Cascade Crest lottery and Fat Dog 120
The Cascade Crest lottery lacked the high drama of the Western States lottery, with the results appearing in an anticlimactic lump on Saturday morning. Buoyed by the feeling of community from the morning’s brunch at Surly, I was convinced my name would appear on the list next to Jared Vanderhook. It did…on the waitlist in 174th position out of 185 people.
By the time we returned to Houston, I could barely walk. My trashed quads, hamstrings, and glutes had me comically leaning into my trekking poles to make the short traverse across the driveway. After a flight delay, and many hours spent sitting either at the airport or on the plane, I returned to Minneapolis scarcely able to confront the challenge of concourse C.
I was only a little bit sick and it wasn’t going to rain until later. Good, good. I’d made a handful of dubious decisions race morning, including what shirt to wear, where to apply lube, and whether or not I would chase my lofty goal of a sub twenty hour finish.
Three days to race day. Nervousness is comfortably in my bones. The illness that I caught shortly after Tuscobia has mostly washed away, but left is the residual fatigue and fear that it might not be gone. My shoes all seem equally imperfect. My training is flawed. I have nightmares about being sick and having sore feet. It could be worse.
I was 8 miles into the race, and I’d just discovered my broken chain and frozen hydration hose. Things were not going well.
The bus arrived at the Rice Lake trailhead after two hours of meandering through the frozen Wisconsin countryside.
I had planned a much more elaborate pre-Tuscobia post, wonderfully photo documenting my gear, while also reflecting on my decision to bike rather than run the race. Yet, here I am, frantically packing the night before we leave for Wisconsin. So, that’s not going to happen. However, I will attempt a haphazard explanation of my decision to bike the race rather than run.
Mid-November made me look like a genius. My new fat bike was an unreasonably fun toy and sensible transportation choice, Tuscobia training runs were destined to happen every weekend, and my myriad of insulated clothing became highly appropriate dress for lounging around the house. Then spring arrived…in December.
Jared wanted to do some running in the woods for his birthday, so Friday we headed north to Duluth. We planned to camp on the SHT Friday night, and then run the Wild Duluth course on Saturday. This was an especially nice treat for me, since I had to withdraw from the race in October due to lingering issues from Superior.