Into the Tour: Stage One
Wednesday, March 30th, 2011Sunday morning was spent watching the women’s 30k, and then yesterday we did some race prep intervals in the early part of the day. The trick with non-racing days is to avoid just lounging around the house like a gluttonous blob. A lot of people think that doing as little activity as possible is the best way to rest for racing, but I have found that it usually makes me feel awful when I do get out and ski.
So we have been taking advantage of the sweet selection of low-quality recreation equipment that our rental house came equipped with. While the waffle bats, ball-flinger-contraptions, and retro downhill skis are nice, the comfort-cruiser bikes have been a big hit. I have been getting in a little ride pretty much every afternoon, and have been having a blast cruising through the snow-covered hills on dry pavement:
While riding, I discovered a strange house that looks like something Batman would live in. It’s just a garage door bunker that disappears into the hill:
The skiing at the venue has been really sweet, although the parking is a little bit crazy. They have been quadruple parking us on race days:
The margins are pretty small. Pete and Brent checked the clearance on one particular situation, where only a piece of paper could fit between the bumpers:
Today was the prologue. It was basically the most painful race imaginable; basically, twice the length of a sprint. That means that you have to essentially ski at sprint pace, for longer than your body can handle that pace. It was an interesting experience for me, as I have never actually done one before. Our APU girls especially killed it. You can read about the MENS and WOMENS races on the Fasterskier home.
And to top off the day, there was an unofficial coaches race afterwards. Nothing like watching a bunch of coaches and wax techs doing a mass start 3k at 6000ft. There was some serious pain out there.
In an ironic turning of the tables, I actually covered the coaches race, and shot this picture of Nat Herz in the finish chute:
He wasn’t too psyched when I barged in and tried to interview him as he hung on his poles gasping for air.
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