Part
4: Pre-Blizzard Racing Jitters
The
two weeks between races goes by fast. I really don't do any training,
other than walking the dog up to the top of Fox Hill a couple of
times. It's cold, all I have for snowshoes are my wooden bear paws,
and there is no real safe place to run on my road. Those are my
excuses, anyway. I also feel guilty when I go out without the dog,
he's getting older and can't keep up and the deep snow is really
tough for him to get through. The Wednesday before the race, Jason
asks me how training is going. I admit that it isn't. He looks at me
and says: “you're probably going to have a tough time, then.” I
have to agree with him. I start getting nervous about then. The day
before the race is gorgeous. I have to run down to Portland in the
morning and pick up Jason and take him to work, his Saturday morning
ride hasn't gotten back to him. It's so beautiful when I get home
that I grab Bandit and we head out for a walk. I'm just planning on
taking him up Fox Hill, but he really needs to stretch out and run at
his own speed, so we head down Pumphouse Road instead and I let him
off leash. He frolics and frisks and sniffs, and as we get past the
gate, I decide to check the trail that goes behind the pumphouse. I
am thrilled to discover that it's packed hard enough that Bandit can
walk on it without post holing. Me, I mostly
don't go through, but I don't think the cross country skiers will be
terribly happy with me... The main trails out in back are all
well-packed. We're both moving pretty easy, and it's great seeing how
much fun the old dog is having. As we walk, I can't help but think
how awesome it would be to own my own running snowshoes. I start
going through my finances in my head, and I realize I just might be
able to swing it after all. I'm really enjoying the weather and the
woods and the trails, and I decide that I'm going back out again on
my trusty bear paws after lunch and without Bandit. We hit the steep
uphill just before the pond, and I discover that I'm not as out of
shape as I thought. This excites me, and my pre-race jitters get
kicked to the curb. We get home and I make myself a juicy
cheeseburger and rehydrate, change the batteries in my camera, and
grab the snowshoes.
Second
trip out is even more awesome than the first. I'm moving easy on the
snow with the bear paws. The winter landscape is amazing, brilliant
blue skies, snow, the greens of the pines and firs, the afternoon
light shining golden and then rosy from behind the trees as the sun
starts to go down. I find amazing things to photograph – natural
snow sculptures, the light through the trees, and the austere winter
beauty of the Maine woods. I also do a little jogging in the easier
spots. It's not easy running on full-sized wooden snowshoes, but it
can be done. I'm comfortable on my beloved old-fashioned snowshoes,
these are what I learned how to snowshoe on when I was very young.
Well, not this exact pair, my first pair was smaller, but pretty
similar. I come home feeling much better about things than before I
went out.
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