Fun at its peak

A few people have asked me how Geoff is dealing with his foot injury. Today, he had a really good day. Not only did he get a job offer to be a cook at a natural food grocery store and deli, but he also ran four miles without any pain in his feet. A pain-free four-mile run does not a successful 100-mile race make, but he's feeling less certain that he has a stress fracture, and more certain that he his going to run the race. Certain enough that he's at least going to stand at the starting line Saturday morning.

I spent the morning fixing up my bike so I can take it apart tomorrow. I've spent a better part of the evening creating an iPod playlist for the race. Intertwined with my old staples like Modest Mouse and Built to Spill are a few random selections that carry vivid memories of last year's Susitna 100: "D.A.R.E." by the Gorillaz and "Scrub" by TLC. It's always interesting to me when certain songs tie themselves irrevocably to particular moments in the past. So it's unfortunate that the one song that sweeps me instantly back to the dripping darkness of that soggy night in February 2006 isn't actually a song at all - it's a jingle.

Before Susitna 2006, I never listened to music while riding - at all. But people mentioned that if I found myself alone and struggling in the middle of the night, a little FM/AM radio would help me stay sane. So I took their advice, and when the night became really dark and lonely, I turned it on for the first time. I had to flip through every single notch on the dial before I came to the one station the radio could pick up. It was some top-40 station out of Anchorage, playing the most random mix of pre-selected music that any midnight radio show could hope to find. And between broadcasts of choice selections like "You're Beautiful" by James Blunt and "Unforgiven" by Metallica - literally after every other song - the station played its one and only commercial: a promo for the Mat-Su Valley tourism board. So every ten minutes, a giddy group of singing banshees would wail in my ear ... "Yahoo, Mat-Su! Fun is at its peak in the Valley!" That night, as fatigued and desperate for companionship as I was, every single advertising spot made me cringe.

But now, every time that hideous jingle enters my head, I think of the way the distant city lights of Anchorage burned orange over the wilderness. I think of the way those Valium-laced voices sang, "Don't miss the sights ... Nature puts on a show with the northern lights." And it makes me smile.

And if I could find an mP3 of that commercial, I'd definitely add it to my Susitna 2007 playlist.

Hold the butter

Date: Feb. 12
Mileage: 20.1
February mileage: 258.3
Temperature upon departure: 28

I set out today for one last ride on my fully loaded bike. For some reason, it was really tough. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve reduced my mileage, or because I haven’t reduced it enough, but I just couldn’t get warmed up. My legs were pumping lactic acid, and I could feel the metallic pangs of an old repetitive motion injury in my knees. Probably just a bad day. But I’ve decided to settle into some real rest. Tomorrow, I’m planning a short session at the gym, but I'll probably cut back on all other physical activity for the rest of the week.

I have just about all of my gear gathered for the race, with the exception of one thing - food. Since I’m one of those people that hates eating on the trail (I consider it a necessary chore akin to changing a flat tire), I’ve predictably put off deciding what I’m going to bring. The race rules require carrying 3,000 calories for the duration of the race. Lots of people just carry a pound of butter because it’s one of the lightest ways to pack 3,000 calories, but I think that’s a bad idea. I’ve tried to envision possible scenarios on the dark wilderness trail, and I can’t, for the life of me, come up with any situation that would compel me to bite into a frozen stick of butter. If I need food to save my life, it should probably be something I can actually eat. So I’m going to carry 20 ounces of chocolate, knowing those four extra ounces could make all the difference. And they're pretty negligible in the grand (60-pound) scheme of things.

As for food I actually plan to eat, I’m probably going to pack between 3,500 and 4,500 calories, knowing that this race could take me 16 hours to finish, or it could take me 40. There is food at three of the checkpoints along the way, but I’m not planning to rely on it. Most likely, I’ll bring: peanut butter and jam sandwiches; a homemade trail mix with raw walnuts, Craisens and dried cherries; turkey jerky; fruit leathers; fruit snacks (Shrek brand, my favorite); fig bars and Power Bars (I realize Power Bars freeze. But since they’re one of my best sources of complex carbohydrates, I’ll probably just carry them next to my torso to keep them warm.) The reason for all of this random, sugar-laden stuff is that it’s all been trail tested and approved for stomachache-free consumption.

I also will probably carry some Cytomax powder and maybe a few Clif Shot Bloks for good measure. Geoff is trying to convince me to take a bottle of Hammer Perpetuem. But the last time I tried to take a swig of that stuff, I was stopped cold by the smell of what is, to me, the most disgusting food ever to be manufactured and sold in a standard grocery store: Vanilla Soy Milk. Honestly, I think I’d have more luck getting the butter down.

If anyone has any last-minute suggestions, I’ll hear them out. I just discovered that also entered in the Susitna 100 this year is John “The Guy Who Drinks Vegetable Oil” Stamstad. So I guess there’s no end to the possibilities.

So long to the holidays

Date: Feb. 11
Mileage: 14.3
February mileage: 238.2
Temperature upon departure: 23

Geoff and I skim across the surface of Mendenhall Lake, he on skate skis, me on “studs” and a mountain bike. Side by side, we glide steady at 10 mph. He slashes up the groomed track; I draw a straight line through several inches of dry powder. The flat surface radiates a blaze of unfiltered sunlight, blinding to the point of hypnotizing. Through a heavy squint, all I can make out is a white slate stretching uninterrupted for more than a mile in all directions. The tracks of others veer off in shadowed tangents that remind me of curves on a line graph; their creators stand at variable points in the distance. Geoff and I move parallel along the axis, where I can’t help but weave through a barrage of vague images from 11th-grade calculus.

After standing in the shadow of the glacier terminus, much too close for comfort, we veer off the lake and hit the moraine trails. Inches of new snow slow us both down, but we push on through the the crackle and click of powder-dusted singletrack. Rides like this, when surging up even small hills is a losing battle against sand-like resistance, can at times be sweaty, heart-pounding work. But on days like today, when the forest is full of sweaty people smiling in the sunlight, they can hardly be counted as workouts.

I think about where 2007 has taken me so far ... simple moments of awe and joy cut like razors through my daily routine. I think back to the holiday season, spent thousands of miles away from my family, and how it was in turn overwhelmingly hectic and largely meaningless. The first six weeks of the new year, on the other hand, have been full of selfish gifts and selflessly quiet reflections. When I began training for the Susitna 100, I embarked on a journey so daunting and encompassing that I could be forgiven for letting social, financial and domestic obligations fall by the wayside. It was a holiday from myself, from the day-to-day hassle and general realities of life.

And now that it’s nearly over, I’m like a kid counting down the days until Christmas - almost blind with anticipation but, at the same time, already feeling a sense of loss for the inevitable day after.