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Five in Fifteen
March 2002
by Saul Goldman
Once you have done the impossible everything is possible.
I have found inspiration along life’s path from a number of individuals. They have taught me to do the impossible. These are the guys who do the Marathon every year, regardless of the weather. These are the ones who fill up their World Loppet Passports with stamps from around the globe. They don’t do it alone. Each one has been inspired by a hero who did the impossible.
Humans have a poor memory for pain otherwise women would never have more than one child each and skiers would never attempt more than one marathon. My wife and I have 2 children and I signed up for another go at the CSM 2002 Bronze Couere d’Bois I also registered for the 50k classic and 50k skate Keskinada Loppet the following weekend and topped this double Sunday with a cherry, The 50k American Birkenbiener.
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When I first started participating in marathon skiing events I would focus my training efforts on one event per winter. I assumed it was folly to consider more in a single winter. In ‘86 I completed the 160 km CSM Bronze by the skin of my teeth. I was hypothermic and barely able to walk. I swore I would never do anything that torturous again. The following year I chose the Gatineau 55 as my next goal…shorter faster and only one day. It was tough with Penguin hill, treacherous descents, the wind blown, frosty traverse of Meech Lake followed by the unrelenting climb to the Champlain Lookout. It was a tough but it was an annual yardstick by which I could measure my skiing skills.
The second weekend in February is reserved for The Canadian Ski Marathon, a two day Marathon that spans the wilderness trail between Ottawa and Montreal (Buckingham-La Chutes). This winter showered us with marginal snow cover in the eastern part of Canada. In the best of times this rugged trail can challenge the most skilled skiers. Add thin snow-cover, plentiful rocks, branches, icy ruts, with elevation changes to question your sanity and you have a recipe for survival skiing.
At 6:00am a spirited Santa Clause led the charge of skiers into the dark icy trail. At 7:00am the first glancing ray of golden sunlight skipped across the rolling landscape like the brushstrokes of Lawren Harris. I arched my back stretching for the suns warmth. By 7:30 her rays bathed me in warmth at -19C.
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The rolling farmland and dense woodland unfolded like a recurring dream. Sixteen years ago I gingerly slid over these same hills. This was a reverse year. The Marathon runs north to south, with the longer hillier trail reserved for the second day. Would 16 years of skiing experience be enough? I knew how to wax, I knew to eat before I was hungry and drink before I was thirsty, but was my training enough for my multi-marathon challenge? I found my pace, skiing past back-pack laden CB-golds, and carefree family tourers. The feedstations were a buzz of friendly familiar faces and enthusiastic volunteers. Many were familiar from training sessions at my home trails. My previous marathon was a race against the 3:00pm cutoff time for entering the last section. It was 12:30 when I arrived this time. No danger of skipping the early morning start for tomorrow. I am now irrevocably committed to the completion of this day’s marathon and at least starting tomorrow’s stage. The well manicured ski trails of the Chateau Montebello heralded my arrival at the day’s destination. The trail wound through the streets of Montebello, past the tennis courts and a sunny conclusion in front of this historic log Chateau, a proud relic of elegant days of rail travel and gracious living.
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Marathon#2, Day 2
The weather forecast promised warmer temperatures, and wet snow turning to rain in the afternoon. We adjusted our wax/klister mix for the warmer forecast and prayed that the rain would hold off until we finished skiing. Day 2 spans 85km of vicious hills on a thinner icier base. This included the infamous section 3. Every Marathon skier has a section 3 story. Last time at the bottom of a steep icy decent I missed a corner and shot into the woods coming to rest next to a large hard bolder. My rest was short lived as the next skier followed my tracks landing on top of me and snapped one of my poles. Would skiing section 3 southbound be easier? Upon entering section three I was advised to carry my skis down the road, over the bridge and yes, use extreme caution on the 4km decent that follows the equally steep 4km climb. What they neglected to mention was that the first 2km uphill had been scraped clear of snow by logging operations on the trail. I stumbled up the trail over a curious mix of sand, gravel and snow with broken branches thrown in just for fun. The trail finally started to level out into a series of abrupt up and down sections. Without too much warning, just another yellow caution sign, it began. The bobsled run to end all bobsled runs. It was covered in ice loose snow and rocks. It wound down what looked like a steep winding logging chute. I dragged my butt more than once, as no amount of self hypnosis, positive imaging and focus could keep me on my feet. This decent into a frozen inferno left one positive thought in my bruised head; “this is as bad as it is going to get”. The rest of the trail and for that matter the rest of all trails would be a piece of cake.
