In the small
circles of expedition-adventure racers, one always hears the refrain: “Getting
to the start line is the hard part.” Clichéd? Absolutely. But never have I been
so ready to get on the plane and start racing. If I have any energy left for
the actual race, I’ll be amazed.
The Prologue:
GOALS ARA or
representatives from the team have typically been involved in at least one
expedition race a year for over a decade. Last fall, I began pushing for XPD in
Australia, a race I have heard nothing but the best about and one which was and
still is high on my bucket list of races. Abby and I began discussing it before
opening a conversation with Bruce and Jonathan about teaming up for an
expedition, and while I was disappointed to let XPD go, Abby began advocating
for Alaska.
We had some
back and forth with Bruce and Abby both firmly leaning toward Alaska. Several
days of emails, research, and phone calls later, we jumped on board for Alaska
largely due to the excitement we sensed from friends who had raced Dave
Adlard’s first Expedition Idaho. Payments complete, it seemed we were off to
Alaska.
Stage 1-Training:
We’re not
one of those teams that train much together. We are all busy professionals with
hectic lives, and Abby and I have been learning new levels of balance since the
arrival of our daughter Zoe last April, which hasn’t exactly made quality
training any easier. I’ve always relied heavily on racing in the spring and
early summer to get me ready for expedition races, but this year I’d be racing
less. I’d have to rethink my approach to the physical preparation of an
expedition; I started with advice from Andy Magness.
Back in the
fall, not long after the end of the 2014 season, Abby and I found ourselves
listening to Randy Erickson’s podcast, TA 1. That day, Randy spent the hour
talking with Andy about his approach to training which revolves around
High-Intensity-Training. And when Andy says high Intensity, he means it. Both
Abby and I were fascinated by his philosophy and quickly read his book
Ultramental. I was especially intrigued as I had unconsciously been gravitating
toward a less-is-more-as-long-as-it’s-harder-and-faster approach since Zoe was
born, and I was already noticing results while having a bit more time for life
beyond training and racing. I was sold.
I spent the
early winter following Andy’s teachings, and I was already enjoying the benefits
when I first fell ill. It was December, still weeks and months, and thousands
of miles away from Alaska.
From
December until April, I found myself on a roller coaster of viruses and
bacteria thanks to Zoe and her friends at daycare. We had heard that the first
year is murder, and indeed, I felt like the daycare was sending home new
versions of the flu and colds every week just to see how much it would take to finally
knock me out. I’d get sick, train through it at less than optimal levels, and
finally get weak enough that I’d shut it down long enough to allow my lungs
time to recover enough to breathe or my legs to feel more like jelly than
water. I’d start up again and last for a week or two before falling apart once
again.
This went on
until mid-March. I had suffered through two winter races by this point, and
finally I cried uncle after two days of snowshoeing at CNYO’s Snowgaine. Three
months of illness, “training”, and two races left me out of action with
pneumonia for six weeks not to mention I had to withdraw from the one 24 hour
race I had lined up for training purposes for Alaska.
Even when I
started up again, it took some time to truly get back to my normal self, and by
that point, spring was in full-bloom, and Expedition Alaska was right around
the corner. Right, Stage 1 didn’t go according to plan.
Stage 2-Logistics:
Often times
it takes a few months to bring together a team, to line up itineraries and
figure out the travel. While Stage 1 of Expedition Alaska was an absolute
failure for me, Stage 2 went relatively smoothly. Within a week of opening up
discussions, Bruce, Jonathan, Abby and I were signed on, registered and paid.
Following
would be planes, rental cars, hotel bookings and rebookings, evacuation
insurance (apparently there are all sorts of bad things that might happen to us
in Alaska…crevasses, snow and ice, hypothermia, man-sized mosquitoes, rabid
otters, and Wildlings from beyond the wall…thankfully there are no bears in
Alaska…), coordinating with Abby’s family who will be flying out with Zoe to
meet us at the finish line, and lining up bins and shopping time on the ground
before we are whisked away for the race.
