The Race

Here I was, standing on the snowy river in Winter-land amidst a few dozen Olympic athletes about to start a triathlon. Well, they might not have been Olympic athletes for all I knew, but they definitely looked the part and I was pretty sure they would play it too. 

First leg: Snowshoe Run. Mere seconds after the horn sounded, I become astonishingly aware that this would be the greatest two kilometer lung-buster of my life. Two kilometers is nothing. Even at a fast running pace, I routinely run way farther than this on a regular basis, but suddenly I was hit with the realization of how terrible this might go.

In a snowshoe stampede my initial fear became reality for another racer. The Fall. You don't think about this much until you have two over-sized tennis racquets strapped to your feet and suddenly running becomes an entirely different sport. The trick is a wide stance. Actually, it's not a trick, it's not even just a piece of good advice, it's the only way that you can move forward without tasting an icy batch of riverbank snow during The Fall. 

Luckily, I never fell victim to The Fall. And the racer who did, well he was way past me so he was doing 'aight. The halfway point came up quicker than expected and while it certainly was no sightseeing adventure in the Great White North, the end was achievable. I stamped on.

Next up: Skate. I don't really have much to say here, skating is skating. And it IS like riding a bike. After a precarious maneuver over the snow bank to the ice course, I was off, gliding in the wind. Literally, the wind was with me the whole way there, which made the skate back a super enjoyable time. It didn't seem to slow down The Olympians and their fancy speed skates though.

Third leg: The Ski. I was actually looking forward to this part. I glide-y walked yesterday, so obviously I'm a pro here. It was snowing, the sky was really pretty and many times I had to remind myself that I wasn't out on a leisurely ski here. PICK UP THE PACE! Which is an interesting thing. I'm not entirely sure how to "pick up the pace" on cross country skis, probably because I in fact was not a pro. So I did the best I could, and made sure to enjoy the fleeting Winter around me.

In the end, almost everyone beat me. Which was fine, because I wasn't here to race a good time, I was here to have a good time. Which I did, with my BFF, Winter.