Full-throttle racing season is on. Train easy, rest well, race hard, travel, repeat. I love this rhythm.
US nationals finished a few days before the school semester started up. After two days of school, I jetted down to beautiful Bozeman, Montana with the UAA team for some college racing at the MSU invitational. My classic race went pretty well, putting me in 26th place, but I bombed on the skate. It always takes some getting used to skiing at altitude.
Then we all drove down to Midway, Utah, stopping at West Yellowstone along the way for a lovely training ski. It's been stormy here in the rockies with lots of new snow. We've been training and prepping this week for our races tomorrow and Saturday. With the warm weather and the new snow, it could be tricky conditions for the classic race tomorrow. We'll see.
Tricky conditions usually favor those who don't give up, and always know that it's the skier that counts, not the skis (or as my dad would say, what's on top of the skis is more important than what's on the bottom). All of the physical training we do as nordic skiers makes us fit, but perhaps more importantly it makes us mentally tough. Knowing you can do something is half the battle of actually getting it done. I try to remember that during hard training sessions. I'm not just teaching my body to deal with the pain of extreme effort. I'm learning how hard I can push myself. I'm learning that the limits of my mind are often more strict than those of my body. I'll try to remember that tomorrow as I power my way up Herman's hill through the thick snow.
Wish me luck!
photos coming soon...
1/21/10
12/21/09
Adventures in the Dark
It's solstice today, and since it's cloudy in Fairbanks, that means it won't get very bright for very long today. That reminded me of some of the recent adventures I've been having in the dark. Since I'm home for the holidays, and it's cold out, I suppose I have some time to type up a few updates.
Whilst driving north for turkey day, Paul, Clay and I stopped in at Dragonfly Creek for a bit of ice climbing. It's perhaps the most convenient climbing anywhere. A two minute walk from the car leads to the top of the ice pillar that drops down towards the Nenana River. Tie in to the anchor-tree, rap down and start playing. We each did a few laps, and throughouly enjoyed ourselves. We started climbing at about six o'clock, so it was headlamps climbing. Fun, but more intense. We were thankful for the toprope.
On our way South back to Anchorage, we stayed in at the cabin for a couple nights. What a great place to unwind. I almost forgot how much schoolwork I was neglecting. We spent our day there investigating the bowels of the Castner glacier, and were not disappointed with our findings. We came prepared with both ice climbing gear and river gear to be ready for any sub-glacier terrain features. Neat cave. Waded in thigh-deep ice water. Belly-crawled on mud and rocks. Hiked in huge open tunnels. Wahoo.
After school was finished, I picked up a few hours at AMH, Anchorage's premier ski-racing and mountian-climbing headquarters. I've worked there on and off for a few years, and it always feels like coming home when I start there again. One of the perks of working there is that your co-workers are always planning excellent hair-brained adventures. And so I found myself preparing for a late-night backcountry ski trip with Paul and two of the rowdy AMH crew, Jason and Galen. It had been snowing all day, and we got first tracks after getting off of work that night. We dropped into the bowl at about 9:30pm, headlamps struggling to cut through the warp of falling snow. What fun!
And now it is full time ski-racing season. So far it looks like my training is paying off, but I still have a ways to go before I'm skiing as fast as I can this season. Last weekend was the first two Besh Cup series races. about 500 skiers from around the state show up to race. It's a big event for the juniors trying to qualify for the Junior Nationals team, but it's a great event for everyone to get some race practice in. Sunday was a 15k classic race. I placed ok, but I didn't feel very strong. Saturday though, I placed 12th in the skate sprint. I qualified 13th in the morning, then placed 3rd in my quarterfinal heat behind powerhouses Reese Hanneman and David Norris. It turned out that we had the fastest heat, so I still got to advance as the "Lucky Loser" despite my #13 race bib. I got my butt kicked in the subsequent heats, but I had secured myself as 12th for the day. The race started with a prelim at 11 o'clock. My last heat started at 4:15. That made for a long day, and it was dark in the stadium well before we were finished.
Whilst driving north for turkey day, Paul, Clay and I stopped in at Dragonfly Creek for a bit of ice climbing. It's perhaps the most convenient climbing anywhere. A two minute walk from the car leads to the top of the ice pillar that drops down towards the Nenana River. Tie in to the anchor-tree, rap down and start playing. We each did a few laps, and throughouly enjoyed ourselves. We started climbing at about six o'clock, so it was headlamps climbing. Fun, but more intense. We were thankful for the toprope.
