimal diamonds at your feet and are left in stinging agony for the next 5 days.  

Shake your body out.  Slowly awake from this odd dream.  Look over at your buddy, the narrator and snap out of it.

If done correctly, there should be blood all over your chest, haha.  

See y'all in Yellowknife in a future springtime.  

T

Sitting, Waiting, Wishing...and more waiting...

We are destined to be together...perhaps in another life. (photo cred: Pate)


I feel like my younger self. Being towed behind JT's pimped out 250cc Elan on my rock skis, getting jerked about behind the tow rope, jostled on the uneven snow of Prelude Lake. Key words: "jostled" and "jerked about". Cause that's what's happening yet again this spring time.

There has been absolutely no continuity between seasons over the past 2 years. In terms of ski programs and the philosophy of those providing guidance. Upon graduation from high school, I made the move out to good ol' T-bay where I was a member of the National Team Development Centre out there. I decided to move on from that program for a more optimal training set-up. In Thunder Bay I learned much of what the Canadian system has to offer as I chose NTDC over pursuing studies/skiing in the States. The main improvement I made with the NTDC was my mental approach to skiing through Eric Bailey's guidance, most notably his mental toughness camp in the fall time. At the end of the season the CVTC's pros led to my move out to Whistler.

Enter 2008/2009 season in Whistler at the Callaghan Valley Training Centre...

Frustration was a common theme for me this past year. But with frustration comes learning and experience, and I feel that even this program led to one of my biggest gains as an athlete. I saw much of the dark side of high level skiing, of the conflicting philosophies and somewhat bitter politics that a younger me (the one being towed by the Elan) would have been oblivious to. The shake-ups that have lead to a changing of the guard amongst the coaching staff at CVTC will mean monumental changes that could go either way for next year.

In Whistler I caught a glimpse of a skiing environment that could be 2nd to none. The raw ingredients are prevalent and the incredible potential for a ski team is beyond comprehension. It's just a matter of holding out for a hero to compose this greatness on the sacred Olympic grounds. A unique hero with a unique skill set; to ride the wave with outstanding outgoing-ness, professionalism, extensive knowledge and compassion. Who (if anyone) will pull this sword from the stone?

Where do we go from here?

My current location: Yellowknife, Northwest Territories. Where I was born and raised. And where such events as the Rock and Ice Ultra take place. Where rent and grocery costs don't exist when I'm staying at my parents'.

Where in the springtime (the best time for skiing in the North) the ski trails don't get maintained. So skiing sucks for a time, until the snow off the big lake melts. In the meantime we get to go bust out some mad boot slipping on frozen overflow on lakes such as Fault Lake on the YK ski trails. And scavenger hunting.

This time of year is a time of planning and organization. Weighing and re-weighing all options, securing funds through sponsorship to pursue the dream, and easing back into training routines. Decision making takes front and center. Where will I go? What will I do for training? A team? Race support?

Most importantly, the springtime is when we stoke the fire for the new year.

It's all about the process. Trying new things, fine tuning. Sharpening dull tools, turning sharp tools into a razor edge. Put all of the pieces together in a way that works, and then from there find another even better way for it to work. But don't fix something if it ain't broken. Build on what you have. Take ownership and never stop learning. Challenge yourself.

Enjoy victories when you can. And find hidden opportunities in the defeats. Take what you can and move on. Don't dwell on your short-comings.

Confidence is a useful weapon. Gain it through training, both physical and mental. (Pic: Zach Caldwell)
Whistler is where the magic happens. I really want to find a way for it to work.

There is a great community of long-time locals who are very supportive of pursuing the Olympic dream. It takes a community to raise Olympic medallists.

2 of my favourite things from Whistler: Twoonie racing, and Pique reading.

Get ready to set out on a new adventure. The path is known. It's time to walk it.

Until next time, (someone's going to punch me in the mouth for the outrageous corny-ness...) it's sitting, waiting, wishing as the higher up decision makers do their work and get programs in line, cough, Callaghan!, cough cough... And that's when the real fun begins. (Pic: Barb Campbell)

Laura, you're killing me. Or maybe it's the other way around...

Hopefully this will satisfy your cravings.

http://pateneumann.blogspot.com/2009/04/whistler-callaghan-sweet.html

I only had my mini 500ml water bottle holder to play with today and therefore didn't have space to cram my crappy Olympus amongst the 900 calories and single water bottle I had for the 4 hours (not enough!).

And if that doesn't satisfy your cravings, maybe this will.

I recently spent a week vacationing in Mexico on my own, visiting my Aunt. Once fully relaxed after a few days I started exploring and touring around. I got to go surfing for my first time which was a highlight of the trip. The night life at that place is wild, much different than Whistler in terms of guy to girl ratio, pretty much the opposite actually, and night clubs are open till 5am. Only the clinically insane stay out that late though - arriving home to a beautiful sunrise and then sleeping all day long.

