I am super pleased and proud to announce that I was chosen to be an ambassador in 2014 for the company INKnBURN! INKnBURN is based in Orange County, California, and designs and manufactures all of their vivid and unique fitness products there, which means no outsourcing! All of their styles are created with endurance runners in mind, but everything crosses over easily to other activities and endeavors, and even work and play. Their focus, goals, and processes are outlined here. As a small company, they are about much more than just high profit margins and a bottom line. They are involved in the fitness community, and are truly interested in providing amazing clothing for training and racing that help athletes achieve their goals in comfort and style. I’m really looking forward to bringing INKnBURN along this year on all of my Alaskan adventures! To try out any of their goodies for 15% off, use code INBSK14 at checkout!
Tag Archives: marathon
Willow Winter Solstice Race Recap
The single word that best sums up Saturday’s Willow Winter Solstice trail run is “pivotal”. While my performance had nothing to do with that designation, time, place, and company were everything. Some of the turning points from the run are:
As the only declared “runner” in my little nuclear family unit, I’ve generally doomed myself to lonely race days. I sometimes have my tiny fan club at the finish line, but I’ve taken myself to 5 of my last 6 races. With small boys, and a sometimes long wait time between start and finish, it often makes more sense that way.
For this run, I was trying to figure out the logistics of racing in possibly finicky weather conditions as a nursing mama with a hungry infant waiting with a daddy who was also entertaining a preschooler. Overall, the situation sounded pretty selfish of me. Inspiration hit, and I emailed the race director. She was prompt in her reply that the 5k was indeed a fun run, and my kiddos would be welcome on the course. I registered both John and myself for what would be a first 5k for 3 of the 4 of us.
Usually, my pre-race prep involves the following list: Shoes? Check. Shorts? Check. Sports bra? Check and done. For this weekend, I wasn’t even certain where I should begin. Do I even need my running shoes? Can I use those with snowshoes, or just spikes? Should I just wear snow boots? How many clothing layers will be warm enough, but not too warm?
Last year, the run, which also hosts a half and full marathon, was held in -30* weather. This year, the forecast predicted temps in the 20’s and some snowfall. Since I planned on not actually running much, due to the dual tasks of coaxing a 4 year old through 3 miles of snow and simultaneous babywearing, I opted for slightly warmer layers. I ended up with fleecy tights under ski pants, snow boots, an Icebreaker top, fleece, and light water-resistant shell. John and Silas layered similarly. I put Skye in fleecy onesie jammies and a plush bear-suit, with socks on both his hands and feet, and planned to fit him into a front-carrier with a fluffy blanket covering the whole assembly.
Even though I’ve been going to the gym regularly since Skye was three weeks old, I’m not even close to being fit enough to actually run a 5k. On the treadmill, I’m up to half a mile at a time, which is a joke compared to the effort it takes to run three miles in 8” of fresh snow. The most liberating part was that none of that mattered. Brushing all preconceived notions about racing aside, my biggest goal for the day was to have a memorable day with my family in the beautiful place we live.
The particular day of the year for the run represents the largest scale pivot point of the day. The first true day of winter is really something to celebrate in Alaska, because from here on out, the days are just getting longer. I’m pleased to say that the short days really haven’t been “that” bad. Our sunrises have been around 10am, with sunsets at 4pm. That leaves a modest portion of the day with sunlight. It really only messes with my head on days I don’t work, when getting ready for the day with a cup of coffee mysteriously lasts until lunch.
The Race Course
The race site was a little over an hour up the Parks Highway from home. We left around 7am for the Willow Community Center. The driving directions from the race website only said “Parks Highway, Mile 70”, which turned out to be completely adequate. In the Community Center, I took the opportunity to see what the other runners were wearing. Everyone was in running shoes, some with spikes or snow tires, and some with gaiters, some without. Black running tights, presumably fleece lined, were the universal choice, with a variety of running jackets concealing whatever top layers were chosen. Everyone was topped with a headlamp, including us, as it was the only required equipment. Start time was 9am, and still in the dark.
The three of us pinned on our race bibs, I situated the baby, and it was time to go! John was feeling ambitious, and started out encouraging Silas to try to run, at least to hurry, but the attempt turned out to be futile, for a few reasons. For one, the newer snow layer was soft and deep, turning every step into a trudge. Mainly though, Si is 4. “Sense of urgency” is not a factor in his MO. He spent at least 2 miles of the 5k holding my hand and jabbering away.
The 5k course was easy enough to follow: out across a field, down a road, around a lake to the turnaround, then back. Taking up the tail end made it even easier to navigate: in the hour before sunrise we only had to follow the twinkle of bobbing headlamps.
The three of us marched along over the snowy landscape, with the baby sleeping snuggly. About 2/3 of the way to the turn around, it started getting lighter and we began crossing paths with the actual runners on their way back. Every runner we passed appeared to be struggling with the resistance the snow was providing. Only one runner was in snowshoes, but that seemed like the smartest idea of all. I really wished I had been in mine. A few runners looked downright annoyed, and I had a hard time imagining signing up for 26.2 or even 13.1 miles of that abuse, though I may feel differently next year.
After passing the lake, which was indiscernible from a snowy meadow, we made a right to the turn around, which was a woman in a red jacket. At the halfway point, John, who had been trying to maintain some dignity by at least hiking quickly, gave in to our casual plodding pace. He even pulled out his e-cig, which is quite the epic sight during a 5k.
As the sun rose, we were able to take in our surroundings, which was nothing short of absolute serenity. We trudged on, and the community center came into view. During our final approach to the finish, cheering and shouting began, and we were surprised by the little crowd that was waiting to usher us in, even though we had easily taken twice as long as the next runner before us.