On our way South back to Anchorage, we stayed in at the cabin for a couple nights. What a great place to unwind. I almost forgot how much schoolwork I was neglecting. We spent our day there investigating the bowels of the Castner glacier, and were not disappointed with our findings. We came prepared with both ice climbing gear and river gear to be ready for any sub-glacier terrain features. Neat cave. Waded in thigh-deep ice water. Belly-crawled on mud and rocks. Hiked in huge open tunnels. Wahoo.
After school was finished, I picked up a few hours at AMH, Anchorage's premier ski-racing and mountian-climbing headquarters. I've worked there on and off for a few years, and it always feels like coming home when I start there again. One of the perks of working there is that your co-workers are always planning excellent hair-brained adventures. And so I found myself preparing for a late-night backcountry ski trip with Paul and two of the rowdy AMH crew, Jason and Galen. It had been snowing all day, and we got first tracks after getting off of work that night. We dropped into the bowl at about 9:30pm, headlamps struggling to cut through the warp of falling snow. What fun!
And now it is full time ski-racing season. So far it looks like my training is paying off, but I still have a ways to go before I'm skiing as fast as I can this season. Last weekend was the first two Besh Cup series races. about 500 skiers from around the state show up to race. It's a big event for the juniors trying to qualify for the Junior Nationals team, but it's a great event for everyone to get some race practice in. Sunday was a 15k classic race. I placed ok, but I didn't feel very strong. Saturday though, I placed 12th in the skate sprint. I qualified 13th in the morning, then placed 3rd in my quarterfinal heat behind powerhouses Reese Hanneman and David Norris. It turned out that we had the fastest heat, so I still got to advance as the "Lucky Loser" despite my #13 race bib. I got my butt kicked in the subsequent heats, but I had secured myself as 12th for the day. The race started with a prelim at 11 o'clock. My last heat started at 4:15. That made for a long day, and it was dark in the stadium well before we were finished.
Dragonfly in the Dark
Gearing up: kayaking drysuit, mountain boots, crampons.
Ice Tunnel
Explorer Paul
Ice-bank hopping.
Scharlping some Gnar the day before the dark skiing adventure. Pictures turn out better in daylight.
This is Ski Racing.
(Photos by Clay Roberts, Steffi Hiemer, John Schauer and UAA Seawolves Skiing)
11/23/09
Ice Climbing Science
It's almost that time again... As the mercury drops, ice climbers dream of water trickling over rock walls, gradually growing from smears to bulges to big fat walls of ice. Paul forwarded me this excellent scientific report testing the strengths of various types of ice protection. It will always be a judgment call whether an anchor is solid, but empirical evidence is surely a painless way to gather knowledge. So if you're planning on swinging tools this winter, I'd give it a thorough perusal.
On that note, Paul, Clay and I will be braving the parks highway on Wednesday so that we can join our family in sacrificing a turkey. Friday will see Father and Sons racing together as the "Schauer Power" relay team at the annual Turkey Day Relays. Upon finishing, we will make our exodus to Ohana Cobana, our cabin near the Deltas. Early season ice climbing or late-season ice caving shall ensue. Expect updates next week.
On that note, Paul, Clay and I will be braving the parks highway on Wednesday so that we can join our family in sacrificing a turkey. Friday will see Father and Sons racing together as the "Schauer Power" relay team at the annual Turkey Day Relays. Upon finishing, we will make our exodus to Ohana Cobana, our cabin near the Deltas. Early season ice climbing or late-season ice caving shall ensue. Expect updates next week.
11/18/09
Gotta love it...
I just handed in my genetics lab report, a real-world style primary source document detailing the semester in which we isolated, cloned, anaylzed and sequenced DNA from spinach. This morning I hammered all four heats of a classic sprint time trial with the ski team, and actually stacked myself in with the big guys. Yesterday I turned in my term paper for physiology, a well-researched and thoroughly fascinating treatise about thermoregulation and hypothermia. Tomorrow morning I'll be completing an essay exam for that same class, covering material about the nuts and bolts of respiration, circulation, ion balance, nitrogen management digestion and nutrition. Friday I'll be heading to Hatchers Pass with the team for a weekend training camp up on the good snow, though I do have to swing back into town Friday afternoon for a lab session. Between two-a-day workouts this weekend at Hatchers, I'll be studying for my organic chemistry exam on Monday. Then it'll be thanksgiving, thank goodness.
