Sometimes Life Gives You a Free Arc'teryx Jacket (Dogtooth Dash Skimo Race Report)

After annoying myself to the point that I couldn’t stand to hear my thoughts or the stuff that was coming out of my mouth, I made a pact with myself at the end of this weekend to 1) stop psyching myself out and working myself up over “scary” things, 2) stop explaining to everyone every second of every moment that I am a wuss and terrible at everything and 3) be more the person I like to think I am and just be smart and have fun.

This weekend was the Dogtooth Dash, a ski mountaineering race at Kicking Horse Resort in Golden, BC. A large group of friends went up and nine of us “adults” and one three year old shared a condo as if, as our friend Phil alluded to, we were all unemployed students and couldn’t afford anything other than cramming into close quarters. Obviously, this was the most fun option anyhow.

Last week, prior to the race, I began studying the course map, below. I realized upon comparing the vague Google earth map to the resort trail map that one of the downhill runs was a double black diamond (the second descent). I’ve mentioned previously how tightly wound I am about skiing… I emailed a race person and confirmed that it was double black but “easy” double black. It should really be a black diamond she said. I spent several hours combing the internet for pictures and videos of the resort and assured myself that it was going to be totally manageable. At the pre-race meeting slide-show though, the photo of the run had me back to a panic that gripped my stomach and made me want to cry. I informed anyone who would listen (which at that point was no one really) that I didn’t want to play anymore.


As we ascended the gondola into a thick fog that obscured everything while revealing my doom, I tried breathing techniques to calm my nerves. I didn’t want to start crying. It was embarrassing. I knew I had worked myself irrevocably into a stupid hysteria and that I needed to somehow relax if I was going to do the race. It worked a little though I noticed at the top (where the race began) that my heart rate was about 20 beats higher than it normally is when I’m just sitting. Nice.

Just before the start we got in line to do a beacon check. Although the race was in controlled in-bounds terrain, we were required to carry full avy gear. I always appreciate an opportunity to involve more gear into my activities. The start of the race was a Le Mans start where we had to run around the restaurant at the peak of the mountain carrying our skis and then put our skis on. This was funny to me. Of course, I stayed at the back knowing that I do better when no one is on my heels. And, of course, I couldn’t get my skis on while everyone was watching and cheering. Evidently Amber was having the same problem, but we were so focused on our own humiliation that we didn’t see the other still futzing with bindings. Finally I got them on and the crowd roared.

This race next goes down a mellow cat track into the “Sugar Bowl,” which is a flat open bowl. Our friend Shane somehow promptly lost a ski, and I saw it pummeling at high speed into the abyss. I looked at him and realized that things could be much worse. Poor guy. His ski has yet to be recovered. Those ‘aint cheap. Anyhow, I made my way down the cat track and headed the wrong direction into the bowl. Once a random skier confirmed that racers were going a different way, I side stepped up to the right place. An awesome start… the transition wasn’t far and stopped to put on skins and head up the first ascent, which was on a really well laid uptrack with well-engineered turns. I was amazed that I wasn’t even last, and amazed that Amber was not far ahead (I was worried she was waiting for me because she knew I was hysterical, which I didn’t want. I didn’t realize she had binding issues too). Before I knew it I was up the first ascent and peering over the double black run that had me so hysterical. It was extremely not bad at all. The drop in was a narrow traverse and then it dumped into a not very steep but hard packed bumpy bowl. This is double black? My friends who tried, to no avail, to tell me this were right. Hmm. Guess I can trust my friends after all. Nonetheless, I side slipped clumsily down until I reached the flat bowl and straight lined to the next transition.


