Adirondack Sports December 2020
IN THIS ISSUE: 1 – Cross Country Skiing & Biathlon: Mt. Van Hoevenberg, New & Improved for All 3 – Running & Walking: Snowshoe Racing, Season Preview 5 – News Briefs & From the Publisher 7 – XC Skiing & Snowshoeing: OK Slip Falls & Three Ponds 9 – Cross Country Skiing: Get Outside: New Adventures 10-11 – Athlete Profile: Hiking with Raquelle & Bernie Landa 12-14 – CALENDAR OF EVENTS: Find Races, Events & Things to Do! 15 – Community: Virtual Lake George Swim 18 – Community: Moreau Half Ultra Race 19 Non-Medicated Life: Light at End of Covid Tunnel
IN THIS ISSUE:
1 – Cross Country Skiing & Biathlon: Mt. Van Hoevenberg, New & Improved for All
3 – Running & Walking: Snowshoe Racing, Season Preview
5 – News Briefs & From the Publisher
7 – XC Skiing & Snowshoeing: OK Slip Falls & Three Ponds
9 – Cross Country Skiing: Get Outside: New Adventures
10-11 – Athlete Profile: Hiking with Raquelle & Bernie Landa
12-14 – CALENDAR OF EVENTS: Find Races, Events & Things to Do!
15 – Community: Virtual Lake George Swim
18 – Community: Moreau Half Ultra Race
19 Non-Medicated Life: Light at End of Covid Tunnel
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18 <strong>Adirondack</strong> <strong>Sports</strong><br />
COMMUNITY<br />
DARRYL AND LAURA<br />
AT ABOUT MILE 12.<br />
MOUNTAIN DOG<br />
RUNNING<br />
Moreau Half<br />
The Inevitable Staircase of Death<br />
By Laura Clark<br />
At my relaxed age, I no longer worry about every<br />
race. I just like to spend a day outdoors with friends<br />
and complete the course as best I can. Or so I tell<br />
myself. And while I no longer stress over race times, there<br />
is still something inside me that longs to set myself apart,<br />
to tread a path chosen not by the followers of the herd, but<br />
by those more focused on personal achievement. I have<br />
gravitated towards ultrarunning then mountain running,<br />
which is often pretty much the same thing. For a number<br />
of years, I pursued PEAK Snowshoe Marathon in Pittsfield,<br />
Vt. with four rounds of 1,200 elevation gain/loss, then the<br />
Nor’easter Merck Ultra in Rupert, Vt. with repeated summits<br />
of Mt. Antone. The snowshoe hare left me in his powder, but<br />
I plodded behind and finished.<br />
Immediately after this year’s Nor’Easter edition, life as we<br />
knew it ground to a halt, thanks to Covid. I figured Mountain<br />
Dog Running’s production of the Moreau Half might be my<br />
last <strong>2020</strong> opportunity to defeat the Grim Reaper. As with the<br />
above, this would be a reach for me, where simply crossing<br />
the finish line would – and did! – justify a chilled bottle of<br />
champagne.<br />
The trails at Moreau Lake State Park require serious effort.<br />
The yellow, orange, pink, purple, green, red, yellow/red, etc.<br />
trails intertwine crookedly, making the map resemble a twoyear<br />
old’s rambling sketch. The colors doggedly skirt three lakes,<br />
cross numerous streams, and feature two two-mile climbs.<br />
This is an event not to be undertaken lightly. Although I<br />
was familiar with the trails, having run the old Moreau 15K race<br />
course, my rule for that park is to never, ever venture out alone,<br />
even though I am normally fine with solo enterprises. The terrain<br />
is so rugged that it takes monumental effort to watch for<br />
markers with roots and rock gardens awaiting every footfall.<br />
What made the difference for me was that Moreau is close<br />
by so our group made several practice runs. Jen Ferriss of<br />
Saratoga Springs, Darryl and Mona Caron of Clifton Park,<br />
and I split the route up into two exploratory weekends while<br />
Jessica and Brian Northan of Guilderland powered through<br />
in one round. Since Darryl had generously offered to be the<br />
race sweep, and my support, it was imperative that he know<br />
the course. He referenced his Avenza Maps app and Garmin<br />
watch to keep us updated.<br />
We started off in waves on the sandy beach of Moreau<br />
Lake, cheered on by a raucous crowd of barking geese, who<br />
also seemed to have their own takeoff flight protocol as they<br />