I'm finding out that the only possible way for me to cope with this schedule is to fully embrace it as the insanity that it sometimes is. I watched a TED talk by a brit named Ben about skiing solo to the geographic North Pole. Dude has some willpower. Because the sea-ice that covers the Arctic Ocean is always drifting, he often floated backwards while he slept, only to ski for many hours the next day to creep a couple miles north of his previous position. On his worst day he skied due north, pulling two gigantic sleds with all of his necessary gear, into a headwind for 7 or so hours, only to end up two and a half miles further south of where he started due to the drifting ice. And he was laughing about it. What a guy...
I'm pretty sure that's probably what it takes to surmount an insurmountable obstacle. Realize just how outrageously impossible it really is, laugh about it, then do it...with a smile.
...gotta love it :-D
I'm finding out that the only possible way for me to cope with this schedule is to fully embrace it as the insanity that it sometimes is. I watched a TED talk by a brit named Ben about skiing solo to the geographic North Pole. Dude has some willpower. Because the sea-ice that covers the Arctic Ocean is always drifting, he often floated backwards while he slept, only to ski for many hours the next day to creep a couple miles north of his previous position. On his worst day he skied due north, pulling two gigantic sleds with all of his necessary gear, into a headwind for 7 or so hours, only to end up two and a half miles further south of where he started due to the drifting ice. And he was laughing about it. What a guy...
I'm pretty sure that's probably what it takes to surmount an insurmountable obstacle. Realize just how outrageously impossible it really is, laugh about it, then do it...with a smile.
...gotta love it :-D
10/23/09
Feel the Burn
As I wake, my body already knows what is coming. It is hardening itself, preparing. I feel a little bit sick, but this is normal, and it means I'll feel good when I get moving. I choke down some breakfast, though I don't have much appetite. Out the door, ready for the day.
As I start my warm-up, my body feels tense and heavy, but I soon relax into a springy jog, poles in hand, on my way out to the hill. I begin to focus on what I need to do. Three minutes as hard as I can, five times up the hill. Just a mere fifteen minutes of effort sounds small, easy, do-able, but I know it will hurt.
I do a warmup interval. Not all-out, but fast. I feel strong. I can spin my legs quickly. I breathe fast and deep, keeping up with my body's output. I bring myself near the brink of anaerobic pain, and ease off before I get there, revving the engine before the drag.
The tinny beep of the watch springs me to life. My heart rate and breathing quickly accelerate to match pace with my legs as I sprint through the trees over dead leaves and mud. As soon as I settle into a comfortable pace, I up the ante and try to spin faster. I swing my hands quicker to make my legs pump harder. I'm just on the flats now. I have to go fast to make it hard.
This is where the pain begins. Before I reach the hill, I'm already breathing raggedly, but I can't get enough air. I'm at the bottom of the pool struggling for a breath, but I force my legs to move faster. The familiar burn of lactate begins to pollute my thighs. This is gonna be good...
I turn the corner to face the incline. I accelerate; a launching linebacker at the hike. I stab my poles down hard and begin to bound. Huge strides propelled with both arms and legs. I imagine my limbs are the pistons of an oversized engine, and I cram on the gas pedal.
This is where the pain deepens. My face numbs, my bowels cramp, my ears ring, my heart pounds through my body. My legs begin to fill with red-hot lead. My breathing is so fast and hard that it would worry me if I'd never done this before. This is where an athlete is born, in this moment. To ignore the pain and push harder than I know I can is the lesson I'm learning here.
I lift my eyes to the horizon of the gradually steepening slope. I force my body to push harder, and to quicken the tempo. A guttural grunt involuntarily escapes from my chest. A flood of adrenaline. A bucket of gasoline is thrown over the fire in my legs, and I accelerate with the eruption of flames.
As if forcing my way through a stone wall, with determination, focus and aggression, I break through the pain in my body. On this higher plateau, I reach a new level of power. Bestowed with the fear and aggression earned by eons of nature's ancestors fighting for survival, I fly wildly up to the crest of the hill sprinting powerfully over the top.
