Boulder Mtn Tour - I made it!
Last week I competed in my first ever nordic ski race. The Boulder Mtn Tour has long captured my heart- as the premier ski race in the Wood River Valley, I was instantly aware of the high caliber competition almost as soon as I moved to Sun Valley in 2001. I promised myself I would one day give it a try.
I cashed in that bucket list chip this year, on a whim, when over two years had passed since I last raced. I figured racing a new sport in a familiar place would be the best way to reengage my competitive soul. What I didn’t realize is how difficult skate skiing is really! It seems the more you know, the more you realize how little you know.
Twenty years ago I strapped on skate skis and poles and headed out on the Galena trail system on a particularly cold day when the groomed corduroy was impenetrable, frozen into hard grooved lines in the snow. I started the day excited and giddy to discover a new endurance sport that meshed well with the snowy winter environs I loved, but the reality check was coming. On the very first downhill I caught an edge on the deep frozen grooves and crashed hard. In skate skiing the bindings do not release and the poles are strapped tight to your hands. Rather than a “yard sale”, as you’d expect with such a fall in alpine skiing, this was a tumble of straight sticks and my floppy body. Shockingly, nothing broke (mechanical or human), but I was a tangle so entwined within myself that it took a third party to help my straighten out and get back to my feet. Undeterred, I continued skate skiing for the next few decades with my own self taught form, which was basically the ugliest, ill-timed, inefficient V1 you can imagine.
Finally in 2019, I signed up for a weekly ski clinic through Bogus Basin Nordic Team. I began to learn the strokes and became aware of my many inefficiencies. But it was only this year, in late 2021, that I actually learned how to V2. With the understanding of the timing came the awareness of so many more issues with my form. From the bottom up, I was still a far cry from the efficient, beautiful skiers I imagined would fill the ranks of the Boulder Mtn Tour.
As the race approached, I became more and more anxious about the finer details of form and timing. For several weeks, I let my training slide in hopes of improving my form; but now here I was not in great shape and also still learning. Instructions and tips filled my head making skiing less fun and the race downright dreadful. Much as Simone Biles forgot how to do gymnastics when she got the twisties at the Olympics last year, I seemed to forget how to ski. Then with Omicron raging as strong as my insecurities, I nearly chose to compete in the race virtually.
I am so glad I chose in-person racing that day! The day was cold, but at 16* it was warmer than it had been recently, with blue skies overhead. The wind was strong, but seemingly not a problem in the first half of the race. The cross of my favorite communities- mtn town peers and endurance athletes- brought out the best smiles all around. From the pre-race at Galena to the finish line soup at SNRA, I thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity to be in this community again.
I started the race conservatively and quickly fell in behind a woman who threaded through the crowds with ease. Having never raced a mass start in a sport that requires more than quick feet and a few elbows, the first 3K around Senate Meadows was intimidating. I appreciated the experienced racer ahead of me. As we crossed Hwy 75, I lost her on the hill and began to race my own race.
Skiers would bunch up on the race course, often around the hills. As a decent hill climber (all that “V1” from the early 2000s) I appreciated that the skiers of a similar pace would often fall into a line on one side and allow faster climbers to pass on the other. Between the crowds would be pockets of opportunity to ski big, take the long glides and attempt to catch the next bunch of skiers. I was learning to read the snow, understand the snow hazards of starting in the back, and navigate both the crowds and the terrain to make smart moves in this 34K race. Approaching Prairie Creek and the end of the hilly first 10K section, I felt great! My legs were fresh and my skis felt fast.
Several factors outside of the race contributed to my success as well, the most important being an amazing wax job from Idaho Mtn Touring. The guys there took my skis in at the last minute, after I had finally decided to ski in person and realized that the proper wax was sold out around town. I love IMT and the team of employees- it is a community of it’s own- but this special effort to help me was above and beyond and I cannot thank them enough. Not only did they fit me in, the wax was absolutely perfect! From start to finish I was able to glide well, pass others on the downhill, and the skis even transitioned well into Frostbite Flats and the colder wind-blown snow.
At Frostbite Flats, the wind did pick up and turn the corner so that we were now skiing straight into it. With about a 12K to go, I still felt good. Though it would have been nice to have a pace line to work with, I skied hard, knowing the many mini hills and contour of the next few miles. This was the area I most frequented in my sparse training on the course, so I was ready. From here to the finish I encountered fewer and fewer people. I tried to keep up my race mentality in spite of the lonely trail conditions, and did my best to keep pushing with each kilometer. I don’t recall much from this last bit, but I do know how silly the finish must have looked. With a bit too much left in the tank and not knowing the best way to sprint to the finish, I found myself frantically trying all of the strokes to just get to the finish line a tiny bit faster: V1! V2! Double pole! I must have looked like I was falling down the stairs- though sideways- as I flailed and frantically pushed myself to the line. I’m fairly certain it would have been faster to take 3 strong glides.
In the end, I crossed the finish line at 2:06, forgetting to take the 20mins off for the time elapsed from the start of the race to the start of my wave. My actual race time of 1:46, I would later learn, put me in good company with strong skiers from both the Wood River Valley and Bogus Basin locals. Women I respect, peers whose form I admire, athletes I’ve encountered in other races. I am proud of myself for both toeing the line and then finishing strong, showing me that form matters and it doesn’t. I made it to the finish line with just one fall. I worked on my form in the race when I could, but also let my race intuition take over at times when I just wanted to go. I doubt it was pretty (oh god, to see any film would be horrifying!), but it wasn’t as ugly as it would have been a few short years ago. I am both inspired to keep learning new skills, keep working on my form, become that beautiful effortless skier I see in my minds eye; and to consider how improving that form will help me race better, faster, stronger next year. I was inspired to see this through by the Picky Bar Ambadassador Team Challenge, so thank you to those teammates and leaders, far and wide! Nordic skiing is a fun challenge for the mind and body, and I just may want to continue this competitive aspect to see where it can go.
