I just did ball pikes, and my injured rib aches each time I thrust upwards. Today’s an easy day, ending with some ‘pain lab’ workouts. My thoughts drift to today’s ride from work. Fresh snow meant commuting with Larry, my snow bike. Fitting in with my training plan’s “30-minute recovery ride,” I toured Bozeman’s fitness trails on the fatty.
Now, as I switch to bicep curls, I ponder their relevance to ‘core’ training. It might seem trivial, but it’s part of ‘the plan’, so I follow through. Today’s trail adventure, weaving through trees, creeks, sidewalks, and fielding snow bike queries from hikers, was genuinely fun.
Finishing the pain lab with tricep dips, tonight hitting 40, feels like a milestone. My training’s on track, core exercises are getting easier, and I’m starting to enjoy them after the initial training shock. As I wrapped up my ride, turning North offered spectacular views of the Bridger Range. Indeed, nothing is insignificant.
Snow is starting to fall outside, and soon the world will be covered in a new blanket of snow. A lot happened behind the scenes leading up to tonight, part of what I called “operation groundhog.” I can finally share the details.
On January 31st at 6 PM, a top decision was made to leave my snow bike in my car, pretending snow wasn’t a priority anymore. I even put the bike up for sale at MSU campus over the next three days. By February 1st at 3 AM, with the snow bike seemingly off my radar, I switched to my cross bike, even doing a couple of training rides on it.
Today at 11 AM, while I was covertly making old man winter think I was prepping for spring, another person, let’s call him Rich, joined the operation. He planned a risky skiing trip to Lost Trail, four hours away, and took Thursday off, expecting good weather for safe travels.
So, the stage was set, and the opposition – old man winter – went on high alert just moments ago. At 11:56 PM tonight, snow witches were dispatched to whip up a winter storm. Our insider, codenamed Wiarton Willie, overheard the wintry warlock grumbling about us enjoying spring-like conditions.
There you have it, the full story of how we tricked old man winter in 2012. Ha!
It was February 1, 2012, time for a rest week. “I promised to lose weight and get active again,” Winnie declared.
Christopher Robin sat quietly, worried about his friend. Winnie looked weak and tired. Humans often misunderstand bears, and even Christopher, despite being close, couldn’t figure out why Winnie wasn’t hibernating.
“Just passing by,” he said, glancing at the tree’s hole. “You should get a real door.”
“Umm, yeah.”
“Couldn’t sleep, huh?” Christopher noticed Winnie eyeing a honey jar. “Why starve yourself?”
No reply from the bear. Christopher began to leave.
“I’ll be fine, I do this yearly…”
But Christopher was already gone, muttering his concern and stumbling over a tree root.
January 30, 2012, and I’m fed up with driving. Commuting’s a huge time sink. If you drive an hour daily to work, that’s 250 hours a year, about 10.5 days lost, not to mention the cash drain. Luckily, my commute’s just a 15-minute bike ride.
But I do have a weekend commute. Living in Missoula and working in Bozeman, I spend 6 hours traveling each weekend. That’s a whole day every month just on the road. It’s worth it for who I’m visiting, but it’s getting tiresome and isn’t the best way to live.
My day usually kicks off with a snow bike ride up Rattlesnake Corridor, weather permitting. Ski grooming often makes it tough, but I try my luck. On a rainy morning, when the trails turn to slush and ice, I head back, pushing my snow bike through the corridor. The tough conditions in Missoula make outdoor fun a challenge this time of year.
Back home, I opt for hiking, despite icy trails. It’s less daunting than snow biking. Maybe getting a horse is a good idea in this icy, rainy weather. Eventually, I wind up at home, indulging in a homemade treat, “Lomond Bon Bleux”. This leads to a sugar-induced sleep, and I wake up needing to call in sick.
The thing I will remember most about the 2012 OSCR 50K is that for the first time I actually “paced’ myself the results were unexpected. I thought I would post the fastest personal time ever. Instead I was a half an hour slower then when I went out and “blew up” half way through he race. So kiddies, it pays off to go out hard and get wasted. Then coast in. It is way faster then “pacing” oneself.
The one good thing to come out of “pacing” is that I started and finished feeling fresh. So yea, I guess it is good to feel good and enjoy yourself in races … if you want to go slow. I say go all out and destroy it.
Tomorrow’s my 4th shot at the OSCR 50K. This year’s its 30th anniversary, so there’s a special hat!