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Ahead of me I recognized a familiar backpack wielding skier. Don Kirby had skied many section threes over the years. On his pack he caries a picture of Jackrabbit Johannson, the hero who brought skiing to North America. Jackrabbit has been gone for a number of years but one skier is inspired enough to ensure that he still skis the marathon trail.
Snow began to lightly fall as I entered the last section. It was mixed occasionally with ice pellets. The high humidity and near zero temperature were just enough to keep the wax on my skis from icing up, as long as I could keep my skis sliding. The snow pack was becoming noticeably thinner as I entered the suburban park near LaChutes. At 4:00pm I slid across the last checkpoint. I emptied my fanny pack and wrapped myself in warm-up clothes in anticipation of the rapid cool down that inevitably follows this type of effort. Then it poured.
Two down and 3 easy marathons to go
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Marathon #3, Day 7
The Gatineau Hills near Ottawa are home to some of the best skiing. It is also home to Canada’s World Loppet event, the Keskinada, formerly the Gatineau 55.
I chatted with another skier about various events that we had both skied. He casually mentioned how he skied all ten World Loppets in the same winter. I asked if he had written an article about his odyssey. This was the same article I read some years ago. Stuart Stevens inspired me to rethink what was possible.
Today it’s a 50km classic, followed by a 50km skate tomorrow. The mild temperatures and old transformed snow have resulted in universal klister conditions. This is a familiar trail I have enjoyed skiing it many times in the past. Usually it is cold to extreme. The mild temperatures are a welcome relief. The gun signals the start, the gate flies open and we’re off. I double pole gingerly, trying to keep my poles close by and protected from the stampede. As the pack heads into the first curve the skier in front of me goes down taking me with. Then snap, the skier behind me goes right through my pole. I dust myself off, get up and reassess my race strategy. I like to push hard off the line, burning up my pre-race gitters and get ahead of potential bottlenecks. After a couple of kilometers I ease into a sustainable steady pace. So much for plan A. Plan B calls for a slow start and constant acceleration to the finish. I make my way to the pole replacement station about 500m from my disastrous start and wave for a replacement. With the new pole I ease into plan B. I catch up to the tail end of my wave and slowly start passing the trailing skiers as we sputter with freshly klistered skis over the trail. Faceplants are a common site as the klister sticks to the loose snow out of the track. Passing and avoiding faceplanted skiers is a real chore, forcing me to stick with plan B, start slow…save it for the finish. I wind through the woods as the trail rolls steadily towards the parkway. The wide four lane parkway, opens up the pace with plenty of opportunities to pass and be passed. I gently climb over the Notch Road to hear the familiar cheer of a couple of friends. Their encouragement ups my pace. Over the Notch the trail levels out and heads towards the intersection of the Champlain Parkway where we will ski on our return journey. The 25k skiers are just reaching this turnaround. Santa Clause with his unmistakable gold pack on his back has a substantial lead on his hammerhead rivals. This was the very same inspirational Santa Clause who led the Marathon last week. After a long decent I reached the Penguin Hill feed station I loaded up on fluids for the long climb ahead and turned off the Parkway. The hill is a series of steep narrow, wooded pitches that continue for a couple of kilometers. It finally deposits you on the Ridge Road close to the high point on the trail. This climb with few opportunities for passing is a mine field of mind games. Self-doubt is the culprit that claims most skiers here. I struggled with my broken pole at the start, the speeding ticket on the way to Ottawa, my broken pole at Engadin in Switzerland last winter and the broken pole at the CSM in ‘86. I was digging deep into the dark recesses of my mind for all these negative