ascended in small groupings to resume their fall migration.<br />
It was a heady experience to feel part of something bigger,<br />
a finale to the summer season. After a pleasant, blessedly<br />
flat tour around the lake, we were treated to a half-mile warmup<br />
introduction to the terrain, leading to the Staircase of<br />
Death. Anchored firmly between miles one and three, the<br />
staircase treated us to 900 feet of elevation gain. It didn’t help<br />
that beforehand I Googled the phrase “staircase of death” and<br />
learned that staircase falls are responsible for 12,000 deaths<br />
per year, being the second leading cause of accidental injury<br />
in the U.S., right behind automobile accidents. Who knew?<br />
In the interest of retaining Darryl’s company, I kept this bit<br />
of information to myself.<br />
The second two-mile climb up the ridge begins at mile<br />
eight with only 600 feet of elevation gain. But mentally it<br />
seemed much worse than the first set being in the middle of<br />
the race and attempted on less than enthusiastic legs. The day<br />
before, unbeknownst to the race director, some park angels<br />
cleared parts of the trail. Naturally, the only serious accident,<br />
a broken leg, took place on a cleared patch. The eight- to<br />
10-mile stretch, however, wasn’t cleared, with rocks and root<br />
buried under inches of slippery leaves. Navigation was made<br />
more challenging because the zigzag route required you to<br />
look up for markers and down at your feet simultaneously.<br />
Somewhere just before this section, I turned left on a<br />
clearly marked right hand trail and while I was only disoriented<br />
for a few minutes, I lost Darryl up ahead. He had the only<br />
phone since we decided we would be together and I wouldn’t<br />
need a second one. Bad decision. Luckily, there were quite a<br />
few hikers on the yellow trail because of its great views (at that<br />
point I didn’t much care), so they relayed a meeting point and<br />
we eventually reconnected. Poor Darryl said, “I had one job<br />
and lost Laura.” But really, it was my fault.<br />
The final three or four miles were really difficult. I got<br />
annoyed at myself because I had been looking forward to<br />
them and not just because they were near the end. I was disappointed<br />
to discover that they weren’t nearly as simple as<br />
they should have been, given the previous tricky terrain. Some<br />
of this may have been mental, too. Advertised as a 14-mile<br />
self-supported “half” marathon with 2,700 feet of elevation<br />
gain over winding, technical singletrack, co-race director Bill<br />
Hoffman warned that runners should expect to double their<br />
road half marathon time. For me this was a moot point as<br />
my last half was on snowshoes. Be that as it may, as Darryl’s<br />
Garmin approached the 14 mile mark we were still nowhere<br />
near done. My only goal was to finish and I knew I could, but<br />
it was that extra unplanned for mile that sucked me in.<br />
By some quirk of fate my bib number was 33, my late husband<br />
Jeff’s old Army Aviation call sign (Bulldog 33), and I felt<br />
as if he were there at the end, pushing me on, telling me how<br />
proud he was of me. I couldn’t disappoint him.<br />
Finally, we reached the sandy beach once more and my<br />
two training buddies, Matt Miczek of Saratoga Springs and<br />
Jen Ferriss, were still there, hours later, to form a cheering<br />
finish line. Usually we carpool, but since April we’ve been<br />
traveling in separate, socially-distanced vehicles, so there<br />
was no compelling reason for them to remain – other than<br />
they are truly amazing friends! Darryl followed me, good citizen<br />
that he was, with a handful of pink course-marker flags.<br />
The geese were landing on the lake, again in waves, for<br />
their nighttime rendezvous. I would like to think that these<br />
were different geese, a day behind on their journey south.<br />
But this being Moreau Lake State Park, I wouldn’t discount<br />
the possibility that they had gotten lost, and were resting up<br />
for another attempt the following day.<br />
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