Originally, OSCR meant “Ovando to Seeley Citizens Race,” linking two towns. Now, it’s just a loop, starting at Seeley Creek Trails and crossing Rice Ridge. Someone (maybe Alden?) told me it now stands for “Over Seeley’s Creeks and Ridges”. The best part? A chili feed and awards after the race.
My last go was in 2009, finishing in 4:27:52. An hour off my best, but I hadn’t skied that year. My blog, “2009 OSCR 50K Race Report”, covers it. When asked about not skiing, I’d said, “but I’ve been doing lots of CORE”.
2008 was my best, with a time of 3:34:29. I detailed it in “Hello From The OSCR”. I was somewhat prepared but still struggled.
2007 was my first time, and it was tough – like 60k in 5 1/2 hours or DNF. “The Day After The 60K” blog talks about getting lost in the Bob Marshall Wilderness. That year taught me real endurance.
With bruised ribs, this race might be like my first or last attempt. I’ve done some skiing, so aiming for a personal best. No matter what, it’ll be tough. I’d jokingly name it “Outer-limits Suffer Cauldron of Rejection” … fitting for the OSCR Loop.
I keep expecting snow, and those warm winds to turn into icy blasts. Riding my Mukluk, I feel like I should be in a blizzard, Larry’s natural habitat. But this week, winter took a break.
Instead, I got stunning views and, frustratingly, some of the best road riding I’ve had in Montana. Missoula had me craving roads, but Bozeman’s full of them. The roads are dry right now, except for high up on the passes.
This week’s training was brutal. Tough tempo intervals against strong winds. The fat tires on my snow bike added so much resistance, turning my legs into aching lumps. I sweated more than usual, and the sun almost made me feel guilty, like I was breaking a winter rule. But this is Bozeman, a place of clear blue skies and non-stop sunshine. And I can’t complain about the scenery.
To ride a snow bike for 27 miles in 2 hours, a few things are crucial.
Avoid Missoula – too much snow or slush. Instead, head to Bozeman where sunny skies and strong winds dry out the roads. Hope for a break in Bozeman’s usual high winds. Keep your bike tires at 10 pounds of pressure; any more, and you’ll go too far. Finally, be in a “tempo” training mode to push yourself for those two hours.
Leverich Canyon, usually a canvas for adrenaline-pumping descents, served up a different kind of thrill today: a slow-motion tumble that tested my balance and vocabulary. It all started innocently enough – a training ride, a casual stop… and then gravity decided to play some tricks.
Leaning the wrong way, I discovered with startling immediacy that the earth wasn’t quite where I expected it to be. Downhill, as it turned out. A frantic search for a safe landing zone revealed only a landscape of ice and rock – not exactly the softest options. So, I improvised, taking a tentative step towards what I hoped would be terra firma. Wrong again. More ouch-inducing obstacles awaited.
With no graceful dismount in sight, I surrendered to the inevitable. I tumbled down the unforgiving slope, a ragdoll at the mercy of gravity. The 140-foot descent seemed to take an eternity, each roll adding its own unwelcome momentum. Finally, my “self-arrest” technique kicked in (think spread eagle into a friendly stump) and I came to a somewhat unceremonious stop.
A symphony of choice words erupted from my lips, a fitting soundtrack to the throbbing in my chest and the stinging scratches decorating my clothes courtesy of the scree. Yes, it was a 5mph crash, the kind that defies logic and leaves you questioning the laws of physics. But hey, slow and steady wins the race, right? Or maybe not. In this case, gravity won, hands down.
The aftermath was predictable – a gingerly uphill hike to my bike, a possible broken rib (the jury’s still out), and a newfound respect for the deceptiveness of even the gentlest slopes. Leverich Canyon might have gotten the better of me this time, but I’ll be back. Next time, though, I’ll pack some extra padding, just in case.
Cozied up in bed, I was ready for sleep after a busy day. But my brain wouldn’t stop spinning with thoughts of the day’s hustle.
From Missoula to Bozeman, work, unloading a car, to an hour of core workouts and foam rolling. My day was packed with calls, texts, blogs, and training plans. I just wanted to be out on my bike, enjoying the simplicity.
Lying there, I couldn’t help but think about tomorrow’s ride. Which route to take? Even at night, the excitement of biking kept me awake.