I don’t want
to think about how many hours we spent working on all of this, but at least I
was able to breathe and recover a bit from Stage 1.
Stage 3-Gear:
After
eighty-plus races, six expeditions, and more than two decades of outdoor
adventures, one can find various pieces of equipment in just about every room
of our house. And where there isn’t a pile of gear or a bike or boat, small
piles of maps litter shelves and inhabit corners, reminders of past sojourns
out in the wilderness and founts of daydreams for journeys yet to come.
For the most
part, Abby and I have amassed enough gear to equip a small army of sherpas, but
Expedition Alaska has pushed us to new heights. Standard AR gear of course
applies, but this race demands everything shy of a hand-operated airplane
(though I think our evacuation insurance includes one of those).
In addition
to the 2,437 pounds of regular gear required for an expedition race, we had to
invest in a wee bit more for this one. I don’t think I’ve ever spent so much
time researching gear. While fun for the first few weeks, the last couple of
months have worn on as I’ve read and re-read, pondered and inquired, with all queries
ultimately leaving me with one answer: I
have no idea.
The thing is, it’s easy to say “I’ll take that,” because it’s
the lightest or “the best.” But there is always someone telling you what’s
wrong with “the best”, and sometimes the lightest isn’t really what you want in
a race where you will be wrestling grizzly bears in a crevasse after five days
of sleep deprivation while only having covered half the race course. Still, we
are going in with some new toys that are exciting once you stop thinking about
the cost. Some of the highlights:
- New Alpacka Gnu Packraft-Well, we could have gone in a different direction, but after a less than stellar racing experience with a different boat in 2012, we swore to go all in next time packrafting was a significant part of a race. I’ve played around in the boat a number of times so far, and there is nothing I’m as excited for in Alaska as the packrafting.
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| Packraft Training with our new packs, rafts and more |
- Drysuits-We picked up a couple of Alpacka’a lightest here too. And from what we are hearing, we now will have to wear our drysuits for the entire race, even during registration. Glad we got the light ones. Hopefully they won’t get torn during the five minutes of bushwhacking we expect to do.
- Glacier Gear-Excited for the glaciers. We’ve been throwing ice cubes all over the kitchen floor and walking around in our crampons to get comfortable for this big section of the race. Unfortunately, the last glacier in Pennsylvania melted last summer:(
- New Packs-More research. More wringing of hands, but we ultimately settled on the Osprey Exos 58 packs, and we love them! Plus, they are big enough for me or Abby to jump inside when we get tired.
- Booties, Sealskinz Socks, Sealskinz Gloves-They keep telling us the water is colder than we can possibly imagine. So we invested in 17 layers for our feet and hands. We might not be able to hold our paddles or walk, but we should be warm!
- Thorlos-Our terrific sponsors at Thorlos provided us with a new batch of socks this spring, just in time for Expedition Alaska. We’ve been working with Thorlos for several years now, and our feet thank them every single race we do. This should be the ultimate test as our feet are not only going to be wet for large portions of the week-long event, but this race is particularly foot-heavy and foot conditions will undoubtedly make or break a number of teams.
- Sawyer-We also are excited about our new sponsors from Sawyer who will keep us hydrated and healthy while out in the woods while also allowing us to travel a bit lighter than we otherwise would. We’ve been using their MINI water filters in-line with our bladders for some time, and we’re excited to try out some other equipment from them this summer. And their bug spray will surely prevent those mosquitoes from carrying me away.
- Source-Finally, we are fortunate to have recently commenced a relationship with Source who will be providing us with new drinking reservoirs for the race and beyond. We’ve heard nothing but amazing things about their hydration systems with many reviewers placing them above all the rest when it comes to the competition; we’re eager to test out their products in the wild. Combined with our Sawyer filtration systems, we know we are in good hands when it comes to hydration.