images. As I reached the Ridge Road it occurred to me that this is the halfway point in my 5-in-15 challenge and I was feeling pretty strong. I am making good time and will probably beat my last year’s time. Tomorrow the temperature will drop and this warm granular snow will be a fast and easy skate. I turned it around. I picked up the pace and smiled. The Ridge Road rolls gently up and down and into the woods where it finally turns back on itself and heads towards the Champlain Lookout with its spectacular view of the Ottawa Valley below. This is the halfway point in distance but the return is mostly downhill and will take considerably less time. I will beat last year’s time. The wide open sunny parkways lead back to the finish with some long thigh burning descents and a few gentle climbs. The skyline of Ottawa/Hull heralds my arrival at the southern turnaround. This is the last feed station before the finish. On the fly I load up with a couple of warm energy drinks and head off into the woods for the last couple of winding kilometers. This is where I pour it on in accordance with plan B. Passing skier after skier, I spot a welcome site, the 500 meters sign. I pick a lane and push on to the finish. I beat my last years time and I am more than halfway though my 5-in-15.
Marathon #4, Day 8
This is the easy one: 50km Skate Keskinada. I have done this many times over the years. The trail is familiar, waxing is simple, and I should awake to fast re-frozen granular snow and a sunny and mild -8C. What is that sound? I awaken to the sound of a snow plow. Out of the window of my hotel I see a whirlwind of snow blowing around the dark streets below. It looks like about a foot of fresh snow heaped on the parked cars. So much for fast and easy glide.
On the starting field I position myself near the front of my wave. My strategy is to guard my poles and set an easy pace and warm up to a sustainable steady speed that I can accelerate to the finish.
The gun sounds, the gate is up and I’m off. I carefully thread my path though the winding start area into the narrow chute and finally out to the parkway. My two poles were still intact. The first climb heads up to Pink Lake. The effect of the soft, fresh snow is obvious. It is slow. I stick to my strategy and maintain a steady warmup pace, passing some skiers and being passed by others. The glide down the other side is noticeably slower that usual. My pace is just as I planned. I load up on drinks and one fruit bar to fortify myself for the climb up the Penguin Hill. My mind fades into autopilot as I grind up this familiar trail. As I crest the top I am greeted by cheers of recognition, “Go Saul go”, inspiring me to push-off the top and onto the flat. The pack of skiers is thin enough for me to ski at my own pace and I accelerate as I wind through the narrow rolling wooded trail. The next feed is on top of a short steep climb. I scoot up and refuel on the fly. I am now nearing the northern turn-around point. The mostly downhill return to the finish, from this point on is wide open parkways and guaranties a quicker coverage of the second half. At the Champlain Lookout I am feeling good, It’s downhill from here. The snow on the parkway is soft. It is softest at the sides where fewer skiers have ventured. The long thigh-burning descents are longer and more burning at the slow glide speeds. It’s not my wax, I am still out-gliding most skiers. It is the slow fresh snow.
Going uphill is even slower. The softer snow at the sides makes passing slower skiers more taxing. By the time I reach the Pink Lake Feed the expected parkway return advantage has evaporated. I am now faced with doing my best and trying to stick to my plan. I muster my strength to pass as many skiers as I can. Many of them are suffering from the effects of the distance and the slow return. These were the same skiers that passed me in the first half. I crested the bridge and turned into the woods for the last couple of kilometers. I pushed over the last narrow section to the 500 meter sign. I accelerated with a one-skate into the 25 meter finish straight, passing two skiers before the line.
I was 20 minutes slower than last year but the winning time was 30 minutes slower than last year. I actually moved up about 100 places over last year.