It hit me then. Life can get too crowded. These quiet night moments remind us what matters. For me, it’s the joy of biking. Just me, my bike, and the open trail. That simplicity brings peace in life’s chaos.
“Where do I live?” This question popped into my head as I was navigating the icy and narrow boot trail along the Kim Williams Trail. It was one of those typical Missoula days – cold, but full of adventure. I stopped to capture the moment with my cell phone, a quick snap of the frosty trail ahead, and shared it with the world on Twitter.
My journey for the day was set to take 5 hours, not because of the distance or the terrain, but simply because my training plan said so. It’s funny how we let these little digital schedules dictate our lives, isn’t it?
Earlier, I rode into town with my friend Mo. We stopped to help our friend Karen with her ‘Keep Missoula Warm’ project on Higgins Bridge. “We are calling it ‘Keep Missoula Warm’ … ” Karen explained. She’s a local artist and came up with this heartwarming idea with her boyfriend, Arlan.
After lending a hand, I left the group and rode East. A predetermined turnaround time prompted me to stop for another Twitter post. After the social act (or as the kids call it, ‘twittering’), I turned my trusty Mukluk around to head back and pick up Mo, who wanted to ride the rest of the day with me.
As I climbed back aboard my Mukluk, a realization hit me. Most of my outdoor daylight hours are spent in Missoula. You can’t count hours spent working indoors because you are not living. The only time you are living is when you are outdoors, breathing the air, and taking in your surroundings as we were meant to be as animals … er … humans.
You can’t count night hours either because you are not living. You’re just blindly following a light beam around. To live is to take in life. Seeing life. Breathing life. Most of my outdoor daylight hours are spent in Missoula. So I guess you can say I live in Missoula and work in Bozeman. Maybe someday we will move to Bozeman. That would be cool, wouldn’t it?
“Have you taken the safety meeting?” The race organizer’s words echoed in my ears as we arrived late to the event. We walked away, a little disappointed. I mean, when was the last time I heard about a required safety meeting? Wait… I never had to be in a safety meeting before!
As we headed to the car, we dropped into the shooting range. A kind soul showed our friend Karen how to shoot. That qualified her to race, and she did. Seeing how easy it was, I took the safety meeting myself. Suddenly, I realized I was having fun. I mean, who wouldn’t? I had never raced in an event that included shooting rifles before. Enter biathlon, Seeley Lake style. I have to admit, post-race, this was KICK ASS.
The race started off in pursuit style, 30 seconds apart. We had to do a 3k loop. After you rip your lungs out of your chest and render your legs spaghetti, you are given a rifle and a clip of 5 bullets. Pow click klak, pow click klak, pow click klak, pow click klak, pow click klak. I got 3 out of 5 prone and heard Bill Schultz yell, “Good shootin’ Bill,” in the distance. I thought back to when I used to watch the World Cup biathlon in Lake Placid. It would be exciting to watch now that I know what is going on.
For each missed shot, you must do a penalty loop. In the end, I did 6 penalty loops and managed to clean up my skating style to finish in about 45 minutes. It’s amazing when you become part of someone else’s life, the things you get exposed to. I have to admit, I was not excited to do a biathlon, but after doing it, I’m glad I did.
Biathlon Basics: To get a good understanding of the sport, check out the International Biathlon Union’s official website. They offer a comprehensive overview of biathlon, including rules, techniques, and history. International Biathlon Union
Training Tips: For tips on training and improving both your skiing and shooting skills, “Biathlon: The Complete Training Handbook” by Katrin and Andreas Stitzl is a great resource. This book provides detailed training plans, shooting techniques, and fitness advice. Biathlon Training Handbook on Amazon
Local Clubs and Events: Joining a biathlon club can be a great way to train and participate in more events. The United States Biathlon Association website has a directory of clubs across the country. United States Biathlon Association – Club Directory
Watching Competitions: To watch professional biathlon events, like the World Cup you mentioned, the IBU TV website offers live streams and video highlights of biathlon competitions around the world. IBU TV
Community and Forums: For a more personal touch, joining online forums or communities can be a great way to connect with other biathlon enthusiasts. Reddit has an active biathlon community where people share news, experiences, and advice. Biathlon Subreddit
Mountain Biking Adventure: The Unexpected Journey to Missoula
Pack-Biking
As an avid mountain biker, sometimes the journey to the trailhead is as adventurous as the ride itself. This was the case when I decided to brave a reported storm of the century and head to Missoula, Montana. It was a quest not just for trails, but for a personal rendezvous that made my heart race faster than a downhill sprint.
