Around the Next Corner

Any training session can become an adventure. Sometimes it's the result of hard work: you become more efficient, train more, go farther, or reach a high point on a trail you hadn’t reached before. It can be the mental adventure you create for yourself. The adventure of exploring a new opportunity or pushing past a limit, setting a new personal best. Sometimes it is as easy as going somewhere new and exploring the surrounding areas, adventuring with every step you take. The challenge with adventuring somewhere new is that it can be bigger than you are ready for or take more time than you have. At the recent altitude training camp in Mammoth, I had a session that illustrates that perfectly.

It was planned for a four-hour day, and I would be going mixed modes. Starting the day with an hour of classic roller skiing before switching to running. The route I had planned to run was new to me. I had never run that area near June Lake before. My goal was to run from Silver Lake to Agnew Lake, then loop around Gem Lake. The route was supposedly 20.0km with 1,287m of ascent, peaking at a max elevation of 3,065m. I compared it to a run I had done a week earlier, still in Canmore, where I ran 23 km in 3:15, with about 1,000m of ascent. Comparable, or so I thought. So I figured I could cover the circuit in the three hours I planned. But I always knew the timing would be tight. I needed to be efficient, and everything had to be nearly perfect.

I knew how serious the objective was, and I felt some nerves even before I started. I was almost shaking as I switched from roller skiing to running. Maybe I should have heeded my intuition or taken a breath to relax before I started my charge up the hill.

From the start, the trail went uphill and continued uphill for the next hour as I kept a brisk pace. So, I should have realized I'd have to change plans. And for the first time, I thought about a plan B: how far or at what time could I go before I needed to abort and turn around? I hadn’t thought about a plan B until then. But when I reached the top of the climb, after covering only five kilometres in the first hour, I probably already knew I wouldn’t complete the circuit. But I still charged bravely out onto the trail. There was always a chance; now that I was up at Gem Lake, the trail hugged the lake to the far side. I guessed that as I went around the lake, the trail would meander along the shore. A flatter, smoother trail would let me cover significantly more distance. If that was the case, I might make it around. So, I kept going, hopeful I could complete the run as planned. I set my turnaround time for 1:45, but as time went by, I got closer to that checkpoint and wasn’t covering the distance I needed. What I hoped would be a smooth coastal trail wasn't. The undulating trail kept me from covering much distance. And eventually I came to 1:45 of running. It was time to decide whether to keep going and try to complete the circuit or turn around. As much as my heart wanted to complete the loop, if it took longer, others would be waiting for me. If I had been there myself, I probably would have continued, but I needed to be responsible, and I couldn’t just think about my own objectives; I needed to return to the car in a timely fashion. Respecting everyone’s time. With one more check of the map, I saw I had closed the gap to half distance, but hadn’t reached it yet. Nor had I reached the high point either. Looking at the profile, the harder half of the circuit was only starting. I guessed the whole loop would take me four hours, maybe even a touch more. It was not the decision I wanted to make, but I knew it was the one that had to be made. I turned around and went back the way I came.

I started my way back to the car. As I went back, I slowly realized the terrain along the lake had taken longer than I had thought, and I was falling behind on my previous checkpoints and timings. I needed to push the pace. My safe estimate for the descent was that I needed to return to the top of the starting climb with 45 minutes left. Well, I didn’t make it. I was a good ten minutes over. By this point, I accepted I would be late; I was running back down to limit the overage. I pushed the descent to its reasonable limits. I learned another lesson: take more water than you think you'll need. Usually in Canmore, two 500ml flasks of water (and/or sport drink) would be enough. This time, in the heat and nearing 3000m, I was going through water faster than I thought. I had a backup water filter, and along Gem or Agnew Lake I could have grabbed additional water, but as I went over the edge for the final descent, I thought I had just enough, and I would make it; even if it was just the last bit, I did so without water. It was a concern, but I didn’t panic. There was no need to. If I'd figured the run would take any longer, yes, I would have gone and grabbed more water. As I neared the parking lot, I started to see my timing swing the other way, this time to the positive. In the end, I returned to the parking lot three seconds over.

Another training day became quite the adventure, with a few lessons learned. I will try not to repeat some; I might plan differently next time. If I can help it, I'll try the Gem Lake circuit again, but with smarter decisions and more time planned. As we train, some adventures don’t work out. That is the balance needed as an athlete. Sometimes we need to balance objectives: the prescribed workout, specific intervals, distance, and times, and on other days, what the brain wants, what the heart desires and what the body is telling you. Quality training sometimes means saying no, or turning around, when all you want to do is keep going.  

That run was just one day at another fantastic altitude camp in Mammoth Lakes, California. Returning to the familiar roads and trails of the Eastern Sierras for the eleventh time. It was a pleasure to return knowing the quality of training that Mammoth Lakes offers.

After wrapping up another edition of the Mammoth camp in early October, I spent the next two weeks catching up on school and preparing for the semester's first exams. Missing most of the semester's lectures added some stress, but I used some of the rest week to focus on studying and catching up.

Next up was a return to Munich and taking on LoopOne. After last year’s inaugural event, the roller ski races in Munich's Olympic Park celebrated their second year. To kick off the season, the event brought the World’s best Biathletes together for the first races of the season. It was a very special event, and an honour to be invited back for a second year. This year I was joined by two teammates, which added to the experience. I was happy with my performance; I would have loved to win, but I could only take second place after two misses and dropping my pole in the range. The range, penalty loop, and start/finish areas are all built on a temporary stage, so when I planted my pole to get up off the mat after the second bout, the tip jammed into the rubber or plywood under the carpet. That sensation felt normal; it usually means my Leki pole strap locked into the handle. However, when I released my hand, the pole wasn’t attached. A dumb mistake or a bit of fuzziness from the long trip to Munich, jet lag, whatever you want to call it, it didn’t help me! But so didn’t missing two shots in the second bout. I was proud that, amid last year's chaos, I learned from it, and I believe I learned a lot about racing in general and how to better prepare for this year’s LoopOne. I put those lessons to the test, and I believe I performed better. That was the goal for me. Preparing for this event isn't ideal, but that's part of the fun and the challenge: seeing how I react to less-than-ideal situations and still perform. There were several small things where I was pleased with how I performed.

After the whirlwind of LoopOne, I'm back in Canmore for more (I hope) consistent training, including the first skiing on snow of the year. Frozen Thunder is back, opening on October 17.  With winter already feeling like it is fast approaching, the first ski of the year only accelerates that feeling tenfold. With just over two weeks until the season's first official races.