Inside we were greeted with hot soup and the relief of no more slogging through the snow. We stayed until 11, two hours after the gun, and no half marathoners had returned. When the results posted two days later, I saw 2:20 (men’s) and 2:46 (women’s) were the 13.1 winning times, and the first marathoner came in at 4:36 (5:37 for women). Winter events are certainly a different kind of racing in Alaska.
This run did turn out to be a meaningful way to celebrate the winter solstice. Though we still have plenty of winter to go, potentially until May, the days are indeed getting longer, albeit quite slowly. Because the idea of the longer races holds very little appeal at the present moment, I’m thinking the 5k would make an amazing family tradition. Every year will present something new and unexpected: wildly different conditions to plan for and navigate through, as well as adapting to the changing and developing abilities of my two little boys. It will take years, and plenty of practice, but we may even reach a point as a family that this 3.1 mile, first-day-of-winter race is, in fact, a run.
I love a good project. I love to learn what tools, skills, and materials I need to start and finish the project, be it making, building, or learning something new. I love to marvel at how my life will be improved upon completion of the project.
“I’ll never have to buy eggs again after I build a chicken coop!”
“My feet will always be warm after I knit this sock pattern!”
“My life will be complete when I learn to churn my own butter!”
The only problem lies in the disconnect between the idea of the project and the actual completion of the project, which is best expressed by this illustration from Dirk’s Big Bunny Blog:
Most of my projects live out their lives in the realm of my perpetual thought bubble. Fortunately, I know this situation is not hopeless. I have many projects that have come to fruition over the years, it’s just that my ratio of planned to completed is not very good. Alaska, though, seems like the perfect venue for improving that ratio and honing my follow-thru skills. I expect that exceptionally well developed DIY skills could be quite the boon in Alaska. Hungry? Go catch a fish. Chilly? Knit up some mittens. Bored? Play some guitar, make some soap, or put a new addition on the house.
In true “me” style, I already have quite the list of Alaska projects living and thriving in my thought bubble.
Knitting is one area where I’ve, at least, already acquired some essential skills. At several points, I’ve even sold some of my projects. Most of my knitting has consisted of small projects, mainly hats and beanies. I’m particularly proud of an almost-finished sweater. I followed the Central Park Hoodie pattern, and used the exact yarn from the model photo because I loved it so much. The only hang-up with this sweater is that I started it back in March…of 2010. I’m now publicly committing to completing it before crossing the border into Alaska.
It appears that other knitters have been able to finish the same sweater in a few weeks to a month. I’m hoping the finished product will give me the confidence and drive to start having my knitting turn over as quickly. I’ve been on Ravelry an unhealthy amount of time lately, and my knitting queue now has 20 different projects, including more sweaters, a few baby things, and couple choices for my holy grail of knitting projects: a man sweater that will actually be worn. If long Alaskan winter nights are any assistance to my knitting ambitions, churning out one per month seems reasonable, and gives me almost two years of happily busy fingers. My current rate of 3+ years per item puts me knitting into the grave. The former option sounds much more pleasant.
I’ve ambitiously owned a guitar, an antique that belonged to my grandmother, for 13 years. Once I was able to recognizably strum out the first few bars of “Under the Bridge”, but that’s about it. The aforementioned Alaskan winter nights, ideally, will prompt a quicker ascent on my learning curve, particularly since we’ve decided to not turn on cable.
Decorative wallhanging no more.
Even though we’re, truth be told, probably going to be living in the ‘burbs, I still can’t shake the image of Alaskan frontier living. Canning, soap making, eating seasonally, tending chickens and pigs, milking my own goat, and ample hunting and fishing to stock the freezer are all fairly essential elements to my Alaskan dream. My experience in those areas ranges from “Some” to “Zero”, but I’m working on it bit by bit. Yesterday I whipped up a fabulous batch of mayo, and Sunday I’m planning on butchering a chicken. I make no prediction on the outcome of the chicken; it might walk away unscathed. However, I do feel it’s a certain rite of passage in omnivore-hood. I’m hoping that certain conditions in Alaska will make my homesteading plans morph from whimsy to mandatory. If tomatoes in January cost $12 a pound, all the better.
One of my most pivotal ideas that became victimized by project-block was running a marathon. I had at least three false starts, where I picked a race, started a training plan, and then completely derailed after a couple weeks. I can’t pinpoint the cause of those failures, because I was indeed finally successful in running 26.2 miles when I raced in a 50k, which is over 30 miles. After that, I ran a marathon a few months later “just for fun”.
I suppose the ideal running conditions that come with living in San Diego at the time had plenty to do with it, as well as being a bit older, somewhat more disciplined, and having actual responsibilities that were a pleasure to get away from for just a little while. Regardless, running long is in me now, but I know year-round living in Alaska will certainly present some challenges. I will likely have to invest in both a treadmill (the horror!) and these beauties to keep up with 50k’s, move on to 50 milers, 100k’s, and beyond, in what promises to be the most amazing terrain and trails I can imagine.
Last Thoughts on Thought Bubbles
I realize that my particular situation in Alaska will not mandate that I actually complete any of these. I’m certainly not, in the near future, going to starve without a self-caught and filleted salmon, or freeze without a homemade quilt. But Alaskan living adds a certain quality to self-sufficiency. Day to day responsibilities, having a job, taking care of a family, and not a small sprinkling of flat out procrastination have made the back burners of my life much more crowded than the front. The time is now to address all of those pots, add seasoning, and bring them to a boil.