Snow Dance
On Saturday, July 24th, a congregation of skiers and biathletes converged to receive a collective dose of pain in the form of running up the largest hill in northern Maine, Mars Hill. Approximately one and a quarter miles of uphill running from the base to the summit of Mars Hill, this is the fourth year that the opportunity to test mental and physical limits on the hill has been arranged by Maine Winter Sports Center.
The first time that I attempted and succeeded in climbing the fabled hill was in August 2002. What memories I made during that first climb have long since passed. The only thought that comes to mind is one of intense pain, but also of great achievement in having reached the peak at the point of my own exhaustion. Had the great ice sheets spared The County a little of their bulldozing 18,000 years ago, I don’t believe I would have reached the resulting summit of Mars Hill with my breakfast still in my stomach.
The record that I had set two years ago had been broken last summer, so I was quite intent on setting a new one. After arriving from Fort Kent, running and stretching for thirty minutes, and registering with “race organizer” Jens, the start loomed at nine o’clock.
My strategy was quite simple – lead from the beginning. Since I had my heart rate monitor on and knew the speed I could go at without collapsing, I had a good idea of the pace I needed to set. I also knew that the entire thirteen minutes would be painful, and that I needed to persevere and just think about moving one foot in front of the other. The most important thing for me to do was to keep it a time trial… me against the clock, without regard for the other competitors climbing the hill.
I executed the plan perfectly. From the start, I sprinted the fifty meters to the base of the hill to get an early lead. Rather than trying to ease into the race, I kept pushing the pace faster and faster over the early part of the hill. After reaching what I thought was a very good heart rate, but feeling like I could keep going for a few more minutes, I set my body into auto-pilot and drove up the hill.
At around seven minutes into the race, on the largest climb of the hill, my arms started going numb. They felt cold. Either the lactic acid was so high in my blood, or the oxygen in my blood was being used locally in my legs and didn’t even reach my hands. I can only remember that my legs felt heavy, but that I wasn’t in pain. I was moving them as fast as possible, but they were limiting themselves from moving faster, rather than being held back by my mind.
Perhaps that was because at around nine minutes my brain went numb. My sight began to blur and I could only concentrate on what was directly in front of me. I could hear only the sound of the massive amount of air entering and exiting my lungs and the deep throb of my heart and blood pulsing through my head. Before this, I was hording thoughts of slowing down or walking, or just quitting outright, but once my brain went numb, my mind was clear and focused simply on the summit of the hill.
I reached the top; there was even a video camera to prove it. Immediately after finishing at the survey marker, I pretty much collapsed. I had a headache that I thought would kill me before being able to walk down the hill and lungs that felt so seared that I would never breathe normally again.
The only thing I could think about, though, was getting my Lactate Pro analyzer so that I could get a test done. Since there was no one to help me, I had to do the test myself, which is usually never a problem, but at the finish became an arduous task. I couldn’t even concentrate long enough to open an alcohol swab packet. Finally, I was able to prick myself and get a drop of blood into the test strip.
After getting my measurement, I tried to stand up and move around. My head was still in a lot of pain, as were my lungs. My legs felt fine, though I could barely walk. I headed down the hill, cognizant only of the fact that I my body was aching.
Later, when I found out my time and that I had set a new record, I became ever more confident in my training and preparation for the winter season to date. Of course, I am mindful that an uphill run is not the same as a biathlon race, but I was satisfied knowing that I had done my best. Thinking about it now, there was truly no point on the course where I let up, where I could have gone faster and arrived with a better time. That is a great feeling, and one that I can call upon in the future.
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