Sandia Snowshoe Race

I'm on a relay team to do the Mt. Taylor Quadrathlon ("the Quad") on February 17th. I have been making an effort to do some cross training for this event, so that I don't completely embarrass the team.

After a brief attempt at cross-country skiing (in which I discovered I completely suck at cross country skiing), I have found my spot on the team doing the snowshoe leg. The snowshoe consists of a 1 mile trek to the top of Mt. Taylor (from the end of the cross country ski leg), and then back down. Two miles. I understand it really is a challenging trek - straight up, straight down. This is fully in keeping with the rest of the Quad, which I understand is about a 10 on the difficulty scale (in total, the Quad is a 43-mile pain-fest).

My friend and Quad co-team member told me that snow shoeing is basically just running with awkward foodwear. That didn't sound too awful. While I'm a reasonably competent alpine skier, I've never been on snowshoes before in my life. Ever.

So naturally, I signed up to do the Sandia Snowshoe race.

According to the course map, I could see that the Sandia Snowshoe race would be a 4 mile race across the top of Sandia Peak, from the Crest House to the top of the Sandia Peak Tramway and back. There are a number of beautiful developed trails at the top of the crest, all in constant use year round for hiking, cross country skiing, mountain biking and snow shoeing. I've even run on some of these. The top of Sandia Peak is at 10,675 feet - I knew the race would be high elevation all the way across and back, and would likely have some elevation changes along the way. This, to me, seemed like an ideal training exercise for the Quad snowshoe leg.

Plus, the course description read, "for beginners or experts." Hey - that's me!

In preparation for the race, I borrowed a pair of racing snowshoes from a friend. I was pleasantly surprised at the size and weight of them. These were not the old tennis rackets I remember from cartoons, they were light, and technical looking. They still looked like they'd be mighty awkward to run around on. My friend told me, "your hip flexors will not like snowshoeing, mine were sore for days."

*gulp* OK.

I rented a set of poles, thinking they might (or might not) be useful. I also bought the most useful thing ever for snow-shoeing: storm socks. Storm socks are wind proof, water proof, insulated and wicking. This seemed like a really good idea.

I borrowed a pair of gaiters (their purpose seemed obvious).

Finally, I quizzed Rural Girl to get some athlete tips on what to expect. Compared with me, Rural Girl is a pro snow-shoeist: she owns her own shoes, and she has done two races with pretty awesome times!

In a roundabout way, I asked her if she thought it was a crazy idea to do a race, having never ever strapped tennis rackets to my feet before in my life...

Rural Girl's advice: go for it!

I attempted to recruit friends to come and join me in my little training adventure. I found one friend (who is usually game for anything) who agreed to go - but I had no other takers. None. Was it the snow? Cold weather? Was it the tennis racket factor? Nobody wanted to go!

I awoke at the crack of dawn on race morning to find it foggy - very unusual for these parts - then received a phone call from my friend to say she was ill and couldn't make it. It occurred to me at this point that I could easily crawl back into bed and nobody would know. But I had the shoes and poles, and I was already awake, so what the hey! I guess I was destined to do this alone.

I got to the peak to find it was delightfully sunny and un-foggy (yaaaay!). Not knowing if my IT band would be up to the task, I had not pre-registered. However, I had left so early, I found myself at the top before a queue had formed for registration. This is not like me - I'm usually not a morning person...at all...

I stood in the freezing wind waiting to sign in and get my race number, questioning my own sanity. It was at this point that a friend and fellow runner appeared to sign up. Thank goodness he was there or I'd never have known what to do with those bloody snowshoes!

In a blur, my friend helped me strap the scary flippers to my running shoes, and then I found myself at the starting line. Among about 100 other people...a lot of runners...and hikers...they all looked like they owned their own snowshoes.

(I let them go first.)

And then, with a sound like a herd of elephants, we took off.

Did I mention I've never worn snowshoes before?

It was like running with dishes on my feet.

The trail was deep snow, with a couple inches of powder on top. Mostly it was packed by the time I got to it, but there were still areas with unpredictable, slippery footing.

Over time, my normal running gait has gone to a very efficient sort of shuffle when I run. I could not approximate this at all with snowshoes, or I could sense that I would quickly be eating snow. It was like hi-step running (or hiking) on a tempur-pedic mattress for 4 miles. I didn't have to run quite as wide as I thought I might -- the width of my gait was less of an issue than I predicted.

My butt got wet real fast (the snowshoes kick up quite a lot of snow), but it turns out this wasn't a problem. I got hot before I got cold. I probably wore too much, even. Storm socks rule! I didn't get cold until the race was over and we were standing around getting fed (it's windy on the peak).

I was able to mostly run all the way out to the turn-around (mostly downhill). After that, I mostly hiked and did some running on the way back (mostly uphill). I did not use poles - I didn't even take them at the last minute. This turned out to be a good idea. The trail was very narrow, poles would have gotten in the way.

Did I mention we were at altitude? Woof!

My time overall wasn't too awful a first-timer: 57:03. I'm happy with that, I wanted to do it in under an hour, so not bad! (OK, not great, but not bad). In retrospect (of course), I think I could probably have gone harder in the 2nd half - it was hard to push myself, as I was amongst walkers at that point so there was nobody breathing down my neck.

Then I found out the fastest time for the race was 31 minutes and change - by another guy (a runner) on his first time out ever on snowshoes.

The Santa Fe Striders (who organized the race) provided food and a raffle at the end. I think everyone left with prizes.

Overall, I have to say that snowshoeing is truly excellent cross-training for running during the winter time. It's a lot of fun - and it really is just running with awkward footwear. Don't fear the shoes!

*edit*
it's now late February, they have finally posted the results, and it's a little wacky, not quite the way I remember it. The time I posted here on my blog, 57:03, is credited to the woman who came in right in front of me - I know this because I know her, I remember chasing her for the last mile. My time is listed at 57:30, though they didn't get my name with it, just a race number. I even went and dug up the race number and yes, 'ol 76 was me - they have 57:30 for me. I don't know if it's right or not. Does it matter? Of course not.