My Aunt's boyfriend, Marcelo (you may remember him as my Mexican foot man from back when my hand was broken), was kind enough to provide the services of his restaurant, La Fonda, to provide yours truly with dee-lish Mexican cuisine and an array of his cocktail book's cocktails.

The outdoor section of where eating occurred.

Where tanning occurred (rooftop). The only place where I could lounge in the sun without being hassled by the beach hasslers selling their wares.

Sayulita, where I went surfing. The waves sucked apparently but I was able to stand up so that was fun. Also shredded my foot on a rock. This place was way better than PV, small-town feel and surf.

Swimming hole up at where they filmed "Predator" with Arnold Schwarzenegger.

One of the main accomplishments of the trip - conquering the Rubik's triangular pyramid. Not for the faint of heart.

I like being home where it's warm and comfortable.

John Butler Trio’s “Ocean” is reverberating through my head along with the howling head-wind. I am dressed very thinly and am in the middle of a 17 km long lake, exposed as hell, averaging barely 7 km/h. I’ve been out here for many hours already, plodding fresh tracks through the fresh snow and am on the final, most difficult stretch of stage 1 of the 3-stage K-Rock Ultra 135km ski race in the Rock and Ice Ultra. The visibility is reduced to 100m with the raging storm but realistically I can barely even see my ski tips as I am bundled up like a mummy with iced up goggles smothering my face. I feel like Luke Skywalker when he does his first light saber drills using the blast shield aboard the Millenium Falcon, not being able to see any of the miniature laser beams that are shot his way. Somehow I am finding my way from invisible yellow flag to invisible yellow flag and I guess it helps that the route is perfectly straight. Most people in their right mind would find this situation somewhat frightening, maybe even cause for panic. Truth is, I find the fanatical intensity of the exposure exhilarating. As the song reaches one of its many crescendos, additional adrenalin is injected into my system. Not exactly a necessary hormone for a 5+ hour day especially with it being the first of three, but perhaps playing a part in my peculiar euphoria. I fist pump a couple times. This is no longer a ski race, but more like a running/ski-bounding race. Gliding is not an option, and the high tempo shuffle-bound-jog technique I have perfected has put the hurt on the rest of the field. I didn’t even attack intentionally. At the start of Prelude Lake I was chilled and started to freeze up. The only way for me to survive, or more like survive successively, was to pick up the pace to warm up. The guys I was with, Corey and Rob, had both hammered off the start of the race and it seemed like they were starting to feel their early efforts judging by their slowing trundle. In my attempt to warm up I soon found myself alone in the white-out, plugging away, trusting my obsessive compulsive nature to maintain the elevated tempo and get me to the end.

Eventually I drag my carcass into Stage Camp 1 at Powder Point, the farthest point on Prelude Lake. A crowd awaits me as I am the first to emerge from the swirling vanilla milkshake. The tunes are still pumping from my awesome hat with the built in headphones, so I am unresponsive as the cameras and crowd surround me. I vaguely hear, “I told you so! I told you Adrian’s son would be the first in!”, and, “I told you he was good!”. Only one word and its associated thought come to mind: Awesome – I survived. Unlike the oh so many who fell casualty to the elements on Day 1…


Stage camp #1 - Powder Point.

Me wallowing in my own filth after stage 1. As far as I'm concerned, nice, greasy pizza is the best thing you can eat after skiing all day long. Wrap it up in tin foil and warm it up on the heater stove and voila.

The home stretch on the ice road.

Almost there...

I think I can read his thoughts: "Gawd, and how many more of these do I have to eat!?"

Day 2 dawns with a glorious sunrise as the camp rouses. The constant bustle of urgent activity really makes me realize that the race isn’t only the 45-ish km you cover each day, but equally as much what you do in the down-time. How you come down from one stage and prepare for the next. It turns out I have a 16 minute gap on Corey “Rock & Ice” McLachlan, a very comforting cushion that brings to mind various tactical approaches. A mutual, unspoken agreement is reached for the day as we both realize that our shape is similar and that any huge moves would have to wait until the final stage. So we ski together the entire race, trading leads, refueling often, chatting, enjoying the magnificent weather and landscape that is the Hidden lake burn and surrounding area. Meanwhile, Mike “the Rabbit” Argue and Phil “the Tortoise” Villeneuve wage a silent but fierce battle that favours fitness, short drink breaks, proper fuelling, efficient pulk systems, and impressive mental fortitude. And during this battle they make fun of us “old ladies” as we have tea time way too often. Every few kilometers I see animal sign out in the untouched Akaitcho territory, where only a couple snowmobiles had passed in the previous week. I spot lynx sign as it meanders through the maze of snowshoe hare paths that polka-dot the untouched, sparkling powder between the 3-foot high new growth trees. I see some big tracks and dub them as “Sasquatch”. Corey laughs. “Or maybe just moose,” I respond. The great caribou herds keep to themselves far up North and haven’t graced us with their presence around Yellowknife in many years. Some of the final lake sections are treacherous. Wind isn’t a factor, but snow depth and consistency is. We are plowing through sugar over our boots. The shuffle-bound-jog is adopted once again as mode of transportation. We keep this up for a long time, Corey seems to have recovered from yesterday and has me at the limit of my “easy” zone at times. He likes to hammer anyways. Once or twice in the last sections of the stage I stop for candy. Gummy worms are pure gold and are much better than Sharkies as they do not stick to your teeth and go down very easy. Caramilk and Rolo eggs are amazing as well, but are potential choking hazards as they are the exact diameter of one’s trachea. The day takes the same 5:20-ish as yesterday. I now have a 2nd place and 3rd place longest training sessions of all time. The day has turned mild, maybe -12 Celsius with no wind and a big hard sun. We arrive to the white teepees that are as hot as saunas and as small as bathroom stalls with 8 feet of head-room at the very center, tapering on all sides very quickly. Corey and I stand in our tent with shirts off and our torsoes above the “scorching hot” height threshold. Mikey and Phil arrive from their duel, Mikey having to fight especially hard to catch up in the last 5 km after yard-saling his pulk a few times on the final downhill that had a couple corners.