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Marathon #5, Day 15
The American Birkenbiener is an event that has evaded me. I registered to ski it in 1998. Poor snow conditions resulted in a shortening to 25km…hardly worth the 15 hour drive to Hayward Wisconsin. In 2000 I again registered to see a major rain storm wash away the entire event. We monitored trail conditions very closely over the internet. It was marginal all of February. The base depths ranged from 4 inches in the north section with zero in the south. This was an unusually mild winter east of the Rockies. Lakes that freeze up in December were still wide open. It looked like the Birkie was headed for another bad winter. At this point, after 4 marathons in 8 days and a scratchy throat I wasn’t too disappointed. On Tuesday morning, we decided to put our Wednesday departure on hold. On Wednesday we saw the posting on the Birkie web site. A snow storm had dumped 10 inches of snow on the trail. Thursday morning at 7:00am we were on the road to Hayward Wisconsin. We picked up our bibs at the Telemark Resort Friday afternoon and went out for an easy ski on the trail. The resort was a buzz with the activity of a World Loppet. Festivities included; product displays, equipment demos and seminars, including a reading by Bill McKibbon from his inspiring book, “A year of Living Strenuously”. He tells the story of a regular person who chooses to take year off, to train and ski like an elite racer. That evening we enjoyed the Pasta Dinner at the Community Centre in Cable, Wisconsin. Volunteers dished out generous helpings of spaghetti to hungry skiers while young Girl Scouts removed dirty dishes as fast or faster that we could empty their delicious contents.
We arrived at the start field at 8:00am. It was -5C and a light drizzle was falling. My throat was irritated and my head was stuffy with the early signs of a cold. My goal for this event was simple, just complete the distance. At 8:45 I took a spot 3 rows in from the front line of my wave. Standing in front of me was a guy wearing a long blonde woman’s wig and corduroy knickers. Nearby were two Superman-caped skiers and right next to me was Bill McKibbon.
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The gun sounded and we are off. The wide open trail made for a surprisingly civilized charge. The snow was fast and firm. The challenge was to avoid colliding with the skier who couldn’t stay on top of their skis. The wide Birkie trail was a winding roller coaster course through the north woods. The terrain is similar to the stuff I’m used to in Southern Ontario. If you can get a good run on the descents the climbing is minimal. Feedstations appeared at regular intervals. The enthusiastic volunteers were proficient at handing out drinks and gels on the fly. This made it easy to maintain my momentum, or is that inertia, after four marathons. After passing the turnoff for the Korteloppet skiers I felt the speed returning to my legs and arms. I was passing more skiers than were passing me. The Patriotic Stars and Stripes theme of this post-September-11 event was evident throughout the course. The 2002 Birkie Poster and ski stickers featured “Old Glory”. Up ahead was a wall of ascending skiers dancing to the beat of the drum. At the side were Top-Hat clad Uncle Sams waiving us up Bitches’ Hill. Johnny Canuck in his Maple Leaves couldn’t resist. I took off and bolted past the double conga line of Yankees. I was inspired. I looked around at the skiers I was now passing. They wore 3,000 and 2,000 series bibs, not the 4000’s I started with back in my wave. This felt good. On one climb I heard a spectator yell’ “Look at that wave 4 skier go.” All this fuel for my engine means more than just doing the distance. I was passing skiers and I felt good. Off in the distance I heard the unmistakable sound of a PA system and the cheering crowds. The end is at hand. As I crested the last hill I could see the finish ahead. I poured it on. With an accelerating one-skate I sprinted to the finish. Beyond the finish there was an array of tables with numbers. I headed for the #4 figuring that matched my wave start. Instead of handing me a Birkie Completion Pin I was directed to table #1 where I was handed a big Bronze Medallion reserved for first time Birkie skiers.
I have done the impossible. I have done the possible. My heroes have taught me about my capabilities. Without their inspiring example it truly would be impossible.
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