Sunday, December 23, 2012

Running in the blizzard


(Originally published February 7 2011)

One week after the Great Blizzard that dumped over a foot of snow and brought reported wind gusts of 50+ mph I thought it would be appropriate to look back on what some Iowa runners were doing during the blizzard.  Not everyone was inside under a blanket.  The following is a story written by one of Iowa City’s fastest runners about the workout he and a friend ran during the heart of the blizzard last week.  If you're ever in trouble with the law and want a dedicated runner to help you out check out his webpage here.
When I saw the National Weather Service reports of the predicted snowstorm for last Tuesday, I sent my buddy (who I’ll call “Goat”) an email, "I'm glad I have a friend that's TOUGH enough to run in this with me."
Of course, Tuesday is our night that we meet for KILLERS, (the awesome name we have given to our killer-hard workouts).
Sure, we could have met in the city and ran safely around the city blocks.  But when do you get an opportunity to experience weather like this?  The NWS predicted 12-16 inches, blinding snow that may make it "IMPOSSIBLE TO DRIVE." And as you know, any NWS reports are in all caps, and they really used the word "IMPOSSIBLE." I saw it as a challenge.
The Goat and I met at 5:00 p.m. in a parking lot on Lake MacBride.  We still had some sunlight, and the snow and wind were just starting to roll.  We decided a loop around the entire lake was the move to make.  We carried flashlights, and eye protection.  I had ski goggles, and the Goat had some clear sunglasses, almost like shooting glasses.  Both were of limited use.
This was the same loop that was used for the Hawkeye 50k in December.  But unlike during the 50k, this time I had plenty of warm clothes.  Despite the brutal 25-35 mph winds, the temp was still around 20 degrees, so with proper gear and a windbreaker, the only cold parts were exposed skin.
The loop starts with 2-3 miles exposed on a highway, with the north winds pounding us from off the lake.  My headlamp was lighting the snow in front of my face like a car driving through the snowstorm.  I wore it not to provide light to me, but to alert any oncoming traffic that I was there.
Already we could not tell where the road was.  We were on the shoulder, or the road, or the gravel.  We just didn't know.  We were still laughing at the tremendous power of the storm.
Then we reached Solon, and headed north, into the wind.  It was amazing how hard it was pushing us.  After that, we headed back to the west to run the 5 miles of the flat "North Shore Trail."  The wind was a little less because we were protected by hills and trees.  So I took my hat and goggles off.
The hard part of this section was the footing.  We were running in several inches of fresh snow.  This created resistance with each step, and slipping with each step.  This is also where we decided to make the workout hard, so I was following the Goat the whole time.
After another mile or so, the wind and snow really began to pound.  With the lake frozen and our visibility dropping down to 30 meters or so, it was hard to find the trail.  But Goat was like a bloodhound, and I just followed his footprints.  At times I couldn't even see him.  My headlamp made his footprints glow, and that is all I saw.
We began to slip and trudge more through this blizzard.  We were not cold, but visibility was getting ridiculously low.  Not only was the amount of snow in the air blocking eyesight, but it was poking into my eyeballs, making me want to shut them.
Then we hit the big hill that takes us into MacBride State Park proper. It's 400m up onto the trails.  This spat us out onto the park roads, which were drifting over.  On a lower section of a large parking lot we crossed, we timed our steps to cross the "dunes" that were forming along this long lot.  It was like the desert, with nothing to impede the drifts except the drift behind it.
Now it was time to hit the beach-to-dam 2 mile trail.  This trail was not groomed by snowmobiles like the other.  It was pock-marked by the brave souls that had run on it during the prior snows.  It was very tough going, and I just ducked my head and followed the footprints of the Goat.  This was about the 10 mile mark, and we came to the best part of the loop:  the spillway.
The spillway is a 20m-or-so section where Lake MacBride loudly cascades into Coralville Lake.  It's a wide waterfall, but never more than 1 foot deep.  With skill you can cross by rock-hopping.
But now there was sneaky thin ice in places where we didn't know if we could step.  We hopped along and each got one foot wet.  If it was colder out, this would have been a huge problem.  But at 20 degrees, somehow, it was not bad.
Then we stopped on the cliff/bluff on the other side and looked down at the flowing spillway.  We could barely see the other side, the wind and snow were blowing harder than I've ever see in my life.  It was completely awesome.  We sent forth primal yells and staggered up the trail.
Now here is where the Goat became an animal, like a mountain goat, because he was not slowed down at all.   We were now downwind from the lake, on the cross country ski trails.  They had plenty of up-and-down, the storm was stronger, and we were catching the wind off the lake.
The cold, again, wasn't the bad part.  It was the visibility.  I could not see the trail.  Goat took charge and sprinted up the hill.  My strength was waning, so he quickly disappeared.  I would have been afraid for him or me, except that his prints were glowing strangely off my headlamp.
My stupid faceguard was now all stretched out and frozen-sharp, so my windward face was being punished.  I tried to adjust it, and it was just needles and cold.  I grabbed the goggles, but they were drifted full of snow.  The footprints stretched off ahead of me, and if alone, I would have walked and wandered in this blindness.
My legs were tired in all new places, with the six inches of snow we were resisting against for each step and slipping of course as well.  The trail went on and on, and I couldn't see anything but a few trees to my sides and the footprints ahead.  The Goat waited for me at the end of the trail, and I noticed that somewhere my red hat had been knocked off.  It's now under inches of snow and impossible to find.  So I'll start looking on that stretch during the thaw.
The last mile or so we jogged together, excited about the weather we witnessed.
We snapped pics to document our triumphant run.  Goat took 5-6 runs with the minivan to get out of the parking lot and onto the highway.  I shot out in one attempt, but spent the next 50 minutes travelling 15 miles in 2nd gear at 20 mph, always wondering if I would slowly drive into the ditch.   At times I could not see beyond my hood. Yes it was dumb to drive under those conditions, but not dumb to run.
If I was ditched, I would have to stay put.  Because even though there is a house every 400m on this stretch of road, I would not be able to find one.  I even thought about staying in Solon for the night.
I plowed home, pushing snow with the lower part of my front bumper.  My tires are new snow tires, Blizzaks, and worth double what I paid.
At home, I had to leave my car in the street because there was a 1-2' drift in my way.  I snow-blew it out and by morning there was no evidence that I had done that.
My car was filled with snow, the wheels and the back were completely covered, and even the side windows had completed iced over.
Running smart, driving dumb.  It was awesome.

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