An Accidental Workout (he said)
10 Apr 2011 by KentLast weekend I cross-country skied about 12 miles and 700 vertical feet. I didn’t necessarily set out to get this much exercise, believe me. Those who know me know that I’ll go to extreme lengths to avoid even the appearance of a workout.
Unfortunately, my curiosity got the better of me a few weeks ago Saturday. We had planned a half-day with our friend Suzanne (who was visiting from Virginia) at the Tennessee Pass Nordic Center, with the idea that we’d snowshoe (Heather and Suzanne) or x-c ski (me) for a couple hours, then have a sit-down with tea before enjoying a long lunch at the Cookhouse with Ty and Roxanne (the owners), and head back to Avon late afternoon. In my three previous trips to Tennessee Pass I had only done the shorter, wooded trails between the Nordic Center and the Cookhouse. There is an entire section of cross-country trails that lie in the valley, hundreds of vertical feet below the main trails, that had piqued my curiosity.
In hindsight it was pretty silly to ask Ty and Roxanne, who are incredibly in shape (they travel all over the western US to participate in almost weekly mountain bike races or x-c ski competitions), how long it would take to make the loop from the Nordic Center, down to the valley, around the big loop in the Fish Flats, then back up the hill to the Cookhouse for our 1:30pm lunch seating, about 2.5 hours from now. “Oh, you can easily do that in under two hours,” Ty said, “you’ve got plenty of time.” Note to self, with the benefit of hindsight; when Ty says some strenuous activity will take x amount of time, double it.
The start of the trip was lovely. The trail sloped gently downhill, past a monument to the 10th-Mountain Division (who trained for WWII in these very hills), skirted the side of a hillside, then swooped down a gully and out into the Fish Flats area. You, the reader, probably noticed that the general pitch of the trail in my description above was downhill. I, however, am apparently not very observant. I checked my watch at the bottom, did a quick calculation, and figured that Ty was right on the money, that I’d be at the Cookhouse in plenty of time for lunch. If only.
I skated out into the flats past an abandoned train tunnel, looped through the field having a grand time, skiing, as before, slightly… downhill. At the very end of the loop, as far as you can get from the Nordic Center, were the ruins of an old coke furnace, which were interesting to see. Up to that point I was feeling great, not breathing too hard, and enjoying the day. I took some pictures, then turned around and started back towards lunch with only a slight sense of hunger.
About 15 minutes later I was starting to breathe a little heavier, and noticed that my hopes for arriving early for lunch were maybe in jeopardy. No worries, I thought, I’ve been alpine skiing close to 50 days already this winter, I’m in pretty good shape. I made it to the base of the gully only a little behind schedule (and not a little winded), but still hoped to make lunch on time. Up the gully, which seemed much steeper going up than on my way down. Then a right turn onto Grizzly, a trail marked “most difficult” on the trail map. Roxanne had warned me about Griz, but said that the steep section wasn’t very long, and then it leveled out (relative to the steep part, I guess) and worked its way directly to the Cookhouse.
Hungry now, I started out on Griz, heading slightly downhill (breaking my “conservation of altitude” rule), then the trail swung left and I was looking at the side of a small mountain, with the trail going straight up. Uh-oh, I’ll probably be a few minutes late for lunch. For those who have never tried it, cross-country skiing straight up a steep hillside is a W-O-R-K-O-U-T. At the top of the steepest section I kept looking ahead to the point where it “leveled out” (according to Roxanne) but that point never came. The trail just kept going up. And up some more. Then around a bend, and… up.
By this point, it was well past 1:30, I was starving, and still no sign of the clearing that would signal the approaching Cookhouse. I’m glad I didn’t have one of those watches with a heart-rate monitor built in, or I might have passed out just seeing the number. Yet my only choice was to press on, since I knew that four people were waiting on me so they could begin their lunch.
Finally, the clearing! Pick up the pace (still heading uphill of course), around a bend, and there, the temple to lunch, the Cookhouse! I stumbled in, breathing heavily. I don’t recall saying much for the first five minutes, I just focused on slowing my breathing and heartbeat. I think I had enough residual energy to actually ask for my lunch choice verbally, although there’s a chance I just pointed pathetically at the menu; I don’t recall.
The lunch was delicious (buffalo burger for me, pesto linguine for Heather), and the five of us had a grand time. I took out a trail map, added up my mileage, and discovered to my dismay that I had traveled over 18 kilometers, which hopefully will fill my exercise quota for at least the next two months!