Once changed and settled we enjoy the weather, ice fish, and get our game faces on for Day 3. Race mode is on all the while.


After a night of sweaty, clammy legs, and a frozen upper body due to an opening in the tent next to my balaclava-clad head, it is time for the final and deciding stage of the K-Rock. Last night I determined the 43.5 km stage was over at 35 km, because from there on in it’s mostly ice road where you can average nearly double the speed you would otherwise ski on snow. So basically 35 km. On the day, conditions are quite good. Hard pack the entire way (no sugar!), mostly tail wind, and a snowmobile sled track that shockingly resembles a skiing track. I’m skiing evenly and slightly above my comfort zone for almost the entire race. There is little talk out there as the mood is heavy and sullen (read: competitive) just like the dreary sky surrounding us. I lead about 20 km of the first 25 km. I am the first to stop for a water refill at the 2nd last check point but somehow get filled last and meanwhile everyone takes off without me. Skating, even! Skating has been shown to average about 13-14 km/h today but consequently burns dangerous amounts of energy very quickly. Striding has shown easy averages of 11 km/h and is a more natural and efficient movement for the human body. Slightly annoyed with the pack leaving after the water mix-up, I take off and kill myself for a few minutes to get back to the front. I slow the pace to a stride and assume that they will stop so that I can take a drink of my tardily refilled thermos. Instead, Corey attacks and quickly puts about 5 minutes into me using the infamous technique of skating. I realize that this is the last realistic opportunity for him to reel in the 16 minutes. I have to dig very deep and stride for all I am worth for about 8 km of a lengthy lake stretch. Heart rate is pinned at about 170 for almost an hour until I finally catch him. The race is pretty much over now, just a matter of skiing it in. We round the corner at Dettah and hop on the ice road, escorted by a convoy of eager film crew and photographers (including my dad), leaping in and out of vehicles, doing drive bys and almost getting taken out by our skittery, uncontrollable skis as they take wide-angle laying down shots of us speeding by. We double pole it in, averaging 19 km/h the last little bit, even into a headwind. The race is now over, we reminisce of the battle and enjoy the natural high. A huge sense of accomplishment washes over me as I cross the finish line. Most importantly from having finished this thing relatively unscathed.

The boys at Trout Rock Lodge, preparing for the final and deciding day of the Diamond Ultra 225 km 6-day ski race. I'm serious, that's how they prepared. Ok, maybe only one or two of those are theirs, maybe. My bad for cutting out Mikey's face.

Over the proceeding days of the Rock and Ice I got to witness the epic battle between Mike and Phil. In a race that is decided over 6 days, 225 km of tricky ski conditions, and over 24 hours of total race time, you know it was a great race when the time separating first and second is mere minutes.

The future of the Rock and Ice is still somewhat unknown in terms of growth over the next few years. It has remained small, with the 3rd year garnering nearly 100 athletes. It helped this year that it wasn’t during Nationals, that is why this is the first year I could actually enter without a conflict. The event could potentially be great next year with proper planning. With Nationals taking place in Whitehorse next year, it could be as easy as getting word out to Canada’s skiers, setting up First Air to be shuttling athletes over from Whitehorse for the race once Nationals are done, and then back down south after the R & I as part of their sponsorship commitment. That could attract flocks of competitive racers. But still, with a price tag of $1500 for the 3-day, and $3000 for the 6-day, cost would become an issue for many of North America’s racers (over 50% discount for residents of the Yukon, NT, and Nunavut, though!). Perhaps a discount for CCC license holders might be an attractive development as well as prizes that would go deeper than top-1. With Nationals likely to be at the end of the month of March next year, having the Rock and Ice take place into April could be a good thing. Perhaps keeping athletes in the North for an extended period of a few weeks to experience the best in the World skiing that is possible on Great Slave Lake once the snow has melted off towards the end of the month.

Corey congratulating Starr on her 2nd place finish in the 3-day ski.