The next short uphill was back up to the end of the bowl, which was like a high alpine white snowy desert. The sun occasionally peaked out and I was dumping buckets of sweat in the mild temps. Before I knew it, it was time for a long descent halfway down the mountain (which has quite a lot of vert). Skins back on, back up. Again, it was well laid uptrack though it was a little slick in spots. I negotiated it just fine through the trees. Eventually we dumped out on an open ski run that was a little steep and started to feel overwhelmed by fatigue. I looked at my watch and realized I’d been out for an hour and a half, working hard and sweating with a high heart rate and hadn’t drank a sip of water or, obviously, eaten anything. Oops. I stopped and took a Hammer Gel and some water, and waited for that magical energy boost. Nothing. I tried eating a Hammer Bar but almost choked since I was dehydrated and my mouth was really dry and not producing saliva. I sucked down more water. Crap. I was so focused on being scared that I got behind on my hydration and nutrition and wasn’t catching up. At all. Ugh…

I never felt better. The fatigue just continued to set in. It never occurred to me that I needed to pay attention to the regular things one needs to pay attention to during a race. It also never occurred to me that fitness might be a limitation. I felt slow and unathletic. I trudged slowly until reaching switchbacks that headed up the side of the bowl back to the start/finish where we would do the last loop. I was so tired I was getting sloppy and struggling with the turns. There were small platforms where one might be able to avoid kick turns if one was not about to fall over from exhaustion. Kick turns were easier somehow, yet I was executing them very poorly. “Don’t fall over” I kept saying to myself. I didn’t want to slide to the bottom, and it was packed slick snow so that was entirely possible.

Finally I reached the end of the uptrack and saw that this was where I needed to put my skis on my backpack and boot pack up the steep cliff area to the ridge. As I had been assured by my friend Dustin, the steps were well set and it was like climbing stairs. Really scary exposed stairs up the side of a cliff. Looking up it didn’t look especially bad or long, but my adrenaline kicked into high gear. “Stay calm stay calm” was my mantra. I had planned to remind myself to “send it,” which were Phil’s words of wisdom, but “stay calm” seemed more to the point. It would be fine if I didn’t get too sloppy and kept my focus. Snow suddenly came barreling down at high speed and I was smacked in the neck with a snowball. It looks like a hickie now. It was sort of funny in a way. Eventually I made it really close to the top and negotiated a couple sketchy steps before getting on the ridge. Lazily I walked with my skis on my pack to the transition at the Start/Finish rather than skinning like you were supposed to.

I knew that there was the option to skip the last loop and be in the “Recreational” division (there was an Elite and Enduro, I was to do the Enduro) and didn’t want to take the “easy” option. I knew I would get a hard time from my friends and naturally don’t like to quit. I first asked if I had time to do the last loop and was told of course go for it. I headed out and as I approached the steep, choppy descent felt so tired I wanted to lay down and cry or sleep. I wondered how I had the strength to stay upright on my skis. Staring down, I asked a ski patroller if the loop was hard. He assured me that it was really quite hard and encouraged me to keep it fun and call it a day if I was really worked. The decision became obvious and turned back and let the timekeepers know I was going to join the “Rec” division after all. But hey, I won the “Rec” division in under 2:30.   RESULTS

Amber finished soon thereafter as first woman’s finisher in the Enduro. She confirmed that I would have hated that last loop and no one gave me a hard time about skipping the last loop. I chugged warm Heed and enjoyed seeing friends finish the Elite division. I felt good because while I didn’t do the whole Enduro course, it wasn’t fear that held me back, other than being the genesis of my poor hydration and fueling earlier on.

There was a nice awards ceremony and Amber won a Smart Wool midlayer jacket and an Arc’teryx toque. They also drew names from a hat and gave out other swag. Mine was the last name picked and I won an Arc’teryx insulated jacket. Yeah. All mine.

The next day Amber and I tried to ski, since our race entries included two days of lift tickets, but I wasn’t feelin’ it and was skiing poorly. I hung in the base lodge with Laura who is quite preggo and lamented my suckitude. It was then that I made that pact and realized how unfun I am when I act like a baby. It was a great race, a great weekend and I was lucky to have been able to jaunt off for another ski race in another ski resort town. Charmed life. And sometimes, just sometimes, like in Canada, there’s a free expensive jacket waiting for you if you hang in there…



Next up: Susitna 100. I hope I can recover in time!!!