White Mountains 100 -- Part I (Introductory Ramblings)

This is ridiculous.  I’m not doing this.  As I sat shivering in the tent, waiting for the warmth of the stove to make the discomfort of being very cold go away, it was 100% clear to me that my apparent drive to put myself through hell in the name of sport needed to stop.  I looked over at the volunteer stoking the fire for me and bending backwards to try to help me in any way he could, even though the sauna like conditions must have been unpleasant for him, and felt terrible that this wonderful guy was having to expend time and energy warming some dumb girl who, evidently, lacked the sense to avoid trudging through the Fairbanks backcountry in the cold.  He was bundled in thick snow-machining garb, complete with the “bunny boots” that are ubiquitous in the Fairbanks area.  “This is really nice of you” I told him.  “It’s fun” he lied.  He heated some water and made a hot water bottle with a Nalgene for me to put in my shirt.  I started to warm up both physically and emotionally and after probably an hour of sitting in what is not intended to be a checkpoint, and is instead intended only as an emergency warming station after the “ice lakes” section of the White Mountains 100, I ventured back outside.  This is fun!

photo credit: Lucy Bettis (me early on in the race)

The White Mountains 100, like Susitna only much harder, is entirely on snow machine trail and can be travelled by bike, ski or foot.  I was one of a half-dozen idiots to do the race on foot.  Snow biking or skiing is typically, though not always, a better mode of transport in snow.  This year skiing was tough since there was constant fresh, dry “sugar” snow that makes for terrible glide.  The skiers were putting kick wax on their skate skis since there was no skating to be done.  My sled felt especially heavy for most of the race since it too was having trouble gliding efficiently.  I was never able to weigh it but I am guessing that my sled was only 20 pounds max.  I was only carrying food and extra clothes (plus some emergency stuff like an emergency bivy and matches). 

The week prior to the race I had decided to bag it.  It was stressing me out and my heart wasn’t really into it.  But then after talking to Jill I decided that it would probably be fun and I should do it.  Of course, I later realized that I was talking to someone who had only biked the course and was able to finish in under 20 hours.  (That said, she would love walking the course and think it was the best thing ever).  I was worried that my ambivalence would make it difficult to finish the race, and I was right.  I couldn’t, at any time during the race, explain to myself why I was there or what my objective was.  I asked myself at one point to focus on what had been good rather than chanting repeatedly in my head “this is horrible.” “I eventually warmed up after the ice lakes.  That’s all I got.”  Although I recall that I had all these negative self-chats and chastised myself for ignoring my friend Kevin’s reminder that I had previously promised myself to be kind to myself (something I consistently ignore), I cannot now feel anything but warm and fuzzy about the experience.  I also know that I kept asking myself “what exactly is so terrible?” and found that the answer was always “I am fine, this is sort of beautiful and neat.”  It was both beautiful and neat. 

TO BE CONTINUED...