Competitor Blog - Team Tango, January 17, 2006
Posted on 01/17/06 5:06 AM| by Will
January 17, 2006
By Anna DeBattiste
One of the challenges of the 2006 Primal Quest is its early start date. For a September race, I’ll usually plan four months of 24 – 72 hour races leading up to PQ and presto, instant training. With the race in June, however, it’s hard to get in a lot of races beforehand. I live in the mountains of Colorado, where trails are snow-covered until late June or early July. There’s plenty of snowshoeing or cross-country skiing to be done, but that doesn’t exactly get you ready for long-haul biking or paddling. Besides, heaven forbid that I should have to get out there all by myself and have actual training days. It never works. With no teammates beside me for distraction, I’ve always got some kind of excuse for cutting the day short. I have errands to run. I’m too cold. My dog is lonely at home by herself. There’s a glass of wine with my name on it somewhere, calling me.
Pondering my dilemma this fall, I got the idea to go south in the spring for a tune-up race. I called a few local teammates and pitched the idea of a four-day Costa Rican race in April called Between Two Continents, Between Two Oceans. They liked the idea, and we registered a team.
That left me with an even bigger dilemma—how was I going to get ready for a four-day race in April? Now we’re talking about trying to bike and paddle in January and February. The good news about living where I do, however, is that the Front Range (the Denver/Boulder area) is only an hour and a half away, and while it may be snowy and cold during the winter down there, it may also be 60 degrees and dry on some days. We had such a lucky day last weekend, so off I went with my Costa Rica teammates for a day of biking and hiking.
The truth can be painful, especially when it has to do with facing up to one’s physical conditioning. If you’d run into us that day, you’d have noticed three men, peddling casually in a pack with enough spare breath to chat about football games and the weather, and trailing far behind, a lone, pathetic-looking woman gasping like a hooked fish and occasionally managing to squeak, “Wait up, you guys!”
In desperation the next morning, I went to my boss at the Copper Mountain Ski & Ride School and demanded the next three days off, which were graciously given. I packed up my bike and my dog and headed out for the four-hour drive to Moab, my usual training grounds for getting out of the snow in the spring and fall. I’d never been there in the winter before, but the weather report said it would be sunny with temperatures in the high 40’s or low 50’s.
The weather report lied. On my first day in Moab, road-riding through Arches National Park, my friend Julie and I threw our bikes on the ground every half-hour and ran in circles, shaking frozen fingers and lurching unsteadily on frozen toes. We talked about the possibility of a car offering us a ride if we were seen walking our bikes down each hill. Julie tossed out occasional sarcastic comments about what a great idea it had been for me to invite her along. Misery loves company, so I answered, “You’re welcome”. On day two I was alone again, and decided that I couldn’t possibly be expected to suffer the same temperatures on my bike. I went hiking instead, and found a dozen good reasons to quit early and retire to the bar for a glass of wine.
Day three warmed up a bit, and I found a pleasant, sun-lit canyon to ride in. On top of Hurrah Pass that afternoon, I sat on a rock with an inspiring view of Dead Horse Canyon Park spread out before me, and had a stern chat with myself. No one had done this to me but myself, I pointed out. No one stood over me with a stick and said, “You have to plan an impossibly early season this year whether you like it or not”. I had chosen this. It was supposed to be fun, for god’s sake! Then I made some resolutions. There would be no more drinking in the bar with my ski clients every day. Days off were for riding and running in the Front Range, not for terrorizing the mountain with my ski instructor buddies. Winter was effectively canceled this year. I would pretend it didn’t exist. And one way or another, I’d be ready to race in June.