I come to a screeching halt. I stop my watch. I collapse, doubled over on my poles, gasping desperately for breath. I descend back down through the layers of pain as my body recovers. Seconds later, as soon as I can move, I begin to jog gingerly down the shortcut to the start of the loop. My legs momentarily wobble as if I haven't walked in a very long time. I breathe deeply and flush fresh blood through my body on my way back to the start.
One down, four to go.
As I start my warm-up, my body feels tense and heavy, but I soon relax into a springy jog, poles in hand, on my way out to the hill. I begin to focus on what I need to do. Three minutes as hard as I can, five times up the hill. Just a mere fifteen minutes of effort sounds small, easy, do-able, but I know it will hurt.
I do a warmup interval. Not all-out, but fast. I feel strong. I can spin my legs quickly. I breathe fast and deep, keeping up with my body's output. I bring myself near the brink of anaerobic pain, and ease off before I get there, revving the engine before the drag.
The tinny beep of the watch springs me to life. My heart rate and breathing quickly accelerate to match pace with my legs as I sprint through the trees over dead leaves and mud. As soon as I settle into a comfortable pace, I up the ante and try to spin faster. I swing my hands quicker to make my legs pump harder. I'm just on the flats now. I have to go fast to make it hard.
This is where the pain begins. Before I reach the hill, I'm already breathing raggedly, but I can't get enough air. I'm at the bottom of the pool struggling for a breath, but I force my legs to move faster. The familiar burn of lactate begins to pollute my thighs. This is gonna be good...
I turn the corner to face the incline. I accelerate; a launching linebacker at the hike. I stab my poles down hard and begin to bound. Huge strides propelled with both arms and legs. I imagine my limbs are the pistons of an oversized engine, and I cram on the gas pedal.
This is where the pain deepens. My face numbs, my bowels cramp, my ears ring, my heart pounds through my body. My legs begin to fill with red-hot lead. My breathing is so fast and hard that it would worry me if I'd never done this before. This is where an athlete is born, in this moment. To ignore the pain and push harder than I know I can is the lesson I'm learning here.
I lift my eyes to the horizon of the gradually steepening slope. I force my body to push harder, and to quicken the tempo. A guttural grunt involuntarily escapes from my chest. A flood of adrenaline. A bucket of gasoline is thrown over the fire in my legs, and I accelerate with the eruption of flames.
As if forcing my way through a stone wall, with determination, focus and aggression, I break through the pain in my body. On this higher plateau, I reach a new level of power. Bestowed with the fear and aggression earned by eons of nature's ancestors fighting for survival, I fly wildly up to the crest of the hill sprinting powerfully over the top.
I come to a screeching halt. I stop my watch. I collapse, doubled over on my poles, gasping desperately for breath. I descend back down through the layers of pain as my body recovers. Seconds later, as soon as I can move, I begin to jog gingerly down the shortcut to the start of the loop. My legs momentarily wobble as if I haven't walked in a very long time. I breathe deeply and flush fresh blood through my body on my way back to the start.
One down, four to go.
10/12/09
Fall Training
With 15 mostly upper division biology credits including 3 labs, a new part-time on-campus job, and being team captain during my last season as a college skier, This fall has been decidedly busy.
My favorite part of the day? Getting to go train with the best college team in the nation. Quite literally, the UAA nordic ski team (both men and women) was the fastest in the country last year at NCAA championships. Officially UAA placed 4th. The NCAA scores Nordic and Alpine skiing together, and though our Alpine team was strong last year, together we placed 4th overall. We're all excited to build on that from last year, and bring it all together for some excellent racing this winter.
Not only is it a fast team, it's just awesome to train with these guys. We put in the effort together every day, and that environment is really exciting to be around.
Until this week, it was really starting to feel like winter here in Anchorage. We had some snow in the mountains near town, just a couple thousand feet above sea-level. Today it's sunny and 50 degrees again. This is the time of year that skiers get antsy for snow.
It makes for some interesting training in the transition period. Running in the muddy snow up in the mountains, rollerskiing on wet leaves and frost. Gritting our teeth through wet sleet on the long workouts. Suffice to say it'll be nice when everything is packed under a few feet of snow, and we just have to deal with the wind and cold at Kincaid.
Here's a few pictures of the team putting in the effort. You can check out the ski team at the university athletics webpage, or read about our adventures on the ski team blog.
