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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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