It’s been two weeks since Tyler and I finished the Little Su 50k race. For those who don’t know, the Little Su 50k is an Alaska Winter wilderness race. You can either bike, ski, or run the race. I biked the race about 4 years ago, and remember having to push my bike quite a bit. So this year, Tyler and I decided to classic ski the race. Actually, Tyler decided he wanted to participate in the race, and I joined because, why not? 

Now, leading up to this Winter, I had only classic skied a few times (with proper form), and Tyler hadn’t really classic skied. We were intent on learning a new skill and all of the challenges that brings. We signed up for lessons, but they were cancelled. We took a classic ski waxing class, and watched videos online to learn about wax and technique. We were both able to put in long days before the race. I was happy with my 20 mile day and a handful of 15ish mile days beforehand. I put in a lot of work all Fall and early Winter gaining strength, and was feeling confident about my physical fitness. 

Then, in late December, I started to fatigue fairly quickly. I kept pushing through and figured it was from all of my training. However, a week before the race, my body completely crashed. I don’t remember ever feeling that tired in recent history. Turns out, my iron level had plummeted since November (the true cause of that level of fatigue is still unknown but is being worked up with some interesting results so far). My ‘taper week’ turned into a week on the couch after work every night. The day before the race, Tyler asked if I wanted to scratch from the race. In my mind, that was not an option. I had fit in an iron infusion two days before the race, slept quite a bit, and worked on my hydration. So I sucked it up, hoped for good weather, and woke up feeling fairly well prepared. I was determined not to let my fatigue stop me.  

We had a somewhat leisurely morning, and then drove the hour and half north of Anchorage to Happy Trails Kennel in Big Lake. We signed in, packed our bags, and finished waxing our skis after testing them out on the snow. Conditions seemed like they were going to be fast. We lined up a the start with the four other skiers (they were all skate skiers) and the crowd of bikers and runners. 

And then we were off. I was feeling good as I glided down the hill from the kennel, passing runner and bikers. Then, in the flats, the crowd started to thin. Tyler and I found a good pace as the last of the bikers passed us. Soon we were out of the swamp and into the woods. One runner ran by us and told us that she was excited to see people skiing again. Her encouragement felt nice, and I was proud of all of the work I put in to learn to classic ski this year. I was still feeling pretty good until we hit a roller coaster section of small hills. My body started to feel frazzled and when we came to another flat open area, I said, “I have to stop.” We pulled off the trail and fueled up on snacks and water. Tyler pulled out his phone, and found that we were ahead of pace. No wonder I felt so strange. I had not pushed myself that hard during any of my training skis. My body was working hard.

Soon, more runners started to catch us and pass us, so we joined the flock again just as my co-worker was running by. After a bit of a flat section, we hit the larger hilly section of the course. And just as we turned out onto the main trail, a few packs of snow machines (snowmobiles) started to pass us. They came by in large groups, so we finally just pulled off to the side of the trail and let them all pass. They had chopped up the trail, but we didn’t mind because it made the snow softer for our skis. I did feel bad for the runners though as I watched them running in the chopped up snow ahead of us. It looked like they were running in sand at the beach, and I did not envy them. As we pushed through the hills, I felt slow. I kept wondering when we were going to reach the halfway point. My skis started to skitter as the amount of wax left on them dwindled. Finally, after leaving the hills and snow covered lakes behind, we reached the aide station.

Tyler and I took our sweet time eating snack, hydrating and re-waxing our skis at the aide station (our skis definitely ran out of wax as we double poled into the station). It felt so nice to just be standing still. In fact, I pondered the quickest way back to the kennel and whether or not I really needed to finish the whole race. Of course, the time came to leave the small oasis of an outdoor bench, a tarp to pee behind, and friendly faces of volunteers, and we continued on our way as more runners started to pass. 

A few miles later, we ran into friends who were volunteering for the 100 mile race. Seeing their faces gave new energy to the day, and we powered on ahead. I even got overly confident on a downhill and thought that I could just straight-line rather than snow plowing….I’m not that skilled. As I was falling, I thought, “this is how I break my leg and get my ride back to the kennel. Next thing I knew, I was laying on the trail, sorting out my skis so that I could stand up again. After recovering from the crash and continuing with my peppy pace, we made it to the 20 mile mark (90 mile mark for the 100 mile race). With 10 miles to go, I put my head down and plodded toward the finish. We kept passing our runner friends and then would stop for a snack and they would pass us. We discussed among us whether skiing or running the race was harder. We both thought the other. As we crept closer and closer to the finish, we wondered how long it would take to get there. The sun started to set, and I got it in my mind that I wanted to finish before the sun went down. 

We finally made it to where the trails converged and we knew we were on the home stretch. We paused for a quick photo-op with the gnomes who pointed the way to the finish. After crossing the railroad tracks, I could feel the finish coming. Suddenly, a pack of bikers passed us. It was the lead pack from the 100 mile race. We watched them quickly disappear and discussed the mechanical advantages of a bikes. We were still happy to be skiing. 

As the sky darkened, we saw the lights turn on at the kennel in the distance. We were almost there! But then the trail took a right hand turn, out around another swamp. Our spirits sank as we kept going, knowing that we were so close. I had forgotten about the meandering trail back to he kennel. Finally, we popped out of the trees on the home stretch up to the kennel. I paused for a minute at the top of the hill waiting for Tyler before crossing the finish line. We sprinted to the finish (or what felt like sprinting) and felt a out of our element with volunteers trying to talk to us (the finish photos show our looks of confusion) after spending all day in the quiet wilderness with just the sound of our skis and each other. Finally, we took off our skis, walked inside, and plopped ourselves down in some chairs. We had finished! And it only took 7.5 hours which was much faster than we had anticipated! After resting and congratulating our runner friends, we concluded our day and drove back home. 

Upon reflection, I felt strong after finishing the race. My legs didn’t feel too tired immediately after crossing the finish line. I mostly just felt an overall sense of fatigue from being out in the cold all day and working so hard. Even the next day, I didn’t feel that sore. A few days later, I started to feel my muscles and the reminder of what I had accomplished. Maybe my rest week before the race actually helped? Maybe my body has just learned to endure over the years? Whatever the case, I am grateful for my mental fortitude and my body that allows me to keep pushing through my active life with Crohn’s and an ostomy.