in which I kick my own a$$ a lot

Yesterday I did the Sandia Snowshoe race. I did the same race a year ago as preparation for the Mt. Taylor Quad. Here are the highlights from last year's race:

* I'd never been on snowshoes before in my life.
* I ran naked, I didn't bring Garmin.
* I went alone and ran into people I knew there.
* I was totally intimidated by all the other people there who looked like they owned their own snowshoes.
* Did I mention I'd never snowshoed before?
* Snowshoeing is really cool, and a whole lot like running with dishes on my feet.
* The race was advertised as 4miles across the Crest.
* I was happy with a sub-1hr time (57:03 or 57:30, depending on who you read).

This year, by comparison, I'm a complete pro: not only do I own my very own snowshoes, but I had actually trained for this race.

Well, Ok. By training, I mean I've been snowshoeing three times this year, at altitude. Clearly this is a huge improvement.

This year I also recruited lots of others to come with me - a host of outlaws, and my cycling/quad skiist friend Dave. He claims he's not a runner, but owns his own snowshoes too. And he's snowshoed before. By my standards, he's also a pro. My outlaw friends also own their own snowshoes - many of them came up with me a couple weeks ago to try them out.

They're also pros.

Curiously, the advertised distance for this year's race is 3.2 miles. It sounds like they shortened the course, doesn't it? No matter, 3.2 miles of snowshoeing is still plenty of playtime in the snow.

We got to the top with not a lot of time to spare - but having already been out in the snow a couple times this year, I managed to find what I needed and still be overdressed at the start line. I'm a pro, remember? I also brought Garmin for a change.

This time, instead of wearing running shoes, I wore my Keen Hiking boots. Yeah - isn't that cool? Keen make hiking boots! I told you I'm a shoe whore. They are waterproof, light, flexible, and have excellent arch support. I vascillated between running shoes and Keens, but in the end, the thought of dry, toasty warm feet won out.

So: I'm at the start line, breathless, over warm, and they start with a shout...GO!!!

(I did)

It wasn't long before I was doing my hiking than running. That elevation, no matter how you slice it, is an a$$ kicker. After the turnaround, the course is mostly up hill - so I was doing even more hiking and even less running.

Huh - that's interesting-- the turnaround is in the same place as last year. Where did they cut the course from last year, I wonder?

After the turnaround, I found myself looking around for a reason to move faster...and not finding one. It's still just as beautiful at the Crest, on the trail, in the quiet, thin, oxygenless-air. I kept trying to pick up my own pace, and then I would peter out, tired. I hiked, I ran. I hiked more. I ran less. Where's the oxygen? Disgusted with my inability to run, I refuse to look at Garmin. Along the trail is an official. I ask, are we almost there yet? He says you're 6th female.

Did I hear that right?

Eventually I hear someone breathing down my neck, and I'm torn between letting them go, and staying ahead. The "someone" is a she.

I stayed ahead.

I trotted to the end (the she behind me didn't have any fight left). I finished. I went to the board just to see - and yeah, I really was 6th female - 3rd in my agegroup! Of course, first female overall was in my age group - but who cares! Woo hoo! Garmin says 53:33 for 3.23 miles.

Still, I thought. I hiked more, and it was a shorter course. I still wish I could run more on snowshoes. I'm not all that.

Well, maybe and maybe not. My fellow outlaw Flaming Mo says it was the same course as last year. Oh really! And the more I think about it, there's nowhere an extra mile could be put in up there. I know - hard to believe, but there's no extra mile of trail from one point to another.

So I think this means that I chopped 4 minutes off of last year's time - which is significant. Go me!

After a cup of coffee we decide to mosey back to town, and on the way down the hill, Dave and I are astonished to see about 20 guys from team Astana making their way up. Team Astana, as in Contador, Leipheimer, and Kloden. Astana - the favourite for this year's Tour. I may have squealed out loud.

Did we stop and say hello? Hell yes. Believe me when I say I felt like a total tool bag. What do you say to a pro? Hi there, um, I really like your jersey. Gee your bike is purdy.

Yeah, I may have said that...and then they all kind of sidled away slowly...I was totally starstruck.

Having now shared oxygen with real, live, TDF pros, I can confirm the following to be true:

* They are not built like normal people. The saddle heights on the bikes for these guys was up somewhere near my armpit if I'm standing next to their bikes.

* They make everything look effortless - they hauled their skinny asses up our Sandia Crest like they were out for a Sunday spin. Which they were, in Tour terms. They were pushing big gears up the side of the mountain. Big. Gears.

* They are absurdly smooth on a bike. Fluid.

* They descend fearlessly. We tracked them down the mountain behind the Sheriff's truck (I love that our city has provided them with a police escort), and the guy at the back was doing 45+ mph. Maybe he wasn't feeling well. Also, a large part of the team were not wearing helmets - just insulated caps. But they did have a police escort.

* The Astana kit is really, really good looking in person.

* I didn't recognize any of them in full kit.

I'm going to see them in person again, later in the week - there will be some kind of "introduction" where Johan Bruyneel talks about them, a special dog-and-pony show. I still don't know what to say other than "I like your jersey." I have no idea who has lured them to our fair city, but good for them!

And then I kicked myself because I took NO PICTURES. AAAAGH!!!

Anyway. I had to haul ass down the mountain because I had a date with Russian makeup lady - and I'll post the pictures of me in full make up as soon as I get them. I will say oh my gaaawd, I can't believe I'm wearing makeup! Olga put makeup on my face and directed me to do what she did. I said, "that's it?" When I have found myself at the Clinique counter they put it on with a trowel - but this is so not like that. Plus, it doesn't look like a lot - because it's not. So I look exactly like me, but fresher. Sparklier.

I call it Me +1.

I'll have to drag out the fashion show for one more day...pics to come.