I had taken a half day off, my mind filled with cautionary tales of 18 inches of snow in Missoula and a whopping 24 in Turah. My car, equipped with tires that had seen better days, seemed like an unlikely steed for such a quest. But there I was, on I90, pushing the speedometer as far as I dared, racing against nature’s clock.
The term ‘Bike-Pouting’ came to mind, usually reserved for those days when the trails are too muddy, and you’re stuck cleaning your gears instead of shredding them. But here I was, ‘Car-Pouting,’ fretting about snow-packed roads and whether I’d have to turn back, the trails of Mount Sentinel just a dream in my rearview mirror.
But as the miles ticked by, what I found was nothing short of a miracle. The roads were in great condition, and I could feel the sun warming my skin through the car window. It was a beautiful day, and I was making good time, my fears of a winter debacle melting away like the snow under the afternoon sun.
I passed Whitehall, feeling the heat in the car. It was an unexpected twist, and I found myself shedding layers, a stark contrast to the heavy jacket and gloves I had packed, expecting the worst. I made a call to my parents to pass the time, sharing my surprise at the weather and the excitement of my impending arrival in Missoula.
The journey continued, and as I approached Drummond, the roads grew wet but remained passable. My pace remained unchallenged, and I couldn’t help but smile at the irony – here I was, worried about snow, and yet the journey had been as smooth as a freshly groomed trail.
I arrived in Missoula by midday, the city greeting me with open arms. The feeling was surreal. It was a reminder that sometimes, the trails we fear to tread are the ones that lead us to unexpected joys. And as I met up with the person I had journeyed to see, I realized the truth in the old adage – you never know until you go.
In the end, this trip wasn’t just about braving the elements or even mountain biking. It was about taking chances, about venturing into the unknown, and about the warm reception that awaits at the end of a long journey.
My headlamp is minimal but only because I use it to look at my heart rate monitor. I was wishing I brought my powerful lamp. When I turned to look down slope all I could see was dark. I knew if I slipped I would fall all the way to the bottom of the canyon and the journey could result in some busted bones. I also wished I would of posted a tweet or something where I was going to ride my Mukluk tonight. If I fell and needed help no one would come. In fact there would be no one up here. It was too dangerous.
Suddenly the rear tire of my bike slid off the ledge and my toe hold in the wind crusted snow bank started to strain. I was off the bike and trying to walk it but now it seemed that it had decided to give up and jump off the cliff … and take me with it. I struggled to slowly pull it back up and by holding onto the top tube. I needed another toe hold fast and I glanced around. Nothing but ice.
What was I doing up here and why did I have to push so far past the comfort zone? With all of life’s responsibilities I was struggling to keep up a good training plan and I was not even supposed to be out here. The workout I did on my lunch break would have been enough and I would be at home right now talking to my girlfriend on the phone. I made a mental note to text her if I ever got to safety.
Just as I started to shout out loud my disappointment at the seasonal conditions I spotted a clump of dirt extruding out of the icy ledge. As I started to calculate how much jumping force was needed to reach the oasis my foothold gave way so I lurched towards it. I didn’t have enough leverage and came up short just above the perch on a glare ice section. My foot slide immediately towards the abyss but caught the dirt clump on its way. Suddenly I felt it hold and I put all my faith onto it. It seemed solid so I looked around for another foothold.
I repeated this process for 5 more minutes until I was finally across icy slope. I looked at my training device and realized I still has 3 minutes remaining in my interval. I jumped back on to get my heart rate back up and started to climb to the next ridge. I raced up the climb stepping off the bike one more time and falling flat on the ice for like the 13th time. Finally my interval was over and I stopped for a swig of Carbo Rocket and to contemplate my next move. I needed to turn around and face that dangerous slope of ice and snow again but in the opposite direction.
I got out my cell phone and text-ed, “Out riding, got carried away having fun, will be a little late for tonight’s call”.
Today I have been at MSU for 6 months. What does this mean? Well it means I now have something like 60 hours vacation time and 40 hours sick leave. I am a full fledged MSU employee. So for starters I decided to take a big lunch and go on a training mission.