My favorite part of the day? Getting to go train with the best college team in the nation. Quite literally, the UAA nordic ski team (both men and women) was the fastest in the country last year at NCAA championships. Officially UAA placed 4th. The NCAA scores Nordic and Alpine skiing together, and though our Alpine team was strong last year, together we placed 4th overall. We're all excited to build on that from last year, and bring it all together for some excellent racing this winter.
Not only is it a fast team, it's just awesome to train with these guys. We put in the effort together every day, and that environment is really exciting to be around.
Until this week, it was really starting to feel like winter here in Anchorage. We had some snow in the mountains near town, just a couple thousand feet above sea-level. Today it's sunny and 50 degrees again. This is the time of year that skiers get antsy for snow.
It makes for some interesting training in the transition period. Running in the muddy snow up in the mountains, rollerskiing on wet leaves and frost. Gritting our teeth through wet sleet on the long workouts. Suffice to say it'll be nice when everything is packed under a few feet of snow, and we just have to deal with the wind and cold at Kincaid.
Here's a few pictures of the team putting in the effort. You can check out the ski team at the university athletics webpage, or read about our adventures on the ski team blog.
Here I am racing in the Kincaid Stampede rollerski race, gettin' after it.
Max Treinen putting the hours in on Potter's hill.
The start of the Kincaid Stampede race with Michael Shallinger and I in green up against the big bad APU boys led by Mark Iverson.
At the top of Hatcher's pass, a standard feeding session after a long, hard workout.
(Photos by Mandy Kaempf)
10/6/09
Wildwater Win!
Every year at Denali park, Alaskan paddlers congregate for a weekend of joviality and competition on the rapids of the Nenana river at the Wildwater Festival. There's always a down-river race: a 3-4 mile sprint downstream through class 3 rapids. After the race and re-running shuttle, everyone trades their longest, skinniest racing boat with their shortest, fattest play boat for the rodeo. We find a feature or two that are near a bridge, and have a show-off contest for best tricks. By then we're all whipped and ready for a barbecue where twice-told tales from the good old days get better each year, and new accounts of heroism and drama join the collective history of Alaskan paddling epics.
This year though, Paul decided to let me have the advantage in the main event down-river race. Our mom used to kayak way back when a standard-sized boat was 12-13 feet long (i.e. fast). Now she rows the raft, or her new inflatable kayak because she cleverly prefers the relaxation of a more stable craft. Luckily though, we never sold her ancient fiberglass kayak. It comes out to play just once a year now, and it's been the winning boat for at least 4 years running.
I used to have Paul take it because he is the more skilled, fitter paddler, and therefore more likely to win. I'd take something a little more durable, but maybe not quite as streamlined, and place in the top five. This year though, since Paul has ratcheted back on the ski racing, he let me give it a try. I was a bit nervous about it being so fragile and hard to control, but super excited to go fast!
The race was excellent. I fit in the kayak just fine, it controlled pretty well, and it totally zipped through the waves. My competition though, was definitely not going to let me have it so easily. Jeff Shelton, a Healy local, works as a raft guide on this very stretch of water, rowing piles of tourists down it 3 times a day. Suffice to say he's fit and knows where the current is. He had his own fast boat, and the two of us dueled the whole way down arms and lungs burning. Near the end it looked like he'd gotten me. He had picked a better line in the last rapid, and I was struggling to catch him on the flats into the finish. I was sure he had me, but then with just a hundred meters to the end, his boat bogged down in a slower patch of water, and I just passed him at the finish line! Paul and my Dad came in soon after, 4th and 6th I believe.
Now that Paul and I have each had our victories in Mom's yellow boat, we'll have a rock-paper-scissors (or my new favorite: ninja-yeti-cowboy) to decide who gets it each year.
Here's a video of the Rodeo finals at Rockslide. I'm in the yellow boat with the blue helmet. Paul is orange boat with orange helmet. Thanks to my dad for putting this together. If it doesn't show up below, here's the Youtube link
Here's the Newsminer Article
Here's a video of the Rodeo finals at Rockslide. I'm in the yellow boat with the blue helmet. Paul is orange boat with orange helmet. Thanks to my dad for putting this together. If it doesn't show up below, here's the Youtube link
Here's the Newsminer Article
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