Throw in a
new tent, new PFDs, new base and mid layers, a new harness, and you don’t want
to know what else, and Abby and I expect that we will have to delay retirement
by another decade. As long as we get to use it all, it’s worth it.
Stage 4-The “I”s and “T”s:
Abby and I
are fortunate to both work on the academic calendar which allows us vacation
and play time unlike most working adults. That said, our expedition racing has
to happen over the summer, and when an event like Alaska is slated for June, we
inevitably find ourselves crawling to the plane after marathon grading
sessions, comment writing and whatever else our jobs require we do before
departing for a couple of months of restoration.
Things were
no different this year, but the final checklist this week also involves the
little matter of race directing a 24-hour event of our own for GOALS ARA. Finalizing
maps and race-day documents and logistics. Checking them for the 17th,
18th, and 19th times. Labeling and relabeling flags,
punching master passports, packing the car. Making sure everything for Alaska
is ready to go before I depart on Tuesday to start setting the course (Randy,
if you are reading, no, I’m not going to be packing the day before we fly).
Setting the course. Directing the race. Crashing hard when it’s over on Sunday
before driving back on Monday.
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| Final Scouting Trip for the Cradle |
Yep, Stage 4
might be the crux of the thing; get enough rest and nutrition while pushing
hard toward the finish. Easier said than done.
Stage 5-Travel Day:
We get back
from directing the Cradle of Liberty on Monday, and on Tuesday we say so long
to Zoe, who will be staying with her aunt and grandparents, and we hop our
flight to Anchorage. 14 hours later, we arrive and then we spend Wednesday
searching out gear bins, picking up pre-ordered and delivered packages of food
and doing a final shop…or two…
And then
it’s onto the buses for three days of intensive pre-race training and briefing
at which point we’ll learn about just how much trouble we are getting ourselves
into. I’m sure I’ll be ready for seven days of sleep when June 28th
rolls around and we finally step to the race line, but of course I’ll have to
muster the energy for one final challenge.
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| The host hotel with Denali beckoning in the background |
Stage 6-The Finish:
Stage 6
should be the easy bit. 300-400 miles of Alaskan wilderness. Epic Class IV and
V whitewater rafting down a wild and remote canyon. Dozens upon dozens of miles
of packrafting. Countless glacial creeks and rivers to ford or swim. Days of
bushwacking. Kayaking among icebergs and glaciers. 20 miles across fields of
ice and snow atop some of the world’s most beautiful glaciers. Whales? Bears?
Otters? Moose? Who knows, but it sounds like we’ll be encountering more than
just squirrels.
…
Ultimately,
of course, the cliché is just that: an overused statement that lacks much in
the way of consideration and perhaps reality. It is true that the build up to
an expedition race is challenging in its own regard, and the last seven months
have been obstacle-ridden ones for me that leave me less than ideally prepared
for a race of the magnitude of Expedition Alaska. Physically at least.
But this is
where the true adventure and challenge lies. Will a decade of experience and
careful consideration and preparation when it comes to logistics and equipment
compensate for the unfortunate loss of training time this winter? I certainly hope
so.
As I write
this, the countdown is entering its final stages. 13 Days, 15 Hours, 33 Minutes
and 12 Seconds, to be precise. I’ll get some final training in this week as
Abby and I set the Cradle of Liberty 24 hour adventure race, and I’ll get my 36
hours of sleep deprivation during the race itself. But at this point, nothing I
do is going to get me any more ready for seven days of wild adventure in Seward’s
Folly.
Except maybe
some extra sleep. And hydration. And maybe I should actually go pack that pile
of gear that is sitting in our guest room. Oh, and I need to build the med-kit.
And call my teammate about that strobe. Where are all of my running shoes? Did
I ever charge those bike lights? And what about the spare batteries for our
camera? Still need to sort out that bear-bag. I guess I haven’t quite made the
finish line yet…
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