Since I started training for the 2012 season I have been totally overwhelmed. If I am not working I am training. That used to be ok. But now I travel to Missoula every weekend to be with someone special. So add 40 hours of work plus 20 hours of training and then throw in 6 hours of travel. What this comes out to is burn out. I feel the burn out coming on.
So I am contemplating decisions. The very thing that allows me to free my mind is one thing on the chopping block. While training I am able to clear my mind and think about what is important. So what should go. Training and racing? Quit this fabulous job and get something in Missoula? End my trips to Missoula?
So far ending the trips to Missoula is out of the question but cycling is so important I would change if I gave that up. So this very flexible job is on the cutting board for now but don’t worry. I am hoping that time will expose the correct path. I just have to keep on slogging along.
So after work I am off for workout #2 which includes 3 tempo intervals. After that I need to go home and do a core workout in the pain lab.
As tomorrow approaches I must wax my skate skis for some mid-day intervals up Bozeman Creek. Hold on. When will I have time to wax the skis? They are in grave need because our last skate ski at Lolo Pass was painful with skis that wont slide.
Funny thing is. I am overwhelmed by all good stuff. None of this is bad. It is all good. I am pinching myself every day about how well things are going. But yes … you can have too much of a good thing.
Skate Skiing: My Unexpected Core Workout in the Snow
Last week, I found myself in a snowy wonderland with nothing but my skate skis. Far from my usual gym setup, I faced a dilemma: how to keep up with my race training? Refusing to let a little snow stop me, I turned this into an opportunity for an improvised outdoor core workout. Let me tell you, it was an adventure!
Skate skiing, for those unfamiliar, is like the love child of cross-country skiing and ice skating. You glide over snow, pushing off each ski in a V-shape. Not only is it a fantastic full-body workout, but it also particularly targets your core, legs, and arms. I experimented with different techniques:
Double Polling: Here, you use both poles for propulsion, keeping your skis parallel. This isn’t just a test of coordination; it’s a full-on assault on your abs, back, shoulders, and triceps.
Single Polling: It’s all about alternating poles, one side at a time. It’s a dance of obliques, chest, biceps, and forearms.
Skating Sans Poles: Trusting solely in the power of your legs, using arms for balance. Hello, quads, glutes, hamstrings, and calves!
I played around with intervals, mixing up speed, intensity, and duration. Picture me there, in a landscape of pristine snow, pushing myself in what felt like a “pain lab with a view”. I took breaks, not just to catch my breath, but to soak in the breathtaking scenery and snap a few memories.
By day’s end, I was a delightful mix of exhausted and exhilarated. I had conquered a full-body workout in the most unexpected of gyms. Then off I went to Missoula, rewarding myself with a foam roller session and a much-needed hot shower.
This snowy escapade taught me a crucial lesson: training isn’t about the perfect conditions or equipment. It’s about making the most of what you have, wherever you are. And sometimes, it leads to the most rewarding experiences.
Resources to Enhance Your Day
If you are interested in learning more about skate skiing, core workouts, or race training, here are some useful resources that I recommend:
January 16, 2012: Fatty vs. Slider Showdown at Lolo Pass
It was an epic match-up in the Bitterroots: me on my trusty fat bike (“Fatty”) and Mo on her sleek skate skis (“Slider”). Our battleground? The Moose Loop at Lolo Pass, graced with just a skiff of snow atop groomed trails. The weather played nice too, adding to the day’s perfection.
As we set off, Slider initially left Fatty in the snow dust. But it was early, and in the world of endurance, anything could happen. Sure enough, Fatty’s rear tire dug deep into the snow, forcing a bit of a walkabout.
Mo, graceful as ever, glided around the Moose Loop.
But the tables turned over the first pass. Fatty, channeling some hidden mojo, slid ahead of Slider.
In the next valley, the two of us found ourselves neck and neck – a perfect tie. Side by side, we traversed the Bitterroots, enjoying the camaraderie as much as the competition.
Climbing the next pass, Fatty unexpectedly pulled ahead. It seemed Fatty had been holding back, conserving energy for this moment. At the top, I pulled over, waiting for Mo to catch up.
As she reached the peak, we both realized something – our shared love for adventure trumped any rivalry. Fatty, ever the thrill-seeker, decided to push on for an extra 10-mile jaunt to Lolo Hot Springs.
At the hot springs, Slider and Fatty reunited. Over burgers, we reflected on the day’s adventure. The verdict? Both Fatty and Slider are champions of the long, wintry journey.
Boneshakerbike 